True North (Golden Falls Fire Book 1)

by Scarlett Andrews

  “But I need you with me,” Abby said. “This is supposed to be our ‘Sex and the City’ phase of life. We’ve planned it for years.”

  “I know, but we never planned for Stalker Doug.”

  “Very true.”

  “We’ll still have our ‘Sex and the City’ phase, don’t worry,” Cassie said. “But in the meantime, Golden Falls is a good place to catch my breath and fly under the radar.”

  “Just don’t fall in love with Survivor-Man.”

  “Do I ever fall in love?” Cassie asked rhetorically, deciding not to tell Abby she’d already half-fallen for Cody’s unabashed masculinity and complete self-reliance.

  “Not since I’ve known you,” Abby said.

  Cassie updated her on the call and texts she’d gotten from Stalker Doug. They brainstormed on how Doug might have gotten her number but came up short.

  “Does Cody know about him?” Abby asked.

  “No,” Cassie said. “I don’t want him to think I’m some damsel in distress. Trust me, that would be a huge turnoff to him.”

  And that was the last thing she wanted.

  11

  A few days later, Cody picked her up to take her shopping at an outfitting store so she could buy the gear she’d need for their future Alaska lessons. Neither had referred to the outing as a date, but Cassie couldn’t help thinking of it that way—their first date after their first kiss. Hair, makeup, nails, and shaving her legs just-in-case had all been given suitable attention.

  When she heard the throaty rumble of his pickup truck, she gathered her things and went outside. Coming around to the sidewalk, Cody lifted a hand in greeting and opened the passenger door for her. He wore a well-fitting blue T-shirt that matched the glacier color of his eyes, and the outline of his chest and abs underneath the shirt was unmistakable. He wore his shirt untucked, and Cassie knew she’d be thinking all day for an excuse to move her hand underneath it and feel his muscles.

  “I hope you don’t mind I brought my dogs,” he said.

  “Of course not!”

  Cassie had always wanted but never had a pet. She’d loved her grandmother’s dachshund as if it were her own, but it had gone to her aunt after her grandmother’s death, as Cassie’s apartment hadn’t allowed pets. She missed the dog dearly.

  “Who do we have here?” she said, laughing at the two dogs loose in the front seat, both of whom eagerly stuck their noses out the open window in hopes of attention.

  “This is Diamond, shoving her way forward,” Cody said, reaching to pet a large dog. Her shining coat was mostly black, but her chest was a white, roughly diamond-shaped spot, and her eyebrows were brown. “She’s a Bernese Mountain Dog.”

  “Hi, Diamond.” Cassie offered the back of her hand for the dog to sniff.

  “Diamond has bad manners,” Cody said, reaching beyond Diamond to pet the other dog, long-haired and majestic black-and-white. “This guy’s Timber, too smart for his own good. Dogs, get in the back.”

  The dogs immediately climbed into the backseat of the pickup. Cassie was impressed at their training.

  “Is Timber a Malamute?” she asked. It was a popular breed in Alaska, especially for sled-dog teams.

  “He’s a Malamute-German Shepherd mix,” Cody said. “Also called an Alaskan Shepherd.”

  Cassie could see the blend instantly. Timber had the size, ears, and markings of a German Shepherd but the coloring of a Malamute.

  “So you’re not totally alone out there on your property.”

  “Hell, no. I’d go crazy without the dogs,” Cody said. “I’m already too much in my head sometimes.”

  He seemed more subdued than usual that day, which was saying something, and his greeting had been devoid of any sexual energy. She wondered if he regretted their kiss.

  She sure didn’t.

  “What’s it like when you’re too much in your head?” she asked once they were driving.

  “Oh, I don’t know.” He gave her a quick sideways glance. “I just like to think things through. Look at it from all angles.”

  With one chiseled arm on the steering wheel and the other resting on his open window frame, he looked sexy as hell. He didn’t have an ounce of unnecessary weight on him, and as someone who worked very hard to keep up with the physical expectations that came along with broadcast journalism, Cassie appreciated his fitness. She’d like to see it in action. In the bedroom.

