An Alaskan Wedding
An Alaskan Wedding
Belle Calhoune
A Town Called Love Reporter Grace Corbett has the lead of a lifetime. The city girl moves to Love, Alaska, where the mayor's "Operation Love" is matching women from across the country with hunky Alaskan men. Grace pretends to be a woman looking for romance, and her act gets a lot easier when she starts to fall for rugged sheriff Boone Prescott. Grace vowed she'd never let herself love again, but in cold and beautiful Alaska, her heart is thawing for Boone. Still, to win the lawman she'll have to confess everything…and hope that Operation Love can manage one more happy ending.
A Town Called Love
Reporter Grace Corbett has the lead of a lifetime. The city girl moves to Love, Alaska, where the mayor’s “Operation Love” is matching women from across the country with hunky Alaskan men. Grace pretends to be a woman looking for romance, and her act gets a lot easier when she starts to fall for rugged sheriff Boone Prescott. Grace vowed she’d never let herself love again, but in cold and beautiful Alaska, her heart is thawing for Boone. Still, to win the lawman she’ll have to confess everything…and hope that Operation Love can manage one more happy ending.
“If you live to be a hundred you might never see anything half as beautiful as this.”
Northern lights. She let out a gasp as a myriad of colors undulated across the sky. Greens. White. A splash of red appeared. Violet streaks of light shimmered across the sky.
She tilted her head back and stared up at the heavens in wonder. “How is this happening?”
Boone’s explanation came swiftly. “It’s a storm of sorts. The effect comes from directional changes in the earth’s magnetic field. Our ancestors theorized it was past and future events being displayed across the sky.”
She raised her hand toward the vibrating lights. It felt as if she might be able to reach out and grab hold of the bright, flashing waves.
“It’s magnificent,” she said. It was almost as if a painter had made the sky their canvas and splashed paint all over the heavens.
“Beautiful,” Boone said with a sigh.
When she turned toward him, his eyes were focused solely on her. He wasn’t even gazing at the aurora borealis.
BELLE CALHOUNE grew up in a small town in Massachusetts. Married to her college sweetheart, she is raising two lovely daughters in Connecticut. A dog lover, she has one mini poodle and a chocolate Lab. Writing for the Love Inspired line is a dream come true. Working at home in her pajamas is one of the best perks of the job. Belle enjoys summers in Cape Cod, traveling and reading.
An Alaskan
Wedding
Belle Calhoune
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This is love: that we walk in obedience to God’s commands. As you have heard from the beginning His command is that you walk in love.
—2 John 1:6
To my sister, Karen.
You were my very first fan. And for many years,
my only fan. Thank you for cheering me on
and for always believing in the dream.
Acknowledgments (#ulink_4e02bf14-1f42-5772-b2e6-83e8e4dec906)
For my family: Randy, Sierra and Amber.
Thanks for understanding that writing
is a vital part of my life and for celebrating
all my joyful news.
For my editor, Emily Rodmell, for your
continued support, wisdom and vision.
For the Jack and Jill Moms, Stamford-Norwalk.
You guys rock!!!
Thanks for always celebrating me.
To all the readers of the Love Inspired line. I so
appreciate your enthusiasm and encouragement,
as well as your heartfelt letters.
Contents
Cover (#uf42b6e1b-cb31-5ef0-b1d3-852f86d71da3)
Back Cover Text (#uf5fd6292-9804-5bd6-8cfc-0c694e0b7a61)
Introduction (#u01e081c3-d12b-5e5b-9719-b17c7588d6cf)
About the Author (#u3a4ed1cd-6c65-5a19-8bde-3f4ca3f31a1f)
Title Page (#uc3068243-0133-5d44-8345-4f73fe98afff)
Bible Verse (#u5b59f173-d2b2-573c-a658-391753c22891)
Dedication (#u63d2d2af-c355-5fa5-8f89-8ca681e5ad57)
Acknowledgments (#ue88d4a75-b180-51c8-898f-1ddfc1f792cd)
Chapter One (#uf440f1f6-4122-51d3-9979-2c74eb408a81)
Chapter Two (#u97aca905-841a-55e6-b1fe-30a31da6a97f)
Chapter Three (#uf189b941-2cf4-5878-b3ff-81bbe3074430)
Chapter Four (#ucaaf2a49-97b6-5e52-b38a-75daa1217fbc)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_fec332c7-363c-5c2e-ac7e-e7d144e061ac)
Grace Corbett peered out the window of the seaplane, her eyes sweeping over a craggy landscape that looked as if it came straight out of an Alaskan postcard. Majestic white-capped mountains loomed in the distance. A wide expanse of tundra stretched out for miles. Vibrant, green trees dusted with snow dotted the scenery. Firs, spruce and pines, she imagined. She’d done a lot of reading in the past few weeks about Alaska in preparation for her assignment for the New York Tribune. According to her literature, these types of trees were among the most abundant found in the state.
The plane was preparing for its final descent over Kachemak Bay, and it was proving to be a bumpy ride. The bucking motion of the plane was giving her motion sickness. She tried taking slow, shallow breaths to calm herself. “Focus on the moment, not the panic,” she whispered, reciting the mantra from her fear-of-flying class. “You’re here. You’re alive. You’re here. You’re alive,” she chanted.
“Poor thing. You look terrified.” The Southern twang pierced through her terror, reminding her that she wasn’t the only passenger on the flight to Love. She turned to the woman seated next to her, making eye contact with the attractive redhead who was staring at her with a look that oozed sympathy. Although she could tell from her expression the woman was well-meaning, it irritated Grace to be the object of someone’s pity. Been there, done that, she thought grumpily. She’d long ago decided that even if she lived to be one hundred and ten, no one was allowed to host a pity party in her honor. Even if it killed her, she was going to hold her head up high. Her chin trembled as she nodded. “I—I don’t like planes. Especially little ones.”
She let out a moan as the plane bucked and shuddered, jerking her to and fro. Nausea rose up in her throat. Raising a hand to her mouth, she uttered a silent prayer to the big guy upstairs. Even though she’d desperately wanted this assignment, being stuck on a tin-can plane hadn’t been part of the bargain. Something told her that her boss Tony hadn’t wanted her to know before she got to Anchorage about the so-called plane she’d be flying on for the last leg of her journey.
The Southern twang intruded on her thoughts again. “I guess you’re not a good flier. You’re as pale as a sheet,” she said with a knowing look. “I’m Sophie Miller from Saskell, Georgia.” She reached out and clutched Grace’s hand. “Hold my hand, darlin’. Squeeze it as hard as you like. I won’t flinch.”
Grace obeyed without question, tightly squeezing Sophie’s hand. Strangely enough, it made her feel better. If the plane was going down, at least she wouldn’t be alone.
“I’m G-Grace, from New York City. Grace Corbett.” Fear was making her teeth chatter uncontrollably. The sound of it rattled in her ears above the roar of the plane.
“Nice to meet you, Grace,” Sophie said with a grin “I’m so excited about this adventure we’re embarking on,” she gushed. “Taking a job in an Alaskan fishing village. Talk about a leap of faith.”
Grace sighed. “Yeah, it’s a real leap of faith.” She knew exactly what Sophie was talking about. Love. It was the reason she’d flown ten hours from New York to reach the remote town of Love, Alaska. It was all due to the pursuit of love. And happiness. And white picket fences covered in ice crystals and snow, she thought crankily.
If only she wasn’t such a cynic about happily-ever-after. If only she wasn’t so deathly afraid of planes. And spiders. And being led astray by her feelings. She was a passenger on this tiny seaplane that looked as if a strong wind might blow it out of the sky. Thanks to Tony Manzel, her editor at the New York Tribune, she was making her way to a remote Alaskan village in order to pursue a once-in-a-lifetime story. He’d made these travel plans without taking her fear of flying into consideration. He might as well have strapped her to the wing of the plane and shouted “Bon Voyage.”
Two months ago, Tony had called her into his office and brought the story from a Juneau, Alaska, newspaper to her attention. Ever since then she hadn’t been able to get it, or Mayor Jasper Prescott, out of her mind. The article, written by Jasper Prescott, had been sharp and savvy and moving. According to the mayor, the town of Love had experienced a mass exodus of female residents two decades ago. Since then they’d never been able to restore the male to female ratio in town. Add a cannery that had gone belly-up and dwindling income from local businesses, and it had all the markings of a recession.
“Finding Love in Alaska” had been the headline. It had a certain ring to it. Jasper had thrown down the gauntlet and challenged single women to come to Love in pursuit of romance and fellowship. It was his belief that an influx of women would revitalize the town and bring back prosperity. He’d poured his heart out about his inability to prevent his own wife from leaving Love over thirty years ago due to the harsh climate, lack of sunlight and his own personal failings. She’d passed away of pneumonia in the Lower 48 before he could win her back. It was tragic and moving.
With stories like that, the town of Love was a gold mine.
If everything fell into place as she hoped it would, her time in Alaska would result in a major journalistic coup.
Dear Lord. Please don’t let me die out here in the wilds of Alaska. I know You must think I’m pretty nervy asking You for favors since I haven’t kept up with my faith, but I really could use Your help now. I’m out here on a wing and a prayer, Lord. Pun intended.
“Ladies, make sure you’re buckled up,” the pilot shouted. “We’re about to make our final descent, and the wind is kicking up a bit.”
Grace didn’t like the sound of that. Wasn’t there something really dangerous called wind shear? And maybe that clanking sound was the engine falling from the plane. She’d seen a news report about a plane making a crash landing after losing an engine. As a result of her terror, her body tensed up even more. She felt as if she might snap in two. In an unexpected act of bravery, she peeked out the window, gasping at the rate at which the ground was rising up to greet them. She could see massive trees and snow and churning water. Pressing her eyes closed, she began whispering unintelligible words. She clenched the armrest so tightly it felt as if her knuckles might break through her skin.
The plane lurched a bit to the right, causing her to let out a hoarse cry as it landed with a thud on the water. She leaned forward in her seat, placing her hands behind her head in crash position.
“We’re here! We made it,” Sophie announced in a peppy voice. “And so our adventure begins.”
Slowly Grace opened her eyes. Sophie was smiling, her pretty face lit up with joy. Thankfully, they were still in one piece. Safe and sound. She let out a ragged breath. “On a wing and a prayer,” she muttered. Her queasiness hadn’t completely subsided, and the gentle rocking of the seaplane wasn’t making things any better. If she’d eaten any lunch she would surely have lost it by now.
“Well, ladies, we’ve reached our final destination. Welcome to Love. It’s been a pleasure flying with you. Thank you for flying O’Rourke Charters.” The grinning golden-haired pilot, who looked as if he might moonlight as a model, stood up and ushered them toward the exit with a flourish of his hand. If she hadn’t been so terrified about the flight, she might have noticed his chiseled features and broad shoulders. She vaguely remembered him introducing himself when she’d boarded the seaplane, but her mind had been consumed by the small size of the plane and her crippling fear of flying.
“Thank you for getting us here safely, Mr. O’Rourke,” Sophie chirped as she grabbed her carry-on bag and stood up. “Come on, Grace. Alaska is waiting for us.”
Love, Alaska, was a fishing village located fifty minutes from Anchorage, off the Pacific Ocean, on the southeastern tip of the state. Sparsely populated, there were fewer than a thousand residents. Once known for its wild Alaskan salmon and halibut, Love’s economy had fallen off in recent years, along with its abundant fish supply. For the next six weeks, this was home.
Grace zipped up her cranberry-colored down jacket and exited the seaplane on shaky legs. Her hand cradled her stomach as the waves of nausea continued to roll through her. She was blindly following Sophie, who was walking directly in front of her at a pretty fast clip. She heard Sophie cry out with a high-pitched squeal. Sophie stopped short, causing Grace to slam into the back of her. Grace found herself falling forward on the slippery pier with no way of catching herself. Suddenly she was being caught by a pair of strong, manly arms. She looked up, letting out a loud gasp as she laid eyes on the most ruggedly handsome man she’d ever seen in her life.
“Miss, are you all right?” His voice was low and husky yet smooth as silk at the same time. Wide-set, chocolate-brown eyes gazed into hers. Tiny flecks of gold ringed the pupils. Dark lashes framed his eyes. Sandy-brown hair peeked out from under his official-looking sheriff’s hat. A cleft sat in the middle of his chin, serving, no doubt, as a stamp of approval on an indisputably gorgeous face.
She coughed to clear her throat, giving herself a few seconds to gain some composure. After all, she was a competent, professional journalist, not some moon-eyed schoolgirl. It wasn’t as if he was the first nice-looking man she’d come across.
“F-fine. I’m fine,” she said as he firmly set her down on the pier. She wobbled for a moment, taking a brief second to get her bearings. Once she collected herself she stood up while leaning heavily on his arm to support her weight. For the first time she noticed that her rescuer towered over her. Now that he’d straightened to his full height, she had to crane her neck to get a nice view of his face.
He scowled at her, his chiseled features only enhanced by his fierce expression. Being on the receiving end of his disapproval felt like being doused with a bucket of ice-cold water. Hmm. Maybe he wasn’t as handsome as she’d first thought. He probably thought he was the cat’s meow.
