by Devon McKay
“Thanks.” She accepted the drink gratefully, opened it, and took a long swig. “I know I talk a lot, especially if it’s something I’m passionate about. I find Alaska fascinating. It’s one of the reasons I fought so hard to land this account.”
Blake nodded. It was nice to hear someone appreciating the state he loved so much. “I’m pretty sure you’re going to love this old homesteader’s cabin then. It’s just through the clearing over there.” He pointed in the direction of the cabin.
Even though Blake knew where the building was by heart, the old structure was hard to see amongst the surrounding land overrun with the state’s most prominent wild flower.
“Fireweed,” she whispered, in apparent awe of the acres of pink flowers standing in between them and the cabin.
“Yeah.” Blake plucked one of the long shoots next to the rock and handed it to her.
Sam’s face flushed a pretty pink, almost the deep shade of the flower. She reached out, and the heat of her fingers clamped around his hand as she accepted the offering. The light caress spiked his pulse. How could it be possible even the slightest touch from the woman could cause such a response?
Tempting his restraint, he wrapped his hand over hers, and attempted to focus on the lower part of the stem and not her very kissable lips. “See how it’s only bloomed on the bottom half of the flower?”
She nodded, raising her head. A gleam of interest highlighted her ivy stare.
The warmth emanating off her skin inspired decadent images of her naked flesh. Blake swallowed hard against the sudden dryness of his mouth to continue. “When the flowers bloom all the way to the top, it means summer is nearing its end.”
He dropped his hand and stepped back. Needing the distraction, he took a long draw from his water bottle. If he didn’t get his head straight, he’d be seducing her in the field of fuchsia.
“Are you ready?” he asked, tucking the bottle back into his bag.
Sam nodded, but didn’t say a word.
Now, she’s quiet.
Blake wondered what was going on inside her head. Was it possible lust got her tongue? Was she sharing his same tormented thoughts?
It didn’t matter. He started walking again. Acting on the desire would only cause problems.
Halfway through the pasture, the cabin came into view, and he heard Sam suck in a surprised gasp of air behind him.
“I see it,” she exclaimed.
She voiced such elation, Blake could actually feel the energy sizzling in the air as she tugged on his sleeve and urged him into a faster pace. Rushing through the hip-high fireweed, they were at the cabin within a few minutes.
Blake took off his pack and laid it on the ground, then reached for her backpack and placed it beside his. Hot from the brisk walk, he removed his flannel and carelessly tossed the shirt on top of the packs as Sam walked around the outside of the shelter.
The small, one room building was still intact. A miracle considering its age. Broken glass opened the windows, and the door had long fallen off its makeshift hinges. Grass and sod covered the roof, and the chinking between the logs was in dire need of resealing, but it was still standing.
And it still felt like home.
Blake inhaled a ragged breath.
Regardless of the primitive structure, Sam seemed completely enthralled. A wave of satisfaction washed over him. This was a piece of history she never would have seen without his guidance.
A piece of his history.
“How old do you think it is?” she questioned, running her fingers over the aged wood.
“At least a hundred years,” he offered. “Homesteading was a way of life for many families. The government offered free acreage to people who wanted to—”
“Develop the land,” Sam finished. “I know. I did a little research on homesteading. The land is hard to cultivate. Not much in the way of produce was able to grow in the harsh seasons. A lot of homesteaders never survived.”
A fact he knew better than most. Damn the woman and her unnerving way of infiltrating the facts and putting him in his place. So much for being the best tour guide.
A little miffed at Ms. Know-It-All, he continued. “Yeah. It was a hard life. Some had luck with cabbage or small potatoes…that sort of thing.”
She paused at the doorway, and Blake grasped her arm, eyeing the roof again. The structure appeared sound enough for a quick peek inside, but he’d be damned if he’d let her go in without him testing it first.
