“That’s good to know,” he said, relief moving through him. Then, realizing what he’d said, quickly added, “Not that they have hearing issues. I would never think of that as being a good thing.”
She laughed softly. “I knew what you meant.” Glady walked over to return the coffeepot to its warmer plate. “Not that my opinion matters, but I’m glad you’re not selling out. Too much commercialization in these parts would take away the true charm of Juneau and its surrounding islands.”
Before Gage could respond, the door to the diner whipped open, sending the damp chill of the rainy afternoon whirling into the cozy eating area. A misshapen figure draped in a bright yellow, rain-drenched poncho came sloshing in, stopping just far enough inside to close the door behind them. The drooping hood, which resembled a duck’s head, effectively covered the newly arrived restaurant patron’s face. One thing he did know was that whoever they were, they had clearly been out with one of Juneau’s local tour guides. That poncho was a dead giveaway. Whoever it was under the oversized poncho couldn’t be more than an inch or two over five feet.
Gage was just about to turn away when a slender, very feminine hand shoved free of the winged sleeves and reached up to push back the wet, duck-beaked hood. Tendrils of damp brown hair were plastered to her cherry-stained cheeks, while determined raindrops clung to the woman’s long lashes.
She glanced down, and then, with a gasp and a fretful scan of the room, took a step back to where the oversized, all-weather THANK YOU FOR COMING mat lay just inside the doorway.
Glady, obviously seeing the woman’s troubled expression, hurried over to her. “Honey, is everything alright?”
The woman, who looked to be somewhere in her late twenties, nodded in response, sending a spray of raindrops downward. She looked at the wet floor with a grimace. “I’m so sorry about the mess I’m making. I was in such a hurry to get in out of the rain that I didn’t even stop to think about bringing it in with me.”
“This is Juneau,” Glady said, not the least bit concerned. “September tends to be a rainy season. I promise you’re not the first to trudge in from foul weather, and you won’t be the last.”
“If you’ll give me a mop, I’ll clean it up,” the woman offered, fretting her lower lip.
Glady waved the suggestion away. “Now push your suitcase up against the wall and then peel yourself out of that poncho. You can hang it on one of those wooden pegs by the door. When you’re done, have a seat at a table close to the fireplace so you can dry off. In the meantime, I’ll go get some hot tea to warm you up.” She hesitated. “That is, unless you’d prefer coffee.”
“Tea would be wonderful,” the woman answered. “Thank you.”
“Get yourself settled in. I’ll be back in a few,” Glady told her before scurrying back to the kitchen.
Gage watched as the woman peeled the oversized rain poncho off, surprised to see a camera bag resting against the side of the insulated parka she wore, its black nylon strap draped over her shoulder and across the coat. What looked to be a very full backpack was strapped securely to her back. That explained the Hunchback of Notre Dame appearance she’d first had when she’d come into the diner.
So, he concluded, definitely a tourist. One who clearly enjoys taking a lot of pictures. She was pretty, her petite form practically swallowed up by the coat and camera bag that weighed her down. She glanced his way and offered up a halfhearted smile.Halfhearted or not, her smile packed quite a punch. Gage felt as though he’d just been trampled by a herd of moose.
CHAPTER TWO
“Wet one out there,” Gage said as if the rain-drenched woman wasn’t already fully aware of that. Giving himself a mental head slap, he added, “Can I lend you a hand with your bags so you can take off your jacket too?”
The woman looked down as if she’d forgotten they were there and then back up at him. “That’s nice of you to offer, but there’s no need. I’m used to hauling my bags and carry-on around with me when I travel.”
Definitely a serious picture-taker.
“Can I at least help you with your coat?”
She eased her travel-battered carry-on up against the wall where it would be out of the way. “I’m too chilled to take my jacket off right now, but I will need to remove my backpack before sitting down,” she said as she struggled to work the straps down over her shoulders while balancing the camera bag dangling at her side.
Gage shot up from his seat and hurried over to where she still stood by the door. “Here, let me help you with that,” he said as she pulled her arm free of the first strap. Lifting the pack off her back, he waited as she twisted slightly, moved the camerabag out of the way, and then slipped her other arm free of the remaining strap as he held it.
“There you go,” he said.
Turning to face him, she reached for her bag. Then, looking up at him with a grateful smile, she said, “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” he replied, his gaze drawn to those perfectly aligned pearly whites and the naturally full, pink lips that framed them.
“Umm ... my bag,” the woman prompted.
Gage blinked, and then forced his gaze away from her mouth only to have it detour to her thickly lashed, chocolate-brown eyes. Giving himself a mental kick in the backside, he looked down at the strap still held firmly in his grasp at his side. Inches above which, her much smaller hand awaited the bag’s release.
“Sorry, I was ... uh, just making sure you had a good grip on it before I let go. The bag’s pretty heavy.”
“I’ve got it,” she assured him with a grin.
Releasing his hold on the bag, Gage offered up a quick smile. “All yours.” Then he turned and made his way back to his table, trying to gather his scattered thoughts. He wasn’t even sure what had caused them to be that way. Maybe he’d better refrain from drinking any more coffee, even if that meant wasting the cup Glady had just poured for him.
Attempting to block out all thoughts of the woman standing across the room hanging up her poncho, Gage forced himself to redirect his focus to his own issues. Mainly, keeping his family’s fishing retreat from going belly-up in these ever-changing times.
