by Nicole Snow
I’ve got my window down. The air smells gorgeous: crisp with pine and distant unmelted snow, warmed by the sun.
Underneath it all, there’s that scent of Miss Fliss and her constant fragrance of warm homey coffee.
“I’m sorry,” Felicity says, breaking the silence that’s held since we loaded up my camping supplies, dropped Eli off, and headed out before many folks would be up to stare at a monster crane floating down Main Street.
I’ve been expecting this, though it’s so abrupt it catches me off guard.
I glance at her again, but she’s not looking at me, staring out the window—until I catch her gaze in the reflective glass, the shimmer of morning turning the window into a mirror.
That’s when it hits me.
She hasn’t been looking out at the wilderness the whole time.
She’s been looking at my reflection in the truck’s window.
Fuck.
I feel like I’m ten years younger, the way my head spins with all these questions about why, and about why I want her to be staring—but the rational adult’s still in charge.
And rational adult me feels more concerned with that troubled look on her face that says she’s two seconds away from bolting out of a moving vehicle like we’re in the middle of some old Jean-Claude Van Damme remake.
“What’re you apologizing for?” I ask carefully.
“Everything. Nothing. I...” She lifts her hands, then drops them into her lap hard enough to make her palms smack her thighs. “I only meant to ask you for advice. This was never supposed to happen, and now here you are, driving up into the mountains with me, chasing ghosts.”
I shrug, idly thumping my thumb against the steering wheel.
“Little late to stop now. Already got the crane loaded and we’re almost there. Not to mention I don’t like taking no for an answer.” I flash her a wink.
Honestly, I was surprised by how easily she’d given in at the time, considering what a prideful little fox she is.
But I figure the other day, she’d been in shock, too overwhelmed by me springing this camping idea on her when she was trying to play coy with her un-hypotheticals.
Shock’s worn off now.
I should probably brace myself for an argument, a panicked demand to turn this truck right back around on this narrow two-lane mountain road and let her do whatever fool thing she’s fixing to do. Alone.
Felicity twists to glance over her shoulder, looking through the window in the back of the truck. Most of the view’s taken up by the deep yellow and black stripes of the crane.
She squints at it with her mouth knotted up before sighing.
“I know, Alaska, I just—I don’t know. Not really.” With a frustrated sound, she twists to face forward again. “People who get close to me usually end up regretting it. People who do me favors can lose more than they ever meant to give. I’m the black cat of Heart’s Edge. And one guy...” Her mouth trembles, and she flashes me a heavy-eyed look full of enough guilt to sink a tanker. “One guy lost his life.”
My hands tighten on the wheel.
“Unless you killed him yourself,” I ask, “how’s it your fault again?”
“It just is.” She hisses it out, pressing her tongue against her upper lip, pink tip curling. “My father was involved in bad things. I told you that. A few years ago, there was a friend of mine, this older guy, Dennis Bress...”
Her eyes mist over, and she tilts her head against the window again, staring out at the sun shafts sliding through the trees.
“Go on,” I urge her.
“He was so sweet, but always so sad. He had his own issues. He was big into local real estate and trying to help me with working out collateral for a loan. Back then I didn’t know the slightest thing about working with banks or how to safely use my café as collateral without losing it. Not to mention my credit’s so bad I’d need ten cosigners to take out a thousand dollars. All he wanted was to help me because he loved my coffee so much. And then this other guy who was caught up in my dad’s hot mess just up and murdered him. All because he was using poor Mr. Bress to cover himself.”
“Your friend died because some asshole thought he was disposable,” I point out firmly. “Just because he knew you doesn’t mean his death was on your hands.”
“It was,” she repeats, clenching her fists against her thighs. “It’s a butterfly effect. Because maybe if Dad never did the things he did that entire chain of events wouldn’t have—”
“No point worrying about if when if is never gonna happen.” I frown.
