No Gentle Giant: A Small Town Romance Read online

  “Are...are you sure Eli’s the kid between you?” I throw back, wiping a hot tear off my cheek.

  “Every grown man’s just an overgrown boy.” He swings his leg a little, then pats his knee. “But you’re not a half-bad nurse. Already feelin’ better. So what about those rumors?”

  This time when I choke, it’s on a little bitterness.

  “So much for changing the uncomfortable subject,” I whisper.

  “Hey, you don’t want to talk about it, we won’t,” he tells me. Simple. Matter-of-fact. Calmly accepting. “But it seems to be bothering you, so if there’s anything I can do to help...”

  “Unless you’ve got a time machine hidden in that beard, no. You can’t help something you didn’t do.” I sigh, leaning back and looking up at him. Then I force myself to be honest. “My dad was a messed-up guy, and people around here have long memories. They figure I must be a lot like him, or maybe they just need constant gossip, so yeah. Rumors. About things they think I’ll do with men for money. And since you’ve got a kid, I figured you’d want to know the crap people will say about you coming back here alone with me before they get back to your wife.”

  Ugh.

  Did that sound like I’m fishing?

  Alaska regards me gravely, though there’s no anger, no revulsion. Nothing but that same gentle curiosity, and I wonder why.

  Why is he looking at me like he’s...

  ...I don’t know.

  What could he possibly want to know about me to look on with such quiet interest, thoughtful and unwavering?

  I get a little relief when he looks away, sweeping his thick hair back with a hand as thick as an ancient oak branch. His eyelids narrow, not quite shuttering, but there’s a pensiveness there.

  “We got something in common. You mentioned your old man in the past tense,” he says. “We speak of Eli’s mother in the past tense, too.”

  My heart jerks and goes spinning down in flames.

  “Oh.” I swallow. “I’m so sorry, Alaska. That was insensitive of me.”

  “You’re fine. I imagine it’s as complex as whatever led people to think you turn tricks for side money.” He smiles slightly, shifting his thick mass of a beard as black as coal in his fingers. “People can be so unkind, can’t they? What you do, with who, for whatever reasons...that’s nobody’s business but your own. I doubt there’s a lick of truth behind those rumors, but I’ll tell you something. Eli and I aren’t so fragile that we can’t handle a little mud flying.” He grins, suddenly brightening that hint of melancholy. “That kid loves getting dirty. Just ask him about dirt bikes.”

  “You’ve got the dad jokes down, all right.” I laugh incredulously. “You really don’t let much get to you, do you?”

  “I worry about what needs worryin’ about, Miss Felicity.” He shrugs, hefting those mountains for shoulders like they weigh nothing, pulling his shirt tight against his chest in creases of cotton strained to its limit. “Frankly, I don’t think your misplaced reputation needs any fussing over.”

  I’m not expecting the quiet, easy way he says it.

  So sincere.

  So kind.

  I’m definitely not expecting the way my throat closes up, my eyes prickling with heat.

  Look, I’ve had a stressful few months. Years. Life.

  I’m a little on edge, and a little emotionally raw.

  But he saves me from having to fumble for words by turning a roguish smile on me, mock-squinting. “You, though. I’ve got my eye on you. I think you could be trouble.”

  My laugh this time comes out weaker. “I wish that wasn’t true. I’m kind of a bad luck trap, Alaska.”

  “Like an avalanche of coffee mugs?”

  “Yep. Just like a mug storm.”

  Another silence.

  Another smile that makes my heart wobble.

  Another long look from him, one that makes me wonder how he went from “coffee girl I vaguely recognize” to a sort of confidante in a matter of minutes. All over some smashed mugs and a cut on his knee.

  But, hey, at least I’m not going to break down crying in front of a total stranger because he has mercy on me and changes the subject.

  “So what’s the damage, lady? Give me all of it. Don’t forget the table, too.”

  “We’ll forget the table. And the floor. Call it pain and injury compensation.” I smile wryly. “We’re at a cool eight hundred for the mugs, though. Manufacturer cost. I’m not charging you full retail.”