  “Like what?” she probed. “Give me an example.”

  “Okay,” he said, and then paused. “I’ve been meaning to apologize.”

  “For what?”

  “For kissing you the other day. I don’t think it’s smart for us to start something like that.”

  “Oh.” His words were like a punch in the gut. One hundred percent not what she was expecting. Or wanting. “Can I ask why not?”

  His hand tightened on the steering wheel. “Because you’re leaving.”

  “Not right now, I’m not.”

  “But eventually you will.” He kept his eyes on the road. “And I don’t want to invest in a relationship with a woman if she’s just passing through.”

  Ouch.

  “Why can’t we keep it casual?” she said. “Just because I’m leaving doesn’t mean we can’t have fun together.”

  “I’m not a casual kind of guy.”

  Cassie had already figured that out. Truth be told, it was one of his most endearing qualities.

  “So where does that leave us?”

  He glanced at her. “As friends, hopefully.”

  Cassie crossed her arms, not used to being rejected and not liking it one bit. She hadn’t realized how much she was anticipating a relationship with Cody until it was suddenly off the table.

  “If that’s what you want,” she said, unable to stop the note of disappointment that crept into her voice. “What about our Alaska lessons?”

  “Of course. As long as it’s just as friends.”

  “Of course,” she said, echoing him but with a bit more curtness. “Are you afraid I can’t keep my hands off you or something?”

  “Well, there was a lot of passion in that kiss.”

  A shock of lust ran through her as she recalled the kiss. He was right about the passion. If they’d been somewhere more private, she would have begged him to fuck her senseless. And the truth was, she wasn’t sure if she could keep her hands off him—the man had a damn fine body and a rugged masculinity she was dying to see play out in bed—but she wasn’t about to admit that to him. Not now. Not if he didn’t want her, too.

  “I agree the kiss was passionate,” she said. “But I don’t kiss my friends like that—so your loss, Survivor-Man.”

  Cassie’s townhouse was on the north side of the river that divided the city. Cody turned south, and they crossed over via the Third Street Bridge.

  “Have you been to the waterfall yet?” he asked as they drove over the rushing river and tumbling waterfall in the middle of town.

  Cassie could tell he was desperate to change the conversation. She said she had, and asked how Golden Falls got its name.

  “The city was founded back in the gold rush days, and gold nuggets were found under the falls by prospectors,” he told her. “You should see the falls in winter. The water freezes midstream, and people drive and ice skate on the river.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Not kidding,” Cody said. “They even string up lights across the part of the river that’s adjacent to the park so people can skate at night.”

  It sounded incredibly romantic to Cassie, and she would have loved to skate hand-in-hand with Cody down the river, under lights strung across it. Obviously, that wasn’t going to happen now.

  “So what’s on today’s agenda?” she asked. “After the outfitter’s, I mean?”

  “I thought I’d show you how to build a fire. Then afterwards, we could go to the Sled Dog Brewing Company and eat some reindeer dogs. Make it two lessons in one day.”

  “Reindeer dogs?’ Cassie la
ughed, trying to conceal how hollow she felt at being put in the dreaded friend-zone. “Is that another Alaska delicacy?”

  “I wouldn’t say they’re a delicacy. They’re similar to plain old hot dogs, but more of a sausage. They’re usually about a third reindeer, a third pork, and a third beef, served with grilled onions and mustard. You’re not a vegetarian or anything, are you?”

  “Definitely not,” Cassie said. “I ate the moose stew, remember? But I’m not sure how I feel about eating Rudolph.”

  Cody laughed as he pulled into a large, locally-owned outfitter’s shop. Cassie started to open her car door, but he told her not to.

  “Allow me,” he said. “Dogs, you stay.”

  Cody came around, opened her door, and helped her down.

  “Do you always open the door for your friends?” she asked, allowing the tiniest bit of snark to come through in her tone.

  “I do if they’re ladies.”

  “Chivalry,” she said, although it felt like a consolation prize. “Is that another Alaska thing or is it a Cody thing?”

