“It’s all in the timing,” he said. “Flip the bail, finger on the line, release when you flick your wrist. It’s…flip, finger, flick. My instructions are either a really good tongue twister, or something you say when you’re really pissed off at someone.”
She laughed. She hoped it sounded genuine, despite her nerves. She should have never agreed to fishing. Her body pressed against his, even in this way, felt good to her. Her body fit perfectly into his like she dreamed it would.
She endeavored to keep her mind on casting, and not the feeling of Travis’ arms wrapped around her.
The swinging motion of the fishing pole didn’t seem too difficult. It was all in the timing just like he’d said. She possessed a certain amount of natural athleticism in her genes. This shouldn’t be impossible. If only his peppermint smell didn’t make her long for a taste of him, she’d do better. “Um, okay, I think I’ve got it. You can let go now.”
He stepped back. “Always look behind you and watch your lure. It’s easy to forget there’s a sharp hook on the end of your line that could take an eye out.”
At first, the motion felt clumsy to her. Releasing her hold on the fishing line at just the right moment with a flick of her wrist was a timing thing. Finally, after three or four tries, she got the hang of it.
“You’re doing great,” Travis said with a note of pride in his voice. “A fish is going to bite your hook any minute. I’m sure of it.”
She decided casting was fun even if a fish never bit her hook. “Thanks.”
“No, really. You’re doing great.” He paused. “You’re a natural.”
“It’s not much different from holding a tennis racquet.”
“Nice analogy.” His baritone chuckle dribbled across the water and over her skin. “I never would have thought to compare fishing to playing tennis.”
“The stroke is similar to my two-handed backhand.” She cast and let the hook sink beneath the water before she cranked the reel. “Not that my backhand is my best stroke, but still…Do you play tennis?”
“Come on, now, do you see me as the tennis type wearing a visor and all white clothes?”
She laughed. “I’m going to teach you how to play when we get back to civilization.”
The words slipped out before she had a chance to change them. It wasn’t as if they’d ever spend any time together outside of the office in Fairbanks, but he surprised her when he said, “We should.”
“Good. Let’s do it. And I won’t even make you wear a visor.”
“Gee, thanks.” He paused. “Sabrina plays. She’s tried to get me to try it a few times. Maybe you can play left-handed or something so I have a chance at winning. So it’s a date. What time and where? Do I need to pick you up?”
She listened to her own nervous laugh bubble out of her lips. “I’ll just meet you at the courts.”
“All right, and are you willing to play left-handed?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Can’t blame a guy for trying. What day and time?”
“My flight doesn’t leave until next weekend on Sunday. We could meet up on Friday evening.”
With cocky confidence Travis replied, “Okay, it’s a deal.”
She felt like she’d made a deal with disappointment. She knew better and yet, she’d let herself fall into some kind of hopefulness that Travis wanted to spend time with her. She admonished herself and decided she’d find a way to break the date before she left next week.
She continued to cast and reel while they talked. The rhythmic motion became more natural and relaxing. Plus, she loved keeping her hands occupied when she wanted to be touching Travis.
“You need to slow down there. A trout can’t swim that fast.”
“Oh, okay.” She stopped reeling. A quick tug yanked on her line, as if someone was pulling on it. She lifted up on the pole. The tugging continued. “I—I think I have a bite.”
“Don’t stop reeling.” Travis laughed. “Bring her in!”
She cranked on the reel. Sweat bristled on her forehead. Her inner child broke free. She wanted to squeal with glee when she saw the silvery fish plop on shore. “Oh my god, I did it.” Her breathing labored, she said, “I really caught a fish.”
Travis kneeled down beside the fish, pinning it to the ground and finagled a way to remove the hook from its mouth. “Yep, you did it. Congratulations. A nice one too. Did you bring your camera?”
“No, I didn’t bring it because I was afraid of getting it wet. Worrying about my sketchpad getting wet was bad enough.”
“That’s okay. I’m a witness to tell everyone how big it is. Actually, we could keep it. I didn’t bring an extra cooler, but if you pull our lunch out, we can use it for the fish.”
Chryssa eyed the squirming fish. “If we let him go, will he still live?”
“Absolutely.” He grinned. The brilliant blue of his eyes matched the water and sky. “Would you like to put him back in the water?”
Hesitant, she said, “Um…sure.”
“You’ll get fish slime on your hands.”
The fish wriggled on the ground. Travis pinned him by the tail. Chryssa wasn’t sure if her sudden case of nerves was because of touching a fish or just worry that it would die if she wasn’t quick enough. She stood unmoving.
Crouched over the fish, Travis gazed up at her with a wide grin. “Would you rather I put him back?”
“Would you, please?” She felt like a coward, but she really didn’t want to risk hurting the fish or getting fish slime all over her.
She watched him squat down beside the lake’s edge and place the fish back into the water. The fish swam away. Travis stood and turned to face her. “Good job. How does it feel to be an official fisherwoman now?”
“It was fun.” She smiled back at him. A sudden case of shyness came over her. “Thank you, Travis.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, warmly. “Are you ready for some lunch?”
“Yes, that would be great.”