Yeah, her old man was involved with drug runners—but he wasn’t around anymore, and I doubt Felicity’s taken up in his footsteps.
“Look, you can only worry about the now, and what’s to come. And right now, you can’t carry the cross of blame for your father’s mistakes. They’re his to bear and he’s gone.”
“...try telling that to everyone else,” she mutters miserably. “I just don’t want to see you or Eli hurt.”
“You think anything can hurt me?” I flash her a grin. “And you can be damned sure Papa Bear isn’t letting anyone near his son.”
She blinks at me, her mouth twitching in little spasms, almost like she can’t control it.
She finally loses the battle and her soft, sweet red lips turn up at the corners, a snort of amusement escaping her lips.
“Papa Bear, huh?”
“Got a smile out of you, didn’t it?”
“Yeah. You did. Congratulations.” Her eyes soften. “Thanks for that.”
“Anytime, Fliss.”
She just looks at me for a few long seconds, and I wonder what she’s thinking.
The woman’s an odd one. Seems like she’s got her heart on her sleeve, but there’s always something held back, too.
Like she’s keeping a secret in those shining eyes that study me like she’s trying to suss out my true motives. I’ve got a skittish one on my hands here, all right, and that gorgeous creature is trying to figure out if I want to have her for dinner.
I mean. Shit.
There’s a terrible joke or two I could make here about eating her—and about being an overgrown wild thing myself, looking for a mate.
I’m holding it in.
Barely.
Let me tell you, it’s a feat of goddamned strength.
I glue my eyes back on the road and not on the pretty girl I want to gravitate to with every breath.
“Hope you’re not too worried about heading up here with me. I’ve done riskier jobs in the SEALs. I won’t let anything happen to you,” I tell her.
“What if you’re what I need to worry about?” she asks solemnly.
I jerk so hard it’s a miracle I don’t stomp my foot on the brake.
“Uh.” I glance at her, wide-eyed. “Ma’am, I am not that kind of guy. If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll turn right back around and go back for Eli. You can sure as hell bet I wouldn’t mess with a girl without her consent, but least of all in front of my kid.”
I’m not expecting the stifled snickering.
Or for it to turn into full-blown, playful, belly-busting laughter.
Vixen.
I scowl at her. “What’s so damn funny?”
“Nothing, I just...the look on your face! Oh my God.” She’s laughing behind her hand, her eyes bright above her curled fingers. “I wasn’t serious, Alaska. I wouldn’t be in this truck if I didn’t think you were a hundred percent safe.”
I don’t know if that warms me or rustles my jimmies just a little.
I’m glad she knows I’m safe.
I’m glad she feels safe with me.
But hell, I wonder if she even sees me as a man at all, if she doesn’t think I might just be looking her way. While I’ll keep my hands to myself without an invitation, sometimes that Cupid’s bow of her lips makes my wayward thoughts filthy things without my invitation.
That’s my problem to deal with, though.
I grumble and slump down in the driver’s seat.
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“Can’t always tell when people are joking sometimes. My primary social life for the last twelve years has been Eli,” I say.
“Is it true what Holt says?” she teases. “That you spent more time around polar bears than people?”
Not this shit again.
“I think what’s true is I’m gonna have to string Holt Silverton from a ceiling fan by his balls. When did he tell you that?”
She smiles at me sunnily. “While you were checking the chains on the crane.”
“You mean when his lazy ass was supposed to be helping me,” I counter.
“He was helping you.” She blinks innocently. “He was helping me feel safe with you. I think he called you a—what was it again?” Felicity makes a big show out of thinking, tapping at her lower lip and raising her eyes to the roof of the cab. “A big teddy bear. That’s what he said. Just a big old fuzzy squish.”
“There’s nothing squishy about me, woman,” I say darkly.
“But you are kinda fuzzy.”
“Can’t deny that.” I grin, stroking my beard. Really oughta give it a trim, or just go straight-up Viking and start putting beads in it. “Does that make you want to pet me?”
