“Certainly you may, sir.”
The hallway was too narrow for us to walk side-by-side, but Harlan insisted on “escorting” me, so I laughingly allowed myself to be hauled sideways along the hall and then down the even narrower stairway. When we emerged into the dining room, arms linked, stumbling and laughing, heads turned toward us. Natasha looked up from a conversation with Joanne Lance and frowned.
“Gracie. Harlan. What are you doing?”
“We’re headed to the Moose, Mrs. Freeman,” Harlan answered, straightening up, but still holding my arm.
“Together?” Natasha’s frown deepened.
“A bunch of us ‘outsiders’ are meeting for a few drinks,” I explained quickly.
Natasha’s gaze lingered on our linked arms as we made our way out of the dining room.
Outside The Spruce, we broke apart with a burst of laughter.
“You’re in trouble!” Harlan teased me as we walked toward the tavern.
“So are you! You’re supposed to be using your Southern charm on local women only. Didn’t you read the fine print in your employment contract?”
“I can’t help it if I’m irresistible. You’ll have to be strong for the both of us, Grace, my love. No matter how difficult it is, you cannot fall in love with me.”
“Oh, Harlan. It’s too late.” Flirting with Harlan was safe, harmless. There was no heat in the smiles he gave me, and despite his easygoing humor, he held himself at a certain remove. The few conversations I’d had with Harlan were always light, easy. He avoided personal topics, said little about himself.
“Here we are,” Harlan announced.
Wedged between the Ankkonisdoy Guide Service office and a small engine repair shop, the Blue Moose was distinguished by a royal blue entry door. Harlan pulled it open.
“Ladies first,” he said magnanimously.
I almost quailed, but I had enough pride to hide my anxiety. “Thank you,” I said, swanning into the small entryway.
We had to pass through another bright blue door to enter the heat, noise, and crowd of the bar. My heart kicked up a notch, and I found myself automatically searching all the faces for Alex. Logically, I knew he wouldn’t be here. But instinctively, I had to reassure myself. I expected every half-shadowed face, every turned back, to be his. But almost every face was turned towards us when we entered, and I was quickly assured that Alex was not among them.
The Blue Moose was not quite like any bar I’d ever been to. The actual bar counter was built out of plywood and painted the same bright blue as the door. None of the barstools matched, and half of them looked handmade—repurposed rebar welded together for the legs and a mixture of plywood and upturned 5-gallon buckets used for the seats. Instead of a mirror behind the bar, there was a giant blue moose painted on the wall.
The tables scattered around the open space had also been salvaged. There was a giant cable spool with mismatched aluminum folding chairs gathered around it. There was an old wrought-iron coffee table whose glass top had been replaced with a sheet of plywood, flanked by two broken-down old sofas—one patterned with roses, the other a yellow and brown plaid. There was a battered vinyl card table whose legs had been reinforced with lengths of PVC pipe, surrounded by improvised seats made out of repurposed materials, including a large stump, two old car seats, and more five-gallon buckets.
I found Lucia, Andrew, and Eric sitting around an old wooden door that had been sawed down and balanced atop a fifty-gallon drum, also sawed down. It was surrounded by wooden kitchen chairs, none of which matched and all of them slightly damaged in some way—all the spindles missing from the backrest on one, a leg replaced by a piece of two-by-four on another, the arms snapped off on another. They weren’t pretty, but they were all perfectly serviceable.
“Hey!” Lucia brightened as she caught sight of us.
“Alright.” Eric hopped up, gesturing for me to take his seat. “I’ve got the first round.”
I fought the urge to glance at the clock above the bar. If Eric was buying a round, common courtesy would dictate that the rest of us also buy rounds. Which meant five rounds at a minimum. How long was I going to have to be here? I had to make sure to get the next round so that I could slink off guilt-free when my anxiety finally drove me out of the bar earlier than everyone else.
“Grace! Lucia!” Jessica Taaltsiyh materialized out of the crowd with a smile and wave. Her gaze landed on Harlan, and her smile faltered a bit. “Oh. Harlan. Hi.” She looked around the table. “Eric! Andrew!”
