Just In Time: An Alaskan Nights Novel Read Online Free PDF Page A

kids?”
    “No.” Mort shook his head. “The rink’s in a bit of disrepair. We wanted to get it fixed but other things around town have needed more urgent attention, so we make do. It’s just frozen water, after all.”
    As if inspired by the frozen water reference, Myrtle looked into her large—and empty—margarita glass. “Let’s go before he changes his mind.”
    A spear of annoyance lanced through him; it was as if Myrtle thought he were some mouse she was trying to catch in a trap. “I’m not going to change my mind, Myrtle. When I say I’ll do something, I will.”
    Through what could only amount to years of quick saves, Mort placed one hand on his wife’s arm while offering up a wide smile. “Why don’t we meet for breakfast? I’ll take you over to the rink after and we can work out a schedule.”
    “Sounds good.”
    Roman’s ire faded along with Myrtle’s slightly tipsy totter on her three-inch red heels. He needed to get a grip on this pervasive streak of annoyance that lay just under his skin now that he was back home. While he enjoyed the relative anonymity of living in New York, he’d been missing Indigo for some time. Coming home with the temperament of a wild boar wasn’t going to get him very far.
    So why couldn’t he shake the sense that these people he’d known since he was a child really didn’t know him at all?
    “You look like you want to punch something.” Mick sidled up to him, his distracted gaze roving the room until it alighted on Grier. Just like that, his shoulders relaxed and he shifted his focus 100 percent to their conversation.
    “Myrtle.”
    “Since Walker utters that single word a minimum of eight times a day, you’re going to need to give me some context.”
    Roman glanced down into his glass and shook the ice. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
    “You sure?”
    “I’m not an asshole, am I?”
    “You’re fairly likable most of the time.” Mick took a casual sip of his beer before adding, “What prompted what I can only assume was a rhetorical question?”
    “Nothing, it’s stupid.” Roman scrubbed a hand over his cheeks, sorry he’d even brought it up.
    “No, it’s not. What happened?”
    “It was just something Myrtle said. She’s half lit on margaritas. It’s nothing.”
    “But it
was
something.”
    “Mort asked me to help out with the kids’ hockey team. Running drills and teaching a few days a week since the kids’ coach left town. And I said I’d do it and then Myrtle made a stupid crack about getting away while I was still saying yes.”
    “People don’t have much sense when they drink. Case in point: Sloan’s uncle laid a hand on Grier’s ass, which I’m still trying to calm down about.”
    “Is that who you were giving shit to over at the bar?”
    “It was a quietly worded suggestion as I got him a Coke to sober up.”
    “Suggestion?”
    “I told him if he didn’t keep his hands to himself I knew a cold, remote place on Denali I could drop him so no one would be any wiser.”
    “I can’t imagine Grier was too happy about that?”
    “Since he’s still babying his instep from where her heel accidentally slipped on it, I’d say he got the message.”
    “I love a woman who’s not afraid to use her stiletto.”
    “And seeing as how I love that
particular
woman and her best friend, I figured a quietly worded statement would be much preferred over a physical battle.” Mick shook his head as the uncle with dubious morals zeroed in on one of the town’s divorcees of a more appropriate age. “So summing up my original point, people make bad choices when they drink.”
    “The problem is, I think Myrtle would have said the same thing stone-cold sober.”
    “And you’re taking her word as gospel?”
    It was dumb to bring it up—even dumber to give it more than a passing thought—so Roman held off on saying anything further. He knew Mick was only trying to lighten the mood, but it wasn’t helping. And try as he might to ignore