No Gentle Giant by Nicole Snow
All That Glitters (Alaska)
Ilove a good sunset.
But seeing them consistently by seven p.m. every night sure as hell weirds me out.
I’m from the land of the midnight sun. In Fairbanks, we don’t see sunset till it’s almost tomorrow sometimes, and I’m used to falling asleep with that bright glowing ball still high in the sky or hiding itself completely for months.
Today, though, I’m sitting on the back porch after dinner, lounging at the cozy little cabin I’m renting at the Charming Inn, just watching the sun sink below that pretty flower-decked cliff.
I’m supposed to be enjoying a beer and watching the stars come out. My nightly ritual.
Instead, I’m listening to Eli’s voice drifting through the window. He’s in the living room, screwing around on his tablet and talking to himself as enthusiastically as if he’s got a live audience.
He does that.
It’s funny most of the time, and right now he’s mumbling over cat treats like he’s just struck gold.
All because I told him it was cool to pick something out online to try to make amends with that ball of grizzled tangerine that looks like someone stripped a pipe cleaner and clumped the fuzz into a cat.
We’ve seen Mozart around a few times since yesterday, though he’s apparently mad enough that he’s ignoring Eli instead of coming around begging for scraps like usual.
Not gonna lie, I was a little worried after he scampered out of Miss Felicity’s coffee shop with that dog barking at his heels. Still, Ms. Wilma herself told me he’s a roamer, and he always finds his way home—just like he always seems to bond with the summer kids who come through here with tourists or new transplants.
A lot like Eli himself.
Guess he’s a transplant now, huh?
I’m glad.
My boy means everything.
And after everything his mama put us through, we’ve learned to rely on each other.
It’s been hell not having him with me during the months I spent here with Holt last year, getting set up, working out whether or not this was a place where I wanted to put down roots.
I had to decide if, after all the hell I’ve heard about this town, it’s a good place to raise my boy into a young man.
Heart’s Edge has one hell of a colorful history.
Everything from ghost stories to secret agents to ghost towns. Half the folks here lived through several real-life thrillers over the last decade, and the last big blowouts left millions of dollars in damage needing to be rebuilt over the lenses of tourists and a gaggle of national reporters.
Even so, I’ve got a good feeling about this place.
I couldn’t leave my kid in Fairbanks any longer, either.
Sure, he was having fun, getting spoiled as hell by his grandparents over the summer. My mom and dad haven’t spoken to me in a while.
Age-old complications from me picking the wrong side when it came to my family and my wife, even if I thought I was doing the right thing at the time.
Thankfully, with Katelyn and her “bad influence,” as Ma put it, out of the picture, it’s different now.
My folks were overjoyed for a chance to spend last summer treating Eli like a prince, while I worked my ass off putting away a tidy nest egg to settle down with and scouted this place out to see if it could really be home.
Yeah.
I think I could settle down in Heart’s Edge, and not just because there’s a certain pretty lady who’s caught my eye.
A certain pretty lady who’s probably pretty pissed at me right now, considering I still owe her a nice chunk of change for those mugs Eli obliterated.
I’d like to stay on Miss Felicity’s good side.
Not just because she’s the primary source of caffeine that keeps my crew on their feet all day, either.
Because I haven’t looked at a woman in a long damned while.
Not after that mess with Katelyn, the divorce and custody crap even before she died. It felt like a good idea to stay far, far away from anything but friendship with the fairer sex.
Then came last night.
I don’t know what the fuck happened.
There was something about Felicity.
A lot of things about her.
The way she dove to protect Eli.
How she fussed over that tiny cut I didn’t even feel, insisting on looking after me rather than staying mad that my kid just smashed up her merchandise.
Plus that quiet, sad way she talked about herself, all while trying to protect me and Eli from the dangers of her supposed reputation.
I know what I thought when I was looking at her with that pretty cinnamon-brown head of hair bowed over my knee with her eyes so lost.
Her lashes were lowered over gently angled eyes that normally give her a sly, laughing look. This time they just turned those soft violet-blue depths in her head sad and dark and reflective.
The storm in my blood hit like two colliding fronts.
I was so goddamned angry.
I didn’t want her to see it, didn’t want her to think I was angry at her, but holy fuckdo I hate when people take it on themselves to hurt other people for their own amusement.
