“You’re right. It’s just a surface wound. A little cream, a Band-Aid, and you’ll be fine.”
“Good thing, too. Think the closest thing you have to a doctor in this town is one hell of a cranky vet, right?”
“Doc? He’s not that cranky; he’s just sarcastic. Get him around his wife and kids and he’s a puppy. But Missoula isn’t that far for emergencies.” I dab a little antiseptic cream on the cut, then peel a fresh bandage and plaster it on in a quick swipe. “There you go.”
“Gonna kiss it and make me feel better, too?”
What.
I choke on my next breath before bursting into laughter.
I’m doubled over, clutching my sides, unsure whether his unexpected, deadpan joke makes me want to leap into a hole in the ground or just hyena-laugh my head off.
“Miss Felicity, you okay?” he asks.
“Are...are you sure Eli’s the kid between you?” I throw back, wiping a hot tear off my cheek.
“Every grown man’s just an overgrown boy.” He swings his leg a little, then pats his knee. “But you’re not a half-bad nurse. Already feelin’ better. So what about those rumors?”
This time when I choke, it’s on a little bitterness.
“So much for changing the uncomfortable subject,” I whisper.
“Hey, you don’t want to talk about it, we won’t,” he tells me. Simple. Matter-of-fact. Calmly accepting. “But it seems to be bothering you, so if there’s anything I can do to help...”
“Unless you’ve got a time machine hidden in that beard, no. You can’t help something you didn’t do.” I sigh, leaning back and looking up at him. Then I force myself to be honest. “My dad was a messed-up guy, and people around here have long memories. They figure I must be a lot like him, or maybe they just need constant gossip, so yeah. Rumors. About things they think I’ll do with men for money. And since you’ve got a kid, I figured you’d want to know the crap people will say about you coming back here alone with me before they get back to your wife.”
Ugh.
Did that sound like I’m fishing?
Alaska regards me gravely, though there’s no anger, no revulsion. Nothing but that same gentle curiosity, and I wonder why.
Why is he looking at me like he’s...
...I don’t know.
What could he possibly want to know about me to look on with such quiet interest, thoughtful and unwavering?
I get a little relief when he looks away, sweeping his thick hair back with a hand as thick as an ancient oak branch. His eyelids narrow, not quite shuttering, but there’s a pensiveness there.
“We got something in common. You mentioned your old man in the past tense,” he says. “We speak of Eli’s mother in the past tense, too.”
My heart jerks and goes spinning down in flames.
“Oh.” I swallow. “I’m so sorry, Alaska. That was insensitive of me.”
“You’re fine. I imagine it’s as complex as whatever led people to think you turn tricks for side money.” He smiles slightly, shifting his thick mass of a beard as black as coal in his fingers. “People can be so unkind, can’t they? What you do, with who, for whatever reasons...that’s nobody’s business but your own. I doubt there’s a lick of truth behind those rumors, but I’ll tell you something. Eli and I aren’t so fragile that we can’t handle a little mud flying.” He grins, suddenly brightening that hint of melancholy. “That kid loves getting dirty. Just ask him about dirt bikes.”
“You’ve got the dad jokes down, all right.” I laugh incredulously. “You really don’t let much get to you, do you?”
“I worry about what needs worryin’ about, Miss Felicity.” He shrugs, hefting those mountains for shoulders like they weigh nothing, pulling his shirt tight against his chest in creases of cotton strained to its limit. “Frankly, I don’t think your misplaced reputation needs any fussing over.”
I’m not expecting the quiet, easy way he says it.
So sincere.
So kind.
I’m definitely not expecting the way my throat closes up, my eyes prickling with heat.
Look, I’ve had a stressful few months. Years. Life.
I’m a little on edge, and a little emotionally raw.
But he saves me from having to fumble for words by turning a roguish smile on me, mock-squinting. “You, though. I’ve got my eye on you. I think you could be trouble.”
My laugh this time comes out weaker. “I wish that wasn’t true. I’m kind of a bad luck trap, Alaska.”
“Like an avalanche of coffee mugs?”
“Yep. Just like a mug storm.”
Another silence.
Another smile that makes my heart wobble.
Another long look from him, one that makes me wonder how he went from “coffee girl I vaguely recognize” to a sort of confidante in a matter of minutes. All over some smashed mugs and a cut on his knee.
But, hey, at least I’m not going to break down crying in front of a total stranger because he has mercy on me and changes the subject.