Jessica was another local. She was as tall as I was, at five-ten, if not a little taller. But where I was thin to the point of being skeletal, Jess was as curvy as an Old Hollywood starlet. She had the same silky black hair and tawny skin as the rest of the locals, with a pleasantly heart-shaped face, and large hooded eyes with golden-brown irises. I’d learned from a handful of conversations during breakfast at The Spruce that she had lived in Longtooth most of her life, but she’d spent four years in Fairbanks getting her bachelor’s degree in accounting, then two years in Anchorage getting her masters and becoming a licensed CPA. In Longtooth, she didn’t have any official title, but she seemed to work as the city’s comptroller, overseeing the finances.
Her presence had a calming effect on me. Jess reminded me of Margaret in a lot of ways—ostensibly warm and friendly while managing to project an air of steadiness, watchfulness. The fact that a local had joined our little circle didn’t hurt either—it stopped my brain from categorizing the crowd in the bar as us and them.
Eric reappeared with the necks of several beer bottles clutched between his fingers. “Ah, Jess, I didn’t see you. Can I get you a drink?”
“I’m set.” She held up a bottle. “Thanks though.”
“Alright everybody,” Lucia cut in, motioning for quiet. “Grace is the newest of us outsiders, so—” she hefted her glass “—cheers to Grace! Welcome to Longtooth.”
My tablemates clinked glasses with me and a few people around us cheered. A whistle sounded from somewhere else in the bar, making my ears turn red. “Thanks, guys.”
“It’s been a whole month,” Jess said. “What do you think?” She was smiling at me in that same hopeful way that Margaret and Natasha often did. It kindled a little warm spot in my chest, a beacon against the cold.
“I like Longtooth,” I said honestly. “Everyone’s been good to me, my students are great, and the mountains are almost too beautiful.”
Jess threw an arm around my shoulders and squeezed. “Yay,” she said.
The conversation veered off into a discussion of the Teekkonlit Valley’s natural beauty, and I let myself become a listener, nodding in agreement with everyone else’s pronouncements.
“You have to get outside of town and into the mountains to really appreciate them,” Jess told us. “Snowmobiles are the best. On a night when the sky is clear, it’s unbelievable.”
“Aren’t you worried about animals?” I asked. Even in the comparatively mild wilderness of Wisconsin, walking in the woods at night could be dangerous.
Jess opened her mouth to speak. For a moment she hesitated. Finally, she said, “The sound of the snowmobiles scares them away.” She nudged me with an elbow. “I’ll take you out there one of these days.”
“Yeah, absolutely. That would be cool.” I missed having friends. Even if kindling friendships wasn’t exactly my forte, I liked Jess. She was funny and smart and kind. For whatever reason, she seemed to like me too. And doing something like snowmobiling wouldn’t aggravate my anxieties. Away from enclosed crowds, away from male pursuers, with a specific task to focus on, I could have fun. Unlike the tavern, where—as much as I liked the present company—the surrounding crowd and noise left me fidgety and tense.
As everyone was getting to the bottom of their drinks, I stood up. “I’ve got next round,” I declared, heading for the bar.
Every stool at the bar was filled by locals. I slipped between two sets of broad shoulders and leaned over the bar top to
get the bartender’s attention. The shoulders to my left suddenly swiveled to face me, and I found myself looking up at Caleb Kinoyit.
He scowled at me. “Thought you were too good for the Moose.”
I scowled right back at him. “When did I ever say that?”
“Hey, Grace.” Adam Toonikoh—the bartender and owner of the Blue Moose—stepped up to me. He nodded his head towards Caleb. “This charmer bothering you?”
“Usually. Can I get another round of whatever Eric ordered?” I gestured vaguely at our table.
“Sure thing. Five?”
I glanced back at the table again, checking Jess’s drink. “Yeah. And add one of whatever Jess is having.”
Adam moved down the bar to start filling glasses. Without a specific conversation to focus on, the noise of the bar suddenly rose to the forefront. I glanced over my shoulder at the press of bodies behind me. I couldn’t help searching every face. He’s not here. Stop being weird. I forced myself to turn back to the bar, uncomfortable leaving the crowd at my back, but aware of how weird it would look to methodically scan the faces in the bar. I flicked a glance at the clock above the bar—not even an hour had passed since I’d arrived. Way too soon to duck out. I drummed my fingers on the bartop, ears acutely attuned to the ruckus behind me. My body was tense, waiting for danger, but I affected a posture of casual unconcern. I glanced down the bar, wishing Adam would hurry up with those beers.
