He lifted his hand to grasp hers. After hesitating a moment, she placed her fingers in his. “Thank you, Travis.”
The way she said his name sent an unexpected ripple of pleasure through his veins. She stepped out of the plane and had to be the sexiest thing to ever set foot on a gravel bar. After staring at her for too long, he spun in a circle and waved his arm in the air. “Welcome to the Alaska most people never see.”
As if on cue, overhead, a raven squawked and flapped past them.
“Do you think we could walk back down the river and see if that moose is still there?”
He’d never thought of her as sexy before. This wasn’t like him. Her warm smile set his equilibrium a little off-balance. “Sure.”
Chryssa’s eyes sparkled in the scattered rays of sunshine. “Let me grab my camera.”
After she got her camera, he placed his hand on her elbow and guided her up the uneven shoreline. Spruce trees and rolling hills covered the banks of the river.
Glancing upward, he noticed late afternoon storm clouds rolling in.
Chryssa hobbled along the river’s shore on the uneven surface of melon-sized rocks. She wore sneakers, at least, but she needed boots to provide ankle support for hiking in this kind of terrain. “Where’d she go?”
“The sound of the plane must have scared her off. We’ve still got another hour of flying left ahead of us. Should we get going?” Now that he was certain she wasn’t airsick, they should probably get to Gold Creek. Zak wouldn’t worry if he was delayed, but Travis didn’t like the looks of those clouds.
“Okay.” She swung around and he followed her.
A movement across the river caught his eye. “The moose is back or it’s another one.”
Chryssa stopped—and twisted around. In a high-pitched whisper, she said, “Oh my God, there she is,” and pointed at the moose.
She snapped a few photos. The moose stripped bark and leaves off the willow trees. Despite the fact that he’d seen hundreds of moose eating, he never tired of it. Seeing the delight in Chryssa’s eyes made him feel good too.
A boom of thunder sounded in the distance. Towering gray clouds covered the sun and the breeze kicked up a notch. “We better get going.”
“Can I take a few more photos?”
He peered at the darkening sky, uncertain how much time they had. “No. We really need to get ahead of this storm front.”
* * *
CHRYSSA FOLLOWED Travis back to the airplane. He stepped adroitly between the jagged rocks like he’d been doing it all his life. As if he were born to it, placed on this earth to be one with the outdoors. Away from the office and in another environment, her artist’s eye peered at him with the sunlight streaming through the rainclouds. He certainly belonged here in this vast wild land. She had the sudden urge to grab her sketchpad and draw him in charcoal.
She knew better than to think about sketching Travis. She should be paying attention to the moose and drawing her instead. She hadn’t seen a moose in quite a while, and especially not this close. She’d forgotten the size and pure body mass of the largest member of the deer family. Not to mention the grace of the animal as her lips stripped the willows bare and she eyed her spectators at the same time.
Once Chryssa was seated inside, Travis helped her buckle the four different straps of her shoulder harness. The act was brief and business-like, but intimate, too. Chryssa held her breath while he made sure the belt was securely fastened.
He strapped himself in and turned the ignition. The engine flipped over with a grunting whine. The single propeller moved a half-turn. Again, Travis turned the key with the same result. “Hang on. I’ll be right back.”
Unfastening his shoulder harness and relieving himself of his headphones, he unlatched the door handle and stepped outside. Chryssa observed him grab the end of the propeller and crank it down, hard—in a clockwise direction. She gasped when the propeller sped to life.
Back inside the cab of the Cessna, he looked professional and unflustered, as if this kind of thing happened all the time. Chryssa stared in amazement at his calm demeanor as they taxied alongside the river, while she, on the other hand, thought of every possible reason why the plane didn’t start up, as it should have, the first time.
Travis was an experienced pilot, but he wasn’t a mechanic. Tundra Air hired only the best and most competent employees. She knew this better than anyone. She should resist speaking up, but she couldn’t help herself. Clearing her throat first, she spoke into the mic. “Um…should we be concerned about our little mechanical malfunction back there?”
