by Nicole Snow
“Even the Lone Ranger had Tonto,” I point out, and she laughs tiredly.
“Exactly. That’s why I screwed up. I thought...Jesus, when Eli and Tara disappeared, I thought Paisley took them. I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. I sprang into action, and by the time I found out the truth, it was too late to call off the dogs. I had to go through with it. And after you’d wrecked yourself looking for the kids...I thought I couldn’t burden you. Not with even more of my crap.”
“You’ve never burdened me.” I squeeze her hand, a low growl spilling from my throat. “Never been a burden. Never will be. And I shouldn’t have made you feel like you were for a split second. Even if Paisley had taken the kids, we’d have worked it out together. Her actions aren’t your fault. I never should’ve made you feel like I didn’t trust you. Like I blamed you, even for a second.”
Her lips tremble. She stares at me, her heart pulsing in her eyes.
“Alaska, I...”
“No. No more apologies.” I can’t bear to look into those gorgeous eyes or else I’ll give in to the urge to kiss her till neither of us can breathe. I need to force the rest out. “Fliss, I came here looking to make a new life. To start over. To make something real for my boy. I still want that, of course, but I’m greedier now. I want you with us. We’ve both had our lives torn up, and I know we can rebuild something stronger. Something better. Something damned beautiful together.”
“Paxton.” She swallows hard, her eyes brimming over, and she leans closer.
Goddamn, her magnetism captures me, hooks me in right by the soul.
I couldn’t break free from her spell if I wanted to, and I don’t ever want to lose her magic.
I let her pull me along.
I let her enchant me.
I let her look at me with her eyes so big and pretty and full of conviction.
I let that warmth in her eyes, in her voice, reel me in, the lure of her lips impossible to resist.
“Felicity,” I whisper. “I’ve gotta say, I love—”
“Okay,” Langley says, cutting off my I love you—damn him—as he pops his head back into the room like some demented gopher coming out of his hole. “You’re free to go for now. Your statements are fine, but I want you back here in the morning. This is a federal case now, and the FBI’s flying in tomorrow to take Lockwood into custody and speak to both of you.”
Felicity blushes neon-pink as we break away from each other, and she tucks her hair back, glancing at Langley. “Can they even arrest her in the condition she’s in?”
“Feds will handcuff her to the hospital bed if they have to, I guess.” Langley smiles thinly.
“They’ll credit Felicity with the catch, right?” I ask, clearing my throat.
Felicity gives me a puzzled look. So does Langley, his mustache twitching with his frown.
“I don’t know. I mean, I guess there’ll be reporters and all, but—”
“Nah, I don’t care about the news,” I say. “Sheriff, I did some digging on Paisley Lockwood. There’s over two million dollars in federal reward money at stake. Both U.S. and Canadian jurisdictions are offering it for anyone who supplies information or facilitates her capture. And since Felicity here not only turned over the gold, but she’s the reason you’ve got Paisley in custody...” I raise both brows. “I’d say she’s earned that cash, fair and square. I don’t want that fact getting lost in any administrative shuffle.”
“T-two million?” Felicity gasps, stuttering, clutching at my hand so hard I can feel her nails biting my skin. I ignore the pain and just squeeze back gently.
Meanwhile, Langley grins.
“Well, now. Seeing all the craziness that’s been happening around these parts the last few years, I’ve built up a bit of a reputation with a couple FBI boys. And if it means keeping my coffee supply coming...” His grin widens as he winks fit to shame the stars. “I’ll just have to see what I can do about giving the Feds an earful about that reward, won’t I?”
27
Wishing On A Golden Star (Felicity)
Two and a half million flipping dollars.
That’s how much the reward money came out to.
After taxes.
The day it hit my bank account, a few weeks after Paisley’s official arrest and the delivery of my statement to the FBI, I hyperventilated. Clarissa had me breathing in a paper pastry bag, and thank God, because if she wasn’t there when I got the payment notification...
