An Alaskan Wedding

by Belle Calhoune

  He chewed his lip. What in the world was this type of woman doing in Love? The question buzzed around him like an annoying gnat. She was as out of place as a polar bear on a tropical beach. He knew from past experience about city girls who tried to make it in Alaska. Been there, done that. He had the scars to prove it. Thinking about Diana didn’t hurt half as much as it used to, he realized. Instead of feeling a stabbing pain in the region of his heart like he had in the past, all he felt now was regret. He wished he hadn’t spent all those weeks and months hurting over her. She really hadn’t been worth his time.

  “Enjoying the view, Sheriff?” Declan O’Rourke’s familiar, teasing voice cut into his thoughts, serving as a much-needed reminder that he was still on the clock. Boone shot his best friend a look of annoyance and then made a point to look in another direction entirely. Now Grace Corbett was no longer in his line of sight. Although he could see a flash of cranberry in the corner of his eye, he willed himself not to look in her direction. It was easier said than done, he realized. Almost like not gazing at a glorious Alaskan full moon.

  “No harm in looking, right?” Declan asked with a jab in his side.

  He gritted his teeth. Maybe, just maybe, if he completely ignored Declan he would leave him alone.

  “Did you see my two passengers? Can’t remember the last time we had two beauty queens come to town.” Declan let out a high-pitched whistle of appreciation. “Jasper really riled things up here, didn’t he?”

  At the mention of his grandfather, Boone raised an eyebrow. “Jasper doesn’t know how not to shake things up. One of these days this experiment of his is going to blow up in his face.”

  Declan’s mouth quirked. “It’s not exactly an experiment, Boone. It was a call to action, a bid to save this town.”

  Boone let out a snort. “You sound just like him.” He shook his head at the idea of his grandfather’s crazy scheme being a good thing for the town. In the six short weeks of Operation Love, the town had been stirred up like a hornet’s nest. Little by little, women had straggled into town. Twenty-two in all. Some had left on the next thing smoking, while others had lasted a little more than a week. So far, fourteen had stuck it out.

  “Hey, the proof is in the pudding. Six couples already. Six!” Declan said in a triumphant voice.

  “Doesn’t matter if it’s six or sixty. We’ll see if they last,” he answered with a sigh. “If they don’t, there’s going to be a lot of brokenhearted villagers. And even if this town has an abundance of women, it won’t do anything to solve our fiscal problems. With the cannery gone, everyone’s scrambling to come up with a way to bring income to town.”

  Silence hung in the air for a moment as they both absorbed the cold, harsh fact of the matter. True love was a beautiful thing, but it wasn’t going to get the fishing cannery up and running, nor would it put money in the town’s coffers. Although things weren’t dire at the moment, a few years down the road it might all fall apart. Something needed to be done to turn things around, and he didn’t think Operation Love was it.

  Declan jerked his chin in the direction of the two women and the welcome wagon that had encircled them. “They’re headed to the Moose. You going over? From the sounds of it, you could use a heavy dose of caffeine to pick up your mood.”

  The Moose Café, one of the town’s most popular eating establishments, was owned by Boone’s younger brother, Cameron. Situated in the center of town on Jarvis Street, directly across from the sheriff’s office, it was a hangout for the locals. A few times a week Cameron brought in musicians who performed live for the customers. Other afternoons he allowed local artists to set up their painting and sculptures for sale. Although he himself wasn’t a big coffee drinker, folks raved about all the varieties of coffee Cameron served up. From what he’d heard, he’d been branching out by offering lunch specials and baked goods. His brother had told him a few days ago that he was expecting new hires today, two women who were flying in to Anchorage from the Lower 48. Clearly, Grace was one of Cameron’s new employees.

  Somehow the image of Grace serving up java drinks, sourdough bread and cherry chocolate-chip cookies did not compute. He didn’t know why, but the image struck him as off somehow. She seemed like the type of woman who dressed up to go work and always had a purse to match her outfit. He shook his head, wanting to free himself of any more thoughts of Grace. It wasn’t as if he knew her, after all. He was merely speculating.

