Mary’s sharp gaze narrowed at the comment. “Yes, he did. You noticed?”
“No, ma’am, I can’t say that I did. But someone else I know certainly noticed.”
The sharp blue of Mary’s eyes—a perfect match in shade to her grandson’s—widened in what Sloan couldn’t help but think of as pleasure. “Would that someone happen to be your dear friend?”
“Why, yes it is.” Sloan leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper. “If it makes you feel any better, I told her what a royal idiot she’s being.”
A long, low sigh escaped from Mary on her next breath. “My grandson hasn’t been all that clever himself, truth be told.”
“You think they’ll figure it out?”
“I sure as hell hope so. I’ve never seen that boy so turned out over anything except an airplane.”
Sloan couldn’t hold back the laughter. “Maybe we’ll keep that comparison to ourselves.”
“That’s probably wise, my dear.”
“It’s beautiful in here. Surely you, Julia and Sophie didn’t do all this?”
A light blush suffused Mary’s features and a delighted smile spread through the wrinkles of her cheeks. “We look forward to it all year long. And while we need more help than we used to, we’ve got a hand in most everything you see.”
“You all really love this, don’t you?”
“We’d love it more if it got us granddaughters-in-law.”
A loud laugh rumbled up before Sloan could stop it. “I have to say, that’s what I like about all of you. You’re so subtle.”
Mary waved a hand. “Subtlety’s for the young, my girl. I’m an old woman and I need to make every minute count.”
Before she could say anything else, Mary was flagged down by what appeared to be one of the caterers—one of the kids from the high school—and tottered off on her high heels to deal with it.
As she continued her walk around the room, snapping photos of whatever caught her attention, Mary’s words kept echoing in her head.
I need to make every minute count
.
She’d done that up here in Alaska. After marking time for what felt like forever, for the first time she was finally
living
.
And suddenly, the thought of going back home was simply stifling.
Grier stepped off the elevator and silence greeted her from the direction of the lobby.
The festivities must already be getting underway.
Even though the only people allowed into the auction were the bachelors, the bachelorettes and those helping out, the doors would open later, allowing anyone else who wanted to attend the postauction dance to show up.
Grier suspected the entire town was home getting gussied up.
Which was exactly what she needed for what she wanted to do.
It was a calculated risk as she might see someone on the street, but it was a risk she was willing to take. Besides, if she missed the entire auction, Sloan would come back to find her.
Which was small and petty of her, but damn it, she wasn’t nine. She didn’t need a talking to. And she certainly didn’t need her past thrown in her face.
Even if Sloan had suffered through each and every degrading moment of that past right by her side.
Nope. She had to do this and it was time to make her move.
She’d thought about it for the last few weeks and any way she looked at it, she came to the same conclusion. The law was taking far too long.
With Sloan’s words ringing in her ears like the aftereffects of a rock concert, Grier moved out of the elevator and heard the light swish of the doors closing behind her like a punctuation mark.
She
deserved
to be first.
And since someone
had
put her first, it was time to make her move.
The lobby was so quiet she could hear the whispered murmurs of conversation floating from the office behind the check-in desk. She was convinced they could hear her pounding heart all the way back there, but no one came out—or even noticed her—as she walked out of the hotel.
Cold air whipped around her as she made her way down Main Street, crossing over several streets before she came to the intersection she needed.
Spruce.
Her father had lived on Spruce Street.
She counted the houses although it was unnecessary. The front of the house she was looking for was emblazoned in her memory from the first time she’d looked up at it a month ago.
Her father had lived here.
An imagined presence in her life until six weeks ago, he was now tangible.
He had had a life here.
And a family.
And only in death had he thought to include her in any of it.
Grier stopped in front of the house. It was a small A-frame with bright blue shutters and a curving walkway that led up to the front door.
A home.
The tears started without warning, leaving cold tracks on her cheeks that only added to the bite from the night wind.
Stomping her way through the snow up the unshov-eled walkway, she reached the door and shook her boots off on the small mat in front of the door. Digging out the key she’d pilfered from Walker’s desk the day before, she inserted it into the lock. With trembling hands, she turned the key.
Grier felt the tumblers give way and reached for the door handle.
And promptly screamed as one hand came down on her shoulder while another slammed over the hand she had on the doorknob.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Me?” she screamed as she whirled around on Mick. “What the fuck are you doing sneaking up on a woman in the dark?”
“I think it’s a different story when that woman is about to commit a felony,” he shot back at her.
“It can’t be more than a misdemeanor,” she volleyed back, her racing heart shifting from the adrenaline of fear to the heavy thud of desire. Damn it, did the man bathe in pheromones?
“Who gives a fuck, Grier? It’s illegal. Especially since you’re not allowed to be here. And I suspect that key’s not yours either.”
She didn’t miss the fact that he’d moved one hand on the doorframe, right next to her head. She also didn’t miss how his blue eyes blazed in the ambient light that reflected from the street—the porch lights from other houses and one lone streetlamp at the end of Spruce. “Um. Well.”
