Page 2 of An Alaskan Wedding (Alaskan Grooms 1)

“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 matter if it’s six or sixty. We’ll see if they last,” he answered with a sigh. “If they don’t, there’s going to be a lot of brokenhearted villagers. And even if this town has an abundance of women, it won’t do anything to solve our fiscal problems. With the cannery gone, everyone’s scrambling to come up with a way to bring income to town.”

Silence hung in the air for a moment as they both absorbed the cold, harsh fact of the matter. True love was a beautiful thing, but it wasn’t going to get the fishing cannery up and running, nor would it put money in the town’s coffers. Although things weren’t dire at the moment, a few years down the road it might all fall apart. Something needed to be done to turn things around, and he didn’t think Operation Love was it.

Declan jerked his chin in the direction of the two women and the welcome wagon that had encircled them. “They’re headed to the Moose. You going over? From the sounds of it, you could use a heavy dose of caffeine to pick up your mood.”

The Moose Café, one of the town’s most popular eating establishments, was owned by Boone’s younger brother, Cameron. Situated in the center of town on Jarvis Street, directly across from the sheriff’s office, it was a hangout for the locals. A few times a week Cameron brought in musicians who performed live for the customers. Other afternoons he allowed local artists to set up their painting and sculptures for sale. Although he himself wasn’t a big coffee drinker, folks raved about all the varieties of coffee Cameron served up. From what he’d heard, he’d been branching out by offering lunch specials and baked goods. His brother had told him a few days ago that he was expecting new hires today, two women who were flying in to Anchorage from the Lower 48. Clearly, Grace was one of Cameron’s new employees.

Somehow the image of Grace serving up java drinks, sourdough bread and cherry chocolate-chip cookies did not compute. He didn’t know why, but the image struck him as off somehow. She seemed like the type of woman who dressed up to go work and always had a purse to match her outfit. He shook his head, wanting to free himself of any more thoughts of Grace. It wasn’t as if he knew her, after all. He was merely speculating.

“No, thanks. I need to get back to the office.” With a nod in Declan’s direction, he turned on his heel and began walking back down the pier, right past Grace and her crowd of admirers. As he walked past, he couldn’t help but look in her direction. She was staring right at him, a smile illuminating her face. She cheerily waved in his direction and called out to him. “See you later, Sheriff.”

He raised his hand and waved back, stifling a mad urge to stick around and get to know Grace better. Something about the way she’d grinned at him warmed his insides. Even though he’d been testy with her earlier about her heels, she seemed willing to put her best foot forward. For the life of him he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so conflicted about something. Or so intrigued. Even though his legs were carrying him in the opposite direction of Love’s prettiest new resident, something inside him urged him to turn back around and stay a while.

As he settled himself behind the wheel of his cruiser, a dozen different questions were bouncing around his mind. Where had Grace come from in the Lower 48? Everything about her screamed city girl. Perhaps Boston, Chicago, Los Angeles or New York? Was it an adventurous spirit that had compelled her to relocate to Love? Or an open heart?

As images of Grace danced in his head, he couldn’t help but remember that the last time he’d fallen for a city girl, his heart had been handed to him on a platter.

* * *

Welcome to Love. The prettied-up sign with the crooked letters hanging above the doorway of the Moose Café had made Grace want to shout with laughter. The establishment was as girly as a men’s locker room. It was dark and dreary, all grays and browns, exuding an indisputably masculine vibe. Antlers hung on the wall, along with a dartboard and a retro framed print of a grizzly bear. Clearly, someone had wanted to impress the ladies by putting a few feminine touches in place. “Oh, this is lovely,” Sophie had gushed. She’d raised her hands over her mouth, green eyes moist with emotion. “This is such a sweet gesture.”

Sophie was right. It was thoughtful. And sweet. She wasn’t used to either. As a journalist living in a metropolitan area, she operated in a high-pressure world. Competition among her peers for stories was fairly cutthroat. Although she got along well enough with her boss at the Tribune, Tony wasn’t exactly the warm and fuzzy type. He’d never so much as given her a “thatta girl” or a thumbs-up. But that was all about to change, she thought. After she wrote this series on Love, Alaska, he’d be falling all over himself to pat her on the back. She might even get a promotion and a raise out of this, if she knocked it out of the park. Thoughts of a corner office with a view of Central Park danced in her head. She might even be eligible for a journalism award.

Within moments of entering the café the delicious aroma of baked goods wafted in the air. Grace lifted her nose in the air and sniffed. Cinnamon buns? Cookies? Whatever it was, the scent caused her stomach to grumble and her mouth to water. It had been hours since she’d eaten anything other than a stale bag of pretzels and a few handfuls of popcorn. She was famished.

“Ladies. Sophie and Grace, I presume.” She saw Sophie’s eyes widen as her jaw swung open. Grace followed her gaze until the trail stopped cold. The owner of the voice was tall and lean with chocolate-brown hair. Green-hazel eyes and a winning smile completed the picture.

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