Her job. Something she’d worked hard to earn. Something she was good at.
Vega women weren’t weak. Her great-grandmother, legend had it, outlived hurricanes, mudslides and three husbands before she passed at 101. Lizzie’s grandmother raised five boys on her own and worked three jobs to support her family, and still had time to embroider all the church choir and ceremonial robes. Lizzie’s mother had been no different. Her father’s heart attack had forced her mother into the workplace, working nights, holidays and weekends, yet she had never missed a single one of Lizzie’s school functions.
But, no, not Lizzie. One tiny, little, scary thing happens and she falls apart.
She slammed the empty creamer cup onto the small table, knocking the cup of sugar packets onto the floor and bringing her instantly back to the present.
The present, where Hayden Mitchell stood, arms crossed, watching her.
Perfect. Just perfect. “I’m fine.” She knelt, scooping the packets back into the cup and setting it, carefully, back in its place. “Just fine.” Don’t look at him. Don’t do it. She looked.
He nodded. Once. Studying her. No expression. Nothing.
She had no right to feel defensive but she couldn’t help it. There was no doubt what he was doing. He was making judgments. Noting unusual behaviors. I have plenty of those. Still, getting defensive wasn’t going to help. “It was a long drive.”
Another nod.
The bubbling hiss of the coffeepot filled the strained silence between them. And ratcheted up her mounting agitation.
It was easier to stare at the coffee, slowly filling up the white ceramic cup. The dark fluid kept going, rising higher and higher—not stopping. The higher the coffee got, the harder it was to breathe. She hadn’t found a focal point, she was too rattled. In that instant she was back there, in the dark, water rushing in on her as she tried to find a foothold in the muck with the sludge sucking her shoes from her feet.
“Dr. Vega?” A voice penetrated the fog in her brain.
The coffee kept going, nearing the top of the cup. Darker and thicker and inescapable.
“Elizabeth?” Stronger then.
Still, she couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. The coffee slowly stopped, the last few drops shaking the smooth surface and causing ripples.
Why couldn’t she move?
Something wet pushed against her hand, causing her to jerk away—and snapping her back to reality. Charley, tail wagging and tongue lolling, stood at her side.
“Good boy.” Hayden Mitchell’s voice was soft and low.
Words clogged her throat. Should she apologize? Explain? And what explanation could she possibly have for being terrified of a cup of coffee? Or why she was shaking so badly she could barely stay upright.
“You should sit.” There was no judgment, just concern.
“I’m fine.” Her words were automatic. Defensive. And an obvious lie.
His sigh grabbed her attention. “Ma’am, I respectfully disagree. Please, sit down—before you fall down.”
She almost argued. Almost. But she was shaking so much that her only option was to take the very solid, very warm arm he offered and hope he didn’t immediately pack her back into her car and send her home, dogless, for such odd behavior. But she couldn’t leave. She couldn’t. Try, Lizzie. She drew in a deep breath. I can do this.
But if her viselike grip on his arm hadn’t drawn suspicion, the fact that she’d pressed her face against the hard ball of his shoulder surely would. Here she was, groping a complete stranger, all but guaranteeing she wouldn’t be leaving with a dog—or her dignity—intact.
Copyright © 2021 by Sasha Best
ISBN-13: 9781488078217
Stars Over Alaska
Copyright © 2021 by Jennifer Snow
A Wild River Match
First published in February 2021.
This edition published in April 2021.
Copyright © 2021 by Jennifer Snow
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Stars Over Alaska Page 34
