Baby It's Cold Outside (19 page)
Read Baby It's Cold Outside Online
Authors: Addison Fox
“You don’t think you can control it?”
“Do you?” Sloan wouldn’t have been more surprised if Grier had asked her when she was taking her next trip to the moon.
“It’s not outside the realm of possibility.”
“You really think you can control who you fall in love with.”
“I’m talking about marriage, Sloan. If you wanted to be married, you could be.”
“But I’m not in love with anyone.”
Grier sat back with a satisfied smile on her face. “Then what are you so gloomy about?”
And just like that, Grier turned the entire discussion on its ear.
Sloan
did
want to find the right man to marry, not someone who fit some preconceived notion created out of her mother’s relentless need to interfere.
did
want to find the right man to marry, not someone who fit some preconceived notion created out of her mother’s relentless need to interfere.
“Oh fine, sit there all smug. Next time I get fixed up by the Winnie McKinley matchmaking service, I’m dragging you along.”
“Lucky me. Your mother picks out such charming specimens.”
Sloan couldn’t stop the bark of laughter at that one, and quickly focused on what was left of her now cold pancakes before the entire room tuned in to their conversation.
“And now, on to phase two of my devious plan,” Grier whispered under her breath before lifting her voice several notches, putting them clearly in eavesdropping range of Walker. “Fine. Then let’s talk about the bachelors. Some of them were awfully cute.”
Sloan wanted to sink through the floor. Absolutely, positively sink through the floor. “Look, why don’t we get out of here?”
“Not yet. I want more food.”
“More?”
“Yep. George and Tom raved about the omelets.”
“Then have one tomorrow.”
“I want one now.” Grier waved their waitress over and put in her order for gruyere, mushrooms and spinach.
Sloan shook her head as she dived into about her fifth cup of freshened coffee. “I have absolutely no idea how you eat like that.”
“It’s a rare gift.”
“It’s annoying.”
“Which you’ve told me on several occasions.” Grier’s wide-eyed stare held not one hint of remorse.
“You’re tiny and petite. That should be good enough. But then add in the fact you can eat like a truck driver on a three-day bender and it adds insult to injury.”
“And you’re long, lithe and gorgeous. Ask me if I feel any sympathy.”
“Looks like you two were busy making friends.” Sloan glanced up to see Walker, coffee cup in hand, standing next to them. “Mind if I sit down?”
“Weren’t you here with someone?”
“Jack had to get back to the airstrip and get to his runs.”
“He’s the one who flies with Mick, right?” Grier’s tone was nonchalant, but Sloan wanted to do a fist pump in victory. If Grier wasn’t interested in Mick, Sloan would eat one of the pylons being set up on Main Street.
“He’s the one.”
At Sloan’s pointed stare, Grier offered a small shrug. “It’s starting to come together. Who’s who in town, I mean.”
“Looks like more than that was coming together. You two had quite a crowd.”
“The men were very helpful.” Sloan felt the ice in her words clear down to her ramrod-straight spine. Unwilling to show him how he’d gotten to her, she pushed as much sweetness into her tone as she could. “It’s great background for my article and their enthusiasm was contagious.”
“Ah yes. Your article. Was that all it was?”
“I’m sorry?” She saw the speculative look in his eyes as his shoulders stiffened to match her physical indifference.
“Oh, come on. You mean to tell me you’re not sizing up the bachelors in advance? The rest of the bachelorettes haven’t descended yet, so you’re getting a leg up.”
“I was focused on my story. Nothing more. And I’ve seen a few people arrive in advance.”
“A few. But most wait until next weekend. I have a theory on that.” He leaned forward in his chair, as if waiting for them to bite on the clue. “If, you know, you want to put it in your article.”
“Well, don’t keep us in suspense.” Grier smiled up at their waitress as she laid down the omelet.
“I think it’s because no one wants to ask for that much time off work.”
Sloan watched him, not sure she’d followed his logic. “You think what?”
“I think the women who come up here to compete in the grandmothers’ little game are afraid to tell their bosses they’re traveling to Alaska to meet a man. So they don’t take the extra time off and don’t come in early. Most are on puddle jumpers or the train back to Anchorage first thing Sunday morning.”
“And what about the ones who came early?”
Walker shrugged and took a sip of his coffee. “They’re the rarities.”
“Or maybe they don’t come early because it’s minus fifteen degrees and they’re smart enough to stay home.”
“I’m just suggesting it could be a good angle for your story.”
Sloan wasn’t sure why his theory bothered her. After all, he’d lived through this for several decades, from the sound of it. He knew far more than she did.
Even so, it disturbed her that was what he thought. “It doesn’t make any sense. Why would someone come up here if they were embarrassed about it?”
“Sloan’s right,” Grier chimed in. “Why bother coming all this way if you’re worried about what someone thinks?”
“The entire world’s scared of being single and alone. Women especially. So they come up here but don’t tell anyone.”
A small tic started around the edge of her eye, but Sloan held back her thoughts, instead catching Grier’s gaze. The quick wink she got in return confirmed what Sloan already thought—that they’d both let him dig his own grave before throwing on several shovels full of dirt.
“And you don’t spend any time thinking about being alone. No one to share your life with? Have a family with?”
“I haven’t spent all that much time worrying about it.”
Could this really be the same man she’d spent those long glorious minutes with last night in the conference room? And was it possible that she was angry because his callous words flew in the face of what she hoped about him?
“Start asking around. You’ll see what I mean.”
Sloan finished writing the words “embarrassed to take part,” followed by a large question mark, then circled the entire passage.
