Silence settled over the table in the wake of Jasper’s departure. What now? Idle chitchat? Meaningless conversation? How about this bone-chilling Alaska weather we’re having? Do you come to coffee bars often? He was so out of practice making conversation with an attractive woman, it was downright pitiful. Perhaps he could use a few pointers from his grandfather, who hadn’t skipped a beat in his discussion with Grace.
Boone made the mistake of glancing around the café as his mind raced with things to say to Grace. A few men in town were openly glaring at him, clearly upset that he was spending time with one of the new arrivals in town. Ha! Some of them had no business even trying to talk to Grace. Hugo had been married and divorced three times over while Dean scared off most women once they realized he reeked of his bison farm. Ricky Stanton was staring at Grace with a forlorn expression etched on his face, a clump of droopy flowers clutched in his hand. Deciding to flex his muscles a little bit, Boone edged a little closer to Grace. Declan gave him a thumbs-up sign from his seat at the counter.
“I really admire Jasper’s gusto,” Grace said. “He seems like the sort of person who lives his life with conviction.” There was a wistful tone in her voice that made him curious about who Grace Corbett was as a person. Was she living life to the fullest? Or just existing? Had her heart led her all the way to Love? Or was she looking to shake things up in her world?
“You’re right about Jasper. He lives life to the fullest in a no-holds-barred kind of way. He’s had a few health scares recently, so I wish he would settle down some, but he’s pretty ornery. Please don’t take his comments about the legend to heart. This town is his whole life, and he’d believe in almost anything that might help us out of this financial setback. Hope is a wonderful thing, but banking on centuries-old treasure is kind of pie in the sky.”
Grace jutted out her chin. “I think it’s wonderful that he believes in something, especially after all he’s been through.”
Boone frowned. “So you read the article? And what he said about losing my grandmother?”
She nodded, her eyes radiating compassion. “Yes, I did. It was one of the most moving things I’ve ever read. Loving someone and losing them is a terrible thing.”
Boone shuddered as a dozen different thoughts roared through him. On the one hand, it didn’t sit well with him that Jasper had aired the family’s dirty laundry for all to see and read about with their morning coffee and Danish. On the other hand, it had been Jasper’s story to tell. He’d lived it. And Boone had no right to judge him for it. He’d done it for the greater good—to inspire women to move lock, stock and barrel to the place his family called home.
“He laid himself bare in that article, all in the hopes of inspiring women to come to Love and plant roots here. But Operation Love might not work out the way he’s envisioned. I don’t want him to get his heart broken all over again.” There was a ragged little catch to his voice, one born of suppressed emotion and tenderness. He locked eyes with Grace, and he knew she’d heard the emotion in his voice. He could see it reflected back at him in her eyes.
Grace’s expression fell, and she appeared shaken by his comment. “I’m not sure you can protect him against a broken heart, no matter how badly you might want to. Take it from me, hearts don’t come with a warning label.”
* * *
By late afternoon, the crowd at the Moose Café had dwindled to a few stragglers. Sheriff Prescott had taken off shortly after she made her comment about broken hearts. Judging by his reaction, it fell under the category of “too much information.” She shouldn’t be surprised. Most men shied away from conversations about feelings and heartache. Come to think of it, so did she. But there had been something so poignant and genuine about his desire to protect his grandfather. It had cracked her wide open.
Hearts don’t come with a warning label. Ugh! She couldn’t believe those words had tumbled off her lips. There must be something in the Alaskan air that caused blabber-itis. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.
After Cameron shut down the kitchen and coffee bar he laid out some basic rules about working for him. He seemed like a pretty laid-back and reasonable boss. He gave each of them a uniform—a custom designed T-shirt with a big brown moose on it. The words, Got coffee? had been printed on one of the antlers. There were also a pair of sweatpants with the words Moose Café printed down the side of one leg. Grace didn’t know what was more upsetting. The ugly brown uniform or the idea of coming to work tomorrow as a barista. She chewed on her lip, wondering if she should pull Cameron aside and confess her lack of real-world experience as a barista.
No, she couldn’t do it. It might cast her in a bad light and draw suspicion on her. She didn’t need anyone in Love questioning her reasons for being in Alaska. This series would rise and fall on the real-life experiences of the townsfolk. If she couldn’t get them to trust her and talk freely with her about their trials and tribulations, as well as the woman shortage...there would be no series. If they had any reason to suspect her, they might clam up. She was just going to have to channel her inner barista and do her best to whip up the best coffee drinks ever served at the Moose Café.
Since she and Sophie were both going to be living at the Black Bear Cabins, Hazel, their new landlord, had offered to drive them over. Grace was feeling a little jet-lagged after the long flight and the meet and greet with the residents of Love. It would be nice to get into some comfy clothes and relax. Something about the dark, dreary climate was making her more tired than usual. Not to mention that her fingers were itching to write up some of her observations on her computer before she settled in for the night.
The moment they stepped outside she noticed the sign reading Sheriff’s Department tacked on to the building directly across the street. She let out a sigh. Having the easy-on-the-eyes sheriff so close by might not be such a good thing. Being in Love had nothing to do with discovery or making a match with a hunky Alaskan man. It was all about her job. Staying here in Alaska for six weeks was a means to an end. This series about the citizens of Love, Alaska, would sell itself. All she had to do was write meaty articles and sprinkle them with slices of everyday life in this charming hamlet.
The minute Jasper had started talking about the Gold Rush and lost treasure, he’d totally captured her attention. It was the perfect angle for the piece. It added a historical perspective and a folksy charm that would hook readers. She brushed aside the kernel of guilt gnawing at her. There was no doubt in her mind that she would be subjecting this small village to considerable media once her piece about buried treasure in Love hit the presses. She prayed it wouldn’t turn into a media circus with treasure hunters descending on the fishing village in pursuit of riches.
It’s not my problem, she reminded herself. Eyes on the prize. In six weeks’ time this town would be nothing more than a memory for her. The only person she had any allegiance to was herself. And her job at the New York Tribune.
“It’s only about an eight-minute drive to the cabins,” Hazel explained as she navigated her truck along the snow-covered streets of downtown Love. Grace quietly took in all the quaint shops along Jarvis Street as Sophie chattered away in the front seat. There was a barbershop, a small bookstore called The Bookworm, a trading post, a post office and a pawnshop. Grace wrinkled her nose. Where were the nail salon and the beauty shop? Had her research led her astray? She’d been certain that at least one beauty shop existed in Love. Perhaps it had closed down or it wasn’t located in the center of town. Maybe nails and hair weren’t deemed important here.
“How do you drive in all this snow?” Grace asked, her eyes transfixed by the snowflakes swirling through the air. It fascinated her to see Hazel tackling the rugged, icy terrain as if it was no big deal.
“As