WILD MEN OF ALASKA

chapter ELEVEN

“Wow, that’s some heavy shit,” Hansen said, relaxing on his favorite rock.

“Freaky, if you ask me,” Lucky answered, worrying the back of his neck. He’d just returned and reported everything he’d heard about “his” Tarot reading to Hansen, hoping the man could help him figure out his next step.

“She pulled all those cards on you. There wasn’t anything that you did to help the situation?”

“That damn storm left me with only enough strength to eavesdrop. Besides, I know nothing about the Tarot. Chakras are more my speed.”

“How does Gemma’s mother know all this? Know so much about you?”

“I think the woman’s been ‘touched’.”

Hansen got a calculating look in his eye. “Maybe I ought to dream weave a little myself and find out.”

“Dude, she’s like over fifty.”

“Yeah, so? Age is just a number. Besides, from how you’ve described her, she sounds kinda hot.”

“I think she’s in a relationship.”

“What’s a little dream loving? Doesn’t hurt nobody.”

“Speak for yourself,” Lucky muttered, dropping to sit on the grass that never seemed to need watering. He lay on his back and gazed up at the puffy clouds. It never rained. He missed a good hard rain. Damn, but he itched to get out of here. Turns out there was something to the saying, “Too much of a good thing.”

“That’s okay,” Hansen said. “I wasn’t really serious about dreamweaving anyway. I’m happy here. What’s not to love about Paradise?”

Lucky raised his head to debate the reasons but stopped. He had a feeling Hansen hadn’t moved on because of him. Hansen had always been a supportive sonofabitch. Lucky was going to miss him. That is if he wasn’t stuck with him for all eternity.

“So what’s your next move?” Hansen asked.

Hell, if he knew.

So help her God, if another person asked for a book, and they didn’t know the title or author, she was going to scream. The earlier Tarot reading twisted around in her head, so Gemma had dived into work, hoping that would help her to compartmentalize.

It wasn’t working.

Gemma gritted her teeth and plastered on a fake smile as she turned to greet another customer. “Oh hi, Cub.” Gemma’s fake smile flirted with the real thing at seeing him.

Cub stopped cold. His eyes widened, and he looked like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t be. “Hey, Gemma. I thought today was your day off?” He stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. She couldn’t help but notice how the fabric fit across his hips.

“Normally it is, but I couldn’t stay away. You know how it is when you own your own business.” So, he wasn’t in here to see her. Her fake smile returned at full-wattage. “Is there something I can help you find?”

“Uh...no.” Cub clearly looked uncomfortable as his gaze flitted around the store landing everywhere but on her. “I’ll just look around.”

“Okay.” Awkward. “Let me know if you need anything.” She made a beeline for the café and left the book floor for Callista to manage. The young English major seemed better at it lately anyway.

The store had been hopping all day. Bad weather always brought in the customers. A lot of them were hanging out in the café with their laptops, drinking their daily water consumption in coffee. Lately, she’d been no different.

“Large coffee with a double shot of espresso, Amie,” Gemma ordered.

“Are you sure?” Amie asked, sending a worried look her way. “You’ve been downing the coffee at a terrible rate. You’re going to eat through your stomach lining if you keep this up. Maybe some tea would be better?”

“Not strong enough,” she mumbled.

“Hey, can I talk to you about your mom?” Amie asked as she went about making Gemma’s drink.

One of the very reasons she needed copious amounts of caffeine. She was lucky she didn’t drown her life in a bottle. “What about her?”

“Remember when she said I was pregnant?”

Oh, no. Gemma braced herself for the news.

“Well, she was half right.”

“Come again?”

“Siri’s words had hinted that a new baby would be in my future. Well, I’m not pregnant. Seriously, not pregnant. I took six pregnancy tests in the last week and then you-know-what decided to put in an appearance and relieve my fears for good. But Drew came home with a new puppy. So your mom was right.”

“A new puppy?”

“He’s way cute. And puppies are babies. Dog babies.”

