Northern Escape (8 page)

She made a concerted effort not to tense. “No. I haven't been back.”

“You should plan a trip around Christmas.”

She laughed and she knew it sounded a bit forced.
“It's not that easy to just take a trip when you own your own business, especially a restaurant. You should know that with your parents' place.”

“Yeah, true enough.”

They passed the medical center. The waiting room was packed. Even the unflappable Nelson appeared harried behind the mask he wore. Gus waved and Nelson returned the greeting.

“If Nelson and Skye get sick, everyone's out of luck,” Gus said, eager to talk about something other than New York.

“How close is the next nearest doctor?”

“You don't want to know.”

It was funny. When Gus had met both Skye and Tessa, she'd known both of them belonged in Good Riddance. Nick also fit in beautifully. Everyone liked him and he fully embraced all aspects of their little community, but even before he'd made it clear this morning, Gus had known with equal certainty he didn't belong here. He'd never stay.

And she didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

 

A
COUPLE HOURS LATER,
as they wrapped up the last of the decorating in the community center, Nick thought it very likely he was losing his mind. He'd never had a woman affect him this way. It was as if he couldn't get enough of Gus. On every level he'd been aware of her the entire time. It was as if he was consumed with the need to kiss her, touch her. And meanwhile it was as if they were on public display. As much as he liked
Good Riddance, there was precious little privacy to be found here.

“Can you drape that garland a little more to the left?” Luellen asked.

Nick shifted on the ladder and redraped the greenery per her request. Meanwhile Gus arranged spruce boughs at the judges' table. Clint had delivered folding chairs from Curl's, Tessa's new screening room/video rental place, and the nondenominational church that anchored the other end of Main Street.

“Looks great,” Luellen said.

Nick nodded and climbed down the ladder. The room did look pretty good. It was evident everyone was proud of their new facility. According to Clint, the final touches had only been finished yesterday.

“Anything else?” he asked.

Luellen looked around, her mouth pursed in assessment. “I think that's it. Gloria's going to finish up the papier-mâché around the stage and that's it.”

Gus checked her watch, a no-nonsense utilitarian affair. “If that's it, I need to be getting back. Lucky and Mavis should be almost done with the lunch crowd and I wanted to make a pot of chicken soup for Teddy and a pot for Curl.”

“We're done here. Thanks for your help,” Luellen said. Shifting her weight to her other foot she continued, “That's really nice of you to do that for Curl, especially since he lives alone.” She looked at the floor. “I could take it over for you once you get it made…if you wanted me to since you'll probably be busy.”

“Sure.” Gus smiled at Luellen. Every time she smiled,
it sent a little rush of heat through him, even when her smile wasn't directed at him. “That would actually be a big help. I'll give you a call when it's ready.”

Gus and Nick retrieved their coats and bundled up. They stepped out into the cold. The sun was close to exiting on the horizon. Once they were out of hearing distance of the community center, Gus shook her head. “It must be cabin fever.”

She'd lost him. “Cabin fever?”

A barking dog ran past them, a boy of about six in pursuit, calling out, “Ringo, wait for me.”

“Yeah. First there's Jenna crushing on Nelson. And now Luellen obviously has a thing for Curl. It seems to happen about this time every year. I think it's cabin fever.”

“You're serious? This is really a phenomenon?” It would explain much of his reaction to Gus. Granted, he hadn't been in winter lockdown mode like the rest of the town, but still…

“I'm serious as a heart attack. I noticed the same thing last year.”

“Well, it must be catching.”

“How's that?”

He caught her hand in his again. He liked holding it. He'd like to kiss her as well, but for now her hand in his was better than nothing. “Will you go out with me again tonight?”

Her smile gave him all the answer he needed. “Where are we going this time?”

Yes
. The day seemed to get a little brighter despite the impending sunset. “Once again, I have a connection.
How do you feel about shooting pool and throwing darts?”

They dodged a mound of snow on the sidewalk. “I'm not very good at either one.”

He laughed. “Don't tell anyone, but neither am I. It's really just a ruse to get you to say you'll go out with me again.”

She arched one eyebrow. “So we can play bad pool together?”

“Pretty much so I can spend time with you. Should I pick you up after work?”

“How about I just meet you there?”