“Those shoes are an accident waiting to happen,” he barked, his mouth set in grim lines. “This dock gets icy. You’re going to break your neck wearing them.”
Grace looked down at her midnight-black, designer heels. They’d cost her almost half of her weekly salary even though she’d bought them at a deep discount. Although she was grateful he’d saved her from falling on her face, she wasn’t about to let him denigrate her shoes.
“These shoes are sheer perfection. I bought them at a sample sale. And the only reason I stumbled is because—” She shot a glance at Sophie, who was chatting up a storm with an older man with white hair and whiskers. A few school-aged children stood nearby holding brightly colored welcome signs. Sophie was way too sweet to hang out to dry. And perhaps it was the icy dock’s fault after all. “It doesn’t matter why I was such a klutz, but it has nothing to do with these shoes. I’m a pro at walking in heels.”
“If you say so,” he answered, his tone infused with doubt.
“Thanks for the save.” She held out her hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Grace. Grace Corbett.”
“I’m Boone Prescott, town sheriff.” His grip was firm as he shook her hand with an air of authority. Something about the way he carried himself convinced her that he was a no-nonsense kind of man. And if the lack of a wedding ring meant anything, he wasn’t married. Not that it mattered any. She was here for a story and nothing else. Strictly business.
Her lips twitched at his introduction. Boone Prescott was the sheriff of Love. It sounded like a song. I’m thesheriff ofLove. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sheriff Prescott pointedly raised his eyebrow in her direction. His eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head to the side as he gazed at her. His expression was almost identical to the one her boss gave her when she’d said something outrageous. Oops! Had she actually just started humming and singing her “Sheriff of Love” song out loud? If she had to hazard a guess by the look on Boone’s face, she had. And judging by his expression and the way he sauntered in the other direction, he was none too impressed by her vocal talents.
* * *
Boone stood at the end of the pier, his arms folded over his chest as he surveyed the mayhem swirling around him. It seemed as if every living, breathing male resident in town had decided to make an appearance today at the dock. He stroked his chin as he swept his gaze over the throng of people crowded around Grace and the other young woman with the fiery hair. He shook his head in disapproval at the men jockeying for position and jumping in to carry pieces of luggage for the two newcomers. They were acting like vultures.
Without meaning to, his eyes settled on Grace Corbett like laser beams. Unbidden, a sigh escaped his lips. Without a doubt, the woman was lovely. With her jet-black hair, blue eyes and creamy complexion, she had a unique, striking appearance. Her high-heeled shoes displayed her shapely legs to great advantage. She was bound to make a commotion in this small haven he called home. A slight tightening in his chest cavity accompanied that thought.
This time the sigh he let out was one of frustration. Why couldn’t things be more simple? Why did his grandfather have to muddy the waters by advertising all over the United States about the sad state of affairs in Love? And why did Grace have to look so downright appealing, inappropriate shoes and all? Four-inch heels in the wilds of Alaska? He shook his head in disbelief. Grace was jaw-droppingly beautiful, but he wasn’t about to give her a pass simply because she was the single most attractive woman who’d ever stepped foot into Love. For starters, she didn’t seem to have a lick of good sense. Walking around in four-inch heels in an Alaskan fishing village was a recipe for disaster.
Didn’t she know Alaska was a place filled with rugged terrain, unforgiving weather and a serious lack of fashion sense? On second thought, perhaps not. She looked every inch the city girl with her stylish down coat and fancy luggage. Her dark hair was adorned with a jeweled clip of some sort, and her makeup was flawless. He wasn’t a big believer in eye shadow or lipstick, but on Grace it looked spectacular.
He chewed his lip. What in the world was this type of woman doing in Love? The question buzzed around him like an annoying gnat. She was as out of place as a polar bear on a tropical beach. He knew from past experience about city girls who tried to make it in Alaska. Been there, done that. He had the scars to prove it. Thinking about Diana didn’t hurt half as much as it used to, he realized. Instead of feeling a stabbing pain in the region of his heart like he had in the past, all he felt now was regret. He wished he hadn’t spent all those weeks and months hurting over her. She really hadn’t been worth his time.
“Enjoying the view, Sheriff?” Declan O’Rourke’s familiar, teasing voice cut into his thoughts, serving as a much-needed reminder that he was still on the clock. Boone shot his best friend a look of annoyance and then made a point to look in another direction entirely. Now Grace Corbett was no longer in his line of sight. Although he could see a flash of cranberry in the corner of his eye, he willed himself not to look in her direction. It was easier said than done, he realized. Almost like not gazing at a glorious Alaskan full moon.
“No harm in looking, right?” Declan asked with a jab in his side.
He gritted his teeth. Maybe, just maybe, if he completely ignored Declan he would leave him alone.
“Did you see my two passengers? Can’t remember the last time we had two beauty queens come to town.” Declan let out a high-pitched whistle of appreciation. “Jasper really riled things up here, didn’t he?”
At the mention of his grandfather, Boone raised an eyebrow. “Jasper doesn’t know how not to shake things up. One of these days this experiment of his is going to blow up in his face.”
Declan’s mouth quirked. “It’s not exactly an experiment, Boone. It was a call to action, a bid to save this town.”
Boone let out a snort. “You sound just like him.” He shook his head at the idea of his grandfather’s crazy scheme being a good thing for the town. In the six short weeks of Operation Love, the town had been stirred up like a hornet’s nest. Little by little, women had straggled into town. Twenty-two in all. Some had left on the next thing smoking, while others had lasted a little more than a week. So far, fourteen had stuck it out.
“Hey, the proof is in the pudding. Six couples already. Six!” Declan said in a triumphant voice.
“Doesn’t matter if it’s six or sixty. We’ll see if they last,” he answered with a sigh. “If they don’t, there’s going to be a lot of brokenhearted villagers. And even if this town has an abundance of women, it won’t do anything to solve our fiscal problems. With the cannery gone, everyone’s scrambling to come up with a way to bring income to town.”
Silence hung in the air for a moment as they both absorbed the cold, harsh fact of the matter. True love was a beautiful thing, but it wasn’t going to get the fishing cannery up and running, nor would it put money in the town’s coffers. Although things weren’t dire at the moment, a few years down the road it might all fall apart. Something needed to be done to turn things around, and he didn’t think Operation Love was it.
Declan jerked his chin in the direction of the two women and the welcome wagon that had encircled them. “They’re headed to the Moose. You going over? From the sounds of it, you could use a heavy dose of caffeine to pick up your mood.”
The Moose Café, one of the town’s most popular eating establishments, was owned by Boone’s younger brother, Cameron. Situated in the center of town on Jarvis Street, directly across from the sheriff’s office, it was a hangout for the locals. A few times a week Cameron brought in musicians who performed live for the customers. Other afternoons he allowed local artists to set up their painting and sculptures for sale. Although he himself wasn’t a big coffee drinker, folks raved about all the varieties of coffee Cameron served up. From what he’d heard, he’d been branching out by offering lunch specials and baked goods. His brother had told him a few days ago that he was expecting new hires today, two women who were flying in to Anchorage from the Lower 48. Clearly, Grace was one of Cameron’s new employees.
Somehow the image of Grace serving up java drinks, sourdough bread and cherry chocolate-chip cookies did not compute. He didn’t know why, but the image struck him as off somehow. She seemed like the type of woman who dressed up to go work and always had a purse to match her outfit. He shook his head, wanting to free himself of any more thoughts of Grace. It wasn’t as if he knew her, after all. He was merely speculating.
“No, thanks. I need to get back to the office.” With a nod in Declan’s direction, he turned on his heel and began walking back down the pier, right past Grace and her crowd of admirers. As he walked past, he couldn’t help but look in her direction. She was staring right at him, a smile illuminating her face. She cheerily waved in his direction and called out to him. “See you later, Sheriff.”
He raised his hand and waved back, stifling a mad urge to stick around and get to know Grace better. Something about the way she’d grinned at him warmed his insides. Even though he’d been testy with her earlier about her heels, she seemed willing to put her best foot forward. For the life of him he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so conflicted about something. Or so intrigued. Even though his legs were carrying him in the opposite direction of Love’s prettiest new resident, something inside him urged him to turn back around and stay a while.
As he settled himself behind the wheel of his cruiser, a dozen different questions were bouncing around his mind. Where had Grace come from in the Lower 48? Everything about her screamed city girl. Perhaps Boston, Chicago, Los Angeles or New York? Was it an adventurous spirit that had compelled her to relocate to Love? Or an open heart?
As images of Grace danced in his head, he couldn’t help but remember that the last time he’d fallen for a city girl, his heart had been handed to him on a platter.
* * *
Welcome to Love. The prettied-up sign with the crooked letters hanging above the doorway of the Moose Café had made Grace want to shout with laughter. The establishment was as girly as a men’s locker room. It was dark and dreary, all grays and browns, exuding an indisputably masculine vibe. Antlers hung on the wall, along with a dartboard and a retro framed print of a grizzly bear. Clearly, someone had wanted to impress the ladies by putting a few feminine touches in place. “Oh, this is lovely,” Sophie had gushed. She’d raised her hands over her mouth, green eyes moist with emotion. “This is such a sweet gesture.”
Sophie was right. It was thoughtful. And sweet. She wasn’t used to either. As a journalist living in a metropolitan area, she operated in a high-pressure world. Competition among her peers for stories was fairly cutthroat. Although she got along well enough with her boss at the Tribune, Tony wasn’t exactly the warm and fuzzy type. He’d never so much as given her a “thatta girl” or a thumbs-up. But that was all about to change, she thought. After she wrote this series on Love, Alaska, he’d be falling all over himself to pat her on the back. She might even get a promotion and a raise out of this, if she knocked it out of the park. Thoughts of a corner office with a view of Central Park danced in her head. She might even be eligible for a journalism award.
Within moments of entering the café the delicious aroma of baked goods wafted in the air. Grace lifted her nose in the air and sniffed. Cinnamon buns? Cookies? Whatever it was, the scent caused her stomach to grumble and her mouth to water. It had been hours since she’d eaten anything other than a stale bag of pretzels and a few handfuls of popcorn. She was famished.
“Ladies. Sophie and Grace, I presume.” She saw Sophie’s eyes widen as her jaw swung open. Grace followed her gaze until the trail stopped cold. The owner of the voice was tall and lean with chocolate-brown hair. Green-hazel eyes and a winning smile completed the picture.
What in the world was in the water supply in this town? No wonder women were giving up their lives in the 48 contiguous states and making tracks to Love. There were more hunky men in this fishing village than she’d seen in Manhattan in the past few weeks together. Operation Love should be renamed Operation Hotties.
“Hello. I’m Cameron Prescott, the owner. And your new boss.” Prescott? As in related to the mind-bogglingly handsome Sheriff Boone Prescott? She studied him for a moment, recognizing the similarities between the two men. Although Cameron was Alaskan eye candy, the sight of him didn’t pack the same sucker punch that his brother had. That was a good thing, since she was going to be working for Cameron at the Moose Café.
In all the hubbub, how could she have forgotten? She’d taken a job as a barista. As part of her cover story it had been important to find a paying job in town. It was also a great way to schmooze with the townsfolk and get a feel for Love. Since her skills were pretty much limited to writing for a living, her options had been slim to none. Tony had found this barista gig on an Alaskan job search website and sent in an application on her behalf. Lo and behold, she’d been hired. She stuck out her hand to Cameron, only to find herself being enveloped in a huge bear hug. Not knowing what else to do, she clung on for dear life. As soon as he let go of her, he reached for Sophie, giving her the same enthusiastic greeting. When he let go he stood back and rubbed his hands together. “I can’t wait till tomorrow. This place should be pretty packed considering it’s Cappuccino Tuesday—a free baked good with any cappuccino order. It’s turning out to be a really great promotion. Hey,” he said, his expression full of excitement. “Why don’t I give you a quick tour of the kitchen? I promise to feed you afterward.”
Grace groaned on the inside. This job was definitely going to be challenging, considering she’d only managed a two-week stint at Java Giant before she’d quit after realizing it was too stressful. Although the smell of coffee drifting through the air had been an incentive, she’d never gotten the hang of whipping up the drinks and serving the actual customers. She grimaced as memories of disgruntled, loud customers came into sharp focus. These coffee-holics took their drinks seriously, and they didn’t take too kindly to inexperienced baristas messing up orders.
Fake it till you make it. That had always been her motto, and there was no need to switch things up at the moment. It had gotten her through some of the most difficult moments of her life. Gritting her teeth and smiling through the pain had served her well. There was no reason to switch things up now.
* * *
When the door to Boone’s office crashed open without warning, his Alaskan malamute, Kona, emitted a low, menacing growl. The hairs stood up on the back of Kona’s spine as the dog raced over to investigate.
“Hey, Kona. Good girl,” Declan crooned as he nuzzled Kona’s face and lavished her with the love and attention she craved. Within seconds Kona was wagging her tail and slobbering all over their visitor. Boone made a mental note to talk to his assistant, Shelly, about boundaries. Declan clearly had none, considering he never bothered to knock. His shameless flirting with Shelly gave Declan a direct line to his private office. All it took on his part was a wink and a smile.
