Selena left the bar and headed toward the restrooms and Leslie pretended to be keeping an eye on her and not listening to Levi’s call. But she was desperate to know what they were talking about. She leaned closer and caught herself as she slid off the bar stool.
Levi glanced her way and she quickly retrieved her new cell phone and busied herself with it.
“Yeah, just send over the documents and I’ll sign them and scan them back to you in the morning,” he was saying.
Documents? What was going on? She hadn’t spoken to Dawson’s mother since the funeral. She’d left town shortly after and there was never a good time to reach out from LA. She’d had so much to deal with, so many life transitions that she’d easily found an excuse not to. They’d never gotten along anyway and now that they weren’t going to be forced family anymore, staying in contact had seemed pointless and unnecessary.
Mrs. Powell had obviously felt the same.
Leslie hadn’t been bothered by the shutting out until now. She couldn’t help but feel jealous of the relationship that Levi had with the people who were supposed to have become Leslie’s family. The Powells had always loved and accepted Levi, treating him like a second son and he’d always tried his best to connect them all, to no avail.
“Great. Thank you... Take care,” Levi said, disconnecting the call. He tucked the phone into his pocket and picked up his beer glass. Empty beer glass. He brought it to his lips anyway and drained the remaining drops. Then he scanned the bar. Looking everywhere but at her.
“Are you really going to make me ask what that was about?”
He shrugged. “You don’t have to.”
Was he serious? “Levi...”
He sighed, leaning forward on the bar. His forearm muscles flexed and momentarily caught her attention, until he spoke... “She’s setting up a charity in Dawson’s name, that’s all.”
“What kind of charity?” Sure, she was no longer going to be Mrs. Dawson Powell, but it hurt that Levi knew about the family’s plans and she didn’t. No one had reached out to her about it. What would she have done if they had? Would she have wanted to be involved? Would she have answered a call if she’d seen Mrs. Powell’s number lighting up her cell? And what would her involvement have required? For her to stay locked in the past, reliving the hurt, constantly remembering a better time in her life and having to recount the tragedy over and over to strangers... Probably for the best that she hadn’t been contacted.
“She wants to start a foundation in support of mental health. I guess it’s their way of showing forgiveness and honoring Dawson’s memory at the same time,” he said.
The edge in his voice rang loud and clear. They all thought she wasn’t honoring him. Leaving town right after the funeral, never returning to Wild River unless absolutely necessary and leaving them all behind. Just running from the memories. Well, they were damn right about that. Who wanted to remember when remembering made it difficult to breathe?
“That’s nice of them,” she said tightly. She hesitated. It was none of her business. But she was curious against her better judgment. “And you’re involved?”
He nodded, not looking overly pleased about it. Or maybe he just didn’t want to discuss it with her. “She wants me to help with the fundraising events...be sort of the spokesperson, the face of the foundation, I guess.”
Her eyes widened. Levi? A spokesperson? “You hate public speaking.”
“That’s correct.”
“And you get awkward in big crowds and formal events.”
“Yep.”
“And yet you agreed to do it?”
He turned on the bar stool and stared straight into her eyes. “What choice do I have, Les?”
The sound of her nickname made her heart race. He was the only person who called her that. She’d beat the crap out of anyone else who tried. But she’d always let him get away with it.
And now, the sound of it had her heart racing in an unfamiliar way. Or maybe it was the way he said it—the tone in his voice that held traces of longing and regret.
She simply stared back, not sure how to answer. He was right. He really couldn’t refuse to help after everything the Powells had done for him over the years and how close he and Dawson had been. The fact that he was stepping out of his comfort zone for the family said a lot about his character. Same old Levi.
Selena rejoined them. “The restroom was surprisingly clean,” she said.
Neither Leslie nor Levi answered her.
“What are we talking about?” She looked back and forth between them. “Did I hear you say something about fundraising?” she asked Levi.
“Yeah,” he said reluctantly, breaking his gaze with Leslie. “I’m just helping a friend’s family with a charity organization in his name.”
Selena looked like she was in love.
Oh come on...
“I can help,” she said. “I run several charities back in LA.”
“I’m sure Levi has it covered,” Leslie said quickly.
Levi shook his head. “Actually, I have no idea what I’m doing.”
Selena looked ready to pull out a day planner and start organizing. She really must be bored out of her mind. Leslie had witnessed the woman’s schedule and it had been intense. She knew what the star was giving up, the risk to her career this impromptu hiatus from her life might cost her, but Leslie couldn’t focus on all of that. None of that would matter if the star was dead, and her stalker had made his intentions very clear.
But if helping Levi could give her something to do, something to take her mind off things and keep her from harassing the shit out of Leslie, Leslie would keep her own feelings about it to herself.
“Well, I have experience with all aspects of fundraising, from the permits to executing events that people want to attend and will open their wallets for,” Selena was telling Levi.
Levi hesitated, but then when he glanced at Leslie and she didn’t oppose, he nodded. “Thanks. If you’re in town for a while, I may take you up on that.”
