Copper Creek: A Sawyer's Ferry Novel

by Cate Ashwood

  Any other day I would have, but we really didn’t have time.

  “Even if I told you, it’s not like you would recognize the name.”

  “Right. Then tell me anyway.”

  “You’ll see when we get there.” I shoved him off me and got off the bed. Grabbing his hands, I pulled him to his feet, kissing him soundly, then turned him and pushed him toward the bathroom. “Get a move on. I promise, you’ll like it. And don’t forget your camera.”

  I’d allotted more time than usual to allow Frankie a chance to get ready at his own pace. I’d learned quickly it wasn’t a matter of hopping in the shower and throwing on some clothes for him. His morning routine was the most involved I’d ever seen, but I had to admit the finished result was worth it.

  He was always beautiful, even with bed head and morning breath, but when he was dressed and his hair was perfectly styled, wearing just a hint of eyeliner and lip gloss, his demeanor changed. He stood up taller, his back straighter, and there was a fluidity to the way he moved.

  I liked seeing that transformation, from a subdued, relaxed brat, to a ready-to-take-on-the-world pain in the ass.

  “Ready,” he said, stepping out of the bathroom like he was stepping onto a runway.

  I looked him up and down before walking over and pulling him to me, one arm wrapped around his waist. He lifted his head, and I dropped a kiss on his lips.

  I didn’t think I’d ever get enough of kissing him. His lips were so fucking soft, and even the most chaste press of his mouth to mine made me want to strip him naked and explore every inch of his body.

  Like now.

  I kissed him again, a little harder this time, and for the briefest of moments, he kissed me back, then pulled away. “Didn’t you say we had to go?”

  I groaned. “Unfortunately.” Stealing one last kiss, I loosened my hold on him. “Let’s go.”

  With Frankie perched in the seat next to me, the morning deliveries flew by. I liked having him with me, chattering away about whatever crossed his mind, no matter how crazy or obscure. Half the time I couldn’t even follow what he was saying, with all the random pop culture references thrown in.

  At least, I thought they were pop culture references. I really had no clue.

  “You gonna tell me where we’re going yet?”

  “One more delivery, and then you’ll see.”

  “Gimme a hint, at least,” he begged.

  I thought for a minute. “It has glory holes.”

  Frankie’s mouth dropped open. “I know you’re not a city boy and well-versed in the world of romance with another guy, but pro tip here… a date at a truck stop with glory holes is not romantic, and probably a good way to get hepatitis.”

  I laughed. “Better turn around and head for home, then.”

  Two blocks later, parking outside the Bear Creek Tavern, I was still laughing.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said, grabbing the packing slip and climbing out of the truck.

  “I might not be here,” Frankie called after me. “Gonna head inside and find a nice burly lumberjack who knows how to treat a man right.”

  I popped my head through the open window of the driver’s side. “Good luck with that.”

  Just as I’d finished speaking, a huge guy wearing roughed-up jeans and a red plaid shirt walked by. He looked like he was heading to a lumberjack-of-the-month calendar photoshoot. The only thing he was missing from the whole ensemble was an ax.

  Frankie glared at me. “Ask and ye shall receive.” He rolled down his window. “Excuse me, sir. Do you know how to treat a man right?”

  I turned to Paul Bunyan. “Ignore him. He’s a pain in the ass.”

  Paul didn’t seem amused. He didn’t reply, just trudged into the pub. I switched my attention back to Frankie. “Behave. I’ll be back in a sec.”

  It looked like there was going to be some snarky comeback in my future, so I walked away before he could deliver it.

  Secretly, I didn’t mind so much that he was a pain in the ass. It kept me on my toes, kept things interesting. Life was going to be a lot more dull once Frankie left town.

  My heart sank a little thinking about it.

  “Now are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Frankie asked for the hundred thousand and sixteenth time. In fact, he’d asked at pretty much every intersection from one side of Juneau to the other.

  Patience was not his strongest suit.

  “You are incapable of waiting for anything, aren’t you?”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing. If I’d waited around for you to man up and make a move, we’d still be awkwardly dancing around each other.” He inspected his nail polish, frowning at his thumbnail. “Lucky for you, I took some initiative and sucked some sense into you.”

  “Okay. Fair. But instant gratification isn’t everything.”

  Frankie scoffed. “Did you sniff some glue while you were in that last place? Life would be so much better if I never had to wait for anything.”

  “You’re in luck today. We’re here.”

  “Fucking finally,” Frankie said, looking around. “Where is here, exactly?”

  “It’s called Treadwell. It used to be a gold mine, but there was this huge collapse and now it’s a historic site and park.”

  “So, I can get some culture and education and an anonymous blowjob in the bathroom?”

  “Only if you ask nicely.” I clicked the button to release his seat belt. “Let’s go explore a bit.”

  Frankie grabbed his camera and climbed out of the truck, then followed me into the woods along the path. There were placards with information on the booming mining operation that was now being reclaimed by the forest.

  It might have been a little creepy if people had died in the collapse, but everyone had apparently made it out safely. Still, the remaining structures looked like corpses, some in better shape than others, and yet somehow beautiful. The click of Frankie’s camera as we made our way along the path was almost constant.