Stepping in front of her, he took the lead. The single room shanty was larger inside than it appeared from outside, but even after all these years, he still struggled with the small space. Feeling a little claustrophobic, he inhaled a deep breath, then stepped to the side so Sam could enter.
She took it all in with a sharp, shrewd gaze. “So, this was what it was like living in Alaska?”
He nodded his head. Hard to believe this was once his home. It was now bare of personal artifacts, yet there were some reminders even time couldn’t fade. He walked back to the door and ran his fingers along the indented notches on the frame. Several well-worn marks, starting mid-thigh and ending a little below his waist, marked various heights of his childhood.
“Living Alaska,” she repeated in a soft whisper, as if trapped in her own thoughts. “Live Alaska. Oh my, it can’t be that easy. For Pete’s sake, even Stanley had said it.”
She pulled a small notebook and pen from her jacket pocket and started jotting down notes. After a few minutes, she tapped the pen on the pad in deep reflection.
Blake crossed his arms over his chest and stood close to the door, allowing himself quick access to the exit. Just in case. Being in the cabin was stirring up memories better left behind, however, there was something enticing about watching her work which kept him frozen in place. Fascinated, he couldn’t pull his gaze away, and he was thankful for the distraction from his painful past.
“It is this easy.” She spared a quick glance in his direction, and a shocked expression lined her face as if she’d just realized he was standing there.
“Live Alaska. Living off the land. Fishing for subsistence. Growing your own vegetables. Hunting for food. Panning for gold. It’s the perfect brochure. Factual. Realistic. True to life. Can you picture it?” she said out loud, as if bouncing the idea off of him.
Blake nodded. He’d lived the life. And as far as a tourist tag rag, the idea didn’t sound half-bad. At least it showed Alaska in the proper light.
Smiling, she tucked the pad back into her rear pocket. “Now, all I have to do is make those things seem fun.”
A spike of irritation prickled underneath his skin. Not wanting to admit it, he’d been on board with her idea up until the last part. In fact, he could almost picture what she’d been saying. Even kind of liked the idea.
“Those things are fun. Sure, it’s hard. But well worth the sacrifice,” he said defensively, knowing full well his irritation was more about what the cabin represented and less about what Sam had actually said.
She spun around, facing him with a bewildered expression gracing her features. She took a step forward and placed her hand on his chest. Sudden heat sweltered in the spot where her fingers skimmed his skin around the rim of the tank top.
“I didn’t mean to sound so callous. Sometimes I get carried away. What I meant was…” She paused, her gaze quickly scanning over the length of his body.
Blake held up his hand, stopping her explanation. He needed air. And lots of it. When had the cabin gotten so small he could hardly breathe?
He knew the exact moment. The one eternally frozen in time—fourteen years ago when his mother had walked out the door.
And now.
Rashly, he escaped the small confinement, shamed by the evident crack in his armor. Hearing the crunch of boots on the gravel, he knew Sam had exited the cabin and now stood behind him. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around his waist.
He tensed up as her embrace crushed his ribs and held firm. Overw
helmed with emotions he’d long ago buried, he attempted to shake free of her hold.
“No, Blake. I’m not going anywhere.” Sam clenched her hands together and tightened her grasp. “I get it, now. You lived here. This is your old home. This isn’t about what I said. It’s not even about me. It’s about this cabin and memories you’d rather forget,” she said thoughtfully.
Despite his internal battle, her words filtered in and made sense. He relinquished control, welcoming the comfort Sam offered. “I’m okay now. It was a shock that’s all. Everything just hit me at once. I’ve been here a dozen times. Just never inside.” He inhaled a shaky breath. “My mother…she wasn’t good with responsibilities…mostly me. The homesteading was too much for a single woman burdened with a son to take on.” He forced a casual shrug. “One day I woke up, and she was gone. I haven’t seen her since. She left me. Just like my dad left her when he found out she was pregnant.”
Sam released her hold and stepped out from behind. Facing him, she grasped his hands and stabbed at his soul with an ivy green stare.