I’m not sure I would’ve remembered how to breathe in time to enjoy my money.
Well, maybe I would, if Alaska hadn’t swept me up in such a ginormous bear hug that I had to take a panicked breath before he crushed my lungs.
That’s the only downside to having a boyfriend bigger than Paul Bunyan.
Some mornings I wake up and have to thump his shoulder to get him to roll off me before I crack a rib.
Oh, but you’ll never get me to admit out loud that I secretly like it.
He’s only the best man-blanket ever.
Plus, the fiercest sheet-ripping lover in existence.
Really, the best everything.
It’s all thanks to him that I have a life back.
A life, a shop, a newfound safety, a sense of pride, joy, and purpose.
When I say he put me back together again, piece by piece, it’s no exaggeration.
You can’t be who you really are when you’re paralyzed by sinister threats.
And in the weeks since Paisley’s arrest, I feel like I’ve rediscovered who I always was all over again, with Alaska there for every sweet moment—from fixing the latest damage worthy of an elephant stampede to my shop to completely renovating my storage room into a state-of-the-art roasting room.
I’ve even added on a whole crew of new hires to work the machines and churn out my custom blend, which—with a nice push from my marketing budget—should be going live soon.
I’ve even redone the packaging to start selling my beans nationally.
The label features a gorgeous wraparound of one of Eli’s photos, a stunning black and white interior shot of the empty café. The golden morning light streaking through the windows gives it color, evoking all the best feels.
Peace, comfort, and home.
That kid’s going to be famous one day, I swear.
I’m just proud watching him take his first steps toward perfecting his passion.
He’s hanging photos right now, working side by side with his father to measure and level before putting up framed shots all around the café. It’s a tastefully chosen selection from his collection of nature photos around town.
Alaska’s completely absorbed in it, of course, big goof that he is. He’s ridiculously serious about hanging these photos just right, ensuring they’re the same height and not a single one hangs even a micron off kilter.
Propping my elbows up on the coffee bar, I watch them fondly, grinning fit to crack.
I can’t help myself.
That Herculean dork.
That amazing, handsome, Herculean, dorkalicious dork.
He’s so fire he’s almost too handsome for life in the early sunrise filtering in through the windows. It’s hard to drag my eyes off him, but I lift the tray I’ve put together with a cup of Alaska’s favorite dark roast with a generous splash of sugar and a hot cocoa for Eli.
Stepping around the bar, I raise my voice to get their attention.
“Break time!” I call. “Actually, time to stop. I’ve got to unlock the doors in fifteen minutes, or half the town will riot if they don’t get their morning caffeine hit.”
“Good timing. We’re just about finished,” Alaska says, stepping back and eyeing the last framed photo with a critical look.
“Thanks, Fel!” Eli bounces over to steal his cocoa with a grateful chirp.
Alaska lingers a while longer, then turns to me with an easy, relaxed smile, reaching for the mug and lifting it to his lips. “Damn, that’s good. Thanks. I might actually survive finishing the inspections
on the museum’s foundation today with this.”
I tuck myself against his side, burying my face in his beard for a few wonderful seconds.
It’s so much easier to be casual with touching, with wanting affection, now.
Because I trust him.
I trust him to keep me and not to push me away.
I trust him to want me.
Possibly—hopefully—forever.
And I’m happy with the massive arm he hooks around my waist, holding me comfortably against his side as we look at the photos together.
“How far off is the grand opening?” I ask.
“It’ll be a while,” he says. “At least a couple years. Once the building’s certified to code, the town’s still got to officially move in, hire staff, move things over, the works.” He grins, turning his head to tease his thick beard into my hair. “My part’s almost done, though, if you’re getting used to having me playing houseboy.”
“Don’t you mean café boy?”
He wrinkles his nose. “Nah. That’s a little too close to rent boy, lady.”
“Weeeeell...” I sputter into laughter.
