“How would you even do that?” Marnie wished she could erase bad memories. If she could, her family’s criminal trial would be a blank slate. She’d like that.
“She makes the world work the way she wants it to work.” Cobra stood from the chair then and went back to the bathroom, returning with his shaving kit to drop it into the duffel bag.
He pulled on a pair of socks, shrugged a blue flannel button-front shirt over his T-shirt, and stepped into his scuffed leather boots, obviously preparing to leave.
Marnie wished he’d stick around a little longer. He was unexpectedly entertaining. But she knew he still had work to do tonight.
Watching him, she couldn’t help speculating about his kiss. How had it felt to be Josephine, to have Cobra’s strong arms wrapped around you, the woodsy scent of his skin, the taste of his full lips? A ripple of desire coursed through her, imagining the thrill.
She wondered if Cobra regretted kissing Josephine.
He lifted the duffel bag and took a final glance around the room. “Well, this has been . . . interesting.”
“Was it at least a good kiss?” She blurted the question out before she could stop herself.
His eyes crinkled with a smile. “I was barely seventeen. There were no bad kisses.”
It wasn’t exactly an answer, but she assumed that meant he’d liked it. She waited a moment, but he didn’t elaborate.
“I guess, I’ll see you . . . around town?” she asked.
“Unlikely,” he said, glancing down at his duffel bag. “I’ll be living and working at the airstrip while you’re all here.”
The answer was disappointing. She would have liked to see him again.
“Come back if you need anything else.” Her voice sounded husky, like there was an invitation embedded in there. She hadn’t meant it that way. Or maybe she had. It was hard to be sure with him standing so close.
He searched her eyes. His voice was low too. “I will.”
Something crackled between them, attraction, energy, maybe their shared secrets. Or maybe it was just that they’d each expected something different from the other.
“I’ve got some work to do,” he said, into the silence.
“Right, the brake shoes on the half-ton.”
He drew back in obvious confusion.
She thought maybe she’d remembered wrong. “Isn’t that what Tobias said?”
“It is,” Cobra answered, but he still looked at her like she’d said something outlandish.
She waited, but again he didn’t elaborate.
After a minute, he drew a breath and his eyes softened to ash. “Goodnight, Marnie.”
“Night.”
He took a step back, then another, then he twisted the doorknob and was gone.
Marnie sat back down on the bed . . . his bed. She flopped backward and let her mind fully explore the possibilities of kissing Cobra.
Chapter Five
Cobra worked late on the truck brakes then crawled out of bed in the early morning and realized how poor the hangar heating system was at keeping the caretaker suite warm. It was cold enough that the window had frosted overnight. With another long day of work ahead of him, he decided to head into town for a hot breakfast at the WSA cafeteria.
By the time he got back, the sun had melted the frost, but he’d already made up his mind to light up the wood boiler stationed outside the hangar. It was a seasonal system—generating way too much heat for the summer or early fall. He usually waited until mid-October to fire it up, but wood fuel was free for the hauling, and he could open the bay door to keep things in balance. It would definitely keep him warm overnight.
He got the boiler humming, pumping heat into the hangar, then turned his attention to the beaver that was in for an oil leak. He took off the engine cowls, then headed into the parts room to find an O-ring for the tach drive.
He heard several trucks drive past the hangar and into the parking lot. It would be the pilots and possibly some of the Galina Expediting staff with delivery trucks. The frost had melted from the control surfaces, and it was time to get the planes in the air.
All summer long, orders were sorted into manifests in the Galina warehouse, then loaded on a variety of bush planes for delivery to central Alaskan mines and tourism operations, scientific and exploration camps. Now that the season was winding down, more cargo came out of operations than went in, but there was still a steady stream of flying. By late October, flying work would be down to nearly nothing.
He heard a woman’s voice outside. At first, he thought it was Hailey, WSA’s only female pilot, but the voice didn’t sound right. It wasn’t Raven. He wondered if it could be Mia here with Silas. But another woman answered, then another spoke, and another. He closed his eyes, realizing they’d brought the LA women back out to the airstrip for some unfathomable reason.
Although frustration was his first emotion, his thoughts quickly switched to Marnie, and he felt curious instead. He’d fallen asleep last night with an image of her in his mind. She’d looked enchanting curled up on his bed, a beckoning smile on her face. When he woke this morning, he still pictured her clearly.
He’d looked around for her at the WSA cafeteria this morning but quickly realized they’d give the women breakfast at the Bear and Bar. It was nicer there, proper tables and real chairs instead of picnic tables and benches, table service instead of the cafeteria lineup. The food at WSA was satisfying, but it was designed to keep hardworking men fueled up all day long, not to appeal to the palates of women who were likely used to pesto avocado camembert fusion on their sprouted wheat toast—or something like that.
On sober reflection, it was just as well she hadn’t been there. He recognized the signs, and the last thing he needed was to become infatuated with a woman who’d barely be here long enough to unpack her suitcase.