  “No, thanks. I need to get back to the office.” With a nod in Declan’s direction, he turned on his heel and began walking back down the pier, right past Grace and her crowd of admirers. As he walked past, he couldn’t help but look in her direction. She was staring right at him, a smile illuminating her face. She cheerily waved in his direction and called out to him. “See you later, Sheriff.”

  He raised his hand and waved back, stifling a mad urge to stick around and get to know Grace better. Something about the way she’d grinned at him warmed his insides. Even though he’d been testy with her earlier about her heels, she seemed willing to put her best foot forward. For the life of him he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so conflicted about something. Or so intrigued. Even though his legs were carrying him in the opposite direction of Love’s prettiest new resident, something inside him urged him to turn back around and stay a while.

  As he settled himself behind the wheel of his cruiser, a dozen different questions were bouncing around his mind. Where had Grace come from in the Lower 48? Everything about her screamed city girl. Perhaps Boston, Chicago, Los Angeles or New York? Was it an adventurous spirit that had compelled her to relocate to Love? Or an open heart?

  As images of Grace danced in his head, he couldn’t help but remember that the last time he’d fallen for a city girl, his heart had been handed to him on a platter.

  * * *

  Welcome to Love. The prettied-up sign with the crooked letters hanging above the doorway of the Moose Café had made Grace want to shout with laughter. The establishment was as girly as a men’s locker room. It was dark and dreary, all grays and browns, exuding an indisputably masculine vibe. Antlers hung on the wall, along with a dartboard and a retro framed print of a grizzly bear. Clearly, someone had wanted to impress the ladies by putting a few feminine touches in place. “Oh, this is lovely,” Sophie had gushed. She’d raised her hands over her mouth, green eyes moist with emotion. “This is such a sweet gesture.”

  Sophie was right. It was thoughtful. And sweet. She wasn’t used to either. As a journalist living in a metropolitan area, she operated in a high-pressure world. Competition among her peers for stories was fairly cutthroat. Although she got along well enough with her boss at the Tribune, Tony wasn’t exactly the warm and fuzzy type. He’d never so much as given her a “thatta girl” or a thumbs-up. But that was all about to change, she thought. After she wrote this series on Love, Alaska, he’d be falling all over himself to pat her on the back. She might even get a promotion and a raise out of this, if she knocked it out of the park. Thoughts of a corner office with a view of Central Park danced in her head. She might even be eligible for a journalism award.

  Within moments of entering the café the delicious aroma of baked goods wafted in the air. Grace lifted her nose in the air and sniffed. Cinnamon buns? Cookies? Whatever it was, the scent caused her stomach to grumble and her mouth to water. It had been hours since she’d eaten anything other than a stale bag of pretzels and a few handfuls of popcorn. She was famished.

  “Ladies. Sophie and Grace, I presume.” She saw Sophie’s eyes widen as her jaw swung open. Grace followed her gaze until the trail stopped cold. The owner of the voice was tall and lean with chocolate-brown hair. Green-hazel eyes and a winning smile completed the picture.

  What in the world was in the water supply in this town? No wonder women were giving up their lives in the 48 contiguous states and making tracks to Love. There were more hunky
men in this fishing village than she’d seen in Manhattan in the past few weeks together. Operation Love should be renamed Operation Hotties.

  “Hello. I’m Cameron Prescott, the owner. And your new boss.” Prescott? As in related to the mind-bogglingly handsome Sheriff Boone Prescott? She studied him for a moment, recognizing the similarities between the two men. Although Cameron was Alaskan eye candy, the sight of him didn’t pack the same sucker punch that his brother had. That was a good thing, since she was going to be working for Cameron at the Moose Café.

