An Alaskan Wedding

Boone made the mistake of glancing around the café as his mind raced with things to say to Grace. A few men in town were openly glaring at him, clearly upset that he was spending time with one of the new arrivals in town. Ha! Some of them had no business even trying to talk to Grace. Hugo had been married and divorced three times over while Dean scared off most women once they realized he reeked of his bison farm. Ricky Stanton was staring at Grace with a forlorn expression etched on his face, a clump of droopy flowers clutched in his hand. Deciding to flex his muscles a little bit, Boone edged a little closer to Grace. Declan gave him a thumbs-up sign from his seat at the counter.

“I really admire Jasper’s gusto,” Grace said. “He seems like the sort of person who lives his life with conviction.” There was a wistful tone in her voice that made him curious about who Grace Corbett was as a person. Was she living life to the fullest? Or just existing? Had her heart led her all the way to Love? Or was she looking to shake things up in her world?

“You’re right about Jasper. He lives life to the fullest in a no-holds-barred kind of way. He’s had a few health scares recently, so I wish he would settle down some, but he’s pretty ornery. Please don’t take his comments about the legend to heart. This town is his whole life, and he’d believe in almost anything that might help us out of this financial setback. Hope is a wonderful thing, but banking on centuries-old treasure is kind of pie in the sky.”

Grace jutted out her chin. “I think it’s wonderful that he believes in something, especially after all he’s been through.”

Boone frowned. “So you read the article? And what he said about losing my grandmother?”

She nodded, her eyes radiating compassion. “Yes, I did. It was one of the most moving things I’ve ever read. Loving someone and losing them is a terrible thing.”

Boone shuddered as a dozen different thoughts roared through him. On the one hand, it didn’t sit well with him that Jasper had aired the family’s dirty laundry for all to see and read about with their morning coffee and Danish. On the other hand, it had been Jasper’s story to tell. He’d lived it. And Boone had no right to judge him for it. He’d done it for the greater good—to inspire women to move lock, stock and barrel to the place his family called home.

“He laid himself bare in that article, all in the hopes of inspiring women to come to Love and plant roots here. But Operation Love might not work out the way he’s envisioned. I don’t want him to get his heart broken all over again.” There was a ragged little catch to his voice, one born of suppressed emotion and tenderness. He locked eyes with Grace, and he knew she’d heard the emotion in his voice. He could see it reflected back at him in her eyes.

Grace’s expression fell, and she appeared shaken by his comment. “I’m not sure you can protect him against a broken heart, no matter how badly you might want to. Take it from me, hearts don’t come with a warning label.”

* * *

By late afternoon, the crowd at the Moose Café had dwindled to a few stragglers. Sheriff Prescott had taken off shortly after she made her comment about broken hearts. Judging by his reaction, it fell under the category of “too much information.” She shouldn’t be surprised. Most men shied away from conversations about feelings and heartache. Come to think of it, so did she. But there had been something so poignant and genuine about his desire to protect his grandfather. It had cracked her wide open.

Hearts don’t come with a warning label. Ugh! She couldn’t believe those words had tumbled off her lips. There must be something in the Alaskan air that caused blabber-itis. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

After Cameron shut down the kitchen and coffee bar he laid out some basic rules about working for him. He seemed like a pretty laid-back and reasonable boss. He gave each of them a uniform—a custom designed T-shirt with a big brown moose on it. The words, Got coffee? had been printed on one of the antlers. There were also a pair of sweatpants with the words Moose Café printed down the side of one leg. Grace didn’t know what was more upsetting. The ugly brown uniform or the idea of coming to work tomorrow as a barista. She chewed on her lip, wondering if she should pull Cameron aside and confess her lack of real-world experience as a barista.

No, she couldn’t do it. It might cast her in a bad light and draw suspicion on her. She didn’t need anyone in Love questioning her reasons for being in Alaska. This series would rise and fall on the real-life experiences of the townsfolk. If she couldn’t get them to trust her and talk freely with her about their trials and tribulations, as well as the woman shortage...there would be no series. If they had any reason to suspect her, they might clam up. She was just going to have to channel her inner barista and do her best to whip up the best coffee drinks ever served at the Moose Café.

