Northern Encounter

“Anytime. All the time,” he said. She and Bull had always maintained separate residences. It just seemed to work better that way even though she knew he wished they shared the same roof all the time. He’d asked her to marry him more times than she could shake a stick at.

Bull was a good man. Even though she’d fallen for him hard the first time she’d met him, she’d spent the next several years waiting to discover that beneath it all, he was a jerk, that ultimately he’d let her down. Twenty-five years later, she’d finally accepted he wouldn’t let her down. Far from being a jerk, he’d proved himself a man of integrity. When Bull gave his word on something, you could count on it. In Bull’s book, a man was only as good as his word.

“Y’all might as well head on over to Gus’s and grab some dinner while I wait on these fools to show up,” Merrilee said. As much as anything, she needed some time alone. “No need in everyone being hungry.”

“I’ll bring you a plate over,” Bull said. “You hungry for anything in particular?”

“Whatever today’s special is will be fine.” She actually had no appetite but that would simply have Bull scrutinizing her more closely since she hardly ever missed a meal.

“I’ll be back in a few.”

Clint, Tessa, Dalton and Bull used the pass-thru door, giving her a few minutes alone.

Merrilee gnawed at the inside of her cheek. Sometimes when the truth went untold, the longer it lay there the deeper it became buried.

But now the skeletons in Merrilee’s closet were beginning to rattle and she didn’t like it a bit. Not even a little.

Tessa looked around her, drawn in by all of the noise, scents and general good fun. They’d walked through the adjoining doors between the airfield and the eatery and Tessa instantly loved it. She was totally digging the old-fashioned bar, complete with brass footstand, lined with an assortment of customers, most of them rugged and a bit rough around the edges. Booths and tables fought for floor space with pool tables, a small stage and a dart board. It was somewhere between a throw-down bar and an upscale diner which meant it defied definition. That made her like it all the more. Uniqueness drew her like nothing else did.

Dean Martin crooned over a speaker system and the smells coming from the kitchen were heavenly.

Tessa was terrible at guessing ages, but a woman who appeared to be in her mid to late-twenties approached, a welcoming smile on her face. With her dark hair accented by one bold streak of white in front, she wasn’t so much pretty as she was striking. She extended a hand, “Hi. Welcome, I’m Gus.”

Tessa took the woman’s hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Tessa Bellingham.” Gus had a nice, firm handshake. “It smells great in here.” Tessa smiled. “I’m suddenly very aware that lunch was a long time ago.” As if to lend credence to her words, her stomach issued a loud growl.

Everyone laughed and Gus said, “So it seems. We’ll fix you right up. With the storm coming in we’re pretty crowded tonight. Do you mind sharing a table? Skye and Nelson have a big table over near the pool tables.”

Skye was the name of Dalton Saunders’s fiancée. Tessa would like to meet her. “Table sharing is fine with me. The more the merrier.”

Bull spoke up. “Gus, how about you put together two plates of today’s special for me and Merrilee. She’s waiting on some idiot to fly in before this storm really hits. I’ll keep her company while she’s manning the airstrip.”

“Give us a second and we can pull that together for you,” Gus said. She turned back to the rest of them. “I’ll send Teddy over to take your orders.”

Gus bustled off in the direction of the open kitchen that overlooked the bar area and dining room. Dalton led the way through the dining room tables, with Clint bringing up the rear. Oddly enough, Tessa was infinitely more aware of Clint behind her than all of the other people in the room. It was as if she was tuned into his energy.

They reached the table and Dalton kissed a pretty woman—his fiancée, Tessa guessed—with pale freckled skin, brilliant blue eyes and striking curly red hair. Skye Shanahan and Dalton Saunders made a cute couple.

The man sitting at the table with Skye had long, black hair pulled into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, and his high cheekbones and skin tone indicated he was a native. Skye introduced him to Tessa as Nelson Sisnuket, Clint’s cousin and Skye’s assistant. Both Skye and Nelson made Tessa feel welcome and comfortable.

Skye smiled at Tessa across the table. “Unless you have issues with meat or wild game, you really should try the moose ragout. It’s great.”