  In all the hubbub, how could she have forgotten? She’d taken a job as a barista. As part of her cover story it had been important to find a paying job in town. It was also a great way to schmooze with the townsfolk and get a feel for Love. Since her skills were pretty much limited to writing for a living, her options had been slim to none. Tony had found this barista gig on an Alaskan job search website and sent in an application on her behalf. Lo and behold, she’d been hired. She stuck out her hand to Cameron, only to find herself being enveloped in a huge bear hug. Not knowing what else to do, she clung on for dear life. As soon as he let go of her, he reached for Sophie, giving her the same enthusiastic greeting. When he let go he stood back and rubbed his hands together. “I can’t wait till tomorrow. This place should be pretty packed considering it’s Cappuccino Tuesday—a free baked good with any cappuccino order. It’s turning out to be a really great promotion. Hey,” he said, his expression full of excitement. “Why don’t I give you a quick tour of the kitchen? I promise to feed you afterward.”

  Grace groaned on the inside. This job was definitely going to be challenging, considering she’d only managed a two-week stint at Java Giant before she’d quit after realizing it was too stressful. Although the smell of coffee drifting through the air had been an incentive, she’d never gotten the hang of whipping up the drinks and serving the actual customers. She grimaced as memories of disgruntled, loud customers came into sharp focus. These coffee-holics took their drinks seriously, and they didn’t take too kindly to inexperienced baristas messing up orders.

  Fake it till you make it. That had always been her motto, and there was no need to switch things up at the moment. It had gotten her through some of the most difficult moments of her life. Gritting her teeth and smiling through the pain had served her well. There was no reason to switch things up now.

  * * *

  When the door to Boone’s office crashed open without warning, his Alaskan malamute, Kona, emitted a low, menacing growl. The hairs stood up on the back of Kona’s spine as the dog raced over to investigate.

  “Hey, Kona. Good girl,” Declan crooned as he nuzzled Kona’s face and lavished her with the love and attention she craved. Within seconds Kona was wagging her tail and slobbering all over their visitor. Boone made a mental note to talk to his assistant, Shelly, about boundaries. Declan clearly had none, considering he never bothered to knock. His shameless flirting with Shelly gave Declan a direct line to his private office. All it took on his part was a wink and a smile.

  Declan plunked himself down in one of the comfortable leather swivel chairs opposite Boone’s desk. From past experience, Boone knew it was a sure sign he was planning to stay awhile.

  Boone raised his head and subjected him to a fierce scowl. “I thought you were heading over to the Moose. From the sounds of it, the whole town is over there.”

  “I stopped in for an espresso,” Declan said. “And a few of those churro treats Cameron makes.”

  Boone rolled his eyes at his best friend. A year ago he hadn’t known an espresso from a hot chocolate. Now all of a sudden he was a connoisseur.

  Declan leaned back in his chair and slowly began to stroke his chin. “So, I saw you talking to the dark-haired one earlier on the pier. Ginny. Georgia. I think that’s her name.”

  “Grace,” he said, his tone clipped. “Grace Corbett.”

  Declan shot him a knowing look textured with twenty-plus years of friendship. “So, you got your eye on her, huh?”

  Boone leveled a category-five glare at his best friend. “No, I do not have my eye on Grace Corbett. Despite my grandfather’s grand scheme to bring marriageable women and marry off the single men in town, I want nothing to do with it. And if I did want to fall in love and settle down, I certainly wouldn’t hand-select a woman who doesn’t have the brains God gave a goose.” Settling back in his chair, Boone let loose with a loud harrumph. “Sky-high heels. It’s a wonder she didn’t break her neck.”

  Declan swung his feet onto the edge of Boone’s desk and leaned back in his chair, his hands propped behind his head. A wide grin showcased a set of pearly whites. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re not interested, ’cause there are a few men already staking their claim.”

  Boone shot up in his chair. “Staking a claim? They aren’t pieces of property to be claimed, Declan. It’s chauvinistic comments like yours that got us into this sad situation in the first place.”

