by Nicole Snow
Somehow, that hurts more after the gentle way he handled me on the way out of Brody’s, the way he kept his arm around me in such a comforting way that I think if he hadn’t been there, I’d have fallen apart.
But I guess he’s waking up to the reality of what he’s dealing with now.
I shouldn’t have started depending on him so much.
I shouldn’t have wanted to.
“Sorry.” I shake my head weakly. “It’s nothing.”
“Murder doesn’t sound like nothing to me, Fliss. From the way you reacted, you already suspected what Bitters said.” Hearing it spelled out that way nearly gags me with truth, and he’s not done. “You know something about the gold, don’t you? Something you aren’t telling me.”
What do I even say when he’s glaring down?
When he’s totally right?
When he’s been nothing but honest, generous, and overprotective?
All while I lied by omission to his handsome face.
End me.
“There’s a reason...” I strangle out, scrubbing my hands over my face.
I can’t look at him anymore. He’s always been so forgiving, but I can’t stand seeing that shuttered look on his face. That withdrawal. That disgust.
Sooner or later, he’ll start looking at me the way the town rumor mill does, and it kills me.
I owe him an explanation, don’t I?
“I never meant to hide anything. It’s just...this entire mess has ruined my effing life, Alaska. I had ideas, but I didn’t know how bad it was until now. Not beyond a reasonable doubt. Now, I know my father died because of it, and I—I probably will, too. Even if I don’t, this is going to haunt me forever.” I can’t help how my voice breaks. “I’ll never be free.”
I’m just waiting for the slamming door.
Waiting for him to realize I’m too much trouble, too dangerous, and walk away like a sane person.
So I’m not expecting to hear, much less feel his massive bulk moving toward me.
Alaska sinks down on one knee in front of me and pulls my hands away from my face with a gentle strength. His hands take mine, dwarfing them, fully engulfing my fingers, while those heart-stopping sand storms for eyes drill his rough spirit into mine.
“Look,” he growls, his voice like distant thunder. “Nothing’s inescapable, Fliss. Nothing. I don’t even believe that shit about death and taxes after the number of times I’ve dodged death, and after seeing some real colorful Alaskan tax returns.” He squeezes my hands with unshakeable certainty—and even if he’s a human rock, I’m trembling anyway. “Whatever’s going on, you can start over. You can make it right. We’ll find a way. You’re stubborn as hell, Fliss, but you wouldn’t be stubborn if you weren’t strong enough to weather it.”
I don’t feel strong right now.
More like I’m approaching a total nervous breakdown.
And when he pulls me into his arms—
Yeah. There it is.
Let’s call it borrowed strength.
He’s so perfect; he’s the one who’s strong, his arms cradling me like this silent, strange promise that says there’s nothing about me so terrible he’d ever think I don’t deserve the warmth he’s giving right now as he gathers me against his chest.
There’s no holding back.
I snap like a twig, shattering into brittle pieces with a hoarse sob.
Amazingly, it doesn’t feel as awful as I expected.
More like it’s safe to break down here in his arms. The only place I might ever feel secure again.
Like I can crash into as many pieces as I need to, but it’s okay as long as he’s there, catching me and holding me together so no part of me gets lost.
No part of me is broken, forsaken, because he’s keeping me whole.
While these sobs hollow me out, ripping pain from my core, he strokes his fingers through my hair and murmurs soothing, formless things.
Words that don’t have to make sense when what matters is the heat of his presence and the wall of his embrace.
After a moment, there’s the brush of soft fur against my thigh.
Shrub lets out a sympathetic whine, pressing his wet nose against me.
I’m shredded.
I’m surrounded by love I don’t deserve, and I’m not strong enough to turn it away.
Slowly, my ears work again, and those soft man-whispers resolve into words, steady and certain, rumbling low.
“We can still make this right,” Alaska says. “You can turn the gold in to the Feds. With Flynn’s testimony, the gold, and those fingerprints, plus me standing by, you might be able to open a case and get the law involved. Find real justice for your dad, so these people who killed him can never hurt you. So you can finally have a life.”
There’s a fierceness in his voice that says he’d hunt Paisley down himself if he could.
I pull back just enough to look up at him through my teary-eyed blur, confusion mixing into the muddle of raw emotion lashing around inside me.
“I don’t...understand,” I whisper. “Why are you even worrying about this? I’m not your problem. You’ve got a life of your own. You’ve got Eli, and...and he’s your everything. I’m just a huge complication. I can only make things worse.”
I try to talk sense. I try to reason.
I try to push him away, to save him before he suffers for me.
Then, in a few growled words, he breaks my heart all over.
“Yeah? Funny as hell I don’t see it when I look at you, woman. You haven’t done shit but make my life brighter since the day I met you.” Every word rings with bold sincerity, like he’s saying a prayer and blessing me with his gaze. “Felicity, fuck. I wish you could see yourself like I do. And if you’re complicated? You’re the kind of complicated I need in my life. Let me give you fair warning: no amount of crying, screaming, clawing, or begging’s gonna change my mind.”
Every part of me says that can’t be true.
Not when my complications could get people killed.