“Hey.” He barks out a laugh. “I mean, I’m happy earning my keep with you any day, Fliss.” His gaze softens as he lingers on the photos. “Hell, I just like doing things that feel like making a home with you. Whether it’s here or at the house.”
Eli rolls his eyes playfully. “Ugh, Dad, you’ve gone so soppy.”
“Damn right I have,” Alaska barks, grinning shamelessly and tightening his hold on me. “And don’t think you’re getting out of housework, either, young man. We’re redoing the baseboards in your room and then painting the whole thing.”
“Aww, my room’s fine!” Groaning, Eli slumps.
“Your room’s not fine, because your room used to be my room, and it wasn’t 'fine' when I was your age, either,” I point out, struggling not to laugh when he looks so dejected. “Don’t worry, dude. We’ll make it a party. We can order pizza and if we all pitch in with your dad’s muscle, we’ll be done in no time.”
“With that room, you mean.” He sighs. “You’re gonna make me help with the rest of the house too, aren’t you? Can’t I just walk Shrub all winter?”
Alaska shakes his head slowly, amusement twinkling in his eyes.
We share a look, loving how easily Eli’s bonded with my pet mop.
“You live in Felicity’s house now, same as me, which means you help. Especially if you want to turn that old storage room into a darkroom. You’ve gotta earn that, polecat.”
“Careful.” I poke Alaska’s side gently. “It’s our house. Not mine. Not anymore, if it ever truly was. We’re all working on the renovations and making it ours.”
I love that, honestly.
I love that we’re rebuilding the old house together. Rebranding it as ours, a symbol of three lives merging into happy unity.
Bit by bit, we’re turning it from this haunted shell of old memories into something fresh.
Something wholesome and happy.
Something we made.
A huge restart button you can crawl inside and live, and fall in love with.
Paxton’s eyes echo my whirlwind thoughts as he turns to look down at me with that russet-brown gaze glowing.
“My bad. It’s our home,” he rumbles. “Not just a house.”
“Sure is,” I whisper back softly, beaming like the sun.
I can’t help how my breath skips, how my heart stutters when he looks down at me that way.
Sweet God, I wish I had time right freaking now for what the heat in his eyes promises.
But there’s still a moment to rise up on my toes and press a sticky kiss to his lips, keeping it soft and chaste with Eli watching, but still lingering.
I take my time with that heated, firm mouth and the familiar scrape of his beard.
Sighing, I sink back down off my toes, curling my hands against his chest.
“See you after work?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He nuzzles into my hair. “Don’t forget our date.”
My heart thumps.
Oh, yeah. Right. That.
He wants to meet me at the cliffs tonight.
A special date.
And the (in)famous cliffs around Heart’s Edge are known for certain special promises.
I don’t want to get ahead of myself, to expect too much.
But I can’t help wondering...with the way things have been with us lately, and with the words I’ve been aching to say, could it really happen?
Could I dare hope that meeting at the cliff means Paxton Charter wants me in his life forever?
I’m a hot mess by the time I close up The Nest, head home for a shower, dress myself in the prettiest sundress I own, and check in on Eli at the Fords’.
It’s silly, really.
I’ve never been the type to go all mushy for the old romantic traditions of Heart’s Edge.
Everybody knows that story about the star-crossed lovers who’d rather jump off a cliff together into the winds than endure being separated by their family drama.
Honestly, it always seemed kinda depressing, despite the happy spin people put on it as the legends grew about their spirits living on, happy and in love, forever free and together in the hills.
I’ve always told myself I’m too practical for throwing flowers over a cliff and wishing on ghostly affection.
Maybe that’s because I never believed anything I wished for would come true.
Yet somehow, in this moment, as I park along the path winding up to the scenic overlook at the edge of the half-heart cliff, my heart climbs up my throat.
I have everything I could ever ask for, don’t I?
The answers I always needed.
The closure I always craved.
