“You’re a great guy.”
“So you said.”
“Because you are.”
“Just not a lawyer or a doctor or an engineer.”
“You know it’s not that.”
“Do I?”
She was angry now, angry that he could think that about her. “Yes. Yes, you do. I’ve worked for years to chart my own path, to shake it all off and be my own person. But along you come, all bold and swaggering, and I let myself—” She snapped her mouth shut. This was exactly what she’d hoped to avoid.
“Let yourself what?” he asked coolly.
“I can’t stand up to you.” It was partly him, but it was mostly her.
Trouble was, she didn’t want to fight him. She wanted to please him. Even now, she wanted to throw herself into his arms and do as he asked, stay here a few more days.
“You don’t have to stand up to me,” he said.
“I want to leave,” she said bluntly before she could do something stupid.
“And I want you to stay.”
“You see?”
He looked baffled.
“Do you see?” she repeated. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”
She couldn’t let herself be swayed, no matter how desperately she wanted to spend another night or two or ten in his arms. If she didn’t stand her ground now, she’d be lost.
“You’re not making sense.”
“You’re trying to push me into staying,” she practically shouted.
“I’m—” He snapped his jaw shut.
“You’re a great guy, Cobra.”
“Stop saying that.”
“But you’re—”
“I get it,” he drawled, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Just not the guy for you.”
She’d wounded him, and guilt cut her like a knife. She wanted so badly to tell him that wasn’t true, but it was better this way. If he thought she was a snob, he’d despise her and stay away. She needed him to stay away.
Mia called from outside the tent. “Marnie?”
“I’m on my way.” Marnie broke away and turned to zip her suitcase.
“Don’t,” Cobra said, a crack in his voice.
She swallowed her heartache. “I have to.”
“We’re battling daylight,” Mia called out.
Marnie hoisted her suitcase from the bed.
Cobra grasped her hand. He shifted so he was looking her straight in the eyes. “Not like this.”
“I’m sorry.”
He closed his eyes and clamped his jaw. Then he whisked the suitcase from her hand and pivoted to walk out the door.
She followed in time to see Mia take in Cobra’s expression.
Mia’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say a word, just led the way to the pickup truck that would ferry them to the airstrip.
Marnie couldn’t bring herself to look at Cobra as he dropped her suitcase in the box of the truck. She kept her gaze down and focused on climbing into the back seat of the crew cab. When she finally looked up, he was gone.
Mia opened the other back door and stepped inside, her eyes full of sympathy. “You okay?”
Marnie shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.
“Did you fight?” Mia asked.
Marnie nodded to that.
“The Partner Packing contest?”
Marnie drew a shaky breath. “That and other things.”
When Mia spoke a moment later, her voice was gentle. “What other things?”
“Him. Me. Signing that stupid form.”
“Form?”
Marnie bent to cover her face with her hands. “The disclaimer. I put your address down as mine.”
It took Mia a moment to respond. “So?”
Marnie straightened again, whisking her hair back from her forehead. “So, I’m a lawyer, and that was a false declaration.”
Mia looked behind them. “You want me to go . . .”
Marnie shook her head. “It’s done.”
“And . . . Cobra made you do it?”
“I let him convince me to do it. I let him push me into doing something I shouldn’t have done in the first place. And I’m through with . . .”
Mia waited again. “Through with . . . ?”
Marnie tried to frame the right words. “He’s so . . . He swallows me up.”
“And you don’t want that.” Mia nodded, reaching for Marnie’s hand, squeezing it in sympathy and understanding.
“The problem is . . .” Marnie admitted it out loud. “I do want it.”
Silas vaulted into the front passenger seat, slamming the door while one of the event volunteers got in and took the wheel.
“All good back there?” Silas asked over his shoulder.
Mia blinked at Marnie in silence.
“We’re good,” Marnie forced out as bravely as she could, promising herself she’d feel better soon. She’d made the strong choice, and it was the right choice, and she’d made it before it was too late.
* * *
* * *
Cobra threw himself into work. Luckily, there was plenty to do to close off the season, and he exhausted himself with long hours in the hangar, falling into unconsciousness as soon as his head hit the pillow. It was the only thing that kept him sane.
He missed Marnie every second. He avoided Mia and Raven because they reminded him of her. Plus, he was afraid he’d crack and ask them about her, how she was doing back in LA. He wanted to stay angry at her, but he couldn’t even manage that.
He’d thought a lot about the Partner Packing contest. He wouldn’t have chosen to enter the event, but the town had needed the points. They’d needed him to step up. And he’d do it again. At least, he thought he’d do it again. Cold truth was, he might hesitate if he’d known for sure it would lose him Marnie.
But as he rolled it over in his mind, he couldn’t help thinking he was missing something. Sure, she hadn’t wanted to race. But the Marnie he knew was tough, a team player. He’d watched her do something she hated to support her estranged family who didn’t even deserve it.