That they are. Maybe she should add something stronger to her coffee after all? She was having trouble keeping up. Amie handed her the hot drink. Gemma took a large sip not giving it time to cool, and burned her tongue. She jerked the cup away from her mouth, spilling drips of coffee on her sweater. She swallowed the burning liquid as Cub came up to her.

“You okay?” he asked, holding a bag with his purchase in one hand, the other still locked away in his pocket. Guess he found what he’d come in for.

She grabbed a napkin and blotted her mouth and the front of her sweater. What was wrong with her? She knew better than to guzzle fresh coffee. Good thing her sweater was black.

“Here.” Amie set a cup of ice water on the counter for her.

She mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ and took a drink, letting the cold water cover her scorching tongue. Swallowing, she answered, “I’m fine.” She concentrated on getting the words out past her swelling tongue.

“Can we...sit for a minute?” Cub indicated a table in the corner next to the window.

“Actually, I really need to get back to work. It’s time for me to cover Callista’s lunch. But would you like something to drink?” She gestured to Amie who patiently waited to see if Cub needed anything, taking in every word exchanged between them.

“Hot chocolate?” He reached for his wallet, and Gemma stayed his hand.

“No, it’s on me.”

“That’s twice now you’ve treated me to hot chocolate. Can I treat you to dinner Sunday night?”

Dinner? When he was clearly uncomfortable with seeing her here today?

“I really enjoy your company, Gemma.” He leaned in and whispered, “And the kiss we shared the other night.”

She couldn’t stop the heat from illuminating her face. Amie’s quirky smile confirmed she’d heard everything.

“Okay.” Gemma figured agreeing to dinner would get Cub out of the store faster and away from probing eyes and the questions Amie would no doubt demand answers to.

“Good. I’ll pick you up at your place at seven.”

“How about I meet you?”

“Actually, I’d really like to pick you up. You know, like a real date.”

Amie’s smile was ear to ear now. But if Cub picked her up, that meant he’d be dropping her off at home too. It could mean another kiss, maybe more. She suddenly needed to hold the cup of ice to her face.

“All right. Seven then. Dinner,” she clarified if not for him, for herself.

“Great.” Cub paused and then leaned in and kissed her cheek. “See you Saturday.”

She watched him saunter out of the café and into the blustery outdoors.

“Wow, can that man wear a pair of jeans,” Amie whispered in awe.

Yep, he sure could.

Gemma took a long drink of the ice water.

Callista joined them. Her waist-length, flaxen hair lay in a braid down her back. Little silver-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of her nose that Gemma knew she only wore to help downplay her stunning looks and make her appear smarter. She wore gray slacks with a simple white blouse as another camouflage of sorts. “Are you seeing Cub Iverson?”

“Uh...kinda. Maybe?” They were just friends, really. But there was a date planned, and they’d shared a kiss, but wasn’t she seeing...

No. She wasn’t in a relationship with Lucky Leroy Morgan. You couldn’t be in a relationship with a dead person. Unless he was a vampire.

Oh, balls. She needed some sleep.

One thing she did fully comprehend in her sleep-deprived state, Cub was very much alive.

“She has a date with him Sunday night,” Amie shared, leaning over the counter. At least she hadn’t said it loud enough for the all café guests to hear.

“I’m so glad. I was heart-sickened to hear about his wife.”

“Wife!” Gemma and Amie said together.

A few eyes turned their direction.

“I thought you knew?” Callista stepped in closer. She continued when both Gemma and Amie shook their heads. “Cub lost his wife a year or so ago. I’m so relieved to see him moving on. He was depressed a long time after he lost her. They were high school sweethearts and were married right after graduation.”

“How’d she die?” Gemma asked, words suddenly hard to speak and not because of her burnt tongue.

“Breast cancer.”

“Oh, no. That’s awful,” Amie said.

Gemma had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, and it had nothing to do with how much coffee she’d drunk today. “Callista, what book did he buy?”

“Uh...‘Your First Time: A Guide to Loving After the Death of a Spouse.’”