But I can’t call him a liar, not when I’m huddled in his arms, looking up at him like I can’t see anything else. The living room light forms a halo behind him, casting his face into shadow, but his eyes are unmistakable.
They’re locked on mine.
Dark with such intense emotion I don’t dare to want, to have, to keep it for myself.
But I never said I could resist, did I?
Especially when he pulls on me, offering the scratch to an itch I never knew I had, a need I could never put into words.
To feel safe.
To feel safe with a man, to trust him, to put myself in his hands and know he’ll do everything in his power not to obliterate me.
I’m trembling the instant he touches my cheek and I can’t stop.
Yes, I know what’s coming, but I’m still denying it’s even possible when he leans down toward me.
His breaths ask a silent question, caressing against my skin, painting what he wants on my lips, asking me to take him in.
Parting my lips, inhaling his air, it feels like I’m already tasting him, acquiescing...
...and there’s not even a moment’s hesitation when his lips descend on mine.
I full-on detonate.
I’ve never, ever been kissed like this.
Like I’m a tender thing, a sweetness, something to be cherished and loved and savored like a delicacy.
Like I’m worthy of warmth, desire, and this rushing inferno infusing every pore.
It’s a shot to my heart, a shivering firestorm, as Alaska’s mouth caresses mine in a slow soul-searching kiss.
This wandering smooch that feels like seeing a shooting star for the first time. Like discovering the exhilaration of something profound, and something no one else will ever experience.
Every first kiss pales before it.
God, this is the first kiss—the real one—so powerful no other kiss ever mattered.
His tongue mingles with mine, hot and focu
sed.
When he tastes me, I whimper, and he gives back a molten groan.
His lips make me believe for the tiniest second I’m someone else.
Not my father’s daughter.
Never touched. Never tainted.
Never tasted by anyone but him, and my heart turns electric, stalls, and sighs with pure bliss.
Why did I even try to deny it for so long? To fight this tooth and nail?
I’m head over heels for Alaska Charter.
For this selfless soldier, this amazing father, this stalwart protector who looks at me and doesn’t see the stains of my past.
He just sees the person I am now, everything I fight for, everything I work for, everything that matters in my deepest, darkest dreams.
Yes, he’s rapidly becoming one of those dreams.
And sweet baby Jesus, I want to kiss him forever.
Digging furrows in his shirt with my nails, I clutch at him, leaning in, almost panting against his lips.
Maybe I’m too eager—too needy—but the delicious pressure of his lips feels firm and fiery and thrilling.
My entire body awakens, aware of his bulk, his wild-mint and musk, the way his beard scratches my cheeks with just enough roughness to make the tender, gentle flick of his tongue against my lips that much more sinful.
It feels like we cling to each other for hours, his enormous hands sliding down my back, gripping my waist like he’s shaping me with his touch.
We don’t have hours, though.
We don’t even have minutes.
My heart skips for an entirely different reason as Shrub bounces up at my side, barking at the front door, just as the doorbell chimes through the house with an ominous echo.
Paisley.
That’s my first thought.
Paisley and her goons, that little nightmare pixie standing on my doorstep, waiting to press her pet knife to my throat and demand to know where I’ve got the gold—and how much I’d care if she severed Alaska’s fingers one by one until I tell her.
Calm down.
Calm down. It could be anyone, but if I stall any longer I’m just going to piss her off more.
And if I know anything, it’s that a pissed off nightmare pixie is a highly unstable, lethal nightmare pixie.
I break away from Alaska with a gasp.
He’s breathing hard, looking down at me with smoldering eyes, his lips reddened.
He has no idea what’s going on—the enormity of what could be lurking on the other side of that door—and if I can, I’m going to keep him out of it.
“Crap timing, right?” I say with a shaky smile before pushing myself up on wobbly legs. “Let me get that.”
“Sure,” he says huskily—so throaty, so deep, and despite the terror piled up inside, my blood burns at the desire in his voice.
Even if I don’t want him involved, knowing he’s here and I’m not alone makes me feel braver, a bit safer, as I stride to the door.
Hand on the knob, I rise up on my toes to peer out the peephole.
Only to sag as the tension rushes out of me, leaving me boneless with relief.
No nightmares waiting on my doorstep with sharkish grins after all.
Just Libby Silverton, standing on my porch with a buttery smile. The other angry pixie in my life, only this small, mouthy cowgirl is also one of my best friends.
She’s rocking on her heels with a bottle of wine dangling from one hand, whistling.
“Oh, crap,” I mutter. “I forgot!”
“Forgot what?” Alaska hefts himself up and starts lumbering over.
“I made plans with Libby. We’ve got a thing going—her and me and Clarissa, too. We’re doing a joint booth at the summer festival next week. Coffee from me, candy from Clarissa, pony rides from Libby and Holt.”
“Sounds eclectic,” he says with a smile.
“Yeah, but—ohh. I’m so sorry, Alaska.”
“Don’t be. I get it.” He smiles gently, and there’s not even a half second’s resentment or suspicion.
Totally not what I’m used to from most guys after they get a hot make out session unceremoniously interrupted.
“You want me to get gone?” he asks.