“I’m so sorry, Blake. That’s truly horrible. In fact, it’s breaking my heart in two, but you aren’t the only one who has ever been abandoned. Or unwanted.” Tears pooled in her eyes and threatened to spill, but Sam managed to hold them back as she continued. “Trust me…I’ve been there, too. It’s a darkness we share. You don’t have to go through this alone. Not anymore.”
Gazing into her eyes, he could see a reflection of pain and what her words could not say. She did know. The acknowledgement seized his heart and wrenched, tightening his chest with its unseen grip. Shocked by her brave show of vulnerability, a fierce need to protect her surged underneath his skin.
Unable to speak, he grazed her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. It was hard to imagine how she could’ve ever been unwanted. He had never seen a more desirable woman.
Blake gently tilted her chin and leaned in, brushing her lips with a light kiss. “What do you say we get out of here? Find a place to set up camp before it gets dark?”
Sam responded without words as the warmth of her hand clutched his.
She was right—he didn’t feel alone.
Chapter 12
Sam eyed Blake curiously. During the twenty minute hike in search of the perfect campsite, they didn’t speak of what happened at the cabin.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to know anyway.
The vulnerability she’d witnessed had been heartbreaking. Not to mention the way she’d responded. Floored by the intense need to comfort the man, she’d only wanted to take away his pain. No matter the cost.
The foreign emotion had been so natural, she had to question her reaction. Up until now, she’d only felt desire. This—whatever this was—was new territory. And scary as hell.
Blake stopped and laid his pack down. “Should be a good spot to camp.”
The open area was flat with enough level ground for a perfect campsite. He stared past her for a moment before lowering his gaze and kicking at a rock on the ground.
Sam glanced over her shoulder at the cabin in the distance. Only the tip of the roof could be seen now, and somehow, she knew he’d spent many a night camped out here in this very spot. A mere child. Alone. The thought was devastating. How could a mother walk away from her own son? How many nights had he waited for her to return before Denali’s family took him in?
“You hungry?” Blake settled on the hard ground. Unzipping his backpack, he rifled through and pulled out a vacuum packed baggie containing dark burgundy strips of meat.
Sam nodded, seeking some kind of emotion in his expressionless face. Unable to read him, she dropped her pack and sat on the ground, using the heavy tote as a backrest.
“What is it?” she asked as he withdrew a pocket knife and cut into the bag. Immediately, a rich, smoky scent filled the air.
“Dinner. Smoked salmon jerky. It’s good.” Blake held the bag open so she could grab a piece. “Some call it squaw candy. I’m sure you’ll find offense to the name. It’s not exactly considered socially acceptable.”
Sam hesitated, eyeing the food warily before reaching in and picking a solid square. “What happened to the MRE’s?” She rolled the chunk in her fingers and then cautiously tasted the fish with the tip of her tongue. Deciding it was safe to eat, she nibbled an end before taking a larger bite. “Wow, this is really good,” she admitted, seizing the bag he held and retrieving a long strip.
Relishing a healthy bite, she closed her eyes and savored the tangy meat as it melted in her mouth. Opening her eyes, she caught Blake’s intense gaze. Flustered by the embarrassing display of wanton gluttony, she glanced away as a warm rush crawled up her neck and heated her cheeks.
“I’m glad you like it. I figured it was better than a powdered meal. Try the moose now.”
He withdrew another vacuum sealed bag from his pack, which held a dark brown version of meat strips. Slicing the bag open, he held out a piece.
Sam shook her head and reached for more dried salmon instead. “Not yet. I’m still enjoying this.”
Blake shrugged and took a bite of the moose jerky. “After this, we can put up the tents and then maybe go for a swim?” He pointed in the direction of the small body of water running alongside their campsite.
“In the creek?”
“Yeah. There’s a spot down the way which opens into a decent sized pool. The water might even be bearable, considering how nice it’s been today.”
