Page 34 of Summer Weddings

“What are you looking at me for?” Christian snapped, his mood as surly with John as it had been earlier with Mariah.

“I just wanted to be sure you weren’t planning on asking her yourself.”

“Why would I do that?” The glance Christian gave Sawyer said he had more than enough problems with one woman.

John’s face broke into a wide grin of unspoken relief.

Christian grumbled something under his breath as he headed out the other side of the hangar. Sawyer followed him to the Hard Luck Café.

As they sat down at the counter, Ben stuck his head out from the kitchen. “It’s self-service this morning, fellows.”

“No problem.” Sawyer walked around the counter and reached for the pot. He filled two mugs. Meanwhile, Christian helped himself to a couple of powdered-sugar doughnuts from under the plastic dome.

“Getting back to Mariah,” Sawyer said when he’d finished stirring his coffee. He felt obliged to clear this up; in his opinion, Christian’s attitude needed adjustment.

“Do we have to?”

“Yes, we do. She’s proved herself to be a capable secretary.”

“The woman’s nothing but a nuisance. She can’t type worth a damn, she misfiles correspondence, and she habitually loses things. The accounts-receivable disaster this morning is a prime example.”

“I’ve never had any trouble with her,” Sawyer countered. “I’ve found Mariah hardworking and sincere.”

“She makes too many mistakes.”

“Frankly I don’t see it. If you ask me, you’re the problem.

You make her nervous. She’s constantly worried that she’s going to mess up—it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy, Christian.

Besides,” Sawyer added, “she’s gone to a lot of trouble to work things out with her family and settle this lawsuit business. I admire her for that.”

Christian obviously didn’t share his admiration. “I wish they’d talked her into returning to Seattle. That’s where she belongs.”

Sawyer merely shrugged. “Face it—Mariah’s going to stay the entire year. It’s a matter of pride with her, and that’s something we can both understand.”

Christian looked away.

“She isn’t so bad, you know.” Sawyer slapped his brother affectionately on the back. “There’s one thing you seem to have conveniently forgotten.”

“What’s that?”

Sawyer grabbed one of Christian’s doughnuts. He grinned broadly. “You must’ve liked something about her. After all, you’re the guy who hired her.”

“In other words, I don’t have anyone to blame but myself.”

“You got it.” With that Sawyer walked out of the café, leaving his brother to foot the bill.

* * *

In two weeks Bethany hadn’t seen even a glimpse of Mitch Harris. The man made himself as scarce as sunlight in an Alaskan winter. He must be working overtime, and she had to wonder if it was—at least partly—in an effort to avoid her.

Bethany could accept that he wasn’t attracted to her if that was indeed the case.

But the night they’d met and each time afterward, she’d sensed a growing awareness between them.

She knew he felt it, too, even though he doggedly resisted it.

Whenever they were in a room together, no matter how many people were present, their eyes gravitated toward each other.

The solid ground beneath Bethany would subtly shift, and she’d have to struggle to hide the fact that anything was wrong.

“Can I clean the blackboards for you, Ms. Ross?” Chrissie asked, interrupting her musings. The youngster stood next to Bethany’s desk. It would be very easy to love this child, she thought.

Chrissie had been her student for two weeks, and it became increasingly difficult not to make her a teacher’s pet. The seven-year-old was so willing to please and always looked for ways to brighten Bethany’s day.

If Bethany had any complaints about Mitch’s daughter, it was the number of times Chrissie introduced her father into the conversation. Clearly the girl adored him.

“Can I?” she asked again, holding up the erasers.

“Certainly, Chrissie. How thoughtful of you to ask. I’d be delighted if you cleaned the boards.”

Chrissie flushed with pleasure. “I like to help my dad, too. He needs me sometimes.”

“I’ll bet you’re good at helping him. You’ve been a wonderful assistant to me.”

Once again the child glowed at Bethany’s approval.

“My dad promised to pick me up after school today,” she said; she seemed to be watching for Bethany’s reaction to that news.

From other bits of information Chrissie had dropped, Bethany knew that Mitch occasionally collected his daughter after school. She herself hadn’t seen him.

“With your dad coming, maybe you should skip cleaning the boards this afternoon,” Bethany said. She didn’t want Mitch to be kept waiting because Chrissie was busy, nor did she want to force him to enter the classroom.

