1. Harley
Chapter One
HARLEY
“Grant is totally hot,” my friend Jodi said.
I almost spit out my coffee, sputtering, “What?”
“Oh, come on. Don't tell me you haven't noticed,” she said, her tone sly.
Jodi was a childhood friend. She'd come up to Alaska for a visit and spent a week with us recently, and we were catching up on a call.
“Grant was hardly around when you were here. He's not around much in general,” I added. That part was true. I hoped she didn't notice that I was dodging her comment.
“It's not like you have to see someone a lot to notice they're hot. Plus, you're avoiding my point. Don't you think he’s hot?”
I let out a sigh. “Sure. Objectively speaking.” I was relieved we were on the phone because my face was on fire.
“He’s got that whole smoky gaze. Can you call a man a smoke show?” she teased.
I laughed. “I don't know.”
Grant did, in fact, have smoky eyes. They were an unusual glacial blue with a charcoal rim. As Jodi had pointed out, he was totally hot. That man was in some serious shape and didn't even work out.
I happened to be standing in my bedroom, where a full-length mirror was mounted on the door. Glancing at my own reflection, I bit back a sigh. I could've called myself curvy if I was feeling generous about it.
I enjoyed food. There was a lot of good food here where I lived.
Oblivious to my train of thought, Jodi added, “I think you two would be good for each other.”
“What?!” I sputtered. “Grant can hardly stand me. Trust me, I don't think we'd be good for each other.”
“It's like in elementary school. The kid who’s the most annoying and picks on you totally likes you.”
“Can we drop this topic, please?”
“I’m sure it’s hard to ignore him since you have to live with him,” she teased.
I gritted my teeth and ground out, “As if I didn’t know.”
She chuckled. “I'll drop it, but you getting all defensive only proves my point.”
“Whatever.”
“I'm really glad I got to come up there and see you. Thank you for inviting me,” she said sincerely.
“Of course. I figure everybody should come to Alaska once. It was on my bucket list before Diego moved up here. Speaking of roommates, you could reconsider and move up here. I'm sure you can find a job.”
“I appreciate the thought, but I don't think I could deal with winter there. I'm a born and bred Texas girl, and I like it hot.”
I laughed. “Understood. The winters are cold. I'd be lying if I said anything otherwise.”
“Thanks for being honest,” she deadpanned.
We chatted a bit more, updating each other on the details of our lives. Just before we were about to end the call, Jodi teased, “Grant likes you!” in a singsong voice.
With a groan, I tapped the button to end the call.
I'd already said goodbye. I didn't need to take her bait and argue the point again.
Tossing my phone on the bed, I grabbed my laptop off the dresser and made myself comfortable propped against the pillows.
My job was mostly online. I worked as a freelance graphic designer and also did medical transcription.
I loved graphic design. Aside from my steady flow of online work, I also handled all of the marketing graphics for the outdoor resort where I lived.
Sometimes I worked downstairs because I often had the house to myself.
My cheeks got hot again even though I was alone in my bedroom.
Grant was hot and kind of cute. He was also a really nice guy.
I didn't fall for nice guys. Relationships weren’t my thing.
No way would I risk ruining this sweet setup by letting anything happen with Grant.
I had free room and board, awesome meals, and I lived near my brother.
I lived and worked at Walker Adventures, an outdoor resort in Alaska. It was just outside Diamond Creek, one of the coastal jewels of Southcentral Alaska. Diamond Creek was a beautiful little town nestled in the foothills of the mountains with the glittering waters of Kachemak Bay beside it.
My brother, Diego, was a pilot and flew for Walker Adventures.
One of his best friends, Flynn Walker, owned the place.
They'd been in the Air Force together. When I came up to visit, I ended up staying.
My brother used to live in the staff house at the resort, but he'd fallen in love and moved out to live with his girlfriend. That left me here with Grant and Cat, who were Flynn’s younger siblings.
Grant was busy, and he was gone a lot, which was a massive relief because I'd been crushing on him—hard—ever since I'd moved up here.
I kept telling myself I would get over it.
Unfortunately, my body was ignoring every memo I sent.
I tried to be stern with myself. I even had a few mental knock-down, drag-out fights with my hormones.
They were pretty powerful and had left my willpower feeling defeated.
I sighed aloud in the bedroom and tapped on my computer screen.
I had some work to do on the website for Walker Adventures, so I might as well focus on that right now.
We had plenty of business, but I wanted to up their website game.
I'd started creating profiles for all the pilots.
Of course, my naughty little index finger clicked on the tab that took me to Grant's profile.
Sweet hell. My pulse took off like a thoroughbred in a race.
There he was. Rugged and handsome with sharp, chiseled features. He looked a lot like his brother, Flynn. I clicked over to Flynn. Nothing, nothing. My pulse was all ho-hum.
I switched back to Grant. He had dark-blond hair and glacial-blue eyes with a charcoal rim, angled cheekbones, a straight blade of a nose, a square jaw, and full lips.
I clicked back to Flynn. Still zero physical reaction.
