Match Made In Paradise
Page 30
“They’re up in the rotation,” Brodie said. “Business is not going to be interrupted by this.”
Cobra moved to the bench and took a clean shop rag from the pile to wipe his hands. “I can take the right seat if that helps.”
Cobra had trained as a pilot in the military. Although he didn’t keep his hours current enough to serve as pilot in command, he could take the first officer’s seat when needed.
“You’re just trying to get out of town.”
Cobra gave a shrug. “Maybe.”
Brodie grinned. “Nice of you to offer, but I’m not making concessions to this madness.”
“You let them take over half your staff housing.” Cobra turned to rest his hips against the workbench, matching Brodie’s posture.
The air compressor finished chugging and hissed to silence and the fluorescent’s buzz above them filled the space.
“Mia saved my PC-12 from crashing,” Brodie said, referring to the time Mia Westberg had cleared airstrip debris in the middle of a flood.
“Plus, Raven wanted this,” Cobra added.
Brodie’s eyes narrowed as he sent Cobra a sidelong glance. “Keeping the peace between Raven and me is important to the town.”
That was true enough. Raven was operations manager at Galina Expediting. Together with Brodie’s company West Slope Aviation, they supplied outlying mining, scientific and wilderness tourism operations all across central Alaska. The two companies made up the majority of Paradise’s economy.
“They redecorated half of your housing units—girlified them, according to Peter.”
“That wasn’t Raven.”
Cobra knew Brodie had a soft spot for Raven. He also knew enough to let that particular subject drop. “Mia?”
WSA’s chief pilot Silas Burke’s new fiancée Mia was a former supermodel and had a flare for the artistic. She’d first come to town in June, and she was behind the matchmaking project. She’d also had an impact on the décor over at the Bear and Bar Café, and now she had Silas building her a swanky new house beside the river.
“Who else?” Brodie asked with an arch of his brow. “Dusty rose. My walls are dusty rose.”
“Is that a real color?” Cobra moved a few steps to the refreshment fridge at the end of the workbench. Since he was off the clock now, he pulled out a couple of beers holding one up to Brodie as a question.
Brodie nodded, and Cobra tossed him the can.
“You should see the curtains,” Brodie said, sounding like he was in pain. “Watercolor paintings and frilly curtains and something called wainscoting.”
“What’s wainscoting?” A picture was forming in Cobra’s mind. He’d heard sawing and hammering next door to his own WSA staff housing unit for weeks now. He’d never been inclined to check out what Peter and the construction crew were doing.
“It’s trim, fancy wooden trim.”
“Does it add any structural value?” Cobra popped the top of his beer can.
“A little, maybe, I suppose. But it’s white and . . . you know . . . dusty rose.”
“So, white and pink?”
Brodie grimaced.
“Like a little girl’s bedroom.” Cobra covered his smirk with a chug of his beer. It tasted good going down, crisp, cold and refreshing. He realized how long it had been since he’d taken a break. He stretched out his neck and shoulders.
“Sure.” Brodie took a drink himself. “Kick a man when he’s down.”
Cobra’s grin broadened. “There is one upside.”
Brodie gestured with the can. “I don’t want to hear any optimism from you.”
“Okay.”
It took Brodie less than a minute to crack. “Alright. Give it to me.”
“Pretty women.”
Brodie frowned. “That’s not the upside. It’s the downside.”
“Potato, Potahto.”
“No. All downside for me. I’m not interested in any of that, but all of my pilots are.”
Cobra guessed Brodie was only interested in Raven—who was pretty herself in a not-so-flashy, down-to-earth way. But he wasn’t going to bring her up again.
“Don’t tell me you’re interested now,” Brodie said with mock disgust. “You’re the only other guy on Team This-is-Stupid.”
“Not my thing,” Cobra said.
Brodie gave him an odd look.
“Short term,” Cobra elaborated. “I have zero interest in getting to know a woman who’s only sticking around for seventy-two hours. Plus, they’re lower-forty-eight, big-city. Could you have found any less likely group of women for this?”
“I didn’t find them,” Brodie pointed out.
“Why not from Anchorage or Wyoming?” Targeting LA had struck Cobra as flawed from the beginning.
“Wyoming?”
“Rural women who don’t expect five-star dining and maybe know their way around a shovel or a well-pump.”
Brodie straightened away from the workbench. “I said that weeks ago. I suggested some perfectly practical screening questions, but I was shouted down. It’s pointless to let people think Paradise is all sipping brandy in front of an open fire.”
“It’s not an easy life up here.”
“It’s a great life.” Brodie pointed around with his beer can for emphasis. “But it’s not cushy by any stretch. And did you see the website they built?”
“I did not.” Cobra was surprised that Brodie had.
“All vistas and bonfires, snowmobiles and fun. They showed the France’s house, like that’s typical of where people live around here.”
Mrs. France owned the Bear and Bar Café, and the France family had the fanciest house in town.
“They dressed up a section of the Bear and Bar for a photoshoot.” Brodie was clearly on a roll, and Cobra settled back to sip his beer and listen. “Tablecloths and silverware and flowers. It’s false advertising, I tell you. And Mia—they used Silas and Mia’s happily-ever-after story, set him all combed and clean shaven in his flight suit in the sunshine in front of a freshly washed bush plane, Mia holding his hand all uber citified, like anyone from LA would naturally fit in up here. Do they show the mud? No. Do they show the mosquitoes? No. Mia barely escaped a bear attack. Do they mention that? No.”
Cobra was sympathetic but also entertained by how worked up Brodie was getting over the whole crazy idea. He quickly raised his beer to hide his grin.
Brodie caught the expression anyway and scowled. “This isn’t a joke.”
“I know. But you’re headed off the deep end there.”
Brodie jabbed his thumb against his chest. “I’m the rare voice of reason.”
Cobra polished off the beer then dropped his empty into the recycle bin. “Here’s the thing about these women, Brodie. They’re small. They’re slow. They’ll probably wear high heels. I’m liking our chances of a clean escape.”
Brodie cracked a smile then too.
Cobra clapped him on the shoulder. “Bob and weave, Brodie. Bob and weave. We’ll make it through the weekend.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Barbara Dunlop has published over fifty novels with Harlequin Books and eight novels with Tule Publishing. Her stories have ranged from light hearted comedies to family sagas. Barbara is a four time finalist for the RWA RITA award, and her Tule novel His Jingle Bell Princess has been optioned by Motion Picture Corporation of America for a Hallmark movie. Barbara's Tule novels have ranked as high as #1 on Amazon.com.
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