an emergency, most folks know how to reach us after hours. Are you okay with going on the phone list?”
“Of course. Anything I can do to help.”
“Now for the all important question: when do you want to start?”
Molly swallowed. If she wanted to back out, now was the time. But Sammi was so nice, seemed eager for her to take some of the load off the other workers. And she really, really didn’t want to go back to Anchorage and face Gary day in and day out or field his constant calls. He refused to believe it was really over, even after six months. As did her mother. Was it really fair to allow them both to keep holding out hope?
No. It wasn’t. “I have to go back to Anchorage to finish packing. I could probably start in two weeks. Oh, and I’ll need to find a place to rent. Do you know of anything?”
“Let me check and give you a call in the morning. Blake says you’ll be over at the hotel? We’ll find you something. Any preferences?”
“Not really. Just a place to sleep. Nothing fancy.”
“Good, because nothing fancy is what Unalaska does best.” She squeezed Molly’s hand. “Just leave it to me. Now I’d better get you back to Blake before he has a hissy fit. See you in two weeks?”
“Definitely.”
And if Blake didn’t want to fly her back in two weeks, well, like he’d said, there were plenty of pilots where he came from.
* * *
Molly awoke to the sound of something pinging against the windowpane of her hotel room. Squinting, she tried to see the clock.
Too blurry.
Ugh, her contacts were still on the nightstand. She reached over and felt around for the glasses she’d left next to her contacts case. Slipping them on, she glanced again at the clock.
Her heart stalled in her chest.
Seven-thirty! She was supposed to be at the plane in a half hour.
Blake hadn’t asked about her breakfast plans or mentioned picking her up and taking her to the airport. In fact, by the time he’d shown her around the island and dropped her off at the hotel yesterday afternoon, he’d seemed all too anxious to be rid of her. He’d said goodbye with a wave of his hand, before getting back in his car and driving away to wherever he lived.
He’d probably been exhausted from their flight and from schlepping around with her all day. Molly loved the clinic, and Sammi had seemed especially nice, not a hint that she or anyone else viewed her as a threat.
Except maybe Blake, who’d said she needed to be strapped into her seat by eight o’clock.
Or else. Leaping out of bed, she scrambled for her clothes, thankful she’d taken a shower the previous night to banish the chill that had burrowed deep into her bones.
The pinging noise outside was still going strong, like someone throwing pebbles repeatedly against the glass. Well, she could think of at least one person she could rule out, if that was the case.
She tiptoed to the window, clothes in hand, and parted the curtains several inches. Still dark. Then she caught the glitter of stones on the sidewalk.
No, not stones. Hail. The size of gumballs.
And it wasn’t just hailing. Now that she was awake, she realized the gloom was caused by heavy gray clouds that covered the sky. The wind was also howling, kicking up leaves and sending some of the scattered ice drops skittering down the walkway. Her fingers tightened around the clothing she held. Even if she made it to the airport on time, could they take off in these conditions?
Please, no. She’d already flown through one storm. The last thing she wanted to do was make a bigger fool out of herself than she had yesterday.
With her luck, no pilot in his right mind would agree to fly with her after that.
And by the end of the day Blake had seemed so…
Impatient.
He was probably dreading the return trip as much as she was. Maybe she’d be better off not even taking the job.
Except she’d promised Sammi she would, and the hospital was counting on her to follow through. And this job was a lifeline, appearing just when she’d really needed it.
Apart from the flying, which she wondered if she could do—especially while dealing with critically ill patients—she found she liked the island and its inhabitants. She knew the biggest industry was fishing, but was surprised to learn the port itself did quite a bit of business. As they’d driven around yesterday, Blake had pointed out a huge vessel stacked high with various-colored shipping containers getting ready to dock.
She continued to stare out the window, wondering what she should do, when a dark familiar shadow stopped in front of her door. With one hand shoved deep into his pocket, Blake braced himself against the wind, preparing to knock. Just as she got ready to slam the curtains back together, their eyes met.
Argh! Too late.
She still had on the sweatpants and threadbare white tank top she’d worn to bed. And if she could see him, he could see…
His lips quirked, and a rush of heat poured into her face. She held up a finger, hoping he’d catch her meaning. Maybe she could get dressed really fast and…
Poor guy. It was freezing out there. She glanced down. It wasn’t like she was in a negligee or anything. She could at least let him into the room while she ducked into the bathroom to get dressed.
Padding over to the door, she made sure her clean clothes were draped to conceal key areas of her chest before opening it. “Come in. I’m running a little late—sorry.”
“I tried to call, but they’re having trouble with the phones evidently, because I couldn’t get through.” He glanced at her as if seeing her for the first time. “Uh, I can wait out here until you get ready.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s hailing. Besides, I’m freezing standing here.”
That worked. He slid through the opening and let her shut the door behind him.
Heading for the bathroom, she called behind her, “I’ll just be a minute.”
Once she made it safely inside, she leaned against the wall. Did she even want to look in the mirror?
She opened her eyes and peered into the reflective surface.
Glasses. Great. They weren’t even her good pair. And she’d left her contact case on the nightstand.
Leaning closer, she moaned at the sight that met her eyes. Tangled hair, sticking out every which way. Waistband of her sweatpants skewed way to one side, creating a series of unflattering wrinkles that slanted from right to left. And was that a piece of sleep?
Yep. Right in the corner of her eye.
She dropped her head in her hands and moaned. Maybe if she stayed in the bathroom long enough, he’d go away and let her die in peace. He looked clean, rested and, most of all, well groomed.
He smelled good, too, like he’d just hopped out of the shower.
Well, all she could do was work with what she had. He’d just seen her at her worst, so even dragging her fingers through her hair would be an improvement.
She worked as fast as she could, dressing in jeans and a heavy turtleneck, scrubbing her teeth and face then sweeping a coat of clear gloss over her lips. Once she’d finished, there was a moment or two when she entertained the thought of hiding out for a while, before deciding to be a big girl and face him. One deep breath later, she’d opened the door.
Camped out in a chair, Blake sat next to the bed, which was a wreck from all the tossing and turning she’d done during the night. His elbows were propped on his knees as he stared at the images flickering across the weather channel. He glanced up, his eyes