Authors: Addison Fox
“Jess, he’s about a decade younger than me.”
“Which means his equipment is in prime condition,” Grier added as she reached for a handful of pretzels.
“Ronnie?” Avery glanced back over her shoulder, only to turn a ripe shade of plum when he smiled broadly and winked. She turned back quickly. “You cannot be serious.”
“Oh, we be serious,” Jess said, warming up to the topic. “It’s a long, cold winter and he’d be the perfect blanket. Trust me, I know about long, cold winters.”
“Which you no longer have to suffer through,” Avery added with a smile before laying her hand over Jess’s. “A fact I am incredibly happy for you about, but um, Ronnie? No.”
“Would you at least think about it?” Grier asked.
“I will if you seriously consider getting horizontal again with Mick.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t do that with Ronnie. I think I babysat him once.”
“Eww.” Grier lifted a hand. “Okay. Fair enough. We’ll shut up.”
“To small towns.” Jess lifted her glass. “There’s always baggage.”
“Like dirty diapers,” Grier added with a smile.
Avery threw a pretzel at her before clinking her beer merrily with the others. “To small towns.”
Grier felt the bench seat buzzing before Jess reached for the phone in her back pocket. The bright smile that lit up her face was a huge clue as to who was on the other end. “Excuse me.”
They watched her move across the bar to the quieter hallway that led to the restrooms, a spring in her step. “It’s so good to see her like this,” Avery said. “It was a long time coming.”
“She had feelings for Jack for a while?”
“A few years. She never looked at him when he was married, but after Molly died, something happened between them. It took her a long time to open up about it. She was afraid the town would think she’d simply gone after a newly available bachelor.”
“That’s awful.”
Avery’s smile grew overly bright. “Yeah, well, people can think a lot of awful.”
“I take it that’s something you know a little about.”
Grier knew the basics—that Avery and her high
school sweetheart, Roman, had parted ways years before when he left to join the National Hockey League. She also had a pretty good idea of how that had affected Avery.
What she didn’t know was why it continued to affect her, all these years later.
“People believe what they want to.” Avery’s voice was thoughtful after a sip of her beer. “Sometimes it’s easier to let them.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“Absolutely.”
“It still doesn’t change the fact that Ronnie’s been eyeing you like a thirsty man dying for water.”
Avery glanced back over at the bar, a smile spreading across her face. “It certainly is nice to be noticed.”
Grier lifted her beer. “I’ll drink to that.”
“Hear, hear.”
“Where’s Sloan?”
“She and Walker are over at Sophie’s.”
“And let me guess. Walker’s grandmother has gone into full-on wedding planning mode?”
Grier smiled. “They’ve been engaged less than a month and the female urge to plan weddings is running rampant from New York to Alaska.”
“It is one of the attributes that separates us from the animals,” Avery added.
Jess rejoined them mid-discussion on hemlines and train lengths. “Jack and Mick are finished up out at the airfield. They’ll be here shortly. I hope you don’t hate me for expanding this beyond girls’ night out.”
As Grier looked into Jess’s hopeful face, she knew
she couldn’t be so unkind as to say no. And if the prospect of seeing Mick filled her with dangerous anticipation, well…maybe girls’ night out was overrated.
Mick and Jack saw the three of them in a laughing heap in a back booth at Maguire’s. Mick slapped his partner on the back. “You go on ahead and I’ll snag us some longnecks at the bar.”
“Will do.”
He watched Jack walk away and couldn’t quite stamp out the slash of envy that lanced through him at his friend’s happy step. The man deserved it, Mick well knew. But damn, he wouldn’t mind a piece of it for himself.
Which was the exact reason he needed to kick back with a few beers and shake off this maudlin attitude that had hit him on his midafternoon delivery in Talkeetna.
Petey Stone, the town dry goods owner, had meant well. Hell, Mick had known the man since he was a kid and the guy didn’t have an unkind bone in his body.
It was just bad timing.
“How’s your father doing, Mick? Haven’t seen him for a while.”
Mick had wanted to respond back with
That makes two of us
, but he’d held back and offered up a big smile. “He’s been chasing wild things in Montana. I’ll let him know you asked after him.”