No, it went beyond the race. It had to. But maybe he didn’t want to know what it was. At the end of it all, she’d decided to leave him. It was her right to do that, and he’d just have to live with it.
He’d taken to avoiding Silas on top of everything else, afraid an I-told-you-so from the guy would set him off. Plus, Silas’s happy relationship with Mia twisted a knife into Cobra’s gut.
Sweaty and exhausted, Cobra paced through the little flakes of snow falling from a bitterly cold sky to the wooden sidewalk. He was too late to get a hot meal at the WSA cafeteria, so he made his way into the Bear and Bar instead and hoisted himself up on a barstool. He nodded a greeting to Badger, avoiding looking at the Klondike Challenge plaque displayed prominently on the wall.
“Beer?” Badger asked him, walking over.
“Whiskey. Double.”
“You got it.” Badger fished out a clean glass. “Just getting home?”
“Long day,” Cobra said, though the last thing he wanted was chitchat.
“Looks like we’ll get a few inches tonight.”
“That time of year.”
Badger set the double shot of whiskey down in front of Cobra.
Cobra downed it in one swallow.
“You want me to ask?” Badger asked.
“Nope.” Cobra pushed the glass forward and pointed to it.
Badger poured him another one. “I’ve got a theory.”
Cobra stiffened. “I don’t want to hear it.”
Badger hesitated, seeming to debate whether to push Cobra.
“I wouldn’t,” Cobra said darkly.
“Good enough. Super Bear Burger and fries?”
“Yeah.”
&
nbsp; “Coming up.” Badger headed for the kitchen.
A shadow came up beside Cobra as someone took the stool next to him.
He turned his head to tell them to back off.
It was Silas.
“I don’t scare as easily as Badger,” he said.
“You should.” Cobra took a swallow of the second whiskey.
“Mia is worried about you.”
“Mia doesn’t need to worry about me.”
“That’s what I told her.” Silas set his beer mug on the bar.
“Good.”
“Thing is, she doesn’t much listen to me.”
“I’m fine.” The first shot of whiskey was hitting Cobra’s system, and he felt better than he had five minutes ago. That wasn’t saying much, but it was something.
“I know how you—”
“An I-told-you-so is going to get you thrown into a snowbank,” Cobra warned.
“This isn’t that.” Silas shook his head.
“Pity?” Cobra challenged. “That’s even worse.”
“Empathy. I’ve been there.”
“It’s not the same thing.”
Silas waved to Badger and pointed to Cobra’s glass. “Whatever he’s having.”
“Burger too?” Badger asked.
“Sure.”
“You’re with Mia.” Cobra hammered home his point.
“I wasn’t always with her.”
“But you always had a chance with her.”
“I—”
Cobra held out his hands as evidence. He’d washed them at the hangar, but grease still lingered under his fingernails. “Look at me. Look at me and picture Marnie.”
Silas fell silent.
“Yeah,” Cobra said. “Ain’t never gonna happen.”
“Marnie’s not a snob.”
“Deep down, every outsider’s a snob.”
“That’s cynical,” Silas said.
“She told me I wasn’t the guy for her. And she was adamant about that. How else was I supposed to take that?”
“She said that—those exact words?”
Cobra thought back. “Maybe. Or maybe I said them. But she didn’t deny it, and she left. She made it clear I was not what she wanted in life.”
Silas went silent, drumming his fingertips on the bar. “I don’t think the issue’s your job.”
Cobra twisted his body and drew back, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “You don’t? Really?” Like Silas knew anything about it.
Badger poured a whiskey for Silas.
Cobra still had a bit left and decided to pace himself. Nothing about his current mood was going to be helped by a hangover.
“Did she say anything to you about the form?” Silas asked, rocking his glass back and forth in contemplation.
Cobra frowned in confusion, his anger still simmering. “What form?”
“The Klondike Challenge disclaimer.”
“Are we still talking about Marnie?” Cobra wondered if Silas had decided to change topics.
“Yes, Marnie. Did she say anything to you about signing the disclaimer form?”
Cobra thought back. “She didn’t want to use Mia’s address.”
“And?”
Cobra shrugged. “And she did anyway.”
“And?” Silas persisted.
“And that was it. She signed and left.” He finished his drink, thinking back to their exchange. The next time he’d seen her, she was packing.
“She told Mia she shouldn’t have signed it.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because she doesn’t really live in Paradise.”
“Who cares? Nobody cares.”
“Marnie cared.”
Her words echoed in Cobra’s brain. You push me into things. “I thought she meant the race.”
“I don’t know what she meant. All I’m sayin’ is the form was a thing.”
Cobra stretched out his hands, palms up, taking in the calluses, rough skin, sinewy muscle and grease stains. He almost couldn’t believe she’d let him touch her with them.
“It’s all a thing,” he said quietly. “And it’s a done thing.”
Silas clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m really sorry it went this way.”