After a moment I realized Caleb was still looking at me. His expression was blank, but his gaze was intensely focused. His scrutiny prickled my skin. Feigning unconcern, I raised my eyebrows, meeting his gaze. “Can I help you?”
His brows drew together. “You don’t like crowds,” he said.
What was giving me away? Could he see the way my palms were leaving sweaty marks on my beer bottle? Did he notice how often I looked at the Pabst clock above the bar? Embarrassed at being caught out for my social incompetence, I forced a careless shrug. “They’re not my favorite,” I admitted.
His expression deepened into a frown. “Is that why you—”
“Holy hell!” A pair of big hands descended on Caleb’s shoulders, cutting him off. “Caleb Kinoyit—socializing?”
Caleb twisted back, and his frown faded into an expression of exasperated amusement. “Isaac,” he said dryly. “Does Margaret know you’re in town?”
The other man emerged from behind Caleb, leaving one beefy arm slung around Caleb’s shoulders. He was built like an ox, all stocky brawn. The two of them resembled each other, although Caleb was taller and leaner.
“She knows.” He clapped Caleb reassuringly on the chest. “My exile’s over.” The newcomer’s eyes lit up when they landed on me. “And who is this?”
“Easy, man,” Caleb muttered, putting a staying hand on the man’s chest. He shrugged away from Caleb and pushed forward, crowding into my space. He towered over me until I had to tilt my head back to look him in the eye.
“Hello, sweetheart. Isaac Murray. Who would you be?”
I hated being the recipient of such blatant male interest. It felt like I was guarding my wallet from a pick-pocket, but I wasn’t allowed to yell thief! A frisson of discomfort tugged at my flight-or-fight response, but I quashed it with a well-practiced social smile. “I’m Grace,” I told him. “I’m the new English teacher.”
“Ahhh.” Isaac rubbed thoughtfully at his bearded jaw. “So you’re the pretty little schoolteacher I’ve been hearing about.” He threw a satisfied glance at Caleb, who stared back flatly.
“What have you heard about me?” I started to lift my beer for another drink, then thought better of it. I could just imagine the leer on Isaac’s face if he saw a long bottleneck pressed to my lips.
“All good things,” Isaac assured me, leaning on the bartop in a way that caged me in. I pretended not to notice.
“You must not have heard them from Caleb, then.” I leaned over, as if to look at Caleb, and used the movement to slip out of Isaac’s pin.
“Uh-oh.” Isaac turned a smirk on Caleb. “Sounds like you’re on little Gracie’s shit-list.”
At my height, I hardly qualified as “little.” And the only people in Longtooth who could get away with calling me “Gracie” were Margaret and Natasha.
“Nope,” I corrected Isaac with a tight smile. “I’m on his list.”
Before the conversation could go any further, Adam appeared like a heaven-sent miracle. He placed a tray laden with brown bottles on the bar in front of me. I handed him cash, deposited my nearly-empty bottle, and took the tray. I turned a brittle smile on Caleb and Isaac. “You guys have a nice night.”
Caleb frowned at me. I turned away before either of them could say anything, and slipped through the crowd.
“Who’s the beefcake at the bar?” Lucia asked when I reached the table, a slightly predatory gleam in her eyes.
“That’s my new friend Isaac, and you’re welcome to him,” I told her.
Lucia smiled dryly, looking past me. “Your friend doesn’t look like he’s interested in substitutions.”
“What do you—” I turned to see Isaac parting the crowd like a rolling boulder, his gaze pinned on me. “Ah shit,” I muttered.
“Gracie, you disappeared before I could buy you a drink.” He leaned onto the table, his solid bulk forming a wall between me and the others. “What are you having?”
“I’m calling it a night after this one,” I said, lifting my drink. “But thanks anyway.”
“When I just got here?” He reared back to address the rest of the table. “Tell her she can’t go!”
The others didn’t notice the DO NOT I was telegraphing with my eyes.