  “Hang on,” he said as we stood in front of one of the decaying buildings.

  I watched as he took shot after shot of the stone, eroded away after almost a hundred years of abandonment. The vines and moss that covered the once carefully placed bricks. He contorted himself into weird positions, crouching low to the ground and climbing up on boulders for better angles. More than once, he turned his lens toward me and snapped a couple of pictures.

  Over the next two hours, we explored the ruins of the abandoned town. Frankie must have all but filled up the memory card on his camera, because I think he probably took three thousand photos.

  I couldn’t stop staring at him.

  In the quiet of the forest, with nothing but wild Alaska all around me… that was when I realized this thing… whatever it was we were doing, had become more than just a convenient hookup.

  I cared about him.

  I swallowed the knot of panic in my throat because it was going to be fine.

  Everything was fine.

  Nothing had changed. Not really, anyway. The relationship was temporary. Frankie was leaving. It was fun while he was around, and then once he boarded that plane, it was back to business—literally. I could concentrate on Copper Creek and put Frankie Bell out of my mind.

  Until then, I refused to look at anything too seriously.

  What was the point? I’d work myself up, and it wouldn’t change anything.

  We finally circled back around to where we’d started from, the Copper Creek truck parked right where we’d left it.

  “This was amazing,” Frankie said, with more sincerity than I’d ever heard from him. “Thank you for bringing me.”

  “You had any doubt you’d have a good time?”

  “You brought me to nature.”

  I chuckled. “You have so little faith in me.”

  He held his arms out. “Do I look like the type of person who would enjoy hiking?”

  “But you did,” I pointed out.

  “I di
d.”

  “And we’re not done yet.”

  “There’s more hiking?” He sounded awfully disappointed for someone who just admitted they had a good time.

  “Not hiking. One more place to go today.”

  “If you tell me it’s a surprise, I’m going to strangle you with your tighty-whities.”

  I put my hands up in mock surrender. “Fine. You win. I’ll tell you where we’re going.”

  He leaned in closer, like I was about to spill state secrets and he didn’t want to miss a single detail.

  “Our hotel has a spa—”

  “Marry me.”

  Frankie

  It had just slipped out, and for a fraction of a second, I was worried Barrett was going to think I was serious. There was a part of me that was still sort of walking on eggshells around him, waiting for him to freak out about being with a man. I’d had enough experience with closeted guys to know that they didn’t all make a smooth transition out into the daylight. Some of them retreated back and shut the door tight.

  I didn’t think that was Barrett, but hell, who knew? I’d really only known him for a month and a half. There was still a lot about him I had yet to figure out.

  But when he laughed and ruffled my perfectly style curls, I relaxed a little.

  “You wouldn’t tease me about something like that, right?” I batted his hand away.

  He shook his head. “I figured after hours of trudging through the woods, a little pampering might be in order.”

  “You ever been to a spa?”

  “Nope. First time. You’re shaping up to pop my cherry on a whole list of things.”

  “So far, stealing your virginity has been a hell of a lot of fun,” I said, practically giddy at the prospect of a facial. “Let me know if there’s anything else on the itinerary. I want to be properly prepared.”

  It had been over a year since I’d had the luxury of treating myself. Money had been so tight there was no way I could have afforded a high-end treatment. If I could have teleported us back to the hotel right that moment, I would have.

  “Are you just going to stand there all day, or are we going to go get rubbed and scrubbed?” I asked, tapping my toe exaggeratedly.

  “Our appointment isn’t until 4:30.”

  “I need time to wash the wilderness off me. No one likes that smell.”

  Barrett laughed again. “Actually, I think most people like that smell.”

  “It’s lies like that that propagate the messed-up idea that the outdoors, with its bugs and creepy creatures and dirt and wrinkle-generating UV rays, is better than indoors with comfy seating and climate control.”

  “Get in the truck, Frankie.”

  “Happily, boss.”

  As we walked from our room to the spa, I squashed the urge to sprint there. I could almost smell the eucalyptus before we’d even gotten off the elevator, as though I’d summoned the scent with only the power of my deep desperation for indulgence.

  When we found it, the gentle light spilling through the panes of frosted glass, Barrett held the door open for me. Soft music played and the scent in the air was lavender rather than eucalyptus, but it was everything I’d hoped it would be.

  Bright white with hints of pale sage, the whole room felt clean and crisp and relaxing.

  “Welcome to Stillwater Spa. How can we help you?” the woman behind the desk asked.

  She was wearing white scrubs with the spa’s logo embroidered on the chest, her hair swept up into a smooth topknot and her skin absolutely fucking glowing.

  “I want skin like yours,” I said, without an ounce of disingenuousness.

  Barrett shot me a look. “We have 4:30 appointments.”

  “Of course.” She consulted her computer. “Mr. Anderson and Mr. Bell.”

  “That’s us.”

  “And I see you’ve booked our Denali package.”

  “That’s right,” Barrett said.

  “Were you wanting to have your treatments together or separately?”

  I held my breath and let Barrett answer.

  “Together, please.”

  “Of course,” she repeated without batting an eye. “Right this way.”

