Come Fly With Me

by Addison Fox

  “Hello, pot?”

  “Grier, I’m serious.”

  “I’m serious, too, Sloan. I appreciate the concern, but there’s nothing between Mick and me.” Before her friend could object or call her on her bullshit, Grier clarified. “Nothing that can be acted on.”

  The men had Sloan’s luggage and were headed back in their direction. “Now let’s go collect your treasure trove of clothing and get going.”

  Before she could drag her own bag behind her, Sloan laid a hand on her arm. “Please, wait a sec. Look. I’ll cut out the pushy shit if you’ll promise me one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Give him a chance. The two of you might surprise yourselves.”

  “Maybe it just looks like we fit on the surface.”

  “Or maybe it’s real.”

  She’d never been very good at keeping things from Sloan and she was getting tired of defending a position she knew was rather flimsy, so Grier opted for the truth. “What if it’s just a matter of history repeating itself?”

  “He’s not like Jason. He’s nothing like him.”

  “Actually, I was talking about my mother and father.”

  The light that dawned brightly in Sloan’s blue eyes let Grier know she’d finally gotten through.

  “Some things just aren’t meant to be, Sloan. And I’m living proof of that reality.”

  The flight to Indigo was short, and before Mick knew it, he was helping Walker drag Sloan’s bags to the house while the women stayed in the warmth of his SUV.

  “She wanted to bring six,” Walker said on a heavy huff of air as he dropped one of the largest suitcases at his front door before digging in his pockets for his keys.

  “Six suitcases? No shit?”

  “Scout’s honor.” The keys jingled from the tip of Walker’s fingers as he got the key in the lock. “You sure you don’t want to come with us tonight? My grandmother said the more, the merrier.”

  “You guys enjoy. I know Sophie’s eager to see you.”

  “You’re practically her second grandson and you’re definitely her favorite. Truth be told, I think she likes you more than she likes me.”

  Mick was surprised by how closely Walker’s words matched Jack’s earlier.

  “Favorite son.”

  Brushing it off along with the painful reminder that his own father certainly didn’t see him that way, Mick lifted his two bags and followed Walker into the entranceway. “Of course she does—she’s got outstanding taste. But seeing as how my grandmother did her typical feast for Christmas and how Maggie out at the airstrip cooked her New Year’s Day spread, all I can say is that it’s your turn, buddy.”

  “Traitor,” Walker muttered as he flipped a light switch.

  “No, I’m a dutiful grandson who’s already paid his holiday dues.”

  They headed back to the SUV and Mick wanted to laugh at the sight of Sloan struggling with her oversized carry-on tote. The besotted, sloppy smile that crossed his best friend’s face was proof positive Walker’s bitching about the suitcases was all for show as he stepped up to help her.

  They all said a round of good-byes, cut short by the biting cold, and Grier turned on a wave to open the door to the passenger seat. Even in heavy layers of winter padding, she captivated him, her dark hair flowing down her back out of the wool hat that sat slightly askew on her head.

  God, he had it bad.

  There were about a million things he loved about his home, but winter attire wasn’t one of them. Nevertheless, he’d accepted long ago that the women up here spent a good portion of the year dressed up like the Michelin Man, with sizable acres of wool and plaid to add color.

  So how did she manage to make that heavy padding look sexy and adorable, all in one fell swoop?

  Grier lifted a booted foot to step on the running panel beneath the door and the hard-packed snow caking her foot was slippery, catching her off-balance. He was already moving toward her to help her up into the car when her footing went out from under her and she tumbled back against him.

  His chest took the impact of her fall and his arms wrapped around her to steady her. Unwilling to miss the fortuitous opportunity, Mick tightened his hold and leaned in toward her ear. “You okay?”

  “Y-y-yeah. Sure.”

  He fought the overwhelming urge to bend down and kiss the exposed swath of skin at the base of her neck visible where her scarf parted, but he held himself back, whispering instead. “Positive?”

  He saw heavy puffs rise into the air as her breathing turned shallow and felt his own ramp up in response.

