Just In Time: An Alaskan Nights Novel (5 page)

“Roman.” She stepped back, her lips wet from their kiss and her dark eyes glowing with an arousal he knew mirrored his own. “We can’t do this.”

“We can do this.” He levered his hands at her hips to pull her closer.

“No. We can’t.”

Like a shutter slamming closed over the light streaming through a window, her passion-filled gaze shut down, replaced with an icy cool that stopped him from reaching for her again.

“We can dance around this, Avery. Or we can do something about it.”

“Don’t let nostalgia cloud your judgment, Roman. We stopped doing anything a long time ago. Dancing or otherwise.”

Before he could muster up a response, she unlocked her door and slipped through it, not even turning to say good night.

•   •   •

The aftereffects of kissing Avery still hummed in his veins the following morning as Roman did his daily run through town. He had waved to a few early risers, but most of Indigo was still indoors, sleeping off a night of revelry.

Fresh air flowed in and out of his lungs with each step he took, and he appreciated the change in routine. July in Manhattan was usually stifling, and the tang of cool, crisp air was a welcome respite.

He followed a curving path out of town and along the river that ran outside Indigo. He’d done this run more times than he could count and the familiarity was a comforting presence as he processed the events of the last few days.

The overheated moment in front of Avery’s doorway had haunted his dreams last night and he’d stood there for several moments, imagining what it would have been like if she’d allowed him to follow her inside. Long, soulful kisses like the one they’d shared in the hall. The languid removal of the silk material that showcased her figure to perfection. The press of their slick flesh as they came together after so many years apart.

He could see all of it—every taste and touch—and it filled him with a quiet desperation he’d never had a name for.

All he wanted was Avery.
His
Avery.

And for the next month he’d be in close proximity to the one woman on the planet who drove him absolutely crazy.

A rush of anger surged and he used it as an added incentive to push his body. Increasing his speed, despite the three miles he’d already covered, Roman fought the need that pumped through his bloodstream with good old-fashioned sweat and effort.

His feet thumped over the ground, the occasional twig or branch making a satisfying crack as his weight split it in half. Cool air swept in and out of his lungs with increasing force and he reveled in the effort, satisfied when it required more of his attention.

God, how she twisted him up and made him forget—

Without warning, one second he was upright and moving at a steady clip and the next he flew ass over head down a slippery embankment.

“Fuck!”

The words tore from his lips as he used his hands to stop his momentum. He closed his eyes against the ground that rose up to meet him and tucked his shoulder at the last minute, as if approaching contact with the boards at the rink.

“Effective, Forsyth,” he muttered to himself when he ended up facedown in a pile of wet leaves and grass.

Roman rolled over, opened his eyes and looked around. A slight twinge echoed through his shoulder—more the result of an old injury than any real damage—and a quick assessment of his body ensured the fall had been more of an embarrassment than truly damaging.

A massive fucking embarrassment when he looked back up at the embankment and saw what he’d missed.

The path had a divot about the width of a foot and he’d stepped right into it. And he hadn’t seen it at all because the hole had been in his peripheral vision.

Something he hadn’t had in his right eye for almost three months.

Fuck, shit and damn.

He stood and brushed the grass off, swiping at his shorts. A large cut gaped at his knee and he could see blood on the cap.

“Great way to start the day, asshole,” he muttered to himself. “Horny and banged up. Welcome the fuck home.”

A
very walked into the café around seven. Although there was plenty of breakfast at the hotel, she wasn’t interested in making small talk with the guests, and Susan had taken pity on her.

Or had recognized she’d scare off any repeat visitors with an attitude that could rival a grizzly bear’s.

“You’re up early.” Mick smiled at her from a booth near the door and waved her over.

“I could say the same for you. What are you doing here by yourself? Where’s Grier?”

“My little party animal is sleeping off last night’s fun.”

“She was sobering up when I left the reception.”

“Jell-O shots,” Mick explained as he took a sip of coffee. “Someone had them in a cooler on the way out and she thought they’d be a good idea.”

“I bet she feels a bit different this morning.”

“Which is why I made about as much noise as one of my planes this morning as I got ready to head out.”

Avery couldn’t help but smile at that. “You’re an evil man. It’s one of your most charming qualities.”

“I’m not sure Grier thought it was so charming.”

“Actually, when she comes out of her self-induced stupor, I think she’ll probably applaud you for it. She’s twisted that way. Which”—Avery picked up the mug of coffee their waitress set down in front of her—“is the reason she’s so damn crazy about you. You give her a run for her money.”

“Sort of like you and Roman?”

Her good humor fled, replaced immediately with the grizzly attitude. “It’s nothing like me and Roman.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“The whole town thinks differently.”

“Then they’re going to be very disappointed to realize how wrong they are.”

“Ah, but the real question, my friend, is, are they wrong?”

Avery mulled his words over as she looked at her menu. She knew exactly what she wanted—had known before walking in the door—but the menu gave her a handy excuse to stall.

She’d carried her feelings for Roman so close to the surface for so long that it hurt in a way she could never have imagined to have him dangled in front of her once more. She truly understood that everyone’s hopeful eyebrow raises and happy gossip weren’t meant to be hurtful, but they simply had no idea what it did to her.