Travis maneuvered the plane down the long gravel strip to the end where they’d touched down upon landing. “No, I’m more concerned about the storm clouds to our north—the direction we’re supposed to be going.”
Chryssa looked up at the dark clouds that hung like blue-gray towers blocking their path. “So what happens now?”
“Hang on. We’ll take off and see if we can get around this front.”
Chryssa held on as they sped off the gravel runway. Once in the air, up close, the billowing clouds looked even more ominous. Rain hit the windshield in sharp blasts. The farther they flew north, the harder the rain smacked against the Cessna.
Air buffeted the small plane from side to side. Chryssa’s fingers gripped tight to her knees, which offered her little support. The plane dipped. She clenched her teeth harder.
Travis gave her a sidelong glance. “Let’s fly west and see if we can’t get around this.”
She nodded.
“There are plenty of landing spots along the Chandalar River if this gets too rough,” Travis reassured her.
The worry she felt must have shown on her face. She knew he was a good pilot—the best. She needed to trust him, but the thought of mechanical problems and poor weather frightened her.
“By the way, did I tell you—welcome to the gateway to the Arctic? We’ve just passed the Arctic Circle. Or maybe you’ve flown this far north before, and I didn’t know about it.”
Maybe talking, anything to distract her, would ease her fears. “No. This is my first time.”
“Not many people can say they’ve traveled past the 66th parallel.” The plane dipped and rose like an amusement park roller coaster. Rain splashed against the windshield. Constant rivulets of water streamed along the sides.
“No, I don’t suppose there are.” Despite her anxiety, she pasted on a smile. Travis was so composed, not a bit ruffled. She needed to adopt his calm demeanor.
The enormous clouds pitched the small plane around at their whim. Chryssa’s stomach tossed up and down like a house salad.
“There’s an airsick bag under your seat. How are you feeling?”
“I wish I could say otherwise, but…I’m not feeling so good.”
“Why don’t we land for a bit and wait for this front to pass. The forecast didn’t show this much activity, but apparently, the forecast was wrong. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Chryssa’s stomach pitched just like the airplane. She held on tight.
He must have sensed her trepidation. “We’ll land and wait it out, okay?”
“Yes, sure, that would be good.”
“I’ll even catch us a pike or two for dinner. I’ve got a tent and everything we need to stay dry.” He grinned. “The forecast didn’t predict anything this severe, so I’m sure it will pass quickly.”
Chryssa only nodded. All she did know for sure was the phrase green around the gills had a whole new meaning to her. If she didn’t land soon, she’d be hurling the chicken salad sandwich she ate for lunch all over the cab of this plane. “Okay, let’s land. I’ve had enough of this Ferris wheel gone mad.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned as if he enjoyed this crazy ride. She supposed she needed to take comfort in his relaxed state. The weather wasn’t bad enough to make him uptight or nervous—at least outwardly. While she was far from calm, at least cautiously optimistic applied because she knew an experienced pilo
t sat beside her. It wasn’t as if she saw her life flash before her or anything that extreme.
Travis followed the twists and turns of the Chandalar River in search of an adequate landing spot. The air was smoother this close to the ground and Chryssa was grateful, although her stomach still grumbled. The rain had lightened up and wasn’t pounding with severity against the windshield any longer.
They landed on a long strip of sand alongside the river’s edge. The rain—merely misty at this level—added to the ambiance of the picturesque spot Travis had chosen. With a bluff on the opposite side of the river, flat gravel on their side, and the Brooks Range in the background, the scene could have been pulled right from the front of a postcard.
Travis pulled off his headset and turned to Chryssa. “How are you feeling?”
Chryssa scanned their surroundings and smelled the forested air. Listening to the sound of the glacial water flowing over the rocks sounded like music. “My stomach is in knots, but how can anyone feel too badly in a place like this?”
