Come Fly With Me (20 page)

And once sought, he’d allowed himself to be caught.

The teasing smile dropped and Kate sat back. “That bad? What a shame.”

As if finally finding his voice, he said, “What’s a shame?”

“I thought you were a stand-up guy. A confused guy, but a decent one all the same. It looks like I was mistaken.”

Kate stood and he wanted to ask her to stay. He was technically a free man and, to Kate’s incredibly astute observations, the woman he was up here looking to win back was interested in spending her personal time elsewhere.

But something held him back.

The sad truth was, he hadn’t been a stand-up guy. When it counted, he’d not only dropped the ball, but he’d betrayed the one person he’d selected to be his ally on the field.

If he couldn’t make things work with a woman who came from within his social circle, it’d be a damn stupid idea to start playing with someone who came from outside of it. He couldn’t go backward and make up his actions to Grier, but he didn’t have to drag someone else into his mess.

Especially when that someone was Grier’s sister.

Kate picked up her coffee and tapped him on the shoulder as she passed alongside his chair. “You don’t seem all that hung up on Grier’s social calendar. An odd reaction for a fiancé, if you ask me.”

It was an odd reaction, but he
wasn’t
all that hung up about it. He was man enough to admit it chafed his
pride, but beyond that, all he felt was a glorious sense of freedom.

It was just too bad that the woman walking away from him was off-limits.

Something buried in the recesses of his heart began to beat—in that place where he’d hidden away all of his conflicted thoughts and emotions for as long as he could remember.

And as he watched Kate Winston walk away, Jason allowed his mind to wander to a place where things might be different. Where she wasn’t off-limits.

To a place where Kate Winston might be his.

“N
ow Grier, that’s not the way it happened and you know it!” Sloan’s laughter carried through the kitchen and the other women were quick to come to her aid.

“I believe you, Sloan,” Sophie added. “My grandson didn’t pick a shy retiring wallflower; I just know it.”

Grier enjoyed the way Sophie came to Sloan’s aid and she knew her friend was in good hands with Walker’s family. They’d been together only a short time, but it was clear they’d already accepted her.

“Fine,” Sloan said on an exaggerated sigh. “I’ll tell the story.”

Grier settled in to hear the story the two of them had spent years recounting like a Laurel and Hardy routine and reveled in the soft, sweet glow that surrounded her. Dinner had long since ended and they’d moved back into the kitchen for coffee, dessert and more conversation.

God, did it feel good, Grier thought, to be standing here, spending time with these people.

Their hockey double-header over, the men had joined them after dinner and it hadn’t escaped her notice how
Mick had hovered nearby, his glances and light touches full of promise.

She knew things would change on their trip. And she knew even more that she wanted them to.

But none of it could change the fact that after they took the trip to the North Slope, she’d have gotten what she’d come for.

Walker had already reviewed the letters and was preparing the paperwork to get Kate’s arguments for contesting the will thrown out.

It was only a matter of time before she’d be leaving Indigo.

Mary patted her arm, drawing Grier’s attention off her thoughts. “Would you help me? I want to get the coffee and begin slicing the dessert.”

“Of course.”

Grier followed her to a small butler’s area off the main kitchen, still amazed by the extraordinary size of the house. Mary pointed toward a small refrigerator built into the wall. “The cake’s in there. I just want to get the coffee started.”

“Thank you for the invitation to dinner,” Grier said as she set the cake on the counter. “This has been absolutely lovely.”

“A fitting send-off before heading into the far reaches of Alaska.”

Grier fumbled a bit as she pulled the plastic wrapper off the top of the cake. She wanted to make some reference to Fairbanks, but the omission of the real purpose of their trip felt like a lie if she voiced it.

“Barrow’s a cold, hard place. But it’s also a place of unique beauty if you peel back the layers.”

Grier crumpled the plastic wrap and turned toward Mary. “You know where we’re going?”

The older woman nodded but only smiled. “I’ve always thought Barrow was a metaphor for Alaska itself. It was built out of sheer will and determination. It’s amazing what those two things—and a good old-fashioned dose of human spirit—can do.”