It had been a hot day, but the sudden warmth rushing under her skin wasn’t from the weather. In response, Sam cooled off by fanning herself with her hand. A vision of Blake’s half-naked physique swimming in a body of water flashed before her mind’s eye. She swallowed hard against the sudden lump lodged in her throat.
Clothed in a white tank, his muscles were on display. She had been trying not to notice, but with the swimming comment it was nearly impossible. Her stare was drawn to the way the thin material clung to his body in all the right places, showcasing not only his large biceps, but the chiseled six pack usually hidden beneath his trademark flannel. For a moment, she lost all train of thought.
Sam sucked in a deep lungful of air and abruptly got to her feet. She brushed off her backside in an attempt to clear the decadent vision. “Where should I set up my tent?” She dumped the contents of her backpack onto the ground.
“Right there looks good.” Blake wiped his hands on his pant leg and stood. He gathered the food, placed it in a zip-locked baggie and put it back into his pack.
Without a word, they began setting up the tents. Sam was determined to attempt the feat on her own. She managed to get the tent rods snapped together correctly, but struggled when it came to which pole went where. Exasperated, she stole a peek in Blake’s direction.
His pavilion stood tall, a distinct opposite of the fiasco lying in a colorful heap of red, yellow, and blue before her. During the time it had taken her to figure out the pieces, he had already had his camp set up, including his sleeping bag in its rightful place inside the tent.
Chuckling, he came over to help. With the same practiced detail as last night, the strength of his sturdy arms wound around her. His knowing fingers guided her hands, placing the tent rods in the correct places.
The heat of his breath warmed her neck, and she fought against the lustful shiver it caused.
Yeah, a nice swim was exactly what she needed now. Hopefully, the water was ice cold.
****
Sam quirked an eyebrow as she swam to Blake’s side. “Invigorating, isn’t it?”
It was freezing, but he was used to this. After the initial shock, his body adjusted to the frigid water. What he wasn’t used to, however, was the fact the woman before him seemed so at ease.
Samantha Held was a mystery. She hadn’t hesitated. Not even a toe dip to test the temperature. No, she dived right in without even a second thought. Not so different from the way she’d comforted him earlier.
“You have to keep your body moving,�
�� she commanded, as if swimming in ice cold water was second nature.
She was only an inch away, and the heat from her body warmed the glacial barrier between them in an exciting blend of fire and ice. Ironically, it was the same way he thought of her.
“I love to swim,” she confessed with a guilty grin.
The creamy white skin of her breast dipped in and out of the water, exposing a dark rose outline of her nipple through the thin, nude color lace of her bra. An instantaneous surge of desire rushed through him, but he managed to resist the urge to place his mouth over the tasty morsel and suckle until she cried out in passion.
“There you go,” she continued. “If you move your body, it won’t be so cold.”
It didn’t help the water nymph was so damn inviting. With a gleeful smile and her hair slicked back, she was quite the tempting mermaid, a perfect rendition of a sailor’s dream.
Consumed by lust, he fought the need to touch her and swam a few feet away, the distance not just a necessity…an emergency.
“Are you warming up yet?”
Blake spun around, the arctic water cooling his ardor enough so he could face her again. Unfortunately, the wanton lust returned full force as the water lapped at her bared skin.
An impetuous smile lit her face, showcasing two little dimples in her cheeks he hadn’t noticed before. She appeared…uninhibited.
Completely, painfully, uninhibited.
Groaning out loud, he closed his eyes, but the image refused to budge as desire slammed into him like a freight train. Yeah, he was warmed up all right.
Without explanation, he swam to the bank and got out. Slipping into his jeans, he turned back in time to see her nearly bare backside as she dove underneath the water.
Sam emerged close to the bank. “Too cold for you, sport?” she teased.
The woman was a vision he’d never forget as she walked up the bank and out of the water.
A strong wave of lust pulled at him from the inside out as he watched small beads of liquid trickle down her satin skin. What he wouldn’t do to catch a trail with his tongue.