He liked how she went along with the ridiculousness of meeting at her place after hours as a date. “That works. When we get back I've got to some things to do and I want to check out a couple of the artists, but then I'll be over to work as your galley slave again.” Each business in town was hosting two or three artists in their location. It spread traffic out and got people into the local shops.

She laughed. “You really don't have to help out. I appreciate it but I'm sure you didn't come here to sub in a restaurant.”

“That's the beauty of what I do. I can do whatever pleases me as long as I can pull an article out of it. And it pleases me to help you in your restaurant. I just need to make a few notes, write my post and send it.”

Once again, because he was used to studying people and watching their expressions, he saw the flash of apprehension that momentarily shadowed her eyes and tensed her jaw.

He stopped right there on the sidewalk, and turned her to face him. “Gus, I don't know who or what you're running or hiding from but you asked me not to blog about you or your establishment and I won't.”

Acceptance and a measure of trust were in her eyes, but there was also still darkness. He could almost feel the tension inside her. “Thank you.”

They resumed their stroll down Main Street. He wouldn't blog about her or her business, but that didn't mean he wouldn't keep digging until he uncovered the secret that put those shadows in her eyes.

N
ICK WALKED INTO THE AIRSTRIP
center an hour later, having stopped by every business to check out the artists and their crafts. The airstrip office was hopping, as well. Merrilee had set up a landscape painter in the front, a beader in the middle of the room and a flute carver over near the bank of windows overlooking the landing strip out back. The hum of conversation along with the aroma of coffee, cookies and wood smoke hung in the air.

Merrilee was busy talking with the wood-carver and the three or four people. She wore a smile but there was no mistaking the dark circles beneath her eyes. He knew with a surety his time with Gus last night had put them there.

Grabbing a cup of coffee and snagging a couple of cookies—chocolate chips were his favorites—he headed upstairs to his room. He'd check out the artists later, on his way to the restaurant. Right now, he was eager to get his thoughts down.

Settled in his room, he made notes on his laptop, wrote his latest post, and made short work of the coffee
and cookies. Nick set his computer to the side and leaned back against the headboard. Grabbing a pen and notepad, he began to make a list of what he knew about Gus and her situation.

Left New York four years ago. Changed her name. Didn't travel now. Did not want her business in his blog. Merrilee's friendliness up until she found out Nick's occupation. Restaurant wasn't in Gus's name. No public records on her at all. The shock of white in her hair a result of extreme stress. Merrilee extremely protective. Gus, friendly but holding herself apart from the rest of the town. Shadows in her eyes.

He closed his eyes and thought. There had been something yesterday and then today. Something that struck him as similar chords. Got it. He opened his eyes. It was the look on her face when he'd asked her if she'd ever had a close call and she said she'd been engaged. It was the same expression she'd assumed when he'd asked her today if she'd ever returned to New York. Both questions had elicited a neutral expression and sometimes that could be as revealing as wearing your emotions on your face. It meant she was carefully hiding her true response to both of those questions.

He began to doodle on the page and draw arrows from one part of the list to the other. He stopped and read through his notes one more time.

He reorganized his notes, listing them in as close to chronological order as possible. A picture emerged. It was pure deduction on his part, but that's what solved cases and mysteries.

Putting all the parts together, his best guess was Gus
had an engagement that had gone bad. He'd speculated she was running from someone and that was her ex-fiancé. It would explain the name change, the not dating anyone for the last four years, and the general protectiveness surrounding her.

And the way he saw it that fiancé was still in New York. Merrilee's demeanor had changed when she'd found out he wrote for the
Times.
Gus had point-blank asked him not to mention her, which told him if he did, this man could then find her. It also told Nick if she'd gone to those measures, this man was dangerous in the extreme.

If he was right, and his gut told him he was, he was even more determined to solve this and do something about this guy. And now, there was an equal measure of desperation gnawing at him. The thought of anyone threatening Gus made his blood run cold with a fury he hadn't known he possessed.

If she would just trust him, and he knew that wasn't something that would come easily, he could help her. Without a name, hers or her former fiancé's, Nick's hands were tied.

 

I
MPATIENCE RACKED HER.
Gus had always taken great pleasure in preparing food and having people enjoy it, in the scents and sounds of running a restaurant. Tonight, however, she simply wanted everyone to finish clearing out so she could have her date with Nick.