“You bet. Tell him I’m finally ready to part with that Winchester rifle he’s had his eye on.”
“Will do, Petey. How’s Sandy doing?”
“Fine, real good.”
“And I bet the grandkids are getting big….”
The conversation faded off in his mind as he reached for the longnecks Ronnie held out to him. With a smile and a wave toward the back of the bar, he added, “I suspect we’ll need another round before long as well.”
He left his credit card, irritated when he couldn’t quite shake off the afternoon.
A new rifle…Like hell he’d be sharing that bit of news with his father. Besides, he consoled himself as he shoved his wallet back in his pocket, by the time the old man managed to even get his ass back to town, it’d be summer. Petey would have sold the gun by then.
Which was fine by him.
Damn it
. Mick shook his head as he crossed toward the back booth. He had to get past it.
Had to loosen up a bit.
And found it hard to be surprised when the sight of Grier, her cheeks bright with color and a broad smile on her lush mouth, managed to help him do just that.
The hard pit of grief that had been lodged inside him all afternoon eased, shrinking as he sat down next to her. The warmth of her body burned into his where they touched, shoulder to hip to leg, and Mick felt a different sort of tightness grip him.
She felt good.
And when she didn’t scoot over or put room between them, that ball of lead in his stomach faded away entirely, replaced by the intoxicating thrill of being near her.
“I told Ronnie to send another round over when he gets a free minute.”
The three women let out a loud burst of giggles and all he could do was stare at Jack in what had to be a matched expression of puzzlement.
“There’s something funny about another round?”
“There is when it’s Ronnie bringing it,” Grier whispered. “He’s got a crush on Avery.”
“And has since he was about thirteen,” Jack added. “He was just always afraid Roman would come back and beat the shit out of him.”
“Like that would have happened. Besides, Roman wouldn’t beat up a kid.” Avery’s quick leap to Roman’s defense had Mick resisting the urge to smile. His old friend had fucked up royally when he’d walked out on Avery, but it was nice to see she could still defend him from time to time.
Mick had always thought it was a shame the two of them hadn’t found a way to stay friends. And even as he thought it, he had to admit that friendship wouldn’t be enough if Roman felt for Avery what Mick felt for Grier.
Maybe Avery and Roman had it right. Sever ties and move on.
The warmth of Grier’s body continued to heat him and a low-grade burn settled under his skin.
He wanted her.
No matter how much he wanted to respect her wishes, he couldn’t deny that. She had a powerful hold on him and he wanted to let loose with her.
“You sure you’re ready for Chooch and Hooch tomorrow?”
Mick clued back in on the conversation as Grier’s nervous laugh registered. “I’m not sure.”
“What is this?”
Grier lifted an eyebrow as she turned toward him in the booth. “You mean there’s actually someone in this town who doesn’t know my business?”
“I’ve been out on runs all day.”
“Well, I should be grateful it hasn’t made it to the airstrip yet.”
“You’re doing Chooch and Hooch’s taxes,” Jack said dryly over his beer.
“Damn it! I do not believe it.” Grier slapped a hand on the table. “News does travel fast.”
“Maggie’s got a bet going that their return this year will be over a cool million.”
“No way,” Jess breathed. “Have you seen that odd farm they live in? There’s no way they’ve got that much money.”
Jack held out a hand. “Wanna bet?”
“Well, whatever it is, I won’t be sharing the number.” Grier’s voice was prim and that spine of steel was back. Mick couldn’t help but admire the hell out of her convictions.
“Oh, we don’t expect you to tell,” Jack quickly reassured her. “Hooch’ll be all around town with the number before you even get their return e-mailed to the IRS.”
“You’re really doing this?” Mick couldn’t help asking.
“It’s not like I had a choice. Chooch is sort of a whirling dervish. And I was an easy mark this morning over at the Jitters.”
“How so?”
“I’m so bored, I’m about to start hand washing my clothes. With rocks,” Grier added as an afterthought.
“You know….” Jess leaned forward. “This isn’t a bad idea. Lots of folks could use help with their taxes. You’ve got a bit of time on your hands. Why don’t you set up shop and help them out?”
“This isn’t exactly my thing,” Grier said softly. “I’m a corporate accountant.”
