Love Grows in Alaska (The Washington Triplets)
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Authors: Michelle Lynn
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LOVE GROWS IN ALASKA
Copyright ©2014 by Michelle Lynn
All Rights Reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in whole or in part by any means.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events portrayed in this book are the product of the author’s imagination or are either fictitious or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Interior design and formatting:
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Editing:
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Cover Design:
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Photo Credit: Photography Shutterstock
ANCHORAGE, ALASKA HAS BEEN MY
home for all of two weeks now. I’ve slowly become accustomed to a region much different than the one I grew up in. Whereas, Chicago is still warm this time of the year, a jacket is already a necessity here. Well, at least it is for me, but not for the natives. Only making it easier to spot the Alaskans versus the newbies, since they bare short sleeve shirts, leaving their arms exposed to cooler elements, whereas I’m bundled up for a snowstorm.
The reflective windows of the tallest building in not only Anchorage, but the whole state of Alaska, glitter against the early morning sun. Envy seeps in me, wishing the sun could warm me up to sparkle like the windows. I circle around the revolving door with the majority of everyone else on the street. Although its twenty-three story stature is miniscule compared to any building in the Chicago skyline, it houses most of the employees in the downtown area. In reference, it’s like the Willis Tower of the Anchorage skyscrapers. Completely different than Chicago though, but isn’t that why I’m here, for a change? Change of scenery, change of life. I refuse to be the
good triplet
any longer. Living my life trying to lead two strong-willed, heavy-debated sisters away from danger and despair is a lot on someone’s shoulders. And that was all while my mother was on the living side of life.
When she died six months ago, I decide I couldn’t allow them to let me replace her. Visions of me shuffling around a kitchen with pots spilling over and alarms that food is ready, all while I try to greet guests and make them comfortable on Christmas flickered to mind. I was positive that if I stayed in Chicago, I’d assume the motherly role to my triplet sisters. They wouldn’t intentionally mean for it to happen, it’d just gradually veer that way. My dad is too blind to notice it, or to be bothered to put a stop to it. He’s much too busy with … what’s her name? Oh yeah, Janet. His mistress. He can spout off lie after lie about how he and my mother weren’t together any more, but how on Earth does someone marry another woman six months after they bury their wife? The weight of keeping our family as one cohesive unit is unbearable. Some days I miss my mom so much it’s hard to step out of bed. Others, the anger at my dad has me slamming cabinets and throwing anything that gets in my way. My emotions are so twisted into a ball when it comes to my family, it’s one of the reasons I ran and fled before I lost myself completely.
A bag accidentally knocks against my hip, pulling me from my rambling thoughts. The woman politely apologizes before continuing on her way. Clyde, the security guard, smiles when I hold up my employee badge. “Good morning, Miss Washington,” he greets me. Another discovery that’s slowly becoming familiar to me. In this size of a building, he’s said hello to me by my name since day two. Everyone seems to make an extra effort to know everyone else. An anomaly when you come from the third largest city in the United States. It’s a nice change of pace to be important enough to be noticed. I’m fairly certain back at my job in Chicago, my co-worker in the cubicle next to me didn’t know my last name.
Waiting in the elevator, I check my phone as others converse about their weekend activities. Not having much to add, unless you count watching
Sweet Home Alabama
while devouring a bag of Skittles. Not just the self-size bag, no, it was the bag of individually wrapped fun-size packs. The last envelope strewn to the side by the time Reese Witherspoon asks Josh Lucas if he’s done proving himself. Why I choose a romantic comedy that only reminds me of another facet that my life is lacking … love.