  He smiled down at her. “It’s a Cody thing.”

  Being so close to him was intoxicating, and she couldn’t help but step closer. She wanted him to wrap his strong arms around her and for him to make her feel safe. She wanted to lay her head against his chest, listen for his heartbeat, and match her breathing to his. She wanted him to hold her as if she was the most precious person on earth.

  Not just some friend with whom he’d shared one kiss and for whom he’d now open doors.

  They went inside the shop. When she picked out a surprisingly elegant insulating vest, he laughed.

  “Of course you’d go for Prana,” he said. “It’s the Gucci of outdoor gear.”

  “You know Gucci?”

  “I’m not a total caveman,” he said. “I watch movies and stuff.”

  “I’m impressed,” Cassie said, and ended up buying the vest.

  Five hundred dollars’ worth of outdoor and cold weather gear later, including a pair of Gore-Tex boots, they emerged. Cody offered to pay since he was the one coming up with activities requiring the gear, but Cassie refused. A lot of the clothing was actually cute, in bright and fun colors, and fitted for a woman.

  “So where are we going to make the campfire?” she asked once they were driving again.

  “Well, I want to give you the most authentic experience,” he said. “And since it’s a mild day, I want to recreate the usual crappy conditions under which you typically might start a fire. So we’re going up to Nugget Hill. It’s a public use area about twenty minutes north of town, and it should be windy at the overlook to make it challenging for you.”

  “I do like a challenge,” she said. He glanced at her, questioningly, and she clarified, “No, Cody, I didn’t mean you.”

  But she had, of course, and if he was confused about it, that was too bad for him.

  They drove out of town and eventually turned onto a road with a brown-and-white sign that told Cassie they were at the Nugget Hill Recreation Area. As they gained elevation, she realized they hadn’t passed another car for miles.

  A terrifying thought struck her.

  “Are there bears out here?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Of course.”

  “Please tell me you’re joking.”

  “Nope.” He shrugged. “Bears are just another part of Alaska. I’m sure you’ll come across one at some point during your time here—hell, they amble down Main Street sometimes!—but they tend to stay away from people. There’s more than enough for them to eat in the wild, and if they do come into the city, it’s to eat human garbage, not humans.”

  “I should tell you I’m afraid of bears. Maybe I’ve seen too many movies.”

  Cody grinned. “I’ve heard they don’t like the taste of New Yorkers. Something about the meat being too tough.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Very funny, Cody.”

  “Thank you. I thought so.”

  “So you’ve seen bears up close?”

  “Hundreds of times,” he said. “They scrounge blueberries from my bushes at home, the bastards. The fire department runs bear nuisance calls, too, so I deal with them on a regular basis at work.”

  “How do you get rid of them?”

  “You just shout at them to go away and shoo them to a more appropriate area. The danger is if they have cubs, of course, or if they’re taken by surprise and feel threatened. So don’t go bear-stalking.”

  Stalking. Hearing the word was an unexpected shock.

  “Hey, don’t look so worried,” Cody said. “We won’t encounter a bear today. And if we do, I’ve got my gun.”

  “Your gun!?”

  “I know it’s different in New York—you folks don’t do guns. But there are wild animals out here that can kill you, and if you get stranded or snowed in and have to hunt yourself some food, a gun makes it a hell of a lot easier. Or if you think you’re within hearing range of someone, you can fire three shots in succession to indicate distress. A gun can make the difference in survival.”

  “How many do you have?”

  “Three,” he said. “I’ve got a .357 Magnum in the glove box right there, and at home I’ve got a shotgun and a hunting rifle.”

  “There as in six inches away from me?”

  Cassie turned her knees to the side and stared at the glove box as if it might pop open and the gun fly out into her hands.

  “There’s nothing to fear about guns,” Cody said. “In fact, one of your lessons is going to be shooting the rifle. I bet you’ll like it. I’ve found that women tend to be better shots than men.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “They must have better balance or hand-eye coordination or something. Or maybe they’re just calmer about holding life and death in their hands.”