  “I’m fine. Really.”

  Shifting his hold to her elbow, he took her at her word and took a step back. “Let me help you up into the car.”

  “Thanks.”

  Mick crossed to his own side and climbed in. He could see the Indigo Blue from Walker’s front door, which meant their time together was about to come to an end.

  “Did you have a nice holiday?” The breathy overtones that had filled her voice only moments before were gone, floating away on the cold night air.

  “It was good. My grandmother cooked a feast on Christmas that produced a week of excellent leftovers.”

  He got a small laugh at that, but she didn’t say anything else as she stared out the window. “What about you?”

  The lightest of sighs escaped her lips before she spoke. “The holidays were the usual—quiet and dignified. Except, of course, for my mother’s annual New Year’s Eve bash. It’s quite the crush.”

  The image of Grier mixing it up with New York’s blue bloods had his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “Your mother likes to entertain?”

  “She likes being the center of society’s attention. Which is quite the opposite end of the spectrum from entertaining, truth be told.”

  “I can imagine.” He couldn’t, but Mick had pieced together a few comments from Walker and Avery along with his own observations. Although he really didn’t know much about Grier’s background, what he did know was that the bright and interesting woman sitting next to him had built those attributes pretty much all on her own merits.

  “You didn’t enjoy the party?”

  “I never enjoy the party.”

  The words were out before he could stop them. “So why go?”

  “I was home for eight days. It was a lot easier than picking a fight. Besides, I didn’t have any plans this year.”

  “Sloan and Walker were in the city.”

  Grier glanced up at him, a half smile filling her face. “And they were incredibly sweet to invite me to their evening of take-out food and wine, but they’re so wrapped up in each other—as they should be—that I didn’t want to intrude.”

  “That I can understand. Jack and Jessica spent the holiday slobbering all over each other. It would have been gross if it hadn’t been so sweet.” The porte cochere came into view as Mick swung into the parking lot of the hotel.

  “Is that a note of jealousy I detect?”

  “About Jack and Jess?” At her nod, he kept going. “Not in the least. I’m happy for them. I just don’t want to see it.”

  Grier did laugh at that, the light, breezy sound echoing through the car. “Point taken. Love is in the air.”

  His hand tightened on the handle of her roll-aboard. “Is it?”

  “It certainly seems to be.”

  Grier winced at her overly bright tone, but refused to let the moment become heavy with innuendo. She couldn’t overanalyze every word that came out of her mouth to Mick, no matter how nervous he made her.

  And she certainly couldn’t sit and analyze those crazy moments she’d spent in his arms when all she’d wanted to do was turn her head ever so slightly so she could capture his lips with hers. Or the strong, steady feel of his back pressed to hers that had her standing in the circle of his arms just a few moments more than necessary. They had shared one night together weeks ago, and she needed to get past it.

  The real rub of it all, Grier
knew, was that when she got right down to it, the man made her jumpy. Off-balance. Uncentered.

  And she loved it.

  Before she could dwell on it further, Mick pulled up to the hotel and turned to face her. His searching blue gaze softened as crinkles wrapped around the corners of his eyes, pulling her from her memories. “The grandmothers are in their glory. Not only have Walker and Sloan and Jack and Jess hooked up, but they’re taking credit for two more successful matches from the dinner dance at the end of the year.”

  Grier couldn’t stop the bubble of laughter as the image of the town grandmothers took root. “Why do I have visions of them rubbing their hands together like a group of villainesses in a bad silent movie?”

  “Don’t think I haven’t wondered over the years if the three grandmothers had formed a coven and were practicing witchcraft outside the Indigo city limits during a full moon.”

  An image of a sweet, gray-haired woman with bright blue eyes filled her mind’s eye. “Your cute, incredibly charming grandmother doesn’t strike me as the type.”

  “Oh, don’t let that pleasant demeanor fool you. Mary O’Shaughnessy may be small, but she’d give a grizzly a run for its money. Add to it she’s extra ornery when under the influence of Sophie and Julia, and I wouldn’t bet against her. Those three take matchmaking very seriously.”

