Wild At Heart: A Novel

by Tucker, K. A.

  I give him my cheek.

  It might be the first time I’ve ever done that.

  Finally, he seems to get the message. “Is something wrong?”

  “Seriously?” I meet his blue eyes, his furrowed brow. Is he that oblivious? “You were supposed to be home at five.”

  “I got hung up talkin’ to Bo Sterling and ended up givin’ him a ride to Talkeetna. It was on the way.”

  “And you didn’t think to call me?”

  “I did call you. When I landed in Unalakleet. Remember? I stayed on the line with you for almost ten minutes while you walked home?”

  “Jonah! I was two seconds away from calling the state troopers and reporting you missing!” My voice cracks.

  “Oh, come on.” He groans, pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re overreacting—”

  “I am not overreacting, and you know it! The first day you’re out there with me in the office and you were an hour and a half late!” Angry tears escape, hot as they roll along my skin. “You have an itinerary to follow and a satellite phone to call me with if you change plans. It’s that simple! And it’s the only way I know something hasn’t happened to you.” I brush my palm against my cheek, annoyed with myself that I couldn’t keep my emotions in check. “I don’t have a network of people to reach out to and track you down. I had to call Agnes!”

  She’s the first person I called, when the minutes kept passing with no sign or word from him and I wasn’t sure if I should be worried. She told me to sit tight while she made a few calls and was able to confirm that Jonah had left the airstrip in Unalakleet an hour later than he was supposed to, with this guy Bo. That led her to calling a pilot at the Talkeetna airport—because she knows Bo and knows that’s where he’s from—and confirming that Jonah landed there.

  But I don’t know Bo. I don’t know anyone who works at the Unalakleet airport or any pilots who might have been in Talkeetna at the same time as Jonah. All I know is that Jonah was supposed to be here by five o’clock and he wasn’t, and he didn’t call to tell me otherwise.

  “You might have gotten away with doing this kind of stuff back when you were flying for my dad, but it’s just you and me out here, and just me when you’re gone, and I don’t know who to call or how to check up on you, and I can’t be calling Agnes to track you down every time you don’t show up when you’re supposed to. I can’t be sitting here wondering if I should be worried, if I should be phoning someone, or doing something. Wondering if you’re sitting in a pile of metal somewhere in the snow!” The berating words tumble out of me. “You know better than to change plans without calling it in!” He said as much, that day we left the safety cabin and went on a run to find the missing hikers. He knew my father and Agnes would be unhappy with him, but he did it anyway.

  Now, as the person sitting by the phone, waiting for news from him—as the only person keeping track of his comings and goings—I appreciate what an asshole he is when he does it.

  Jonah grits his jaw, and I hold my breath, expecting him to double down on why he’s right and I’m wrong. “I’m sorry. I lost track of time.”

  His words instantly deflate some of my anger. An unexpected wave of relief washes over me as he drops into the other desk chair, wheeling closer to me. “Look at me, Calla.”

  I meet his sincere light blue eyes.

  “I’m fine—”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “I know it’s not.” He collects my hands in his. “Bo and I got to talking. He runs a hiking expedition company. He wanted to know if I’d be interested in doing some runs for him this summer, getting people in and out of Ruth Glacier. His usual pilot is out with health problems and he heard I was doin’ my own thing. We go way back.”

  “You go ‘way back’ with half of Alaska,” I mutter.

  “What can I say? I got excited. Bo’s a great guy and he’s nearby. It’s income for the summer.” He sighs. “I’ve been stressing about having enough business to bring in decent money.”

  “Really?” He hasn’t mentioned it once, hasn’t even hinted. “But, Jonah, you’re going to do fine. Everyone loves you.”

  “They can love me all they want. Until we see steady work coming in, it doesn’t mean anything. Keepin’ these planes in the air is expensive, and I feel like I’ve been burning through savings faster than I expected to.”

  “Well, yeah. We just bought this house.”

