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

to his place and allow him to manipulate me anyway he wished.
    “I don’t remember being asked.” I lift one shoulder up, trying to flirt as best I can. Walking steady to the doors, Zach grips my upper arm and swings me around.
    His hands grab my arms to stop me from circling and I inch back due to his close proximity from the sudden movement. I sway into his arms catching a scent of peppermint that I desperately need to taste. “Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up outside the hotel at six.” Then he swings me to face forward again and links those long fingers in mine, warming me instantly.
    “Maybe we should see how coffee goes,” I say, wishing I’d double-lock my mouth shut because I’m pretty sure after coffee I’ll only be yearning for more.
    “I’m fairly certain I’ll be fighting the urge to drive you back to my place after this, I can’t imagine what shape I’ll be in by tomorrow,” he divulges, staring down at me. Those blue eyes so mesmerizing, I don’t want to tear away.
    “Excuse me,’’ I vaguely hear in front of me, and a dimple begins to crease in Zach’s perfect cheeks while his lips turn up.
    He places his other hand on my shoulder and steps us away from the door. “Sorry, Mrs. Carrington,” he says, never wavering his focus on me.
    Now the woman’s voice is behind me. “That’s quite all right, Zach, I see you’re occupied.” She giggles quietly, jolting me from the trance of Zach Greer.
    Zach chuckles when he notices my eyes pop open. “Shall we?” he asks, holding the door open for me.
    Cinnamon and coffee are the first things that float below my nostrils, as though there’s a scented candle by the door. Checking to make sure there isn’t, my mouth salivates with the thoughts of a large coffee with a chunk of cinnamon cake from the glass case crumbing in my mouth with every bite. The only image better would be Zach feeding it to me, naked in bed after he pleasured me into oblivion. Crap, there goes my mind again. What is this man doing to me?
    “Yes, two please. Thanks, Molly.” Zach’s voice suddenly brings me down to reality that there’s still clothing separating us. Blinking my eyes, they find a sweet, middle-aged woman, a little round in the belly, with a brown, bob hair style and wearing a frilly apron. An exact resemblance of the sign posted out front.
    I lead the way, following Molly who tells customers she’ll be right back or gives a quick hello. The patrons, happy to see her. Some touching her arms and others saying how they missed her. How nice it must be to be liked and cared for by so many people. I could come around to this small town love. She places two small menus on the table of a booth in the back corner. “This should do for you both,” she comments and then focuses her sights on me. “I’m Molly, are you new in town?” she asks, and I smile before answering.
    “Hi, I’m Marisa and I’m just visiting for a work retreat,” I inform her, and her lips fall before she recovers and then eyes Zach, whose dimples never falter. I wonder if I could pry some information about Zach out of Molly. She looks like a woman that would be willing to gossip with me.
    “Well, at least you have a good tour guide.” She smiles softly to Zach and he mimics her expression.
    “Thank you, Molly,” Zach says and she pats his hand before scrambling to another table, chatting them up.
    “She seems very nice,” I comment, picking up the menu and looking over what they offer. Since it’s between lunch and dinner, she has a variety of sandwiches and homemade potato chips. Everything sounds delicious.
    “She is. It’s her family’s bakery. They’ve been here from the start of King’s Gate, but every generation that takes it over changes the name and logo to fit their style. It first started as just coffee and donuts. Molly brought in more coffee variety and sandwiches. Her grandma had expanded to more coffee cakes and danishes. The list goes on and on; it’s pretty