Declan plunked himself down in one of the comfortable leather swivel chairs opposite Boone’s desk. From past experience, Boone knew it was a sure sign he was planning to stay awhile.
Boone raised his head and subjected him to a fierce scowl. “I thought you were heading over to the Moose. From the sounds of it, the whole town is over there.”
“I stopped in for an espresso,” Declan said. “And a few of those churro treats Cameron makes.”
Boone rolled his eyes at his best friend. A year ago he hadn’t known an espresso from a hot chocolate. Now all of a sudden he was a connoisseur.
Declan leaned back in his chair and slowly began to stroke his chin. “So, I saw you talking to the dark-haired one earlier on the pier. Ginny. Georgia. I think that’s her name.”
“Grace,” he said, his tone clipped. “Grace Corbett.”
Declan shot him a knowing look textured with twenty-plus years of friendship. “So, you got your eye on her, huh?”
Boone leveled a category-five glare at his best friend. “No, I do not have my eye on Grace Corbett. Despite my grandfather’s grand scheme to bring marriageable women and marry off the single men in town, I want nothing to do with it. And if I did want to fall in love and settle down, I certainly wouldn’t hand-select a woman who doesn’t have the brains God gave a goose.” Settling back in his chair, Boone let loose with a loud harrumph. “Sky-high heels. It’s a wonder she didn’t break her neck.”
Declan swung his feet onto the edge of Boone’s desk and leaned back in his chair, his hands propped behind his head. A wide grin showcased a set of pearly whites. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re not interested, ’cause there are a few men already staking their claim.”
Boone shot up in his chair. “Staking a claim? They aren’t pieces of property to be claimed, Declan. It’s chauvinistic comments like yours that got us into this sad situation in the first place.”
Declan waved a hand in the air. “Take it easy. I didn’t mean it like that. And I’m not taking responsibility for the woman shortage in this town. Those ripples started when we were barely a twinkle in our parents’ eyes.”
Boone lowered his head and tried to focus on the report set out before him on his desk. “So, who’s circling around Grace?” His voice came out gruffer than he’d intended.
“Why don’t you come with me to the Moose Café and find out for yourself?” Declan tossed out the invitation with all the grace of a major-league pitcher. He stood up from his chair, a sly grin etched on his face.
Humph, he thought grumpily. It was classic Declan to dangle a carrot in front of his nose, knowing he could never resist a challenge being thrown down. He’d been doing it ever since they were in the second grade. With a loud groan he surrendered, pushing himself away from his desk and making his way toward his office door. Much to his chagrin, his curiosity had gotten the better of him. Kona cocked her head to the side and proceeded to trail after him. With a quick hand signal and a one-word command, he had Kona settled back down in her dog bed.
With his best friend following behind him, Boone wrenched his office door open and strode down the hall past his bewildered-looking receptionist.
“I thought you were in for the rest of the afternoon,” Shelly called out after him.
“I thought so, too,” he mumbled as he strode out the door and beat a fast path across the street to the Moose Café.
* * *
Cameron beamed with pride as he finished the grand tour and led them back into the main dining area of the café. While they were in the kitchen, Sophie had asked all the right questions—while Grace had been praying that Cameron wouldn’t ask too many questions about their previous work experience as baristas. It was nice to see that Cameron was so gung ho about the Moose Café and all its trimmings. “It sure is beautiful,” Sophie said, her tone brimming with enthusiasm.
“Thanks. It’s my pride and joy. Why don’t the two of you take a seat and I’ll bring you something to eat?” He gestured toward the dining area. The crowd literally parted as they made their way to one of the tables by the window. There were lots of curious stares and hats tipped in their direction. Several men rushed forward to pull their chairs out for them and stick menus in their hands. Sophie was all polite smiles and thank-yous while Grace was still trying to figure out how she was going to wing it as a barista. Thankfully the place was only open six hours a day.
When she went to sit down she found the chair in front of her being wrenched to the left and then to the right. And back again. Two men were having a tug-of-war over the chair. They’d introduced themselves to her and Sophie earlier at the dock, although for the life of her she couldn’t remember either of their names. Henry? Theodore? She held up her hands, prepared to tell both of them to knock it off when they released the chair and began poking each other in the chest.
The sound of a sharp whistle rent the air. “Hey! What’s going on here?” She blinked in surprise to see Sheriff Boone at her side, his arm encircling her back in a protective gesture. He gently pushed her aside before stepping in between the two adversaries. He looked at one, then the other, his expression forbidding. “I hope neither one of you is doing anything that might warrant a trip to the sheriff’s office.” He continued to swing his gaze back and forth between both men. “I think it’s best to shake hands and apologize to the ladies for being overzealous.”
The two men hung their heads, grudgingly shook hands and then mumbled brief words of apology before stepping into the background. Grace almost felt sorry for them. They’d slunk off like polecats.
What in the world had just happened? Had two men actually been fighting over her in an Alaskan coffeehouse?
Boone looked down at his watch and then pointedly back to her. “Congratulations, Miss Corbett. You’ve been in town for less than an hour, and you already have grown men fighting over you.”
Chapter Two (#ulink_2b0ced01-04c8-5b74-bef7-7df78d71db2f)
Heat warmed her cheeks as a result of Sheriff Prescott’s comment. Was she really being blamed for the mayhem that had just erupted? The last thing she wanted was for two local yokels to duke it out for her time and attention. She made a mental note to add this to her column for the Tribune. Men shamelessly brawling over a single woman in a local eating establishment. The sheriff of Love forced to break things up. It was thrilling to see how quickly anecdotes for her articles were beginning to materialize. Yet it was annoying to be blamed for something she’d had no part in.
“I never wanted... I didn’t mean to—” she stammered, instantly losing her composure under the heat of his gaze.
His grin was slow in the making, but bit by bit it broke over his face until it seemed as if it stretched from ear to ear. Brown eyes twinkled. Little crinkles gathered near his eyes. “I’m teasing you. Seth and Thomas fight over every little thing under the sun. If they weren’t fighting over you, it would have been over who was picking up the tab or which one of ’em caught the biggest fish.”
Relief swept through her. For some reason she didn’t want the sheriff to think she was starting trouble on her first day in Love. She smiled back at him, feeling a bit dazzled by his pearly whites and effortless charm. He pulled back her chair and gestured for her to sit down. From her seat across from Grace, Sophie was beaming at Sheriff Prescott as if he’d just achieved world peace. Before she could make the introductions, Sophie stuck out her hand. “Howdy. I’m Sophie Miller. Nice to meet the man who keeps law and order in this town.”
“Sheriff Boone Prescott,” he said, reaching out to shake Sophie’s hand. “I do my best to keep this town orderly.”
Prescott? Prescott? The name was now ringing in her ears. She’d heard that name before ever stepping foot into town. What was it about that name? It was on the tip of her tongue. Ahh, yes!
It was Mayor Jasper Prescott who had written the original article about Love, inviting single women to come to his hometown to find romance and to help solve the woman shortage. It was because of Jasper that she’d come up with the idea to write the column about this town and its residents. Now that she was here, she didn’t know whether to thank him or kick him in the shins.
“Hey,” she said, looking up at Boone. “Are you any relation to Jasper Prescott, the town mayor?”
“He sure is.” A raspy voice sounded over her shoulder. She turned her head to see a white haired, whiskered man beaming at her as if he’d been lit up from the inside with a lightbulb. “I’m his grandfather.” He swung his gaze back and forth between her and Sophie, his expression full of joy. “It’s nice to see that Operation Love is in full effect.” He reached over and clapped his grandson on the shoulder. “So, which one of you two lovely ladies is going to take Boone off the market and make me a great-grandfather again?”
* * *
Boone cringed at his grandfather’s none-too-subtle attempt to get him married off. He shouldn’t be surprised, considering this wasn’t the first time he’d tried to play matchmaker on his behalf. Normally, he had the good manners not to mention great-grandchildren. His brother Liam had already given Jasper those bragging rights when his son Aidan was born. At the moment it didn’t seem to matter to Jasper. This time he was clearly going for broke. In response to his pronouncement, Grace’s blue eyes began to blink like a startled owl while Sophie giggled with delight.
“Settle down now, Jasper,” Boone said, trying to shrug off the waves of embarrassment. He didn’t know why Jasper’s meddling was getting to him, since he usually just shook his head and laughed it off. Perhaps it was because of a certain raven-haired newcomer who’d piqued his interest the moment she’d stumbled into his arms. It had been a long time since he’d cared what a woman thought about him, but strangely enough, it mattered to him in this very moment. He didn’t know why, but Grace Corbett’s opinion mattered.
“Hot food coming through.” The loud announcement preceded Cameron’s appearance at the table. He was carrying a large tray filled with drinks and a wide assortment of food. Was it his imagination or was Cameron now serving a much wider variety of foods than he’d realized? He didn’t remember sandwiches being on the menu, or little pizzas. “Hey, Boone.” Cameron acknowledged him with a nod as he deposited plates brimming with food in front of Sophie and Grace. He placed a steaming mug next to each of their plates. “I thought you’d given up coffee.”
“I didn’t stop drinking coffee, Cam,” he explained for what felt like the tenth time. “I’m just not a big fan of those frothy, foamy drinks you specialize in. They’re all tongue twisters, too. A half cup of mocha latte or an iced caramel macchiato with a twist of cinnamon. I like to know what I’m drinking.”
“Don’t knock ’em. Those specialty drinks have put this place on the map,” Cameron answered, a slight edge to his voice.
Boone chuckled. There was a running joke in his family about the Moose Café saving the town from financial ruin. Although the place was doing well, it was a far cry from being Love’s salvation. Perhaps he didn’t say it very often, but he was proud of the way Cameron had turned his life around and made a full-fledged success of his café. If only they could get back to the way things had been between them before everything had fallen apart right along with the cannery deal.
When Cameron had been swindled by his girlfriend’s father and subsequently lost a great sum of the town’s money, it had been hard to find anyone in town to take up for him. He’d been the town’s whipping boy. Boone had tried to defend his brother, but the more he uncovered about the stolen money, the angrier he’d become at Cameron. He’d been so in love with Paige that he’d made foolish, reckless mistakes. And because of it, the whole town of Love had suffered the financial consequences. They’d exchanged words one evening, taking nasty jabs at each other, which were hard to repair in the light of day. Ever since then things had been shaky between them.
Boone watched as Grace picked up her sandwich with both hands and took a big bite out of it. She let out a sigh of appreciation. “This is delicious,” she raved, placing her hand over her mouth as she spoke. She swallowed and took another bite.
“What is it?” Sophie asked, taking a daintier bite of her sandwich. “It’s yummy.”
“Smoked turkey breast with fresh avocado, some crispy bacon and a blue-cheese spread. I’m expanding the menu to attract more culinary-minded customers.”
Jasper waved his hand in the air and plunked himself down in one of the empty chairs. He propped his elbows on the table and said, “Enough about the menu. I want to know what Sophie and Grace think about our little village.”
“They’ve only been here for an hour,” Boone said, shooting his grandfather a warning look. “Let them settle in before you subject them to the grand inquisition.”
Cameron shook his head and threw his hands in the air. “I’ve got to take some orders. Hazel must be swamped in the kitchen.”
Hazel Tookes, owner of the Black Bear Cabins, was a beloved figure in town. In her late sixties, she was an honorary auntie to the Prescott brothers. With her silver hair and piercing green eyes, she was a striking figure. Over the years she’d picked up a lot of the slack in his parents’ absence. Hazel came in a few times a week to help out Cameron in the kitchen and to waitress.
Sophie jumped up from her chair, an eager expression stamped on her face. She bit her lip. “I’d like to make myself useful behind the counter. I’m pretty good at making drinks.”
Cameron shoved his hand through his hair and looked around at the crowd. “That would be great. With all these people in here, I can use all the help I can get.”
Boone’s brother sent him a commiserating look as he walked away with Sophie. They both knew the drill. Jasper was about to start pontificating about the benefits of living in Love, Alaska.
“Forgive me. I’m getting ahead of myself.” Jasper reached for Grace’s hand and raised it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on it. “I met Miss Miller earlier on the pier, so I’m assuming you must be Grace Corbett from New York. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’d be happy if you called me Jasper.”
So his hunch about Grace had been correct. She was a city girl, hailing all the way from the Big Apple. Boone deposited himself in the chair vacated by Sophie. He didn’t dare leave his grandfather alone with Grace. There was no telling what nonsense might come out of his mouth that might send her on the first seaplane back to Anchorage. The very thought of her leaving caused a trickle of discomfort to flow through him.
Jasper continued. “Welcome to Love, my dear. May your journey be one of discovery.”
Grace crinkled her nose. “Discovery?”
“Isn’t that what brought you here?” Jasper asked. “A need to find out more about yourself and the world around you?”
Grace shrugged. “In your article you said there was a need for women here in Love. That’s why I’m here. Not sure about the discovery part.”