He found the O-ring and headed back into the main hangar, stopping short when he saw someone peering into the beaver bush plane’s engine. From this angle, all he saw were legs, jean-covered legs that were definitely female.
Oh, no, no, no. He picked up his pace. The last thing he needed was some curious lookie-loo injuring herself by poking around an engine. Cobra’s hangar was not part of the tour.
“Hey,” he called out as he ducked under the wing.
The bright copper hair registered as she turned to face him.
Marnie.
He stopped short, dialing back his frustration and swallowing the terse rebuke and warning on the tip of his tongue. “Be careful,” he said instead.
“Morning,” she said with a pretty smile that targeted the center of his chest. “I’ve never seen a radial engine up close.”
The statement momentarily stopped his train of thought. “Why did you call it a radial engine?”
She gestured to the cylinders, running her finger around the configuration. “Because it’s . . . radial.”
“I thought you were a lawyer.” He set the O-ring down on the top of his toolbox.
“I am a lawyer.”
“With a hobby in mechanics?” He was trying to work this out.
Last night she’d somehow known that rear brakes on the half-ton were shoes and not pads, and she was just about the last person he’d expect to have an interest in mechanics. She was adorable and delicate. He’d be willing to bet her small, soft hands had never once touched a wrench or a screwdriver.
“I grew up behind an automotive shop. I was a curious kid.”
That explained part of it. “As a little girl you were curious about mechanics?”
“My father considered a working knowledge of internal combustion engines to be a basic life skill.”
Cobra couldn’t exactly argue with that, even if there was something off in her tone when she said it. If he had to guess, he’d say she hadn’t been a willing pupil. But it was very progressive of her
father to teach her.
“I can check the fluid levels and belts,” she said. “Not to mention change a tire if I ever get a flat.”
“They don’t have auto shops in LA?”
She stepped back from the open cowling. “They do. And I call them if I’m dressed for work.”
“You shouldn’t change a tire on the side of a busy road.” He didn’t like the picture that painted in his mind, the cars whizzing past. And he particularly didn’t like to think about the kind of men who might be tempted to stop and pretend to help her when she was in such a vulnerable position.
“I’d call the shop,” she said. “If for no other reason than to protect my manicure.”
“There are plenty of other reasons to call a bonded professional. Safety, for example.”
“They’re doing flightseeing tours out there,” she said, changing the topic and looking through the open door to the parking lot and the airstrip beyond.
“Probably up to the Pedestal Glacier and along the Paradise Valley to Briar Falls. You’ll also get a great view of the creek falls off the airstrip as you’re taking off.” Cobra wouldn’t mind taking her flying himself. He wondered how Brodie would react if he offered.
“Not really my thing,” she said.
“Are you sure? People pay big money for that tour.”
“I saw enough mountain vistas on the way in,” she said. Then she grimaced. “I sometimes get a little airsick.”
“Ouch.” He could understand her reluctance. Some passengers had very bad experiences in small planes. Everything, the bumps, the jolts, the turns and altitude changes, were sharper and more sudden than in an airliner.
Her hand went reflexively to her stomach. “I think I’ll play this one safe.”
Cobra felt guilty wasting work time standing here talking to her, so he stepped up to the engine and reached inside to unfasten the tach drive.
“I didn’t notice that last night,” she said.
Puzzled, he turned his head.
She was pointing to the back of his neck. “Can I?”
He could guess what it was she’d seen. “Sure.” He stilled for her.
She reached up to the collar of his coveralls and gently pulled it down, her fingertips grazing the back of his neck and sending a wave of desire plummeting through him.
He gasped and hoped she hadn’t heard.
“It’s a snake,” she said as she revealed the tattoo. “Bend a little.”
He did, and her breath puffed lightly against his skin. He gripped hard on the ratchet handle wrench.
It took her a minute to speak. It felt like a long, long minute. “It’s not too ugly.”
He chuckled, breaking the spell. “You don’t like tattoos?”
“I don’t like snakes. But it’s stylized enough to be . . . inoffensive.”
He straightened and joked. “Inoffensive. That’s truly what I was striving for when I got it.”
She went quiet then.
He turned, worried he’d been rude. “I didn’t mean—”
But she didn’t look offended. She looked . . . desirable. Her lips were soft, pink, slightly parted. Her eyes were wide, sparkling like emeralds in the sunbeams. The skin of her cheeks looked so touchable and soft. His hands were far too rough and dirty to touch her but, man, he was tempted.
She took a half step closer, making it even harder for him to resist. But he steeled himself, tightening his grip on the wrench and curling his left hand into a fist by his side.
She tipped her chin and tilted her head to exactly the right angle for a kiss. “Didn’t mean what?” she asked softly.
The wrench clanged to the ground, bouncing off the oil-stained concrete.
He cupped her cheek with one hand and wrapped his arm around the base of her spine, lowering his lips to meet hers.
The kiss all but exploded between them. Her mouth was mobile, soft and sweet. He tried to be gentle, but instinct took over, and he kissed her harder, deeper, pressing her against his—
He abruptly let go, dragging himself back, horrified that he’d ruined her clothes with the grease on his coveralls. She was wearing a pink blouse for God’s sake, pale pink, all soft and silky, clinging to her slim shoulders.
