Baby It's Cold Outside Page 7

  Sloan swirled her wine, the ritual of tasting a pleasant diversion from the grilling on her kiss with Walker she knew was still to come. As the first drop hit her tongue, she closed her eyes at the sheer magnificence of the wine. “It’s gorgeous.”

  “Every single time.” Avery leaned forward and poured a full glass for each of them, raising her own glass in their direction. “To a good story and one I hope is rather juicy.”

  On a soft clink, Sloan touched the rim of her glass to theirs, then took another sip, releasing a small sigh as she set her glass back on the counter. “Truly amazing.”

  “That it is.” Avery swirled her glass, holding it up to the light.

  As she took another delicate sip, Sloan’s thoughts tripped over everything that had happened since her arrival. “Avery. Wait a minute. This stuff is like liquid gold. And that’s Chihuly glass in the lobby. What’s going on around here?”

  Avery took a sip of her own wine, but Sloan saw a slight wariness that tightened the corners of her new friend’s mouth. “So we have some nice things. We may be a bit out of the way, but we’re not complete hicks.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting you were. But this is extreme. Come on. This is a thousand-dollar bottle of wine. Most people don’t have this lying around, and if they do, they sure as hell don’t just open it up over a chat. What gives?”

  “What gives is that this is all”—Avery waved a hand to gesture to the room at large—“how Susan’s son assuages his guilt. Expensive gifts that arrive with an alarming degree of regularity.”

  Sloan’s heart turned over as she heard the note of unbearable sadness that tinged Avery’s words. “Roman?”

  “Yes.”

  “And yet you stay here? Near it all?”

  “I do.”

  “But he broke your heart?” Sloan phrased it as a question, but even as the words left her lips she knew it was more of a statement.

  “That he did. But, despite that small fact, I can’t leave.”

  “Sure you can,” Grier urged. “You don’t have to stay here.”

  Avery’s eyes were bright as she stopped staring at the wine in her glass for a few seconds to look up. “Actually, I can’t leave. Maybe someday, but not today. So in the meantime, I’m going to enjoy my Rothschild and my view of the Chihuly glass and my new friends—especially my friend who has a kissing story she’s putting off telling.”

  Sloan knew a closed subject when she heard one and Grier did as well. So they both lifted their glasses toward Avery and smiled.

  “So are you going to keep us in suspense, especially seeing as how I bribed you with this amazing stash?” Avery stared over the rim of her wineglass, whatever sadness that had lingered firmly extinguished in the light of a good gossip session.

  “You can’t possibly want to know the details.”

  “Oh, yes we do.”

  On a long-suffering sigh, Sloan leaned in to tell her story. “It was probably the most amazing kiss I’ve ever had.”

  “Hot?” Grier probed.

  “Sexy?” Avery added.

  “Passionate? Oh, and masterful?”

  “Masterful?” Sloan couldn’t help but giggle at Grier’s adjective. “What have you been reading lately?”

  “You probably don’t want to know. So let’s just say I’ve been in the middle of Alaska for the last month, freezing my ass off during the long winter nights. What do you think I’m reading?”

  Sloan waved a hand. “Say no more.”

  “And I say ‘masterful’ is the right word since you walked in here with a dazed expression on your face and a light blush that can be put there only by someone as supremely masterful as Walker Montgomery.”

  “Actually, I think you had it right before. What was the word? Fuckalicious?” Sloan asked.

  Avery lifted her glass and Grier quickly followed. “Sometimes it’s the only word that fits.” Avery shrugged.

  It was Grier, though, who added the toast. “Amen to that.”

  For about the nine millionth time since her freshman year of high school, Jessica McFarland wondered why she hung around with Trina Detweiler.

  “Buying off the town. As if.” Trina led their merry little parade down Main Street, with her faithful cohort, Sherry, close on her heels. Kate hung back slightly. Even if there wasn’t a physical distance between them, it was clear Kate was a million miles away.

