by Addison Fox
“Maggie must be dying to know the details.”
Mick nodded, the smile moving into a full-on grin. “Pretty much. I’m hard-pressed to complain since it’s taken her attention firmly off the grandmothers’ competition.”
As if on cue, Sophie’s comments to the assembly shifted into a series of instructions for the coming days.
Walker let out a light groan. “Every time I think they’re going to give this damn game up, they ratchet up the stakes. Do you know my grandmother actually tried pitching this to the morning shows?”
“Tried?”
“Editorial killed it at the last minute.”
“You know why?”
Walker thought about the discreet phone calls he made to a few old friends from college. “Let’s just say I still know a few people and know how to pull a few strings.”
“Fuck me,” Mick whispered. “That fancy Ivy League education of yours is clearly good for something.”
Walker settled back in his chair, his gaze unwillingly drawn again to Grier’s friend. “Damn straight. I may choose to live in the wilderness, but I’ve made sure my contacts extend far beyond here.”
“I really don’t know what’s gotten into you.” Grier’s heavy whisper floated over Sloan as she resettled herself on a hard metal folding chair. She’d already introduced herself to five older couples and three teenage boys dressed in full hockey gear who’d seemed impressed with the attention.
“You text me four days ago with a desperate SOS message to come help you. That’s what I’m doing. Helping you.”
“You call this help?” Grier managed to maintain a whisper, but her darting eyes had the slightly glazed look of a pixie on a wine bender.
Good.
It was about damn time Grier had someone to share the burden with.
“Seriously, Sloan. Attending the town meeting of an entire city full of people who’d like nothing more than to see the back of me as I walk out of here? Oh yeah. This is a great idea.”
“You’re showing your interest in the community and its well-being and you’re meeting some people in the process. How could that be a bad thing? Besides, it’s all Kate’s fault you’re in this mess.”
“Actually”—Grier waved her hand—“it’s technically my absentee father’s fault.”
“True. But putting that aside, everyone seems quite lovely. Chooch and Hooch are absolutely darling, and I love the fact they’re celebrating their fiftieth anniversary. Could you imagine?”
Grier nodded, a small smile breaking through the mask of anxiety that tightened her bow-shaped mouth. “It is pretty amazing.”
“Besides.” Sloan took a surreptitious glance around the rapidly settling room. “We need to make the town realize that you’re the sister they need to side with. I think this is a damn good place to start.”
The more Sloan thought about it, the more she had warmed up to the idea. Grier wasn’t the problem. Her rotten sister was. Speaking of which . . .
Where was this sainted martyr who the whole town had sided with?
Reaching back to fiddle with her coat, discreetly rearranging it on her chair, Sloan allowed her gaze to roam the room with a bit more focus. She started with the back, having already realized the majority of the chairs in front of her were taken by the town’s old-timers.
Although she saw several younger townsfolk, no one face stood out as a likely sibling. There wasn’t one single woman who resembled Grier. And now that she was taking a closer look, Sloan realized no one was even looking their direction. Surely, if Kate were here, she’d be staring daggers at Grier by now.
Sloan continued her quick perusal, knowing she was close to blowing her cover. There was only so long a person could reasonably take to hang their coat behind them, even if you did fiddle with your purse straps around the thick material. She was about to turn back toward the front when her gaze hit a freaking brick wall of masculinity.
The two men sat side by side, their shoulders so broad they’d pushed their chairs apart to accommodate their size. Her gaze roamed over the first, a long, rangy sort with a few days’ worth of scruff.
Hot. Definitely.
Her type? Not so much.
Even if he had been her type, Sloan acknowledged a moment later, it wouldn’t have mattered once her eyes met those of the large man sitting next to him.
A heavy navy blue sweater framed his broad shoulders and zipped up into a collar that set off his thick throat and hard-planed jaw. A firm nose filled his face—just the wrong side of too large—but oddly, it kept his face from veering into pretty-boy territory.