Chryssa gazed across the frayed blue and orange afghan stretched out across the ground. A picnic lunch beside a lake and learning to fish all in the same day—she didn’t know if she’d ever had such an enjoyable afternoon.
“How’s your sandwich?” Travis asked.
“It’s perfect,” she said between bites. “Everything is perfect. I’m overwhelmed actually. And I haven’t even seen the fireweed field yet.”
“I don’t want you overwhelmed. I’ll take you there as soon as we finish eating.”
“Sounds great. Generally speaking, it should be work and then play, but it seems as though I’ve changed things around by playing before I’ve done my work. I really need to get some sketching done.”
“You sketch, I’ll fish. Everybody’s happy.”
“Some people will say physically being in a place you’re trying to capture artistically isn’t necessary, but I have to disagree. Being here will make my watercolors so much more vibrant and real.”
“I can hear the passion in your voice when you talk about your art. It’s a rare thing. I love flying too. How lucky are we to have things we really love to do? Not many people can say the same.”
“Yeah, except you get to earn a living doing what you love. You have the best of both worlds.” She bit into the last bite of her sandwich.
He looked thoughtful and Chryssa wished she could read his thoughts.
“You’re right,” he said. “I guess I can see now why you want to make the move so you can work in an art gallery and pursue what you really love.”
“Yes,” she replied. “Exactly.”
“But couldn’t you do that here? I mean, in Fairbanks?”
“There just isn’t enough of a population base in Fairbanks. The galleries here are very small and not self-supporting. I need to live in a bigger population base where my work has a chance of being seen by more people.”
“I never thought of it like that, but I’m sure you’re right.” He grew thoughtful. “I see now that yo
u have to move.”
Chryssa sensed it was time to make a retreat from this conversation. She needed to keep Travis at a comfortable distance. She was leaving, after all, and she was leaving for all the right reasons.
On her hands and knees, she put the plastic wrap from her sandwich in the cooler and reached for her bag containing her pencils and sketching pad.
Unexpectedly, Travis coiled his long fingers around her wrist. “Chryssa?”
She abruptly stopped. Their gazes locked. Her skin felt warm and tingly where he touched her. “Yes?”
“I see what you’re saying. I wasn’t listening before. Not really. I was being selfish in wanting to keep you here. Keep you in Alaska, with me.” He cleared his throat and let go of her wrist. “Keep you employed at Tundra Air.”
She swallowed and licked her lips. “Yes. It’s best for me to move on and to work in an industry I’m truly passionate about.”
He stood up beside her. “My plan to shower you with a raise, stock options, a new title…anything you wanted to keep you working for me, well, it won’t work.”
She held his gaze. Her pulse pounded in her ears. She grabbed her sketchpad and pencils. “No,” she replied. “It won’t work.”
“Well, we’re here to have a good time for the weekend. I’m determined to show you this fireweed field so you will have the best sketches for your own showing one day.”
She inhaled the scent of him: peppermint and musky woods that smelled all man. “That would be fantastic.”
CHAPTER 10
Travis rolled up the blanket, grabbed his tackle box, and a pole. “Gather up your sketching supplies and follow me.”
They walked along the lake’s edge for a quarter mile before the trail opened up to a rolling field covered with fireweed as tall as his chest.
“This is unbelievable! I’ve never seen anything like it,” Chryssa exclaimed.
“I knew you’d like it.” The joy written on her face was exactly what he’d hoped for and what she deserved.
He’d spent so much time thinking about ways to keep her working for him, instead of what was best for her. She deserved a career she loved as much as he loved his. “There’s a knoll around the corner. You can sit on the blanket and sketch all you’d like.”
“I hardly know what to say. This surpasses all my expectations. I only hope my paintings can capture a fraction of the beauty here. Some of the fireweeds are as tall as me!”
“I’ll show you where you can sit.” He led her to his promised knoll where she could view the mile-long field. He spread out the blanket. “Will this work for you?”
“It’s perfect.” She surveyed the sight in breathless awe. “How did you know this was here?”
“There was a forest fire here about four years ago. The fireweed will stop growing once the trees take over. Plus, I fish here. See that path?” He pointed to a trail in the nearby spruce trees. “I’ll be fishing down there. It’s about a half mile walk, so if you need anything, just let me know. In fact, if you yell, I’ll be able to hear you, okay?”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” She set her bag filled with supplies on the blanket.
“I’ve got a handgun in my tackle box, but if you want me to leave it with you, I will.”
“No, I’ll be fine.”
Duke bounded past them and ran at full speed through the fireweed. “Most critters won’t come around because Duke is with us. I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.” He took a few steps then turned around. “Actually, I haven’t told you a corny joke in a while.”
“Well, I can see you’re dying to tell me so, go ahead.”
“What do you call a cow that can’t produce any milk?”
“Um, I don’t know. I give up.”
He sighed. “You didn’t even try to come up with the answer.”
She shook her head. “You got me. I didn’t. But give me the punchline anyway.”
“A milk dud.”
She smiled and waved him off.