And she was dead certain Nick had the same idea. More than once tonight he'd sent a smoldering glance her way. She'd smoldered right back at him. Her body
had felt too tight for her skin all afternoon. She'd obviously caught the cabin fever, too.

“Psst, Gus, hey.”

Jenna, at the edge of the pickup counter, waved Gus over. “Hey, have you had any luck in coming up with…well, what we talked about the other day, ya know,
the recipe?
”

Oops. Guilt pinged her. She'd been so wrapped up in Nick, in herself, she'd forgotten all about Jenna's recipe request.

Gus had no idea what the heck she was going to pull together for Jenna, but she'd come up with something. “I promise I'll get something to you tomorrow. How's Curl?”

As with Gus and some of the other business owners, Curl lived above his business. It was much more efficient to build up than build both a business establishment and a separate residence.

“He was better when I left this afternoon. Luellen brought by your soup. She stayed with him for a long time.” She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I think she might like him. Just give me a call when you've got it ready. I'm pretty booked tomorrow because of the pageant, but I'll find time to run over and pick it up. I'm desperate. You-know-who doesn't seem to know I'm alive.”

Gus felt terrible for Jenna. This situation had heartache written all over it. But she just couldn't bring herself to crush the other woman's hopes. “I'll see what I can do, Jenna.”

“Thanks, Gus. You're the best, right behind Merrilee.”

Funny how Merrilee and Jenna had become close when the only things they really had in common was they were women and they'd both had the bad taste to get involved with Tad Weatherspoon but the good sense to dump him.

“I'll call you tomorrow,” Gus said.

Jenna drifted into the dining room and Gus got back to work. Finally, she locked the door behind her last customers and turned around. Even though Merrilee had protested, Gus had refused her help this evening. Between Chrismoose and the stress of the situation with Nick, Merrilee had clearly been exhausted. Bull had helped with the bar until around nine when Gus had insisted he check on Merrilee.

She and Nick had been busy the last hour, but it had been manageable. Now Nick stood in the kitchen opening. “You know, I spend more time alone in a city of thousands than I do in your town of hundreds,” he said with a smile.

Gus nodded. “And especially here in the restaurant and bar where there's always someone around from six until ten.”

“Trust me, I've figured that out.” He lowered his voice and his look sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine. “Come here, Gus.”

She crossed the room on unsteady legs, her heart thumping in her chest like a mad thing. She stopped in front of him. “Yes? You wanted something?”

He bracketed her face in his hands. “Yeah. This. All day.”

Nick slowly lowered his head and feathered his
lips over hers. She sighed and linked her arms around his neck, holding on. It was nice, but it wasn't nearly enough. She wanted more. Gus pressed her lips more firmly against his and turned it into a real kiss.

Oh, oh, oh. His mouth was heaven against hers. It felt as if it had been an eternity rather than a mere day. She buried her fingers in his hair and relished the feel of his body against hers. It faintly registered in the back of her mind that the last time a man had been pressed against her it had been menacing. She pushed the thought aside and gave herself over to the here-and-now experience of kissing Nick in her kitchen.

He deepened the kiss yet even further, his tongue seeking entry to her mouth. She opened herself to him. He tasted faintly of curry—from one of her dishes he'd sampled tonight—and he smelled deliciously like man and aftershave, or maybe it was deodorant. Who knew? She just knew she liked it a lot—his feel, his heat, his cent, his taste, and most definitely his touch.

They finally broke apart, coming up for air and a bit of reality settled in for her. “We have to do the nightly cleaning.” Her voice was definitely unsteady.

“I know.” His breath was as ragged as hers. “How about we make it quick? I've got a date tonight.”

She laughed. “Good help is so hard to find.”

“Woman… Let's get this done.”

He was a man with a mission, and truth be told, she had the same mission. They cleaned the place in record time.

Nick paused at the door to the B and B. “Back here in half an hour?”

Gus laughed at how flatteringly eager he was for their date. She was, too, but she needed more than half an hour for hair and makeup. “Forty-five minutes.”

“I'll be here.”

“See you then,” she said, crossing to the door to her private quarters upstairs. She felt him watching her.

