Come Fly With Me (29 page)

As the lure of sleep overtook her, Grier gave in and let it come.

“W
hat did you find out in Barrow?” Sloan demanded the following night as they settled themselves into Avery’s suite.

Grier looked at her two friends and marveled again at the easy camaraderie among the three of them. Her trip with Mick had been exhilarating on one hand and confusing as hell on another and she was deeply grateful for the company of friends as she tried to puzzle through it.

She’d gone to the North Slope hoping for answers and she’d gotten them.

They just hadn’t filled her with the warm, fuzzy feelings she’d hoped for. Add to it the horrifyingly sad story from Mick’s past and the last two days had been an emotional roller coaster.

“First I want to know what’s going on with Avery and Roman. It was all anyone could talk about out at the airstrip.”

Avery groaned as she finished pouring mugs of hot chocolate all around. “Don’t think asking me about this morning’s train wreck is going to get you out of telling us about your trip with Mick.”

“You expect me to kiss and tell?” Grier asked as she reached for a mug.

“Yes.” The uniform—and immediate—reply came from the two of them.

“I want to know what happened here. Mick and I are old news. Roman being a jerk is new news.”

“Well, when you put it that way.”

“Actually, it’s sort of refreshing. I figured Mick and I’d get a grilling upon our return and instead Maggie started in about Roman the moment Mick and I got within three feet of her.”

“What did she say?”

“That he acted like a major ass at the hotel this morning.”

“That’s an understatement,” Avery mumbled as she blew on her hot chocolate. “But where he made his tactical error was being an asshole in front of Chooch.”

“What was Chooch doing at the hotel this morning?” Sloan frowned. “Clearly, living at Walker’s, just across the square, I might add, is hell on my gossip meter. This is the first I’m hearing of it.”

“Roman’s in town with the network people so they can film a piece on him. Which is why Chooch was at the hotel this morning, parked in the lobby dressed to the nines and hoping she’ll get some airtime.”

“Was Myrtle with her?” Sloan asked suspiciously.

Avery rolled her eyes. “She arrived about a half hour later, pissed Chooch showed her up.”

“That explains her mood today. Walker came home at lunch, so mad he was spitting nails. He swore he was going to fire her.”

Avery set her mug down on her small coffee table and reached for one of the cookies she’d set out. “Just so you know, he’s been saying that he was going to fire Myrtle since the day he hired her. You’ll learn to ignore that one.”

“Come on, come on.” Grier pushed Avery. “I want the rest of the story. Why was Roman an asshole?”

“He’s mad I’m going to Ireland.”

“You’re what!” Sloan screamed, and Grier couldn’t hold back the smile.

“I’m going on an exchange.” Grier waited while Avery caught Sloan up on the program she’d applied for and made a mental note to pick up something green for her.

Even if it was petty, Grier couldn’t say she was all that sorry Roman was suffering at Avery’s expense. “So, let me see if I’ve put the pieces together. Roman’s decided that’s just too far away for you to go on a trip, out in the big bad world all on your own.”

“Bingo.”

“And he’s decided that it’s up to him to tell you about this and warn you off going,” Sloan added.

“Right again.”

“I hope you told him to fuck off.” Grier knew it wasn’t a very kind sentiment, but Roman had walked away from Avery and their relationship. The idea that he felt he had a say as she made such a positive step forward just wasn’t fair.

“In not so many words. And I have to tell you, I’m having way more fun than I ever expected telling him it’s none of his business.”

Grier smiled and raised her mug. “You should. He has no say in your choices.”

Sloan leaned forward, her blue eyes bright with excitement. “But the fact he seems to think he does have a say is rather interesting, don’t you think?”

“He wouldn’t even know about it if he weren’t here for the TV piece.”

“But he is here and he does know about it,” Sloan persisted. “And his reaction
is
interesting.”

“Interesting, maybe, but totally misplaced. He and I have had no relationship since he left for New York other than the occasional sighting at the hotel.”

