Finding Paradise

by Barbara Dunlop

  “You must have hiked with your family a lot,” he said.

  “What makes you think that?”

  “You said you knew edible plants.”

  “We did go on weekend wilderness treks. They weren’t much fun, though.”

  “No?”

  “It’s hard to enjoy yourself when you’re training for nuclear fallout, germ warfare or the collapse of the world economic system.”

  “So, no happy campfire songs?”

  “No gooey marshmallows or hot dog roasts. Just reconstituted freeze-dried meat. Sort of a sludge, really.” She shuddered at the memory.

  “Sounds worse than the military.”

  “Did they make you eat freeze-dried food?”

  “Meals, Ready to Eat in the field sometimes. A lot of stews and pasta. Not the greatest, but okay if you’re hungry. Mostly I was on base maintaining and repairing planes.”

  “And learning to shoot, obviously.”

  “Everybody learns to shoot.”

  Marnie spotted a patch of green plants with waxy leaves and dark red berries clustered in their centers. “Lingonberries?” She’d seen them in books but not in the wild.

  He looked to where she pointed. “We call them low-bush cranberries. Tart but quite tasty.”

  “So.” She lifted her brows. “A snack?”

  He gestured to the patch. “By all means.”

  She crouched to her knees and picked a couple of the ripest-looking ones, popping them into her mouth. They made her mouth pucker, and Cobra laughed at her.

  “Tart is right,” she said, swallowing.

  “Mrs. France turns them into jam and pies. I suspect she uses plenty of sugar. They’re good in muffins too.”

  “Ooh. These would be great in muffins.” Marnie nibbled a few more.

  “You bake?” Cobra asked as he picked himself a handful.

  Marnie shook her head. “Not in years. My kitchen’s small, and there’s a great bakery just down the block.”

  “I bet they don’t have wild cranberry muffins straight from the source.” He tossed the handful into his mouth.

  She sat all the way down and picked another berry, the dry grass cracking, a few insects buzzing around her. “Baking was work to me as a kid. We baked all the staples, whole-grain bread and buns, biscuits, pancakes.”

  “Nothing exciting like a birthday cake or some brownies?”

  She shook her head.

  He settled himself on the ground. “My mom baked birthday cakes. I imagine she still does. She didn’t make bread or anything, just the fun stuff like Christmas cookies—shortbread and sugar cookies shaped like Christmas trees and bells.”

  “With icing and sprinkles on top?”

  “With icing and sprinkles.”

  Marnie gave a sigh. “I think I’d like your mom.” She nibbled another berry.

  An odd expression crossed his face. “We can take some berries back with us if you want them.”

  She realized she didn’t. She wanted the taste of lowbush cranberries to be special to this place, this day, this moment in time with Cobra.

  “Your lips are turning red,” he said.

  She reflexively turned them inward to lick off the stain.

  His gaze intensified as he watched the motion, and her lips tingled with desire that made its way to her chest.

  “Want to bring those lips over here?” he asked softly.

  She did—no question about it. She uncurled her legs and moved his way.

  He reached for her, circling her waist and easing her into his lap, settling her there, cradled across his thighs.

  He smoothed back her hair and cupped her cheek. His sweet breath fanned her face. “It feels like I’ve waited forever for this.”

  “You’ve kissed me before,” she pointed out.

  “Not really. Not like this. Not deliberate and slow with all the time in the world.”

  He kissed her gently, fleetingly, like butterfly wings passing over her lips.

  She’d been waiting forever too. “More,” she whispered, stretching up.

  He smiled and met her halfway, his lips coming firmly against hers, soft, tender, mobile. It was a great kiss, a perfect kiss, the best kiss of her life.

  She angled toward him and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself flat against his chest. Their kiss went on and on. She never wanted it to end.

  He laid back on the dry meadow grasses, bringing her down on top, and she stretched out, loving the feel of their bodies pressed so intimately together. His forearm splayed across her back, and he stroked her hair, inhaling deeply, kissing her neck and her collarbone, then nudging her sweater and jacket aside to kiss her shoulder.

  She sat up, straddling him, and unzipped her jacket.

  He grasped both sides before she could peel it off. “Not here.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s too cold, for one thing.”

  “I’m hot.” She fought a losing battle against the strength of his grip.

  “Our last time was on a workbench.”

  She shrugged. “We’re adventurous.”

  “You deserve a bed, someplace warm.”

  “It’s not like we’re never going to do it again.”

  He sat up then, his arms bracketing her. “Yeah?”

  “I’m here for two weeks. You think we’re going to stop after today?”

  “Not unless you want to.” He zipped up her jacket.

  “Hey!”

  “Hey, what?”

  “I thought I was winning that argument.”

  “Look,” he said, nodding to something behind her.

  “Is that a distraction?”

  “No. Look.”

  She twisted her neck and let out a little gasp, seeing the most graceful, leggy, wild-looking creature padding along the far edge of the meadow.

  “Lynx,” he whispered in her ear.

