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

cool actually how the generations don’t get pigeon-holed into a specific company type.” I love the way he knows so much about a town he’s only lived in for five years, but I can’t help but notice that with that last sentence his voice changed octaves. I wonder what Zach Greer is hiding behind that gorgeous face and casual attitude?
    “That really is. I can’t imagine growing up in such a small city, knowing everyone.” I place my menu down, deciding on coffee.
    “Yeah, probably your worst nightmare.” He places his own menu on the table and for the first time his eyes don’t meet mine when he says it, instead they focus outside the window.
    “Not at all. I kinda like it,” I say and he turns his attention back to me, dimples deepening with another amazing smile. Earning those is worth sticking around, that’s for sure.
    “Really? Usually you big city girls wouldn’t be able to stand it up here where you know everyone and everyone knows your business.” He assumes he can classify me into a category, or he’s testing the waters to see if he’s wasting his time with me, which I would love to jump in his lap and assure him, if he’s part of the package, I’m all in.
    “I moved to Anchorage,” I tease and he chuckles.
    “In comparison to King’s Gate, that’s big city, but I really meant coming from Chicago.” Another waitress walks over, interrupting the conversation and fills our coffee mugs. She’s probably early twenties, long dark hair, but the same button nose as Molly.
    “Hi, Zach,” she greets him.
    “Hi, Riley. This is Marisa.” He introduces me to the cute little waitress while she eyes him before tossing me a courtesy glance. Then right back to him.
    “What can I get you two?” she asks, never really pointing the question in my direction.
    “I’m fine with coffee, thanks,” I answer, wrapping my hands around the mug to feel the warmth and bringing it up to my lips.
    “We’re going to split a cocoa coffee cake,” Zach says, and Riley stops writing at the word share .
    “Share?” she questions.
    “Yeah, share. Thanks.” Zach quickly ends the back and forth, making my mind swim with images of them together. Has he … does she … questions float around in my overused head.
    “As in two forks?” Riley continues, and I bite my lip to keep the laughter in at her obvious jealousy.
    “Yes, Riley. Thank you,” Zach exasperatedly replies. Riley huffs like a toddler as though she was told no in the middle of a toy aisle and stalks away from the table.
    I wait a few minutes to see if Zach might add something to clue me into their relationship, but he doesn’t. Instead, his eyes study me with that damn smirk. “What’s going on with you two?” I ask, unable to let it sweep under the rug.
    “Nothing.” His face completely stone.
    “Ever?” I tilt my head, double-checking.
    “Never.” He shakes his head, smiling.
    “It seems like maybe she—” I foolishly continue.
    “Marisa.” I love the way the s in my name rolls from his tongue. He reaches over and laces his fingers in mine across the table. I’ve never been a huge fan of holding hands over the table, always cringed witnessing people doing the cheesy behavior, but in this moment, when the butterflies are at capacity in my stomach, I only wish he could hold more than my hand. “There’s no woman in this town that I’ve been with.”
    “I didn’t ask.”
    “I just want to clarify. So when we walk around or go to dinner, you never have to worry.”
    “So, you just go after the out-of-towners? Less of a hassle in the whole commitment thing?” I seam my lips together, but unable to keep the upturn slightly at the corners. Don’t want him realizing the jealous thoughts of the women before me that ring in my head.
    “You’re the first.” He shrugs his shoulder while blowing on the cup of coffee, his eyes holding steady on mine, waiting for a reaction from me.
    “I doubt it.”
    “I don’t lie. You are. I’m