Love Grows in Alaska (The Washington Triplets) (5 page)

“Isn’t that the guy from the airport?” Pete asks.

“Yeah, I guess he runs some plane or something,” I try to nonchalantly answer, when my pink cheeks, quickening pulse and impatient stutter do nothing to convince them, especially Libby.

“What’s his name? Zeke—” Pete naively continues, not noticing any non-verbal signs my body language is giving out.

“Zach—Zach Greer,” I inform him, and Libby takes a long deep breath.

“Zach Greer, huh?” she asks, peeking over her shoulder once again and then raising her eyebrows my way with a devilish grin.

“Let’s order,” I say, changing the subject while my eyes follow Zach finding a seat at the end of the bar, facing right at me.

“We were waiting for you. Which you took a lifetime,” Wes adds in. When did he return from the bathroom?

“Are you feeling okay?” Pete asks and then puts his hand on my forehead and right before I back up from his touch, Zach’s eyes find mine from across the room. He shakes his head and leans back in his chair, taking a sip of his beer. I wish I could smack the patronizing smirk off his face.

“I’m fine,” I snap and he backs his head up, over-exaggerating his reaction. “Where’s the waitress?” I ask, peering over the whole restaurant, purposely breezing right past Zach’s area.

“She’s probably on break from being sick and tired of asking us when the rest of our party would return,” Wes sneers and I turn to him.

“Can you honestly take that chip off your shoulder and throw it into the lake because I’m about two seconds from throwing you into it,” I threaten. Libby and Pete quietly laugh, but it only infuriates Wes more.

“I don’t want to be here,” he says through clenched teeth, snapping his fingers at the waitress.

“They really don’t like it when you do that,” Libby remarks and Wes pierces his eyes at her and she instantly puts her head down.

“Fuck this. I’m out of here.” He stands up and pushes the chair to the table, making all of the water glasses slosh back and forth.

“Wes!” Libby calls out, standing up. Then she turns around to us. “I’ll go get him.” “Lib,” I holler out to her, but she’s already gone. “What the hell is going on with those two?” I ask and Pete shrugs.

“Now it’s just the two of us.” I roll my eyes at Pete’s excitement. His phone starts ringing and I widen my eyes to it on the table.

“Aren’t you going to get that?”

He glances at the screen where only a number shows up and then flashes to me. Biting his lip, he finally picks it up. “Yeah, I’ll be back in a second.” He stands to his feet and exits the room.

As soon as I’m stranded at the table for four all by myself, my eyes veer to the same place they have been the last ten minutes, but the spot is empty. My stomach sinks further. So much for waiting on me for an after dinner drink. I bend down to get my purse to pay the bill when the chair scoots out across from me. Figuring it’s Pete, excuses rush my brain on how to get out of this situation.

Sitting straight up, it’s not Pete, but a hot guy with a cocky grin splashed across his face instead. “Tonight must be my lucky night.” He winks and my heart skips a beat.

“HI,” I GULP THE LAST
bit of saliva from my mouth.

“Hi.” He’s so confident, I’m positive he’ll see through my cool girl impersonation and quickly figure out I’m borderline ordinary at best.

My hand reaches out to grab my water, when the waitress comes over. “What can I get you, Mr. Greer?” The middle-aged woman smiles warmly at him.
He must come in here a lot.

“Hi, Nancy. Could we get a bottle of the house Chardonnay?” He orders and spots my menu on the side. “Did you want to order dinner?”

“Um … no.” I swat my hand at him. Absolutely, no way could I eat in front of this man.

“Nancy, can you get us the crab cakes, shrimp cocktail and smoked salmon dip?” He takes charge of ordering appetizers and I’m enjoying this dominant characteristic, as long as he doesn’t take it too far.

“Of course, Zach … um … Mr. Greer,” she stammers and he chuckles lightly, easing her tension.