  “I don’t feel bought off,” Jess said reflectively as she brought up the rear. “I just feel buzzed.” She watched as various townsfolk walked down the streets. Avery had kept a close eye on the ones she knew had to drive and cut them off early or enforced designated driver rules. For those who lived within walking distance, the taps had flowed freely.

  “Is that Mr. Rivington peeing against the side of the gas station?” Sherry pointed.

  “That should be illegal, pulling that shriveled old thing out in public.” Trina—ever the soul of logic and kindness—quickly chimed in.

  “He’s old, Trina. He obviously just has to go.” Jessica wasn’t sure why she was defending the guy, especially seeing as how he was technically committing a crime, but something about Trina’s attitude just set her teeth on edge.

  “It’s gross.”

  Unable to let it lie, Jessica pushed back. “Oh, and you vomiting in Mrs. Riley’s rosebushes this past summer after Louise Kent’s bachelorette party was the height of class.”

  “I’m not dignifying that with an answer,” Trina tsked over her shoulder. “However, I do think we need to have a discussion about your loyalty, Jess. Why’d you drink her drinks?”

  “It was me and the rest of the town, in case you missed it. And it was free booze, Trina.” Although she didn’t want to come off as cheap—and she knew she made a solid living compared to much of the rest of the town—it was damn nice to be treated for the evening. “And besides, if you had that big a problem with the whole thing, why’d you even go? Just so you could rub in the fact you bought your own?”

  “It was a strategic choice. Hello, as a lawyer I’d have thought you knew the difference.” Trina let out another huff before whirling around and coming to a dead stop in the middle of the street. “Whose side are you on, anyway?”

  “It’s not about sides, Trina.”

  “Actually, it is. Here Kate is in her time of need and all you can do is side with her sister. It’s hardly fair and it is taking sides.”

  “I’m legally representing her against the estate of their father. I have to act appropriately.”

  “But you don’t have to drink with them.”

  Jessica sighed, not sure how she’d become the villain in this little set piece. “Look. I’m just doing my job.”

  Before Trina could repeat her perspective, Kate stepped up between the two of them. “Trina. Leave it the hell alone.”

  Trina took a few stomping steps backward before glaring at the two of them. “Fat lot of thanks from you. What’s gotten into you tonight, Kate?”

  “Nothing.” Kate sighed and Jessica thought she caught a glimpse of tears filling the corners of her eyes. “Nothing’s gotten into me. I’m just tired and so over this subject. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Whatever. Come on, Sherry. Maguire’s is still open. Let’s head over there. If you two change your minds and decide to find your senses of humor, come join us.”

  Jessica watched the two women stomp off through the snow under the light of the streetlamps that ran down Main Street and wondered when their lives had reverted to the seventh grade. “What’s her problem?”

  “I can’t say that I care.”

  “She’s not being fair.”

  “None of it’s fair.” Kate kicked at a slick of ice on the sidewalk. “Most of all, it’s not fair my father thought ignoring the fact he had another child was the right thing to do. And now he’s dumped me with her.”

  “Kate. He didn’t dump you with anything. He—” Jessica broke off, but both of them knew her next word would have been “died.”

/>   “Actually, he did dump me with her. And based on tonight, it looks like she brought in reinforcements.”

  “Grier’s not bad, Kate. Actually, she’s kind of nice. You might be surprised if you gave her a chance.”

  “Jessica.” Kate shook her head, and this time Jess didn’t miss the sheen of tears—or the few that fell from the woman’s eyes. “I’m not going to like her and nothing you can say will change that. I can appreciate her life is as unpleasant as mine right now, but I’ve spent twenty-six years without a sister and I’m not starting now. And for the record, even if I did accept that I have a sister, I sure as hell don’t want her in my town.”

  “Then why don’t you resolve all this and she’ll leave? I can’t believe she wants to stay here any more than you want her here.”

  “Because she doesn’t deserve anything from a father who didn’t even know her. He was my father. And if I give in, it’s like I’m saying she does.”