“But you know how to do income taxes,” Jess said, pushing her point.
“Well, yeah. Of course. But it’s not like…” She broke off. “I guess it’s not a bad idea. And it would be nice to help out the people who have made me feel welcome here.”
“I’m sure Walker would let you set up in the office. And we’ve got a secure area to lock up the files each day.”
Mick felt the change in Grier almost immediately. A gentle hum vibrated off her as she turned the concept over in her mind. “You all really think this is a good idea?”
Mick turned toward her and laid a hand over hers. “I think it’s a great idea.”
“Y
ou don’t have to walk me back. It’s not that far.” Grier turned toward Mick as they walked out of Maguire’s. The hard bite of cold caught her by surprise—as it always did—and she rubbed her mittened hands together.
Damn, but she’d never known cold like this before. It infiltrated the bones and bit at the skin with sharp, gnawing teeth.
It was also strangely exhilarating.
“I could see Avery wasn’t ready to turn in yet and it’s clear you’re ready to go.”
“It doesn’t make people feel all that comfortable when their accountant has a hangover.”
“Funny thing, that. They feel pretty similar about their pilots.” Mick pulled on a pair of heavy gloves. “So we both have a good reason to leave.”
You could have an even better one than doing tax returns if you’d just let yourself see where things with him could go,
her conscience taunted.
That damn voice had gotten louder with each boring day that left her with nothing but her own thoughts for company. Loud and insistent, it had no problem
taunting her with the reminder that Mick would be ready, willing and able to help her pass the time.
And then it had gone and broken the sound barrier the moment Mick had sat down next to her in the booth, his long body edged alongside hers.
If only he weren’t so hot. It was hard to ignore a man who radiated heat like a furnace.
Right. Because that was the
only
reason. She’d also heard there was some nice waterfront property just outside town that someone would sell her.
The street was quiet as they moved down the sidewalk, the sounds of the bar fading behind them into the night air.
“We’re scheduled for another big storm. Look.” Mick pointed upward. “No stars.”
“Can you still fly?”
“Depends on the weather. If this is as bad as they expect it to be, we won’t make any runs tomorrow.”
Grier couldn’t put her finger on what it was, but something tinged the edges of his words. It wasn’t what he said, so much as something she sensed that hovered underneath. She’d felt it at the bar, too. He’d been quiet, smiling and nodding but not really saying much.
“You don’t sound too upset about it.”
“A day off’ll be a welcome change.”
“Is that all?” She wasn’t sure why she pressed—couldn’t have explained it if she’d tried.
“Sure, why?”
“I don’t know. You seem, well, a little sad.”
“Everything’s fine.” He reached for her elbow and pointed with his free hand. “Be careful there. Black ice.”
Grier sidestepped the ice, leaning into him as he pulled her closer. “Thanks.”
She didn’t say anything else, curious to see what he’d do.
“Why do you think I’m sad?”
“Just a sense, really.”
The hand at her elbow tightened reflexively and she wondered if Mick even noticed. “I ran into an old friend today on one of my runs. He said a few things and it just churned up a few memories. Nothing big.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Really. It’s nothing.” He pulled her to his side again, dropping her elbow to wrap a hand around her waist. “There’s another patch. Watch it.”
“Okay.” She wanted to ask more—wanted to understand why something that wasn’t a big deal had put him in a mood—but knew she had no right to push.
So instead, Grier reveled in the feel of his strong arm around her body and was glad when he didn’t move away. The odd dance between them—a step forward, another back—had a funny sweetness to it she was loath to give up.
She didn’t want to be a tease, but neither could she ignore the way he made her feel.
Safe and wanted. And special. Very, very special.
“You’re awfully quiet.” Mick’s arm tightened on her waist.
“It’s a quiet…”
Her words evaporated as her foot hit a patch of ice. On sheer instinct she turned toward him, her hands seeking purchase wherever she could get a good grip.
The movements were ineffective, doing nothing more than sending him off-balance so they both went sprawling.
“Night.” Grier couldn’t hold back the laughter as she inhaled a mouthful of leather from his jacket. Pushing on his arm, she tried to dislodge the heavy weight he made on her chest.