Holt’s not just my boss. He’s my friend—a far more honorable friend than Gavin ever was—and he’s fought too hard to make things right for me to drag him over to the dark side.
“I don’t think you’d be a good fit,” I bite off.
“I don’t have to be.” Instead of getting angry, Gavin just gives me that world weary look again. “Just a few months. One season. Just enough to get a little scratch under my belt to start over. I swear I’ll keep looking for postings up in Fairbanks in the meantime, but I need money. Later won’t help my girl or my kid here in the now.”
Fuck my life.
I hate that I’m so soft sometimes.
Trouble is, he really looks like a broken man. And the Gavin I knew never would’ve attacked me that way unless he was desperate, I tell myself, no matter how sour things went between us.
He must be telling the truth, or else I’ll have to kick my own ass every which way for what I’m about to say.
“Can’t make you any promises,” I mutter warily. “But I’ll make a phone call—one time—and put a word in with the boss. You’ve still got to interview and prove to him you can do the job.”
Gavin perks, his eyes lighting in a way that tells me maybe I did a good deed.
Maybe I made the right decision.
“That’s all I need,” he says breathlessly. “Just a chance. I’ll do the rest myself.” His lips split into a grin. “Thanks, Pax. You always were a good guy.”
Pax.
That nickname feels like an old name better suited for an old life, but I let it slide off me.
“Sure,” I say. “No problem.”
“You won’t regret it.”
As I watch him moving off along the trails, back toward the main park areas, keeping my eyes glued to him, I swallow a growl.
I hope he’s right.
Something keeps nagging at me, too, long after he’s out of sight.
How did he know to find me here?
The question’s still bothering me by the time the kids tumble into the car, sweaty and dirty and high on preteen adrenaline, for the drive home.
There’s chatter about the summer festival coming up, and although I’m only half tuned in, I catch Eli boasting that he can probably get Tara and Zach free candy from the booth run by The Nest and Sweeter Things—since his dad’s girlfriend will be there, after all.
“Hey, now. Miss Felicity’s not my girlfriend,” I sputter, eyeing the mess of giggling faces in the back in the rearview mirror.
“Oh, come on, Dad,” Eli says slyly, grinning mischievously at Zach.
Tara snickers.
“You sound just like Uncle War and Auntie Hay. They were all...” She twirls her fingers, rolling her eyes. “Oh noooo, I don’t like you at all, you big stupid grumpy-grump.” She beams at me in the mirror, smiling smugly. “And now they’re married and trying to set a record for cute babies.”
“Ugh, my mom and dad were like that, too, even though they’d been together before. I mean, I didn’t get here through asexual reproduction.” Zach lets out a very grown-up sigh, looking at me solemnly in the mirror past his round glasses. He’s a very serious boy, talking like a little adult. “I don’t understand why grown-ups play these games.”
Heavy observation from a smart young man.
Even if I feel like I’m about to explode with embarrassment, I can’t help but laugh.
The kid has no clue the games Felicity and I are playing.
Then again, do we?
We’ve been pretending to date, but that kiss felt pretty real, and I can’t help but wonder what kind of games we’re playing by denying it. Or games I’m playing, rather, when I can’t assume how she feels.
Still, I’d love to know the ground rules.
Maybe the festival would be the time to find out with both of us there.
What’s more romantic than a night out under the stars with fireworks?
15
The Golden Touch (Felicity)
I should be a squishy little pile of misery right now.
So many things towering over my head like an axe that could fall any second. Danger haunting me and always creeping just over my shoulder. My cousin helping guard millions in mystery loot that could get me, her, Alaska, or all three of us killed—with plenty more good people as collateral damage.
But still, somehow, I find my moments.
Simple pleasures.
Right now, my heart bursts with happiness. I’m watching a gorgeous pink and gold sunset strewn on the horizon, just beyond the outskirts of the festival grounds, while Clarissa counts out so much cash we can’t even fit it all in the lockbox we brought for our booth.
It’s been a pretty good day and a fabulous haul.
The joint booth was definitely a stroke of genius.
Despite a few unfinished odds and ends I need to handle, it feels like things are looking up.
Especially when there’s a giant lunk of gorgeous masculinity standing next to me, watching the same sunset with a secretive smile so peaceful and sly it calms my heart just to see it.
He’s like that, you know.
Wherever Alaska goes, he brings his north star serenity with him.
Like there’s nothing that could ever go wrong as long as he’s there to make sure it’ll all be okay.
I want to reach for his hand.
I want more than just his stone-cold calmness rubbing off.
I want his touch to burn this time.
I want to touch him, period, when my lips still remember too well how he feels and tastes and we haven’t talked about that kiss.
No time, no privacy, no...anything, really.
But yes, I’m terrible for wanting to do it again, and to hell with the consequences.
There’s nothing innocent about the way my breath catches and my pulse leaps as he glances at me with a lazy smile.
“Looks like someone had a good time today,” he rumbles, darting me a wink that flays me open.
“I...yeah. Maybe.” Brushing my hair back, I glance over my shoulder with a laugh. “Apparently coffee and chocolate are a pretty addictive duo. We sold out our booth, and we’ll need to bring more for tomorrow.”
“That’s good news. You make amazing stuff, Felicity. More folks should know about it.” He grins, his teeth bright against his thick black beard. “With all the tourists here, they’ll be talking about The Nest all the way in New York before the month’s out. You could go national. Open chains everywhere.”
“I’d call you crazy, but the Sweeter Grind shop in Chicago is doing pretty well with my beans. There’s a billionaire’s wife totally hooked on their cinnamon lattes made with my blend and she’s given them a lot of love online.” I let out a breathless laugh, pressing a hand to my chest. “Honestly, I’ll settle for making rent and having a few bucks to spare in the bank.”
There it is.
That momentary flicker in his eyes, that wordless reminder of what we both know.
That I’m sitting on so much gold I’d never have to worry about anything for the rest of my life.
And ironically, I can’t dare sell off a single bar—not unless I want that life to be far shorter than intended.