On the lakeshore, he cast and reeled. Fishing usually relaxed him, but today he was wired tight. The woman with a sketchpad in her hands had his stomach in knots.
When he’d had his arms wrapped around her teaching her to cast, it felt good. No, it felt better than good and this confused him.
He’d wanted to keep her working at Tundra Air. Everything ran smoothly with her at the helm, but then, he realized if he was being completely honest, everything had gone well with Daphne in charge as well.
Chryssa had set up a system that worked, so just about anyone could step in and take over her duties.
So why did he feel so determined to keep her?
He continued to cast and reel. He let the question sit in his mind for a while.
A tug pulled on his line. And at that exact moment he realized the answer to his question: he wanted her to stay because he wanted her in his life, not as an employee, but as something more, something much more.
That click in his chest he’d felt when she first announced her resignation, that feeling that hit again when he saw her at the going away party, and now while fishing, all that added up to only one thing and it had nothing to do with her employment.
Only now, after all this time, he finally saw the truth of it, and now it was too late.
Chryssa was moving. She was leaving Alaska.
She’d set her sights on something she really wanted and deserved, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
* * *
“THANK YOU SO MUCH, TRAVIS,” Chryssa said at the landing dock near the lodge. “I never thought fishing could be so much fun. The peace and solitude made for some excellent sketches. I have a great start on my portfolio. I might even start painting tonight.”
“I guess I should follow your lead and get to work myself. I’ve got some steps to finish repairing.” Travis unloaded the cooler and the fishing gear. Duke jumped out of the canoe and ran toward the lodge. “Are you up for four-wheeling tomorrow?”
“Four-wheeling?” Chryssa gathered her backpack and slung it over her shoulder. “Sure. To where?”
He pointed toward the mountains. “There’s a trail through that valley and a cabin beyond that. If you liked the field of fireweed, this scenery will knock your socks off.”
“Well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?” One last excursion with Travis. No, she couldn’t refuse. She’d enjoy every second of their remaining time together.
They walked back to the lodge and Chryssa returned to her room. She set up her watercolors on her miniature deck and went to work. Arranging her supplies, she noticed her calendar. In a week, she’d fly to Phoenix. Poof, her new life would begin.
Chryssa’s emotions regarding Travis battled within her; tore her one way, then the other. On one hand, they were the same feelings she’d been dealing with for the last year. On the other, she had the most profound sense that something had changed between them.
Chryssa eyed Travis repairing the deck below her. He wore a gray tee shirt with snug-fitting jeans and a tool belt slung around his waist. With the clawed end of the hammer, he removed nails from the old lumber that needed replaced. Slowly he worked his way up the staircase which consisted of about a dozen steps, removing some of the two by fours as he climbed. He worked with expert efficiency. He was a pilot, fisherman, carpenter, cooked dinner…not to mention he seemed to have a loving relationship with his family. Why wasn’t he married already? He was a terrific catch.
Determined to ignore the pounding of boards and Travis’ muscled physique, Chryssa set up her easel and watercolor paints. The sunlight interspersed with clouds made acceptable lighting. She recreated the surrounding mountains on paper. Taking her sketches of the fireweed, she added color. Her brush eased across the page, distributing water and color.
She worked on the sketches of Travis and Duke, too. While primarily a landscape artist, she savored stretching her artistic comfort zone into unfamiliar places and immersed herself into a world of colors a
nd creating.
She wasn’t sure how much time had passed before Travis called up to her. “The café downtown is open for dinner from five to seven. You hungry?”
She stood and stretched after sitting for hours, and found she was famished. All that physical activity of paddling and casting, now painting, worked up a fierce appetite. “Sure, I’ll be right down.”
She stepped back from the paintings she’d done to inspect them from a distance. Hopefully, Mrs. Cumberlidge would approve. She wanted so desperately to do her very best work and be able to display them at the gallery where she’d be working soon.
After readjusting her ponytail and applying lip gloss, she opened the door to her room and nearly ran into Travis.
“Are you ready to go?” His mischievous smile diminished her defenses.
“Ah sure, just about.” She still needed to put on her shoes.
“I saw you’ve been working. Can I see your paintings?”
No one judged her work more harshly than she did, but what if he hated her paintings? His opinion mattered to her, but she didn’t want him to see the paintings she’d done of him and Duke. “Sure. Can you hang on just one second?”
He leaned against the door frame with the confident movement of a man knowing what he wanted. “I suppose.”
“Thanks.” Smiling, she gently closed the door.
She moved the paintings of Travis and Duke to her closet and left only the landscapes on the easels. Running back to her door, she opened it. “Okay, you can come in now.”
Travis shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “I don’t think we’ve ever had a real artist stay at the lodge before.”
He stepped inside her room and eyed her up and down.
“I don’t know if I’m up to real artist standards, but I’d like to think so.” She turned on her heel. “Follow me.”
Before she had a chance to explain anything, Travis’ voice carried past her. “Sabrina will love seeing these. My mom too.” He walked closer to the paintings she had drying on both her easels. “These would look fantastic displayed downstairs in the front entryway.”
Her Alaskan Pilot: An Alaskan Hero Novel Page 8