There’s nothing but a strangled sound from her, and I glance off the road—I’m doing that too much with this girl—to find her staring stiffly out the window, her face red as a beet.
“Hey,” I murmur. “Just teasing. Promise you I really am harmless. We’re just killing time on a long drive, but I’m sorry if I crossed a line.”
“You didn’t.” She laughs then, and it’s honest and sweet and real. A coil of tension in me loosens its grip. With one more shy peek at me, she brushes her hair back. “I’m not used to people being that easy with me. I mean, yeah, I have my friends who don’t care about the petty small-minded stuff, but they have their own troubles. I’m usually the one listening to them, trying to lighten their mood.”
“Don’t you think it’s about time you deserved somebody listening to you?” I ask.
“Deserved? I don’t know about that.” She gives me a smile that could bring summer to Fairbanks in January. “But it’s definitely nice to have your ear.”
I can’t answer.
Not when that smile makes my heart boom behind my ribs, churning and straining even harder than the traction on this eighteen-wheeler.
Even so, I’m glad to smile back, and we settle into an easy, comfortable quiet for the rest of the drive.
We take the scenic route—though technically every route feels like the scenic one up here.
The road slopes down on one side to lush overgrown valleys full of trees older than my grandpa, clustered so dense together it’s like primordial forest. When an ancient tree falls in these parts, it never quite hits the ground. It just gets caught up in the branches of the trees around it and leans there while new things grow on it, grass and moss and vines, all the living things making their homes inside.
To the other side, the mountains rise in sheer cliffs and rough slopes.
Every now and then as we round a turn we get a breathtaking view of snowy peaks marching against a brilliant blue skyline so clear you’d think it was a technicolor painting.
Not something real.
The beauty continues as we crest a peak in the road that cuts through a mountain pass, looking down into the miniature valley that cups Glass Lake.
Now I can see how it got its name.
It’s as clear and smooth as glass, barely rippling, throwing back the reflection of day with a perfect blue sheen. It’s also so translucent you can see into the depths.
Looks a bit murky toward the center, though.
Too deep to make out more than muddy shadows beyond a certain point, the reflection of the sky becoming a mask that hides what’s underneath.
On the far end of the lake there’s a little rental place along the shore with a few pontoon boats bobbing in a small marina. Sort of disorienting when the water’s clarity makes the boats look like they’re floating on air—something I’ve only seen in places like French Polynesia before.
Felicity lets out an awed sound, looking through the windshield with wide eyes. “It’s gorgeous. I forgot just how beautiful it is up here.”
“You come here a lot?”
“...used to.” She hooks her index fingers together, tugging them like she’s trying to break out of an invisible finger trap. “Back when, you know, things were still good with my family. We’d come camping up here sometimes.”
“Fliss?”
“Yeah?”
“You sure you want to do this?” I make sure the brake’s locked, the truck idling, before I turn to face her, propping an arm against the back of the seat. “What if there’s nothing up here for you but bad memories?”
“Then I need to face them,” she says firmly with a touch of brave pride that makes admiration flare in my chest. “But if there’s nothing here, then you dragged this humongous crane up here for nothing.”
“Not for nothing. Got camping gear, fishing tackle, a cooler full of beer, and a pretty girl. Sounds like a nice weekend to me.” I thump the back window of the cab, where the crane’s just a blot of yellow in my peripheral vision. “The crane can stand night watch.”
Felicity lets out a soft laugh, but it’s a little nervous, too.
I promise myself I’ll make sure of one thing no matter what happens today.
Felicity Randall’s leaving here better than when she came.
It’s a little awkward maneuvering the truck down the steep slope into the valley, and then around the lake along some narrow dirt roads winding through the trees. I think if there hadn’t been loggers here before, their tracks worn deep, I’d have never gotten the truck through.