  It was much bigger than a domestic cat, with a fluffy mottled taupe coat, too-long lanky legs, sharp ears and a wild face with yellow eyes.

  “Is it dangerous?” she whispered to Cobra as the creature grew closer.

  “It’ll bolt if it sees us.”

  The lynx turned to them then. It reared a little, looking shocked to find them sitting there. And Cobra was right. It instantly turned away and bounded over the meadow, disappearing over the edge of the riverbank.

  “That’s rare to see,” Cobra told her.

  “It was beautiful.”

  He rose to his feet, drawing her up with him. “Want to go see the falls?”

  “Not really.”

  He chuckled, swiping his fingertip across her nose. “You’re impatient.”

  “I am.”

  “I’ve still got a room above the hangar.”

  “I thought you moved back to your room.”

  “The hangar’s closer. It’s warm and private. By the time we look at the falls and walk out of here, everybody will be gone for the day.” He made it sound tempting.

  She slipped her hand into his. “Show me the falls.”

  * * *

  * * *

  The falls had been spectacular, but they didn’t hold a candle to making love with Cobra.

  Now, lying in his arms, the room dark except for an outdoor light shining through the window, she felt utterly peaceful and utterly cocooned in bliss.

  Her phone rang.

  “No.” She half groaned the word into Cobra’s bare chest.

  His arm tightened around her. “Ignore it.”

  “It might be Mia.”

  “What? You want to chat?”

  “She’ll worry.”

  He gave a long-suffering sigh and loosened his hold.

  Marnie rolled away, reaching down to the floor and feeling aroun
d for her jeans. She located the right pocket and slipped the phone out, hoisting herself up and flipping onto her back.

  Unknown number.

  Her heart sank, and her jaw set in frustration at the intrusion.

  “What?” Cobra asked, shifting closer as the ringing continued.

  She declined the call and dropped the phone back down on the pile of her pants.

  “I saw,” he admitted.

  “Damn it,” she ground out, snuggling back up against him, trying to recapture her bliss.

  “You still think it’s your family?” Cobra asked, feathering his fingertips along her arm.

  “My dad.” Her gut told her it was him. “But I don’t know for sure.”

  “I could answer for you,” he offered. “If he calls again. Find out what he wants.”

  “You mean scare him off.”

  “If that’s what you want me to do.”

  “He won’t want anything good, and I don’t want to have to think about him.” She tucked the covers more tightly around her, stopping a draft.

  “You’re thinking about him now,” Cobra pointed out.

  “I’ll stop.”

  They were silent for a minute.

  “Have you stopped?” he asked.

  Instead of answering, she made an inarticulate sound of frustration deep in her throat.

  “Maybe it’s not him.”

  “Maybe it’s not.”

  Cobra shifted. “Me . . . I might be tempted to find out for sure.”

  “And if it is him?” That was her worry.

  “Knowing for sure what he wants might be better than wondering about it.”

  “Oh no it won’t.” Marnie was certain of that.

  They were silent for another moment.

  Marnie tried to relax again, focusing on the warmth of Cobra’s skin. She rested her palm on his chest, feeling his heartbeat, working hard to get her father off her mind. But the image of her family on that last day, her father, brother and uncle being led from the courtroom in handcuffs, was stuck on a loop in her brain.

  “He’s tried twice now,” Cobra said, speaking softly against her hair.

  “Three times,” she responded.

  He pulled back to look at her. “Yeah?”

  She nodded.

  “Then he’s not likely to stop.”

  She nodded to that too.

  “If it was me,” Cobra started again.

  “It’s not you.”

  “I’d be too curious not to pick up. I’d assume something was wrong or something was right—someone in the family was sick or pregnant or engaged or something.”

  “You said your brother was married.”

  “Barrick’s married. Miles is single.”

  “Do they call you with happy news?” She tipped her head back to look at him. Her family hadn’t had happy news in a long time—then again, she doubted there was much happy news coming out of the state prison.

  “They do. Or they text me. You wonder why your father hasn’t texted?”

  “They don’t have the technology.” If anything, her father was calling from a prison pay phone.

  “Who doesn’t have a cell phone?” Cobra sounded perplexed, and she realized her error. “Are they worried about the government spying?”

  “Something like that.” She took the offered explanation.

  Cobra stage-whispered his response—an obvious thread of a joke in his tone. “They might not be so far wrong, you know. The government’s eyes and ears are everywhere.”

  She played along, her tension starting to ease. “Do you have insider information on that, Sergeant Stanford?”

  “No insider information. And, technically, it’s Master Sergeant Stanford.”

  “Yeah . . .” she drawled in a doubtful voice. “I won’t be calling you that.”

  “No?” He gathered her closer in his arms. “I think I’d like it if you did.”

  She extracted her hand and mockingly held it out for him to shake. “In that case, Marnie Anton, Esquire. Nice to meet you, Master Sergeant Stanford.”

  “Esquire?”

  She nodded.