All that shit about gossip? Rumors? Those horrible things people say about her, and she’s stilltrying to protect other people from it like it’s her fault?
I don’t know her from Eve.
Whatever.
I just know right then, I wanted to step in. Step in and stand between her and everything poisoning her life the very same way she stood between Eli and getting hurt.
She’s always been the coffee chick before yesterday.
Sweet, nice, pretty to look at, but just kind of background noise during the times I made my grab-and-go runs.
Now, she’s pried my eyes wide open.
Now, abraca-frigging-dabra.
She’s Miss Felicity and I think I’ll never see her as anybody else.
Call it rash, but suddenly I give a good goddamn what she thinks of me.
Suddenly, I give a lot of damns about her.
And I don’t want her thinking I’m the kind of dude who dodges his debts.
I know what it’s like to run a business. Sometimes it’s fifty bucks in cashflow that makes the difference between staying open one day and having to shutter up the next.
I took the cash out of the ATM this morning. And I promised her I’d bring it by quick, but work turned into a frenzy with working a late-night shift on that wiring, taking a nap, and coming right back in this morning without even time to stop for coffee when we’re working on an inspector’s schedule.
By the time we wrapped up today, I needed food and a drink before I could even think about being human around anyone but my son.
Thank the gods of sandwiches I’m human now.
So if I want to catch her before she heads home, I’d better get moving.
I toss down the last of my beer and pitch the bottle in the little outdoor bin, then lever myself up with one last longing look for the twilight sky.
Shit, I hadn’t noticed how much time passed, me sitting out here making Felicity queen of my head.
I realize Eli’s gone quiet.
When I look through the glass of the back door, he’s curled up in the corner of the couch, half drowsing with his lidded eyes on the TV.
I step inside and close the door quietly so I don’t startle him, then cross over to the sofa and rest my hand on top of his head, gently ruffling his hair.
“Hey, little man.” I smile, watching as he jerks with a sleepy snort before blinking up at me muzzily. “I’m gonna drop by and give Miss Felicity her money. You want to come, or you ready for bed? I can send the Fords around to check on you.”
He perks, instantly awake, eyes shining.
“Can I bring my camera?”
I raise my eyebrows. “You want to take pictures of an empty café this late?”
“Well...yeah.” He lowers his eyes sheepishly.
That makes me smile fuller than the moon and belt out a laugh.
He’s a bright boy, and he gets all shy whenever you bring up his photography. It’s how you can tell he loves it—that and the way he lights up anytime he gets a chance to even talk about it.
“I bet it’d make for some cool black-and-white shots with the way the lighting’s set up. All those little gleams of light, you know? Or if I adjust the aperture ring just right, I can do it in color, but make it so only the golden reflections pop and then—”
There must be something in the way I’m looking at him. Because he stops mid-speech, looking at me and turning bright red.
I can’t help it.
I’m damned proud of my boy.
After everything he’s been through with losing his mom, with me hauling ass to find steady work, it makes my chest blow to see him so lively and passionate. He’s growing up with a spark in him, and I feel like I’m not letting him down by keeping it alive.
“You were saying?” I urge, folding my arms.
Clearing his throat, he says a bit more gruffly, “I mean, it’s just easier when it’s later like this, Dad. ‘Cause I have to ask everyone for permission if they’re in the shot, and if Miss Felicity’s the only one there, then I only have to ask her...”
“As long as you make sure you do ask. Glad you remembered.” I ruffle his hair again, then snag the collar of his shirt and tug. “C’mon. Bring your tablet, and I’ll finish that online order for you, too.”
Eli practically bounces after me out to the car. Before we start up my Jeep, I tap through the shopping interface to check out for him.
Sure enough, he’s gotten some kind of smelly fish treats, meaning I’ll have to resign myself to the cabin stinking like a cannery till he and Mozart have made up.
It leaves him beaming, at least, as we make the drive from the outskirts. Charming Inn dominates the fields and bluffs at the edge of town, and we’re heading into Heart’s Edge proper.
Dusty little place. Looks like every truck-stop diner town in the Pacific Northwest, but it’s slowly growing while keeping its rustic charm.
I’m part of the reason it’s blowing up. My boss, Holt Silverton, grew up here. When his construction biz failed in New York, he came home to lick his wounds and brought his crew with him, starting up fresh.
The work hasn’t been half bad.
