Awakening Alex

by Ruth Langan

  Her hand held firm. “I can do this…”

  They both stopped, then awkwardly tried again.

  “You made the chili.” She lifted her chin. “The least I can do is grate the cheese.”

  “You worked all day, while all I did was hike.” He reached a hand to hers, and noticed that she pulled away as though burned when their flesh made contact. “Okay.” He turned away abruptly. “I’ll start the biscuits.”

  “You’re making biscuits?” Her fingers were still vibrating, and she struggled to regain her composure.

  “Not from scratch.” He pointed to the can of dough. “It says on the label that all I have to do is arrange them on a cookie tin and bake for fifteen minutes. I think I can manage that.”

  He began setting them on a baking sheet.

  “I’m still impressed.” She grated cheese into a bowl. “Most of the men who come up here to hunt wouldn’t even be willing to attempt biscuits.”

  When the bowl was filled with cheese she turned and bumped into Grant, who was just straightening.

  They jerked apart.

  Flustered, Alex turned on the taps and began to wash the grater while Grant focused on placing the tin in the oven and setting the timer.

  She glanced over her shoulder. “Where do you want to…?”

  He turned to her at the same moment. “What do you think about…?”

  They both stopped.

  Grant waved a hand. “Go ahead. You first.”

  “No. What did you want to say?”

  He turned toward the stove and stirred the chili, then dropped the spoon with a clatter. “Look. I’m sorry about what’s…happened between us. That is, I’m not sorry. In fact, I’d do it again. But I don’t like what it’s doing to us now. I’d like to start over.”

  Alex took a deep breath. “Yeah. Me, too.”

  “Great.” For the first time he smiled. “I think I’d like a beer. How about you?”

  “I’d like that.”

  He removed two cold beers and popped the tops, then poured one into a mug and handed it to her. He lifted a can to his lips and drank deeply. “While the chili’s simmering, I’ll go toss another log on the fire. That is, if you don’t mind eating in the great room.”

  “That’s fine with me.” She waited until he’d sauntered from the room. Then she leaned against the counter and took a deep breath. Starting over wasn’t as easy as she’d hoped. The mere touch of his hand had brought the familiar heat. But she was determined to relax and have an enjoyable evening.

  If it killed her.

  “When did you start working here at the lodge?” Grant settled himself in front of the roaring fire and tucked into his chili.

  “Back in high school and college, Buck Thornton ran the lodge for Grandpa Sully. I used to spend my summers here, working as Buck’s assistant. I’d take fishing parties out for the day, and occasionally act as trail guide when a group of hunters wanted to go up into the hills. At first Buck wasn’t keen on having a girl working, even if it was only part-time. He was worried that the old-boys’ club would be annoyed at the intrusion of a female in their midst. But when the others realized that I wasn’t going to faint at the sight of a bloody carcass, and could actually outhike most of the hunters, they started to accept me. As he got older Buck began giving me more and more responsibility until finally he decided he was ready to retire. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. I’d just finished a stint with Grandpa Sully at Lake Como, and he was urging me to take over the operation of one of our hotels. When this became available, I knew I couldn’t go anywhere else.”

  She realized that she’d finished an entire bowl of chili while she’d been talking. As she spooned more into her dish, she glanced over. “Did I remember to tell you how good this is? I want your recipe.”

  “Now I’m not sure I can do that.” He shot her a grin over the rim of his beer. “It’s an old family recipe, passed down from father to son for four generations. We Malones guard it with our lives. If I told you, I’d have to marry you, just to see that it stayed in the family.”

  “Okay. But I’ll have to squeeze the ceremony in between chores. I want the lodge winterized before the first snowfall.”

  “You’re such a romantic,” he deadpanned.

  “Yeah. That’s what all the guys tell me.” She lifted the spoon to her mouth and tasted, then rolled her eyes, considering. “No. I don’t think it’s worth marriage. An engagement, maybe. A wild fling. But marriage…?” She shook her head and laughed when he lifted his hands to her throat.