  Jessica had seen tough cases, but there was something wrong with Kate’s insistence that her sister deserved no part of their father’s estate. “That’s not for you to say.”

  “If not me, then who?”

  Kate moved on ahead and Jess realized she really didn’t want to follow her. Although she’d known Kate Winston since they’d both been small, their four-year age difference had ensured they really hadn’t gotten to know each other until they were both older. Add in the current situation and all Jess could stomach was a small moment of sympathy, mixed with a huge wash of annoyance as she watched the younger woman walk away.

  “Fuck.”

  A discreet cough from several feet behind her had Jess whirling around. Her heartbeat sped up immediately, but she honestly couldn’t blame it on being startled. “Oh. Jack. Hi.”

  Jack Rafferty, widower and “the-man-who-would-never-love-again,” as Jess had dubbed him, was illuminated by the light of the streetlamp, a small smile ghosting his lips. “That’s not a very ladylike word.”

  A weak laugh escaped her. “It’s not a very ladylike situation.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  Jessica’s eyes roved over his face. His head was covered with a knit cap and the layers of fabric insulating him from the cold gave him the same padded look as everyone else in town, but she still felt her pulse throb. “I suppose you saw the drama back at the hotel, only reinforcing the reason for my unladylike remark.”

  “Me and half the town. Most people haven’t been crazy about Kate’s attitude in all this, but they’ve gone along out of loyalty. After tonight . . . well, I’d say Grier made an impression. A good one, too.”

  “Getting to know her tonight makes it that much harder for them to ignore her.”

  “They already know they shouldn’t ignore one of their own. Tonight added that sweet touch of guilt that will ensure they don’t any longer.”

  Jessica stared down at her boots, then caught herself and brought her gaze back up. Damn it, why did he always make her tongue-tied? “I hope so. Grier deserves better.”

  “I doubt if Kate agrees with you.” Jack glanced in the direction in which the woman had taken off. “And I don’t know if anyone’s going to be able to change her mind.”

  “Grief makes people do funny things, I guess.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Jessica wanted to bite her tongue off. Jack Rafferty knew exactly what grief did to people. “Well, I’d better get home. Good night, Jack.”

  He didn’t say anything else, just nodded at her, his big gray eyes clouded in mystery as he stared at her.

  As Jess walked away, she wondered if Jack was watching her. Despite the curiosity, she resisted the urge to turn around, afraid he’d already moved on.

  Chapter Six

  “That’s not warm enough, Sloan. If you’re not padded like the Michelin Man, you’re not going to be warm enough.” Avery flung a coat at her from an overstuffed rack that looked like it belonged in Mrs. Claus’s closet.

  “I’m going to look ginormous.” Sloan held up the thickly padded coat that resembled a down comforter and sighed. “At least it’s black.”

  “Oh, give in, Sloan,” Grier shouted from a nearby rack of ski sweaters. “It’s cold and everyone looks the exact same. It beats having your extremities turn black and fall off due to frostbite.”

  Sloan shivered at the unpleasant image, even as she knew Grier had a point. “Fine, fine, fine.” She dragged her arms through the sleeves as the shop’s proprietor, Sandy Dunbar, walked over.

  “Can I help you gals with anything?”

  “Hey, Sandy.” Avery’s voice held the comfort of a lifetime of knowing each other as she greeted the shop owner. “We’re just outfitting Sloan properly for her stay here in Indigo.”

  Sandy picked up a colorful scarf off a nearby accessories table, the gleam of a sale in her eyes. “I saw that wool coat you were wearing last night, dear. It’s just not warm enough for Alaska.”

  “I’ve quickly come to the same conclusion.” Sloan offered up a rueful smile as her eyes alighted on Grier across the room.

  With an inspiration born of years of shopping, Sloan made her move. “Oh, Grier. Bring that sweater over here. I love how it complements your eyes.”

  Sloan saw Avery’s eyebrows shoot up where she stood behind Sandy, but she caught on quickly. “Yeah, Grier. Grab the lavender one, too.”