“Zach please, Nancy.” She smiles, patting him on the arm. “Didn’t know if things changed on that front.” She kindly handles the situation and I’m curious as to what I’ve missed. When Nancy remembers me, her grin widens. “You’re lucky Miss. Zach doesn’t even compare to other men.”

“Oh, Nanc, don’t go promising her stuff I can’t deliver on.” That low laugh of his continues and my whole body heats.

“I never lie, Zach.” She winks at me and swiftly leaves the table. Once she’s out of ear range, Zach turns to me and those silver dollar dimples are pointed at me.

“She’s kind hearted,” he remarks, as though squashing her compliments.

“I think she knows you pretty well.” I sip my water and place it back down, trying to cool my body from the waves of desire rapidly flowing.

“Well, I can tell you a lot about Nancy, but that’s not what interests me right now.” He leans back in his chair with smooth ease. Not really knowing how to respond, I bite my lip. “That was my awfully sly way of saying you’re the one that interests me.” My stomach somersaults with his intentions. I’ve never had a man approach me like Zach and as much as I love it, I’m not sure I have what it takes to handle it.

“What do you want to know?” I cross my legs and lean back, attempting to imitate those romantic comedies where the girls appear unfazed by a man’s approach.

“Anything. Where are you from?” Just then Nancy returns with the bottle and two glasses. She begins to open it, but Zach snatches it from her grasp. “I got it Nancy, don’t worry.” She pats him on the back, giving me a small nod, silently saying
I speak only the truth, this one is a keeper
. God, I want to believe her. A man like Zach, after only two encounters, already has my imagination running wild with the future.

I watch his strong hands manipulate the corkscrew, the veins in his forearms pulsing when he pries the cork from the bottle. Every mannerism he has is sexy as hell. I fixate on the pouring of the wine in each glass, willing my body to cool slightly but it’s ignoring me. Can I blame it? Never has a man pumped so much adrenaline though my veins.

He hands me the glass and I tensely take it by the stem, praying I don’t spill. “No more stalling, where are you from?”

Placing my glass down, I sit a little straighter, composing myself better. “Anchorage right now,” I answer and he shakes his head with one corner of his lips turned up.

“Before Anchorage?” he persists.

“Chicago,” I answer, matching his smile.

“What a beautiful city. Why would you leave the lower forty-eight to come up to Alaska?” He takes his own sip of wine and then places it back down, awaiting my answer. His intriguing eyes asking about my life are hard to believe.

“I don’t know. Change of scenery.” I half lie, half tell the truth but Zach’s cocking of his head confirms he knows that’s not the whole reason.

“Marisa, the only people that change their life to come up for scenery are the ones that live off the grid. With no modern conveniences. You live in Anchorage, which means, not a whole ton has changed for you except you’re miles away from where you fled.”
Shit, how does he already have me completely figured out?

My neck flames with warmth and I imagine my skin as pink as it can get with my olive skin tone. He inches a little closer to me, the sweetness of the wine coming off his breath. “Am I right?” he whispers and the hairs on the back of my neck rise to attention—his attention.

“My mom died six months ago,” I blurt and have to stop my hand from flying to my mouth as though I could take those words back.

“I’m sorry to hear that. My uncle just passed recently.” His mischievous grin falters into a frown. Knowing the last thing I want is to have some sad conversation about the ones we loved, I do something I never do, take charge of a conversation.

“But the reason I left was I wanted to get away. I’m the oldest of identical triplets,” I confess, which usually floods people’s mouths with an array of questions, detouring the conversation from myself as an individual.

“Triplets? There’s two other versions as gorgeous as you out there?” If my face didn’t resemble a tomato before, it sure as hell does now. I nod. “I’m glad you were the one who decided to move up to Alaska.” He compliments me as an individual and my heart is soaring with it.

“You don’t even know me.” I fight it, hoping to convince myself that what he says isn’t how he truly feels.