  “I know. And I know there are a lot of expenses that come with that—new windows, a better bathroom, furniture. It’s all money. And now there’s a ton of things I have to worry about with the company that I didn’t have to while I was working for Wren. I mean, I worried, but none of it was ever coming out of my pocket. It’s just … a lot for me to get used to, and sometimes I wonder if I dragged you all the way out here to watch me fail.”

  I notice how his shoulders sag with those frank words—either from the relief of finally admitting his worries to me, or from the weight of them. Either way, it’s the first time he’s openly wavered about The Yeti or about buying Phil’s place. It’s the first time he’s shown anything other than steadfast confidence in his plan.

  He bows his head. “Anyway, I got so wrapped up in Bo and the opportunity, I lost track of time. That was shitty of me and I’m sorry. It’s not fair to you, and I’ll try my best not to do it again.”

  Silence lingers in our tiny office with a prime view of the frozen lake and the mountain range beyond as I decide what to say, how to appease his worries. Anxious Jonah leaves me disconcerted. He’s the steady, level-headed one in this relationship.

  “First of all, you didn’t drag me out here. I came because I wanted to. And if The Yeti fails, then we fail, because we’re in this together. You and me. But we’re not going to fail.” I give his hands a squeeze. “Remember, I owe you half of what this place costs. You’ll see that money soon. And when my inheritance comes in, I can cover us for—”

  “No.” He shakes his head firmly. “I told you already, that’s your money. Wren didn’t leave it for you to support my ass. Besides, he’s already left me more than enough.”

  I give him a flat look. “You’re being pigheaded.”

  “Maybe, but I don’t care. I need to know that I can support us. That’s important to me. If I can’t make this work with what Wren gave me, then maybe I shouldn’t be doin’ it.” He picks up a pen and then tosses it.

  “You should be doing it.” I believe that to my core. I’ve seen Jonah at Wild, and out flying around Alaska, helping people. If Jonah belongs anywhere, it’s in the air.

  But I also know that part of this is about ingrained male pride that makes Jonah who he is. Pointing out that I could probably support us for decades on what my father left me won’t aid my cause here.

  I reach for a pad and pen. “What’s Bo’s company’s name?”

  “Alaska Expeditions.” He pauses. “Why?”

  I jot it down. “I’m going to have to call him and get all his information, so we can properly invoice him. And I also need information about this doctor from Unalakleet so I can add it to the books. You can’t just come in and drop wads of cash on my desk at the end of the day. That’s not how you run a legitimate business.”

  Jonah lays his hand over mine, stalling my scribbles. “I’m sorry.”

  I swallow the last of my anger. “You’re going to do fine, Jonah. You’re not going to fail. I don’t think you’re capable of that.”

  He brushes strands of hair off my forehead. “And you can’t live every day thinking I’m going to crash, Calla. It’ll drive you crazy.”

  “I know.” It’s what drove my mother crazy, and a big part of what made her run in the end. “I guess it’ll take time, to get used to this.”

  “I didn’t help today, did I?”

  I shoot him a glare, but there’s no heat behind it.

  He chuckles as he presses a kiss against my lips. “Any more animals hunt you down after we talked?”

  “Still not funny,”
I warn. “By the way, Zeke got out. Bandit must have figured out how to unfasten the latch.”

  He shakes his head. “The little shit. I’ll have to add something to stop him.”

  “Yeah, good luck with that.” Tim and Sid, my mom and Simon’s resident raccoons, have gotten into the secured compost bins too many times for me to believe there’s anything that can keep a determined raccoon out. Or, in this case, in.

  “So …” Jonah’s hands smooth over my thighs with affection. “How did you escape today’s goat attack? It must have been a harrowing ordeal?”

  I’m smiling now. “Shut up.”

  He pulls me onto his lap. “You know, I’m not used to being lectured by anyone, especially not a Fletcher.” His lips are cool as they graze my collarbone, sending shivers through my body. “Coming from you, it’s kind of hot.”

  I revel in the feel of Jonah’s arms around me, my anger with him having vanished in mere minutes, as if it never existed. How ironic it is that there used to be a time when not wanting to throttle Jonah felt foreign. Now, holding even a shred of animosity toward him throws my entire world off-kilter.