“Wasn’t like you didn’t warn me.” Cobra was only now realizing why Silas had spoken up. “I shouldn’t have been such a jerk about it.”
Silas gave a mocking grin. “You can’t know until you know.”
“And I thought it was bad with Shelby.”
“The girl from high school?”
“That was nothing.” Cobra would have laughed at himself if he didn’t feel so much like shit.
“Don’t leave and join the air force,” Silas joked.
“I won’t.” Cobra didn’t know what he was going to do. He had absolutely no idea.
Chapter Eighteen
Marnie was determined to shake off the interlude in Alaska and get back to her regular life. She met with Henry and Hannah and discussed plans for modernizing Lafayette Fashion by switching to new suppliers and expanding into teen apparel. Hannah came up with some terrific ideas for engaging influencers.
Marnie was also still working with Scarlett and Willow as they put together their film project. Hannah had stepped up on that too, reaching out to some Hollywood contacts and pulling together an impressive guest list for a Halloween party. The plan was for Scarlett to mix and mingle with members of the entertainment industry to see if she could find a director.
Henry had started dating Olivia Axler, an odd combination since Henry was uptight and completely by-the-book, while Olivia struck Marnie as somewhat free-thinking and spontaneous. But they seemed to be having fun together, and Olivia was a huge supporter of Scarlett and Willow, so everyone was throwing themselves into party planning.
Marnie’s boss, Gretchen Miller, was enthusiastic about the firm moving into entertainment law. She’d given Marnie all the support and flexibility she needed to pursue new clients. The Lafayette party was shaping up to be a great opportunity for Marnie to network as well.
There was plenty going on, and it was all good. But she couldn’t get Cobra off her mind. She dwelled on him during the day then dreamed about him at night, waking up sweaty and frustrated. In weak moments, she wondered if she should have stayed a few days and made love with him until she got it out of her system.
The workday was over. It was coming up on seven o’clock, and Gretchen, Emilia Marsh, and Bexley had already left the office. Marnie dreaded going home to her apartment, letting her guard down and having Cobra crowd her mind.
Knowing she couldn’t put it off forever, she logged out of her computer, locked her file cabinet and gathered her purse. Then she stepped into a pair of flats for the twenty-minute walk to her apartment. The sunny day had been unseasonably warm, and the concrete and asphalt would hold its heat for hours. So she also shrugged out of her black blazer and folded it into her shoulder bag along with her high-heeled pumps.
Her sleeveless white blouse would be cool in the evening air. She raked her hair into a high ponytail to keep it off her neck. Then she locked the office door behind her and took the elevator to the lobby, pushing her way through the revolving door onto bustling Empire Street.
The signal light at the corner was green, the white walk sign still on. She pivoted quickly, wondering if she’d make it before it changed. A man sitting on the sidewalk bench caught the corner of her eye. He was staring intently her way, and she reflexively braced herself, not breaking her stride.
“Marnie?” the man said.
She did a double-take, sucking in a breath in surprise and stopping in her tracks. “Ethan?”
Her bother rose from the bench. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to see me.”
“What are you doing here?�
� Her knee-jerk reaction was concern. He shouldn’t be out of Kansas. He was breaking parole.
“I got permission to come and see you.”
“From the parole board?”
He stepped closer. “Yes.”
Her suspicions rose. “What did you tell them?”
“Only that I wanted to visit my sister.”
“And they believed you?”
He shrugged. “It was the truth.”
They both fell silent, as she eyed him up. He looked good, really healthy, clean shaven with a tidy haircut. He was dressed in a blue striped shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of black jeans with brown hikers. The outfit looked crisp and new. She supposed all his clothes must look like that right now.
“What do you want?” she asked, still wary.
“To talk. Just to talk.” He looked up the busy sidewalk, the sounds of engines, tires and car horns wafting around them. “You headed somewhere?”
“Home,” she said. Then the late hour hit her. “How long have you been waiting?”
“Awhile.” Uncertainty came over his expression. “I didn’t want to accost you at the office or show up unannounced at your apartment, so I thought this way—”
“I could walk away,” she guessed.
“I hope you won’t.”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
He paused before speaking. “You came to the parole hearing. I took that as a good sign.”
“I came to the parole hearing to end this once and for all.”
“End what? Being a part of the family?”
“Yes.”
He gave a sad smile. “You know it doesn’t work that way.”
“It can.”
He nodded in the direction she’d been headed. “Can I walk with you?”
She wanted to say no, but he’d come a long way. And at least he was alone. If her father had been with him, she would have frozen them out already.
“Fine.” She turned for the crosswalk, and he fell into step beside her.
They walked to the corner. The traffic signal changed in front of them, and they crossed with the rest of the crowd. Then they turned north on Empire, walking past ground-floor shops and restaurants with office buildings towering above.
“You like it here?” he asked as they cleared the next cross street.
Finding Paradise Page 26
