Love Grows in Alaska (The Washington Triplets) (6 page)

“Human Resources.”

“Oh.” His hand covers his jaw and he rubs the five o’clock shadow that’s gracing his face a few times. “Interesting.”

Giggling, “There’s nothing interesting about keeping track of paperwork and making sure men go in for their updated physicals and drug tests.” I joke about my own job and he shakes his head.

“You’re selling yourself short.” He boosts my ego slightly. “All of your friends work for Henbrook?”

“Yeah, it’s a team retreat.”

“So, that one guy that’s always putting his hands on you. He’s not your boyfriend?”

“No, he’s not.” My skin flares with the hopes that this means he wouldn’t mind taking that spot.

“That’s good. When I saw him touch your forehead earlier, I thought I could be encroaching on someone else’s space.” He shoots me that million-watt heart fluttering wink.

“No.” Is the only word I’m able to squeeze out because if he wants the spot, it’s his, hands down.

I see Nancy emerge from the kitchen with the tray of food Zach ordered. The minute she places it down on the vacant table next to us, Zach straightens up and unrolls his silverware wrapped in the cloth napkin. Mimicking his actions, I rest my napkin across my lap. I try to make room for the three appetizers that are bigger portions than most meals while Zach refills our wine glasses.

“Anything else, you two?” Nancy asks us and Zach shakes his head.

“Everything looks delicious,” Zach tells her, except his eyes are pinning me in my seat, eliciting me to uncross and then cross my legs again, trying to decrease the urge to kidnap him to my room.

A laugh sneaks out from Nancy before she semi-composes herself. “All right then, enjoy the appetizers, you two.” Without a word from either of us, she leaves us. Zach doesn’t break the contact, instead he licks his lips and I can literally feel my pulse increasing the longer we stare. I’m positive thoughts of what he’d do to me are flooding his mind, and I wish like hell he’d just drag me up to my room to show me.

Then like a record player scratching to a stop, a blonde barrels around the corner, glancing around the room until she spots the back of Zach’s head. “Zach!” she yells, and our eye contact breaks. He twists his head around and the blonde rushes over hugging him immediately.

“Bree,” he sighs.

“God, I missed you,” she continues, kissing his cheek and my heart literally breaks in half. That quickened pulse drops to the depths.
How could I think he was available?

Taking a deep breath, I try to compose myself and force a small smile. Not even looking, I snatch my purse from the floor and stand up. Hearing my chair, Zach looks over, his eyes fearful of what might have just happen. Poised as always,, I fake it. “It was nice seeing you again, Zach. Have a great evening, you two,” I remark and put my head down, walking back through the empty restaurant.

“Marisa,” Zach calls out, and I wish I had the guts to turn around. Throw a drink in his face or smack my palm across his face. I guess you can’t change who you are, because here I am running like always.

Thank goodness the elevator doors are open when I practically run to them, because I’m able to press the fourth floor button and the doors begin to slide shut. If even possible, I shutter when there’s no vision of Zach trying to reach me. I remind myself that this is what happens when you try to be someone different. Maybe Nate’s right; I’ll never be good enough to be someone’s number one.

WE GET OUT OF THE
guide tour van and I’m already fleeing into the hotel, eager to escape Pete’s running mouth and touchy hands. I hear the three of them behind me, discussing dinner plans. I feel like a child about to throw a tantrum if I have to sit at a table with them again. Even Libby, who is still damn chipper this morning with her phone tucked away. Some new found friendship between her and Wes left me mostly in my own solitude today, which only filled my doubts further about myself due to Zach’s actions last night.

Walking into the lobby, the scent of coffee diverts me to the complimentary refreshments. Grabbing a cup, I pour the dark liquid, sighing with the thought of the taste. I sit down on the couch and pull out my phone. Luckily, the three others continue up to their rooms and don’t join me.

Searching my emails, I see no more responses from my sisters. I’m mad at Dad too, but this is a time we should come together. I sense our bond to each other slowly fading in the last few years. Mikaela deciding not to attend college with Mya and me. She missed the good times our freshman and sophomore years that Mya and I had. Of course, when I started dating Nate, my relationship with Mya started drifting away. She was always going out and having fun, making me slowly spend more time at Nate’s apartment before eventually completely moving in. As happy as I believed Nate made me, I missed her flat iron on the bathroom sink and having to move her make-up from the sink. I yearned for our movie and pig-out nights, or when she would make me up to go to the club, where people would get confused on who was who. It was the only time, I never worried about what other’s thought, because I could say I was Mya and no one would know better.

I would visit the house and sometimes Mikaela would be there. Not that I ever felt comfortable enough to hop on her bed and gossip about anything; she’s so closed off, I’m never sure what is going on with her. I’ve tried on more than one occasion to pry her open a little, but she shuts down so quickly that I gave up even attempting it.

Mya packed up her stuff and left for New York right after we walked across that stage for graduation. Barely even an email from her, let alone a phone call. Not that I was much better, hung up on my life with Nate. His tainted words about independence and leaving the security of my sisters and family to be with him still reside in me. How I should cut my hair to be different, or when he would grab my ass and say there’s too much. Little cut downs that I never even realized were diminishing my self-esteem until it was so low I was doing anything to gain Nate’s acceptance.

I remember the last time I saw my mom and we went shopping. I struggled trying to find a dress for a wedding, putting things on and tossing them in a corner. Frustrated and annoyed, I broke down in a fit of tears, saying how ugly my body was and asking why I didn’t have Mya’s breasts or Mikaela’s ass, which is absurd because we are identical triplets. There aren’t very many differences between us physically. Unless you consider a mole here or there.

