Love Grows in Alaska (The Washington Triplets)

by Michelle Lynn

  My heart was shattered by Nate for the last time at the wake because I knew it was over between us. If he couldn’t stand by and comfort me at the death of my mother, he’d never be someone I could lean on. Sensations of loneliness seeped further after losing my mom. At my end with my emotional roller-coaster, I left him and fled to a friend until eventually deciding to move to Alaska. It’s amazing how all the cruel things he did and said to me, lite up in my head like a flashing neon sign, once I was free. I just wish that unsure feeling that no one will love me would depart from my mind.

  Coming back from memory lane to a cold cup of coffee, I startle at the presence in front of me. I slowly shake my head at the likelihood of this coincidence. “I swear you have some sort of GPS on me,” I remark, pressing my palms down on the sides of the chair to stand up.

  He steps closer and I fall back down into the soft cushions. “I gotta say, I like that idea.” He smirks and I roll my eyes.

  “Maybe if you didn’t have a girlfriend,” I add, raising my eyebrows for dramatic effect.

  “I don’t.” His face not showing a glint of deceit. He takes the cup from the side of the table and walks over to the garbage. My eyes glued to his ass the whole time. I like the casual look of jeans and sneakers with a sweatshirt. Shows he’s younger than I thought. “If you would have stayed around longer, you’d have found out Bree’s my cousin.” That damn pompous grin in place.

  “Oh,” I mutter. Shit, I couldn’t have come back with something snarkier? Why can’t I channel Mya on occasion?

  He holds his hand out in front of me and I try the indignant girl thing, but he grabs it anyway. “Let’s go.” He pulls me up and I willingly oblige, because I’m certain my body is not agreeing with my mind at this moment.

  “Where are we going?” I attempt to plant my feet on the carpet and not move them, but he amusedly shakes his head, walking away from me toward the front door. Turning around, his head tilts, silently asking why I’m not following.

  “Coffee. Although, I’m not sure you’ve been denying yourself caffeine for too long, you deserve a lot better than what the hotel complimentary one has to offer.” He motions to the door with his head and God help me, I can’t decline. Everything in me ignites with the thought of only a couple of minutes in this man’s company. When I begin walking toward him, he holds his hand out again and I take it. He links our fingers together, kindling the butterflies to start fluttering.

  Leading me away from the hotel, I wonder if I should message Libby just to let her know, in case Mr. Gorgeous is some axe murder. Before I can grab my phone, he opens the door to a huge pick-up truck and I climb in. While he’s making his way around the front of the truck, I text Libby a message that I’m going for coffee with Zach Greer and I’ll check in later. My phone dings as soon as he sits down in his seat.

  Libby: So jelly…want details later.

  I shove it back in my pocket as though he wouldn’t notice, but from the small smile gracing his lips, he did. “Tell Mom I promise to have you back in one piece.” His casual and laidback persona is a nice change from Nate’s neurotic one. I mentally fight with myself not to compare the two. Nate is long gone, probably fucking up someone else’s mind already.

  Is it possible for a car to induce a feeling of safety? It has soft grey cloth seats and not a spec of dust on the dashboard. It’s a lot like my own car, minus the stockpile of ponytail holders in the cup holder. Maybe I’m not so different than Zach Greer.

  “So, Marisa, do you want chain or do you like to try out new places?” He glances my way and then back to the road.

  “New places,” I answer and his smile widens.

  “I’m glad,” he responds, “there’s the original King’s Gate coffee shop with a bakery attached just ahead. I felt bad when the chain came in and took some of their business. Most locals remain faithful to them, but King’s Gate thrives on their tourists so it’s made it hard.” I want to sigh and place my hand over my heart at the way he sounds so invested in this town and business. Instead, I nod and cross my legs.

  I watch him eye my legs and then set straight again. “Are you a local?” Doubling back to our conversation last night that he never told me anything about himself.

  He tilts his head left and right, debating his answer. “Yes and No. I moved up here about five years ago, so, I’m not sure what that makes me.”

  “I would say local. Do you ever leave King’s Gate?” I ask and then wish I could take it back because I saw him in Anchorage last week.