  Declan waved a hand in the air. “Take it easy. I didn’t mean it like that. And I’m not taking responsibility for the woman shortage in this town. Those ripples started when we were barely a twinkle in our parents’ eyes.”

  Boone lowered his head and tried to focus on the report set out before him on his desk. “So, who’s circling around Grace?” His voice came out gruffer than he’d intended.

  “Why don’t you come with me to the Moose Café and find out for yourself?” Declan tossed out the invitation with all the grace of a major-league pitcher. He stood up from his chair, a sly grin etched on his face.

  Humph, he thought grumpily. It was classic Declan to dangle a carrot in front of his nose, knowing he could never resist a challenge being thrown down. He’d been doing it ever since they were in the second grade. With a loud groan he surrendered, pushing himself away from his desk and making his way toward his office door. Much to his chagrin, his curiosity had gotten the better of him. Kona cocked her head to the side and proceeded to trail after him. With a quick hand signal and a one-word command, he had Kona settled back down in her dog bed.

  With his best friend following behind him, Boone wrenched his office door open and strode down the hall past his bewildered-looking receptionist.

  “I thought you were in for the rest of the afternoon,” Shelly called out after him.

  “I thought so, too,” he mumbled as he strode out the door and beat a fast path across the street to the Moose Café.

  * * *

  Cameron beamed with pride as he finished the grand tour and led them back into the main dining area of the café. While they were in the kitchen, Sophie had asked all the right questions—while Grace had been praying that Cameron wouldn’t ask too many questions about their previous work experience as baristas. It was nice to see that Cameron was so gung ho about the Moose Café and all its trimmings. “It sure is beautiful,” Sophie said, her tone brimming with enthusiasm.

  “Thanks. It’s my pride and joy. Why don’t the two of you take a seat and I’ll bring you something to eat?” He gestured toward the dining area. The crowd literally parted as they made their way to one of the tables by the window. There were lots of curious stares and hats tipped in their direction. Several men rushed forward to pull their chairs out for them and stick menus in their hands. Sophie was all polite smiles and thank-yous while Grace was still trying to figure out how she was going to wing it as a barista. Thankfully the place was only open six hours a day.

  When she went to sit down she found the chair in front of her being wrenched to the left and then to the right. And back again. Two men were having a tug-of-war over the chair. They’d introduced themselves to her and Sophie earlier at the dock, although for the life of her she couldn’t remember either of their names. Henry? Theodore? She held up her hands, prepared to tell both of them to knock it off when they released the chair and began poking each other in the chest.

 
The sound of a sharp whistle rent the air. “Hey! What’s going on here?” She blinked in surprise to see Sheriff Boone at her side, his arm encircling her back in a protective gesture. He gently pushed her aside before stepping in between the two adversaries. He looked at one, then the other, his expression forbidding. “I hope neither one of you is doing anything that might warrant a trip to the sheriff’s office.” He continued to swing his gaze back and forth between both men. “I think it’s best to shake hands and apologize to the ladies for being overzealous.”

  The two men hung their heads, grudgingly shook hands and then mumbled brief words of apology before stepping into the background. Grace almost felt sorry for them. They’d slunk off like polecats.

  What in the world had just happened? Had two men actually been fighting over her in an Alaskan coffeehouse?

  Boone looked down at his watch and then pointedly back to her. “Congratulations, Miss Corbett. You’ve been in town for less than an hour, and you already have grown men fighting over you.”

  Chapter Two

  Heat warmed her cheeks as a result of Sheriff Prescott’s comment. Was she really being blamed for the mayhem that had just erupted? The last thing she wanted was for two local yokels to duke it out for her time and attention. She made a mental note to add this to her column for the Tribune. Men shamelessly brawling over a single woman in a local eating establishment. The sheriff of Love forced to break things up. It was thrilling to see how quickly anecdotes for her articles were beginning to materialize. Yet it was annoying to be blamed for something she’d had no part in.

  “I never wanted... I didn’t mean to—” she stammered, instantly losing her composure under the heat of his gaze.