  “You got it. I’d pay up now, but I’m not carrying eight hundred in cash around with me.” He cocks his head. “I’ll bring it by in the morning unless you want a check? Ladies’ choice.”

  “No rush, but cash is fine.”

  Too easy. Even if I’m already doubting the wisdom of keeping that much cash around here for more than a day or two, but that’s another problem I don’t want to think about right now.

  So I stand, bracing my hands to my knees and levering up.

  Of course, I forget not just how small my office is, but how much space Alaska occupies.

  As I straighten and lift my head, I find myself practically eye to eye with him, and only because sitting on my desk knocked off like a foot from his titanic height.

  I lock up, my heart crawling up my throat as I stare, barely an inch away from our noses touching.

  This jittery little fantasy.

  It’s not quite insta-love, but it’s bad.

  If he didn’t still look so calm and unfazed, I’d probably dissolve into a stammering mess. But it’s like his inner chill stabilizes me, and I’m able to skitter back without tripping, clearing my throat and finding another smile in me.

  Somewhere.

  “Should we check on Eli?” I tilt my head toward the door. “Either he’s cleaned the whole shop by now or bailed.”

  Alaska snorts. “He knows better, but yeah. He’s probably getting a little anxious out there.”

  I sweep a mock-bow, pulling the door open for him. “Polar bears first.”

  He throws back an evil eye over his shoulder.

  “I’m gonna regret telling you that,” he grumbles.

  If he does, he’s grinning as he steps into the hall and waits for me to lock up before we head back to the front of the shop.

  I’m a little surprised to find the floor’s been neatly swept. Just as we come around the coffee bar, Eli’s head pokes up from behind it, a little disheveled and winded but smiling.

  “Hey,” he says. “Sorry, I was looking for the trash.”

  He dumps out the dustpan in the bin, then leans the broom on the bar and steps out, swiping his hands together. I sweep a look over the floor and let out an appreciative chirp.

  “Clean as a whistle. Nice job, Eli.”

  “Dad says I have to do things right the first time, or I’ll just wind up having to do them again.” Eli starts toward the table—which has split clean in two, but at least it’s not shattered glass everywhere. “I can push this against the wall.”

  “Ah—no, leave that alone.” I hold a hand out, staggering forward. “It’s heavy and I don’t want you to cut yourself. I’ve got it.”

  Eli pauses, glancing at Alaska like he’s asking for permission.

  Alaska nods.

  “She’s right. But—”

  Before I can stop him, Alaska’s gripping the heavy table by its polished edges and hefting it up, his arms bunching and straining.

  You can bet all the people who were pretending not to stare as we came out are watching him now as he easily maneuvers the pieces out of the way and leans them against the wall next to the door.

  I’m watching, too.

  I’m stressed out, not dead.

  I yank my eyes back from his pectorals to his face as he straightens and nods. “There you go. Anything else?”

  “Don’t forget this.” I reach over the bar and snag his full growler jug, swinging it over and offering it to him. “On the house.”

  “As gracious as she is gorgeous.” H
e flashes me a wink and a grin, hooking the handle with a finger. “I’ll be back tomorrow for the crew.” He catches Eli playfully by the scruff of his shirt. “Say good night, Eli.”

  “Good night, ma’am!” he belts out, waving as he turns to follow his father.

  I watch them go with a smile, then stop as I realize everyone in the café is staring at me. Still.

  Ugh.

  Peace’s last song just ended—I think she lost her groove with the catastrophe and decided to pack up early with the thinning crowd—but she’s still perched on her stool, hugging her guitar and watching me with a bemused little smile.

  “What?” I say, groaning a little as I slip back behind the bar. “C’mon, at least the place didn’t catch fire this time. Get in line! One free drink on the house for everyone—just quit staring.”

  There’s a general round of laughter, a little applause.

  Honestly, the people here aren’t terrible.