Jasper chuckled, a low rumble emanating from his chest. “Don’t worry, Grace. I’m seventy-five years old, but I’m still on the trail of several discoveries. Town legend says that a wise leader will find rivers of gold. I’m aiming to be that leader.”
“Legend? What legend?” Grace leaned forward in her seat, her blue eyes dancing with excitement. There was such a sweet look of rapture etched on Grace’s face. For a moment she resembled a small child who’d been promised the sun, sky and moon.
A slow hiss escaped Boone’s lips. “Don’t get him started,” he warned in a low voice. He shook his head at Jasper. “You’re treading on thin ice.”
Jasper leaned in toward Grace, his voice lowering to a stage whisper. “There’s treasure hidden in Love, buried here by one of our ancestors after the Gold Rush. I’m determined to find it. Not for selfish gain, but for the betterment of this town and our community.”
Boone could still hear every word his grandfather uttered, even though Jasper was doing his best to whisper. Although it wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before, he felt as if he was absorbing it anew through Grace’s perspective. She could be thinking he was a lovable curmudgeon or a raving lunatic. It could go either way.
Grace’s mouth now hung open. Boone couldn’t tell whether she was incredulous or impressed by Jasper’s fanciful tale of gold, hidden treasure and his determination to find it.
“You have a standing invitation to come by my office any time you like and get a personal tour of Love.” He winked at her. “And I might just let you come treasure hunting with me.”
Grace wagged her finger at him. “You better not be teasing me. It sounds like a wonderful adventure. I’m looking forward to it.”
Jasper slowly got to his feet and nodded his head in Grace’s direction. “I have to get back to my office and sign a few ordinances. It has truly been a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Watching his grandfather shuffle away filled Boone’s heart with a mixture of pride and sadness. Jasper wasn’t getting any younger, and his physical decline in recent years had been noticeable. Despite suffering a heart attack a year ago and dealing with chronic arthritis, Jasper still continued to proudly serve as mayor. He’d been serving in that capacity for nearly two decades. Even though Boone thought “Operation Love” was an over-the-top, desperate tactic, he admired Jasper’s passion and the way he’d put himself out there for the world to see, warts and all. Sometimes he worried about his own inability to step out on the ledge and take a risk. For so long now, everything in his life had been nice and comfortable. What was it his father used to say? “No risk, no reward.”
Silence settled over the table in the wake of Jasper’s departure. What now? Idle chitchat? Meaningless conversation? How about this bone-chilling Alaska weather we’re having? Do you come to coffee bars often? He was so out of practice making conversation with an attractive woman, it was downright pitiful. Perhaps he could use a few pointers from his grandfather, who hadn’t skipped a beat in his discussion with Grace.
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 (#ulink_5fca75ac-ae3b-5972-943f-344042ca4dbf)
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.
Boone reached out and gently touched her chin, lifting it up so that their eyes met. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Just speaking a plain truth.”
“Thank you. Not just for the compliment, but for coming out here to assist me. Now I can close my eyes tonight without having to worry.”
He shifted from one foot to another. “I should be getting back to town,” Boone said as he gestured toward the door. “You must be tuckered out.”
Grace trailed behind Boone as he ambled outside. Once he reached the porch, he turned toward her, his expression difficult to read.
She looked past him, distracted by the brilliant stars peeking out through a midnight sky. She let out a surprised cry. “Oh, it’s stunning,” she gasped. Boone turned his head and looked up. In profile his face appeared softer somehow and a little more vulnerable. He didn’t look quite so tough at the moment.
“That it is.” He turned back to her, studying her face for a moment. “Night, Grace. Get some rest.”
She moved toward the doorway of her cabin, unable to resist turning back one last time to wave at Boone as he revved his engine and disappeared down the lane.
As she settled in for the night a feeling of discomfort trickled through her. Boone had been so nice to come to her rescue this evening. Even though he’d been a bit prickly at first, he seemed like a good guy. It didn’t feel great to make him believe she was in town as a participant in Operation Love. It felt like a lie. She shut her eyes tight and pressed her head against the pillow, determined to get a restful sleep.
One thought rattled around her brain as she drifted off to slumber. No one and nothing was going to get in her way of achieving her professional goals, not even a too-handsome-for-his-own-good sheriff who made her weak in the knees just by glancing in her direction.
Chapter Four (#ulink_852e8bfe-976f-5dfb-8ca5-077c1a8011f5)
Grace woke up to a clanging sound resounding in her ears. For a moment a sense of disorientation hung over her like a heavy fog until she remembered—she was in Alaska! Bleary-eyed, she jammed her feet into her rabbit slippers, shuffled over to the front door and pulled it wide open. A gust of cold air blasted her in the face. A brilliant blue sky beckoned. Church bells were ringing!
When she crossed the threshold of her cabin, a slight rustling sound caught her attention. At her feet sat a pretty blue envelope, the color of a robin’s egg. Her name jumped out at her in big bold letters. Grace picked up the envelope and brushed off the snow that had settled on top of it. Using her nail, she slit it open and took out the cream-colored card inside.
Grace,
If you’re still interested in a tour of Love, I can pick you up at the Moose Café after your shift ends at two o’clock. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll assume you’re game to explore...and hear about a legend or two.
Fondly,
Jasper Prescott
Yes! Score! She put the letter up to her lips and kissed it. A tour of Love would allow her to get an overview of the town she would be writing about. Although she’d done a little research prior to coming to town, there was nothing more invigorating than going out in the field and experiencing it for herself. Since Jasper Prescott was the one who’d coined the phrase Operation Love and written the original article about this lovelorn town, she considered it serendipity that he would be the one to show her around. It would be an added bonus if he told her about the legend. That would certainly give her something to write about!
Standing out on the porch in her robe and pj’s felt surreal. Shivering, she looked around her, half expecting to see Primrose scampering through the brush. It was an incredibly beautiful vista. Huge mountains dominated the horizon. It almost felt as if she could reach out and touch them. She breathed in the fresh, pristine air, noticing for the first time that she had a partial view of the bay. The clouds sat in the sky like fluffy cotton balls. Everything felt so crisp and clean.
Grace threw back her head and extended her arms in the air. “Hello, world,” she cried out, half expecting to hear an echo bounce back at her. It was the oddest feeling to be standing on her porch in Love, Alaska, communing with nature. Odd, yet refreshing at the same time. She hadn’t expected to feel this rush of excitement thrumming through her veins. Truthfully, she hadn’t been all that intrigued by Alaska, although she’d jumped at the opportunity to be entrusted with this series. It was quite a professional coup. Nevertheless, the forty-ninth state had never been on her list of places to visit, nor had she been aware of all its charm and raw beauty.
She always felt a burst of adrenaline whenever she began laying the groundwork for a story. Being here in Love, Alaska—a world far removed from what she was used to—heightened the thrill of it all. It made the normal challenges of her profession that much more difficult. And that much more exciting.
Grace’s love of journalism had been sparked at the age of nine by her grandfather. Fred Corbett had been a businessman with a seat on the New York Stock Exchange. While he was ruthless in the boardroom, he was a teddy bear with his only granddaughter. Every time Grace visited his penthouse apartment on the Upper East Side, he’d asked her to bring him the newspaper from the foyer table. Dutifully, each and every time, Grace had brought him the furled copy of the New York Tribune.
“Read me the headlines, Gracie. Tell me what’s going on in the world today,” he’d instructed her in his signature booming voice. He’d sat back in his velvet-cushioned chair, closed his eyes and waited for her to begin.
Grace had read her grandfather the Tribune’s headlines and, in the process, fallen in love with the written word and the stories that made the world go round. Some of the stories made her want to cry, while others educated her about politics and global issues.
Wonderful job, Gracie. Knowing about the world around you is a powerful thing. Thanks for bringing the world to my doorstep today.
Her grandfather’s praise had felt as warm as summer sunshine on her face. He’d made her feel like the most important person in the world, if only for those few minutes she’d held the newspaper in her hands and read aloud to him. It had been the first time in her life anyone had made her feel important. From that point forward she’d devoured the daily newspaper the way some kids gobbled down candy. The stories she uncovered between the pages of the newspaper served as fuel for her dreams. And she’d never forgotten the feeling of having the world at her fingertips. Moving hearts and minds with the power of her words never failed to amaze her.
At the sound of a door being opened, Grace turned toward Sophie’s cabin. “Morning, Grace. It’s our official first day of work. I’m so tickled. I could barely sleep last night.” Sophie crossed her hands prayerfully, the same way Grace had done on Christmas morning when she was a child.
Bless her. Perhaps Sophie’s enthusiasm about working at the Moose Café would rub off on her.
She waved at her new friend. “Hey, Sophie. Isn’t the view beautiful?”
Sophie vigorously nodded her head. “It’s almost as pretty as the bluebirds back in Saskell.” Grace smiled. It was surprising Sophie had left Saskell in the first place. Every time she mentioned her hometown, Sophie lit up like the Fourth of July. What had made her come all the way to Alaska? She was the most lovable woman in the world. And beautiful. Surely she could have found love in Saskell, Georgia?
Not for the first time, Grace wondered why Sophie looked so familiar to her. As a journalist, she had a great memory for faces. This feeling of recognition wouldn’t go away. It had been nagging at her since the flight over from Anchorage.
“Sophie, have we met before? Perhaps back in New York?”
Sophie’s eyes widened. “N-no, ma’am. I don’t think so. I didn’t live in New York for long.”
“Not a fan of big cities?” she asked. She was having a hard time picturing Sophie living in New York. She seemed like a country girl at heart. A real Georgia peach.
“I enjoyed visiting the Big Apple, but my heart never found a home there,” Sophie said, her voice sounding wistful.
Hmm. Grace supposed she had her answer right there. Sophie’s heart was looking for a home, and she’d come to Love in pursuit of it. Not surprisingly, Sophie’s motives were way more noble than her own. She brushed that thought aside. There was no way she was going to let that knowledge eat at her.
After joining Hazel for blueberry pancakes and scrambled eggs at the Lodge, they headed to work at the Moose Café, with Hazel again at the wheel. It had snowed overnight, and as Grace looked around at her surroundings, she felt as if she was living in a true winter wonderland.
They’d barely stepped through the café’s door before Cameron was handing out schedules and giving them each an additional uniform. Grace raised an eyebrow at the image of two moose kissing surrounded by a big red heart. She didn’t know what vibe Cameron was aiming for, but this T-shirt resembled something a teenager might wear.
Cameron rubbed his hands together. He looked as if he was about to jump out of his skin. “Okay. Let’s hit the ground running today.” He looked back and forth between them. “Sophie, why don’t you take the orders and act as hostess while Grace makes the drinks? Some customers just come in for regular coffee and pastries, so be ready to fill up cups, Sophie. Grace, we already have a customer looking for a mochaccino. I’ll head back to the kitchen with Hazel and prepare the food.”
“Yes, indeed. Sounds like a plan,” Grace said, trying to make her voice sound as upbeat as Sophie’s. Fake it till you make it. That was her motto.
“Here, Grace.” Cameron handed her two slips of paper. “Hank comes in early for drinks to bring over to the firehouse. Extra whip on ’em, okay?”
“Got it!” Grace said, looking down at the slips for confirmation of the orders. One mochaccino. Four iced caramel macchiatos. Extra whipped cream.
She let out a sigh. It could have been much worse. At least it was the same drink times four. All she had to do was make two batches of caramel macchiato and serve ’em up in to-go cups. Then one batch of the mocha. There was a cheat sheet on the counter detailing all the ingredients in the most popular drinks. Thank You, God.
Everything stilled around her for a moment. It had been a long time since she’d thanked God for something. Matter of fact, before arriving in Love, she hadn’t thought about God at all for a very long time. They were at a stalemate. In her darkest hours He hadn’t answered her prayers, so she’d decided to ignore Him in return.
“You can do this, Grace,” she said out loud, deciding on positive affirmations to get her through this situation.
One by one she assembled the items and placed them in the blender. Grace stared at the contents she’d placed inside. Okay, this wasn’t so bad after all. It had never been her strong suit, but it wasn’t rocket science. She might be a little slow putting all the ingredients together, but this was looking good. Chewing her lip, she considered all the buttons on the blender, finally deciding to push the biggest one. Nothing. She waited a few beats and pressed again. Why wasn’t this thing working?
She bit her lip as she studied the machine. It wasn’t that different from the ones she’d used at Java Giant. Maybe a few more bells and whistles, but it had been four years since she’d worked for them. No doubt technology had advanced since then.
“Everything okay back here?”
The sound of Boone’s husky voice swept over her like a strong gust of wind. She wanted to let out a loud groan. Of course! It would have to be Boone of all people to discover her in a state of utter confusion. What was he doing here anyway? The crime rate must be pretty low in this town if he could hang out so regularly at his brother’s establishment.