With a casualness she didn’t feel, Avery glanced up from her menu. “He left, Mick. A long time ago. I’ve gotten over it, and there’s no reason to think we need to start things back up.”

“Believe me when I say I know what a royal pain in the ass all the attention is. But take it away, the innuendo and the gossip, and what are you left with?”

“Nothing, Mick.” She folded her menu and picked up her cup of coffee. “Absolutely nothing.”

•   •   •

Roman’s royally shitty morning went from bad to worse when he walked through the door of the café. All he wanted was a damn omelet and a cup of coffee, not a resounding reminder of what he didn’t have last night.

Yet there sat Avery and Mick, having breakfast and talking.

Their position in one of the front booths also ensured he couldn’t just order at the counter and walk out without looking like a world-class jerk.

“What happened?” Avery’s gaze ran the length of him before she was up and out of the booth. “Are you bleeding?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re a mess.”

He brushed off the concern and slid into the booth she’d just gotten out of. His knee did throb like a blinking neon sign, but he’d deal with it later. “I’m fine.”

“What happened?” Mick’s voice was calmer, but Roman didn’t miss the sharpness to the question.

“I tripped on my run this morning. No big.”

“You’re covered in grass stains and you really need to put something on that knee.”

Before he could brush it off as nothing, Avery’s hand was on his thigh and she had a handful of napkins out of the small metal holder on the table, pressed against his throbbing knee.

And just like that, something else a few inches from her hand began to throb worse.

Way
worse.

“I’m fine, Ave.” It wasn’t until the words were out that he realized his teeth were clamped so tightly his jaw ached.

Sudden awareness flashed in her gorgeous gaze. For a moment, he delighted in the simple sincerity of her actions and the fact that the walls usually standing high and impenetrable between them weren’t in evidence.

Until that gaze flashed once again—this time to his groin—and her eyes widened in surprise.

Gruff instructions rang out as she lifted her hand from his thigh. “Here. Hold the napkins against your knee for a few more minutes.”

“Thanks.”
Even if I’d rather you hold something more interesting than a stack of napkins
.

Mick’s averted gaze and focus on his coffee was the only thing that kept Roman’s comment from being voiced. Add in the not so subtle fact that Avery had pulled her hand away from his body as if scalded—along with the reason for his tumble—and his humiliation was complete.

“What are you both having?” Roman asked.

“Pancakes,” they said in unison.

Although he’d been set on the omelet, the thought of all those carbs had him reconsidering. Maybe the morning could be salvaged after all. “Hangover fare if I’ve ever heard it.”

“Which is why I’m going to be a good fiancé and bring a stack home to Grier when I leave.”

“Grier have a tough night?”

“Tougher morning,” Mick said with a speculative gaze at his mug. “There’s coffee at home for when she wakes up but I left her sleeping.”

“What about you?” He turned toward Avery. “You look well rested and hangover free.” Yet another battering to his ego at the evidence that she must have slept like a baby.

“I had my moments. I’m just lucky I stopped before I could do any real damage.”

Because they sat side by side Roman couldn’t see a full view of her face, but he didn’t miss her meaning. “Well, the things we miss out on are often the most fun experiences. Even if we pay for them in the morning.”

Avery did turn toward him at that, her dark eyebrows a hard slash over expressive eyes.

Served her right. She could say whatever she wanted, but he wasn’t alone in that damn hallway last night. She responded to his kiss like she remembered all the ways they were good together.

Damn good together.

They were prevented from extending the argument by the arrival of their waitress bearing coffee. Roman ordered the omelet he’d planned on—the years of strength training had drilled too much discipline into him to act on the pancake impulse.

“Myrtle’s got the whole town excited that you’re coaching the kids.” Mick eyed him over the rim of his coffee cup.

“It should be fun. I want to keep up my workouts in the off season, and their enthusiasm will be the extra kick in my old ass.”

“The coach ran out near the end of the season. Jack and I didn’t even have to fly him, he just packed his few bags and hopped on the train.”

“Asshole,” Roman muttered as he doctored his coffee. Three spoonfuls of sugar and about as much milk.

Avery had always teased him about how he put more stuff in his coffee than what was already in the mug. Annoyed that he’d think of their shared past over a damn cup of coffee, he attempted to get his mind back in their booth.

“He was that. No one in town liked him, so other than disappointing the kids, no one was sorry he left.” Avery reached for the sugar after he set it down and doctored her own coffee. Although she didn’t layer up with a heavy dosing of cream, he saw that age hadn’t diminished her love of sugar.

And just like that, Memory Lane decided it wasn’t quite done kicking his ass.

He remembered kissing her, that sweet coffee fresh on her tongue as they skated out on the river that ran along the edge of town. He’d used a debris-free quarter-mile stretch of river for his skating practice and she always found a way to cheer him on, pushing him to work harder.

To skate harder.

To sweat and toil and ache for what he wanted, even though it meant all that work would take him away from her.

It had taken him a long time to understand how selfless she’d truly been, pushing him all along.

