Page 3 of An Alaskan Wedding (Alaskan Grooms 1)

What in the world was in the water supply in this town? No wonder women were giving up their lives in the 48 contiguous states and making tracks to Love. There were more hunky

men in this fishing village than she’d seen in Manhattan in the past few weeks together. Operation Love should be renamed Operation Hotties.

“Hello. I’m Cameron Prescott, the owner. And your new boss.” Prescott? As in related to the mind-bogglingly handsome Sheriff Boone Prescott? She studied him for a moment, recognizing the similarities between the two men. Although Cameron was Alaskan eye candy, the sight of him didn’t pack the same sucker punch that his brother had. That was a good thing, since she was going to be working for Cameron at the Moose Café.

In all the hubbub, how could she have forgotten? She’d taken a job as a barista. As part of her cover story it had been important to find a paying job in town. It was also a great way to schmooze with the townsfolk and get a feel for Love. Since her skills were pretty much limited to writing for a living, her options had been slim to none. Tony had found this barista gig on an Alaskan job search website and sent in an application on her behalf. Lo and behold, she’d been hired. She stuck out her hand to Cameron, only to find herself being enveloped in a huge bear hug. Not knowing what else to do, she clung on for dear life. As soon as he let go of her, he reached for Sophie, giving her the same enthusiastic greeting. When he let go he stood back and rubbed his hands together. “I can’t wait till tomorrow. This place should be pretty packed considering it’s Cappuccino Tuesday—a free baked good with any cappuccino order. It’s turning out to be a really great promotion. Hey,” he said, his expression full of excitement. “Why don’t I give you a quick tour of the kitchen? I promise to feed you afterward.”

Grace groaned on the inside. This job was definitely going to be challenging, considering she’d only managed a two-week stint at Java Giant before she’d quit after realizing it was too stressful. Although the smell of coffee drifting through the air had been an incentive, she’d never gotten the hang of whipping up the drinks and serving the actual customers. She grimaced as memories of disgruntled, loud customers came into sharp focus. These coffee-holics took their drinks seriously, and they didn’t take too kindly to inexperienced baristas messing up orders.

Fake it till you make it. That had always been her motto, and there was no need to switch things up at the moment. It had gotten her through some of the most difficult moments of her life. Gritting her teeth and smiling through the pain had served her well. There was no reason to switch things up now.

* * *

When the door to Boone’s office crashed open without warning, his Alaskan malamute, Kona, emitted a low, menacing growl. The hairs stood up on the back of Kona’s spine as the dog raced over to investigate.

“Hey, Kona. Good girl,” Declan crooned as he nuzzled Kona’s face and lavished her with the love and attention she craved. Within seconds Kona was wagging her tail and slobbering all over their visitor. Boone made a mental note to talk to his assistant, Shelly, about boundaries. Declan clearly had none, considering he never bothered to knock. His shameless flirting with Shelly gave Declan a direct line to his private office. All it took on his part was a wink and a smile.

Declan plunked himself down in one of the comfortable leather swivel chairs opposite Boone’s desk. From past experience, Boone knew it was a sure sign he was planning to stay awhile.

Boone raised his head and subjected him to a fierce scowl. “I thought you were heading over to the Moose. From the sounds of it, the whole town is over there.”

“I stopped in for an espresso,” Declan said. “And a few of those churro treats Cameron makes.”

Boone rolled his eyes at his best friend. A year ago he hadn’t known an espresso from a hot chocolate. Now all of a sudden he was a connoisseur.

Declan leaned back in his chair and slowly began to stroke his chin. “So, I saw you talking to the dark-haired one earlier on the pier. Ginny. Georgia. I think that’s her name.”

“Grace,” he said, his tone clipped. “Grace Corbett.”

Declan shot him a knowing look textured with twenty-plus years of friendship. “So, you got your eye on her, huh?”

Boone leveled a category-five glare at his best friend. “No, I do not have my eye on Grace Corbett. Despite my grandfather’s grand scheme to bring marriageable women and marry off the single men in town, I want nothing to do with it. And if I did want to fall in love and settle down, I certainly wouldn’t hand-select a woman who doesn’t have the brains God gave a goose.” Settling back in his chair, Boone let loose with a loud harrumph. “Sky-high heels. It’s a wonder she didn’t break her neck.”

Declan swung his feet onto the edge of Boone’s desk and leaned back in his chair, his hands propped behind his head. A wide grin showcased a set of pearly whites. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re not interested, ’cause there are a few men already staking their claim.”

Boone shot up in his chair. “Staking a claim? They aren’t pieces of property to be claimed, Declan. It’s chauvinistic comments like yours that got us into this sad situation in the first place.”

Declan waved a hand in the air. “Take it easy. I didn’t mean it like that. And I’m not taking responsibility for the woman shortage in this town. Those ripples started when we were barely a twinkle in our parents’ eyes.”

Boone lowered his head and tried to focus on the report set out before him on his desk. “So, who’s circling around Grace?” His voice came out gruffer than he’d intended.

“Why don’t you come with me to the Moose Café and find out for yourself?” Declan tossed out the invitation with all the grace of a major-league pitcher. He stood up from his chair, a sly grin etched on his face.

Humph, he thought grumpily. It was classic Declan to dangle a carrot in front of his nose, knowing he could never resist a challenge being thrown down. He’d been doing it ever since they were in the second grade. With a loud groan he surrendered, pushing himself away from his desk and making his way toward his office door. Much to his chagrin, his curiosity had gotten the better of him. Kona cocked her head to the side and proceeded to trail after him. With a quick hand signal and a one-word command, he had Kona settled back down in her dog bed.

With his best friend following behind him, Boone wrenched his office door open and strode down the hall past his bewildered-looking receptionist.

“I thought you were in for the rest of the afternoon,” Shelly called out after him.

“I thought so, too,” he mumbled as he strode out the door and beat a fast path across the street to the Moose Café.

* * *

Cameron beamed with pride as he finished the grand tour and led them back into the main dining area of the café. While they were in the kitchen, Sophie had asked all the right questions—while Grace had been praying that Cameron wouldn’t ask too many questions about their previous work experience as baristas. It was nice to see that Cameron was so gung ho about the Moose Café and all its trimmings. “It sure is beautiful,” Sophie said, her tone brimming with enthusiasm.

“Thanks. It’s my pride and joy. Why don’t the two of you take a seat and I’ll bring you something to eat?” He gestured toward the dining area. The crowd literally parted as they made their way to one of the tables by the window. There were lots of curious stares and hats tipped in their direction. Several men rushed forward to pull their chairs out for them and stick menus in their hands. Sophie was all polite smiles and thank-yous while Grace was still trying to figure out how she was going to wing it as a barista. Thankfully the place was only open six hours a day.

When she went to sit down she found the chair in front of her being wrenched to the left and then to the right. And back again. Two men were having a tug-of-war over the chair. They’d introduced themselves to her and Sophie earlier at the dock, although for the life of her she couldn’t remember either of their names. Henry? Theodore? She held up her hands, prepared to tell both of them to knock it off when they released the chair and began poking each other in the chest.

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