Love Grows in Alaska (The Washington Triplets) by Michelle Lynn

I begin walking toward him, he holds his hand out again and I take it. He links our fingers together, kindling the butterflies to start fluttering.
    Leading me away from the hotel, I wonder if I should message Libby just to let her know, in case Mr. Gorgeous is some axe murder. Before I can grab my phone, he opens the door to a huge pick-up truck and I climb in. While he’s making his way around the front of the truck, I text Libby a message that I’m going for coffee with Zach Greer and I’ll check in later. My phone dings as soon as he sits down in his seat.
    Libby: So jelly…want details later.
    I shove it back in my pocket as though he wouldn’t notice, but from the small smile gracing his lips, he did. “Tell Mom I promise to have you back in one piece.” His casual and laidback persona is a nice change from Nate’s neurotic one. I mentally fight with myself not to compare the two. Nate is long gone, probably fucking up someone else’s mind already.
    Is it possible for a car to induce a feeling of safety? It has soft grey cloth seats and not a spec of dust on the dashboard. It’s a lot like my own car, minus the stockpile of ponytail holders in the cup holder. Maybe I’m not so different than Zach Greer.
    “So, Marisa, do you want chain or do you like to try out new places?” He glances my way and then back to the road.
    “New places,” I answer and his smile widens.
    “I’m glad,” he responds, “there’s the original King’s Gate coffee shop with a bakery attached just ahead. I felt bad when the chain came in and took some of their business. Most locals remain faithful to them, but King’s Gate thrives on their tourists so it’s made it hard.” I want to sigh and place my hand over my heart at the way he sounds so invested in this town and business. Instead, I nod and cross my legs.
    I watch him eye my legs and then set straight again. “Are you a local?” Doubling back to our conversation last night that he never told me anything about himself.
    He tilts his head left and right, debating his answer. “Yes and No. I moved up here about five years ago, so, I’m not sure what that makes me.”
    “I would say local. Do you ever leave King’s Gate?” I ask and then wish I could take it back because I saw him in Anchorage last week.
    He laughs, the deepest most welcoming sound I’ve heard in a long time. “Yeah, I’m not a hermit or anything.”
    “I just meant, do you spend all your time up here?” I continue to ramble and he places his hand on my leg to stop me. An electrical current shoots up my leg, right to my center from his touch. I think I felt more heat from that one touch than all the years I was with Nate. Ugh … stop comparing.
    “I know what you meant.” He chuckles. “I do spend all my time up here. Last week, I had a business meeting in Anchorage.” The humor leaves him and the cab of the truck turns awkward. Sensing I pushed further than he wanted to go, I remain quiet for the remainder of the trip.
    We pull up to the cutest bakery with a pink, green and purple sign out front reading Molly’s Coffee and Cakes. A cute image of a woman in an apron with a welcoming smile stamped right above the name. Zach parks diagonally on the street and I exit the truck before he has a chance to open my door for me, because that labels this as a date. I don’t want to be presumptuous that maybe it could be.
    “Hmm … you are really going to make me work for this.” He lightheartedly laughs, placing his hand out to me again. My nerves calm with his declaration that I could be wrong.
    “It’s not like this is a date.” Battling with myself, I allow further doubts to sink in, stupidly verbalizing them. My hand chills from the cooler Alaska weather when he takes his hand out of mine and places it over his heart as though I wounded him.
    “You break my heart, Marisa,” he feigns, the drool-worthy smile never faltering. I’m positive if he asked, I’d accept the invitation back