Gus opened the door and stepped into the stairwell, closing the door behind her. She leaned back against the wood panel. What was it about Nick that she felt this connection? It had zapped her from the first moment she saw him—in reality, far before she'd ever actually met him. Was it that he pitched in without complaint regardless of what needed to be done? Was it his tales of travel? The way he listened when she spoke, as if he really wanted to know what she had to say?

Perhaps he represented the New York she'd loved but left behind. Maybe he was the rest of the world to her small corner in Good Riddance. Could it be because from the moment she'd laid eyes on him, her sexuality, dead for the last four years, had been resurrected?

Gus really didn't know for sure. Maybe it was all of the above. The one thing she knew for absolutely certain was while he was here, she wanted Nick Hudson and she meant to have him.

 

N
ICK MADE IT BACK OVER
to the restaurant in record time. He knew he'd be ahead of Gus but that was fine. He poured each of them a drink, before killing the lights in the bar, the kitchen, and the front two-thirds of the restaurant. The Christmas tree lights twinkled merrily in the dark. Placing their glasses on the table, he racked
the balls on the pool table. It was odd how everyday mundane things took on a fun quality with her.

She had a ready smile and a friendly word for each of her customers and he got the impression it wasn't simply because they were customers. But beneath it all was a wariness, a reserve. He'd spent enough time around people to recognize a woman with major trust issues when he met her. Gus held everyone at an arm's distance, except for Merrilee which was no surprise considering they were family.

He crossed to the jukebox and selected some of the same music they'd both enjoyed last night. They had similar taste in music. Actually, they seemed to have quite a bit in common.

He was so sure he'd figured out what was going on with her, or he was at least damn close. Whenever they spoke about New York she lit up. She was interested in the places he'd traveled. She didn't belong here. She got along well enough with everyone but it wasn't as if she fit here the way the other citizens did.

He heard her footfall on the stairs and turned, waiting. His breath literally caught in his throat when she opened the door, a smile curving her lips. Her dark hair framed her face. That white streak always gave her a striking look along with the almond shape of her eyes. She'd pulled on a black top that hugged her curves in all the right places, jeans and silver hoop earrings.

“You look lovely,” he said. For a man who made his living with words, that seemed terribly inadequate.

“Thank you. You clean up pretty nicely yourself.” He'd also opted for jeans, and a long-sleeved polo shirt.
She moved into the bar, closing the door behind her. “So, are you ready to see which of us is worse at this game?”

He laughed. “I know any self-respecting man should be ashamed to admit it but I'm pretty bad.” He indicated the glasses on the table near the pool table. “A drink before we start?”

“It sounds good to me. Actually, it can only improve my game.”

“I hear you on that.”

He held her chair for her and then joined her at the table. Her knee brushed against his and awareness arrowed through him. Their eyes met and the memory of their kisses was there between them, but by unspoken agreement they decided not to rush. They'd get there.

“Clint said you took over the restaurant from someone else?” Nick had done a public records search earlier and learned Bull Swenson owned the building and held the business license for Gus's.

“I took it over and then I expanded some. Good Riddance's population had grown a good bit since the original building was built about fifteen years ago. It was always packed in here and I was pretty sure I could draw an even bigger crowd.” She smiled and pointed to an area near the third table out. “That's where it used to end. The living quarters were pretty tight so we expanded the second floor, as well.”

“My place in New York is small. I figure why put out a lot of bucks for a bigger space when I'm there so seldom.” Nick glanced around the room. “If it's the same size as down here, you've got a big place up there.” And
hell, yeah, he was angling. He wanted to see where she lived, where she relaxed. He wanted a glimpse of the private Gus behind closed doors.

There was a pause, and he could see she was trying to make up her mind. Finally she said, “Want to walk up and have a look around?”

Instinctively, Nick knew it wasn't an invitation she issued often or lightly. In fact, he'd bet his next paycheck she'd never invited a man up to her living quarters.

“You're just stalling on the pool, aren't you?”

She laughed. “Absolutely. Busted.”

“Me, too.” He stood. “I'd love to see your place.”

“This way, then.” She grabbed her drink and headed toward the door. Opening it, she flipped on the light switch and stepped aside, waving her hand toward the stairs. “After you.”

The urge to kiss her again was almost overwhelming but he showed a little self-control and refrained. He didn't want to do a damn thing to spook her when he was so close to being in her private space.