“I know enough—enough that I want more. Maybe your sisters would intrigue me too, but it isn’t your looks that peek my questions.” I seriously want to rip my heart out and toss it on the table. He can have it, steal it and captivate it forever. Completely speechless, I have no idea what to say. “What was it like being a triplet? I can imagine it’s hard to stand out.” He grabs his glass, taking a sip, unknowing that he just nailed my whole reason for fleeing Chicago.

“Yeah, it’s hard to explain. I mean I’m not so sure siblings can have the same bond as any multiples, but I could be wrong. It’s only ever been us. We were definitely type-casted as kids, put into a specific stereotype it seems.”

“I think that can happen in any family, although, I wouldn’t know, I’m an only child,” he divulges, giving me an easy distraction from my own family dilemma.

“My biggest wish growing up. No one to steal your clothes, or share your toys with. You’re your parents’ only priority.” I could ramble all day on the things I prayed for when I was younger.

“No one to play with, no one to talk to, no one to fight with,” he counters and I laugh because his point is made with three statements.

“No one to go in front of you. You probably don’t even know what reverse birth order means.” He chuckles and nods.

“That’s a good one and no, I don’t.” He bends over in a fit of laughter and then composes himself again, portraying a very serious tone.

“No one to ride with at amusement parks.” He half frowns and all I envision is a sad little blue-eyed boy standing in line for the Tilt-A-Whirl all by himself.

“Not having to play rock-paper-scissors to decide who sits alone on rides,” I counter, mighty proud of myself for coming up with that on the fly.

“No one to help you sneak out of the house or divert your parents’ attention.” His one eye arches and I crack up because my sisters and I did that all the time. Makes my heart happy just remembering.

“Maybe just one sibling would be good,” I offer, relenting and he nods.

“Yeah, looks like we were on opposing sides of life with that one.” The tension and anxiety, at least for me, begins to diminish. “You left your two sisters and your dad back in Chicago then?” he questions, and I wonder how the discussion circled back my way again.

“No, just my dad. My baby sister, Mya, has lived in New York for the past two years, and Mikaela moved to California recently.”
How does he get me to disclose such personal facts of my life?

“Your dad must be lonely.” His voice so sincere, because that’s what people would expect, right? My dad alone on his couch at night, watching some repeat of Matlock or something mundane. But not my dad; he hopped on that saddle before my mom’s tombstone was placed.

“He’s definitely not lonely. His mistress keeps him company.” I can hear the rancid tone in my voice. Zach doesn’t flinch, but he looks for Nancy, probably for a distraction to not have to deal with this nut case of a family across from him.

Not seeing Nancy and the restaurant slowing down, he has nowhere to turn but back to me. He reaches across the table and grabs my hand in his, sending a current up my arm. “That’s truly shitty, Marisa. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.” He squeezes my hand, producing a warm feeling as though trying to shelter me from the pain.

“Thank you.” I leave my hand out, but he pulls back and soon my fingers are cold again, just like my heart for my dad. “There isn’t much you can say.” I give him an out because I would be stunned into silence if it was me in his shoes.

“I was just going to say, I’m sure that’s hard for you.” The lighthearted conversation turns too serious for me and I would do anything to shove that declaration back into my mouth.

“Well—” Just then Pete walks back to the restaurant, strutting back to the table. Fear that my time with Zach is finished, Pete surprises me when he stops a few tables back from ours. Staring down at the back of Zach’s head and then back at me, I see the unsure sad eyes. I do feel bad and wish I would have been honest with him beforehand. He gives one small nod of his head and then twists around and leaves the restaurant. It’s hard to concentrate on Zach when I know I just hurt someone, and although it wasn’t intentional, that doesn’t change the fact.

“You still with me?” Zach swipes his hand in front of my face and then glances over his shoulder. Thank goodness Pete’s already left.

Blinking a few times, “Yeah,” I respond and smile. “What did you ask?”

“Just wondered who you work for in Anchorage.”

“Henbrook Drilling.” Zach effortlessly distracts me away from the issues of my dad and I welcome it immensely.

“What do you do at Henbrook Drilling?” he continues and I could kiss him for steering the topic away from my family.