  He shook her hand. “Probably a little too formal while we’re naked.”

  “True.” She pretended to contemplate. “I think I’ll call you . . .”

  “Cobra’s already a nickname.”

  “That’s fair.”

  “What’s your nickname?”

  “I don’t have a nickname.”

  “Never?”

  She shook her head.

  “Not even when you were a kid or in college or something?” he asked.

  “Nope.”

  “I don’t believe you. Is it bad? Is it embarrassing?”

  “My parents called me Marnie. They were not the frivolous sort.”

  “And in college?”

  “I was a serious student. I wasn’t into clubs and sororities.”

  “I call that good judgment.”

  “Why thank you, Master Sergeant.”

  He settled her more comfortably in his arms again and nuzzled the top of her head. “I think I’ll call you—”

  “You don’t get to pick my nickname.”

  “Sure, I do.”

  “Oh no you don’t.”

  “Cupcake.”

  “What?” She tried to sit up, but he held on tight. “No.”

  “You’re sweet and delicious, and we both know you have a weakness for them.”

  She pulled her hand back to bop him on the chest, but he trapped her wrist to stop her.

  “You can’t call me Cupcake,” she said.

  He was chuckling at her protests. “You can’t exactly stop me.”

  She twisted her body, straddling his and staring down into his eyes. “Maybe not.”

  “Definitely not.”

  “But I can bribe you.” She flexed her hips and placed her palms flat on his chest. Then she curved her lips in a sultry smile.

  “Bribe me how?” His voice was strangled.

  She leaned down and placed her warm lips in the center of his chest. Then she slowly kissed her way upward.

  He groaned, and his hands flexed around her thighs.

  She made it to his neck, then his stubbled chin, then the corner of his mouth. “What was it you were going to call me?”

  “Beautiful,” he breathed.

  “Better,” she whispered.

  “Wonderful,” he said.

  “Getting closer all the time.” She softly kissed his lips.

  “Fabulous,” he said, and flipped her over, easing down on top.

  “Fabulous isn’t a nickname.”

  Humor flashed in his eyes. “Then I guess we’re back to Cupcake.”

  She opened her mouth to object, but he kissed her deeply and in seconds she forgot what they were arguing about.

  * * *

  * * *

  Cobra was in a great mood today. He felt energized and alert, upbeat and optimistic as he gauged the weight of the ax in his hand. It had been a while since he’d done much throwing, but he didn’t care if he made it into this particular event or not. Silas threw well; so did Brodie. And last year T, T-Two and Jackson had all made a good showing.

  Whoever won the preliminaries today would do well for Paradise in the Klondike Challenge.

  The Galina staff had set up a row of freshly repainted targets, big rounds of rough cedar they’d cut years ago, taken from a tree trunk Raven had hauled up from the coast.

  “You look confident,” Silas said as the two men stood side-by-side.

  “Not worried about it one way or the other,” Cobra said.

  “It’s not like you won’t make the Paradise team. Nobody can touch you on sharpshooting.”

  “Seems un
likely.” There was no sense in pretending it wasn’t true. Cobra would be on the team for rifles and pistols if nothing else.

  “You know,” Silas said in a studiously casual tone that caught Cobra’s attention. “I expected to hear your rifle shots from my yard yesterday.”

  “Yeah?” Cobra looked up and down the line of ax throwers as six men took their places behind the line, fifteen feet in front of the targets.

  “Didn’t hear a thing.” Silas held his ax over his head, practicing the lineup.

  “We walked to the falls instead.”

  Silas lowered his ax and turned. “Marnie said you stopped by the hangar.”

  “We did both.” Cobra faced Silas, annoyed with the inquisition. “What’s this about?”

  “Just asking. You two seem . . .” Silas’s expression finished the accusation.

  “Are you worried about her getting hurt?” Cobra was being completely upfront with Marnie, and he resented Silas thinking anything else.

  Silas coughed out a laugh.

  “What’s funny?”

  “Dude, I’m not worried about her.”

  Cobra did a double take as the argument took a strange turn.

  Silas shook his head. “You have no idea the world of hurt you’re walking into.”

  “I’m not walking into anything.” Cobra was getting to know a very interesting and beautiful woman, that was all.

  A three-whistle blast split the air, telling the throwers to get ready.

  Silas turned to face the target. “You like her.”

  There was no point in denying it anymore. “So what?”

  “So, she’s LA tried and true. She’s going to leave you.”

  Cobra had a fleeting vision of his high school sweetheart, Shelby—although the two situations were completely different. “I know that,” he said impatiently to Silas.

  “There were twelve other women to pick from,” Silas said.

  Cobra hadn’t picked Marnie. She wasn’t here to be chosen.

  The whistle sounded a single long blast, and Silas threw his ax, hitting just outside the bull’s-eye.

  Cobra turned to the target and put his mind on the contest, hoisting the ax over his head, lining up, eyeballing the base and the bull’s-eye before swinging and letting it go. He buried it in the first ring.