  It’s only a few of the uglier ones who like to judge me by my family’s past, but overall the people of Heart’s Edge have been good to me. Kind. Even holding fundraisers to save my café.

  And if a few card-carrying members of the Single Lady Vulture Squad want to keep glaring daggers, well...

  It’s not like anything actually happened with Mr. Polar Bear.

  But my heart’s skipping a heck of a lot over a whole lot of nothing, and that’s just silly.

  The evening roundup keeps me busy for nearly an hour, slinging drinks and mentally tallying what costs I’m eating just to keep people’s goodwill and calm the general atmosphere.

  It’s not a big deal, though, and it’s soothing for me to put together each drink.

  By the time Mitch returns to apologize—this time without the dog, wife, or kids—I’m laughing, teasing Peace.

  She claims it wasn’t the ruckus that ended her show early tonight, blaming sore fingers. I know the real reason is the chuckling man pulling her into his arms with a lopsided grin, rocking slightly as he hugs her close, favoring his movements on one leg.

  I slide Blake his usual coffee—not that he notices me when he’s so focused on his wife—then turn a smile on Mitch.

  “Hey, man. You okay? That was quite a show.”

  “Yeah, sure was. I didn’t get hit. Neither did the kids or Momo, thank God. I’m real sorry about that, again,” he says with a sigh. “Didn’t know the cat would be here. Left Momo at home, though. That pup’s way too keyed up. But if you want me to pay anything, I’ll—”

  “No way.” I hold up a hand. “It’s covered. We’re good, Mitch. No harm, no foul. Did you still want to order up?”

  “Please! If my gal doesn’t get her late-night caffeine jolt, she’s out before the kids.” Then he pauses, braces his hands against the counter, and leans in, dropping his voice as he looks left and right. “Listen, though...after you close up tomorrow, do you think we could talk?”

  Uh-oh.

  There it is.

  My internal warning, sounding red alert.

  See, I knew that incident with the mugs was just a fake-out to lull me into a false sense of complacency.

  Lady Luck isn’t done screwing me just yet.

  I set down the mug I was wiping out, eyeing Mitch warily. “Probably. I can have the part-timers close up if it’s urgent.”

  “Not urgent, maybe, but well...I don’t know. Just don’t feel like I should talk about it here. It’s about that car you sold me.”

  “Dad’s old junker?”

  I blink.

  That old truck hasn’t worked right in years. It was just sitting at my place, gathering dust, ever since my father died. It’s practically an antique, which is why I figured selling it for parts was a better idea than spending the money to fix it up myself and sell it to a collector. So I turned it over to Mitch, and figured that was the last I’d have to think about it.

  Mitch nods, leaning in closer. “I found something taped under the seat, and I think it was your dad’s. I thought you should have it.”

  Every nerve in my body hums.

  “What is it?” I ask slowly, even if I’m honestly afraid to know the answer.

  Yeah, this is officially worse than I thought.

  Anything related to Dad and his dirty deeds is bad, bad news.

  I think Mitch knows that, too, or he wouldn’t be so secretive.

  He wouldn’t give me the look he does, long and dark and dire.

  “Not here,” he says. “I’ll be at the shop tomorrow until midnight. Just knock.”

  “Okay,” I murmur, but what I really mean is Oh God, no.

  I have enough ghosts rattling my cage.

  Please.

  Please don’t let Dad’s be coming back to haunt me.

  2

  All That Glitters (Alaska)

  I love a good sunset.

  But seeing them consistently by seven p.m. every night sure as hell weirds me out.

  I’m from the land of the midnight sun. In Fairbanks, we don’t see sunset till it’s almost tomorrow sometimes, and I’m used to falling asleep with that bright glowing ball still high in the sky or hiding itself completely for months.

  Today, though, I’m sitting on the back porch after dinner, lounging at the cozy little cabin I’m renting at the Charming Inn, just watching the sun sink below that pretty flower-decked cliff.

  I’m supposed to be enjoying a beer and watching the stars come out. My nightly ritual.