  She led us past the desk, down a long hallway with framed photos of stacked rocks and waterfalls, to a change room. Wooden slatted benches created a square in the center of the room, and there were wide lockers on one side. The opposite side was a wall of shower stalls.

  “Have either of you visited Stillwater before?”

  Barrett and I both shook our heads.

  “Well, we are so happy you’re here today. The Denali package is one of our most popular. We offer treatments that are unique to this region.”

  Finally, an Alaskan-themed thing I could get behind.

  “If you’d like to shower first, you may. You’ll find robes and slippers in the lockers, and you can leave your clothes in there for the duration of your visit. Can I get either of you any infused water or tea?”

  “No, none for me, thanks,” Barrett said.

  “No, thank you.”

  “All right. Anastazja and Ottilie will fetch you from the steam room, so once you’re done getting undressed, you can go through that door there”—she gestured—“and enjoy our rose water steam while you wait for your full-body exfoliation.”

  She glided out of the room, and Barrett waited for the door to close tight before he started to strip. I watched him with quiet appreciation as he revealed each inch of his body. Fuck, he was gorgeous. I stripped down too, and within a couple of minutes, we were wrapped in the same terry cloth our room robes were made of. I’d never felt anything softer.

  I pulled it tighter around me, rubbing it against my cheek as I walked beside Barrett. “I’m keeping this robe forever. It’s mine. If they want it back, they’re going to have to tear it off me.”

  “I’ll testify on your behalf at your arraignment.”

  “So sweet of you.”

  We stepped into the rose water room, and I took a deep breath. I could definitely get used to this.

  “It’s not that hot in here,” Barrett noted, sounding surprised.

  “No, it’s perfect.”

  I took a seat next to him on a bench that matched the ones in the change room.

  “I expected to walk outta here with a sweaty nut sack. Would’ve made for an awkward full-body exfoliation.”

  “They’re not gonna exfoliate your balls.”

  I could see Barrett’s faux shocked expression through the mist.

  “That’s false advertising. I demand a refund.”

  I moved, coming to sit in his lap rather than on the bench next to him. “I can make it up to your balls later,” I said. “But all joking aside, thank you for this. I don’t know how you knew I needed it, but I did, and I can’t even think of the right words to tell you how much I love this.”

  Barrett put his arms around me, holding me close to him before pressing his mouth to mine.

  The combination of the taste of Barrett’s mouth and the gentle scent of rose water instantly became my new favorite.

  I kissed him, slipping my tongue against his and threading my fingers into his hair. It was languid and relaxed; there was nothing urgent at all about the way he kissed me, and as he did, I fell more and more under his spell.

  All too soon, Barrett slid his hands around my waist and lifted me off his lap, depositing me back onto the bench next to him.

  “They might not care about sweaty testicles, but they might mind me tenting the fucking bathrobe all day with my raging erection.”

  “You know, if you’re quick, I could probably take care of—”

  “Mr. Anderson and Mr. Bell? I’m Anastazja. Are you ready for your exfoliation?”

  “Son of a bitch,” Barrett murmured, low enough that only I heard him.

  “Not quick enough,” I whispered back. “We’re ready.”

  “Come on in,” she said.

  We followed her down another hallway with similar a
rtwork to the first one we’d walked, all the way to a room near the end. In the center, there were two tables covered with white linens and plush white towels. To the side, there was a tub that reminded me a little of an oversized Jacuzzi, larger than the one in our room but still cozy. Behind it was an entire wall of windows that overlooked the water, and the view of the Alaskan wilderness was incredible.

  She introduced us to Ottilie, who’d be working on me, and let us know we’d be in that room for the duration of our spa experience.

  “Your treatments include a full-body exfoliation using our Alaskan pumice and sea salt scrub, followed by a bath of Alaskan glacial mud.”

  “We’re going to sit in mud?”

  “Forgive him. I’m still training the backwoods out of him,” I said, and Barrett shot me a look.

  “It’s excellent for your skin. The mud contains more than fifty minerals which aid in cell regeneration, so you’ll leave with younger, healthier-looking skin.”

  “Cannot wait.” I literally could not. I was ready to dive into that vat of mud, to soak away the year of anxiety and hopefully erase some of the stress wrinkles from my face. I was too young for crow’s feet and forehead creases.

  “When you’re done with the mud, you’ll be able to gaze out over the Alaskan shoreline while you soak in a luxurious tub, filled with warm salt water and organically sourced seaweed, followed by a full-body massage.”

  This sealed the deal. I’d already pledged never to leave the hotel, and now I was more sure than ever. This was my new haven. “That all sounds incredible.”

  “Last but not least, a sixty-minute facial with a scalp massage and an optional hair-conditioning treatment.”

  “Does anyone not get the hair conditioning treatment?” Surely no one out there was stupid enough not to.

  “You’d be surprised,” she said. “We’ll let you get comfortable on the beds, and Otti and I will be back soon,” she said.

  Every last dead skin cell had been scrubbed from my body, carefully buffed away with the help of the best-smelling pumice and sea salt combination I’d ever experienced. Barrett had been remarkably silent as the tiny woman working on him scoured away his callouses.