Читать книгу An Alaskan Wedding - Belle Calhoune - Страница 11
ОглавлениеGrace 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 the sheriff of Love. 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.”