“Come on, Grace,” Lucia objected. “Stay!”
“It’s Friday night,” Eric pointed out. “In Longtooth. What else could you possibly have going on?”
“The man makes a solid point,” Jess said, lifting her fresh drink.
I turned pleading eyes on Harlan.
He smiled. “Aw, come on, Grace. Don’t make us shut the party down early.”
I sighed. “Alright. One more round.”
“Two,” Isaac pressed.
“Two!” the others roared.
I threw my hands up. “Fine!”
The table cheered. I tried to look amused, but that old panicky dread was creeping in. You’re fine, I told myself, taking a breath. You’re safe. It’s only for a few hours. You’ll be fine.
I managed to hold it together. Two more rounds helped dampen the panic and annoyance, to the point that I actually found myself laughing at Isaac’s obnoxious passes, fending him off with increasingly blunt rejections.
“I see you looking at my beard, Gracie. Go on, give it a feel.”
“I was only trying to figure out if you’re part-bear.” The fact was, I was looking at his beard. Isaac wasn’t unattractive. It was his pushiness that put me off. But I liked the way his smile looked against the black scruff of his beard and the warmth of his swarthy skin. It was how Caleb looked, on the rare occasion that he smiled. Except Caleb’s face was leaner. His smiles were a little sharp, a little feral.
Isaac’s grin stretched wider. He caught my wrist and brought my hand to his cheek. His beard rasped against my palm. “Can’t keep looking at me like that, Gracie. Gives a man ideas.”
If I was looking like anything, it was because the image of Caleb smiling—even just in my imagination—sent an alarming spark of heat straight through me. I pulled my hand away from Isaac’s grasp. He held on for a second—just long enough to show me that I couldn’t get away if he didn’t want me to. When he finally released me, I jerked back, all humor gone. The mild beer buzz vanished with a bolt of fear.
You’re safe. You’re fine. There are too many people around. Nothing will happen. But reminding myself of the crowd had the opposite effect—the panic rose again. Suddenly, I was aware of every noise, every voice. The sound of a dozen other conversations buzzed in my ears like a swarm of bees. The sound of laughter was a ra
ucous jeer. The bodies all around me seemed to press in. Their heat surrounded me, a feverish contrast to the bitter cold beneath my skin. Sweat prickled over my chest and back.
I drew in a jagged breath. “I have to use the bathroom.” I backed away from Isaac and slipped through the crowd, weaving my way towards the narrow hall at the back of the bar.
At the end of the hall, there was a single, unisex bathroom. I locked myself inside and slumped against the door. The wood was mercifully cool, and the heaviness of the door muffled the sounds of the bar. I drew in long, steady breaths for a while, concentrating on the in and out of air until my hands stopped shaking. Feeling steadier, I pushed away from the door and went to the sink. Wetting paper towels, I reached under my sweater and swiped away the tacky feeling of dried sweat on my chest and back.
When I emerged from the bathroom, Isaac was waiting just outside the door, blocking my way. I glanced down the dim hall towards the light and noise of the bar. Everyone else was only ten feet away, but it felt like a mile.
“Oh, hey,” I said, hiding my discomfort. “Bathroom’s all yours.” I went to move past him, but he caught my arm and spun me back. It was a surprisingly graceful move that ended up with my back pressed against the wall and Isaac’s big body looming over mine. He put his hands against the wall on either side of my shoulders, his massive arms caging me in place.
“We’ve been dancing around each other all night,” Isaac murmured, leaning in close. “And my feet are getting tired.”
“Yeah, sorry, but that’s not what’s happening here.” I tried not to let my panic show.
“Then why are you trembling, Gracie?” He pulled one hand away from the wall—not the side I needed for escape—and ran his knuckles softly over my cheek. “Damn, you’re freezing. I bet I can warm you up.”
“Isaac, wait—”
His mouth came down on mine, silencing me. I turned my head and shoved at his shoulders, but he was an immovable wall. His lips moved down my jaw, my neck, leaving a clammy trail in their wake.
“Listen, Isaac—” I twisted away from him, but was still trapped between his arms. “Stop. I don’t—”
Cold Hearted: An Alaskan Werewolf Romance Page 5