  “All right. So the chili recipe is off-limits. Now about these biscuits…”

  He leaned back and sipped his beer. “No problem. The Dough Boy tells anyone who’ll listen. He probably has his own Web site.”

  “Did your grandfather ever tell you about the night he ate twenty-six buttermilk biscuits?”

  He lowered his beer. “You’re kidding.”

  “No I’m not.” She took another bite of chili before setting aside the bowl and picking up her mug of beer. “There were six hunters here that weekend. Grandpa Sully, your grandfather and four of their cronies. They’d been trying to one-up each other the entire time. First it was the biggest fish. Everybody had to put ten dollars in the pot, knowing whoever caught the biggest would win. Mickey came close, but one of the others beat his catch by three ounces. The next day, everybody had to ante up another ten dollars before going hunting with their cameras. Grandpa Sully snagged a shot of an eight-point buck and won that jackpot. Your grandfather was getting desperate to win. And that night over poker, wouldn’t you know that one of the group drew a full house.”

  “Another sixty-dollar jackpot,” Grant muttered.

  “Exactly.” Alex started chuckling. “They were coming up on the last day, and just about everybody had won except Mickey. So, in desperation, your grandfather bet the others that he could eat more biscuits in one sitting than anybody else. One man said he could eat half a dozen. Mickey scoffed. Then Grandpa Sully said he could eat a whole dozen. Again Mickey laughed, and offered to go head-to-head, double or nothing.” She laughed, remembering. “You have to understand. Grandpa Sully isn’t the sort of man who can ever pass up a bet if the price is right. And your grandfather knew it. So there they were, like two little boys, egging each other on. Grandpa Sully ate six, and Mickey ate seven. Grandpa Sully ate four more and Mickey matched him. All around the table, the others were taunting them like a pack of bullies. Grandpa Sully managed ten more, then watched as Mickey gulped down eleven without even swallowing them. That did it. Grandpa Sully ate five more before he started to turn green, and Mickey matched him. Then Mickey calmly ate one more, licked the crumbs from the plate, and watched while my grandfather counted out one hundred and twenty dollars. A minute later Mickey rushed out of the room, while everybody sat around howling. We figured he was going to pay dearly for that jackpot.”

  Grant shook his head from side to side while he roared with laughter. “Leave it to my grandfather. But at least he’d earned bragging rights for another year.”

  “Yep. It’s wonderful to watch those two together. They’ve had such great times through the years.” She got to her feet. “Want another beer?”

  “Sure.”

  While she was gone, Grant tossed a log on the fire, and stood watching as the flames began to lick along the bark. It occurred to him that he hadn’t laughed this much in a year. It felt good. Everything about this night felt good. Being here with Alex Sullivan. Doing nothing more important than swapping stories of their grandfathers’ escapades and enjoying the warmth of a fire.

  “Here you are.” She handed him another beer.

  As their fingers brushed, they both took a step back and realized that the spark was still there. But at least they recognized it for what it was, and were able to hold it at bay.

  For the time being.

  Alex had curled up in one corner of the sofa, her feet tucked beneath her. “Mickey once told me he was a retired pol
ice captain.”

  “Yeah. One of New York’s finest.”

  She heard the note of pride in his tone. “Through the years I’ve heard a number of his stories.”

  “Yeah, that’s my grandfather. He has a million of them. I grew up hearing his tales of heroes and villains. I couldn’t get enough of them. I used to spend my weekends with him just so I could listen to him and his wild tales. In his day, the cops were always the good guys. And the good guys always won.”

  “That’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

  “Yeah.” He stood and poked at the fire until the charred log flared into flame. Then he returned the poker to the fire set and remained where he was, staring into the flames as though mesmerized.

  Alex studied the way he looked. His eyes slightly narrowed. His thumbs hooked into his pockets. Where did he go when he lapsed into silence? Wherever it was, he didn’t go willingly. There was a pensiveness, a sadness that tugged at her heart.

