crowd hadn’t started to arrive.
Ben offered Christian a friendly smile. “What can I do for you this fine day?” he asked.
“How about coffee and a doughnut?” Christian pulled out a stool. He made sure that when he sat down this time he didn’t slide off. He looked around, wondering where Mariah was, but he didn’t want to be so obvious as to ask.
“In the kitchen. Baking another pie,” Ben supplied, knowing all too well the purpose of Christian’s visit.
Christian pretended not to understand what Ben was talking about.
“You want me to call her out here?” Ben asked.
“No,” Christian answered automatically, then regretted it.
“She’s causing quite a stir, you know,” Ben said conversationally as he filled Christian’s mug. He piled a couple of sugar-coated doughnuts onto a plate and set it in front of him.
“You mean her apple pie?”
“Not her pies, although her recipe is excellent.” He raised his fingertips to his mouth and loudly kissed them. “I mean Mariah herself. Business has really picked up since she came to work for me. Those fellows are interested in more than my moose pot roast with cranberry sauce.”
This was something Christian hadn’t considered. Mariah had been living in Hard Luck for the better part of a year and had caused barely any reaction among the men in town. He’d never understood it. Many a time he would’ve given his eyeteeth for one of his pilots to sweep her off her feet—and out from under his. It hadn’t happened. Nor did he understand what was so different now.
“Who?” he demanded. He wasn’t about to let a bunch of lovesick pilots pester her! Christian didn’t linger on the contradictions between his attitude today and that of two months ago. If his men wanted to come in and eat at Ben’s, then fine, but anything else and they’d answer to him. After all, he’d been responsible for bringing her to Alaska; he was responsible for ensuring her safety and well-being while she was here. Which was why he had to protect her from the pilots. He didn’t feel completely convinced that there wasn’t anything going on between her and Duke, either. She claimed there wasn’t, but judging by the pilot’s behavior earlier, Christian was beginning to think otherwise. Duke might well be attracted to her. Mariah needed the gentle guidance of an older brother, a good friend. Someone like himself.
“Bill Landgrin for one,” Ben answered.
The name caught Christian’s attention right away. The pipeline worker was a known troublemaker. Generally Christian was able to get along with just about everyone, but Bill rubbed him the wrong way. He frowned, disliking the thought of Mariah having anything to do with the likes of Bill.
“Who else?”
“Ralph asked her out,” Ben murmured, dropping his voice. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Mariah wasn’t listening in on their conversation.
“Ralph Ferris?” One of Christian’s own pilots. He felt not only betrayed but puzzled. Ralph had seen Mariah on a daily basis for a whole year. If he’d been interested, he could’ve asked her out before this. Why he’d pursue her now didn’t make sense, especially if Duke had set his sights on her. None of this made sense.
“You don’t look pleased.”
“I’m not,” Christian admitted. Unfortunately he wasn’t in a position to do anything about it.
“Not that you have a say in the matter.” Ben echoed his own thoughts, again keeping his voice low.
Christian met Ben’s gaze evenly. They’d been friends for a lot of years. Frankly Christian didn’t like the idea of a woman standing between them, and he stated his feelings.
“I want her back,” he said.
Ben laughed.
It wasn’t the reaction Christian had expected, to say the least.
Still grinning, Ben said, “I knew that the minute you walked in here. It might come as a surprise, old friend, but I haven’t got her tied to the stove back there. Mariah’s free to leave or stay, whichever she decides.”
“Fine, just as long as you know where I—where we stand,” he amended, including Sawyer and Charles in the equation.
“To my way of thinking, you shouldn’t have let her go in the first place,” Ben said. He frowned, giving the impression that he didn’t understand why the O’Hallorans had been so foolish.
Christian didn’t have an answer.
* * *
Mariah was elbow-deep in flour as she strained to hear the conversation between Christian and Ben. She didn’t mean to snoop—well, to be honest, she did. She wanted to hear what Christian was saying and strained to make out every word. She couldn’t help wanting to know if he missed her, or if he’d given her absence so much as a passing thought.
Ben’s voice drifted into the kitchen far more clearly than Christian’s. She heard him tell Christian about Bill Landgrin’s interest in her and smiled to herself. Not that she’d ever consider dating Bill. That would be asking for trouble. Word had got around fast about Bill and his roving hands. Besides, there was only one man who interested Mariah, and he was sitting in this very café, whispering about her.
The phone rang, and she heard Ben amble over to the counter to answer it. A moment later, the cook shouted, “Mariah, it’s long distance for you.”
Mariah quickly dusted the flour from her hands and reached for the extension on the kitchen wall. “This is Mariah,” she said into the mouthpiece.
Once he was sure she’d picked up the phone, Ben hung up.
“Mariah, it’s Tracy. What happened?”
“Happened?” Her friend sounded upset.
“I called Midnight Sons, and Sawyer said you no longer worked there and said I should contact you at the Hard Luck Café.”
“I quit,” Mariah explained simply.
Tracy exhaled a sharp breath. “What did Christian do this time?”
Mariah loved the way her friend immediately assumed Christian was to blame. This was one of Tracy’s most endearing traits—she was loyal to a fault.
“What makes you think Christian did anything?”
“I know the man. He’s done everything in his power to make your life miserable.”
“That’s not true.” Mariah found herself wanting to defend Christian. “I’d been with Midnight Sons for a year, and it seemed time to move on, that’s all.”
“You didn’t mention it while we were in Anchorage.”
“I—I didn’t decide until after I returned.”
Tracy wasn’t about to accept such a weak explanation. “You didn’t come up with this idea on the spur of the moment. I know you far too well to believe that. Christian O’Halloran drove you to it.”
“No one drove me to anything,” Mariah insisted. “I work with Ben now.” She didn’t say that she wasn’t sure Ben could afford to keep her much longer. Her pies were selling as fast as she could bake them, but her waitressing skills left a lot to be desired.
Thus far, Ben had been exceedingly patient with her, but she’d already broken two coffeepots. She’d offered to have him deduct the cost from her paycheck, but he’d refused.
To Mariah’s own disappointment, she had to acknowledge that she lacked the skills to be a waitress. She confused orders and had a tendency not to look where she was going. Only this morning, she’d dumped a plate of poached eggs on Keith Campbell’s lap. It hadn’t been intentional of course, but Keith had been annoyed, to put it mildly.
Mariah had tried to apologize,