  He laughs, the deepest most welcoming sound I’ve heard in a long time. “Yeah, I’m not a hermit or anything.”

  “I just meant, do you spend all your time up here?” I continue to ramble and he places his hand on my leg to stop me. An electrical current shoots up my leg, right to my center from his touch. I think I felt more heat from that one touch than all the years I was with Nate. Ugh … stop comparing.

  “I know what you meant.” He chuckles. “I do spend all my time up here. Last week, I had a business meeting in Anchorage.” The humor leaves him and the cab of the truck turns awkward. Sensing I pushed further than he wanted to go, I remain quiet for the remainder of the trip.

  We pull up to the cutest bakery with a pink, green and purple sign out front reading Molly’s Coffee and Cakes. A cute image of a woman in an apron with a welcoming smile stamped right above the name. Zach parks diagonally on the street and I exit the truck before he has a chance to open my door for me, because that labels this as a date. I don’t want to be presumptuous that maybe it could be.

  “Hmm … you are really going to make me work for this.” He lightheartedly laughs, placing his hand out to me again. My nerves calm with his declaration that I could be wrong.

  “It’s not like this is a date.” Battling with myself, I allow further doubts to sink in, stupidly verbalizing them. My hand chills from the cooler Alaska weather when he takes his hand out of mine and places it over his heart as though I wounded him.

  “You break my heart, Marisa,” he feigns, the drool-worthy smile never faltering. I’m positive if he asked, I’d accept the invitation back to his place and allow him to manipulate me anyway he wished.

  “I don’t remember being asked.” I lift one shoulder up, trying to flirt as best I can. Walking steady to the doors, Zach grips my upper arm and swings me around.

  His hands grab my arms to stop me from circling and I inch back due to his close proximity from the sudden movement. I sway into his arms catching a scent of peppermint that I desperately need to taste. “Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up outside the hotel at six.” Then he swings me to face forward again and links those long fingers in mine, warming me instantly.

  “Maybe we should see how coffee goes,” I say, wishing I’d double-lock my mouth shut because I’m pretty sure after coffee I’ll only be yearning for more.

  “I’m fairly certain I’ll be fighting the urge to drive you back to my place after this, I can’t imagine what shape I’ll be in by tomorrow,” he divulges, staring down at me. Those blue eyes so mesmerizing, I don’t want to tear away.

  “Excuse me,’’ I vaguely hear in front of me, and a dimple begins to crease in Zach’s perfect cheeks while his lips turn up.

  He places his other hand on my shoulder and steps us away from the door. “Sorry, Mrs. Carrington,” he says, never wavering his focus on me.

  Now the woman’s voice is behind me. “That’s quite all right, Zach, I see you’re occupied.” She giggles quietly, jolting me from the trance of Zach Greer.

  Zach chuckles when he notices my eyes pop open. “Shall we?” he asks, holding the door open for me.

  Cinnamon and coffee are the first things that float below my nostrils, as though there’s a scented candle by the door. Checking to make sure there isn’t, my mouth salivates with the thoughts of a large coffee with a chunk of cinnamon cake from the glass case crumbing in my mouth with every bite. The only image better would be Zach feeding it to me, naked in bed after he pleasu
red me into oblivion. Crap, there goes my mind again. What is this man doing to me?

  “Yes, two please. Thanks, Molly.” Zach’s voice suddenly brings me down to reality that there’s still clothing separating us. Blinking my eyes, they find a sweet, middle-aged woman, a little round in the belly, with a brown, bob hair style and wearing a frilly apron. An exact resemblance of the sign posted out front.

  I lead the way, following Molly who tells customers she’ll be right back or gives a quick hello. The patrons, happy to see her. Some touching her arms and others saying how they missed her. How nice it must be to be liked and cared for by so many people. I could come around to this small town love. She places two small menus on the table of a booth in the back corner. “This should do for you both,” she comments and then focuses her sights on me. “I’m Molly, are you new in town?” she asks, and I smile before answering.

