Just In Time: An Alaskan Nights Novel Read Free

O’Shaughnessy and the groom-to-be, Walker Montgomery.
    Walker took the bottle midpace across the hotel room they were using as a groom’s suite. “Did everything get here?”
    “I left all of it in Anchorage.” Mick took a long drag off his new bottle as Walker’s mouth fell. “Oh for God’s sake, I put everything in the damn plane myself this morning. And I was out of here at six a.m. The least you could do is believe me when I tell you I have everything. Again.”
    Walker scrubbed a hand over his freshly shaven face. “Damn it. I’m sorry. It’s like I can’t keep anything in my head.”
    “Name the Bill of Rights,” Roman suggested. The finger gesture he got in return pretty much told him what Walker thought of that idea, but it did give him an opportunity to poke his friend a bit more. “You were able to name them, along with all the other amendments in the sixth grade. If you’ve forgotten that, Sloan McKinley has really gotten you good.”
    “Legs like that’ll do it every time,” Mick added as he raised his beer.
    “Yeah, but the brains, the smile and the open welcome for everyone she meets were the clincher.” A funny, lopsided grin spread across Walker’s face. “And she wants to marry me.”
    “There’s no accounting for taste,” Roman offered as he took a seat, careful to select just the right one.
    “Isn’t that the truth.” Mick nodded.
    Walker glanced up at that, the dreamy haze evaporating from his gaze. “You’ve got room to talk. Grier let you put a ring on her finger.”
    “And I count myself the luckiest of men,” Mick intoned, his voice solemn. “I count myself even luckier that she wants a wedding that’s small and intimate, with a minimum of fuss.”
    “Which is an improvement over her wanting you to drag her to Vegas,” Roman couldn’t resist adding. “I still don’t understand why you turned her down.”
    “I’m a romantic fellow, and Elvis officiating just didn’t fit the bill for what I have in mind.”
    Roman shook his head, a subtle sense of bemusement humming in his veins. He was happy for his friends’ leap into the married phases of their lives, but couldn’t quite understand when things had gone so sideways.
    They were the eternal bachelors.
    And now he was the only one left.
    “What time is it?” Walker’s voice pulled him from the maudlin thoughts that had dogged him with uncomfortable regularity these last six months.
    Roman stuck out his arm in an exaggerated gesture and dragged up his tuxedo sleeve to look at his wrist. “He’s improved, Mick. It’s been six minutes since the last time he asked.”
    A good-natured round of “You’re an asshole” later—a standard response the trio had practiced since middle school—ended with the three of them sitting in quiet solidarity.
    Walker broke the silence first. “You and Avery were awfully distant last night.”
    Roman chose his words with care, but couldn’t stop the slight edge of resentment that coated them. “I barely saw her. She was so busy flitting around the room talking about Ireland.”
    “Don’t tell me you’ve got sour grapes about the Irish, Boy-o.” Mick affected the lilting notes of his heritage in his tone. “Our fine lass was simply regaling our townsfolk with tales of the Emerald Isle.”
    “It’s more the Irish asshole who can’t seem to leave her alone.”
    The words were out before he could stop them, and as Roman took a reflective drag on his beer, he had to admit he didn’t want to.
    “So that’s what has you so torqued up.” Walker took the seat next to Roman, who stood to pace. It was bad enough he’d already let the cat out of the bag about Avery; he’d be damned if he’d share every fucking thing going on in his life right now.
    “He lives in Ireland. What the hell is he getting her hopes up for?”
    Mick’s words stopped him midpace. “So that’s why you’re pissed? You’re afraid she’ll get hurt?”
    “Damn straight. The man lives like