Travis unbuckled and pulled a jacket from the back seat. He stepped outside. Duke bounded past him and took off down the riverbank. Travis shrugged a camouflage raincoat over his shoulders.
Chryssa willed her stomach to settle.
Raindrops slid down Travis’ face. “Did you bring a raincoat?”
“Yes, I brought every kind of outdoor gear known to mankind.”
He zipped up his rain slicker. “Perfect. I’ll grab your bag from the back.”
“Thank you.”
He moved toward the back of the plane and she heard the rumblings of luggage being moved around. He placed her bag on the adjacent front seat. Unzipping it, she retrieved her rain jacket.
“I’ll set up the tent, so you have a dry place to sit other than the plane.”
A tent? Were they staying here for a while? The idea of being with Travis in a rain storm in the middle of nowhere didn’t thrill her—not one bit. What was she thinking to agree to this trip anyway?
She crawled out of the plane and slipped on her rain coat.
Fine. She’d have to make the best of it. Gathering her sketchbook, she got to work.
CHAPTER 6
Travis finished pounding the last of the tent stakes into the ground with a fist-sized rock. The light dusting of rain subsided and rays of sunshine scattered through patches of clouds. It figured that the sun would show up right after he finished setting up the tent. At least they didn’t have to worry about it getting dark in July.
He glanced sideways and snuck a peek at Chryssa with her sketchpad. Standing under the shelter of the Cessna’s wing, she drew with a pencil in broad sweeping strokes, perhaps sketching the mountains or the clouds.
She didn’t seem to mind the delay, but she knew better than most people that flight plans can change at a moment’s notice. The forecast was usually accurate, but not always. Summer was Tundra Air’s busiest season because of the tourists.
After setting up two camp chairs near the entrance of the tent, he glanced at Chryssa. She looked at peace, joyful even, with a sketchbook in her hands. The rain had completely stopped. That is the way of it, he supposed. Take an umbrella with you, it won’t rain, but forget it and it’s a downpour. The same theory went for tents and establishing a place to get dry.
He called out to her. “It stopped raining. You can come out from under the wing, if you want.”
She’d been so engrossed in her work, she nearly jumped. She made a few more strokes with her pencil before glancing up. “Oh, great.”
“I was thinking I could build a fire. I’ll catch a couple fish and we can eat pike for dinner.”
She stared at him blankly.
“Is that okay, with you?” he asked.
She nodded. “Um…sure, yeah.”
He walked past the plane to gather driftwood for a campfire. He wasn’t sure why she was so hesitant. They’d had many late-night dinners together when Tundra Air first got started. This time they’d be in the wilderness, alongside a river, the best kind a dinner to have. But what if she was acting hesitant because she thought he’d be wanting her to cook dinner? That wasn’t his intention at all.
With an armful of fallen tree branches, he walked past her and threw the spindly pieces on the ground beside the tent. He held up his hand as if to emphasis his point. “I’ll cook dinner for us. You just keep sketching.”
She didn’t look up. Completely engrossed in what she was doing, she didn’t even seem to notice that he said something. Interesting. He’d learned something new about Chryssa. He saw not only the right-hand woman of his company, but an artist.
An artist who appeared to really love what she was doing.
He was used to having her full attention. This was different. “I’ll make you the best meal you’ve ever had,” he said.
Finally, she glanced up from her sketchpad to nod in his direction. “You seem pretty confident about that.”
“Yep.” He nodded back. “I’ll get this fire started, then I’ll catch us some fish. As long as Duke stays out of the river.”
She swatted at a mosquito near her arm. “Why does Duke need to stay out of the river?”
“So he doesn’t scare the fish away. There’s bug dope under the front seat. If you want to put some on, it will help,” he told her.
“Okay.” She opened the Cessna’s door and retrieved the insecticide. After applying the greasy liquid on her arms, she went back to sketching.
Travis made several trips past her gathering kindling branches for the fire. Then he took lighter fluid out of the cargo hold. “Come, sit down. I’ll start the fire. You can draw over here, if you’d like.”