Tessa nodded. “The moose ragout it is, then. When I’m someplace new, I like to try the local dishes.”

Nelson laughed. “That’s about as local as you can get. And the moose is fresh.” He shot Skye a teasing look. “It was just delivered yesterday.”

A flush of red crawled up Skye’s neck and face. Dalton chuckled. Clint offered a slow smile that sent a shiver down her spine.

“The moose came from a fellow who trespassed on Dalton’s property,” Nelson said, “and worse, he tried to poach Skye, as well. He offered the moose as restitution and Dalton had him send it to Gus.”

Dalton grinned and shrugged. “Hey, we eat here often enough. I don’t cook, and well, let’s just say we’re better off with Gus cooking the moose than Skye.”

“Watch it, buddy,” Skye said with a laugh.

“So, he was going to give you a moose?” Tessa was still stuck on that bit.

Skye rolled her eyes. “I thought it was really weird at first too. Frighteningly, you soon get used to the way things are done in Good Riddance. The town has a way of winding its way into your heart.”

“I thought it was me,” Dalton said. “Now you’re telling me it’s really just the town you came back for.”

The teasing interplay between the couple was fun and stirred a longing inside Tessa. It made her all the more conscious of Clint, who was sitting to her right.

Nelson shook his head in Tessa’s direction. “Good Riddance can have that effect on some people. Gus came four years ago and never did go back to New York.”

“Gus is the best thing that ever happened to Good Riddance,” Dalton said.

“You are so sleeping on the couch tonight,” Skye said.

“Sorry, honey, it’s my stomach talking instead of my heart.”

Tessa laughed aloud and Dalton shot her a grin. “Just wait. You are in for a treat.”

Skye nodded. “Gus trained in Paris.”

“Wow. And she wound up here?”

“I told you,” Nelson said, “Good Riddance has that effect on people.”

“And sometimes the infatuation with wilderness living wears off after a while. Not everyone who decides to move here winds up staying,” Clint said. His tone was neutral but there was something about him, the way he held his body, that made her think there was some personal story behind his words.

“No doubt about it, Good Riddance can be an acquired taste,” Dalton said.

It was early on but so far Tessa liked what she’d seen of Good Riddance. Clint’s arm brushed against hers and an awareness quivered through her. There were some things in Good Riddance she liked more than others, and unfortunately for her peace of mind, the man sitting next to her was at the top of that list.

SWEET JESUS, HAVE MERCY! Merrilee eyed the man in front of her with a mixture of loathing and contempt. It had been twenty-five years since she’d seen him and it still wasn’t long enough. Of course, she’d pretty much counted on never seeing his sorry ass again and this was still too soon. However, it appeared to be Theodore Jackson Weatherspoon, better known as Tad, standing in the airstrip office.

At least she was fairly certain it was Tad … or maybe just some very bad approximation thereof. The overhead light glinted off his poorly placed hair plugs, and he’d dyed the whole mess some funky orangish-yellow color she supposed was meant to be a shade of blonde. And that was all set off by his spray-on tan. And while Tad had favored button-down Ralph Lauren paired with khakis, this fool was wearing a graphic T-shirt that had obviously come from one of those mall stores which catered to teens and twenty-somethings. And what was he thinking wearing jeans that hung low on his hips? Better yet, what was he thinking with the twenty-something with the collagen lips and silicon boobs hanging on his arm?

“Wassup, Merrilee?”

“Tad?” She nearly pinched herself to verify this wasn’t some crazy nightmare, although she’d blessedly not dreamed of Tad in all the time since she’d left him.

He grinned like the total jackass he was. “Not bad for a fifty-one-year-old, huh?”

“Except you’re not fifty-one, ace. You’re sixty-three.”

The blonde next to Tad pursed her lips in equal parts of displeasure and surprise. “Sixty-three, Daddy?”

“Merrilee’s confused, baby doll.” Tad patted Ba by Doll’s hand then turned to Merrilee with what she supposed was intended to be a charming boyish smile. “You never were very good at math, were you, Merry?”