Lois Richer - North Country Mom

“No.” Her cheeks darkened. “This is embarrassing. You see, I have really bad eyesight and my glasses are in the bag you put up top. Would you mind copying it out for me?”

“I can get the bag,” he offered, shifting to rise.

“No, no. Don’t stir yourself.” She laid her hand on his arm. “You’ll wake up someone.” She jerked her hand away. “If you could write it down for me, I’d be grateful.”

“Sure. Okay.” He scribbled down the web address, tore out the sheet and handed it to her.

“Thank you.” Alicia studied it for a moment then folded it and tucked it into her jeans pocket. “I’ll take a look when I get home.”

“I hope it helps.”

When Alicia merely smiled at him before turning her face to the window, Jack understood that was all the conversation she wanted for now. Suited him. He didn’t want her to think he was trying to get too friendly. He checked on Giselle then pulled his e-reader from the seat pocket in front and flicked it on.

But the novel couldn’t hold Jack’s interest. Instead he got hung up thinking about the woman next to him. There was something about Alicia Featherstone that intrigued him and it wasn’t only her quick rush to defend God.

Though she’d been friendly enough, she had a quality about her that said no trespassing. She seemed to not need anyone else. Self-contained, that was it.

Jack couldn’t help wondering why. Alicia was lovely to look at, had a nice figure and ran her own independent business. She appeared to have her life together. And yet when she’d crashed into him earlier, she’d jerked back, ready to protect herself. He remembered how she’d ordered him to let go of her arm. She’d tensed—an automatic response to a perceived threat.

Because she’d had to defend herself before?

As he’d told Laurel, Jack wasn’t interested in a romantic relationship with anyone. But his detective background made Alicia’s almost bristling reaction interesting, as had her response when he’d asked if she had kids. Suddenly Jack could think of a hundred questions to ask the lovely Indian woman.

She’s nothing to do with you. You and Giselle are on your own. Even if you could forget what you and Simone shared, are you really willing to risk loving again and losing again?

No.

In a rush, the lost, empty feeling he’d battled for two long years returned. He’d barely survived the pain of Simone’s death and that was only because of Giselle, because he was determined not to lose her, too.

Alicia Featherstone might become his coworker on the kids’ project, but that’s all she could ever be. He would not contemplate loving and losing again.

Jack twisted in his seat so his back was to Alicia. He forced himself to read the words on his screen. But despite his best intentions, every so often his glance slipped to the silent woman in the seat next to his.

Though he was tired, sleep evaded him.

Given his curiosity about Alicia Featherstone, he should probably refuse to work with her. But he wasn’t going to. He had too many questions that demanded answers.

Chapter Three

Alicia awoke feeling watched.

Sure enough, when she peeked through her lashes she found a dark brown gaze fixed on her. Self-conscious and disheveled, she swallowed and tried to think of what to say to Jack’s daughter.

“You snore.” Giselle flopped into the seat her father had obviously vacated while Alicia was asleep. “Delicately, but still. It’s snoring.”

“Good morning.” Alicia gave her a pointed look. “My name is Alicia Featherstone. And you’re Giselle, I understand. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah.” The girl flicked her long hair over one shoulder. “I guess that was rude.”

Ignoring her unrepentant stare, Alicia said nothing. She pulled a brush from her purse, undid her braids and combed out her hair before swirling it into a topknot on her head.

“Sorry.” Giselle didn’t sound the least bit sorry.

“I hear you’re moving to Churchill,” Alicia said, cutting her some slack.

“So Jack says.” The chip on Giselle’s shoulder was huge.

“Jack?” Alicia tamped down her irritation at this cheeky child.

“Well, I can’t really call him Dad, now can I?” Giselle snapped in a sour tone.

“Why not?” Spoiled, Alicia thought to herself.

Yet her heart ached for the confused girl. Giselle’s world had been rocked, first by her mom’s death and then by learning nothing she’d believed about her family was true. Moving away from all that was familiar couldn’t be easy, either.

“Jack hasn’t been your dad for all these years?” she asked gently.

“Yes.” Giselle whooshed out a breath that blew her bangs all over. “He has. He’s been a really good father and I love him a lot. That’s why this is so hard. He lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie, Giselle.” Jack stood in the aisle. His face conveyed his hurt.

“Lied by omission then.” She jumped up and held out a hand. “Can I have some money to buy breakfast?”

“I guess I’m your father enough for that, huh?” Jack muttered with a sideways glance at his daughter. She simply shrugged. He transferred the two cups he carried into one hand then fished several bills out of his shirt pocket and handed them over. Giselle flounced away. “Nothing for me, thanks,” he muttered, staring longingly at her departing figure.

“Preteen. It’s a horrible age,” Alicia consoled. “She’ll get over it.”

“Soon, I hope.” He held out a lidded cup. “Coffee. I figured you could use some. You look great, but it wasn’t the most restful night I’ve ever had.”

“Thank you.” She accepted the cup, freezing for a moment when his warm fingers brushed hers. “Maybe I’m used to these chairs because I’ve ridden the train so often.”

“To get your store stock?”

“Uh-huh. The sleeper cars are always booked far in advance. Since I’m never sure when I’ll be on the train, I always sleep in the chairs,” she explained. “I don’t mind traveling at this time of year. The landscape is amazing. Seeing spring arrive from the train is far more interesting than watching snow drift in winter.” She sipped her coffee, enjoying the rich dark flavor. “Thank you for this.”

“Sure. My sister told me about a project you’re planning for her Lives boys. That’s what locals call her rehabilitation center, right?”

“Yes.” Alicia nodded. “It’s a shortened version of Lives Under Construction, which we use to refer to the army barracks she’s renovated, the outbuildings and all the land around.”

“I thought so.” Jack sat down, stretching his legs in front. “So—a sod house, right? Laurel asked me to help.”

“She did?” Alicia stared at him. “I didn’t know that.” She shook her head, uneasy at the prospect of having Jack nearby, watching her. “You don’t have to bother. We’ll manage. The boys are very responsible.”

“I’m sure they are. But I promised and I don’t break my promises to Laurel, ever. She’s the older sister and she makes me pay,” he teased. Then a frown flickered across his face. “It sounds like you don’t want my help.”

“It’s not that.” She bit her bottom lip, struggling to rephrase the truth.

“Don’t worry, Alicia. I know how to take directions.” He chuckled when she couldn’t mask her dubious expression. “I’ll help, but the hotel will have to come first.” He tipped his head to one side, studying her. “How did you come up with the sod house idea anyway?”

“From a display I saw.” She leaned her back against the window to put as much distance between them as possible. She would have moved across the aisle if Giselle hadn’t left her things scattered over both seats.