The views, even better.
In New York City, I missed being able to see the sky, unfettered and strewn with stars.
Maybe there’s no aurora borealis here in Heart’s Edge, but I get to see the night unfiltered by city lights, the Milky Way sprawled out in a path that feels like it’s leading me to something big.
Something special.
A treasure map of sorts.
Damn, why do I have this weird feeling in my chest, all curious and wondering?
I’ve been out of the dating pool for so long I don’t even know if this is what it feels like to have a crush on a pretty lady.
Technically speaking, taking that money in could’ve waited till morning.
There’s just something hot and prickly under my skin about wanting to see Miss Felicity again. No denying it.
Look, I’m a cautious man, but sometimes a man lets impulses lead.
By the time I park my Jeep in front of The Nest, I wonder.
This feels less like impulse, and more like raw intuition telling me I’m here for a reason.
And I think Miss Felicity could use a little help.
There’s a battered old station wagon in the parking lot—her beater I’ve seen around town.
Next to it, there’s this tall, slick, shiny SUV that looks like it just rolled off the assembly line yesterday after being tricked out to the nines.
My gut churns.
I get the briefest glimpse of a woman, petite and blond in the back seat, before tinted windows roll up. It’s the big guys tumbling themselves into the front and back that worry me.
I know the militant, focused way they move.
I know that type.
Roughnecks.
The kind of dudes where you take one glance and know they’re up to no good.
What the hell do they want with The Nest? With Felicity?
Especially when they’re carrying what looks like zippered bank bags.
Especially especially with the way they go tearing out of the lot, fishtailing it so fast they manage to tear up dust on dry concrete and leave skids of stinking, hot-smelling rubber in arcs on the pavement.
Shit.
I don’t think they even noticed me, stalled in the street just before the café and with my brights turned off so my vehicle blends into the darkness.
Still, I don’t move till they’re gone, weighing my options.
I’m worried about Felicity.
I’ve got a son to care for, too.
Eli’s a smart boy—the second he saw those guys, he ducked down in the seat, shrinking himself small and holding still, staring up at the dash with wide eyes.
Eyes narrowed, I watch their taillights retreat in glaring red dots, then glance at Eli.
“It’s okay, polecat.”
He scrunches his nose at me.
He’s gone pale as a little moon in the shadows, his eyes still too wide. “Dad! I’m too old for you to call me that.”
“Never too old.” Especially not when I can tell he’s freaked out. I reach over and grip his knee, squeezing. “It’s okay. They’re gone. We’re just gonna check in on Miss Felicity and make sure she’s all right.”
He swallows, his mouth turning down and crimping at the corners, his brow wrinkling.
“Do you think they hurt her?” he asks in a small voice.
“They’d better hope not,” I answer grimly. The razor-edge in my voice surprises me, but suddenly there’s a wary tingling on the back of my neck, an urgency building in my blood.
Felicity’s fine,I tell myself.
Even so, I won’t be satisfied until I see for myself.
I kick the engine into gear again, turning in slowly so the noise won’t startle Felicity, making sure to flash my lights as a bit of a warning that I’m coming.
Just in case, though, as I park I murmur, “Stay in the car. Don’t unfasten your seat belt. I’ll tell you when it’s safe to come in. If you see them coming back, get under the back seat and text me. Don’t come out no matter what you hear, if that happens.”
“Okay, Dad,” Eli whispers.
His face is still pale, but he’s steady and listening attentively.
He’s a good kid.
If anything goes wrong, I know he’ll do what’s right.
Clapping his shoulder one more time, I step out of the SUV, slam the door shut, and lock it before approaching The Nest slowly.
One glance makes my stomach twist like a stripped screw.
I can already see the mess inside, a tangle of chaos in the smoky golden light spilling through the tall windows out front.
Looks like the place was tossed, a whirlwind of papers and disposable cups and coffee grounds flung everywhere. The confections in the display case are ruined, right down to the grubby fingerprints gouged through a cake, leaving furrows through the icing.
My eyes search frantically and I double my steps, reaching for the door.
That’s when I see something worse.
Right there in the middle of the bedlam.
Kneeling on the floor.
Felicity Randall.
She’s got her face buried in her hands, her hair tumbled over her face in mahogany ribbons, her slim shoulders heaving as she sobs and sobs and sobs.
Fuck.