The image of hot kisses on the cold river faded and Roman tried to focus back in on their discussion. “How long was he here?”

“Less than a season. Claimed the winter was longer than he expected it to be.”

“Where did you guys find him?”

“California.” Avery snorted. “He thought he had the balls to handle Alaska.”

“Clearly he missed the mark,” Roman said.

“Or we did.”

“Oh come on,” Avery needled Mick. “You had your doubts from the day you flew him up here from Anchorage.”

“I didn’t say anything, though. He was already hired. What good would it do to bad-mouth the guy?”

“It might have saved Trina a big dose of heartache.”

“She still playing the field?” Roman keyed in on that, a long-forgotten memory of Trina and the going-away “present” she attempted to bestow upon him the night before he left an image he’d prefer to forget.

“Sadly, yes.” Avery’s tone held a distinct note of sympathy, and Roman had to admit it was probably better he’d kept Trina’s offer of a going-away present a secret.

“Add to it he wasn’t from around here and you had her perfect target. Unlike you”—she swatted him on the elbow as their waitress placed three heaping plates on their table—“who denied her from giving you a proper send-off.”

“You knew about that?”

“How do you think I knew to show up at the exact proper moment? She’d spread it around to anyone who would listen, including my friends, that she was going after you before you left.”

“And you never told me?”

“What was the point? If I’d thought you were going to do anything about it, I’d have cut your balls off with the blunt end of your hockey stick.”

Mick winced along with Roman’s own audible “Ouch.”

“I can’t believe you knew and didn’t say anything.”

“I knew.” Avery grinned, the first genuine smile he’d see since getting home. “And I figured I’d give you enough credit not to make a big deal about it.”

Her words caught him up short and he marveled at the insight she’d managed to have at eighteen. He’d dated plenty of women over the years—some more successfully than others—and every single one had shared something in common.

All of them got territorial when another woman came into view.

Although he’d never been ready to commit to a life with any of them, he was a one-woman man. If he was dating, he was committed, and he’d never insult a woman by cheating on her.

How was it that Avery had understood that at such a young age, and women far more world-weary hadn’t?

“I knew, too, if it makes you feel any better,” Mick said.

“You knew because I told you.”

“No.” Mick shook his head. “I knew before that. Not much was a secret in our pea-sized high school.”

“Yet you allowed me to face my fate alone.”

“I was probably up in the air when it all came down.”

“Likely story.”

Roman couldn’t stop the smile, the good-natured ribbing and memories of a far-simpler time too nice to resist. He’d been lucky through the years, making some good, lasting friendships in the NHL, but none of them was as long-standing—or as solid—as what he had with Mick and Walker.

Avery, too, he realized.

She’d been there from the first.

Which was why leaving her behind years ago was the only answer.

•   •   •

Avery smiled when the bright morning sun and cool breeze greeted her as she, Mick and Roman walked through the door of the café. Whatever bad mood she’d come in with, the pancakes and good conversation had gone a long way toward assuaging it. She realized that this was the first time since Roman had arrived back in town that their time together had been comfortable and easy instead of mired in thoughts of the past.

And even more enjoyable than she’d remembered.

While it had become habit to think about all the years they’d missed together, she couldn’t help but be glad for the new moments they were able to share. Which had to be the reason for her tragic mistake.

“Do you guys want to go with me to the rink?” Roman asked. “I want to check it out before seeing the kids. Mort was supposed to meet me, but Myrtle shared the unfortunate news that something on the wedding menu didn’t agree with him.”

Mick lifted a take-out carton, a grimace on his face. “I’ve got to get these pancakes home and then out to the airstrip. I’ve got a late-morning run to Fairbanks.”

“I’ll go.” Avery shrugged, unable to resist that warm, green gaze. “Susan doesn’t need me back until lunch.”

“Good.”

Avery saw Roman’s satisfied nod—along with Mick’s momentary hesitation—before Mick spoke. “You still in for poker tonight?”

“You still prepared to lose?”

“Jackass.”

“Count on it.”

The two shook hands and offered up a few more insults before Mick headed for his SUV.

Avery at least gave Roman the courtesy of waiting until Mick was out of earshot. “You suck at poker.”

“Not anymore.”

“You understand the game and you bet well, but you have no poker face. At all.”

“Like I said, I’m better now.”

“That’s not a skill you change, Roman. It’s like eye color or black hair. You are who you are and either you have a poker face or you don’t.”

He gestured her forward down Main Street and in the direction of the town rink. “I beg to differ. You get your ass kicked enough times and you figure out how to stop getting it kicked. It’s survival instinct, pure and simple.”

His words held an odd measure of truth and she couldn’t resist looking at his profile as they walked. The bright sun kept part of him in silhouette, but the side of his face that she could see was more guarded than when they’d been kids.

Tougher.

And sexier than ever.

Had he developed a poker face? Or had he simply learned how to be more cautious as age, wisdom and a lifetime spent in the spotlight took their toll?

“So the rink’s in pretty bad shape? I got the sense from Mort at the wedding it hasn’t been taken care of very well.”