Oh no, this one screamed one hundred percent male, and there was nothing pretty about him.
There was something magnetic.
Compelling.
Sexual.
But pretty? Not a chance.
Sloan swallowed around the lump in her throat and determined to turn herself back around. She’d nearly dragged her gaze away when those molten chocolate eyes of his darkened in interest, his eyebrows winging up.
She felt the answering tug at the corner of her lips, had nearly offered up a large smile when Grier tugged so hard on her arm Sloan was practically thrown sideways.
“What is it?”
Grier’s hand tightened on hers, her wide-eyed gaze focused firmly on the doorway. A small, petite brunette a few inches taller than Grier walked in the door.
Even if she hadn’t known her best friend for over fifteen years, Sloan would have had no problem pegging the woman who stood in the doorway as her sister. They even walked the same way—head held high as they took a quick look at their surroundings.
They were perky, even though Grier hated the word with a passion.
The entire room erupted in a chorus of whispered murmurs. Grier’s arch nemesis—and little sister—had just arrived for the town hall.
For all his grandmother’s talk about his “advanced age of thirty-six,” Walker Royce Montgomery had never actually witnessed a catfight. Based on the tension that had suddenly gripped the room, he suspected the possibility had just gone up considerably that he’d see one before the evening was out.
“I’ll lay you odds this isn’t going to go very well,” Mick intoned in Walker’s ear as Sophie’s voice continued to drone on from the podium at the front of the room.
“You know I don’t take sucker bets.”
Walker watched as Kate Winston navigated the room, cherry-picking a seat two rows in front of where her sister sat. The resemblance between the two women was uncanny and, although he was as interested in the drama unfolding as the rest of the room, he couldn’t quite tear his gaze away from Grier’s friend.
The long blond hair had made him instantly think of a fun-loving beach girl. But it was the hard set of her jaw as Kate took a seat two rows in front of Grier that suggested something else.
A warrior.
An avenging goddess.
Shit, when had he gotten so fucking fanciful? He gave himself a mental slap. She was ready to defend her friend, pure and simple.
His grandmother’s voice rose in pitch as she realized her audience’s attention was waning. “We’ll begin welcoming all the new bachelorettes next Thursday evening.”
“Sophie, one of them’s already arrived,” Chooch McGilvray interrupted from the front. “Hooch and I just met Sloan over there.”
Sloan.
Walker rolled it around in his mind, marrying her name to the image of the avenging goddess, and found he liked it.
A lot.
What his grandmother lacked in subtlety, she made up for in good manners and a smooth ability to set anyone at ease. With a broad smile, she gestured their new arrival forward. “Sloan, then. Please come on up here.”
A light pink blush crept up Sloan’s face, but she stood and moved through the room toward the podium. Walker only felt a brief moment of guilt while watching the sexy glide of her hips as she walked toward the podium in jeans that molded to her firm ass.
“W
hat’s your grandmother up to?” Mick’s voice nudged him out of his daze.
Walker reluctantly dragged his eyes away from the luscious view and turned toward his friend. “I suspect she’s about to make the entire town feel bad about itself.”
“What?”
Walker nodded toward the podium. “Just watch.”
“Welcome to Indigo, dear. Please tell the folks a bit about yourself.”
The flush crept higher, turning Sloan’s cheeks a warm pink that only made her glow under the bright lights that spotlighted the front of the room where the town council sat in a row behind the podium. “Hello, everyone. My name is Sloan McKinley.”
“And what brings such a lovely young woman like yourself to Indigo?”
“I’m here visiting my best friend, ma’am.”
Ma’am.
Walker knew his grandmother’s old-fashioned notions about respect and courtesy just shot to attention at that one.
“You mean you’re not here to compete in next week’s games?”
“Oh no, ma’am. I’m here to visit Grier.”