“It’ll be all right,” Chrissie said quickly. “Don’t worry, Dad’ll wait.”

Still, Bethany wasn’t confident that she was doing the right thing, especially since Mitch seemed to be avoiding her so diligently.

The little girl was busy with the blackboards, standing on tiptoe to reach as far as she could, when Mitch walked briskly into the classroom. His movements were filled with impatience. His body language said he didn’t appreciate having to come and look for his daughter.

As had happened before, his eyes flew to Bethany’s, and hers to his. Slowly she rose from behind her desk. “Hello, Mitch.”

“Bethany.”

“Hi, Dad! I’m helping Ms. Ross. I’m almost done,” Chrissie said lightheartedly. “All I have to do is go outside and get the chalk out of the erasers. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Mitch opened his mouth as though to protest, but before he could utter a word, Chrissie raced out the door.

Bethany and Mitch were alone.

They couldn’t stop staring at each other. Bethany would’ve paid good money to know what he was thinking. Not that she was all that clear about her own feelings. Their attraction to each other should have been uncomplicated, since neither of them was involved with anyone else.

True, John Henderson, one of the bush pilots employed by Midnight Sons, had asked her to dinner. She’d accepted; there was no point in sitting around waiting for Mitch to ask her out, and John seemed pleasant.

The silence between them grew. Mitch’s face was stern, his features set. Bethany sighed, uncertain how to break the ice.

“I hear you’re going out to dinner with John Henderson this evening,” Mitch surprised her by saying.

“Yes.” She wasn’t going to deny it.

“I think that’s an excellent idea.”

“My having dinner with John?”

“Yes.”

Their eyes remained locked. Finally she swallowed and asked, “Why?”

“John’s a good man.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask the reason Mitch hadn’t asked her out himself.

Mitch was attracted to her, and she to him.

The force of that attraction was no small thing.

Surely it would be better to discuss it openly, even if they didn’t act on their feelings.

She longed to bring up the subject and see where it took them.

But in the end she said nothing. Neither did Mitch.

Chrissie reentered the classroom, and Bethany slowly moved her gaze from Mitch to his daughter.

“The erasers are clean,” Chrissie announced. Her eyes were huge with expectation.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

“You’re welcome. Can I clean them again next Friday?”

“That would be very helpful.”

“Have a nice evening,” Mitch said as he walked out the door, his hand on his daughter’s shoulder.

“I will, thank you,” she called after them, but she didn’t think he heard.

The encounter with Mitch left Bethany feeling melancholy.

She accompanied Margaret Simpson to her house for a cup of coffee, hoping that a visit with the other teacher would cheer her up; however, she was distracted during their conversation.

Once she arrived home, she turned on her CD player and lay down on the living room carpet, listening to Billy Joel—which said a great deal about her state of mind.

Instead of being excited about her dinner date, she was bemoaning the fact that it wasn’t Mitch taking her out.

It was time to face reality: he wasn’t interested in seeing her.

She told herself it didn’t matter. There were plenty of other fish in the sea.

But her little pep talk fell decidedly flat.

Because John was afraid he might get back late from a flight into Fairbanks, he’d asked if they could meet at the Hard Luck Café.

Bethany didn’t object. She showered and changed into a knee-length, chocolate-brown skirt, an extra-long, loose-knit beige sweater and calf-length brown leather boots.

To dress up the outfit, she wove a silk scarf into her French braid.

She looked good and she knew it. Her one regret was that Mitch wouldn’t see her.

She’d like him to know what he was missing!

To her astonishment, there were only two other people in the café when she arrived. The men, whom she didn’t recognize, were deeply engrossed in conversation. They sat drinking beer at one of the tables.

“My, my, don’t you look pretty,” Ben hailed her when she took a seat in a booth near the window. Apparently he knew she was meeting John, because he filled two water glasses and tucked a couple of menus under his arm.

“Thank you.”

“I heard John’s got his eye on you.”

Bethany didn’t comment. Although she’d been in the café a number of times since her first visit, she was never completely comfortable with Ben. She’d moved to Hard Luck with an open mind about him. She had no plan other than getting to know this man who’d fathered her.