  Except for his grandfather, Grant mentioned no family. And though she was curious, she was reluctant to probe. When he was ready, he would talk about himself and those he loved. Until then, she’d stick to safe, bland topics that wouldn’t stir up unhappy memories.

  “Lem says it’ll snow by the end of the week.”

  He lifted his head. Pulled himself back from his thoughts. “How does he know?”

  “His knee. It’s his weather barometer. He always knows days before it rains or snows. Or whenever the weather is about to make a drastic change.”

  “Think he’s more accurate than the TV weathercasters, with all their maps and charts?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then he ought to patent it. He could retire from this job and make himself a fortune.”

  Alex laughed. “That wouldn’t even tempt Lem. He’s been working here at the lodge for more than fifty years. Even when he held a second job, he used to come by just to lend a hand. It was never for the money. It still isn’t. Snug Harbor Lodge is his second home.”

  “That’s obvious. He takes a lot of pride in his work. And it shows. I don’t think I’ve ever seen tools that old gleam like new.”

  Alex laughed. “He polishes them as soon as he’s finished with them.”

  “I believe it. And that shed.” Grant shook his head. “You could eat off the workbench.”

  “I wouldn’t recommend it. There have been some pretty unappetizing specimens found there.”

  They shared a laugh.

  Grant held up the empty can. “I think I’ve had enough of this. How about some coffee?”

  “Sure thing.” Before she could get up he shook his head.

  “You stay where you are. I’ll make it.”

  He returned a short time later with a tray of coffee and cups. After pouring, he handed one to Alex and helped himself to the other, before walking to the window to peer out at the darkness.

  “When did Lem say we’d get that snow?”

  “He didn’t say. He just told me it would be here before the week was out.”

  “He was right on the money. Look.”

  Alex hurried over to switch on the outside lights, revealing a curtain of snow.

  “Oh.” She clasped her hands together and pressed her nose to the window to stare in silence.

  Grant was watching her reaction. “You don’t seem very unhappy about this.”

  She shook her head, sending her hair dancing around her shoulders. “I can’t help myself. I always feel like a kid when I see the first snowfall of the season. It’s just so beautiful.”

  “Yeah.” And so was she. He clenched his hand into a fist at his side to keep from touching her. “Did Lem say how much snow would fall?”

  “Just a dusting. But it’s a start.” She breathed deeply. “I need to get at the rest of those tree limbs tomorrow. Wouldn’t want them crashing down in a storm.”

  “I’ll give you a hand.”

  She turned to smile at him. “You don’t need to do that. Lem will be here.”

  “I want to. I’ve had enough tramping through the woods alone. Besides, I think I’d like to spend an entire day with the two of you, just to see how many words the old guy can string together into one sentence.”

  She laughed. “You’d be surprised. Sometimes he can be downright talkative.”

  “Uh-huh.” He grinned, and Alex thought again how appealing he was when he was relaxed. “You’re not fooling me. I’ve already concluded that the two of you communicate through telepathy.”

  “Another secret revealed.” She gave a mock sigh. “Next thing you know, people will discover how wonderful this place can be in winter, when it’s covered by six feet of snow. And then my winter hibernation will come to a close and I’ll have to endure the rigors of success.”

  “Hey. It could be worse. You could be up here all alone and begging for visitors.” He found himself tugging on a lock of her hair before he realized what he was doing. At once he felt the rush of heat, and saw a similar blaze in her eyes.

  For the space of several moments they merely stared at each other in silence.

  Grant didn’t know which was worse. Having to ignore the hunger he could read in her eyes. Or having to deny the needs that had his throat dry and his heart pumping furiously.

  He’d made himself a promise. And for as long as he could manage it, he intended to tough it out.

  He lowered his hand and took a step back.

  “Well, this has been great.” He turned away and started across the room, forcing a lightness to his tone he didn’t feel. “Now if you don’t mind, Ms. Sullivan, since I did the cooking, I’ll leave the cleaning to you while I retire to my room.”