  Grier couldn’t stop laughing as she unbuckled her seat belt. How was it possible that he made her deeply uneasy yet he was so easy to be with?

  It was a question with no simple answers.

  The hotel lobby glowed brightly as she stared out the windows. “It’s nice to be back.”

  “Do you really feel that way?”

  Grier turned back to face him. “Well, yeah.”

  “The town wasn’t all that friendly to you when you arrived. That’s saying something if you still like Indigo anyway.”

  “The town’s incredibly charming. And no, people weren’t all that friendly,” she acknowledged, unable to lie. Those first few weeks had been more disorienting—and deeply disappointing—than she even wanted to admit to herself. “But everyone came around after Sloan showed up.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  His curious tone stopped her up short. “Do you really care about this?”

  “Yeah, actually. I do. I didn’t think your initial reception in town was very fair. Still don’t, but I am glad folks came around.”

  “It’s a lot to ask of people. They’ve known Kate forever and I was the interloper.”

  His gaze drifted back to her. “You’re Jonas Winston’s daughter, not an interloper.”

  “Illegitimate daughter.”

  “You’re his daughter, Grier. Don’t let anyone diminish that, least of all yourself.”

  The earnest tone and hard set of his jaw lit a small spark of something she couldn’t quite define. His conviction—his absolute belief in her—was heady. And it was something she’d never experienced from anyone other than Sloan.

  As if he sensed the moment had gotten too tense, a broad smile cracked his face as his blue eyes found hers. “You’re a keeper, Grier Thompson, and I’m damn glad you’re here.”

  “Mick—” She broke off, not sure what to say, because she was glad to be here. With him.

  And she didn’t quite know what to do about it.

  “Go ahead on in. I’ll take care of your bags.”

  “Grier!” Avery’s shriek echoed around the lobby of the Indigo Blue as she ran from behind the check-in desk to greet Grier, grabbing her in a huge bear hug. Mick stood off to the side, unable to hide his amusement at Avery’s enthusiastic response to their arrival.

  Grier took in the warm hug and squeezed back just as hard.

  Oh, how she’d missed Avery Marks.

  They’d known each other for only a short time—not even six weeks—but the woman had become as essential to her life as Sloan was.

  A quick nip of gratitude filled her memories as she thought about her first month in Indigo. The chilly reception, with no support from anyone save Walker and his legal advice, had nearly done her in.

  And now she was hugging her new friend as if they’d known each other for years, more at home with her than anyone she’d grown up with or knew in New York.

  Avery turned to buss Mick’s cheek with a quick kiss before dragging them both toward the hotel’s large bar area. “Drinks are on me. I’ve missed you.”

  “You saw me yesterday,” Mick teased her as they moved up toward the dark wood of the bar.

  “Oh yeah, that’s right. I had to use you as a stand-in so I could gossip with someone.”

  “Ooh. You’ve got juicies? Who’s riding the gossip train now?” Grier smiled as she slid onto one of the heavy leather-covered stools that rimmed the edge of the bar, then reached for a handful of pretzels from a small silver dish. “I want to hear all about it.”

  Mick pointed toward the far side of the bar as Avery pulled on the tap for his beer. “That’s my cue to go. I see Doc Cloud just came in, so why don’t you pour me one for him, too? I think I’ll engage in some gossip of my own.”

  Avery reached for another glass and deftly began curling it in her hands as it filled with bright amber liquid. “Discussing—oh, excuse me, betting—on this week’s bowl games does not constitute gossip.”

  “Nah, but it’s a hell of a lot more fun.” Mick grabbed the two foaming beers off the counter, then leaned down to press a quick kiss on Grier’s lips.

  Grier felt her mouth drop into a small, shocked O of surprise as he pulled away. Once again, his rich, warm scent surrounded her and she could still feel the hard imprint of his lips against hers.

