an image of the Trojan horse flashed across his consciousness. Tag was right—he needed to remember that she might be a pretty face, but she was still the face of Cam-Field.
“And did the doctor also say that it was your responsibility to feed me?”
“No, but you said that the food here was terrible, so I thought I would see if I could prove you wrong.”
“You already have,” she said, “and I’m afraid I didn’t thank you properly the first time.”
Bering realized then that she was shivering from the cold, and it was no wonder what with that thin piece of silk that she was trying to pass off as a robe.
“If I could come in for a minute then I’d let you take a shot at that.”
* * *
EMILY HAD BEEN AFRAID he was going to say that, and she thought it was probably a bad idea. She took a few seconds to remind herself why it was a bad idea. First of all, the man had seen her naked (mostly naked, but still...) Secondly, he was clearly a part of the unswayable opposition in this town, and to socialize would only be a waste of time, not to mention the probable cause of further conflict and embarrassment. And third, he’d seen her mostly naked.
She felt herself blushing, and for the first time since she’d arrived in this stupid town she was grateful for the cold. Why was she waffling like this? She was never indecisive. She prided herself on always knowing what to do, but ever since she’d arrived in Rankins, everything seemed to be completely out of her control—including her emotions and, apparently, her ability to think rationally.
Her current predicament illustrated this point perfectly. Reading people had always been one of her strengths. It had served her very well in her tenure with Cam-Field. But right now she had no idea what was going on with this guy. What was he doing here? Probably trying to get information out of her, she told herself.
What other possible motivation could he have for being so nice to her? It was a little above and beyond professional courtesy.... It wasn’t as if he’d somehow caused her to pass out. In fact, if he hadn’t been there, she might have ended up even worse off than she had been. And why had he stayed so long at the hospital? More things that she should probably thank him for...and a reason to invite him in—that and the heavenly odors wafting out of the bag he was holding.
But she didn’t need to invite him in to thank him, did she? No, it was definitely not a good idea to invite him in. But it would be rude to refuse breakfast, wouldn’t it? Maybe she could take the opportunity to state her case—Cam-Field’s case. She had managed to win over some pretty tough rivals in the past. Shouldn’t she at least try to sway him, too? After all, that was her job. Now, that was a reason to invite him in. She ignored the niggle in her brain that suggested she may have tried overly hard to come up with a reason at all.
“Sure,” she said, standing back from the door to allow him in. “There are a couple things I’d like to talk to you about anyway.”
* * *
EMILY USED THE LAST bite of biscuit to sop up the last bit of the creamy sausage gravy. She stared at her plate and then looked up at him. “I can’t believe I ate all that. You were right, it was absolutely delicious. I had no idea there was food like this in this town.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“How did you manage to find something without fish in it anyway?”
“You don’t like fish?”
Emily crinkled up her nose. “I don’t like seafood.”
“You don’t like any seafood?” he asked skeptically.
“No, and this town of yours seems to be unduly obsessed with the consumption of sea creatures. I actually saw something called a razor clam on the menu at one of your restaurants. Now, tell me there’s not a warning in there somewhere?”
Bering laughed and handed her another biscuit, this one slathered with thick jelly. “Here, try this.”
“Oh, I don’t know if I can eat another bite...mmm,” Emily said with a moan as she took a taste of the fluffy bit of heaven. The jelly was tart and sweet and utterly divine. “Where did this come from?”
“The Cozy Caribou,” he answered and then took a sip of his coffee. “They make all their own jam,” he added proudly. “They also make their own root beer. They serve it cold on tap. It’s pretty popular.”
“Root beer, huh?”
“Yep. You should try it.”
“I might,” she said with an agreeable nod. “This is the establishment that is using copies of Cam-Field’s community-impact reports as dartboard targets?”
“So, your memory has returned, huh?”
“Somewhat,” she said, not quite able to meet his eyes. “Look, Mr. James, I really am sorry about all of this—”
“Bering,” he said. “Please, stop calling me Mr. James.”
“Okay,” Emily conceded. “Bering,” she said. It rolled off her tongue and she decided that in spite of her initial reaction to it, she liked it. Which was completely beside the point, but she found herself asking about it just the same.
“I was named after the Bering Sea,” he explained. “My father was a crab-boat captain. My mom was pregnant with me when he drowned there in a fishing accident.”
Emily stared, trying to take in the implications of such a life-shattering event. She had to ask, “Why in the world would she name you after such a tragedy?”
“She says it was the Bering Sea that brought her and my dad together in the first place. That’s where they met, that’s where they earned a living and that’s where they fell in love. She didn’t ever want to forget that.”
“What do you mean? How did they meet there?”
“She applied to work on his boat as a deckhand, which she did for quite a while—until they got married and she got pregnant with Janie. She claims she was the best deckhand he ever had. She didn’t want her memories of the Bering Sea to be filled with only sadness because it had brought her so much joy, too.”
He smiled at that, and even though it had been long ago, Emily thought she saw sorrow there, too. She smiled warmly in return, not wanting to be the cause of dredging up painful memories.
He looked away briefly before meeting her eyes again. “My entire life I could only imagine how difficult it was for my mom because I wasn’t even born yet. But I have a much better idea now because my sister, Janie, lost her husband six months ago—and she’s pregnant. With twins—that will make four for her.”
“Oh, my...but how will she manage—”
It was as if Emily’s words flipped a switch in him—from warm and open to solemn and stony in an instant.
“The same way our mom did—with the help of her family and friends. That’s how we do things around here, Emily. We stick together in good times, we offer support in bad and we’re there for all the challenges in between.”
The