It’s even more awkward dealing with the guy at the boat rental place. He can’t stop staring at the crane while I’m just trying to get out of here with the fewest questions possible.
He just gawks out the window of his little booth, looking between me and Felicity, past us at the crane, then back at Felicity, who’s tucked close to me with her wool-lined jacket wrapped tight around her, arms hugged close against the glacial nip of mountain air.
I’m in short sleeves, of course.
To me, this is a balmy day.
“Uh,” the guy says. “Are y’all with a construction crew?”
“Nope.” I smile and offer him my debit card. “Just came here for some camping. Maybe a little fishing too.”
“You gonna scoop all the fish out with the crane? Shit, mister, we don’t got whales in this lake.”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” I counter cheerfully, and don’t offer a single other word.
After a few more seconds of expectant staring, the guy snorts, swipes the card, and hands it over, along with the key to unlock the boat’s controls. With him watching us, Felicity and I head down to the dock, scanning the numbers on the boats’ hulls to find ours.
“You good taking this out to the site?” I ask. “I’ll get the truck situated close by.”
“Sure,” she says. “Although I think that guy’s ready to call the rangers on us.”
“Any laws about transporting construction equipment out here?” I ask.
“Don’t think so.”
“If anyone asks, I work construction. This was the only vehicle I had for a sudden detour to camp on the way home from a job, and it just happened to be loaded at the time.” I laugh, and nod at the far side of the lake. There’s a small inlet there, where a spit of land thrusts out and isolates a small segment of the lake from view on this side. “Meet you over there?”
“Sure thing, Papa Bear.”
Before I can do anything but splutter, she flicks my arm with her fingertips, plucks the keys from my hand, and marches down the weathered boards of the dock. I watch her vault lightly into the pontoon boat without so much as rocking it.
This woman.
I’m left watching dumbfounded as she unmoors the pontoon boat with an expert hand and s
ends it puttering into the water, looking like she’s floating on air.
I don’t realize I have company till there’s the scuff of a foot on the dock, and I find Rental Guy staring after her, looking confused and flustered.
He starts to open his mouth.
I raise a hand.
“No more questions, man. Seriously. It’s not as deep as you think. Here.” I open my wallet and push a few crisp bills into his hand. “Extra safety deposit to cover any concerns you’ve got going through that head. Keep it.”
I leave him there, flabbergasted, chuckling to myself.
He’s gonna have some stories to tell his old lady when he gets home tonight, I’m guessing.
I’ve got a girl sailing away from me, though, and she’ll beat me to the campsite at this rate, so I clap the guy’s shoulder and head back to where we parked the truck.
By the time I get to the site I’d pointed out, I’m cursing. It’s a small miracle I haven’t tipped this damned thing over.
Rocky gravel, mud...maybe I was a little overconfident.
After a solid half hour, I manage to park the truck behind a cluster of fir trees not far from the tree line. Looks like a clear path to back the crane down the truck’s ramp to the shore if needed. Though in the loose, silty soil and lakeshore gravel, I’ll probably need some big rocks to wedge the thing in if we need it.
Felicity’s waiting for me when I haul my sweaty behind out of the cab with both our bags and a big duffel of camping gear slung to my back. Wrestling a truck shouldn’t be so exhausting.
She’s found a tumble of rocks that bump right up to the shore, windswept clean except for a little lichen and a few collected pools of rainwater in the hollows.
The way she looks seizes me by the throat.
She’s sitting on the rocky peak with her hands braced on both sides of her lithe body, her nose pink from the cold, her eyes bright and her cinnamon hair spilling over her shoulders.
In a flash, I see this strange freshwater mermaid, playing at being human.
Like any moment now she’ll tumble away, skin silver-white and icy as the glacial water, hair streaming kelp, her legs turned into a fishtail.
Maybe it’s an odd fantasy—the kind of thing I’m used to from hours spent on Alaskan fishing boats, the waves lulling you into quiet daydreams.