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Belle Calhoune
A Town Called Love Reporter Grace Corbett has the lead of a lifetime. The city girl moves to Love, Alaska, where the mayor's "Operation Love" is matching women from across the country with hunky Alaskan men. Grace pretends to be a woman looking for romance, and her act gets a lot easier when she starts to fall for rugged sheriff Boone Prescott. Grace vowed she'd never let herself love again, but in cold and beautiful Alaska, her heart is thawing for Boone. Still, to win the lawman she'll have to confess everything…and hope that Operation Love can manage one more happy ending.
A Town Called Love
Reporter Grace Corbett has the lead of a lifetime. The city girl moves to Love, Alaska, where the mayor’s “Operation Love” is matching women from across the country with hunky Alaskan men. Grace pretends to be a woman looking for romance, and her act gets a lot easier when she starts to fall for rugged sheriff Boone Prescott. Grace vowed she’d never let herself love again, but in cold and beautiful Alaska, her heart is thawing for Boone. Still, to win the lawman she’ll have to confess everything…and hope that Operation Love can manage one more happy ending.
“If you live to be a hundred you might never see anything half as beautiful as this.”
Northern lights. She let out a gasp as a myriad of colors undulated across the sky. Greens. White. A splash of red appeared. Violet streaks of light shimmered across the sky.
She tilted her head back and stared up at the heavens in wonder. “How is this happening?”
Boone’s explanation came swiftly. “It’s a storm of sorts. The effect comes from directional changes in the earth’s magnetic field. Our ancestors theorized it was past and future events being displayed across the sky.”
She raised her hand toward the vibrating lights. It felt as if she might be able to reach out and grab hold of the bright, flashing waves.
“It’s magnificent,” she said. It was almost as if a painter had made the sky their canvas and splashed paint all over the heavens.
“Beautiful,” Boone said with a sigh.
When she turned toward him, his eyes were focused solely on her. He wasn’t even gazing at the aurora borealis.
BELLE CALHOUNE grew up in a small town in Massachusetts. Married to her college sweetheart, she is raising two lovely daughters in Connecticut. A dog lover, she has one mini poodle and a chocolate Lab. Writing for the Love Inspired line is a dream come true. Working at home in her pajamas is one of the best perks of the job. Belle enjoys summers in Cape Cod, traveling and reading.
An Alaskan
Wedding
Belle Calhoune
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This is love: that we walk in obedience to God’s commands. As you have heard from the beginning His command is that you walk in love.
—2 John 1:6
To my sister, Karen.
You were my very first fan. And for many years,
my only fan. Thank you for cheering me on
and for always believing in the dream.
Acknowledgments (#ulink_4e02bf14-1f42-5772-b2e6-83e8e4dec906)
For my family: Randy, Sierra and Amber.
Thanks for understanding that writing
is a vital part of my life and for celebrating
all my joyful news.
For my editor, Emily Rodmell, for your
continued support, wisdom and vision.
For the Jack and Jill Moms, Stamford-Norwalk.
You guys rock!!!
Thanks for always celebrating me.
To all the readers of the Love Inspired line. I so
appreciate your enthusiasm and encouragement,
as well as your heartfelt letters.
Contents
Cover (#uf42b6e1b-cb31-5ef0-b1d3-852f86d71da3)
Back Cover Text (#uf5fd6292-9804-5bd6-8cfc-0c694e0b7a61)
Introduction (#u01e081c3-d12b-5e5b-9719-b17c7588d6cf)
About the Author (#u3a4ed1cd-6c65-5a19-8bde-3f4ca3f31a1f)
Title Page (#uc3068243-0133-5d44-8345-4f73fe98afff)
Bible Verse (#u5b59f173-d2b2-573c-a658-391753c22891)
Dedication (#u63d2d2af-c355-5fa5-8f89-8ca681e5ad57)
Acknowledgments (#ue88d4a75-b180-51c8-898f-1ddfc1f792cd)
Chapter One (#uf440f1f6-4122-51d3-9979-2c74eb408a81)
Chapter Two (#u97aca905-841a-55e6-b1fe-30a31da6a97f)
Chapter Three (#uf189b941-2cf4-5878-b3ff-81bbe3074430)
Chapter Four (#ucaaf2a49-97b6-5e52-b38a-75daa1217fbc)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_fec332c7-363c-5c2e-ac7e-e7d144e061ac)
Grace Corbett peered out the window of the seaplane, her eyes sweeping over a craggy landscape that looked as if it came straight out of an Alaskan postcard. Majestic white-capped mountains loomed in the distance. A wide expanse of tundra stretched out for miles. Vibrant, green trees dusted with snow dotted the scenery. Firs, spruce and pines, she imagined. She’d done a lot of reading in the past few weeks about Alaska in preparation for her assignment for the New York Tribune. According to her literature, these types of trees were among the most abundant found in the state.
The plane was preparing for its final descent over Kachemak Bay, and it was proving to be a bumpy ride. The bucking motion of the plane was giving her motion sickness. She tried taking slow, shallow breaths to calm herself. “Focus on the moment, not the panic,” she whispered, reciting the mantra from her fear-of-flying class. “You’re here. You’re alive. You’re here. You’re alive,” she chanted.
“Poor thing. You look terrified.” The Southern twang pierced through her terror, reminding her that she wasn’t the only passenger on the flight to Love. She turned to the woman seated next to her, making eye contact with the attractive redhead who was staring at her with a look that oozed sympathy. Although she could tell from her expression the woman was well-meaning, it irritated Grace to be the object of someone’s pity. Been there, done that, she thought grumpily. She’d long ago decided that even if she lived to be one hundred and ten, no one was allowed to host a pity party in her honor. Even if it killed her, she was going to hold her head up high. Her chin trembled as she nodded. “I—I don’t like planes. Especially little ones.”
She let out a moan as the plane bucked and shuddered, jerking her to and fro. Nausea rose up in her throat. Raising a hand to her mouth, she uttered a silent prayer to the big guy upstairs. Even though she’d desperately wanted this assignment, being stuck on a tin-can plane hadn’t been part of the bargain. Something told her that her boss Tony hadn’t wanted her to know before she got to Anchorage about the so-called plane she’d be flying on for the last leg of her journey.
The Southern twang intruded on her thoughts again. “I guess you’re not a good flier. You’re as pale as a sheet,” she said with a knowing look. “I’m Sophie Miller from Saskell, Georgia.” She reached out and clutched Grace’s hand. “Hold my hand, darlin’. Squeeze it as hard as you like. I won’t flinch.”
Grace obeyed without question, tightly squeezing Sophie’s hand. Strangely enough, it made her feel better. If the plane was going down, at least she wouldn’t be alone.
“I’m G-Grace, from New York City. Grace Corbett.” Fear was making her teeth chatter uncontrollably. The sound of it rattled in her ears above the roar of the plane.
“Nice to meet you, Grace,” Sophie said with a grin “I’m so excited about this adventure we’re embarking on,” she gushed. “Taking a job in an Alaskan fishing village. Talk about a leap of faith.”
Grace sighed. “Yeah, it’s a real leap of faith.” She knew exactly what Sophie was talking about. Love. It was the reason she’d flown ten hours from New York to reach the remote town of Love, Alaska. It was all due to the pursuit of love. And happiness. And white picket fences covered in ice crystals and snow, she thought crankily.
If only she wasn’t such a cynic about happily-ever-after. If only she wasn’t so deathly afraid of planes. And spiders. And being led astray by her feelings. She was a passenger on this tiny seaplane that looked as if a strong wind might blow it out of the sky. Thanks to Tony Manzel, her editor at the New York Tribune, she was making her way to a remote Alaskan village in order to pursue a once-in-a-lifetime story. He’d made these travel plans without taking her fear of flying into consideration. He might as well have strapped her to the wing of the plane and shouted “Bon Voyage.”
Two months ago, Tony had called her into his office and brought the story from a Juneau, Alaska, newspaper to her attention. Ever since then she hadn’t been able to get it, or Mayor Jasper Prescott, out of her mind. The article, written by Jasper Prescott, had been sharp and savvy and moving. According to the mayor, the town of Love had experienced a mass exodus of female residents two decades ago. Since then they’d never been able to restore the male to female ratio in town. Add a cannery that had gone belly-up and dwindling income from local businesses, and it had all the markings of a recession.
“Finding Love in Alaska” had been the headline. It had a certain ring to it. Jasper had thrown down the gauntlet and challenged single women to come to Love in pursuit of romance and fellowship. It was his belief that an influx of women would revitalize the town and bring back prosperity. He’d poured his heart out about his inability to prevent his own wife from leaving Love over thirty years ago due to the harsh climate, lack of sunlight and his own personal failings. She’d passed away of pneumonia in the Lower 48 before he could win her back. It was tragic and moving.
With stories like that, the town of Love was a gold mine.
If everything fell into place as she hoped it would, her time in Alaska would result in a major journalistic coup.
Dear Lord. Please don’t let me die out here in the wilds of Alaska. I know You must think I’m pretty nervy asking You for favors since I haven’t kept up with my faith, but I really could use Your help now. I’m out here on a wing and a prayer, Lord. Pun intended.
“Ladies, make sure you’re buckled up,” the pilot shouted. “We’re about to make our final descent, and the wind is kicking up a bit.”
Grace didn’t like the sound of that. Wasn’t there something really dangerous called wind shear? And maybe that clanking sound was the engine falling from the plane. She’d seen a news report about a plane making a crash landing after losing an engine. As a result of her terror, her body tensed up even more. She felt as if she might snap in two. In an unexpected act of bravery, she peeked out the window, gasping at the rate at which the ground was rising up to greet them. She could see massive trees and snow and churning water. Pressing her eyes closed, she began whispering unintelligible words. She clenched the armrest so tightly it felt as if her knuckles might break through her skin.
The plane lurched a bit to the right, causing her to let out a hoarse cry as it landed with a thud on the water. She leaned forward in her seat, placing her hands behind her head in crash position.
“We’re here! We made it,” Sophie announced in a peppy voice. “And so our adventure begins.”
Slowly Grace opened her eyes. Sophie was smiling, her pretty face lit up with joy. Thankfully, they were still in one piece. Safe and sound. She let out a ragged breath. “On a wing and a prayer,” she muttered. Her queasiness hadn’t completely subsided, and the gentle rocking of the seaplane wasn’t making things any better. If she’d eaten any lunch she would surely have lost it by now.
“Well, ladies, we’ve reached our final destination. Welcome to Love. It’s been a pleasure flying with you. Thank you for flying O’Rourke Charters.” The grinning golden-haired pilot, who looked as if he might moonlight as a model, stood up and ushered them toward the exit with a flourish of his hand. If she hadn’t been so terrified about the flight, she might have noticed his chiseled features and broad shoulders. She vaguely remembered him introducing himself when she’d boarded the seaplane, but her mind had been consumed by the small size of the plane and her crippling fear of flying.
“Thank you for getting us here safely, Mr. O’Rourke,” Sophie chirped as she grabbed her carry-on bag and stood up. “Come on, Grace. Alaska is waiting for us.”
Love, Alaska, was a fishing village located fifty minutes from Anchorage, off the Pacific Ocean, on the southeastern tip of the state. Sparsely populated, there were fewer than a thousand residents. Once known for its wild Alaskan salmon and halibut, Love’s economy had fallen off in recent years, along with its abundant fish supply. For the next six weeks, this was home.
Grace zipped up her cranberry-colored down jacket and exited the seaplane on shaky legs. Her hand cradled her stomach as the waves of nausea continued to roll through her. She was blindly following Sophie, who was walking directly in front of her at a pretty fast clip. She heard Sophie cry out with a high-pitched squeal. Sophie stopped short, causing Grace to slam into the back of her. Grace found herself falling forward on the slippery pier with no way of catching herself. Suddenly she was being caught by a pair of strong, manly arms. She looked up, letting out a loud gasp as she laid eyes on the most ruggedly handsome man she’d ever seen in her life.
“Miss, are you all right?” His voice was low and husky yet smooth as silk at the same time. Wide-set, chocolate-brown eyes gazed into hers. Tiny flecks of gold ringed the pupils. Dark lashes framed his eyes. Sandy-brown hair peeked out from under his official-looking sheriff’s hat. A cleft sat in the middle of his chin, serving, no doubt, as a stamp of approval on an indisputably gorgeous face.
She coughed to clear her throat, giving herself a few seconds to gain some composure. After all, she was a competent, professional journalist, not some moon-eyed schoolgirl. It wasn’t as if he was the first nice-looking man she’d come across.
“F-fine. I’m fine,” she said as he firmly set her down on the pier. She wobbled for a moment, taking a brief second to get her bearings. Once she collected herself she stood up while leaning heavily on his arm to support her weight. For the first time she noticed that her rescuer towered over her. Now that he’d straightened to his full height, she had to crane her neck to get a nice view of his face.
He scowled at her, his chiseled features only enhanced by his fierce expression. Being on the receiving end of his disapproval felt like being doused with a bucket of ice-cold water. Hmm. Maybe he wasn’t as handsome as she’d first thought. He probably thought he was the cat’s meow.
“Those shoes are an accident waiting to happen,” he barked, his mouth set in grim lines. “This dock gets icy. You’re going to break your neck wearing them.”