“Why are you here?” He reached up to brush the cold tears from her face, running the tip of his finger first across one cheek, then across the other. A shiver ran the length of her spine as need flared to life in her belly.
“You really don’t know?” she whispered.
As he finished wiping the tears away, a small smile crossed his face that she couldn’t help but hope was a grudging look of respect. “You actually stole the key?”
“I
borrowed
it. I was going to put it back.”
“After what? After traipsing through Jonas’s house when you’re not supposed to be anywhere near it?”
Conviction gave her voice strength as she tried to convince him. “It’s my father’s house. And he willed it to me. I wanted to see the inside.”
“So ask Walker to get you a tour.”
“I have asked and this place is locked up tight thanks to the injunction Kate got before I was able to get up here. Besides, I figured tonight was the perfect night to do it. Everyone’s attention is elsewhere and I can get in and out unnoticed.” She slammed her hands on her hips as a new thought assailed her. “Speaking of which, what are you doing here and what are you doing sneaking up on me?”
“I saw you leave the hotel and I followed you.”
“You could have told me you were following me.”
The slight grin morphed to decidedly cocky and Grier felt her heart simply turn over.
“And miss out on watching your cute ass, Little Miss Felony?”
“That is entirely inappropriate.”
Mick leaned in, his lips a hairsbreadth from her ear. “And entirely true.”
“Mick—” She broke off, completely unsure of what to say. Half of her wanted to run as fast and as far as her legs would carry her.
And the other half wanted to turn toward him, press her lips to his, wrap her arms around him and never let go.
“Why did you leave?”
“Technically, you left and I cried.”
“Grier. You know what I mean.”
“Come on, Mick. You know what this is. Let’s not pretend it’s something more. Or that it can be something more.” The words burned on her tongue as she said them, because she knew the truth.
Knew that what was between them was more.
A lot more
.
“Why can’t it?” He leaned in and she felt her resistance take another hit as the urge to agree with him nearly knocked the breath out of her.
“You live in Alaska.”
“People live lots of places. It doesn’t stop them from being together.”
“My life is a raging mess right now. Even my own sister”—her breath hitched on the word—“doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
“She’ll come around.”
Just like her father had? Sure, it was easy to “come around” after you were dead. No messy emotions that way. No need for explanations.
“No, Mick, she won’t.”
“Grier.” Her name fell easily from his lips and she knew—knew with everything she was—that this man would love her in ways beyond her wildest imaginings.
So why couldn’t she let him?
Before she could decide, he took the matter out of her hands. On a heavy sigh, he closed the distance, leaned in and touched his lips to hers, using his free hand to wrap tight around her shoulders and pull her close.
Growling against her lips, he whispered in a ragged voice, “God, woman, what you do to me.”
Lost to him, she lifted her face to his and drank him in.
It had been less than a week since they were together, but as his lips ravaged hers, Grier had to admit it felt like a lifetime.
The kiss went on and on like an erotic dream she never wanted to wake up from.
Who knew just kissing could be so incredibly wonderful?
His lips slid over hers as his tongue pressed along the seam. With long, lazy strokes that made her feel they had all the time in the world his tongue mated with hers. Despite the patient assault, he kept raising the stakes, driving them both toward something more.
Wanting more. Taking more.
Needing
more.
What was she doing?
Breaking into the home of her late father. Making out on his front porch with a man who lived a world away from her. Risking her heart when she had no business doing so.
Ever
.
On a breathless cry, Grier broke away.
“Oh God, Mick. God.” She wiped at her swollen lips, the hot prick of tears again threatening behind her eyes and tightening her throat. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But I can’t do this.”
The confusion in his gaze gave her the opening she needed to put distance between them.
And the moment she had enough distance not to give in and let him wrap her up in his arms, she ran.
Walker chaffed at the ridiculous rules the grandmothers had instituted for the bachelor auction. Obviously, he’d been a fool to think they’d let him ride roughshod over their event, but this was taking things too far.
When he’d complained about it, he got a sweet pat on the cheek from his grandmother and a hearty, “You’ve had all day to check out the bachelorettes. It’s their turn to do some ogling.”
He’d refrained from bitching about the fact that there was only one bachelorette he was interested in seeing— he couldn’t quite bring himself to so readily admit defeat to Sophie Montgomery.
Even if he was so far gone there was little hope for him.
He knew he’d been falling since the moment he’d laid eyes on her at the town hall, but their postcompetition romp had sealed it. He couldn’t deny it any longer.
He was in love with Sloan McKinley.
And it was nothing like what he’d expected.
“Tommy and Chuck are organizing a jail break.” Roman’s voice intruded on his musings and he turned to stare at his old friend.
“You all right?”
“Yeah. Sure.” Walker took a long pull on his beer. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know. You had this faraway look in your eyes. The sort of look guys get when they’ve taken a hard check that lands them on their head on the ice.”
“I don’t see a rink.”
“Figure of speech, buddy.”
“Whatever. I’m fine.”
Walker glanced around the room. He, Roman and the rest of the bachelors had been closeted in a small meeting room in the back of the auditorium, hidden from view of the bachelorettes.