Come Fly With Me (23 page)

She twisted in her seat to look for signs. All she saw were other cars, full of animated families as they looked at the animals. “Where are we?”

“The University of Alaska. They’ve got a large-animal research station.”

“Can we go look at them?”

“The tours are only in the summer and I think the viewing platform’s going to be too cold. But I couldn’t let you get this close to them and not come out for a look.”

She watched in awe as a mother walked with a few babies. “They’re amazing. How’d you find out about this place?”

“Most anyone who comes up here knows about the research station. It’s a pretty big draw. But Jack and I did some transporting for a few of the scientists a few years back.”

“You had reindeer in your plane?” She turned away from the animals as she measured the antlers in her mind’s eye. “In the plane we came up on?”

He shook his head. “No. We had to rent a DC-3 to do the job, but it was worth it. It was a rare treat. We also transported caribou and musk ox.”

“That’s wonderful. How far did you have to fly them?”

“We helped them pick the animals up in the wild. Although neither Jack nor I did much around the animals, we had to make sure they were safe in the cargo hold, especially since they were tranqued.”

She turned to look at the reindeer again, their elegant necks holding racks of inordinate size. “I guess getting them settled and safe is quite a job.”

A rather indelicate idea took hold, but Mick beat her to the punch. “And yes, the plane smelled to high
heaven when we got done. Jack and I scrubbed that damn cargo hold down for two days before we were able to deliver it back to the company we rented it from. Maggie threatened at one point to walk around with clothespins on her nose.”

Grier giggled at the image Mick painted of their intrepid air traffic controller.

“It’s a dirty job, O’Shaughnessy.”

“But a fun one. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

They sat in companionable silence as the herd continued grazing and the two of them lapsed into casual conversation.

“Chooch offered me a puppy from their new litter.”

“That’s quite a compliment.”

“A compliment?” Grier turned again from the view. “I figured it was a ploy to get me to waive my tax fees. She seemed pretty hurt when I declined.”

“They don’t sell those dogs to just anyone. She’s really taken a shine to you.”

“That’s how the rumor started spreading I was headed back to New York.”

“I knew Chooch was the source, but didn’t know why.” He grinned broadly. “What’s the matter—you don’t want to curb a husky in New York?”

“I’d give my eyeteeth for one, but it just doesn’t seem fair.”

“I’m sure lots of people have dogs in the city. Why can’t you?”

“A lot of people make it work, but I’d begged for one growing up and my mother never relented, no matter
how many times I asked. Once I was on my own, it just seemed too late. I mean, what would I do with a dog?”

“I don’t know—love it? Enjoy it? Walk it in the park and take it to the vet? Lots of people find a way, Grier. You would, too.”

His words struck a nerve she hadn’t even realized was all that sensitive. “It just wouldn’t suit my lifestyle.”

“Is that you talking? Or your mother?”

She felt the jab clear down to her toes. “You want to try that one again, cowboy?”

“You want to come up with a different answer? Hell, if you’d just said you didn’t want a dog, it’d be fine. But what are all the excuses for?”

“They’re not excuses.”

“Then what are they?”

She snapped her mouth shut, not sure why they’d even begun fighting. It wasn’t how she’d envisioned her day and it certainly wasn’t how she wanted to remember these wonderful moments with the reindeer.

“They’re baggage. Now can we just shut up and watch Vixen and her babies?”

She thought for a moment he was going to continue arguing with her, but at the last minute he turned toward the window and pointed to the far side of the field. “See that one over there? With the heavy antlers? They call him the Tank.”

And if visions of puppies still floated in the air between them, for the moment, Grier could pretend they were still simply enjoying the sights of Fairbanks.

*    *    *

Mick knew he’d been an asshole earlier and he hadn’t figured out yet how to make it up to Grier. If she was angry with him over the dog comment, she didn’t show it. In fact, she’d been incredibly pleasant in the face of his rather aggressive words.

Sometimes your honesty isn’t wanted or needed, O’Shaughnessy,
he cursed himself yet again.
Learn to keep your fucking thoughts to yourself now and again.