“He does send you the wine.” Grier felt the need to point that out. “That glorious Rothschild that you’ve neglected to share in the new year, even though I know for a fact you received a brand-new shipment before the holidays.”

“Smooth,” Sloan whispered.

“I’m not trying to be smooth; I’m trying to be obvious.” Grier continued to press her point. “It’s especially interesting as I’ve yet to even see Susan pick up a drink. Despite his teetotaler mother, that glorious, phenomenal vintage shows up like clockwork, addressed to the woman running the Indigo’s bar.”

Avery shrugged, but Grier didn’t miss the slight tilt of her head as she considered the curiosity of the wine.

“Not that I want to stir up old wounds, but I have to agree with Sloan on this one. His behavior doesn’t match the situation.”

“Well, it still doesn’t change anything.” Avery
reached for another cookie, a broad smile riding her mouth. “And I’m still going to Ireland.”

Grier held her mug up and waited for the others to do the same. “Hear, hear. To new adventures.”

Mick made the motion for another round to their waitress before turning back to his friends. He and Grier had gotten back before lunch and he’d spent the afternoon catching up on the dreaded paperwork that never seemed to end.

When Walker had called inviting him out for a few beers, he’d jumped at the opportunity like a drowning man reaching for a life preserver.

“Maguire’s is hopping.” Roman looked around. “When did this place get so popular?”

“When everyone found out your camera crew might show up to get a few shots of the locals,” Walker added dryly.

Mick took a drag on his longneck. “To be fair, they do a decent business on the weekends, but random Wednesdays don’t usually see this much action.”

“How’d the trip to the North Slope go?” Walker dug into the beer nuts on the table.

“I think Grier got answers, just not the ones she was hoping for.”

“It’s a bad situation all the way around,” Walker muttered.

“Well, it’ll be over soon now that Grier’s got the letters.”

“A few more days. I’ve already filed the motions and
we should have this resolved by the end of the week,” Walker said.

“She found out about my mom.”

Mick didn’t miss the glance that crossed between Roman and Walker before Walker asked, “How?”

“We ran into one of my customers in Fairbanks. He mentioned a gun for sale for my dad and she saw the temperature drop about thirty degrees between us before it all got as awkward as hell.”

“She figured it out on just that?” Roman asked before taking a large swig on his beer. “A bit of body language?”

“Yep.”

The same melancholy that had ridden him on the flight home settled once again in his bones. While he didn’t want to talk about his mother—had no interest in ever talking again about what had happened to her—Grier hadn’t been completely off base. He had been riding her pretty hard to open up and take a chance.

And then he went and fucked it up by clamming up and refusing to talk.

Their waitress interrupted his thoughts as she laid another round on the table. As he glanced up at her to offer her a smile, his gaze caught on the front door and Jason Shriver as he walked through it.

Poetic,
Mick thought. Another subject he and Grier refused to discuss at any level of depth.

Roman caught his gaze. “Who’s that?”

“Grier’s ex-fiancé.”

“Ex?” Roman’s eyebrows shot up. “What the hell have I missed?”

“More than you know.”

Something itched at Mick as he watched the guy take a lone seat at the bar and give his order. He also didn’t miss the glance Jason had given Kate as his eyes found her at a table across the bar when he walked in.

Curious.

Ronnie laid a glass in front of him and Mick saw the unmistakable shape of a bottle of Patrón as it was lifted off the back shelf. “Excuse me.”

He crossed the crowded expanse of tables and a series of not-so-subtle scattered glances followed his progress as he approached the bar. “Make it two, Ronnie.”

“Sure thing, Mick.”

“And put them on my tab as well as whatever else Mr. Shriver wants.”

Jason’s gaze was inscrutable, but he shifted in welcome and pointed to the empty seat next to him. “Feel free to join me.”

“I believe I will.”

Ronnie laid out the shots and Mick avoided all the fuss of the salt and lime, preferring the smooth perfection of the liquor as it slid down his throat. Warmth filled his chest as he drank it down and he was reminded of an old saying his grandfather used to use with gusto:
“Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker.”

“How was your trip?”

“Eventful.” Mick reached for the fresh beer he’d carried over to the bar.