Since she and Sophie were both going to be living at the Black Bear Cabins, Hazel, their new landlord, had offered to drive them over. Grace was feeling a little jet-lagged after the long flight and the meet and greet with the residents of Love. It would be nice to get into some comfy clothes and relax. Something about the dark, dreary climate was making her more tired than usual. Not to mention that her fingers were itching to write up some of her observations on her computer before she settled in for the night.

The moment they stepped outside she noticed the sign reading Sheriff’s Department tacked on to the building directly across the street. She let out a sigh. Having the easy-on-the-eyes sheriff so close by might not be such a good thing. Being in Love had nothing to do with discovery or making a match with a hunky Alaskan man. It was all about her job. Staying here in Alaska for six weeks was a means to an end. This series about the citizens of Love, Alaska, would sell itself. All she had to do was write meaty articles and sprinkle them with slices of everyday life in this charming hamlet.

The minute Jasper had started talking about the Gold Rush and lost treasure, he’d totally captured her attention. It was the perfect angle for the piece. It added a historical perspective and a folksy charm that would hook readers. She brushed aside the kernel of guilt gnawing at her. There was no doubt in her mind that she would be subjecting this small village to considerable media once her piece about buried treasure in Love hit the presses. She prayed it wouldn’t turn into a media circus with treasure hunters descending on the fishing village in pursuit of riches.

It’s not my problem, she reminded herself. Eyes on the prize. In six weeks’ time this town would be nothing more than a memory for her. The only person she had any allegiance to was herself. And her job at the New York Tribune.

“It’s only about an eight-minute drive to the cabins,” Hazel explained as she navigated her truck along the snow-covered streets of downtown Love. Grace quietly took in all the quaint shops along Jarvis Street as Sophie chattered away in the front seat. There was a barbershop, a small bookstore called The Bookworm, a trading post, a post office and a pawnshop. Grace wrinkled her nose. Where were the nail salon and the beauty shop? Had her research led her astray? She’d been certain that at least one beauty shop existed in Love. Perhaps it had closed down or it wasn’t located in the center of town. Maybe nails and hair weren’t deemed important here.

“How do you drive in all this snow?” Grace asked, her eyes transfixed by the snowflakes swirling through the air. It fascinated her to see Hazel tackling the rugged, icy terrain as if it was no big deal.

“As long as I have my all-wheel drive and studded tires, I’m good. You get used to driving in snow and ice in this type of climate. We’re heading into the rainy season, too, which has its own challenges. Luckily, winters aren’t as brutal here on the coast as they are in the interior. At least here in Love we can enjoy outdoor activities without freezing our tails off.”

Nope! Grace thought. Freezing her tail off was definitely not an option.

Along the way they passed a few other cars and some townsfolk. Each and every time, Hazel tooted her horn and waved. If nothing else, Grace got the impression that the folks here in town were part of a tight-knit community. In New York, people typically honked their horns as a sign of annoyance and rarely as a way of greeting their neighbors.

They sped by several moose-crossing signs, a sight that caused Grace to take out her camera and snap a few pictures. Although she had no idea what happened when you ran across a moose, the very idea of it seemed surreal. When Hazel turned off the main road, a faded, rusted sign announced the Black Bear Cabins. Snow-covered trees lined the lane leading to the property. Beautiful white-capped mountains loomed in the distance, serving as a reminder that she was in a completely different world than the one she normally inhabited. The cabins were a reddish brown color and were rustic in appearance. Each one had a porch out front with two Adirondack chairs filling up the small space.

Hazel helped them lug their suitcases to their front porches. As she made her way to her new lodging, snow and ice seeped into her shoes, bringing into sharp focus her earlier conversation with the sheriff of Love. She hated to admit it, but her shoe choice hadn’t been practical. Sooner rather than later, she was going to have to dig out her furry, heeled boots.

Their new landlord took out a key and opened up the cabin door. She ushered them in with a flourish, extending her hand as she said, “Here are your digs. Living room, kitchen, bed and bath. Nothing fancy, but it’s warm and safe.” She handed Sophie another key. “Your place is next door. If you need anything I’m at the lodge right down the road. There’s a blue rock outside poking through the snow. You can’t miss it.” Before Grace could blink, Hazel was gone.