  The previous evening had gone a long way toward helping Grier make some allies in town, but there was nothing like full-on support of a business—and a little gossip with the owner—to cement the relationship. With Avery as their sponsor and Sloan and Grier’s credit cards picking up the rear, they were sure to win a loyal ally over to their side.

  “It’s a beautiful shade.” Grier held up the sweater as she walked toward them.

  “I knit it myself,” Sandy added in a proud voice.

  Avery’s smile widened like the Cheshire cat and Sloan knew—with such certainty that she would bet every last penny in her bank account—their hometown girl had known that little tidbit, too.

  “It’s gorgeous, Sandy.” Although Sloan felt a small shot of remorse at her battle tactics, it was fleeting. The sweater was gorgeous and the expert knit meant Grier would have the piece for a long time to come. “And, Grier, you need both of those.”

  Grier’s eyes widened before one dropped into a wink. “I need a scarf to match.”

  “Oh, well, then come on over here, dear.” Sandy waved her over. “I have the perfect shade to match your eyes.”

  Sloan stared at the breakfast menu at the Indigo Café and ordered the short stack and bacon along with her black coffee. She’d never have considered the carb-laden meal at home, instead opting for her usual egg-white omelet, but for some reason, the fresh, cold morning air made her feel like pancakes.

  Although she was initially surprised Sandy’s shop opened so early, Avery had explained that they tried to take advantage of the daylight and most of the stores got going early and then shut by midafternoon.

  Whatever the reason, Sloan took in the crowded café as she looked up from her menu. She could eat her breakfast satisfied she’d made another inroad on Operation Grier this morning.

  And now it was time for a little reconnaissance as she ate her pancakes.

  Some mixing with the locals would let her know how successful she’d been the previous evening. Especially since the object of their previous hostility had gone back to their hotel to nurse her hangover.

  With a smile for her departing waitress and her first sip of coffee, Sloan took in her surroundings. The café was clearly the place to be at eight on a weekday morning. The tables were packed and there was the loud hum of happy, optimistic conversation.

  As an idea formed, Sloan scratched down the words “town life,” “slice of life,” “day in the life” in her ever-present notebook. No reason she couldn’t jot down a few notes on her freelance piece. She could see it now. She’d open the piece talking about the daily life in Indigo and then segue into the craziness that beca
me the town during the competition.

  At least she assumed it would be crazy.

  The enthusiasm for the event would have to leave a mark. It was up to her to capture it, before and after, pre and post.

  Warming up to her subject, she realized the idea really did have legs. What if there was even a wedding or two out of the whole thing? She could come back in the spring and do a follow-up piece.

  “Ms. Sloan? Do you mind if I sit down?”

  Sloan was pulled from her musings by the sweet voice and even sweeter smile of the man who’d hollered in her and Walker’s direction the evening before. “Of course. Please sit down.”

  The large man sat, his hand extended across the table. “I’m Bear.”

  “I’m Sloan.”

  Another broad smile cracked his face. “I know.”

  The idea that this stranger did know who she was gave her pause before she brushed it off. She might enjoy anonymity in a city of eight million, but there was just no such thing as anonymity in Indigo, Alaska, population seven hundred and twelve.

  As she pushed aside her city-girl distrust, another thought took its place.

  “So, Bear.” Sloan leaned forward with the air of a coconspirator. “I realize we just met, but I need to ask you a question.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Does everyone in this town have a nickname?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Sloan almost laughed at the confusion stamped across his face, but decided to chalk it up to research and kept up the questions. “Well, everyone I’ve met seems to go under a name I find very hard to believe is written on their birth certificate. You. Skate. Chooch and Hooch. What’s up with it?”

  A few women sitting in the booth behind them had overheard because they turned and chimed in. Sloan recognized them from the hotel lobby but couldn’t conjure names out of the soup of introductions she’d had the evening before. “It just sort of happens,” the smaller brunette said.