“What?” she asked, breathless, looking confused.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
“Look at you.” There was an oil smear on the front of her shirt, and he could have kicked himself for his stupidity.
She looked down for a minute. “Oh.”
There was a streak of dirt on her cheek where he’d touched her.
He pointed. “There.”
She rubbed the spot away. “Better?”
“Yes. I’m sorry, Marnie. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Probably the same thing I was thinking.”
He waited, hoping she’d tell him exactly what that was.
But she didn’t.
“Your shirt is ruined,” he guiltily pointed out. “I’ll buy you a new one.”
“That’s not necessary. Really. I’m the one who wandered into a repair shop dressed like this.”
“I’m the guy who pulled you into his arms.”
Her green-eyed gaze met his again—like soft moss after a cool shower. “Mistake on both our parts.”
He didn’t agree that any of it was her fault. All she’d done was stand there looking desirable. He was the one who’d lost control.
“But no real harm,” she said, squaring her shoulders and glancing to the beaver engine. “You have work to do. I should leave you to it.”
Yes, he did have work to do, but he didn’t want her to leave.
Still, he didn’t stop her, and she walked away, out through the bay door, back to the airstrip and the group of women where she belonged.
* * *
* * *
Marnie, Mia and Raven decided to sit out the afternoon’s scavenger hunt, opting to have a visit instead. Breena had the event well in hand. She’d received permission to use Finding Paradise as a technical project in one of her courses, so she’d developed a custom app for the scavenger hunt and downloaded it onto the participants’ phones.
Split into groups, they were given a starting point in town and, using clues, had to upload photos of assigned items—things like moose hair tufting on leather mittens at Greenway Gifts, the grizzly bear carving behind Caldwell Corner Gas, and the eagles’ nest at the end of the block by the school.
The app was impressive. Breena had showed it to Marnie earlier. When completed, a detailed map of the town appeared on screen, while colorful confetti and balloons burst out to celebrate the achievement.
Marnie, Mia and Raven had convened at Raven’s cabin where Mia was living while she and Silas built a house nearby. Having visited Mia at the Lafayette mansion, Marnie was shocked to find her living in such battered, shabby surroundings. It reminded Marnie uncomfortably of the old house where she’d grown up in Merganser, Kansas.
The floor was faded linoleum, pitched and hollowed. The countertops were made of raw wood, painted white with open shelves above them that held mismatched dishes and a collection of dry goods.
Marnie was sitting gingerly on a saggy, faded red brocade sofa in a tiny living room around the corner from the kitchen. Mia and Raven were curled up across from her, each looking perfectly at home in stained beige armchairs. Between them was a battered coffee table, against the wall was a black wood stove with glowing coals that radiated heat.
“Too early for wine?” Raven asked.
“It’s almost three.” Mia unwound her legs, stepped into her shoes and moved into the kitchen, taking a bottle of wine from a shelf below the counter. “Old World red?”
“Works for me,” Raven said.
“Sure,” Marnie added her agreement. “Love some.” She
glanced further around the rooms, wondering whether to gently phrase a question about Mia’s thoughts on living in this cabin or diplomatically keep her mouth shut.
Raven took in Marnie’s expression and chuckled. “You look just like Mia did the first day she came here.”
Marnie tried to school her features, not wanting to insult either of them.
“Horror was my reaction,” Mia called from the kitchen. “Well, horror and terror.”
“Terror?” Marnie asked with a reflexive glance into the corners, wondering if there was some creepy-crawly thing she had to worry about and if she should lift her feet to avoid it.
“Silas scared the crap out of me,” Mia said. “His grim attitude, angry eyes and all that rugged, muscled, broad-shouldered height.”
Marnie had met Silas, once in LA and again yesterday. He seemed thoughtful and easy-going, and completely devoted to Mia. Although he was tall and fit, he was more handsome than anything. He wasn’t particularly rugged, at least compared to Cobra.
Marnie pressed her lips together, feeling the echo of Cobra’s kiss. She remembered his arm so firmly around her, pressing her close, overwhelming her senses with want and passion. The memory was so vivid that her skin warmed even now, and desire threatened to swamp her all over again.
“You should tell her,” Raven said to Mia, eager anticipation in her expression.
“Tell me what?” Marnie asked, liking the idea of distraction.
Mia opened her hands. “I guess I have to tell her now.”
Raven grinned. “It’s funny. Plus, she’s your lawyer. It’s not like she can divulge your secret to anyone.”
“Secret?” Marnie repeated, genuinely interested now.
Mia gathered three acrylic tumblers of red wine in her hands and returned to the living room.
Marnie carefully took the first one from the cluster. The plastic was lined with cracks, and the glass was covered in pink and green beach umbrellas.
“We don’t much stand on ceremony,” Mia said.
Remembering the fine crystal stemware at the Lafayette mansion, Marnie knew that was an understatement.
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