  “That must be it.” Cassie couldn’t help but smile. She imagined herself holding a big revolver in her hands and pointing it at the dark silhouette of the man who’d hounded her, who’d frightened her, who’d threatened her, who’d … she imagined pulling the trigger, and the idea of it was actually quite satisfying.

  A few minutes later, the road petered out into a large gravel turnaround, where Cody parked and let the dogs out of the truck. As they raced off to explore, he reached into the bed of the truck, brought out a leather-sheathed ax, and held it up for her to see.

  “Ready to do this?”

  Cassie grimaced at the sight of the ax. So many dangerous items people used in Alaska! But she told Cody she was ready, and they followed the light of the late evening sun through the trees west of the parking area and stopped when they reached the small crest of the hill.

  “Oh, wow,” Cassie said. “This view is stunning.”

  She could see the town of Golden Falls and the entire Nanook Valley below. The river was a winding ribbon of reflective gold, and the forests surrounding it were a deep velvety green. Cassie could just barely see the patch of pure white of the waterfall adjacent to downtown. The sun wouldn’t set until nearly eleven p.m. these late July evenings, but to the west the jagged peaks of the Alaska Range were already cast into dark purple shadows, including the massive bulk of Denali. It hadn’t been a windy day, but up on the hill there was a breeze. Cassie was glad for her new insulated vest.

  “Here’s a spot for you,” Cody said, pointing at a large ring of rocks that had obviously been used for a bonfire before. “And here’s a felled tree for you to chop.”

  It was a huge tree, two feet in diameter at least.

  “Do I have to cut that whole thing up?” she asked.

  “No, that’s for the advanced class, along with cabin-building and moose-wrangling.”

  Cassie laughed, not able to imagine herself doing either one.

  “Let me watch you first,” she said. “Show me how it’s done.”

  Cody took the ax out of its sheath, chose a pine branch that had already been cut on one end, moved it away from the rest, and brought the ax onto his shoulder
. Cassie stood with arms crossed, enjoying the view.

  “Pay close attention,” he said.

  “Oh, I am!”

  This was like a real life fantasy come true, her very own sexy lumberjack. And just because she couldn’t have Cody didn’t mean she couldn’t want him.

  “It’s like casting a fishing line in that it’s all in the swing,” he said. “Don’t watch the ax—stare right at the spot you want to hit.” He brought the ax down with a swift stroke, and it embedded itself deep in the wood. “The first cut’s always the easiest.” With just three more hard, fast strokes, the end of the thick branch was cleaved off into a manageable piece of firewood. “Your turn.”

  Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward and took the ax. The handle was curved slightly, comfortable to hold, but heavier than she’d expected. She shouldered it the way Cody had. He stepped up behind her and put his arms around her front, adjusting her grip slightly.

  “Like this,” he instructed softly, moving her right hand further up the handle.

  His breath was hot against her neck, and Cassie fought the urge to move her hips so there was no space between them at all, to turn her head and bring his lips crashing onto hers.

  But he stepped away, and so she refocused. She lifted the ax, looked at a spot on the wood, and brought the blade down. She was off by at least half a foot.

  “Was that where you wanted to hit it?” he asked.

  She gave him a look, lifted the ax again, stared hard at the slash mark she’d already made, and swung again, this time ending up only a few inches away.

  “Better,” he said. “Try another swing.”

  She tried again. This one was off by a foot.

  “Dammit!”

  “This is the why most Alaskans use a chainsaw,” Cody said, chuckling.

  “What?” She looked at him, incredulous. “Then what the heck am I doing this for?”

  “It’s still a skill every Alaskan should have—plus it’s fun watching you try. Here, I’ll set up this block of wood. Try splitting it down the middle. Again, look at where you’re aiming.”

  Cassie lifted the ax one more time, looked at the middle of the wood, swung down … and the ax sank deep down the middle of the log, making a satisfying crack. When she wiggled the ax to get it free, the wood split even further, and then it was two clean pieces.