My mom bent down on her knees in front of me and placed her hands on my cheeks in the most loving motherly way. Forcing my face to the side so I could look in the mirror, she told me, “You’re beautiful, Marisa. You don’t need anyone else to believe it or see it, you need to feel it. I’m not sure where all this doubt is coming from since you were always so sure of yourself, but listen to me. You are a very beautiful and attractive girl who any guy would be lucky to have. I’m not so sure Nate understands just how fortunate he is.” She stood and left the dressing room. It was the first twinge of uneasiness in my relationship with Nate.

When Mom died and Nate didn’t attend the wake because he had to work, Mya’s flared nostrils and tight fists were a sure sign of her feelings. She hated him from the first moment he approached me at the bar, warning him with a finger to the chest not to mess with me. They’d get into wicked fights at the apartment, always arguing about something stupid, leaving a pressure to pick sides.

My heart was shattered by Nate for the last time at the wake because I knew it was over between us. If he couldn’t stand by and comfort me at the death of my mother, he’d never be someone I could lean on. Sensations of loneliness seeped further after losing my mom. At my end with my emotional roller-coaster, I left him and fled to a friend until eventually deciding to move to Alaska. It’s amazing how all the cruel things he did and said to me, lite up in my head like a flashing neon sign, once I was free. I just wish that unsure feeling that no one will love me would depart from my mind.

Coming back from memory lane to a cold cup of coffee, I startle at the presence in front of me. I slowly shake my head at the likelihood of this coincidence. “I swear you have some sort of GPS on me,” I remark, pressing my palms down on the sides of the chair to stand up.

He steps closer and I fall back down into the soft cushions. “I gotta say, I like that idea.” He smirks and I roll my eyes.

“Maybe if you didn’t have a girlfriend,” I add, raising my eyebrows for dramatic effect.

“I don’t.” His face not showing a glint of deceit. He takes the cup from the side of the table and walks over to the garbage. My eyes glued to his ass the whole time. I like the casual look of jeans and sneakers with a sweatshirt. Shows he’s younger than I thought. “If you would have stayed around longer, you’d have found out Bree’s my cousin.” That damn pompous grin in place.

“Oh,” I mutter. Shit, I couldn’t have come back with something snarkier? Why can’t I channel Mya on occasion?

He holds his hand out in front of me and I try the indignant girl thing, but he grabs it anyway. “Let’s go.” He pulls me up and I willingly oblige, because I’m certain my body is not agreeing with my mind at this moment.

“Where are we going?” I attempt to plant my feet on the carpet and not move them, but he amusedly shakes his head, walking away from me toward the front door. Turning around, his head tilts, silently asking why I’m not following.

“Coffee. Although, I’m not sure you’ve been denying yourself caffeine for too long, you deserve a lot better than what the hotel complimentary one has to offer.” He motions to the door with his head and God help me, I can’t decline. Everything in me ignites with the thought of only a couple of minutes in this man’s company. When I begin walking toward him, he holds his hand out again and I take it. He links our fingers together, kindling the butterflies to start fluttering.

Leading me away from the hotel, I wonder if I should message Libby just to let her know, in case Mr. Gorgeous is some axe murder. Before I can grab my phone, he opens the door to a huge pick-up truck and I climb in. While he’s making his way around the front of the truck, I text Libby a message that I’m going for coffee with Zach Greer and I’ll check in later. My phone dings as soon as he sits down in his seat.

Libby: So jelly…want details later.

I shove it back in my pocket as though he wouldn’t notice, but from the small smile gracing his lips, he did. “Tell
Mom
I promise to have you back in one piece.” His casual and laidback persona is a nice change from Nate’s neurotic one. I mentally fight with myself not to compare the two. Nate is long gone, probably fucking up someone else’s mind already.

Is it possible for a car to induce a feeling of safety? It has soft grey cloth seats and not a spec of dust on the dashboard. It’s a lot like my own car, minus the stockpile of ponytail holders in the cup holder.
Maybe I’m not so different than Zach Greer.

“So, Marisa, do you want chain or do you like to try out new places?” He glances my way and then back to the road.

“New places,” I answer and his smile widens.

“I’m glad,” he responds, “there’s the original King’s Gate coffee shop with a bakery attached just ahead. I felt bad when the chain came in and took some of their business. Most locals remain faithful to them, but King’s Gate thrives on their tourists so it’s made it hard.” I want to sigh and place my hand over my heart at the way he sounds so invested in this town and business. Instead, I nod and cross my legs.

I watch him eye my legs and then set straight again. “Are you a local?” Doubling back to our conversation last night that he never told me anything about himself.

He tilts his head left and right, debating his answer. “Yes and No. I moved up here about five years ago, so, I’m not sure what that makes me.”

“I would say local. Do you ever leave King’s Gate?” I ask and then wish I could take it back because I saw him in Anchorage last week.

He laughs, the deepest most welcoming sound I’ve heard in a long time. “Yeah, I’m not a hermit or anything.”

“I just meant, do you spend all your time up here?” I continue to ramble and he places his hand on my leg to stop me. An electrical current shoots up my leg, right to my center from his touch. I think I felt more heat from that one touch than all the years I was with Nate.
Ugh … stop comparing.

“I know what you meant.” He chuckles. “I do spend all my time up here. Last week, I had a business meeting in Anchorage.” The humor leaves him and the cab of the truck turns awkward. Sensing I pushed further than he wanted to go, I remain quiet for the remainder of the trip.

We pull up to the cutest bakery with a pink, green and purple sign out front reading Molly’s Coffee and Cakes. A cute image of a woman in an apron with a welcoming smile stamped right above the name. Zach parks diagonally on the street and I exit the truck before he has a chance to open my door for me, because that labels this as a date. I don’t want to be presumptuous that maybe it could be.

“Hmm … you are really going to make me work for this.” He lightheartedly laughs, placing his hand out to me again. My nerves calm with his declaration that I could be wrong.