Grace frowned as she looked around the utilitarian cabin. Every single thing in the cabin was brown and no-frills. She had a sudden flashback to Camp Hiawatha, the overnight camp her parents had stuck her for three long weeks when she’d been twelve. The word bleak instantly came to mind. “This place is—”

“Full of possibilities,” Sophie interjected.

Grace turned toward the closest thing she had to a friend in Love. Although she was hoping to see a look of dismay on her face, all she saw was a perky little smile. She dropped her bags to the hardwood floor with a thud and heaved a tremendous sigh. She liked Sophie an awful lot, but there was no way on Earth she could fix this situation. As far as Grace was concerned, the next six weeks couldn’t go by fast enough.

Chapter Three

Boone put his feet up on his desk and settled back in his chair, his hands braced behind his head as he made himself comfortable. Although his shift was officially done, he planned on hanging out at his office for a bit longer.

It wasn’t as if he had anything to go home to at night. Maybe if Kona was a stay-at-home dog, Boone would be raring to leave the office after a full day’s work, if only to reunite with his four-legged friend. So far, being at the sheriff’s office trumped going home to an empty house. With every passing day he was beginning to realize that God hadn’t intended him to walk through life alone. Lately, there had been a relentless ache inside him. A desire to settle down. An unwillingness to spend another Valentine’s Day without a special someone in his life. Perhaps Operation Love wasn’t such a crazy idea after all.

He shook his head and chuckled at the memory of Thomas and Seth fighting over Grace. Although he didn’t advocate using one’s fists to solve problems, he had to admit that a woman like Grace Corbett might cause a man to get carried away. One look into those sapphire-blue eyes and a person could start thinking of things he’d avoided for a long time.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he barely heard the rapping on his office door. Shelly peered in, orange curls bouncing as she bobbed her head. “I just fielded a call from one of the ladies staying at the Black Bear Cabins. She identified herself as Grace Corbett.”

Grace? Shelly now had his undivided attention. He swung his legs off the desk and sat up ramrod straight in his chair. “What’s the problem?”

“She said she’s trapped inside her cabin with a wild animal.”

* * *

Grace sat on the front porch of her cabin, her arms wrapped around her middle as the cold night air began to whip relentlessly against her body. It was fair to say that Sophie must sleep like the dead since she hadn’t emerged from her cabin despite Grace’s desperate cries for help. Nor had she answered her door when Grace had banged on it a few minutes ago. Her current predicament was courtesy of one onyx-colored animal who’d scampered across the living room and scooted under the sofa. For more terrifying minutes than she wanted to admit, she’d stayed frozen in place, afraid to move an inch lest her movement provoked the creature to come out of hiding and attack her.

She’d cried out for help to no avail. She didn’t even have Hazel’s phone number. Feeling desperate, she’d reached for her cell phone and dialed 911 to report the emergency situation. Once she’d gathered her courage to make a break for it, she’d dashed to the front door and escaped. In her panic she’d forgotten to grab her coat. Oh, well. She’d rather freeze to death than venture back into the cabin and run the risk of coming face-to-face with the creature. In the brief seconds she’d laid eyes on him, he’d seemed vicious and mean. She’d seen fangs. Of that she was certain.

Within the space of five minutes she heard the sound of tires crunching against the snow and ice in the driveway. A blue-and-white cruiser quickly came into view, illuminated by the glowing porch light. Once the car pulled up in front of the cabin, she watched as none other than Sheriff Boone Prescott emerged from the cruiser. She’d recognize those broad shoulders of his anywhere. In all her life she didn’t think she’d ever been happier to see anyone. In the face of this crisis, he seemed even bigger and broader and manlier than he’d appeared to be earlier this afternoon.

He tipped his sheriff’s hat at her. “Third time I’ve seen you today, Miss Corbett. I’m getting a strong suspicion you missed me.”

Annoyance flooded her. “Can you please stop calling me Miss Corbett? My name is Grace. You make me sound like someone’s spinster aunt. And might I add that your ego is in rare form, Sheriff Prescott. I called your office because of the creature in my cabin, not in order to see you again.”

He chuckled, seemingly amused by her mild outrage. “If I’m to call you Grace, you’re going to have to call me Boone.”