  “Hi, I’m Marisa and I’m just visiting for a work retreat,” I inform her, and her lips fall before she recovers and then eyes Zach, whose dimples never falter. I wonder if I could pry some information about Zach out of Molly. She looks like a woman that would be willing to gossip with me.

  “Well, at least you have a good tour guide.” She smiles softly to Zach and he mimics her expression.

  “Thank you, Molly,” Zach says and she pats his hand before scrambling to another table, chatting them up.

  “She seems very nice,” I comment, picking up the menu and looking over what they offer. Since it’s between lunch and dinner, she has a variety of sandwiches and homemade potato chips. Everything sounds delicious.

  “She is. It’s her family’s bakery. They’ve been here from the start of King’s Gate, but every generation that takes it over changes the name and logo to fit their style. It first started as just coffee and donuts. Molly brought in more coffee variety and sandwiches. Her grandma had expanded to more coffee cakes and danishes. The list goes on and on; it’s pretty cool actually how the generations don’t get pigeon-holed into a specific company type.” I love the way he knows so much about a town he’s only lived in for five years, but I can’t help but notice that with that last sentence his voice changed octaves. I wonder what Zach Greer is hiding behind that gorgeous face and casual attitude?

  “That really is. I can’t imagine growing up in such a small city, knowing everyone.” I place my menu down, deciding on coffee.

  “Yeah, probably your worst nightmare.” He places his own menu on the table and for the first time his eyes don’t meet mine when he says it, instead they focus outside the window.

  “Not at all. I kinda like it,” I say and he turns his attention back to me, dimples deepening with another amazing smile. Earning those is worth sticking around, that’s for sure.

  “Really? Usually you big city girls wouldn’t be able to stand it up here where you know everyone and everyone knows your business.” He assumes he can classify me into a category, or he’s testing the waters to see if he’s wasting his time with me, which I would love to jump in his lap and assure him, if he’s part of the package, I’m all in.

  “I moved to Anchorage,” I tease and he chuckles.

  “In comparison to King’s Gate, that’s big city, but I really meant coming from Chicago.” Another waitress walks over, interrupting the conversation and fills our coffee mugs. She’s probably early twenties, long dark hair, but the same button nose as Molly.

  “Hi, Zach,” she greets him.

  “Hi, Riley. This is Marisa.” He introduces me to the cute little waitress while she eyes him before tossing me a courtesy glance. Then right back to him.

  “What can I get you two?” she asks, never really pointing the question in my direction.

  “I’m fine with coffee, thanks,” I answer, wrapping my hands around the mug to feel the warmth and bringing it up to my lips.

  “We’re going to split a cocoa coffee cake,” Zach says, and Riley stops writing at the word share.

  “Share?” she questions.

  “Yeah, share. Thanks.” Zach quickly ends the back and forth, making my mind swim with images of them together. Has he … does she … questions float around in my overused head.

  “As in two forks?” Riley continues, and I bite my lip to keep the laughter in at her obvious jealousy.

  “Yes, Riley. Thank you,” Zach exasperatedly replies. Riley huffs like a toddler as though she was told no in the middle of a toy aisle and stalks away from the table.

  I wait a few minutes to see if Zach might add something to clue me into their relationship, but he doesn’t. Instead, his eyes study me with that damn smirk. “What’s going on with you two?” I ask, unable to let it sweep under the rug.

  “Nothing.” His face completely stone.

  “Ever?” I tilt my head, double-checking.

  “Never.” He shakes his head, smiling.

  “It seems like maybe she—” I foolishly continue.

  “Marisa.” I love the way the s in my name rolls from his tongue. He reaches over and laces his fingers in mine across the table. I’ve never been a huge fan of holding hands over the table, always cringed witnessing people doing the cheesy behavior, but in this moment, when the butterflies are at capacity in my stomach, I only wish he could hold more than my hand. “There’s no woman in this town that I’ve been with.”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  “I just want to clarify. So when we walk around or go to dinner, you never have to worry.”

  “So, you just go after the out-of-towners? Less of a hassle in the whole commitment thing?” I seam my lips together, but unable to keep the upturn slightly at the corners. Don’t want him realizing the jealous thoughts of the women before me that ring in my head.