Grace looked down at her midnight-black, designer heels. They’d cost her almost half of her weekly salary even though she’d bought them at a deep discount. Although she was grateful he’d saved her from falling on her face, she wasn’t about to let him denigrate her shoes.
“These shoes are sheer perfection. I bought them at a sample sale. And the only reason I stumbled is because—” She shot a glance at Sophie, who was chatting up a storm with an older man with white hair and whiskers. A few school-aged children stood nearby holding brightly colored welcome signs. Sophie was way too sweet to hang out to dry. And perhaps it was the icy dock’s fault after all. “It doesn’t matter why I was such a klutz, but it has nothing to do with these shoes. I’m a pro at walking in heels.”
“If you say so,” he answered, his tone infused with doubt.
“Thanks for the save.” She held out her hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Grace. Grace Corbett.”
“I’m Boone Prescott, town sheriff.” His grip was firm as he shook her hand with an air of authority. Something about the way he carried himself convinced her that he was a no-nonsense kind of man. And if the lack of a wedding ring meant anything, he wasn’t married. Not that it mattered any. She was here for a story and nothing else. Strictly business.
Her lips twitched at his introduction. Boone Prescott was the sheriff of Love. It sounded like a song. I’m thesheriff ofLove. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sheriff Prescott pointedly raised his eyebrow in her direction. His eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head to the side as he gazed at her. His expression was almost identical to the one her boss gave her when she’d said something outrageous. Oops! Had she actually just started humming and singing her “Sheriff of Love” song out loud? If she had to hazard a guess by the look on Boone’s face, she had. And judging by his expression and the way he sauntered in the other direction, he was none too impressed by her vocal talents.
* * *
Boone stood at the end of the pier, his arms folded over his chest as he surveyed the mayhem swirling around him. It seemed as if every living, breathing male resident in town had decided to make an appearance today at the dock. He stroked his chin as he swept his gaze over the throng of people crowded around Grace and the other young woman with the fiery hair. He shook his head in disapproval at the men jockeying for position and jumping in to carry pieces of luggage for the two newcomers. They were acting like vultures.
Without meaning to, his eyes settled on Grace Corbett like laser beams. Unbidden, a sigh escaped his lips. Without a doubt, the woman was lovely. With her jet-black hair, blue eyes and creamy complexion, she had a unique, striking appearance. Her high-heeled shoes displayed her shapely legs to great advantage. She was bound to make a commotion in this small haven he called home. A slight tightening in his chest cavity accompanied that thought.
This time the sigh he let out was one of frustration. Why couldn’t things be more simple? Why did his grandfather have to muddy the waters by advertising all over the United States about the sad state of affairs in Love? And why did Grace have to look so downright appealing, inappropriate shoes and all? Four-inch heels in the wilds of Alaska? He shook his head in disbelief. Grace was jaw-droppingly beautiful, but he wasn’t about to give her a pass simply because she was the single most attractive woman who’d ever stepped foot into Love. For starters, she didn’t seem to have a lick of good sense. Walking around in four-inch heels in an Alaskan fishing village was a recipe for disaster.
Didn’t she know Alaska was a place filled with rugged terrain, unforgiving weather and a serious lack of fashion sense? On second thought, perhaps not. She looked every inch the city girl with her stylish down coat and fancy luggage. Her dark hair was adorned with a jeweled clip of some sort, and her makeup was flawless. He wasn’t a big believer in eye shadow or lipstick, but on Grace it looked spectacular.
He chewed his lip. What in the world was this type of woman doing in Love? The question buzzed around him like an annoying gnat. She was as out of place as a polar bear on a tropical beach. He knew from past experience about city girls who tried to make it in Alaska. Been there, done that. He had the scars to prove it. Thinking about Diana didn’t hurt half as much as it used to, he realized. Instead of feeling a stabbing pain in the region of his heart like he had in the past, all he felt now was regret. He wished he hadn’t spent all those weeks and months hurting over her. She really hadn’t been worth his time.
“Enjoying the view, Sheriff?” Declan O’Rourke’s familiar, teasing voice cut into his thoughts, serving as a much-needed reminder that he was still on the clock. Boone shot his best friend a look of annoyance and then made a point to look in another direction entirely. Now Grace Corbett was no longer in his line of sight. Although he could see a flash of cranberry in the corner of his eye, he willed himself not to look in her direction. It was easier said than done, he realized. Almost like not gazing at a glorious Alaskan full moon.
“No harm in looking, right?” Declan asked with a jab in his side.
He gritted his teeth. Maybe, just maybe, if he completely ignored Declan he would leave him alone.
“Did you see my two passengers? Can’t remember the last time we had two beauty queens come to town.” Declan let out a high-pitched whistle of appreciation. “Jasper really riled things up here, didn’t he?”
At the mention of his grandfather, Boone raised an eyebrow. “Jasper doesn’t know how not to shake things up. One of these days this experiment of his is going to blow up in his face.”
Declan’s mouth quirked. “It’s not exactly an experiment, Boone. It was a call to action, a bid to save this town.”
Boone let out a snort. “You sound just like him.” He shook his head at the idea of his grandfather’s crazy scheme being a good thing for the town. In the six short weeks of Operation Love, the town had been stirred up like a hornet’s nest. Little by little, women had straggled into town. Twenty-two in all. Some had left on the next thing smoking, while others had lasted a little more than a week. So far, fourteen had stuck it out.
“Hey, the proof is in the pudding. Six couples already. Six!” Declan said in a triumphant voice.
“Doesn’t matter if it’s six or sixty. We’ll see if they last,” he answered with a sigh. “If they don’t, there’s going to be a lot of brokenhearted villagers. And even if this town has an abundance of women, it won’t do anything to solve our fiscal problems. With the cannery gone, everyone’s scrambling to come up with a way to bring income to town.”
Silence hung in the air for a moment as they both absorbed the cold, harsh fact of the matter. True love was a beautiful thing, but it wasn’t going to get the fishing cannery up and running, nor would it put money in the town’s coffers. Although things weren’t dire at the moment, a few years down the road it might all fall apart. Something needed to be done to turn things around, and he didn’t think Operation Love was it.
Declan jerked his chin in the direction of the two women and the welcome wagon that had encircled them. “They’re headed to the Moose. You going over? From the sounds of it, you could use a heavy dose of caffeine to pick up your mood.”
The Moose Café, one of the town’s most popular eating establishments, was owned by Boone’s younger brother, Cameron. Situated in the center of town on Jarvis Street, directly across from the sheriff’s office, it was a hangout for the locals. A few times a week Cameron brought in musicians who performed live for the customers. Other afternoons he allowed local artists to set up their painting and sculptures for sale. Although he himself wasn’t a big coffee drinker, folks raved about all the varieties of coffee Cameron served up. From what he’d heard, he’d been branching out by offering lunch specials and baked goods. His brother had told him a few days ago that he was expecting new hires today, two women who were flying in to Anchorage from the Lower 48. Clearly, Grace was one of Cameron’s new employees.
Somehow the image of Grace serving up java drinks, sourdough bread and cherry chocolate-chip cookies did not compute. He didn’t know why, but the image struck him as off somehow. She seemed like the type of woman who dressed up to go work and always had a purse to match her outfit. He shook his head, wanting to free himself of any more thoughts of Grace. It wasn’t as if he knew her, after all. He was merely speculating.
“No, thanks. I need to get back to the office.” With a nod in Declan’s direction, he turned on his heel and began walking back down the pier, right past Grace and her crowd of admirers. As he walked past, he couldn’t help but look in her direction. She was staring right at him, a smile illuminating her face. She cheerily waved in his direction and called out to him. “See you later, Sheriff.”
He raised his hand and waved back, stifling a mad urge to stick around and get to know Grace better. Something about the way she’d grinned at him warmed his insides. Even though he’d been testy with her earlier about her heels, she seemed willing to put her best foot forward. For the life of him he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so conflicted about something. Or so intrigued. Even though his legs were carrying him in the opposite direction of Love’s prettiest new resident, something inside him urged him to turn back around and stay a while.
As he settled himself behind the wheel of his cruiser, a dozen different questions were bouncing around his mind. Where had Grace come from in the Lower 48? Everything about her screamed city girl. Perhaps Boston, Chicago, Los Angeles or New York? Was it an adventurous spirit that had compelled her to relocate to Love? Or an open heart?
As images of Grace danced in his head, he couldn’t help but remember that the last time he’d fallen for a city girl, his heart had been handed to him on a platter.
* * *
Welcome to Love. The prettied-up sign with the crooked letters hanging above the doorway of the Moose Café had made Grace want to shout with laughter. The establishment was as girly as a men’s locker room. It was dark and dreary, all grays and browns, exuding an indisputably masculine vibe. Antlers hung on the wall, along with a dartboard and a retro framed print of a grizzly bear. Clearly, someone had wanted to impress the ladies by putting a few feminine touches in place. “Oh, this is lovely,” Sophie had gushed. She’d raised her hands over her mouth, green eyes moist with emotion. “This is such a sweet gesture.”
Sophie was right. It was thoughtful. And sweet. She wasn’t used to either. As a journalist living in a metropolitan area, she operated in a high-pressure world. Competition among her peers for stories was fairly cutthroat. Although she got along well enough with her boss at the Tribune, Tony wasn’t exactly the warm and fuzzy type. He’d never so much as given her a “thatta girl” or a thumbs-up. But that was all about to change, she thought. After she wrote this series on Love, Alaska, he’d be falling all over himself to pat her on the back. She might even get a promotion and a raise out of this, if she knocked it out of the park. Thoughts of a corner office with a view of Central Park danced in her head. She might even be eligible for a journalism award.
Within moments of entering the café the delicious aroma of baked goods wafted in the air. Grace lifted her nose in the air and sniffed. Cinnamon buns? Cookies? Whatever it was, the scent caused her stomach to grumble and her mouth to water. It had been hours since she’d eaten anything other than a stale bag of pretzels and a few handfuls of popcorn. She was famished.
“Ladies. Sophie and Grace, I presume.” She saw Sophie’s eyes widen as her jaw swung open. Grace followed her gaze until the trail stopped cold. The owner of the voice was tall and lean with chocolate-brown hair. Green-hazel eyes and a winning smile completed the picture.
What in the world was in the water supply in this town? No wonder women were giving up their lives in the 48 contiguous states and making tracks to Love. There were more hunky men in this fishing village than she’d seen in Manhattan in the past few weeks together. Operation Love should be renamed Operation Hotties.
“Hello. I’m Cameron Prescott, the owner. And your new boss.” Prescott? As in related to the mind-bogglingly handsome Sheriff Boone Prescott? She studied him for a moment, recognizing the similarities between the two men. Although Cameron was Alaskan eye candy, the sight of him didn’t pack the same sucker punch that his brother had. That was a good thing, since she was going to be working for Cameron at the Moose Café.
In all the hubbub, how could she have forgotten? She’d taken a job as a barista. As part of her cover story it had been important to find a paying job in town. It was also a great way to schmooze with the townsfolk and get a feel for Love. Since her skills were pretty much limited to writing for a living, her options had been slim to none. Tony had found this barista gig on an Alaskan job search website and sent in an application on her behalf. Lo and behold, she’d been hired. She stuck out her hand to Cameron, only to find herself being enveloped in a huge bear hug. Not knowing what else to do, she clung on for dear life. As soon as he let go of her, he reached for Sophie, giving her the same enthusiastic greeting. When he let go he stood back and rubbed his hands together. “I can’t wait till tomorrow. This place should be pretty packed considering it’s Cappuccino Tuesday—a free baked good with any cappuccino order. It’s turning out to be a really great promotion. Hey,” he said, his expression full of excitement. “Why don’t I give you a quick tour of the kitchen? I promise to feed you afterward.”
Grace groaned on the inside. This job was definitely going to be challenging, considering she’d only managed a two-week stint at Java Giant before she’d quit after realizing it was too stressful. Although the smell of coffee drifting through the air had been an incentive, she’d never gotten the hang of whipping up the drinks and serving the actual customers. She grimaced as memories of disgruntled, loud customers came into sharp focus. These coffee-holics took their drinks seriously, and they didn’t take too kindly to inexperienced baristas messing up orders.
Fake it till you make it. That had always been her motto, and there was no need to switch things up at the moment. It had gotten her through some of the most difficult moments of her life. Gritting her teeth and smiling through the pain had served her well. There was no reason to switch things up now.
* * *
When the door to Boone’s office crashed open without warning, his Alaskan malamute, Kona, emitted a low, menacing growl. The hairs stood up on the back of Kona’s spine as the dog raced over to investigate.
“Hey, Kona. Good girl,” Declan crooned as he nuzzled Kona’s face and lavished her with the love and attention she craved. Within seconds Kona was wagging her tail and slobbering all over their visitor. Boone made a mental note to talk to his assistant, Shelly, about boundaries. Declan clearly had none, considering he never bothered to knock. His shameless flirting with Shelly gave Declan a direct line to his private office. All it took on his part was a wink and a smile.
Declan plunked himself down in one of the comfortable leather swivel chairs opposite Boone’s desk. From past experience, Boone knew it was a sure sign he was planning to stay awhile.