It was something to look into; something to ask.
As she circled the phrase one more time, she glanced up at Walker. A hard edge tinged his features, his mouth a grim line as he laid his coffee cup down.
Was she reading something that wasn’t there?
Or was he hiding something? A pain he held back, behind cynical words and lackluster theories.
Or maybe his comments stung because he wasn’t falling neatly into some box she’d painted him into in her mind.
Either way, the eager shovels full of dirt she was anxious to throw on him suddenly felt far too heavy.
“I’ll take that under consideration.” Shifting gears, Sloan laid her pen down. “Speaking of Mick and Jack, I assume it’s not all that hard to book a flight to Anchorage. I want to include some sights in my article.”
“I think I’ve seen signs at the hotel,” Grier said. “Avery can arrange it for you.”
“Great.”
Sloan shoved the notebook and pen back in her bag, the next several days shaping up in her mind. She’d planned to spend ten days here and could easily extend it if she needed to. Maybe she’d have Avery book her a trip out to Denali as well.
“I’ll take you.”
“What?” The coffee she had halfway to her mouth fumbled in her hand, sloshing liquid over the rim as Walker’s words registered. “You’ll take me where?”
“To Anchorage. Today, if you want. In fact, if you hurry, we can snag a ride with Jack.”
“I’m not going to Anchorage today.”
“Why not?” Grier cocked her head. “It’s a great idea. Get a jump on your story. Heck, you’ll probably even fly back with a few more early-arriving bachelorettes. You can get their take on the upcoming weekend and what they hope will happen.”
“Thanks, Grier.” Sloan shot her a look that she’d had very little use for over the years, but which Grier absolutely knew meant she’d pay later, and dearly.
“Come on. Go back and get whatever you need and I’ll tell Jack to hang on a few minutes.”
Sloan glanced at the seat next to her where she’d piled her things after they’d sat down. She had the heavy padded coat. Add in the heavy, fur-lined boots and the three steno pads in her large purse and she was all set. “I’ve got what I need.”
“No packing. Really?”
“Walker, it’s a day trip, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Then I’m ready.”
“Well, then”—his smile was lazy as he pushed back from his chair—“there’s one stereotype blown.”
“Are we really back to that?”
“I guess we are. I’d have never made you for a rough-and-ready kind of woman.”
“I’d hardly call a puddle jumper to Anchorage and a day in the city rough and ready.”
“Suit yourself.”
She cursed his name as they made their way to Anchorage. Damn fucking asshole.
The plane tilted again and her stomach tilted with it, the pancakes she’d devoured an hour earlier threatening a return trip.
“Miz Sloan. Are you all right?” Jack’s voice came through on the earphones she wore.
She waved a hand back at him with a small smile, afraid to actually put voice to words for fear of what else might come out of her mouth.
Oh God, no wonder people recommended the train. They’d left seven minutes ago and she’d spent the last six and a half in the sheer misery reserved for victims of the flu or a really awful hangover.
This felt like a combination of both.
A light tap on her arm had her turning her head to see Walker with a can of soda stretched out to her. The rough, husky tones of his voice came through her earphones and damn it if she couldn’t feel a slight twinge in her belly.
It was amazing there was room to feel anything else in there, but she did. Threads of longing wrapped around her limbs like warm honey. With trembling fingers, she took the can of Coke and tentatively took a sip, the fizzing liquid a balm as it made its way down her throat.
He kept his eyes on her, their deep, warm brown color full of concern. “Have a bit more.”
She nodded and took one more ice-cold sip, the fizz and the sugar going a long way toward settling her roiling stomach.
With a small smile, he pointed to the window. “Now look over there.”
Sloan turned toward the window and nearly dropped the can the view was so breathtaking. Sheer icy peaks rose into the bright morning light as the impossible face of Denali stared back at them. Her thoughts immediately reverted to those moments on the train a few days earlier when she’d viewed the mountain from a distance.
She had felt a kinship.
Anticipation.
Hope.
Where had that gone?
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Again, that amazing voice poured through the headphones, affecting her system like a drug.
“Absolutely magnificent.”
“Are you okay if I dip a bit? I can show you a few things before we head on down to Anchorage?” Jack’s kind voice echoed through her headset and she nodded.
“Yes, please. I think I’ll be okay.” Sloan took another sip of the soda, pleased that her stomach seemed to be leveling out. As Jack turned the plane, she realized that really was true—her insides took only a slight dip as the plane made a wide swoop around the south face of the mountain.
Jack narrated as they went, pointing out a base camp for climbers, a landing area for planes and a few other landmarks of interest.
“People actually climb it?” Sloan’s gaze traveled over the peaks of the mountain. The impressive height, combined with the harsh weather conditions had her questioning the sanity of those who chose to pit themselves against nature in this fashion.
“Several thousand a year, actually. It’s not the season for it now. It’s too cold. Fall’s the peak season. Mick and I ferry at least three to four groups a day up here in season and usually as many back off.”
“They do a brisk tourist trade in the summer, too,” Walker added. “Lots of visitors want to see her.”
“I can see why. She’s magnificent.” And she was, Sloan thought. A majestic example of nature’s beauty and a very clear reminder to humans that there was far more to the universe than anyone could ever see, touch, know or hope to conquer.
Like staring out at the ocean or up at the stars.
For in those moments, Sloan felt very small and tiny, yet powerful all at once. These monoliths of nature had been here for millions of years and would be here for millions more, yet for that moment, she was one with them.
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