  “I don’t mind at all, Mr. Malone. Cleaning is my life.” She followed his example and kept her words light. “Good night.”

  “’Night.”

  “See you in the morning.”

  “Yeah. See you.”

  She waited until she heard the door to his room close. Then she poured herself a second cup of coffee and returned to the window to watch the snowflakes dance past.

  She was proud of the fact that they’d managed to get through the entire evening without giving in to whatever feelings were there just below the surface. But the truth was, it had been much more difficult than she’d anticipated. Instead of the situation being better, she had the sense that it was actually much worse.

  They’d kept things from boiling over this time. But sooner or later, she feared all those simmering feelings would simply explode. And when they did, she’d be helpless to do more than hold on and ride out the storm.

  Chapter 7

  “Well? Are you happy?” Grant pointed to the window, where early morning sunlight glinted off a ground dusted with snow.

  “Oh, it’s lovely.” Alex paused to admire the view.

  While she did, he took the moment to study her. She looked as fresh and radiant as a kid at Christmas in sturdy denims and a turtleneck. Her hair was tied back with a strip of plain leather. Her complexion, free of makeup, was, as always, flawless.

  She turned away from the window. It occurred to her that this was the first time she’d seen him this early in the morning. “What do you usually eat for breakfast?”

  “Breakfast? What’s that?”

  “The meal we eat in the morning, to get our body jump-started for the day.”

  “Oh. That. I usually eat whatever is in my refrigerator, as long as it isn’t moving or covered with mold.”

  “Good. You’re easy.” She opened the pantry and removed several boxes of cereal. “There’s milk and juice in the fridge.”

  While Grant retrieved them, she started grinding fresh coffee beans. By the time they sat down to bowls of cereal topped with slices of bananas and peaches, Alex had poured two steaming cups of coffee.

  He tasted, then sighed. “Home was never like this.”

  “All it takes is a little planning and a little shopping.” She poured milk from a pitcher into her bowl. “Neither of which I can r
eally admit to. I have this wonderful neighbor who fills my larder during my busy season. She and her daughters help with the cooking, cleaning and laundry. I haven’t seen them now for over a week. But I expect she’ll be stopping by in the next day or so with a supply of goodies from the village market.”

  “Nice. If I had a friendly shopper, that would take care of the food. But what would I do about the woman across the table?”

  “There are plenty of those around.” She sipped her coffee. “Have you ever been married?”

  “No.”

  “I’m surprised.” She studied him over the rim of her cup. “Haven’t you even been tempted?”

  He nodded. “A time or two. But most women aren’t interested when they learn what line of work…” He paused, then simply picked up his cup and drank.

  For long moments there was a strained silence. Finally, he said, “How about you, Alex? Ever been married?”

  She shook her head.

  “Ever come close?”

  She smiled, remembering. “Once. Fortunately for both of us, I came to my senses in time.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “He hated the country. Thought hiking in the mountains was for nature freaks. Absolutely loathed snow and cold. His idea of a good time was following the sun and surf from one coast to the other. He paid his way by doing odd jobs, then moving on before he could grow bored with what he called ‘the worker drones’ of life. Can you imagine a more unlikely mate?”

  Grant was chuckling. “The two of you must have had something in common. What attracted you to him in the first place?”

  She finished her cereal and carried the empty bowl to the sink. “If you must know, he looked great in a bathing suit. And I was a shallow eighteen-year-old.”

  “Oh, that explains it. Are you telling me that now that you’ve matured, you no longer look at guys in bathing suits?”

  “I didn’t say that.” She rinsed the bowl and set it in the dishwasher. “I may be ten years older now, but I’m nobody’s fool. I still like a great body.” She closed the door of the dishwasher and straightened.

  She strolled to the door. “I hear Lem’s truck. You can find us out in the shed when you’re finished with breakfast.”