Staking a Claim

by Devon McKay

  Forcing himself to head back to camp, he resolved to keep his hands to himself. No more excuses.

  There was no actual need to smell the sensual scent of her hair, an enticing mix of exotic flowers and a faint trace of vanilla. It certainly wasn’t life or death. Nor would denying himself the touch of her skin, soft as cashmere, prove to be a fatality.

  He came to the clearing, pausing as the sight of the woman caught his attention and stole his breath away. Sam sat cross-legged on the ground, leaning back, face tilted up toward the sun. With her eyes closed, an expression of contentment graced her features. He sucked in another breath. Never before could he recall being so disarmed by such a beautiful display.

  An internal conflict began to brew, challenging his thoughts. The woman doesn’t belong here, he reminded himself. She reeked of the city…even down to her designer jeans. Though she was in a sitting position, Blake recalled in great detail the way the denim clung to her hips like a second skin, hugging her every curve. Even the annoying articulated way she spoke screamed of a world he wanted nothing to do with.

  Then why did she seem so at home? And why did he find himself holding his breath for her every word?

  He watched for a minute without garnishing Sam’s notice, enticed by the way the rays of the sun highlighted the pearly sheen of her flaxen hair. Short, sassy strands he longed to twine his fingers through.

  Sam opened her eyes and their gazes met. She raised her hand in an uncertain wave, and the corners of her mouth lifted into a smile, rattling his reserves. A sudden urge to kiss her swept over him.

  Flashes of an intimate embrace, their limbs entwined, and his mouth devouring hers took over every thought in his head, and he almost dropped their supper.

  Shaking free of the images, he held up the skinned rabbit. “Hungry?”

  Her smile faltered, quickly replaced by an expression of disgust, showing her city roots and reinforcing the fact she wouldn’t be here long. Soon, she’d be returning to the lower forty eight. Better to just keep his distance.

  He swallowed the dry remark forming on the tip of his tongue, and instead, released a low chuckle. This kind of behavior he could deal with, easier than trying to erase the blissful vision his stubborn mind clung to.

  “What is that?”

  “Dinner,” he replied, short and sweet.

  Sam stood and placed her hands on her hips. Blake couldn’t tell if she was angry or simply irritated by his answer. Not that it mattered. Either of the two pleased him just fine.

  “Rabbit.”

  An unladylike scowl contorted her features, and he felt a grin start to form. For some reason, her apparent distaste spurred him on.

  He held the skinned body in the air, inches from her face. “Not a fan?”

  A veiled emotion flashed in her green eyes. “I’ve never had it before,” she replied in a cool, brisk tone.

  “Well, I’m sure it’s not as fancy as the food you’re used to, but here we consider rabbit a good meal. Hold this while I get a fire started.”

  He shoved the cadaver into her hand before she had time to object. Blake scooped the branches she’d gathered into a circle and lit a flame. The dry wood caught quickly, and in a matter of minutes, he had a fire. He spared a glance in her direction before making a makeshift spit.

  The woman had spunk. He noted the way she stubbornly held onto their dinner, despite her obvious discomfort. He held back another chuckle and shook his head, fully expecting her to have dropped the skinned hare by now. Or at least put it in a pan. But, no. This city girl had grit.

  He relieved her of the job and speared the rabbit with a sturdy branch he’d peeled with his pocket knife, then placed the carcass over the fire. Scanning the area, he found a nice sized log to use as a seat, which he rolled toward the open pit.

  Blake sat down and patted the wood in invitation for her to join him. Deja vu. This was becoming a pattern. And, even though he’d rather not admit it, something he could get used to.

  Sam wiped her hands on her pants and made her way to the seat. For several minutes, they sat in silence, watching the fire.

  “Are you tired?” he asked. “We had a bit of a hike today.”

  She responded with a nod, staring into the flames. “I’m exhausted, and hungry enough to even eat whatever it is you’re pawning off as a rabbit.”

