Love Grows in Alaska (The Washington Triplets) (2 page)

A steaming cup of coffee sits next to my co-worker, Libby Roy, when I pull out the seat next to her. She’s so cute with her short blonde bob, magenta-rimmed glasses and petite figure. On my first day, she peeked over the cubicle wall, pushing up her glasses and introducing herself to me. Hitting it off immediately, she’s my closest friend in Anchorage. She’s quieter than me, but we both enjoy gossiping about Pete and the show Grey’s Anatomy. I’m excited for this Thursday because she’s supposed to come over to my small one-bedroom apartment to gorge on junk food and watch the season premiere.

“Coffee delivery from your prince charming,” she teases, raising her eyebrows a few times when I sit down in the chair next to her.

“Seriously, I’m not sure he could get a hint if I stamped it on my forehead.” I roll my eyes, scooting the coffee over slightly, although it smells damn good. “What’s the meeting about?” I ask her.

She pushes her glasses up on her nose and leans in. “Team building is the rumor.”

“Great,” I exasperate, very unenthused. “So, what did you do this weekend?”

“Nothing really. Camden wanted to go to the movies. Thor … again.” She sighs.

Libby followed Camden up to Alaska a year ago. They both attended Oregon State and when Camden got offered a park ranger position, he asked her to come with. She started at Henbrook four months ago after temping at numerous offices around Anchorage.

“Well, it’s more exciting than watching a romance until you pass out from a sugar coma.” Libby giggles at my admittance, but this sadly is my present life.

“I told you, let me set you up,” she says, doodling flowers on her own pad of paper.

“I may have to consider that once I get completely settled.” The thought of a blind date in Alaska who is friends with a park ranger doesn’t sound like a success. I’m not really ready for some plaid flannel wearing guy with a long beard that doesn’t go anywhere without his gun on the off chance he spots a deer or moose.

“The offer stands, just let me know.” She leaves it open and greets the other new guy, Wesley Deed, as he walks into the office. “Hi, Wesley,” she says kindly.

“Hey, girls,” he responds, giving us a nod of his head. Wesley is the typical macho guy you assume you’d find in Alaska. The fact he just referred to us as girls instead of ladies, or our actual names, tells me all I really need to know about him.

“Deeds,” I greet him back, and he narrows his eyes to me briefly before turning his attention back to his phone.

“Hey, Wes, I didn’t know you’d be in the meeting?” Pete lazily saunters in the room.

“Yeah.” Wesley quickly disregards him and Pete’s attention focuses to me once again. My wish vanishes when he doesn’t take a seat by Wes, but walks all the way around the oval table to me. He places his computer next to me and slides the chair out, earning a grumble from me, which earns me an elbow jab from Libby.

“Did you get my coffee?” he asks, and Libby stifles a laugh, twisting in her chair so he doesn’t notice.

“I did, thank you. I forgot to tell you I gave up coffee.” I smile and his lips turn down.

“When?” he questions, and I keep up my charade.

“This weekend. Trying to go all healthy with wheat grass smoothies and things. No caffeine.”

“Oh, have you tried that place down in the Atrium?” Libby adds and I kick her foot under the table. She scrunches her eyes and then goes back to focusing on her phone.

“Doing it at home. You can never trust the other places,” I continue in my flat-out dishonesty.

Luckily, he’s about to open his mouth when the Human Resources manager, my boss, Mr. Ashby, walks into the room. His salt and pepper hair completely groomed along with his matching beard. The short sleeve blue shirt brings out the color even more. He’s an attractive older man who I hope will be a great mentor for a new, younger employee like myself.

“Good morning, everyone,” he announces and we all look around the room at one another in confusion.

“Aren’t we missing like twenty people?” Pete asks, and Mr. Ashby shakes his head.

“No, you guys are it,” he answers, oblivious to our confusion.

All of our questioning faces must finally register to him, because he quickly adds, “The four of you are the most recent hires. Word came down from upstairs that with the company growing, they want to ensure that it still stays small in the sense of employees’ relationships with one another.”