She nodded. Boone. The name fit him. It was manly and rugged and strong. Just like the sheriff himself. “Okay. Boone it is. Although I’d love to exchange more pleasantries, there’s a creature inside,” she said curtly. “And it’s getting mighty cold out here.” She wrapped her arms around her middle, her teeth beginning to chatter. Why hadn’t she grabbed her coat? Oh, yeah. She’d been afraid of being eaten alive.

He knit his brows together. “A creature? Can you be more specific?”

Grace shivered. It was freezing out here, and the thought of the critter inside her cabin was making her feel a little crazy. What if it was rummaging through all her things and tearing up her clothes? Or ripping apart her favorite pair of shoes?

The sheriff shrugged off his jacket and draped it around her back and shoulders. “Thank you,” she murmured as a woodsy scent assailed her senses.

“The creature,” he prodded, his eyes dark and probing.

“It was big and black...and it hissed at me. I saw teeth...huge, white teeth. Fangs, I believe. And I saw a flash of white, so it may have been foaming at the mouth.”

“A big, black, hissing, foaming-at-the-mouth creature?” Boone flung the question at her in a skeptical manner. His perfectly shaped lips twitched.

She put her hands on her hips and made a huffing sound. “Yes. That’s exactly right. I know what I saw. It’s engrained in my mind.”

“Why don’t you go sit in my cruiser where it’s warm while I check things out? Wouldn’t want you to freeze to death on your first night in town.”

She didn’t want to be safely ensconced in Boone’s cruiser while a story was unfolding mere feet away from her. As a journalist, it simply wasn’t her way. She wanted to be where the action was taking place, in the event she needed to write about it later. Plus, she had every faith in Boone’s ability to keep her safe from being mauled or attacked. Faith. It was funny to feel the first stirrings of faith after going so long without it. “I’ll stay right behind you, if that’s okay,” she said.

The sheriff’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but he nodded and walked toward her cabin door. He wrenched the door open and strode inside, flipping the light on as he entered.

“Where did you last see it?” he asked in a low voice. His eyes were darting all over the room, his body primed for action.

She pointed a shaking finger in the direction of the russet couch. “There. It went under there.” She moved backward a few steps until she was standing next to the open door. If things went south at least she would have an escape hatch.

Boone went over to the couch and rattled it with both hands. Despite the shaking, nothing emerged. He got down on his knees and peered under the sofa. The side of his face was pressed against the hardwood floors.

“Be careful!” she cried out. She’d watched enough episodes of When Animals Attack to know that this could end badly.

Dear Lord, please don’t let any harm come to the sheriff. Or to me. I’m trying to be brave about this Alaska experience, but it’s hard to be strong when there’s a wild animal on the loose in my cabin. And even though Boone was snarky about my shoes this morning, he seems like a good person.

Boone scrambled to his feet and lifted the couch up off the ground, swiveling it as he dropped it down a few feet away. Grace let out a scream as the creature emerged and scooted toward Boone. She watched in horror as he bent down and scooped it up in his arms.

Oddly enough, he seemed as placid as a lake in summer. He hadn’t even flinched.

He sent her a pearly grin. Butterflies fluttered low in her stomach. She wasn’t sure if it was due to Boone’s charm or the unexpected drama unfolding before her eyes. “Grace, meet Primrose. Primrose, this is Grace. She came all the way from New York City, so you can’t camp out in her cabin and scare the daylights out of her.”

“Is that a...skunk?” she asked, noticing for the first time the white stripe trailing down the creature’s back.

“Sure is. She belongs to Hazel. She’s been de-scented, so there’s no risk of being sprayed by her.”

“This is someone’s pet?” Her voice came out squeaky and high-pitched. Boone was patting Primrose on the head and nuzzling her under her chin.

Boone rocked back on the heels of his boots. He appeared to be fighting back a smirk. “Not a pet, exactly, since skunk ownership isn’t legal in Alaska. Hazel has an exhibitor’s license for her. She takes Primrose to schools, wildlife symposiums, fairs and such. She must have gotten loose.”

She craned her neck to get a better look. “She doesn’t bite?”

“She’s domesticated. Hazel raised her from a newborn. Skunks aren’t indigenous to Alaska, but Hazel’s put a lot of love and care into her. She actually rescued her from certain death.”