“I’m not trying to lie to anyone about going up there.” Grier reached for a large knife in a wooden holder to cut the cake. “I just haven’t wanted to be very public about it. And this trip has become a surprisingly well-known secret.”

“You should be able to keep a few thoughts as your own. That’s one of the hardest things about living in such a small town. Sometimes people forget there are things they have no business knowing.”

“I need to know my father.”

“Of course you do.” Mary scooped coffee into the open lid of the filter. “And you’re entitled to that.”

They both worked in companionable silence as Grier wondered at Mary’s words.

Was she entitled to it?

It was the one thing she’d been unable to reconcile to herself since learning of her father. He’d clearly not wanted anything to do with her in life. While the packet of her mother’s letters had shed some light on why he’d kept his distance, the reality was that she was no longer a child and hadn’t been for some time.

And he’d still not made an outreach to her, long after her mother’s influence was past.

“He’d be proud of you,” Mary said as the coffeepot began to brew. She reached into the cabinets above the counter and pulled down a set of small dessert plates. “The woman you’ve become.”

“Did you know him well?”

“Well enough. Everyone knows everyone in Indigo, but he and my husband were poker buddies. Sat in that kitchen more Wednesday nights than I can count, giving each other a hard time over cards.”

Grier smiled at the thought. No matter how much she struggled with what never had a chance to develop between them, every little glimpse into Jonas Winston’s life was an enticing puzzle piece. And if she gathered enough of them, Grier knew, she might have a picture to fill her memories.

“Grier.”

She turned toward Mick’s grandmother, the woman’s vivid gaze—so like her grandson’s—sharp and aware. “I see the way my grandson looks at you.”

“Mrs. O’Shaughnessy—”

Mary held up a hand. “Please. Let me finish. I see how he looks at you and I know how much he cares for you. And there’s nothing to be done if you don’t feel the same way. But I want you to promise me you’ll give it a chance.”

“He and I come from very different worlds.”

“And you also come from the same one.” Her words were steel. “Don’t forget that.”

*    *    *

Mick mixed his grandmother a highball and listened with a small smile as Mary walked Grier around the living room. The rest of the dinner party had already left, but Mary had asked them to stay a little longer.

He set her drink on the coffee table and settled himself on the long sofa that dominated the far wall of the room. Something warm expanded in his chest as he watched his grandmother and Grier, their heads bent together over a small table full of pictures.

And it was only when he heard Grier’s voice that the harshest of realities intruded on the moment.

“Who’s that?”

“Mick’s mother.”

“She’s beautiful.” Grier picked up the photo and Mick already knew the image she saw—that of a bright, smiling woman with long black hair and dancing blue eyes, her arms spread out along the edges of a park bench.

The picture had been taken at his eighth birthday party, after the guests had departed. His father had snapped it and he’d boasted to anyone who would listen that his wife looked that gorgeous after spending the afternoon keeping up with fifteen eight-year-old boys.

“Mick, your mother is beautiful. Why haven’t you mentioned her?”

He shrugged, careful to keep his voice neutral. “It just hasn’t come up.”

“She’s passed, dear,” Mary said as she gently took the frame. He saw Grier give the photo up willingly
and move on to another and the knot in his gut began to loosen.

Fuck, how could he have not thought this through?

It wasn’t a secret, exactly. Hell, the whole damn town knew. But it just wasn’t something he discussed. Ever.

And he’d sure as hell be damned if he’d discuss it while she stood there looking all dewy and perfect and unspoiled.

Because his mother’s death was none of those things.

It was in the past. And he was unwilling to allow the truth in to make its ugly mark in his present.

Mick walked around the front of the SUV after settling her in the passenger seat. Grier couldn’t stop the flutter of nerves that whispered under her skin at the thoughtfulness of his gesture.

He was a consummate gentleman. Kind and thoughtful. A man who knew how to treat a woman like a lady.

And he’d been more than patient with her.

Maybe it was that knowledge, she thought to herself, that had finally made the decision so very, very easy.

