Just In Time: An Alaskan Nights Novel by Addison Fox Page A

later.”
    They sat quietly and Grier thought about how lovely it was to just sit there. Together.
    Even with her raging headache and sizable embarrassment for the massive drunk-fest, he was with her. And he loved her enough to not only not be upset about that fact, but to also bring her pancakes.
    “To add further credence to my breakfast ninja skills, I also come bearing a significant piece of gossip.”
    “Do tell.” She reached for the coffee he’d placed next to the bed earlier. It was cold, but still packed a punch.
    “I had breakfast with Avery.”
    Grier eyed him sideways. “Was she hungover?”
    “Nope, fresh as a daisy after she got over her precoffee morning puss.”
    “Bitch.”
    “Would you let me finish?” He snatched a piece of bacon from the open container.
    “Go on.”
    “Roman joined us, looking like he’d gone a few rounds with a pissed-off moose.”
    “What happened?”
    “He was all scraped up on his leg. Claimed he took a fall on his run.”
    Mick’s words set off a string of alarm bells and she set the container on her lap. “Claimed? Why would he lie?”
    “I can’t explain it, but something’s up with him.”
    “How so?”
    Mick shrugged and reached for a cube of roasted potato, dipping it in a pool of syrup. “I’m not sure. He just seems off and that’s the best I can explain it.”
    “The entire town is giving him and Avery the full-court press. That’s got to be difficult. For both of them.”
    “There is that, but I think there’s something else he’s holding back.”
    “He cares for her, too. And despite her protests, she cares for him. It’s got to be tough for them to be around each other.”
    “He about came off his chair when she started tending his wound.” Mick must have seen the question in her gaze because a big, cocky grin spread across his face. “Sweetheart. It doesn’t matter how badly wounded a man is, if a woman goes sticking her hands all over his thighs he starts suffering a bit differently.”
    “I see.” And she did, Grier realized, as the image of Avery tending to Roman’s wounds rose up in her mind’s eye.
    She’d seen it—hell, they’d all seen it—the way the two of them fell into this natural pattern they probably weren’t even aware of. There was a history of genuine love and affection between Roman and Avery, and when neither was busy fighting the here and now, that history reached up and grabbed both of them by the throats.
    Or by the thighs, as it were.
    She took another bite of pancake and chewed for a moment. “You think there’s something there? Something that can be salvaged?”
    “I know there’s something there. But as for salvaging it? I’m honestly not sure.”
    “Everyone deserves a little hope, babe. I think we’re a product of that.”
    He kissed her once more, this time lingering over her lips. “I know. I also know we got very, very lucky.”
    “Let’s hope a little of it rubs off on our friends.”
    •   •   •
    Roman was pleased the outside of the rink wasn’t nearly as bad as the inside, but it still needed a new roof and there were sections of brick that definitely needed some repair work. He shoved his phone back into his pocket and resolved to talk to Sophie about it that afternoon.
    “Where am I going to take the kids?”
    “You can take them on drills until things get fixed.” Avery had done her part, snapping photos with her own camera and taking some notes she’d promised to e-mail him. “Hockey’s not only about the ice.”
    “They’re going to be expecting time on the ice, though. Not jogging drills through town like they were at boot camp.” He turned over a few ideas in his mind. “We could use my mom’s van. The one she does airport runs with.”
    “Most of the wedding guests are leaving tomorrow. She needs it.”
    “Tasty still have his Suburban?”
    “Is the Pope Catholic?”
    “What about Hooch? He and Chooch have to transport all their sled dogs