“Well, for the first time since arriving, I hope we stick around for a while.” The two clinked their empty glasses, then signaled Tank for another round.
Fantastic. Her former best friend and the women she was hiding from the world were joining forces to plan charitable events in her ex-fiancé’s memory and no one wanted her involved.
On the clock or not, Leslie deserved a drink.
* * *
LEVI WASN’T AN expert on women. Not by a long shot. But he knew two things. Selena was flirting with him and Leslie didn’t like it.
Unfortunately, he was smart enough not to allow himself the thought that it could be jealousy. She’d been annoyed with him and by him since he’d rescued her ass in the forest.
He wasn’t looking for a thank-you...or maybe he was. Maybe a “thanks, Levi, for not leaving me to freeze to death in the wilderness in only a towel, and by the way, great to see you...” might be exactly what he was looking for from her. Or hoping for, at least.
He’d stayed in Wild River to see her. He’d thought the shock of the fire and the circumstances surrounding her “visit” had made her more prickly earlier that day, understandably. But her mood hadn’t changed, even after the scotch on the rocks she’d drunk in record time. She’d changed into a pair of leggings and an oversized sweatshirt with a picture of a moose on it and it was so typically Leslie that it made him smile on the inside, knowing that somewhere deep inside, she was the same woman who lived for comfort clothes and looked hot as hell in them. Admittedly, that part was mildly inconvenient—the attraction he’d always had for her hadn’t faded in the least.
Selena was a chatterbox, thank God, otherwise the silence would have been too much to endure and he’d have left moments after arriving. Unfortunately, he’d barely been paying attention to anything the young Hollywood star had been saying.
“So, what kind of fundraiser were you planning?” she asked him now.
Damn, he’d hoped to avoid the conversation about this again that evening. Leslie’s expression when he’d told her had hardly been the veiled one she’d been going for. She’d been hurt and he could understand that, but what had she expected? She’d disappeared just weeks after the funeral and he knew if she hadn’t wanted to keep in touch with him, she certainly wasn’t keeping in touch with Mrs. Powell.
She’d wanted to get away from everything and everyone.
“Um... I think it’s a dinner,” he said. “At the Wild River Resort here in town.”
Selena looked unimpressed. “Dinners are okay, but you’ll need more than food to draw a crowd at a hundred dollars a plate.”
“A hundred dollars a plate?” The resort restaurant was expensive, but Selena was right. Even the richest people in Wild River would want more than just a well-cooked steak for that ticket price.
“Have you thought of a silent auction? Or fashion show? Or bachelor auction?” She smiled up at him under long dark lashes. She was absolutely stunning, like most models and actresses, and he wished just once some other woman could catch his eye, make his body react the way it did when he saw Leslie. “I’m sure you could bring in a decent penny,” she said.
“Oh my God...” he heard Leslie mutter.
His neck grew red and he cleared his throat. Yes, he knew she’d disagree on that point. She wouldn’t open up her wallet for a date with him. That had always been painfully obvious. As much as he’d only ever had eyes for her, she’d only had eyes for Dawson.
And Selena’s flirting was making him uncomfortable now. He had at least ten years on the woman and she wasn’t really his type, even if his heart was available. It was true that he could use help with the fundraiser to offer some sort of knowledge and support to Mrs. Powell, but he didn’t want to encourage anything else. He checked his watch. Might be time to call it a night.
Leslie’s cell phone rang and she answered on the first ring. That was surprising. He’d figured she’d be keeping a low profile.
“Hi, Eoghan...” he heard her say.
Eoghan? Boyfriend? Had she moved on with her life in LA? Maybe that was the reason she hadn’t wanted to keep in touch.
“Not great. Please tell me they caught the guy,” she said, resting her elbow on the bar and her forehead in her hand.
Wow, she really wanted to get out of here.
Selena turned her attention to the call as well.
“Not yet.” Leslie glanced at Selena. “She’s fine.”
“That’s debatable,” Selena said. “Though I am much better now.” She placed a hand on his arm again and Leslie caught the gesture and stood abruptly, letting the bar stool topple on its legs as she walked toward the pool tables in the back.
Shit. He was only making things worse for her. She was stressed enough and now he was allowing this flirting with Selena to irritate her further.
“Don’t worry. It’s just Eoghan,” Selena said, wrinkling her nose as though getting a whiff of something gross.
He couldn’t help it. He needed to know. “Who’s Eoghan?” He took a chug of beer.
“Another agent at the agency. Leslie’s boning him, I think.”
Levi coughed on his beer. “She’s—” he refused to say boning “—dating someone in LA?”
“I wouldn’t say dating. That would require clothing and an ability to connect with other human beings...”
Well, she had Leslie pegged on the emotional distancing part anyway. Or at least the persona that Leslie was trying to give off. Levi knew she had an impressive ability to hide what she was actually feeling. But it was often an unsuccessful attempt with him. He knew her every tell from the confrontational stance she took as a self-defense mechanism to the restlessness she’d been exhibiting at the bar—tapping her fingers, looking around, sighing as quietly as possible. She was struggling to keep it in check.