  He laughed out loud. “It is—was—a rabbit. And it shouldn’t take long now. I’d say another ten minutes or so.” He stood and rolled the stick holding their dinner. The meat sizzled and the hearty scent of a cooked meal filtered through the air, rendering his stomach to growl in response.

  Sam swatted her arm. “My stars. Are there always this many mosquitoes?” She waved her hand in the air, swishing away the pesky insects. Her actions did little other than redirect their flight.

  “It’s Alaska’s state bird,” Blake responded smartly and walked over to his backpack to retrieve a can of bug spray. Returning to his seat, he handed her the container.

  “Thanks.” She accepted it with a grateful smile. “State bird, huh? That’s kind of funny. I guess they are pretty big.” Sam smirked as she stepped to the side and sprayed before resettling beside him. The strong scent of pines immediately filled the air. She handed the bug spray back. “So, this is how you spend your time off?”

  “Yep. I love it. In fact, I don’t think there is anything better than being in nature.” He tossed the can toward his bag. Checking the meat, Blake tore off a small chunk and tasted it to see if it was done. Satisfied, he cut another piece and handed it to Sam.

  “It is kind of nice. Quiet,” she admitted, tearing off a sliver and placing it in her mouth. She chewed the bite with a slow, cautious measure. “And this…this is good,” she confessed. “Not gamey. It tastes like…”

  “I know. Don’t say it,” Blake warned playfully.

  “Gator,” she finished with a coy smile.

  Surprised at her answer, he chuckled and removed the spear from its position above the flame. He then slid the rest of the rabbit into the frying pan on a large rock nestled next to the fire before settling down beside Sam.

  “What? Did you think I was going to say cat?” She giggled.

  The joke caught him off guard, and he couldn’t help but find her amusing. Glancing over, he watched as she continued to tear the meat into thin strands before popping pieces into her mouth.

  After a few minutes, she finished and licked her lips with apparent appreciation and reached out for more. He handed her the pan, and she repeated the process, dividing then devouring a good portion of the meat.

  His heart sped up a beat. He was in big trouble if he found the way the woman toyed with her food interesting.

  “Why do they call you Wolf?” she asked between bites, wiping her hands off on her pant leg in a quirky, unladylike way.

  “Just a nickname I got when I was a kid,” he answered, hoping the quick response would stop anymore of her questions.

  No such luck.

  “Kind of an odd nickname, don’t you think? I’m sure there’s much more to the story.” Sam pierced him with a searching stare. “I know. You aren’t going to tell me. Probably scared I’ll write it down and put it in my brochure,” she murmured under her breath and tore another chunk of meat into shreds while maintaining the probing gaze.

  He wouldn’t put it past the woman. Besides, he didn’t trust her. Not yet. The last thing he wanted to do was give her a blow by blow explanation as to the name the elders honored him with. She was getting a little too close already. Hell, she was starting to get under his skin. Even more reason not to give her a detailed description about his life.

  After several minutes of silence, Sam shrugged. “I could do this.”

  Thankful the conversation was turning in a new direction, Blake exhaled a lungful of air. “Do what? Drive me crazy by dissecting the rest of this rabbit into small pieces before you eat it? Do you always play with your food?”

  “No…well, yes.” Her face flus
hed an endearing pink, and she pushed the pan toward him. “But I was talking about this.” She whisked the air around her with a graceful hand. “I could live off the land. I think I could anyway. It’s not so bad.” She paused, her gaze sweeping over their campsite. “I mean, it’s not the Hilton, but this tent thing isn’t so bad after all. Maybe I could get a nickname of my own in the process. Something really Alaskan. How does Sourdough Sam sound?”

  Blake laughed again. Shaking his head, he held his tongue. The woman had no idea what it was like to live off the land. Especially rugged country like this. In fact, he doubted she’d ever roughed it anywhere. But the fact she considered such a thought made him smile.

  He focused on the bright pink polish of her fingernails. No, the woman didn’t have a clue. In the wild, there was no nail salons. No bathrooms or clothing stores. No fancy coffee houses. Just feral, untamed land which would chew you up and spit you out without a second thought.