Walker groaned inwardly as the look descended over his grandmother’s face. He’d spent his entire adult life in receipt of it, that look that said Sophie Montgomery knew far better and was about to poke her nose in exactly where it did not belong. “Perhaps Mary, Julia and I can change your mind.”
At that suggestion, a loud chorus of wolf whistles went up from the various bachelors scattered throughout the room.
His tolerance for his grandmother’s antics evaporated at the obvious interest in Sloan displayed by the bachelors of Indigo. His gaze shifted to her and the small, confused smile riding her features didn’t quite say uncomfortable, but it didn’t exactly broadcast pleasure at the sudden show of testosterone-laden appreciation.
Nothing could have prepared Walker, though, for what came next.
Sloan McKinley smoothed her hands over her sweater, planted a large smile on her face and turned sweetly toward his grandmother. “I’m not easily convinced, but you’re welcome to try.”
His grandmother let out a great whoop of laughter and pointed toward the audience. “It looks like you’re going to give the bachelors of our fair town a run for their money, whether you compete or not.”
“Thank you for the warm welcome, Mayor Montgomery. To show my appreciation, I’d love to get to know everyone. I’m staying over at the Indigo Blue with Grier and we’d love it if you all came on over and joined us in the lobby for a few drinks.”
Another loud round of whistles went up and Walker could only imagine the line that was going to form around Sloan McKinley.
With a sideways glance at Mick, he folded his arms across his chest. “Looks like we’re headed over to the Indigo Blue for a drink.”
Mick’s eyes never left the back of Grier’s head. “Bring it on, buddy.”
Sloan wasn’t sure what had possessed her to invite the entire population of Indigo, Alaska, to join her for a drink, but she never regretted acting on impulse and wasn’t going to start now.
She’d already been introduced to about twenty more people as she’d made her way back across the room from the podium to gather her coat. Sophie had clearly seen drinks as a fitting end to the meeting and had struck her gavel before Sloan had even left the stage.
“What are you thinking?” Grier whispered as she kept a smile firmly planted on her face.
“It just came out. Let’s call it good instincts.”
“But the entire town, Sloan?”
“You wanted to meet people. This is a good way to tell them your side of the story. Besides, people get a hell of a lot nicer once they’ve had a few drinks in them.”
Sloan didn’t miss Grier’s frown as she bent down to retrieve her purse from underneath her seat. She also didn’t miss the conversation that drifted in their direction from several rows away.
“Like buying us off’s going to help.”
“Her friend sure seems to think so.”
The first voice piped up again. “She’s awfully persistent. You’d think she’d realize by now we don’t want her here. The poor little orphan who thinks she’s entitled to something that’s not hers. Her father clearly could not have cared less about her. First anyone heard of her was the reading of the will.”
Sloan’s back stiffened as the words floated toward her. Although the speakers weren’t quiet, the women weren’t broadcasting their conversation either and Sloan suspected they were unaware their comments had been overheard.
But she had heard. And if Grier’s frozen position as she leaned down for her purse was any indication, she’d heard, too.
Sloan couldn’t stop the wave of nausea that filled her as she immediately found herself back in her parents’ kitchen on Thanksgiving.
Those low tones, dripping with false sympathy, smacked far too closely of Betsy and Mary Jo. The dulcet cadence of their words suggested the object of their comments should be scraped off the bottom of a shoe. A warm flush crept across her face and, unlike the slight embarrassment on the stage of the town hall, this had a distinctly different feeling.
Like she was ready to do battle.
Kate Winston came up behind the two women, rapidly shrugging into her padded winter coat. Her voice was stern, but her eyes were focused on Grier. “Come on, Trina, Sherry. Let’s get out of here.”
Unwilling to leave the subject alone, Sloan turned toward the trio of women. The panic that had immobilized her in her parents’ kitchen, making her unable to defend herself to her mother’s friends, fled as her concern for Grier took over. “You sure? It sounds like you’ve all got something to say. There’s no time like the present.”