  He deliberately didn’t look back as he crossed the lobby to where Doc Cloud settled himself in a chair and she fought to close her mouth so she didn’t look like a gaping fish.

  “Do I even need to ask the question or is there a gigantic bubble above my head with words in it?” A wicked grin spread across Avery’s face as she twisted the corkscrew in a bottle of Cabernet that Grier had become particularly fond of.

  “First, you sound just like Sloan. And second, I had no idea he was going to do that.”

  “It didn’t stop you from enjoying it.”

  Grier refused to respond for fear of digging a hole for herself she’d not be able to climb back out of.

  She had enjoyed it.

  That brief, possessive touch of his lips and the merry twinkle in his bright blue eyes had sent a shot of heat to her core that she’d likely be reliving long into the night.

  “He’s still crazy about you, you know,” Avery added as she poured the rich red wine.

  “Yeah.”

  “And…?”

  “And what, Avery? Nothing’s changed.”

  “You mean you haven’t turned over a new leaf for the new year?”

  “And what new leaf would that be? The one that says I’ll indiscriminately knock boots with the hot bush pilot until I go home again in four to six weeks? I don’t think so.”

  “It’s not indiscriminate if it’s only one hot bush pilot.”

  “It doesn’t change the four-to-six-weeks part.” Grier reached for her wine. “Walker thinks it’ll all be wrapped up by then.”

  “And then you’re going to leave?”

  Grier swirled the wine in her glass. “I’ve got a phone interview for a job tomorrow.”

  “Is it something you want?”

  The question struck Grier with swift clarity and in that moment, all the reasons she and Sloan had come to care for Avery so quickly were clear.

  “You’re not upset?”

  Avery laid a hand over hers, the show of solidarity and silent support a beacon Grier wanted to cling to.

  “Of course not. I’m disappointed at the idea I won’t see you all that often, but I want what’s best for you. You’re my friend and I want you to be happy.”

  “It’s at a very well-respected accounting firm. It’s not quite what I was doing before and it’s nowhere near th
e partner track I was on, but it’s something. Seeing as how my name’s not exactly golden among the New York firms right now, I’m grateful for the opportunity.”

  Avery lifted her own wine and swirled it in the light, her actions casual and her voice low enough so the few patrons assembled around the bar wouldn’t hear. “Why should your name be mud? From the little you’ve said, it was your ex’s fault you were dismissed.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m the reason his behavior was exposed. I’m damaged goods.”

  “You look pretty saucy from here.”

  “It’s that fresh Alaska air.”

  Avery flashed another wicked grin. “I think it’s the fresh Alaska men.”

  Grier risked a glance over her shoulder to where Mick and Doc Cloud sat in overstuffed chairs, engaged in comfortable conversation. She couldn’t argue with Avery’s point, no matter how many times she told herself she couldn’t—or shouldn’t—partake of the locals. There was something about this one particular man.

  Mick had shed his leather jacket and she could see the heavy flannel shirt that covered his broad shoulders. Even when he was sitting, his coiled, rangy strength drew her attention so that she could barely see anything but him.

  Uncomfortable with the renewed wave of heat that had her thick wool sweater suddenly feeling much too heavy, Grier shifted her gaze toward Doc Cloud. Despite his age, which she estimated to be about seventy-five, he had a hale and hearty attractiveness that was unusual this late in life. The doctor had an incredibly appealing competence and underlying strength.

  Maybe there really was something in the Alaska air.

  Or, she acknowledged to herself, maybe it was that people had different priorities than she was used to.

  In Indigo, friendships didn’t depend on how much money you made or who your friends were or whether you kept your mouth shut after watching your fiancé humiliate you.

  Grier took a thoughtful sip of her wine as she allowed her gaze to continue to roam around the room. People she recognized—townsfolk she’d gotten to know over the last few months—sat in small conversation areas while a waitress worked the room, taking care of everyone.

  She’d nearly turned back in her seat—more than ready to hear all of Avery’s good gossip—when the front door of the Indigo Blue opened.