  “Find another way to get turned on,” I say.

  “I know of a good one. It works every time.” His icy hand slips beneath my sweater, making me shriek.

  “Oh my God, stop! You’re freezing!” I cackle as I fight to wriggle free. But Jonah holds tight, grinning as his fingers coast over the small of my back and slide up my spine to unfasten my bra.

  His phone rings then, and Agnes’s name flashes across the screen.

  “You need to answer that.”

  He groans. “No, I don’t. She’s gonna yell at me.”

  “Agnes, yell?” The woman is the most docile person I’ve ever met. I don’t think she’s capable of showing anger. I’ve certainly never seen it.

  “In her own way.” His palm weasels beneath my bra to cup my breast, his hand still a cold shock but less so than it was a moment ago.

  “Too bad. Time to pay the piper.” I grab his phone before he can stop me and, hitting Accept, hold it to his ear.

  He glares at me. “Hey, Aggie … yup … uh-huh … I know …” His hand falls from beneath my shirt—the moment temporarily doused—and, collecting the phone from me, urges me off his lap. With a playful swat against my ass, he heads up the stairs.

  And I breathe a sigh of relief that everything between Jonah and me is back to normal.

  I take a few minutes to finish the post I was working on for Calla & Dee—about Zeke and my disturbing, possibly imaginary, animal experience from earlier—and then save and close.

  On a hunch, I open The Yeti’s in-box, to see an unread email sitting at the top. When I see the subject line, I click through, scanning the details.

  And let out a little shriek at the details of our first official website booking.

  Chapter Fifteen

  April

  “All right, Miss Fletcher, turn right up here.” The brunette woman shrewdly watches from over the frame of her bifocals, clipboard in hand, pen poised to strike her checklist, as I flick the signal switch and navigate our battered old truck down a side street in Wasilla.

  When I woke up this morning—the day of my road test—and saw the plump snowflakes falling and the fresh layer of snow that had landed overnight, I panicked. But the plows have already been out to clear and sand the streets. Fifteen minutes into the test and, so far, I haven’t slid through any stop signs or otherwise screwed up.

  “See that Ford ahead?” She points at the green pickup truck parked on the side of the street, at the end of a driveway. “I’d like you to parallel park behind it.”

  “Okay.” I say a silent prayer of thanks. She’s kind—she’s chosen a quiet street and a car with nothing behind it. I sidle up beside the truck, checking my rearview mirror. It’s early in the day; no one is behind me.

  I give the steering wheel of this big old beast a tight squeeze to calm my nerves. Why couldn’t Phil have left us a small sedan? Taking a deep breath, I check my mirrors again and, shifting the truck into reverse, I begin backing up.

  A flash of movement in my side-view mirror catches my eye before the truck suddenly jolts.

  * * *

  “How was that my fault?” I stare at the failed test form in my hand, close to tears.

  “You can’t hit anything during a road test. It’s an automatic fail.” Jonah lifts his baseball cap off his head, only to smooth his hair out and put it back on. “How did you not see a moose?”

  “It came out of nowhere!” I burst.

  His hands go up in a sign of surrender. “Whoa … Okay. I’m just tryin’ to understand how it happened,” he says.

  “I don’t know how it happened! She told me to parallel park behind that truck. There was a driveway and this big hedge, and a tree …,” I sputter, trying to rationalize how a full-grown bull moose managed to make its way down the driveway and into the path of my reversing truck, without me spotting it first. “I was nervous, and I was looking for cars on the road, not moose?”

  “Fair enough,” Jonah says, but I sense he doesn’t buy that.

  “The tester didn’t see it, either.” A thought strikes me. “Unless maybe she did? Is this how they test drivers in Alaska? Do they put moose around town and get them to ambush you as part of the road test?”

  Jonah chuckles and collects my hand in his. He gives it a squeeze. “No, babe. It was just a crazy fluke.”