They’d visited the El Dorado mine after the big-game preserve. Although the mine was closed to visitors, he knew the owners as he’d ferried more than a few tourists their way.

He and Grier got a private tour of what they could actually see that wasn’t covered in snow. She’d even bought a mug and a T-shirt on their way out while promising the owner she’d e-mail the name of a jeweler she’d recommended in New York.

Mick turned toward her as he started the SUV up once again. “You truly have a gift.”

She held up the plastic bag full of her purchases. “For shopping?”

“For meeting people. Dana this morning and now the name of the jeweler for Charlie. You talk to people.”

“You do, too. It’s one of your nicer traits.” She paused for a moment before shooting him a saucy grin. “You know. When you’re not ranting and railing about puppies.”

“I deserved that.”

“A little bit. And it’s been a few hours. I’d rather laugh about it than leave it to linger.”

The tire iron that had sat on his chest since they’d left the game preserve lifted and he took his first easy breath in three hours. “You ready for dinner?”

“Will there be wine there?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m ready for dinner. The Rooster, you said earlier?”

“Yep. I love it. The owner is from Georgia and the food is about as down-home as you can get.”

“Then I’m definitely in.”

Ten minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot and cut the engine, the welcoming lights of the Rooster beckoning them like a homing device.

He came around to Grier’s side and helped her out of the car, pleased when she hung on to his arms as she slid out. “Watch your step.”

“This place smells divine.”

“Sarah’s food is incredible. I usually get the fried chicken, but if she’s got her potpie on the menu, I may have to drop you like a hot potato and ask the woman to be mine forever.”

He held the door for her and Grier moved into the large hallway that bracketed an inner door from the outer cold. Mick didn’t miss it when her gaze lasered onto the framed newspaper articles on the wall of the foyer.

“Is that large man there next to her Sarah’s husband?” She leaned in and read the caption. “Big John?”

“That’d be him.”

She glanced back over her shoulder, her gaze doing a saucy run from the top of his head to the tips of his
boots. His body responded immediately, tightening as heat built between them in the enclosed space. “It must be some damn good potpie. That man could eat you for breakfast.”

Grier forked up a bite of the most amazing coconut custard pie she’d ever eaten as she bounced an eight-month-old on her lap.

“Watch it, Grier.” Dana smiled from across the table. “Betsy will have half your whipped cream before you can stop her.”

Grier leaned in and nuzzled a warm cheek, satisfied when she got a baby belly laugh. “We’re just giving Mommy a break tonight, aren’t we, Betsy?”

She gave the baby another raspberry to the cheek and was rewarded with yet another giggle as she pushed the pie away from plump, waving fists.

Mick had his arm draped behind her on her chair and every few minutes his fingers ran a tantalizing dance along the edge of her back.

It didn’t escape Grier’s notice their evening had turned oddly domestic with the arrival of Dana, her husband, Will, and their three children. So how could it be that she was both enjoying herself tremendously and counting down the moments until they’d walk out the door?

With a long arm reach, she snatched another forkful of the pie and continued to bounce Betsy on her knee.

Conversation hummed all around them and it was easy to see Sarah and Big John had a thriving business. The town was out in full force and Grier couldn’t help
comparing it to Indigo. Although Fairbanks was definitely larger, the same overarching small-town welcome was in evidence.

“Mr. O’Shaughnessy.” A gangly teenager moved up to their table and Grier didn’t miss the look of hero worship in his dark brown eyes.

“Kevin. How are you?”

“I’m doing well. My mom said you were back in town for the day, making deliveries. I’m sure glad I got to see you again.”

“Have a seat and join us for some pie.” Mick extended a hand and the boy leaped into the seat with an eager mix of trepidation at the opportunity and pride at being asked.

“You’ve been keeping your grades up like we talked about?”

“Yes, Mr. O’Shaughnessy.”

“And how’s the physics?”

“I’ve aced every one of my tests. I had no idea physics was so important for flying.”

Grier exchanged a quick glance with Dana and squeezed Mick’s knee at the sweet exchange. She’d never insult the boy, but it was clear physics hadn’t been very high on his list of priorities until Mick had made a few suggestions.

“And how are your other grades?”