“All right.” She followed him.
He peeked over her shoulder to see what she’d sketched, but she snatched the top flap closed. He wondered if she was one of those artist types who didn’t like anyone to see her work until it was perfected. Heck, what did he know about artist types anyway? They fit into the same category as smart girls, near as he could tell.
He started the fire. Chryssa sat in the nylon camp chair, holding her notebook in her lap. After attaching a spinner to his line and pulling on his hip-waders, he retrieved his pole and ambled to the river’s edge. He scanned the river looking for an eddy where pike might gather and found a current that looked promising. Casting his line, he reeled in a steady tempo.
He gazed back over his shoulder at Chryssa with her sketchpad in her lap. He’d never seen her like this, hard at work drawing, the majestic Brooks Range in the background. He felt a twinge of something in his gut. Odd, he thought. Then again, he was in the wilds of Alaska, far away from the bustle of a busy life with deadlines and commitments. This was the Alaska he loved the most. And, he had to admit, he was happy to be sharing this moment with Chryssa. Even if she was absorbed in drawing, he liked the quiet companionable silence between them with only the rushing sound of the river as background noise.
Concentrating on the fishing reel in his hand, he felt a tug and jerked the pole handle to set the hook. He smiled at his success. “I got one.”
“That’s great,” Chryssa said.
He unhooked the pike and set it on the rocky shoreline. He cast out his line. “One more and I’ll get dinner started.”
“I never doubted you, Travis.” Her voice sounded from behind him.
Something shifted between them. He didn’t understand it. He couldn’t name it, but whatever it was, it concerned him. Whatever this weekend at the lodge entailed, he felt uncertain about his future for the first time. He’d meticulously planned building his business, assisting with the family lodge, but now, his longtime assistant and confidant was leaving the state. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit.
* * *
CHRYSSA STUDIED THE MUSCLES OF TRAVIS’ back through his muted green t-shirt as he cast and reeled, cast and reeled, in a fluid motion he appeared born to do. Never in a million years could she have predicted that hip-waders would look so appealing on
a man. But on Travis Forrester, many things would be considered sexy.
Delight shone on his face when he caught his pike—pure boyish pleasure. No doubt, no matter what his age, catching a fish held the same joy for man or boy. She always got fish at the grocery store, which wasn’t normal for Alaskans, but she didn’t know how to fish. She didn’t say that too loudly, because most Alaskans would think she was weird, but she’d never been taught or given the opportunity. She wasn’t that outdoorsy, not really. But in her opinion, just living in Alaska made her more outdoorsy than most of the female population.
Besides a few mosquitoes, life in the arctic wilderness wasn’t bad, and with a capable man like Travis around, she had no reason to worry. The bathroom facilities did leave a little to be desired. Hopefully, she could sneak into the trees to use the facilities without bringing attention to herself. Setting her sketchpad on her chair, she searched her purse for a tissue then edged her way in what she hoped was a graceful exit behind the plane into a grouping of spruce trees.
“Don’t go far,” Travis called out.
Chryssa popped her head out from behind the plane. So much for graceful. “I won’t. Just going to the little girl’s room, if that’s okay?”
“That’s fine.” He grinned at her between casting his line and turning the crank of his fishing reel.
So embarrassing. She rolled her eyes and marched toward the patch of spruce trees she’d spotted.
Returning to camp, Chryssa watched Travis clean the two pike he’d caught. They didn’t look very appetizing, but she was determined to have an open mind. He opened a package of spices and sprinkled the insides of the fish. Then he rolled them up in aluminum foil and placed them alongside the fire.
“You travel with spices?” she inquired, a bit perplexed.
Travis sat in the nylon chair across the fire from her. “You never know when you might not make your destination.” Peeling his hip-waders off his legs one at a time, he gazed at her. “I always travel prepared. Hence, tent, gun, sleeping bags… Always be prepared.”
Her Alaskan Pilot: An Alaskan Hero Novel Page 4