The doors finally begin to close after the swarm of people rush in. An arm covered in a black suit coat, with a sparkling silver watch firm around the wrist, juts through the sliver of the opening, and the elevator doors stop before opening again. Peeking through my eyelashes, my breathing halts when the man belonging to the arm sneaks through the sliding doors and into my air space. My head quickly jolts up to allow my eyes the pleasure of devouring him from head to toe. I imagine messing up his perfectly gelled, dark wavy hair. Disrobing him of the tailored suit that shows off his broad shoulders that I’m certain have the strength to toss me in any position he demands. Everyone’s conversations quiet as others have little regard for staring. I cower my head, sneaking glimpses, because he’s that beautiful of a man. When he nods a hello to the group that is blatantly appraising his body, his eyes land on me, pausing briefly. My heart races when he pierces me with a set of stunning blue eyes and I will myself to turn away, but my body won’t listen. As though he can see through me, a small upturn of his lips and soft eyes makes me breathe easier. I can’t explain what it is, but my body enjoys his attention. As fast as our quiet eye contact happens, it vanishes even faster when another woman distracts him away.
As the elevator starts and stops on its rise to the top, the people dwindle in the space. By the time it arrives on floor nineteen, it’s only me, the gorgeous man and the woman who’s currently talking to him about the change of weather. He’s pleasant and polite, responding to her, but not adding much to the conversation. Not that she minds. I think she’s strictly into conversing solely for the purpose that her hand has access to his arm. I lost count how many times her hand has rested on his forearm, twenty times ago.
The doors slide open; reflexively I give one last glance and he winks in my direction with a sexy grin. “Have a good day.” He speaks to me and I awkwardly stumble out of the elevator from the unexpected warmth of his deep voice. Times like this I wish I had the guts to turn around and saunter back in, occupy his attention like the other woman did, but instead two hands catch me before the doors slide shut. When I gather my bearings, disappointment coils through me when brown eyes look down to me. “Hi, Pete.” I release a breath, greeting the guy who always seems to be around when I make a fool of myself. Although, I think he secretly loves the whole knight in shining armor persona guys use to make them feel worthwhile. Since most knights are arrogant, Pete fits in just fine, which takes him out of the running as a dating possibility.
“I’m always here to catch you.” He flirts and I inwardly roll my eyes. He continues to hold my elbow even though I’ve recovered from my embarrassing tumble.
“Thank you.” I gently nudge my elbow out of his grip and start walking down the hall, but he stays in pace with me.
“Did you hear about the meeting this morning?” He opens the doors for me and places his hand on the small of my back. I wiggle my torso so his hand falls off and enter the office. I’m at about max tolerance of his touchy hands.
When I first met Pete, on my first day, in the break room, I thought he was nice. I was filling up my coffee mug and there he was, taking the pot out of my hands, and pouring it for me. But lately, it’s hard to figure out if he’s being nice, chivalrous, or paying forward for something he’ll want down the road. Which he can forget about in regards to me. He’s been here six months, and graduated from University of Anchorage.
Born and bred
as he puts it. If I didn’t catch it the first time around, I’d know from how many times he’s told me that he could be my tour guide. That he’s got the down low to the great sights. It’s the sights he wants so desperately to show me that has me worried.
“Um … I got the email on my phone.” I glance at my watch and groan, noticing there’s only ten minutes until I have to be in the conference room. “Thanks again, Pete. I better go and get situated,” I say, turning the opposite way of his office, escaping down the hall.
I’m lucky to be placed in the back corner of the building with a view of the mountains, if I stand on my tiptoes and peek over my cubicle wall. Hanging my coat up on the designated hook I ordered for myself, I place my laptop on the dock, and pull out my phone. I fluster, unable to enjoy my morning routine of booting up my computer while grabbing a coffee and then starting my day. Instead I scramble to dig up a pad and pen and head to the conference room.
Henbrook Drilling is a smaller company that’s fast on the rise. I’m fortunate enough that they’re growing at such a dramatic rate, because it was their growth that got me the job when they needed another Human Resources Associate. I feel lucky that they hired me after two phone interviews and paid for my move up here. Since most employees I’m responsible to hire go up to the North Alaskan Coast, I’m in charge of handling their drug tests, psychology testing, and other initial paperwork down here. It’s not glamorous by any means, but it got me the hell out of Chicago while still using my degree.