  As far as a name? He didn’t even want to consider what the notion would entail. For starters, she’d have to meet Denali or a member of his tribe. Something which would never happen.

  “I say it’s about time to call it a night.” Blake stood and headed toward the creek, which ran down the mountainside, not wanting to spoil the moment with anymore thoughts of what will never be.

  After a decent yardage away from camp, he cleared the remains of the rabbit and wiped clean the frying pan, washing his hands and the utensil off in the cold water.

  He made his way back through the dense forest. At the edge of the clearing, a sight stopped him in his tracks.

  The faint glow of the lantern in her tent cast a silhouette of Sam kneeling. For a moment, he watched the dark outline of her body as she peeled off her jacket and adjusted the tank top she wore underneath. Mesmerized, he watched as her hands made their way lower, toward her pants.

  The sound of the zipper relinquishing its hold squeezed the last bit of breath from his lungs, but he couldn’t pull his gaze away. Blake simply couldn’t help himself, as drawn to the sight as a moth to a flame.

  He cleared his throat, making his presence known.

  “Blake?” She stuck her head out of the flap as soon as she heard him. “Good, you’re back. I was starting to get worried.” Her eyes narrowed as she focused and a finely arched brow furrowed. “Is everything okay? We are still safe, right?” Sam started to say something else, but stopped herself, biting her bottom lip as if she was nervous or anxious.

  “More so than your city life,” he responded gravely, somehow finding the words.

  At the moment, he felt anything but safe. And another display like the one he’d just seen might give them both an experience far more exciting than what she feared lurked in the wild.

  Wisely, he headed to his own tent. Upon entrance, he immediately noted she’d set up his sleeping bag and arranged the space into a neat and tidy home for the night. Blake swallowed hard against the lump forming in his throat.

  But the damage from what he’d witnessed was already done, leaving a restless urge to toss the bedding out the door.

  The last thing he needed tonight was neat and tidy.

  ****

  Sam tossed and turned in her sleeping bag, knowing sleep would never come. Not the way she was feeling. Today had taken a toll on her, and it wasn’t just the hike.

  Damn the man.

  Being so close to Blake was starting to drive her absolutely nuts. Almost as if she had no control of her own body. Ever since she’d witnessed the glimpse of the hard, sculptured planes of his abs, she’d wanted nothing more than to trace her fingers over every inch of his muscles.

  She sucked in a deep breath and recalled the heat of his body against her back when he helped her with the tent frame. Not to mention the jolt of electricity when he’d brushed her hand with his…

  A fevered rush swept through her veins, and she threw off the top covering of the sleeping bag.

  His words came back to haunt her again. But now it wasn’t Blake having difficulty keeping his hands to himself. She was guilty of that. How many times had she reached out to grab his arm for support? Even though she’d been perfectly capable of standing her ground once she got an angle on the slanted slope?

  The chill of the night air cooled her skin, and she pulled the cover back over her. This was ridiculous.

  After running hot and cold for what seemed like an eternity, sleep finally came, putting her thoughts on a steady idle.

  Chapter 11

  “Morning, sunshine,” Blake greeted Sam with a boyish grin as blinding as the large yellow orb in the sky he was comparing her to.

  “Morning,” she grumbled, forcing a smile. Sunshine indeed. After a restless night, her attitude was anything but sunny.

  He chuckled, apparently finding the fact she was not a morning person amusing.

  Stretching, she cast an irritated glance in his direction before joining him at the fire. Regardless of her grumpy mood, he was still incredibly handsome. Waking up in the woods agreed with the man.

  He placed the frying pan he’d been stirring off to the side of the fire. “This should make you feel better,” he said, picking up a metal pitcher and pouring steaming liquid into a matching blue and white speckled mug. Still smiling, he handed it over.

  “Oh, thank God. So, what’s the plan today?” she asked, bringing the cup to her nose and deeply inhaling the strong scent of coffee before settling down on the log. Too hot to drink, she blew into the mug, hoping to cool it down quickly so she could take a sip.