“I think they are mostly just sleeping together,” Selena said and shuddered.
“You don’t like him?”
“Not particularly. He’s Australian, so naturally I found the accent hot at first, but every time I’m around him, I get a douchey vibe.”
Weird that Leslie wouldn’t get a similar vibe if the guy was a jerk. Her radar for assholes was usually strong. “What’s he like?”
“Tall, muscular... I mean, not Tank muscular.”
“No one is Tank muscular.” The bar owner was an anomaly.
“He has dark blond hair that’s slightly longer, wears a man bun...”
“Okay, I see where the douchey vibe comes from,” he said. Man bun? Really, Leslie? Seems she’d strayed as far from the Dawson type—clean-cut, tall, dark and handsome—as she could. “But is he a good agent? Can she trust him?” That’s what mattered most right now.
Selena frowned. “I’m not sure. But I trust her and if she says he’s good, I guess he’s good.”
Unfortunately, Leslie didn’t look good when she returned to the bar moments later. If possible, she looked even more stressed.
It killed him to see her this way. Levi wanted to hug her, hold her, force her to confide in him, let him help...or at least be a sounding board.
He didn’t like that she was confiding in this Eoghan guy.
“We should call it a night,” she told Selena, reaching for her jacket.
“Already?” Selena said.
But Levi was ready to go too. Obviously, his former best friend had no interest in reconnecting and the longer he was around her, the more he’d get caught up in her drama that she didn’t want him a part of and which would just eat away at his sanity. “I should go too.”
“You’re staying at the resort too, right?” Selena said, suddenly good to go.
“Yes...”
“You are?” Leslie looked confused.
“Everything else was booked,” he said.
“Right. The famous author in town.”
Selena beamed up at him as he stood. “So, we’re all headed the same way.”
Wow, Selena was as subtle as a wrecking ball. “We are. I’ll give you both a ride?”
“We’d love one,” Selena said.
“Sure,” Leslie said, as though she’d rather be accepting a ride from Selena’s stalker, then hurriedly led the way out of the bar.
Selena linked her arm through his as they followed and Levi got an odd nostalgia-like feeling of another love triangle. But once again, he was not on the right side of it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE BED WAS turned down when they got back to the room and Selena collapsed backward onto it as soon as she’d kicked off her boots and removed her ski suit. “I call dibs on the bed.”
Leslie sighed. “It’s a king. Neither of us are huge. I think we can share.” She rubbed her forehead, the stress of the last twenty-four hours accumulating in a vein in the front of her head. Eoghan’s update hadn’t been promising. Still no leads and the police hadn’t been able to get any prints or DNA from Selena’s bedroom. The stalker was smart...which made him even more dangerous.
“Why didn’t you get a room with two beds?” Selena asked.
“This was all they had available.”
She opened their shopping bags and hung the items in the closet.
Damn... Levi’s jacket. She hadn’t been sure how or when she’d have an opportunity to return it, but now he was just on the floor above them... Room 406. After turning down Selena’s suggestion to grab another drink in the lobby bar, they’d parted ways, but not before he’d let them know which room he was in, in case they needed anything.
They wouldn’t.
But she should return the jacket now and get it over with. She didn’t want to have to see him again. That evening had been enough time.
Enough ti
me for her to feel the pain of the past creeping in again. Enough time to recognize that a lot of life had happened in the last few years and enough time to realize she missed him. Which was the last thing she needed right now. Listening to him chat with Selena—it had been torture not to just let her guard down and try to enjoy the evening with him, take a much-needed break from the stress and laugh with him, talk to him, reconnect with him.
But if she had, walking away again once all of this was over would be hard. She’d be opening herself up to having to start over with the distancing she’d achieved. Distancing that was necessary to keep moving forward.
“I’ll be back in forty seconds. I just need to return...” She stopped, noticing Selena out cold on the bed. Mouth agape, a soft, low snoring came from her. Hopefully, she was out for the night. Unfortunately, she was sprawled across the center of the bed, so Leslie would be sleeping in the armchair.
She quietly grabbed the room key and the jacket and slipped out of the room. A too-short elevator ride later, she knocked on Levi’s door.
His expression was a mix of concern and happiness to see her. Better make this quick. Without Selena there as a buffer, this could go off the rails fast. She held up the jacket. “Thanks again.” He took it and she turned to leave. “Night.”
“Leslie!”
Could she pretend not to have heard him? How rude would it be to just ignore him? Too many years of friendship prevented her from being an asshole, especially when he had helped them that day. Reluctantly, she turned around. “Yeah?”
“I’m sorry if I did or said something wrong,” he said, leaning against the open hotel room door frame.
She shrugged. “You didn’t. In fact, I think you’ve got yourself your own stalker.” Joke. Be sarcastic. Anything but show real emotion. Wow, maybe she really was a Chandler.
“Leslie, you can stop,” he said.
She should have ignored him. This was too dangerous. Being alone with him. The two of them sharing the tragic bond of losing someone they cared about. Having so much history between them. “Stop what?”
Stars Over Alaska Page 8