Boone raised his head and subjected him to a fierce scowl. “I thought you were heading over to the Moose. From the sounds of it, the whole town is over there.”
“I stopped in for an espresso,” Declan said. “And a few of those churro treats Cameron makes.”
Boone rolled his eyes at his best friend. A year ago he hadn’t known an espresso from a hot chocolate. Now all of a sudden he was a connoisseur.
Declan leaned back in his chair and slowly began to stroke his chin. “So, I saw you talking to the dark-haired one earlier on the pier. Ginny. Georgia. I think that’s her name.”
“Grace,” he said, his tone clipped. “Grace Corbett.”
Declan shot him a knowing look textured with twenty-plus years of friendship. “So, you got your eye on her, huh?”
Boone leveled a category-five glare at his best friend. “No, I do not have my eye on Grace Corbett. Despite my grandfather’s grand scheme to bring marriageable women and marry off the single men in town, I want nothing to do with it. And if I did want to fall in love and settle down, I certainly wouldn’t hand-select a woman who doesn’t have the brains God gave a goose.” Settling back in his chair, Boone let loose with a loud harrumph. “Sky-high heels. It’s a wonder she didn’t break her neck.”
Declan swung his feet onto the edge of Boone’s desk and leaned back in his chair, his hands propped behind his head. A wide grin showcased a set of pearly whites. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re not interested, ’cause there are a few men already staking their claim.”
Boone shot up in his chair. “Staking a claim? They aren’t pieces of property to be claimed, Declan. It’s chauvinistic comments like yours that got us into this sad situation in the first place.”
Declan waved a hand in the air. “Take it easy. I didn’t mean it like that. And I’m not taking responsibility for the woman shortage in this town. Those ripples started when we were barely a twinkle in our parents’ eyes.”
Boone lowered his head and tried to focus on the report set out before him on his desk. “So, who’s circling around Grace?” His voice came out gruffer than he’d intended.
“Why don’t you come with me to the Moose Café and find out for yourself?” Declan tossed out the invitation with all the grace of a major-league pitcher. He stood up from his chair, a sly grin etched on his face.
Humph, he thought grumpily. It was classic Declan to dangle a carrot in front of his nose, knowing he could never resist a challenge being thrown down. He’d been doing it ever since they were in the second grade. With a loud groan he surrendered, pushing himself away from his desk and making his way toward his office door. Much to his chagrin, his curiosity had gotten the better of him. Kona cocked her head to the side and proceeded to trail after him. With a quick hand signal and a one-word command, he had Kona settled back down in her dog bed.
With his best friend following behind him, Boone wrenched his office door open and strode down the hall past his bewildered-looking receptionist.
“I thought you were in for the rest of the afternoon,” Shelly called out after him.
“I thought so, too,” he mumbled as he strode out the door and beat a fast path across the street to the Moose Café.
* * *
Cameron beamed with pride as he finished the grand tour and led them back into the main dining area of the café. While they were in the kitchen, Sophie had asked all the right questions—while Grace had been praying that Cameron wouldn’t ask too many questions about their previous work experience as baristas. It was nice to see that Cameron was so gung ho about the Moose Café and all its trimmings. “It sure is beautiful,” Sophie said, her tone brimming with enthusiasm.
“Thanks. It’s my pride and joy. Why don’t the two of you take a seat and I’ll bring you something to eat?” He gestured toward the dining area. The crowd literally parted as they made their way to one of the tables by the window. There were lots of curious stares and hats tipped in their direction. Several men rushed forward to pull their chairs out for them and stick menus in their hands. Sophie was all polite smiles and thank-yous while Grace was still trying to figure out how she was going to wing it as a barista. Thankfully the place was only open six hours a day.
When she went to sit down she found the chair in front of her being wrenched to the left and then to the right. And back again. Two men were having a tug-of-war over the chair. They’d introduced themselves to her and Sophie earlier at the dock, although for the life of her she couldn’t remember either of their names. Henry? Theodore? She held up her hands, prepared to tell both of them to knock it off when they released the chair and began poking each other in the chest.
The sound of a sharp whistle rent the air. “Hey! What’s going on here?” She blinked in surprise to see Sheriff Boone at her side, his arm encircling her back in a protective gesture. He gently pushed her aside before stepping in between the two adversaries. He looked at one, then the other, his expression forbidding. “I hope neither one of you is doing anything that might warrant a trip to the sheriff’s office.” He continued to swing his gaze back and forth between both men. “I think it’s best to shake hands and apologize to the ladies for being overzealous.”
The two men hung their heads, grudgingly shook hands and then mumbled brief words of apology before stepping into the background. Grace almost felt sorry for them. They’d slunk off like polecats.
What in the world had just happened? Had two men actually been fighting over her in an Alaskan coffeehouse?
Boone looked down at his watch and then pointedly back to her. “Congratulations, Miss Corbett. You’ve been in town for less than an hour, and you already have grown men fighting over you.”
Chapter Two (#ulink_2b0ced01-04c8-5b74-bef7-7df78d71db2f)
Heat warmed her cheeks as a result of Sheriff Prescott’s comment. Was she really being blamed for the mayhem that had just erupted? The last thing she wanted was for two local yokels to duke it out for her time and attention. She made a mental note to add this to her column for the Tribune. Men shamelessly brawling over a single woman in a local eating establishment. The sheriff of Love forced to break things up. It was thrilling to see how quickly anecdotes for her articles were beginning to materialize. Yet it was annoying to be blamed for something she’d had no part in.
“I never wanted... I didn’t mean to—” she stammered, instantly losing her composure under the heat of his gaze.
His grin was slow in the making, but bit by bit it broke over his face until it seemed as if it stretched from ear to ear. Brown eyes twinkled. Little crinkles gathered near his eyes. “I’m teasing you. Seth and Thomas fight over every little thing under the sun. If they weren’t fighting over you, it would have been over who was picking up the tab or which one of ’em caught the biggest fish.”
Relief swept through her. For some reason she didn’t want the sheriff to think she was starting trouble on her first day in Love. She smiled back at him, feeling a bit dazzled by his pearly whites and effortless charm. He pulled back her chair and gestured for her to sit down. From her seat across from Grace, Sophie was beaming at Sheriff Prescott as if he’d just achieved world peace. Before she could make the introductions, Sophie stuck out her hand. “Howdy. I’m Sophie Miller. Nice to meet the man who keeps law and order in this town.”
“Sheriff Boone Prescott,” he said, reaching out to shake Sophie’s hand. “I do my best to keep this town orderly.”
Prescott? Prescott? The name was now ringing in her ears. She’d heard that name before ever stepping foot into town. What was it about that name? It was on the tip of her tongue. Ahh, yes!
It was Mayor Jasper Prescott who had written the original article about Love, inviting single women to come to his hometown to find romance and to help solve the woman shortage. It was because of Jasper that she’d come up with the idea to write the column about this town and its residents. Now that she was here, she didn’t know whether to thank him or kick him in the shins.
“Hey,” she said, looking up at Boone. “Are you any relation to Jasper Prescott, the town mayor?”
“He sure is.” A raspy voice sounded over her shoulder. She turned her head to see a white haired, whiskered man beaming at her as if he’d been lit up from the inside with a lightbulb. “I’m his grandfather.” He swung his gaze back and forth between her and Sophie, his expression full of joy. “It’s nice to see that Operation Love is in full effect.” He reached over and clapped his grandson on the shoulder. “So, which one of you two lovely ladies is going to take Boone off the market and make me a great-grandfather again?”
* * *
Boone cringed at his grandfather’s none-too-subtle attempt to get him married off. He shouldn’t be surprised, considering this wasn’t the first time he’d tried to play matchmaker on his behalf. Normally, he had the good manners not to mention great-grandchildren. His brother Liam had already given Jasper those bragging rights when his son Aidan was born. At the moment it didn’t seem to matter to Jasper. This time he was clearly going for broke. In response to his pronouncement, Grace’s blue eyes began to blink like a startled owl while Sophie giggled with delight.
“Settle down now, Jasper,” Boone said, trying to shrug off the waves of embarrassment. He didn’t know why Jasper’s meddling was getting to him, since he usually just shook his head and laughed it off. Perhaps it was because of a certain raven-haired newcomer who’d piqued his interest the moment she’d stumbled into his arms. It had been a long time since he’d cared what a woman thought about him, but strangely enough, it mattered to him in this very moment. He didn’t know why, but Grace Corbett’s opinion mattered.
“Hot food coming through.” The loud announcement preceded Cameron’s appearance at the table. He was carrying a large tray filled with drinks and a wide assortment of food. Was it his imagination or was Cameron now serving a much wider variety of foods than he’d realized? He didn’t remember sandwiches being on the menu, or little pizzas. “Hey, Boone.” Cameron acknowledged him with a nod as he deposited plates brimming with food in front of Sophie and Grace. He placed a steaming mug next to each of their plates. “I thought you’d given up coffee.”
“I didn’t stop drinking coffee, Cam,” he explained for what felt like the tenth time. “I’m just not a big fan of those frothy, foamy drinks you specialize in. They’re all tongue twisters, too. A half cup of mocha latte or an iced caramel macchiato with a twist of cinnamon. I like to know what I’m drinking.”
“Don’t knock ’em. Those specialty drinks have put this place on the map,” Cameron answered, a slight edge to his voice.
Boone chuckled. There was a running joke in his family about the Moose Café saving the town from financial ruin. Although the place was doing well, it was a far cry from being Love’s salvation. Perhaps he didn’t say it very often, but he was proud of the way Cameron had turned his life around and made a full-fledged success of his café. If only they could get back to the way things had been between them before everything had fallen apart right along with the cannery deal.
When Cameron had been swindled by his girlfriend’s father and subsequently lost a great sum of the town’s money, it had been hard to find anyone in town to take up for him. He’d been the town’s whipping boy. Boone had tried to defend his brother, but the more he uncovered about the stolen money, the angrier he’d become at Cameron. He’d been so in love with Paige that he’d made foolish, reckless mistakes. And because of it, the whole town of Love had suffered the financial consequences. They’d exchanged words one evening, taking nasty jabs at each other, which were hard to repair in the light of day. Ever since then things had been shaky between them.
Boone watched as Grace picked up her sandwich with both hands and took a big bite out of it. She let out a sigh of appreciation. “This is delicious,” she raved, placing her hand over her mouth as she spoke. She swallowed and took another bite.
“What is it?” Sophie asked, taking a daintier bite of her sandwich. “It’s yummy.”
“Smoked turkey breast with fresh avocado, some crispy bacon and a blue-cheese spread. I’m expanding the menu to attract more culinary-minded customers.”
Jasper waved his hand in the air and plunked himself down in one of the empty chairs. He propped his elbows on the table and said, “Enough about the menu. I want to know what Sophie and Grace think about our little village.”
“They’ve only been here for an hour,” Boone said, shooting his grandfather a warning look. “Let them settle in before you subject them to the grand inquisition.”
Cameron shook his head and threw his hands in the air. “I’ve got to take some orders. Hazel must be swamped in the kitchen.”
Hazel Tookes, owner of the Black Bear Cabins, was a beloved figure in town. In her late sixties, she was an honorary auntie to the Prescott brothers. With her silver hair and piercing green eyes, she was a striking figure. Over the years she’d picked up a lot of the slack in his parents’ absence. Hazel came in a few times a week to help out Cameron in the kitchen and to waitress.
Sophie jumped up from her chair, an eager expression stamped on her face. She bit her lip. “I’d like to make myself useful behind the counter. I’m pretty good at making drinks.”
Cameron shoved his hand through his hair and looked around at the crowd. “That would be great. With all these people in here, I can use all the help I can get.”
Boone’s brother sent him a commiserating look as he walked away with Sophie. They both knew the drill. Jasper was about to start pontificating about the benefits of living in Love, Alaska.
“Forgive me. I’m getting ahead of myself.” Jasper reached for Grace’s hand and raised it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on it. “I met Miss Miller earlier on the pier, so I’m assuming you must be Grace Corbett from New York. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’d be happy if you called me Jasper.”
So his hunch about Grace had been correct. She was a city girl, hailing all the way from the Big Apple. Boone deposited himself in the chair vacated by Sophie. He didn’t dare leave his grandfather alone with Grace. There was no telling what nonsense might come out of his mouth that might send her on the first seaplane back to Anchorage. The very thought of her leaving caused a trickle of discomfort to flow through him.
Jasper continued. “Welcome to Love, my dear. May your journey be one of discovery.”
Grace crinkled her nose. “Discovery?”
“Isn’t that what brought you here?” Jasper asked. “A need to find out more about yourself and the world around you?”
Grace shrugged. “In your article you said there was a need for women here in Love. That’s why I’m here. Not sure about the discovery part.”
Jasper chuckled, a low rumble emanating from his chest. “Don’t worry, Grace. I’m seventy-five years old, but I’m still on the trail of several discoveries. Town legend says that a wise leader will find rivers of gold. I’m aiming to be that leader.”
