Wild Men of Alaska Collection

by Tiffinie Helmer

  “That’s okay,” Hansen said. “I wasn’t really serious about dreamweaving anyway. I’m happy here. What’s not to love about Paradise?”

  Lucky raised his head to debate the reasons but stopped. He had a feeling Hansen hadn’t moved on because of him. Hansen had always been a supportive sonofabitch. Lucky was going to miss him. That is if he wasn’t stuck with him for all eternity.

  “So what’s your next move?” Hansen asked.

  Hell, if he knew.

  So help her God, if another person asked for a book, and they didn’t know the title or author, she was going to scream. The earlier Tarot reading twisted around in her head, so Gemma had dived into work, hoping that would help her to compartmentalize.

  It wasn’t working.

  Gemma gritted her teeth and plastered on a fake smile as she turned to greet another customer. “Oh hi, Cub.” Gemma’s fake smile flirted with the real thing at seeing him.

  Cub stopped cold. His eyes widened, and he looked like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t be. “Hey, Gemma. I thought today was your day off?” He stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. She couldn’t help but notice how the fabric fit across his hips.

  “Normally it is, but I couldn’t stay away. You know how it is when you own your own business.” So, he wasn’t in here to see her. Her fake smile returned at full-wattage. “Is there something I can help you find?”

  “Uh...no.” Cub clearly looked uncomfortable as his gaze flitted around the store landing everywhere but on her. “I’ll just look around.”

  “Okay.” Awkward. “Let me know if you need anything.” She made a beeline for the café and left the book floor for Callista to manage. The young English major seemed better at it lately anyway.

  The store had been hopping all day. Bad weather always brought in the customers. A lot of them were hanging out in the café with their laptops, drinking their daily water consumption in coffee. Lately, she’d been no different.

  “Large coffee with a double shot of espresso, Amie,” Gemma ordered.

  “Are you sure?” Amie asked, sending a worried look her way. “You’ve been downing the coffee at a terrible rate. You’re going to eat through your stomach lining if you keep this up. Maybe some tea would be better?”

  “Not strong enough,” she mumbled.

  “Hey, can I talk to you about your mom?” Amie asked as she went about making Gemma’s drink.

  One of the very reasons she needed copious amounts of caffeine. She was lucky she didn’t drown her life in a bottle. “What about her?”

  “Remember when she said I was pregnant?”

  Oh, no. Gemma braced herself for the news.

  “Well, she was half right.”

  “Come again?”

  “Siri’s words had hinted that a new baby would be in my future. Well, I’m not pregnant. Seriously, not pregnant. I took six pregnancy tests in the last week and then you-know-what decided to put in an appearance and relieve my fears for good. But Drew came home with a new puppy. So your mom was right.”

  “A new puppy?”

  “He’s way cute. And puppies are babies. Dog babies.”

  That they are. Maybe she should add something stronger to her coffee after all? She was having trouble keeping up. Amie handed her the hot drink. Gemma took a large sip not giving it time to cool, and burned her tongue. She jerked the cup away from her mouth, spilling drips of coffee on her sweater. She swallowed the burning liquid as Cub came up to her.

  “You okay?” he asked, holding a bag with his purchase in one hand, the other still locked away in his pocket. Guess he found what he’d come in for.

  She grabbed a napkin and blotted her mouth and the front of her sweater. What was wrong with her? She knew better than to guzzle fresh coffee. Good thing her sweater was black.

  “Here.” Amie set a cup of ice water on the counter for her.

  She mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ and took a drink, letting the cold water cover her scorching tongue. Swallowing, she answered, “I’m fine.” She concentrated on getting the words out past her swelling tongue.

  “Can we...sit for a minute?” Cub indicated a table in the corner next to the window.

  “Actually, I really need to get back to work. It’s time for me to cover Callista’s lunch. But would you like something to drink?” She gestured to Amie who patiently waited to see if Cub needed anything, taking in every word exchanged between them.