  Instead, I’m listening to Eli’s voice drifting through the window. He’s in the living room, screwing around on his tablet and talking to himself as enthusiastically as if he’s got a live audience.

  He does that.

  It’s funny most of the time, and right now he’s mumbling over cat treats like he’s just struck gold.

  All because I told him it was cool to pick something out online to try to make amends with that ball of grizzled tangerine that looks like someone stripped a pipe cleaner and clumped the fuzz into a cat.

  We’ve seen Mozart around a few times since yesterday, though he’s apparently mad enough that he’s ignoring Eli instead of coming around begging for scraps like usual.

  Not gonna lie, I was a little worried after he scampered out of Miss Felicity’s coffee shop with that dog barking at his heels. Still, Ms. Wilma herself told me he’s a roamer, and he always finds his way home—just like he always seems to bond with the summer kids who come through here with tourists or new transplants.

  A lot like Eli himself.

  Guess he’s a transplant now, huh?

  I’m glad.

  My boy means everything.

  And after everything his mama put us through, we’ve learned to rely on each other.

  It’s been hell not having him with me during the months I spent here with Holt last year, getting set up, working out whether or not this was a place where I wanted to put down roots.

  I had to decide if, after all the hell I’ve heard about this town, it’s a good place to raise my boy into a young man.

  Heart’s Edge has one hell of a colorful history.

  Everything from ghost stories to secret agents to ghost towns. Half the folks here lived through several real-life thrillers over the last decade, and the last big blowouts left millions of dollars in damage needing to be rebuilt over the lenses of tourists and a gaggle of national reporters.

  Even so, I’ve got a good feeling about this place.

  I couldn’t leave my kid in Fairbanks any longer, either.

  Sure, he was having fun, getting spoiled as hell by his grandparents over the summer. My mom and dad haven’t spoken to me in a while.

  Age-old complications from me picking the wrong side when it came to my family and my wife, even if I thought I was doing the right thing at the time.

  Thankfully, with Katelyn and her “bad influence,” as Ma put it, out of the picture, it’s different now.

  My folks were overjoyed for a chance to spend last summer treating Eli like a prince, while I worked
my ass off putting away a tidy nest egg to settle down with and scouted this place out to see if it could really be home.

  Yeah.

  I think I could settle down in Heart’s Edge, and not just because there’s a certain pretty lady who’s caught my eye.

  A certain pretty lady who’s probably pretty pissed at me right now, considering I still owe her a nice chunk of change for those mugs Eli obliterated.

  I’d like to stay on Miss Felicity’s good side.

  Not just because she’s the primary source of caffeine that keeps my crew on their feet all day, either.

  Because I haven’t looked at a woman in a long damned while.

  Not after that mess with Katelyn, the divorce and custody crap even before she died. It felt like a good idea to stay far, far away from anything but friendship with the fairer sex.

  Then came last night.

  I don’t know what the fuck happened.

  There was something about Felicity.

  A lot of things about her.

  The way she dove to protect Eli.

  How she fussed over that tiny cut I didn’t even feel, insisting on looking after me rather than staying mad that my kid just smashed up her merchandise.

  Plus that quiet, sad way she talked about herself, all while trying to protect me and Eli from the dangers of her supposed reputation.

  I know what I thought when I was looking at her with that pretty cinnamon-brown head of hair bowed over my knee with her eyes so lost.

  Her lashes were lowered over gently angled eyes that normally give her a sly, laughing look. This time they just turned those soft violet-blue depths in her head sad and dark and reflective.

  The storm in my blood hit like two colliding fronts.

  I was so goddamned angry.

  I didn’t want her to see it, didn’t want her to think I was angry at her, but holy fuck do I hate when people take it on themselves to hurt other people for their own amusement.

  All that shit about gossip? Rumors? Those horrible things people say about her, and she’s still trying to protect other people from it like it’s her fault?

  I don’t know her from Eve.

  Whatever.

  I just know right then, I wanted to step in. Step in and stand between her and everything poisoning her life the very same way she stood between Eli and getting hurt.