  Blake returned the pan to the fire and began scraping at the yellow mass inside with a spatula. “These look done. You mind getting the plates?” He motioned toward the blue platters with his elbow.

  Sam sat her mug on the ground and stood. Gathering the two plates and eating utensils, she waited for him to scoop food onto each one and then sat back down.

  He placed the empty pan to the side and positioned himself next to her. “Thanks,” he said, accepting a loaded dish and fork. “I had planned on hiking up the pass today, but I wasn’t sure if you were game or not.”

  “Sure.” Another night alone in the woods with a man she had trouble keeping her hands off. No problem. “Sounds good.” Hell, it sounded downright decadent. “What’s up the pass?” she inquired, pushing what looked like scrambled eggs from one side of her plate to the other in order to keep her mind from strolling down a dangerous path. Realizing she was toying with the food, she quickly shoveled a forkful into her mouth.

  “Not much really. It’s just a nice hike. There’s an old homesteader’s cabin.” He paused as if in deep thought. “Not sure if it’s still standing. It’s been a few years since I’ve seen it.”

  “Will we be camping there tonight?” Sam spared a glance at Blake, noting the melancholy expression on his face as she piled more eggs on her fork. “Is there something special about this place?”

  “Yes,” he said thoughtfully, before quickly changing his tune. “No, not really. Not anymore. It’s just an old cabin. There is a nice stream nearby. Thought maybe you’d like to try your hand at gold panning.”

  Sam wanted to prod, but held her tongue, even though she was sure he was holding back. After a few days in his company, she knew better than to push him. Such actions only ended in arguments. Instead, she embraced the thought of gold panning. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought she’d ever experience something so typically Alaskan.

  Eager to go, she cleared the rest of her plate in two large bites. “I’ll start packing my tent now.”

  ****

  After a grueling two hour hike, Blake needed a break. And it wasn’t from the physical exertion. He was more exhausted from too much thinking.

  Sam had managed to cover just about every subject she could concerning Alaska, starting with the first gold rush, and at the moment, discussing the average snowfall of the harsh winter.

  He had to give her credit; at least her facts had been spot on, and with her constant chatter,
he didn’t have to call out a warning to bears.

  “Oh, I forgot about these,” Sam exclaimed.

  Spinning around, he saw her pull a red bracelet embellished with four large bells out of the front pocket of her jacket.

  Bear bells.

  The clink of metal chimed as if on cue. Either her timing was uncanny or they were simply on the same page and sharing the same thoughts about their safety. Good. As long as she was aware of her surroundings, the woman had a chance of surviving the wilderness. But not with the flashy noisemaker.

  “They’re supposed to scare away bears,” she explained, slipping the noisy bangle on her wrist.

  “Yeah.” Blake scowled. Even with all of her well-researched knowledge, she had fallen victim to the oldest tourist joke in Alaska. “More like the opposite. We call those dinner bells. Take the damn thing off. All it does is tell a bear a hot meal is headed its way.”

  “But the salesclerk at the airport boutique told me they were a necessity,” she argued, holding her ground as a pretty pout started to form on her full lips.

  He snatched the bracelet off her wrist and tucked the bells snugly back into her pocket. As harmless as the action had been meant, touching her invited racy thoughts, and he tried to focus on the topic at hand. Keeping her alive. Not pushing her—and himself—past the point of no return.

  “Keep them as a souvenir. Trust me. If a bear is around, those damn bells won’t help you. That’s my job,” he reminded her and patted the large firearm on his hip. “Besides, with all of your talking you’ve already given the wildlife a heads up.”

  An endearing smile spread across her lips, highlighting her beauty. Apparently, Sam found his last remark amusing. And her charming reaction was contagious.

  The corners of his lips tugged his cheeks into a grin, and he shook his head. This darn woman was definitely getting under his skin. The little minx was certainly intriguing. She made him want to laugh, shout out an angry outburst, or tear off all her clothes. And once or twice, he’d even experienced all three reactions at the same time.

  Removing his backpack, he set it down on a large rock and withdrew two bottles of water, handing one over to her.