“Other than a C in history, all As and Bs.”

She didn’t miss Mick’s broad smile as their waitress set down another slice of dessert in front of Kevin. “That’s great to hear. You keep that up. Now, how are your lessons going?”

The boy’s eyes nearly rolled back into his head as he began to tell Mick about his flight lessons, and Grier settled back in her chair with the baby in her arms.

She wasn’t sure how it kept happening, but every time she observed Mick, she saw something different. There was a casual confidence to him that just sort of brought everyone right along.

His patience with Kevin. His easy way with Dana and Will’s children. Even his gentle way with his grandmother.

Not that she’d had any doubt, but Chooch had been on the money.

Mick O’Shaughnessy was a good man.

She leaned down and whispered in Betsy’s ear. “You pay attention to this, sweetheart.”

The baby waved her arms and let out another belly laugh.

Avery flipped through the newspaper, idly reading what caught her fancy. The hotel was quiet—January always was—and she’d finished up any outstanding paperwork a while ago.

The newspaper wasn’t all that interesting, either, but if she played one more game of Sudoku, she’d go cross-eyed and she’d already blown through the latest Jayne Ann Krentz hardcover she’d gotten for Christmas.

As she opened the sports page, her boredom fled as she caught up on the expectations for the weekend’s NFL play-offs. After a quick scan of the injury report, she made up her mind on how she was betting Chris for each of the games.

She’d beat his ass soundly for the last two weeks and had no intention of losing her mojo. Besides, he had no idea how to bet against the point spread, which she knew she should feel guilty about, but well…she didn’t.

Satisfied with her picks, she flipped the page.

And lost her breath as Roman Forsyth stared back at her from a photo that dominated the top half of the page. Dark hair plastered itself to his head and a nasty red cut lined the corner of his eye.

He looked like an avenging warrior, home from battle and celebrating his victory.

She stared at the photo for a long time, as heat and need warred with the voice of common sense that was never quite able to break through the memories.

Why couldn’t she get past this? Past him?

And why did looking at his picture only ignite the need that curled through her body like a flash fire at the knowledge he’d be in Indigo soon?

They’d been broken up a long time and still, these feelings for him had lingered far longer than was considered normal or healthy or even remotely sane. But try as she might, no one she dated ever quite measured up to her high school boyfriend.

And oh, how she’d tried.

She’d gone after smart guys, dumb guys, guys who wouldn’t know a sports term if a dictionary was handed to them. She’d gone out of town and she’d tried online. Hell, a year ago she’d even agreed to a blind date on a weekend trip to Anchorage.

Nothing worked.

Nothing and no one had ever allowed her to give up the ghost.

She’d even considered a psychiatrist—would have gone if the cost simply hadn’t been too exorbitant on top of the bills from her mother—so she’d bought Father Tom coffee a few times and chewed his ear off.

The priest had been helpful—and the one person in town she could trust not to repeat anything that came out of her mouth—but even after a year of cappuccinos she hadn’t gotten any closer to healed.

Slamming the paper closed and tossing it in the trash can, she reached for the Sudoku book, resigned to another evening of eye strain, when the phone rang.

“Indigo Blue, how can I help you?”

The line crackled briefly before a lilting voice flowed through the end of the phone. “Is Avery Marks there?”

“Yes, this is she.”

A nervous laugh echoed briefly in her ear before the voice spoke again. “This is Lena O’Mara. From Ireland. I wonder if you might have a moment to talk.”

Mick smiled as Dana and Will’s two-year-old lifted his arms for a hug.

“You look like the Michelin Man, buddy.” Mick lifted the well-insulated boy onto his lap and gave him a big hug. “Don’t forget what I told you.”

“Don’t hit girls, especially not my sister,” Bryce grumbled.

“Exactly. And remember. You’re going to like those girls someday.”

He gave the small body one more hug before passing him across the table to Will.

Grier gave Betsy one more squeeze—the baby was also bundled up like a burrito—and then Dana, Will and their brood were off.

Mick dropped into his seat with a sigh. “Wow. I know my mom took on a lot, but I had no idea three kids were that much work. How’d you do that thing with the baby?”