An Alaskan Wedding. Belle Calhoune
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the waves of nausea continued to roll through her. She was blindly following Sophie, who was walking directly in front of her at a pretty fast clip. She heard Sophie cry out with a high-pitched squeal. Sophie stopped short, causing Grace to slam into the back of her. Grace found herself falling forward on the slippery pier with no way of catching herself. Suddenly she was being caught by a pair of strong, manly arms. She looked up, letting out a loud gasp as she laid eyes on the most ruggedly handsome man she’d ever seen in her life.
“Miss, are you all right?” His voice was low and husky yet smooth as silk at the same time. Wide-set, chocolate-brown eyes gazed into hers. Tiny flecks of gold ringed the pupils. Dark lashes framed his eyes. Sandy-brown hair peeked out from under his official-looking sheriff’s hat. A cleft sat in the middle of his chin, serving, no doubt, as a stamp of approval on an indisputably gorgeous face.
She coughed to clear her throat, giving herself a few seconds to gain some composure. After all, she was a competent, professional journalist, not some moon-eyed schoolgirl. It wasn’t as if he was the first nice-looking man she’d come across.
“F-fine. I’m fine,” she said as he firmly set her down on the pier. She wobbled for a moment, taking a brief second to get her bearings. Once she collected herself she stood up while leaning heavily on his arm to support her weight. For the first time she noticed that her rescuer towered over her. Now that he’d straightened to his full height, she had to crane her neck to get a nice view of his face.
He scowled at her, his chiseled features only enhanced by his fierce expression. Being on the receiving end of his disapproval felt like being doused with a bucket of ice-cold water. Hmm. Maybe he wasn’t as handsome as she’d first thought. He probably thought he was the cat’s meow.
“Those shoes are an accident waiting to happen,” he barked, his mouth set in grim lines. “This dock gets icy. You’re going to break your neck wearing them.”
Grace looked down at her midnight-black, designer heels. They’d cost her almost half of her weekly salary even though she’d bought them at a deep discount. Although she was grateful he’d saved her from falling on her face, she wasn’t about to let him denigrate her shoes.
“These shoes are sheer perfection. I bought them at a sample sale. And the only reason I stumbled is because—” She shot a glance at Sophie, who was chatting up a storm with an older man with white hair and whiskers. A few school-aged children stood nearby holding brightly colored welcome signs. Sophie was way too sweet to hang out to dry. And perhaps it was the icy dock’s fault after all. “It doesn’t matter why I was such a klutz, but it has nothing to do with these shoes. I’m a pro at walking in heels.”
“If you say so,” he answered, his tone infused with doubt.
“Thanks for the save.” She held out her hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Grace. Grace Corbett.”
“I’m Boone Prescott, town sheriff.” His grip was firm as he shook her hand with an air of authority. Something about the way he carried himself convinced her that he was a no-nonsense kind of man. And if the lack of a wedding ring meant anything, he wasn’t married. Not that it mattered any. She was here for a story and nothing else. Strictly business.
Her lips twitched at his introduction. Boone Prescott was the sheriff of Love. It sounded like a song. I’m the sheriff of Love. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sheriff Prescott pointedly raised his eyebrow in her direction. His eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head to the side as he gazed at her. His expression was almost identical to the one her boss gave her when she’d said something outrageous. Oops! Had she actually just started humming and singing her “Sheriff of Love” song out loud? If she had to hazard a guess by the look on Boone’s face, she had. And judging by his expression and the way he sauntered in the other direction, he was none too impressed by her vocal talents.
* * *
Boone stood at the end of the pier, his arms folded over his chest as he surveyed the mayhem swirling around him. It seemed as if every living, breathing male resident in town had decided to make an appearance today at the dock. He stroked his chin as he swept his gaze over the throng of people crowded around Grace and the other young woman with the fiery hair. He shook his head in disapproval at the men jockeying for position and jumping in to carry pieces of luggage for the two newcomers. They were acting like vultures.
Without meaning to, his eyes settled on Grace Corbett like laser beams. Unbidden, a sigh escaped his lips. Without a doubt, the woman was lovely. With her jet-black hair, blue eyes and creamy complexion, she had a unique, striking appearance. Her high-heeled shoes displayed her shapely legs to great advantage. She was bound to make a commotion in this small haven he called home. A slight tightening in his chest cavity accompanied that thought.
This time the sigh he let out was one of frustration. Why couldn’t things be more simple? Why did his grandfather have to muddy the waters by advertising all over the United States about the sad state of affairs in Love? And why did Grace have to look so downright appealing, inappropriate shoes and all? Four-inch heels in the wilds of Alaska? He shook his head in disbelief. Grace was jaw-droppingly beautiful, but he wasn’t about to give her a pass simply because she was the single most attractive woman who’d ever stepped foot into Love. For starters, she didn’t seem to have a lick of good sense. Walking around in four-inch heels in an Alaskan fishing village was a recipe for disaster.
Didn’t she know Alaska was a place filled with rugged terrain, unforgiving weather and a serious lack of fashion sense? On second thought, perhaps not. She looked every inch the city girl with her stylish down coat and fancy luggage. Her dark hair was adorned with a jeweled clip of some sort, and her makeup was flawless. He wasn’t a big believer in eye shadow or lipstick, but on Grace it looked spectacular.
He chewed his lip. What in the world was this type of woman doing in Love? The question buzzed around him like an annoying gnat. She was as out of place as a polar bear on a tropical beach. He knew from past experience about city girls who tried to make it in Alaska. Been there, done that. He had the scars to prove it. Thinking about Diana didn’t hurt half as much as it used to, he realized. Instead of feeling a stabbing pain in the region of his heart like he had in the past, all he felt now was regret. He wished he hadn’t spent all those weeks and months hurting over her. She really hadn’t been worth his time.
“Enjoying the view, Sheriff?” Declan O’Rourke’s familiar, teasing voice cut into his thoughts, serving as a much-needed reminder that he was still on the clock. Boone shot his best friend a look of annoyance and then made a point to look in another direction entirely. Now Grace Corbett was no longer in his line of sight. Although he could see a flash of cranberry in the corner of his eye, he willed himself not to look in her direction. It was easier said than done, he realized. Almost like not gazing at a glorious Alaskan full moon.
“No harm in looking, right?” Declan asked with a jab in his side.
He gritted his teeth. Maybe, just maybe, if he completely ignored Declan he would leave him alone.
“Did you see my two passengers? Can’t remember the last time we had two beauty queens come to town.” Declan let out a high-pitched whistle of appreciation. “Jasper really riled things up here, didn’t he?”
At the mention of his grandfather, Boone raised an eyebrow. “Jasper doesn’t know how not to shake things up. One of these days this experiment of his is going to blow up in his face.”
Declan’s mouth quirked. “It’s not exactly an experiment, Boone. It was a call to action, a bid to save this town.”
Boone let out a snort. “You sound just like him.” He shook his head at the idea of his grandfather’s crazy scheme being a good thing for the town. In the six short weeks of Operation Love, the town had been stirred up like a hornet’s nest. Little by little, women had straggled into town. Twenty-two in all. Some had left on the next thing smoking, while others had lasted a little more than a week. So far, fourteen had stuck it out.
“Hey, the proof is in the pudding. Six couples already. Six!” Declan said in a triumphant voice.
“Doesn’t