  “You’re the first.” He shrugs his shoulder while blowing on the cup of coffee, his eyes holding steady on mine, waiting for a reaction from me.

  “I doubt it.”

  “I don’t lie. You are. I’m not saying I’ve been celibate, but I haven’t been with anyone in King’s Gate.” His eyes widen as though that’s his sign he’s telling the truth.

  “Okay.” I let it go because his eyes do seem genuinely truthful and that is scary, because I put my trust in Nate all those years ago and I’m not sure I can do it again.

  “What about you? Do you have a boyfriend back in Anchorage?” he asks, leaning back and spreading his arm out along the back of the booth.

  “No.” I shake, begging that smile to stay hidden.

  “Chicago?”

  “Nope.” I shake my head again, biting my lower lip.

  “That’s great news.” Those dimples dig so far in his cheeks, and I hope he’s not making promises he won’t fulfill.

  “That I’m a loser with no social life?” I jokingly sneer and he chuckles.

  “No, that there’s no one I have to beat out.” He smiles and then a coffee cake in the size of a small watermelon lands on the table. Two forks bounce off the aluminum a second after.

  “Enjoy,” Riley says and turns on her heels.

  “Are you sure, you never—”

  “I swear. That attraction is one way.” He confirms the one-sided lust from Riley. I can’t blame her; as Zach sits across from me, I’ve already pictured him naked at least ten times.

  Our fingertips zing when they brush against one another’s when he picks up the fork and hands it over to me. Digging it in the spongy cake, my mouth drools imaging the cinnamon, sugar and sweetness that’s about to fill my taste buds. “Man, can I take it home and cover my body in that cake?” Zach laughs, erupting a giggle from me.

  “Why do you say that?” I ask and place the forkful into my mouth, my lips covering the fork and slowly pulling it out of my mouth.

  “Because your eyes were devouring the cake and you hadn’t even tasted it yet.” He picks up his own fork and takes a small tasting.

  “Sorry, I love sweets.” The urge to close my eyes due to all the tastes exploding in my mouth bombards me full force, but I deny it, not wanting to seem lame in fr
ont of Zach.

  “There’s nothing to be sorry for. It just makes me want to be your something sweet.” Thoughts of Zach Greer as my dessert plunge in my head. Zipping my lips of my freaky fantasy, Zach shoots me a knowing smirk. I’ve got to get better at hiding my emotions.

  CIRCLING THROUGH THE ROTATING DOORS, wheeling in bliss from my coffee with Zach, I’m startled to find Libby pacing in the lobby. She swishes back and forth on the tile floor with her teeth pinned down on her nails.

  “Lib!” I call out and she jolts to my voice before her feet speed up, rushing to me. Unable to process everything, her body slams into me and I falter back before recovering. I’m terrified of what happened; I was only gone a few hours. “What’s wrong?” Sobs escape her throat and I firmly comfort her with my arms.

  “Cam … Camden … is … on his way.” A screeching sound ruptures my ear, causing me to cock my head away from her.

  “Isn’t that a good thing?” I whisper to keep the nosy eyes at bay, since we’ve already become a spectacle in the lobby.

  “NO!” she yells and I watch an elderly lady pat her friend’s arm and point to us.

  “Let’s go up to my room, okay?” I pull her back, witnessing her swollen eyes.

  “Ok … ay.” She hesitates, but allows me to guide her to the elevators.

  I hold Libby close to my body, her head in the crock of my neck, tears streaming down my skin. We secure ourselves in my room, thankful of neither Wes or Pete hearing. Leading us over to the bed, I sit her down and then grab a water from the fridge. Twisting it open, I hand it over to her and she takes a sip.

  “Libby, I don’t understand. You were crushed you were leaving Camden. You seemed happy he was going to come.” The bed dips as I sit next to her and she quickly changes position to face me. Her one leg tucked under the other, she wipes the lone tears left. My fear that my intuition that Camden is a little too much like Nate is turning correct which frightens me for Libby.

  “He’s not coming to see me.” She bites her lip, and although Wes is the first thought that rings in my head for some reason, I keep my mouth shut.