God, I want him to stay.
It shocks me how much I want him to stay, but...
“You’d probably get bored. Lots of fussing over silly decorations.” I smile wryly and pull the door open. “Plus, it’s going to be a hen party.”
“And a big boy like you makes a perfect target,” Libby chimes in without missing a beat, both of her eyebrows rising to her hairline as she peers past me, giving Alaska a once-over and whistling through her teeth. “Well, well, what’d I walk in on, Fliss?” Her grin widens, much too knowing. “Should I come back later?”
“Oh my God, Libby. Shut up.”
Alaska takes it with a carefree laugh and sweeps us both a bow before edging past me.
When his body brushes mine, my face ignites—no, not just my face.
Certain parts of me are alive with a vengeance, rudely reminding me they still exist.
Whatever else happens tonight, it’s going to involve me slipping into my drawer for fresh panties.
“Ladies,” he says with rumbling amusement. “Good luck with your planning.”
Then he pins me down with a beastly stare.
Eep. I tell myself that look is just because of the secrets between us, the terrible knowledge, but with my mouth still tingling from his kiss, my cheeks still so sensitive with the scrape of his beard...yeah, even I don’t believe it.
“I’ll see you back at the cabin, Fliss. Call me if you want me to come get you.”
He’s off, clattering down my front steps to his Jeep, moving with this lazy, casual confidence that turns into a sexy swagger because his is the kinda confidence that doesn’t need to shout itself to the entire world.
It’s just there.
So bone-deep it’s an essential part of him, and so devastatingly attractive.
I don’t think I remember to breathe until he’s gone.
Of course, the entire time I’m watching him, Libby’s watching me.
And when his headlights disappear around the corner, she jabs me in the side hard enough to make me squeak, smiling like a wolf.
“Inside. Right. Now,” she hisses, already grabbing my arm and dragging me. “I think you’ve got some stories to share, Miss Fel.”
Don’t I, indeed.
But they aren’t for Libby’s ears.
They aren’t for anyone’s.
Though I’m starting to wonder if Alaska Charter might be ready for my secrets—the good, the bad, and the ugly—after all.
14
Forged in Gold (Alaska)
Here’s what I want to know—what sick, twisted mind decided I deserve this shit?
There’s a special hell in sharing living space with a chick you’ve just kissed like there’s no tomorrow. Especially when the two of you can’t get a second alone to talk about it, much less see where flaming lips might lead.
If I’m not at work, she’s at The Nest.
If we’re both back at the cabin, Eli’s there gabbing away, and by the time he’s down for the night, she’s either had to run back to the café to take care of some loose end or she’s passed out from sheer exhaustion.
Still, every now and then, the way she looks at me?
Damn.
Ten thousand damns.
She’s got more gravitational pull than the frigging moon.
There’s a tidal heat, static in the air, an incessant fucking magnetism just rising and tugging and threatening to pull me into a ruin against her.
Whatever.
So maybe a little distance between us isn’t all bad, even if it’s turning my balls into blueberry fritters.
Fliss is a beautiful distraction tailored for my annihilation.
How can I even pretend to think straight when I catch the curve of her shoulder in the late evening light? Or the sweep of her lashes a
s she twists her head away like she’s trying to hide from me?
A smile, a sob, I never quite know with her.
She’s one hell of a mystery, and she’s got me all messed up.
Thankfully, the weekend brings a little relief, just not the kind I truly need.
A trip with the kids up into the mountains helps clear my head.
When Eli suggests going mountain biking—I’m guessing this was Tara’s idea—I’m all for it. Part of me wants to bring Fliss with us, but she’s got too much to do at the shop.
She practically pushes us out the door with thermoses of coffee and fresh-baked treats, promising me she’ll be safe with Ember and Doc watching over her. Just to be on the safe side, she’ll stay at the cabin instead of going back to her house, and I make sure Warren knows to make a few extra rounds.
It’s all for Shrub’s sake, she teases me.
So he won’t end up traumatized being bounced around from place to place so often.
And if Gavin shows up again, the little woofer can just gnaw his ankles off.
That teasing smile lingers in my brain as I watch Eli and Tara racing down the trails with a third in tow. Zach Regis, rushing to keep up, all three of them disappearing into sun-speckled dirt lanes between the trees with their feet pumping on the pedals. Their laughter and enthusiastic calls drift back to me as they swear they’ll be back soon and won’t wander off too far.
So much for clearing my head.
Not even the crisp mountain air can chase Felicity from my thoughts.
When I set out to build something new here, to make a more permanent home, I’d never really thought about adding a woman into the equation. Eli and I have always been just fine on our own, with a little help from his grandparents—now that we’re on speaking terms again.
But the whole damned reason why we were cut off for years still haunts me.
If I bring in another woman who ends up being bad for Eli, bad for me, it might shatter the fragile relationship Eli’s slowly built with my parents.
I get now why they cut me off.
I don’t agree with their scorched earth methods, and my ma’s always been a little lovingly controlling in that way only mothers can be, but I get it.
They were trying to knock some sense into me and make me see just how destructive Katelyn was; how dangerous.