  “Hot chocolate?” He reached for his wallet, and Gemma stayed his hand.

  “No, it’s on me.”

  “That’s twice now you’ve treated me to hot chocolate. Can I treat you to dinner Sunday night?”

  Dinner? When he was clearly uncomfortable with seeing her here today?

  “I really enjoy your company, Gemma.” He leaned in and whispered, “And the kiss we shared the other night.”

  She couldn’t stop the heat from illuminating her face. Amie’s quirky smile confirmed she’d heard everything.

  “Okay.” Gemma figured agreeing to dinner would get Cub out of the store faster and away from probing eyes and the questions Amie would no doubt demand answers to.

  “Good. I’ll pick you up at your place at seven.”

  “How about I meet you?”

  “Actually, I’d really like to pick you up. You know, like a real date.”

  Amie’s smile was ear to ear now. But if Cub picked her up, that meant he’d be dropping her off at home too. It could mean another kiss, maybe more. She suddenly needed to hold the cup of ice to her face.

  “All right. Seven then. Dinner,” she clarified if not for him, for herself.

  “Great.” Cub paused and then leaned in and kissed her cheek. “See you Saturday.”

  She watched him saunter out of the café and into the blustery outdoors.

  “Wow, can that man wear a pair of jeans,” Amie whispered in awe.

  Yep, he sure could.

  Gemma took a long drink of the ice water.

  Callista joined them. Her waist-length, flaxen hair lay in a braid down her back. Little silver-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of her nose that Gemma knew she only wore to help downplay her stunning looks and make her appear smarter. She wore gray slacks with a simple white blouse as another camouflage of sorts. “Are you seeing Cub Iverson?”

  “Uh...kinda. Maybe?” They were just friends, really. But there was a date planned, and they’d shared a kiss, but wasn’t she seeing...

  No. She wasn’t in a relationship with Lucky Leroy Morgan. You couldn’t be in a relationship with a dead person. Unless he was a vampire.

  Oh, balls. She needed some sleep.

  One thing she did fully comprehend in her sleep-deprived state, Cub was very much alive.

  “She has a date with him Sunday night,” Amie shared, leaning over the counter. At least she hadn’t said it loud enough for the all café guests to hear.

  “I’m so glad. I was heart-sickened to hear about his wife.”

  “Wife!” Gemma and Amie said together.

  A few eyes turned their direction.

  “I thought you knew?” Callista stepped in closer. She continued when both Gemma and Amie shook their heads. “Cub lost his wife a year or so ago. I’m so relieved to see him moving on. He was depressed a long time after he lost her. They were high school sweethearts and were married right after graduation.”

  “How’d she die?” Gemma asked, words suddenly hard to speak and not because of her burnt tongue.

  “Breast cancer.”

  “Oh, no. That’s awful,” Amie said.

  Gemma had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, and it had nothing to do with how much coffee she’d drunk today. “Callista, what book did he buy?”

  “Uh...‘Your First Time: A Guide to Loving After the Death of a Spouse.’”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Are you really going out with him?”

  Gemma jumped, and the pile of sci-fi books in her arms scattered to the
floor. She glanced around, even though she knew there was no one else in the store but her. Everyone had headed home for the night since the bookstore was currently closed. She should have done the same, but had prolonged her workday not wanting to face her empty house. Not with sleep beckoning and her seducer waiting for her to fall asleep. Was he tied to her or the house?

  “I’m tied to you, and going out with that other guy will really complicate things,” Lucky’s voice rumbled over her.

  “And you don’t think my life isn’t complicated already?” She was talking to dead guy. Basically a ghost, and since he’d shown up here didn’t that mean he was haunting her?

  “I’m not a ghost, and I’m not haunting you.”

  Holy balls, she forgot about that mind reading trick of his. “You have to stop doing that.” It was bad enough he knew so much about her, she didn’t want him inside her confused, messed up mind too. What woman would like the man she was attracted to knowing her every thought?