“Okay,” Wesley draws out, “so, what do they want? Us all to go to dinner, have drinks, or something?”

“Something more like a team building retreat. The four of you are our test subjects. You’ll be going up to King’s Gate for one week. It’s all on the company.” Shoving folders at us, they slide in our direction and we each stop one with our hands. “In there, you’ll find your itinerary. Reckle’s Guide Tours is your host.”

“Is this a mandatory thing?” Libby asks, her fingers flipping through all of the papers.

“Yes, Miss Roy, it is. Like I said, this is coming from the higher ups.”

Searching the papers, I spot the departure date is this coming Saturday. Five days to pack for a trip into the unknown. Pete talks to Mr. Ashby about the area, spouting the facts of wildlife, glaciers, and other encyclopedia statistics.

“Well, that’s it,” Mr. Ashby says, ending the meeting. “You can have Friday off in preparation. Otherwise, meet at the airport early Saturday morning and I’ll expect a great recap on your experience when you return.” He leaves the room and all of us, besides Pete, are stunned into silence.

“This fucking sucks.” Wesley stands up and leaves the room.

“I don’t know what I’m going to tell Camden.” Libby’s voice shakes as she stands and exits as well.

“I think this is great. We’ll have a lot of fun,” Pete adds next to me, not standing or leaving the room, which makes me rise from the uncomfortable feeling settling inside of me.

“Well … I better start figuring out what I need to buy,” I say, stupidly, realizing after the fact that he probably knows the best shops to go to and exactly what I need to be prepared. I can just imagine Pete pushing himself into the dressing room with some excuse about how snug an article of clothing should be on me.

“If you need tips, just let me know. I’ll probably go tonight or tomorrow. There’s this place a block away, we could eat lunch …” He rambles on and on.

“I’ll let you know. Thanks, Pete,” I say as politely as possible while leaving the conference room.

On my way back to my four-by-four square, I overhear Libby talking to Camden. “Cam, it’s mandatory, as in no choice,” she explains to him and my stomach churns at the shakiness of her voice. “No, I’m not going to quit.” I stop to eavesdrop outside her narrow entrance. “Marisa will be with me, too. It’s only a week and you’re scheduled for most of that week anyway. You’ll barely notice I’m gone.” Once I hear her fifth exasperated sigh, I make a mental note to ask Libby about why she’s so worried. I escape into my own private seclusion to ponder what exactly this little impromptu team building vacation will bring me.

Firing up my laptop, I Google Map from Anchorage to King’s Gate. Located only two hours away, I figure it can’t be that secluded being so close to a major metropolitan area as Anchorage. Then I click on the Reckle’s Guide Tours icon, figuring they must be pretty well-known if they have their own link on the government site. Really, how bad could this be?

My eyes scan the company description. Family-owned, various tours from novice to advanced, and lastly five-star dining restaurants and entertainment at the resort. Pictures show it resembles a small village where everyone knows everyone, and unfortunately, everyone’s financial fate rests in the hands of the Reckle’s family business. But it’s inviting with the quaint lines of shops down the main street. Although, when Mr. Ashby initially told us, I didn’t want to go, I’m kind of excited to see more of Alaska.

“Hey.” Libby’s soft voice diverts my attention away from the movie scene unfolding in my mind.

“Hi.” I zip my office chair around to find a swollen-eyed Libby. “Oh, Libby, I’m sorry. What did Camden say?”

She wipes her eyes of what I hope are the last tears. “He’s not happy about it, but eventually he understood.”

“Tell him your room will be right next to mine and I’ll post a sign that says No Boys Allowed.” I give her a small smile to decipher if humor is okay because I sense there’s more than I realized between her and Camden. She smiles back and then giggles.

“I’ll let him know. He has no choice. I’ve uprooted my life here and I’m not going to sacrifice my job because of his caveman alpha thoughts.” Libby crosses her arms and nods her head in a defiant showing. I’m proud of her that she’s not letting Camden push her around.

“You go girl,” I cheer and she shakes her head, amusement showing on her face, and walks back to her cubicle.