The safety of a life I made, a shop I fought to keep, a family I was able to protect.
A future I never dreamed.
Plus, most importantly, the amazing beast-man I see waiting for me up on the edge of the cliff. His massive, toned shape looks silhouetted against the glowing blue of the deepening night, the Milky Way scattered behind him like diamond dust.
He’s so compelling. I’m drawn to him like there’s an invisible thread between us, a taut chord stretched so tight its tension reels me in. I’m hardly aware of my own movement, coming closer along the path.
Right now, he owns my eyes.
His thick hair billows in wild tufts in the dusky shadows. The wind’s caught it in loving fingers and tosses it away from his noble face.
His crisp black button-down sits on him so casually, highlighting how effortlessly attractive he is.
Everything from the breadth of his mild-wide shoulders to the narrow taper of his waist and the fierce power in long, powerful arms and legs made to hold up the world.
He’s certainly become my own personal Atlas.
He’s looking out over the valley below, his eyes relaxed, his expression so very easy.
I smile, thinking for the hundredth time how his name really suits him.
Paxton.
One glance at him, and you’d think he should be a violent brute.
Instead, he’s the epitome of peace. Calm. Order.
And he’s tamed the storm of my life until those lashing energies became nothing but a spring rain.
Because of him, I’ve bloomed.
I hardly realize I’ve closed the gap between us, moving through the field of wildflowers until I’m surrounded by their sweet scent.
Oh, but they’ve got nothing on the wonderfully minty and masculine scent of Alaska, drawing me ever closer.
As my sandals gently crunch the grass underfoot, he lifts his head, then turns to face me, holding out both hands to me with a warm, smiling offering I can’t resist.
Another step closer, and I’m slipping my hands into his.
There’s a faint chill to the evening from early autumn coming on, but I hardly feel it when his touch ignites me with a heat
that starts in my heart and radiates to the tips of my toes.
“Hi,” I say softly.
“About time, beautiful,” he answers—almost mellow, and I can see the rapid beat of his heart in the tick of his pulse against his strong throat. He squeezes my hands, stroking his thumbs against my knuckles. “I’m amazed you came. I know how you feel about things like this.”
Holy Toledo.
Does he have any idea?
“Do you know how I feel about you?” I ask. I don’t know how I haven’t said it in all this time, but...
I’ve been brave about other things.
It’s past time to be brave about this.
Alaska’s eyes widen slightly, dark-mocha gems searching my face. “I’ve got a few big hopes for how you feel. I’m just...you know. Polar bear. Crappy with human words and fluent in grunts and growls.”
I snicker before my nerves take over again.
“Then let me help you,” I whisper. My heart’s in my throat, but it’s a sweet thrill. That’s new. To have my heart racing, my breaths shaky, and not from fear. It’s anticipation, wanting, wonder, hope. I grip his hands. “I love you, Alaska Charter. I think I’ve loved you since the first time you reached for me and made me feel like someone finally saw the real me.”
Gah, the way he smiles.
I’d do anything to see that grin for the rest of my life.
I’d fight a thousand vicious mafia brats, smuggle billions in gold. Move mountains. Give anything.
Including my heart.
Especially my heart.
But he’s already had that for months, whole and fragile and true, even if I’ve been a total baby about revealing it with the dreaded L-word. Only, now that it’s out there, that word doesn’t seem like instant doom.
And I don’t resist when he draws me closer, speaking in a hushed whisper that cries reverence, wonder, and awe...all for me.
“Here I thought telling you I love you would scare you away,” he says. “Damn, Fliss. You’re in me. Burning away like this inferno in my chest I can’t extinguish—I don’t want to—and I can’t imagine life without you. I closed myself off after Katelyn, and nothing made me want to open up again till I found you.” He releases one of my hands, curling his fingers against my cheek with the roughness of his touch grazing my skin. “I need you in my life. Eli needs you in his. You make everything we are, everything we’ll ever be, complete.”