  “I love how you think. You’re refreshing and honest. Your thoughts are as beautiful as you are.”

  The man could seduce merely with words.

  He gave a chuckle that did crazy things to her insides. “You should see what I can do with my—”

  “Okay, stop.” She threw her hands up.

  “You say stop, but what you’d really like is for me to—”

  “No more reading my mind.”

  “It’s hard not to when you project so easily. You have such charming thoughts, Gemma.”

  Project? Did she have a part in this?

  “You’re like a beacon in a storm. A hot, fervent place promising shelter where I want to—”

  “Beacon or not, I don’t want you in my head.” It was tough enough being alone with her own thoughts.

  “I can’t promise. I’m not the most disciplined.”

  That, she believed.

  Gemma bent to retrieve the books she’d dropped and found them missing. She swiveled and discovered the books stacked on the shelf where she’d meant to display them. “Did you do that?”

  “It was my fault for scaring you. Helping you clean up is the least I could do.”

  Yeah, but unnerving as hell. She shook off the shiver. She hadn’t even seen the books move. Explained how he could so easily get her undressed.

  “Definitely a perk.”

  “Hey.”

  “Sorry. I can’t help it. Just like I can’t help this.”

  He tucked strains of hair behind her ear that had fallen out of her clip, and she swore he nuzzled the side of her neck.

  Her heart skipped. Now don’t get excited, she tried to chide herself. She was supposed to be downplaying her attraction to Lucky not building on it. After all, there was only so far this—whatever it was—could go.

  A wave of sadness enveloped her, and she suddenly felt lonely. She’d never been one to feel alone. It was more than melancholy she felt. It was desolate isolation with the promise of eternity. Could she be picking up on Lucky’s feelings?

  “Now that is interesting,” Lucky murmured. “I’m not up on all the rules. Rules have never been my thing.” She imagined him shrugging. “But somehow I must be transferring my feelings to you.”

  Her knees wobbled. She might need to sit down for this. Instead of falling into a horizontal position that her body so badly craved, she returned to the customer service desk for the other stack of books awaiting her attention. She felt him shadow her. What she wouldn’t give to see him. There was another wave of understanding that she interpreted as him wanting the same thing.

  She grabbed a pile of “Hot New Romances” and carried them to the endcap in the romance section. She placed the books in the already set up Plexiglas holders and then looked them over to make sure the display seemed balanced. She turned to get the next pile of books to fill in and found them floating in the air.

  She froze.

  “Did I freak you out again?” Lucky asked, the stack of books lifting as though he were offering them to her. “I’d just like to help.”

  “Don’t move,” she whispered. With him holding the books, she knew exactly where he was. What if she put something on him? “Seriously, stay right here and don’t move.” One last look to make sure the books were still suspended in mid-air, she ran for the café and grabbed one of the clean aprons Amie had hanging in the kitchen. She rushed back to find the books floating where she’d left them with Lucky presumably still holding them.

  “What are you doing with the apron?” There was a distinct frown in his voice.

  “I want you to wear it.”

  “Not very manly. How about you wear the apron and nothing under it?” Though she couldn’t see his eyebrows waggling, she’d bet good money by his tone they were.

  “You’re such a man.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Now put on the apron.”

  “If I have to wear that thing, the least you can do is put it on me yourself.”

  The challenge lay between them. A challenge she didn’t have any problem accepting.

  “Divide the books in both hands,” she ordered, fascinated as the stack of six books suddenly became a pair of three, each held about four feet apart. She reached up and felt solid shoulders under her hands.

  Lucky moaned. “Your hands are so warm.”

  “Shh.” If he kept talking like that her willpower would dissolve like sugar in a sea of water. The books moved closer to her as though he intended to hold her. “Nuh-uh. Keep the books in your hands. And no dropping them. Enough merchandise has been bruised tonight already.”

  She looped the apron over his head a little astonished when it stayed. Next, she stepped closer and brought the ties around to knot behind his back. If she closed her eyes, it was like wrapping her arms around a flesh and blood man.