“Now, I just need to keep reminding myself of that on the drive home,” she calls out over our partitioned wall.

Camden never seemed like the jealous type to me, but then again, Libby stays by his side almost the whole time we’ve ever hung out, which has only been a few times. Of course, due to my parents, I’m a firm believer in the philosophy that you never know what goes on behind closed doors.

By the time five o’clock strikes the clocks, the shuffling of feet and chairs being pushed into desks ping in every area of the open office space. Libby walks into mine with her bag hanging from her shoulder. “Here I go.” She bites her lower lip and takes a deep breath as though she’s grabbing as much courage she can. I bite my tongue about asking her directly about Camden and what exactly she’s so worried about.

Rising to my feet, I push my chair in and grab my own computer bag. “What are you so worried about?” She turns and I follow her down the narrow opening between the windows and our offices.

“I’m not sure. Maybe he’ll find—” She stops and opens the door for me.

“Libby, it’s a week, not a year. You’ll be back before you know it. If, and hear me when I say
if
, he turns around and cheats on you, that’s a dipshit move. It only means you’re too good for him,” I honestly tell her, because I won’t stand for Libby to stick around him if he’s not allowing her to be herself. It’s the same reason I left Nate right after college. If given the chance, they’ll drag you down before you ever realize how low your self-esteem has plummeted. All these months later, I’m still insecure about myself.

Libby quietly glances at her phone as the elevator descends and when we reach the parking lot, I squeeze her tight in a big hug. “If he’s a good guy, which I’m fairly certain he is—he’ll come around.” When I pull back from the embrace and hold my hands on her upper arms, her eyes appear wet.

“Thanks, Marisa,” she answers and then turns around to her car.

Libby’s situation rests on my mind the whole way home, showing me again that relationships are tough. Why was she so worried about Camden? Trust is the biggest part of relationships, and how on Earth can I ever trust a man to only love me after knowing what my father is doing in six weeks?

Parking my car in the driveway, I walk back down and grab my mail. Flipping through the bills, advertisements, and junk mail, I open my door and relish the feeling of home.

Although I’ve only lived here a short while, it’s mine and only mine. I can walk around naked, never get out of my pajamas, eat cereal for dinner. For the first time in my life, I’m by myself. Going from my parents, to my sisters, to Nate … it’s nice to finally experience quiet.

Preparing some macaroni and cheese, I settle in front of the television and instantly figure out I have nothing left on my DVR because I’m a homebody. Every night and every weekend, I’ve sat my ass on this couch and not done what I set out to do when I left Chicago. I was supposed to put myself out there, have fun, meet new people. Glancing at my yoga pants and worn t-shirt only depresses me more with my current situation. Instead of crying over someone else’s romantic story, I opt for my computer.

I cross my legs and plop the computer across my lap on my big brown couch. Creeping along Facebook, I spot my friends who are engaged, some pregnant, others rising the ranks of success in their careers. All achieving things I’m not, but oddly enough, I’m okay with it. Their fulfilled lives don’t make me jealous, just saddened by my own.

Checking Mya out, I roll my eyes at her pictures out at a club with at least five guys around her. She’s always been the guy magnet between the three of us. While she was asked to prom by three guys, one that didn’t even go to our school, I only had my old faithful, Brad, our next door neighbor.

I switch over to check my email and there it is like a flashing neon sign.
Dad, RE: Wedding
. Figuring it’s best to open it now, otherwise, I’ll obsess over what it says all night. My curser hovers over his name for a few seconds before taking the deep plunge and double-clicking on open.

Weighing pros and cons of attending, I figure it’s a good sign that he wants us there. Even better that he refers to us as his family. I’m relieved that he hasn’t written his daughters off with the new wicked witch stepping in. My stomach stirs with the unpleasant thought of witnessing my own father say I do to someone I loathe more than my ex-boyfriend, Nate. I’m tempted to slam my laptop closed and throw it across the room, but instead I decide to turn to my sisters, hoping we can come together at this time, to at least console one another.