“We’ve got an early morning tomorrow. I’ll pick you up around six to head out to the airstrip.” Mick eased away from the curb and headed down his grandmother’s street, stopping at the light on Main.

“I think you make a right here.” Grier pointed in the opposite direction of the hotel.

“The hotel’s to the left.”

She heard the distinctly puzzled tone of his response and smiled to herself. He was a gentleman to the core; her instructions hadn’t even registered.

“I realize I’ve never been there, but I believe your home is to the right.”

Mick put the SUV in park and turned toward her. “Grier.”

“I’d like to see your home, Mick. I think it’s time.”

She saw the questions in the vivid blue of his gaze. “If you’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

The drive to his cabin didn’t take long and she didn’t miss the sense of anticipation that arced between them as he drove down the small, narrow road that led out of Indigo. Within moments, they were pulling up to a small cabin with a warm light burning in the front window.

She took in the small frame of the house and realized that it suited him. It was both rugged as well as an oasis of calm in the middle of a harsh, unforgiving land.

Sort of like Mick.

He came around to help her out of the car and as his gloved hand covered hers, she knew she was making the right decision.

The front door of the cabin was unlocked and he opened the door, then gestured her through it.

“It’s not much.”

Grier looked around the warm, inviting room and saw Mick indelibly stamped in every bit of it. The space was sparsely furnished, with a large TV dominating
one wall and a thick-cushioned, L-shaped leather couch filling the other side of the room.

She stamped her booted feet on a braided rug near the door before toeing off her heavy boots. An image teased her memories of the first time they were together—when her boots got stuck on her jeans—and she wasn’t interested in repeating the experience.

Satisfied she wasn’t at risk of falling flat on her face in a second display of grace and decorum, she turned to smile at him. “Your home is lovely and rather like what I imagined.”

He pulled her coat from her shoulders, his breath warm at her ear as he spoke. “And what did you imagine?”

Grier turned into the heat. “Pretty much this. Although I did expect the TV to be bigger.”

She reveled in the heavy bark of laughter he emitted as he moved to settle her coat on a rack by the door. “It’s fifty-seven inches.”

“Well.” Grier shrugged. “You are a bachelor. Isn’t your TV sacrosanct or something?”

“Grier,” he mumbled as he moved back to wrap her in his arms. “I really don’t want to talk about my TV.”

She lifted her head back to nip a quick kiss on his chin. “I really don’t want to talk about your TV, either.”

With infinite tenderness, he laid a hand on either side of her face and tilted her head until their gazes locked. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me, too.”

He lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers.
The delicious warmth that had filled her since Mick had whispered in her ear while removing her coat spread throughout her body. Her limbs filled with a combination of lazy ease and urgent need.

They stood in the living room for several long moments, the contact of their mouths reaffirming the want and longing that had danced between them for the last month.

“What changed your mind?”

Grier pulled back, breathless. “A lot of things, but you make it so easy just to be me. Other than my friendship with Sloan and now, Avery, I never feel comfortable in my own skin with anyone. But you give me that and I’m tired of making excuses to myself for why I should deny it.”

He ran a finger down her cheek before cupping her face in his palm. “This is unchartered territory for me.”

“For me, too.”

At his skeptical look, she rushed on, not wanting a discussion of Jason to spoil the moment. “I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you. And no one’s ever made me feel as disoriented as you. So when I say me, too, I mean it.”

“I believe you.”

“Then make love to me.”

His eyes had gone a deep sapphire in the soft light of the room and his furrowed brow relaxed as his mouth spread into a broad smile. “I think I can die a happy man.”

She smiled up at him. “Maybe you can wait about another hour before expiring on me?”

As laughter shook his shoulders, she wrapped her arms tight around him and held on as he scooped her up.

“I’ll do my best.”

Mick stared down at the woman in his arms, bone-deep satisfaction spreading through him with each step he took toward the bedroom. He knew they’d made progress—knew instinctively over the last week they were moving toward something deeper between the two of them—but he’d been willing to give her space.