Grace took a few steps forward until she was standing next to Boone and Primrose. She reached out and tentatively patted her on her back. Truth to be told, Primrose was pretty cute for a skunk.

“See? There’s nothing to fear but fear itself.” Boone looked down at her and their gazes locked for a moment. They were standing mere inches from one another with only Primrose separating them. Something was brewing in the air, some hint of awareness that hummed and pulsed in the atmosphere.

“There you are, Primrose. I’ve been looking all over the place for you.” Hazel’s voice rang out in the silence, shattering the moment before Grace could even put her finger on what had happened between her and the sheriff.

Boone placed Primrose in Hazel’s arms, his movements full of tenderness. “She gave Grace a bit of a scare. It’s not every day a skunk shows up in one’s home.”

Hearing Boone refer to the cabin as her home was jarring. This bare-bones cabin was a far cry from her cozy apartment in Soho, which she’d purchased with her inheritance from her grandfather. Perhaps if the cabin wasn’t so drab, she would feel a little more comfortable living here.

“She’s really quite harmless. Just a nuisance is all,” Hazel explained in an apologetic tone. She nestled her face in Primrose’s fur as she cradled her like a baby. “Thanks for finding her, Grace. I owe you one. You too, Boone.” With a wave of her hand, Hazel was gone, swallowed up by the onyx night as she made her way back to her lodgings.

“Sorry for the commotion,” Grace said sheepishly. She bit her lip and looked down at the floor. She felt like the world’s biggest fool. She hadn’t even been in Love a full day before she’d had to make an emergency phone call to law enforcement. And her big bad creature had ended up being a domesticated skunk. She hadn’t even been in danger of being sprayed by noxious fumes.

“No problem. It’s been a while since I had to rescue someone from a wild, dangerous, foaming-at-the-mouth creature.” Once again she found herself on the receiving end of a beautiful smile.

Unable to stop herself, she let out a whoop of laughter. Now that Boone put it that way, it was rib-tickling hilarious. All the stress and tension faded away. It felt good to laugh out loud at something. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done so. It was hard to wrap her head around how lonely and mirthless her life in New York had become over the past few years. Always being on the move had distracted her from this simple fact.

She’d been so afraid while she’d been alone in the cabin, yet the moment Boone had shown up, those fears had dissipated. Staying in the cabin while he hunted down the creature had been an act of bravery. For a woman who’d lost her faith a long time ago, today had been full of surprises. She’d flown all the way to Alaska, and in the process, confronted her fear of flying head-on. And tomorrow she was beginning her new job as a barista, even though she didn’t have a clue how to make specialty coffee drinks. All in all, she was operating way out of her comfort zone.

Boone folded his arms across his chest, striking a commanding pose. “Was this the closest you’ve ever been to wildlife?”

Grace nodded. “Other than the Bronx Zoo, yes. My family didn’t even own a pet when I was growing up.”

He shook his head, his expression radiating disbelief. “Not a single one? Not even a fish or a hamster?” When Grace shook her head again, he continued. “We had so many pets our house resembled a menagerie.” Their laughter mingled together as one, creating a beautiful harmony.

“So, you really came all the way here because of Jasper’s article?” His smile was nice and easy. The little dimple in his chin stood out even more when he grinned.

“Yes, I did,” she answered. “It really spoke to me.” A feeling of relief swept through her. It wasn’t a lie at all. Just a little bending of the truth. It was definitely because of Jasper Prescott that she’d ended up in Love, Alaska. Only not for the reason Boone believed. Not in pursuit of love.

He let out a soft whistle. “Well then, the single men of Love owe Jasper a debt of gratitude.”

“Why’s that?” she asked, curiosity overtaking her.

“Because you, Grace Corbett, are the most stunning woman this town has ever seen.”

The compliment took Grace by surprise. It washed over her like a gentle summer rain after a scorching heat wave. When she’d asked the question she hadn’t been angling for praise. It wasn’t something she received often, so to have Boone pay her such a kindness warmed her insides. Her cheeks felt warm and she self-consciously tucked her chin into her chest. It was an odd little habit she had when she was nervous. A protective gesture of sorts.