“I understand Grier went up there to find out more about her father. Did she get it?”

“In a manner of speaking.” He saw the question in Jason’s raised eyebrows and clarified. “She learned more about both of her parents on this trip.”

“Her mother’s a piece of work,” Jason snorted as he reached for the glass of bourbon Ronnie had poured him. “Between Patrice Thompson and my father, I’m not sure who grew up with more dysfunction, but I’d likely give her the edge.”

“I’d say Grier turned out well in spite of all that.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Jason stared into his glass. “They’re the reason I’m up here. My father and her mother. Both suggested it would be a good idea to correct my past mistakes and grovel.”

“Did either of them consider Grier’s wishes? Or yours for that matter?”

“Nope.”

“Have you?”

“Funny thing is”—Jason took a sip—“I’ve finally started to. Grier did me a favor walking away.”

“Maybe you both did each other a favor.”

“I suspect you’re right.” Jason turned toward him and for the first time Mick saw something underneath the smooth, polished veneer. “Grier’s a good woman. The best. She didn’t deserve what I did to her, but she does deserve a future. A good one. I won’t stand in your way.”

“I appreciate that.”

“I’m leaving.”

Mick turned toward the tables behind them, his gaze
alighting on Kate where she sat with Trina and a few other local women. “Maybe you can make good use of the time you’ve got left.”

Jason’s gaze followed his and Mick saw the man’s fingers tighten on his glass. “Maybe so.”

Mick slapped him on the back. “Enjoy the rest of your stay.”

G
rier refolded her aunt’s note and tucked it in her pocket. Maeve’s words in the letter had held a deliberate order and Grier knew she couldn’t resist following it any longer.

One final suggestion. Go visit your father’s grave. I know you haven’t been out there and while I don’t think he deserves much from you, he does deserve that.

She knew she needed to go visit the small cemetery on the edge of town but had found excuse after excuse to avoid making the trip. A big part of her wanted to visit the grave by herself, yet every time she prepared to go, something held her back.

The knowledge that she really didn’t want to go all by herself.

Sloan or Avery would go along if she’d just ask, but it didn’t seem right, somehow.

And she and Mick hadn’t spoken since they’d returned home the morning before.

Maybe that was for the best, she acknowledged as she layered up for the walk across town. Things had gotten awfully intense their last night in Fairbanks and
she couldn’t quite shake the underlying hurt that he hadn’t told her about his mother.

The morning was crisp and clear, and hardened snow crunched under her boots as she walked across the town square. She allowed her gaze to range across the buildings that made up the businesses on Main Street.

The Jitters and the diner and Tasty’s store. A small knitting store that had become quite the center of the town grapevine from what she’d been told. The grocery store that stood on the opposite side of the street from the diner. Grier smiled at someone’s sense of humor as she read the specials posted in the large windows.

Advanced Blizzard Planning—
Ground Chuck for $1.59 a pound.

Get ’Em Before Spring—
Canned Corn and Peas $0.49 each.

And her favorite:

The Snowpocalypse Special—
Ice Cream Pints $3.19 each.

She passed the stores and the large monument that stood at the far end of town drew her gaze next. Conceived years before by the grandmothers, the monument was erected as a dedication to love and loss. Julia’s husband had died when she was a young woman
and the monument had been one of the ways Julia, Mary and Sophie had coped with the grief.

As Grier walked toward the large piece, the arches of the granite captivated her. She stopped for a moment and allowed her thoughts to roam as she filled her gaze with the graceful curves and hard lines that abstractly suggested a man and woman embracing.

An enduring testament to the power and strength of love.

Her thoughts drifted to Mick, the only place they ever seemed able to land these days. She loved him. The acknowledgment was so simple, really, as she finally admitted it in her heart.

She loved him.

The feeling should have lifted her up; instead, all it left her with was questions.

Did she even have the ability to make something work for a lifetime? Her mother hadn’t set the best example and no matter what the reports from others regarding his feelings for her, her father’s misguided approach hadn’t set the best example, either.