“Legend? What legend?” Grace leaned forward in her seat, her blue eyes dancing with excitement. There was such a sweet look of rapture etched on Grace’s face. For a moment she resembled a small child who’d been promised the sun, sky and moon.
A slow hiss escaped Boone’s lips. “Don’t get him started,” he warned in a low voice. He shook his head at Jasper. “You’re treading on thin ice.”
Jasper leaned in toward Grace, his voice lowering to a stage whisper. “There’s treasure hidden in Love, buried here by one of our ancestors after the Gold Rush. I’m determined to find it. Not for selfish gain, but for the betterment of this town and our community.”
Boone could still hear every word his grandfather uttered, even though Jasper was doing his best to whisper. Although it wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before, he felt as if he was absorbing it anew through Grace’s perspective. She could be thinking he was a lovable curmudgeon or a raving lunatic. It could go either way.
Grace’s mouth now hung open. Boone couldn’t tell whether she was incredulous or impressed by Jasper’s fanciful tale of gold, hidden treasure and his determination to find it.
“You have a standing invitation to come by my office any time you like and get a personal tour of Love.” He winked at her. “And I might just let you come treasure hunting with me.”
Grace wagged her finger at him. “You better not be teasing me. It sounds like a wonderful adventure. I’m looking forward to it.”
Jasper slowly got to his feet and nodded his head in Grace’s direction. “I have to get back to my office and sign a few ordinances. It has truly been a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Watching his grandfather shuffle away filled Boone’s heart with a mixture of pride and sadness. Jasper wasn’t getting any younger, and his physical decline in recent years had been noticeable. Despite suffering a heart attack a year ago and dealing with chronic arthritis, Jasper still continued to proudly serve as mayor. He’d been serving in that capacity for nearly two decades. Even though Boone thought “Operation Love” was an over-the-top, desperate tactic, he admired Jasper’s passion and the way he’d put himself out there for the world to see, warts and all. Sometimes he worried about his own inability to step out on the ledge and take a risk. For so long now, everything in his life had been nice and comfortable. What was it his father used to say? “No risk, no reward.”
Silence settled over the table in the wake of Jasper’s departure. What now? Idle chitchat? Meaningless conversation? How about this bone-chilling Alaska weather we’re having? Do you come to coffee bars often? He was so out of practice making conversation with an attractive woman, it was downright pitiful. Perhaps he could use a few pointers from his grandfather, who hadn’t skipped a beat in his discussion with Grace.
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 (#ulink_5fca75ac-ae3b-5972-943f-344042ca4dbf)
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.
Boone reached out and gently touched her chin, lifting it up so that their eyes met. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Just speaking a plain truth.”
“Thank you. Not just for the compliment, but for coming out here to assist me. Now I can close my eyes tonight without having to worry.”
He shifted from one foot to another. “I should be getting back to town,” Boone said as he gestured toward the door. “You must be tuckered out.”
Grace trailed behind Boone as he ambled outside. Once he reached the porch, he turned toward her, his expression difficult to read.
She looked past him, distracted by the brilliant stars peeking out through a midnight sky. She let out a surprised cry. “Oh, it’s stunning,” she gasped. Boone turned his head and looked up. In profile his face appeared softer somehow and a little more vulnerable. He didn’t look quite so tough at the moment.
“That it is.” He turned back to her, studying her face for a moment. “Night, Grace. Get some rest.”
She moved toward the doorway of her cabin, unable to resist turning back one last time to wave at Boone as he revved his engine and disappeared down the lane.
As she settled in for the night a feeling of discomfort trickled through her. Boone had been so nice to come to her rescue this evening. Even though he’d been a bit prickly at first, he seemed like a good guy. It didn’t feel great to make him believe she was in town as a participant in Operation Love. It felt like a lie. She shut her eyes tight and pressed her head against the pillow, determined to get a restful sleep.
One thought rattled around her brain as she drifted off to slumber. No one and nothing was going to get in her way of achieving her professional goals, not even a too-handsome-for-his-own-good sheriff who made her weak in the knees just by glancing in her direction.
Chapter Four (#ulink_852e8bfe-976f-5dfb-8ca5-077c1a8011f5)
Grace woke up to a clanging sound resounding in her ears. For a moment a sense of disorientation hung over her like a heavy fog until she remembered—she was in Alaska! Bleary-eyed, she jammed her feet into her rabbit slippers, shuffled over to the front door and pulled it wide open. A gust of cold air blasted her in the face. A brilliant blue sky beckoned. Church bells were ringing!
When she crossed the threshold of her cabin, a slight rustling sound caught her attention. At her feet sat a pretty blue envelope, the color of a robin’s egg. Her name jumped out at her in big bold letters. Grace picked up the envelope and brushed off the snow that had settled on top of it. Using her nail, she slit it open and took out the cream-colored card inside.
Grace,
If you’re still interested in a tour of Love, I can pick you up at the Moose Café after your shift ends at two o’clock. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll assume you’re game to explore...and hear about a legend or two.
Fondly,
Jasper Prescott
Yes! Score! She put the letter up to her lips and kissed it. A tour of Love would allow her to get an overview of the town she would be writing about. Although she’d done a little research prior to coming to town, there was nothing more invigorating than going out in the field and experiencing it for herself. Since Jasper Prescott was the one who’d coined the phrase Operation Love and written the original article about this lovelorn town, she considered it serendipity that he would be the one to show her around. It would be an added bonus if he told her about the legend. That would certainly give her something to write about!
Standing out on the porch in her robe and pj’s felt surreal. Shivering, she looked around her, half expecting to see Primrose scampering through the brush. It was an incredibly beautiful vista. Huge mountains dominated the horizon. It almost felt as if she could reach out and touch them. She breathed in the fresh, pristine air, noticing for the first time that she had a partial view of the bay. The clouds sat in the sky like fluffy cotton balls. Everything felt so crisp and clean.
Grace threw back her head and extended her arms in the air. “Hello, world,” she cried out, half expecting to hear an echo bounce back at her. It was the oddest feeling to be standing on her porch in Love, Alaska, communing with nature. Odd, yet refreshing at the same time. She hadn’t expected to feel this rush of excitement thrumming through her veins. Truthfully, she hadn’t been all that intrigued by Alaska, although she’d jumped at the opportunity to be entrusted with this series. It was quite a professional coup. Nevertheless, the forty-ninth state had never been on her list of places to visit, nor had she been aware of all its charm and raw beauty.
She always felt a burst of adrenaline whenever she began laying the groundwork for a story. Being here in Love, Alaska—a world far removed from what she was used to—heightened the thrill of it all. It made the normal challenges of her profession that much more difficult. And that much more exciting.
Grace’s love of journalism had been sparked at the age of nine by her grandfather. Fred Corbett had been a businessman with a seat on the New York Stock Exchange. While he was ruthless in the boardroom, he was a teddy bear with his only granddaughter. Every time Grace visited his penthouse apartment on the Upper East Side, he’d asked her to bring him the newspaper from the foyer table. Dutifully, each and every time, Grace had brought him the furled copy of the New York Tribune.
“Read me the headlines, Gracie. Tell me what’s going on in the world today,” he’d instructed her in his signature booming voice. He’d sat back in his velvet-cushioned chair, closed his eyes and waited for her to begin.
Grace had read her grandfather the Tribune’s headlines and, in the process, fallen in love with the written word and the stories that made the world go round. Some of the stories made her want to cry, while others educated her about politics and global issues.
Wonderful job, Gracie. Knowing about the world around you is a powerful thing. Thanks for bringing the world to my doorstep today.
Her grandfather’s praise had felt as warm as summer sunshine on her face. He’d made her feel like the most important person in the world, if only for those few minutes she’d held the newspaper in her hands and read aloud to him. It had been the first time in her life anyone had made her feel important. From that point forward she’d devoured the daily newspaper the way some kids gobbled down candy. The stories she uncovered between the pages of the newspaper served as fuel for her dreams. And she’d never forgotten the feeling of having the world at her fingertips. Moving hearts and minds with the power of her words never failed to amaze her.
At the sound of a door being opened, Grace turned toward Sophie’s cabin. “Morning, Grace. It’s our official first day of work. I’m so tickled. I could barely sleep last night.” Sophie crossed her hands prayerfully, the same way Grace had done on Christmas morning when she was a child.
Bless her. Perhaps Sophie’s enthusiasm about working at the Moose Café would rub off on her.
She waved at her new friend. “Hey, Sophie. Isn’t the view beautiful?”
Sophie vigorously nodded her head. “It’s almost as pretty as the bluebirds back in Saskell.” Grace smiled. It was surprising Sophie had left Saskell in the first place. Every time she mentioned her hometown, Sophie lit up like the Fourth of July. What had made her come all the way to Alaska? She was the most lovable woman in the world. And beautiful. Surely she could have found love in Saskell, Georgia?
Not for the first time, Grace wondered why Sophie looked so familiar to her. As a journalist, she had a great memory for faces. This feeling of recognition wouldn’t go away. It had been nagging at her since the flight over from Anchorage.
“Sophie, have we met before? Perhaps back in New York?”
Sophie’s eyes widened. “N-no, ma’am. I don’t think so. I didn’t live in New York for long.”
“Not a fan of big cities?” she asked. She was having a hard time picturing Sophie living in New York. She seemed like a country girl at heart. A real Georgia peach.
“I enjoyed visiting the Big Apple, but my heart never found a home there,” Sophie said, her voice sounding wistful.
Hmm. Grace supposed she had her answer right there. Sophie’s heart was looking for a home, and she’d come to Love in pursuit of it. Not surprisingly, Sophie’s motives were way more noble than her own. She brushed that thought aside. There was no way she was going to let that knowledge eat at her.
After joining Hazel for blueberry pancakes and scrambled eggs at the Lodge, they headed to work at the Moose Café, with Hazel again at the wheel. It had snowed overnight, and as Grace looked around at her surroundings, she felt as if she was living in a true winter wonderland.
They’d barely stepped through the café’s door before Cameron was handing out schedules and giving them each an additional uniform. Grace raised an eyebrow at the image of two moose kissing surrounded by a big red heart. She didn’t know what vibe Cameron was aiming for, but this T-shirt resembled something a teenager might wear.
Cameron rubbed his hands together. He looked as if he was about to jump out of his skin. “Okay. Let’s hit the ground running today.” He looked back and forth between them. “Sophie, why don’t you take the orders and act as hostess while Grace makes the drinks? Some customers just come in for regular coffee and pastries, so be ready to fill up cups, Sophie. Grace, we already have a customer looking for a mochaccino. I’ll head back to the kitchen with Hazel and prepare the food.”
“Yes, indeed. Sounds like a plan,” Grace said, trying to make her voice sound as upbeat as Sophie’s. Fake it till you make it. That was her motto.
“Here, Grace.” Cameron handed her two slips of paper. “Hank comes in early for drinks to bring over to the firehouse. Extra whip on ’em, okay?”
“Got it!” Grace said, looking down at the slips for confirmation of the orders. One mochaccino. Four iced caramel macchiatos. Extra whipped cream.
She let out a sigh. It could have been much worse. At least it was the same drink times four. All she had to do was make two batches of caramel macchiato and serve ’em up in to-go cups. Then one batch of the mocha. There was a cheat sheet on the counter detailing all the ingredients in the most popular drinks. Thank You, God.
Everything stilled around her for a moment. It had been a long time since she’d thanked God for something. Matter of fact, before arriving in Love, she hadn’t thought about God at all for a very long time. They were at a stalemate. In her darkest hours He hadn’t answered her prayers, so she’d decided to ignore Him in return.
“You can do this, Grace,” she said out loud, deciding on positive affirmations to get her through this situation.
One by one she assembled the items and placed them in the blender. Grace stared at the contents she’d placed inside. Okay, this wasn’t so bad after all. It had never been her strong suit, but it wasn’t rocket science. She might be a little slow putting all the ingredients together, but this was looking good. Chewing her lip, she considered all the buttons on the blender, finally deciding to push the biggest one. Nothing. She waited a few beats and pressed again. Why wasn’t this thing working?
She bit her lip as she studied the machine. It wasn’t that different from the ones she’d used at Java Giant. Maybe a few more bells and whistles, but it had been four years since she’d worked for them. No doubt technology had advanced since then.
“Everything okay back here?”
The sound of Boone’s husky voice swept over her like a strong gust of wind. She wanted to let out a loud groan. Of course! It would have to be Boone of all people to discover her in a state of utter confusion. What was he doing here anyway? The crime rate must be pretty low in this town if he could hang out so regularly at his brother’s establishment.
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Belle Calhoune
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: A Town Called Love Reporter Grace Corbett has the lead of a lifetime. The city girl moves to Love, Alaska, where the mayor′s «Operation Love» is matching women from across the country with hunky Alaskan men. Grace pretends to be a woman looking for romance, and her act gets a lot easier when she starts to fall for rugged sheriff Boone Prescott. Grace vowed she′d never let herself love again, but in cold and beautiful Alaska, her heart is thawing for Boone. Still, to win the lawman she′ll have to confess everything…and hope that Operation Love can manage one more happy ending.