Flynn was happily married and deeply in love with Daphne.
I didn’t want to want Flynn. I really didn't, but if I could feel any spurt of anything with my hormones, then I wouldn't feel so crazy about Grant.
Jodi was right. Grant was hot. But she was wrong about him liking me. Although he was a nice guy, he treated me pretty much the way he treated his younger sister, Cat. I sighed again. I clicked out of Grant’s profile, abandoning that project to work on something else.
Hours later, I was asleep in my bed, minding my own business. I didn't know what woke me up, but I came awake abruptly. My laptop had slid off my lap onto the mattress. I heard a sound, and then I could have sworn I heard Grant's voice. What the hell?
I’d fallen asleep in a pair of sweatpants and an old T-shirt.
Rolling out of bed, I walked into the hallway.
Grant’s bedroom door was open, the lights were out, and there was no sign of him.
I hurried down the stairs, worry percolating in my thoughts.
I dashed out onto the porch when I heard more noise.
The motion-activated porch light was already on.
A giant bull moose was pawing the ground and snorting, all bossy-like.
“Grant?” I called.
“Yeah?” he returned, frustration evident in his tone.
“Are you okay?”
“For now. We need to chase this guy off.”
I studied the moose, who was completely ignoring me.
Glancing around, I saw the snow shovel propped in the corner of the porch.
It wasn’t winter, but the shovel had been waiting for its moment.
I snagged it and banged it against the railing.
The sound reverberated loudly. The moose stopped pawing the ground and turned to face me.
Its antlers were illuminated by the porch light.
A stab of fear galvanized me, and I banged the shovel again.
The moose took a step back, eyeing me warily.
I jogged to the base of the stairs and picked up a rock.
I threw it at him, hitting him in the rump.
The moose snorted, turning once more to look at me.
Another moment later, he seemed to decide it wasn't worth the trouble and loped off into the darkness.
“He's gone!” I called.
“I'm going to give it a minute to be safe,” Grant answered.
He waited until the sound of the moose’s hooves striking the ground faded. Meanwhile, I stood on the porch.
Grant approached in the darkness. Because my eyes were freaking annoying, I scanned him once he was within the circle of light cast by the porch. His gait had a slight hitch. Before I knew it, I was actually running off the steps.
“Grant! Are you okay?”
He stopped in front of me, and I looked up. He had a nasty scrape on his cheek and his shirt was torn. I could see blood staining the ragged fabric over his shoulder. “What happened?”
“The moose kicked me,” he said with a shrug like it wasn’t even a thing.
He stepped around me, walking up the steps and through the open door. I hurried after him.
“Grant!” I exclaimed as I slammed the door behind us.
He walked into the kitchen, grabbing a glass out of the cabinet and turning on the faucet to fill it with water. Seconds later, he gulped it down before he turned and looked at me. “I'm fine.”
“You're bleeding!” I yelped.
“My face isn't too bad,” he offered, lightly touching the scraped area.
“It's not your face. Obviously, your face got scraped.”
“Yeah, that’s when I fell,” he interjected.
“It's your shoulder.” I pointed at his bloody shoulder.
He glanced down, his eyes widening slightly. “Oh, shit. I didn't even notice that.”
“Adrenaline will do that,” I pointed out.
I crossed over to him. Manhandling him a little, I shoved him down in a kitchen chair.
“Let me get a look at that. You might need stitches.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. I do not need stitches, Harley,” he muttered.
I started to pull apart the fabric but realized it was dirty. “Take your shirt off,” I ordered.
Of all the things I never expected to say to Grant Walker.
He obliged, and I tried not to notice his muscled, bronzed chest with a smattering of amber hair. His shoulder was already swelling, and the cut was deep. “Is this where he kicked you?”
“I don't know. He charged me. It all happened really fast. I fell. I know I scraped my face on a rock or something. I probably cut my shoulder on something too.”
“We need to clean this up. I think we should take you to the hospital.”
“No. It's just a cut. The first-aid stuff is right in that cabinet.” He nudged his chin toward the corner cabinet.
I hurried over, fetching a plastic bin containing bandages, antiseptics, and so on.
Because this was Walker Adventures, the entire family and everyone working here were badass and outdoorsy.
They risked their lives on the regular flying in the Alaskan skies.
This was a seriously well-stocked first-aid kit.
“Let me clean it first. I’ll use warm water and soap and then disinfect it.”
A few moments later, I was eyeing the cut. It was clean, but it still looked terribly painful.
Grant glanced toward his shoulder. “Just put some butterfly bandages on it and then cover it with a larger bandage.”
“You know, you don't have to be all tough. Some stitches wouldn't be a bad idea.”
“I don't need stitches, Harley,” he insisted.
I rolled my eyes. My heart was still racing from discovering he was injured, and I was anxious and worried. The scrape on his cheek was starting to swell. “It’s going to look like somebody punched you in the face,” I commented.
“I'll just tell them you did it,” he returned with a wink and a quick grin. The very grin that sent my belly into somersaults on the regular and did so right now.
Despite his injured state, my hormones were disobedient.