  “Why did it have to happen to me?” I was ready. Jonah and I have been out every day practicing since I got my test date. Now I’m a twenty-six-year-old who failed her driver’s test because she backed into a damn moose! I’ll bet this has never happened in the history of road tests! I’ll bet the people working at the licensing office are having a field day with this. Beyond my anger and disappointment, I’m embarrassed.

  He starts the engine. “At least you were goin’ slow. No one got hurt.” The right taillight on Phil’s truck is cracked, but the moose walked away. Literally. “It’s no big deal. People fail their road tests all the time. You can rebook in a week and try it again.”

  And what if I fail again?

  How much longer am I going to be stranded at our house, relying on snowy ditches to get around town in a snow machine while Jonah’s working?

  Jonah pulls out of the parking lot.

  “Don’t tell anyone. Please.”

  “Won’t say a word.”

  “And don’t you dare ever tease me about this,” I warn in a severe tone.

  The corners of his mouth twitch. “I would never.”

  Right.

  He reaches over to rest his palm on my thigh. “Don’t worry, you’ll laugh about it one day.”

  “I have a lot of laughing to do later on in life,” I mutter.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Mark Sheppard said he’s been keeping Jonah busy.”

  “Mark Sheppard, John McGee, Nathan Mineault … Jonah’s been flying somewhere almost every day that the weather cooperates.” I rotate a cream crockery pot to check the price. And while he’s been flying, I’ve been slowly building a list of contacts all over Alaska, for business but also in case he forgets to call me and goes off course again. So far, he has kept his word.

  “I figured he would be. He knows a lot of people. I get someone coming into Aro every single day, asking about him.”

  I can hear the smile in Agnes’s voice. She sounds like a proud mother. “I can’t believe he was so worried. We’ve had a few bookings through the website already, too. He’s taking a travel journalist around to a bunch of places next week. And a film-scout crew wants to book him for a solid week in early May.” It’s a good thing the days are getting long—the sun crept over the horizon at six today and it won’t dip past it until ten tonight—because he’ll need all the daylight he can get. It also means less time with him for me, when I can’t tag along.

  I try to keep myself busy on those days.

  “So, what are you up to tod
ay?” she asks.

  “I’m going to bake Jonah a chocolate cake for his birthday, even though he’s refusing to take the day off.”

  “I’ve never been able to get him to celebrate his birthday,” she confirms.

  “So I’m learning. I have two days to convince him.” I put the crockery pot back on the shelf—it has a noticeable chip in the lip. “And I’m doing a little shopping. Figured I’d check out this thrift shop in town.” A double-wide trailer dropped in a barren parking lot about ten minutes from our house. With Jonah gone, I’m limited with how far I can venture unless I want to spend an exorbitant amount on an Uber to Wasilla.

  I can’t wait to get my license. I’ve rebooked the test for three weeks from now.

  “You’re in a thrift shop?” Agnes does a terrible job hiding the shock from her voice.

  I laugh. “I’m trying to embrace this whole upcycling and recycling thing for decorating our place.” Ever since Jonah divulged his worries about finances, I’ve been reining in all spending to avoid stressing him out. “It’s a challenge. Gives me something to do.” And it gives the gray-haired woman behind the counter who has been watching me intently (as if I’m going to steal something from a thrift shop) something to do. Maybe if I had come with Jonah the day he donated a truck’s worth of trinkets and trash from our house, she’d seem friendlier. “How are things at Aro?”

  “Oh … it’s fine. Not the same, but nothing stays the same forever.” Agnes sighs. “So, what about Diana? When is she coming up?”

  “She’s trying for August, but Aaron said he can’t make it work and she won’t come on her own.” I try to not let my annoyance show in my voice. I shouldn’t be surprised. We’ve never been able to manage so much as a girls’ night without an appearance or at the very least, a phone call, from him.

  “August will be nice. Fewer bugs,” Agnes rationalizes. “And your mom?”

  “They’re saying Christmas.” Another prick of disappointment that I’m trying to ignore, though I understand my mother’s rationale—two Christmases in a row apart is not an option. “But Jonah’s mom wants us to go to Oslo for Christmas.”