Grier stood up, purse in hand, and reached for Sloan’s arm. Ignoring the tight grip that suggested she shut the hell up, Sloan kept her gaze level with Kate as she tried to avert her eyes.
“She’s not welcome here,” one of the women added.
Before Sloan could answer, Kate grabbed the redhead’s arm in a gesture surprisingly similar to Grier’s. “We’re leaving, Trina.”
“But you were just—”
“Leaving. Come on. Now.”
The pack of women who’d surrounded Kate Winston when she’d sat down followed her out of the room. None but the redhead, Trina, spared them a backward glance.
Was this really what Grier was dealing with up here? “What the fuck is wrong with them?”
Grier dashed at the corners of her eyes. “I don’t know and I really don’t want to talk about it.”
“But, Grier. This is ridiculous. You didn’t write your father’s will. Hell, you didn’t even know the man existed.”
“She did.”
Sloan caught the misery in Grier’s tone. “She did what?”
“She did know my father. Because he was her father. Each and every day of her damn life.”
“But—” Before she could finish the thought, the large man with the three-day scruff of beard walked up to them. Sloan didn’t miss the concern he focused on Grier as his gaze searched her face.
“Everything okay?”
The stiffening of Grier’s spine was the only indication she was rattled, but her tone was calm and cool as she turned toward the man. “Everything’s fine.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
With that, Grier slammed her purse over her arm and marched determinedly toward the door.
The gesture was so out of character for her friend that Sloan didn’t know what to do except follow Grier’s retreating form. She tossed a small, apologetic glance toward the guy as she wended her way out of their row of chairs.
As she turned to offer him one last contrite smile, his friend walked up behind him.
The breath caught in her throat as her gaze once again locked with his. Heat suffused her, even as the harsh winds of early December wrapped around her body from the open door.
With one last glance, Sloan turned her attention to Grier. And wished like hell the big guy
with the shoulders would choose to spend his evening in the lobby of the Indigo Blue.
Chapter Four
Firmly pushing aside the unpleasant moments churned up by Kate’s bitchy friends, Sloan went into full-on hostess mode the moment she and Grier returned to the Indigo Blue. She’d play the room, introducing herself to everyone and flashing them her biggest, warmest smile. The one that said Sloan McKinley was both full of girlish charm as well as a damn good time.
Ha.
Fuck Trevor Stuart Kincaid the Fourth and the rest of the Scarsdale assholes who thought she was over the hill and a blight on their little high society.
“Do you really think this will work?”
Sloan stood at the bar next to Grier, surveying the townspeople as they filled up the lobby of the Indigo Blue. “Of course it will.”
“But you invited the entire town back to the bar to drink for free on your tab.”
“Only the ones who were at the town hall.”
“Yeah, but I’m sure they called their friends who weren’t there to come on down.”
Sloan shrugged, unwilling to be deterred. She had a freaking trust fund, for God’s sake. It was about damn time she put some of it to good use. “We’re mixing with the locals.”
“It is sort of like Kate’s friend said. You’re bribing them.”
“Grier! I am not.”
“You are, too. And it’s not very . . .” Grier’s voice dropped off as the two large men from the town hall came through the lobby doors.
“Friends of yours?” Sloan couldn’t keep the interest out of her voice. She was still surprised Grier had been so cold and unfriendly to them, but she couldn’t hide the burst of pleasure that the two men had come to the hotel anyway.
“Not exactly.”
“Who are they?”
“Two of the three town grandsons.”
Sloan ran through Avery’s comments from earlier over wine. “They’re the grandsons?”
“In the flesh.” Avery came up to them from the other side of the bar.
“And the competition’s for them?” Grier asked, her gaze never leaving the men.
“Well, let’s make no mistake about it,” Avery added drily. “The competition’s for their grandmothers, who have visions of great-grandbabies. But yes, they’re the reason why it’s held each year.”