  He was here. He was real.

  Yet, he wasn’t.

  Lucky groaned as though in pain. “Do you have any idea how good you smell and how badly I want to hold you?”

  “Stop that,” she said, though her voice held no conviction. She swallowed hard and stepped back. In front of her was a floating dark green apron with hovering romance novels on each side. She shook her head. “Stay put. I have another idea.”

  She ran to the office, hurrying back with her wool scarf and knit hat.

  “Purple really isn’t my color,” Lucky said. “Besides, the scarf will clash with the hunter green of my apron.”

  She giggled, surprising herself with how much fun she was having. She reached up and with one hand felt for the top of his head, her fingers diving into thick, soft hair. It was her turn to groan. By her calculations, his hair was just shy of shoulder length, wavy and soft as goose down.

  “Gemma.” He moaned her name, the books inching closer to her in her peripheral vision.

  She shushed him again. When they’d had these stolen moments before she wasn’t fully awake and always came away wondering how much of what she remembered had really happened and what was just a dream. But she was awake, aware, and more involved than she wanted to admit.

  “Close your eyes,” Lucky whispered.

  “No.” She gasped. The desire to close her eyes was unbearably hard to refuse. If she did that she’d be lost again. And she badly wanted to give in. So she didn’t. She grabbed the hat and placed it on his head, next she wrapped the scarf around his neck. She stepped back to view her handiwork.

  He looked a bit like a scarecrow.

  “There is nothing sexy about a scarecrow.”

  “I don’t know. The scarecrow was always my favorite character in The Wizard of Oz.”

  “Well, I am brainless with desire.” The humor in his voice was back and made her smile. She realized how much she’d laughed tonight. What fun they would’ve had together if he’d lived.

  “Aren’t we having fun now? Can you only enjoy things when you’re alive? I’m proof that isn’t true.”

  She sobered as the improbability of their situation cleared all the la
ughter out of her.

  Her heart was in danger.

  “Gemma—”

  “I know.” She shook it off. Tonight. She’d steal tonight for herself. “Do you like to dance?”

  “I’m a fan of anything that gets my body flush against yours.”

  And just like that her despondence was gone as laughter bubbled to the surface. “Hang tight. I’ll be right back.” Once again she returned to the office, picked out her favorite music to play, and lowered the lights in the store, flipping the switch for the mural on the ceiling. Before her dad had died, he’d installed lights that resembled the constellations. Gemini being the brightest. It had been too long since she’d lit them up.

  She walked out of the office into a magical land of light and color. The plate glass windows at the front of the store reflected the greens, reds, and purples of the Northern Lights, while her ceiling sparkled with stars and the fluid streams of the Milky Way. She found Lucky, having placed the books she’d been making him hold, onto the display. He’d even moved the books around so that the colors on the covers popped and balanced the promo. There wasn’t anything about what he’d done that she’d change.

  He seemed to get her in a way that no man had before. As though he could see into her soul.

  He turned as she approached and for a moment she thought she saw more than an apron, hat and scarf. He seemed more outlined in the dim light. If she squinted, she thought she could see details of his frame.

  The hat cocked to the side. “Fleetwood Mac?”

  “I’m a hippie child. Some things you don’t outgrow.”

  “I’m a big fan of Stevie Nicks and of the hippie lifestyle.”

  “You’re not just saying that?”

  She felt the touch of his hand on her check. “One thing you can rely on with me, Gemma, I will never lie to you.” She felt his other hand on her waist, just above her hip. “Dance with me.”

  She slid into his arms as though she’d always belonged. His hips brushed hers, as they moved into a rhythm as natural as breathing. He led her across the book floor under the twinkling lights of the constellations as the smoky voice of Stevie Nicks sang “If Anyone Falls in Love.” It was like they danced on clouds as each step fell into step with each other. He twirled her around the bookcases, from romance to mystery to sci-fi, they glided.