Her Alaskan Hero

by Rebecca Thomas

  “You’ve just flown to a village with no road access. You think we have a shopping mall down the street?” His sarcastic tone scraped along her spine.

  Sabrina stopped and swiveled around. While she appreciated a take-charge kind of man, she wasn’t about to be bullied. She didn’t need reminders about her bad planning; she was well aware of her predicament. “You know, I’ve had a long day. In fact, I could even go so far as to say I’ve had a pretty bad day, and you grilling me about my clothes and my wish to catch pneumonia just might tip me over the edge.”

  With arms crossed over his Alaska-is-mightier-than-Texas tee shirt, he looked at her as though he might throw her on the next plane out of here all because of her choice in footwear. Were all Alaskans so welcoming and rebuffing at the same time? “And what would happen if you went over the edge?”

  Were they talking about clothes now, or something altogether different? “Maybe it would be best if you didn’t find out,” Sabrina said. “Once I get warm and my teeth stop chattering, maybe we can talk more about my unacceptable clothes…or lack thereof.”

  He didn’t know how lucky she was to have any clothes with her at all. She would still be wearing her wedding dress if she hadn’t left her clothes for the Hawaiian honeymoon in the limo.

  Alaskan men were obviously lacking in the etiquette department. Maybe she’d talk to the owner about hiring better help, but in the meantime a change in tactics was in order. She was, after all, the daughter of a politician; she knew how to schmooze better than anyone. Slapping on her happiest ‘I’d like your vote’ smile, she said, “I’m Sabrina Tate.” She let go of her roller bag and extended her hand. Thankfully, his eyes showed no recognition upon hearing her name. “Nice to meet you,” she said.

  The muscles in his semi-bearded jaw clenched for a second before he blew out a breath. “I’m Zak Forrester. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Tate.”

  His big hand encompassed hers. Warmth shot up her arm and she almost audibly sighed. Perhaps he had some manners. “Sabrina. Please, call me Sabrina.”

  He let go of her hand and grunted a response. “Call me Zak.”

  “Nice to meet you, Zak.” She longed for the callused feel of his hand to touch her again. His warmth had been like an anchor, reeling her body in. For a brief moment, all she wanted was to lean against the solidness of him, but she forced herself to take in her surroundings instead of the admittedly attractive man standing beside her.

  The log structure gave her a homey feel she’d never experienced before. The cozy leather sofas invited a person to curl up with a good book and a fluffy blanket. Staring at the hearth, she said, “This fireplace. It’s amazing. Just like Melody said.”

  “It’s a three-story river rock fireplace. Each stone was put into place by my brothers and me.” He ushered her to the brown leather couch in front of the fire’s toasty flames. “So about your reservation—”

  “You put the rocks in place yourself?” She glanced up at the prow-fronted, three-story windows. “And this view—the lake, the mountains, it’s breathtaking. So you’re the owner? The Forrester Lodge, and your name, it didn’t connect at first.”

  “Yes, my brothers and I are the owners.”

  So he wasn’t the hired help. Guess she couldn’t complain about his less-than-stellar customer service. He didn’t look like a desk clerk. She tore her gaze away from him, back to the windows. “And a big wrap-around deck. This place…it’s simply exquisite,” she said.

  “Thank you. It is, isn’t it?” He sat down beside her. “Sabrina?”

  “Yes?” She swiped her soaked bangs off her brow and breathed in the fresh clean scent of the room. This place might be exactly what she needed to reassess her life and plan a new beginning without Kyle.

  “I’d like to officially welcome you to the Forrester Lodge, but I’m afraid this is a temporary welcome,” he said. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “No one is here at the lodge right now except me because all our guests are moose hunting.”

  “Hunting season? Oh wow, yeah, that makes sense. You guys hunt up here.” She probably sounded like a babbling idiot, but she sensed his anxiety. Her state of mind wasn’t ready for bad news.

  He sucked in a big breath and gave her a sad look like he’d try to deliver the news gently. “Yes, we hunt up here. Listen, here’s the thing.”

  “Is it only moose, or do you hunt other things, too?” She probably sounded so dumb. She knew she just needed to stop.

  Only the crackling of the fire sounded. The gray-green of his eyes stared at her so intensely she knew it was time to listen. “We’re booked solid. I’m sorry if you were under the impression that you could fly all this way without a reservation.”

  No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. Not one more thing to go horribly wrong. Tears burned the back of her eyes. She felt like she was opening that letter again—knowing the news was bad. “I just figured all the tourists were gone, so you’d have rooms.”

  “The major part of tourist season is over, but hunting season is here. Some of the best moose and caribou hunting in the world is right here in Alaska’s interior,” Zak explained.

  The truth was she’d barely given any thought to room availability—she just got on the plane. “I’m sure you’re right. I just never thought. I wanted to get as far away as I could.” It dawned on her that the media could have followed her. It wasn’t as if a California senator’s daughter being jilted was that big of a story, but still. “Do you have televisions out here?”

  His thick brows turned inward forming a vee above his nose. “Yes.”

  What a stupid question. She wasn’t in a third-world country. “Do you watch the news much?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Sometimes.” He leaned closer to her. The heat from his body radiated against her like the fire. “Sabrina, is everything all right?”

  She clutched her Valentino purse in her lap and fought back the urge to tell Zak Forrester, lodge owner and desk clerk, everything she’d been through. The impulse to decompress overwhelmed her. Her chest felt tight and if she could just confess her troubles, maybe all would be well. She glanced around at the log walls surrounding her and wondered if there wasn’t some kind of magic “confessing” potion being emitted from the wood. “I’ll be fine. I just…I just wanted to get away.”

  “Are you in trouble? Are the state troopers looking for you?” His voice sounded brusque, almost angry.

  He had no reason to be angry with her—maybe her parents did, they had been the ones to pay for the wedding—but not his guy. “Do I look like a criminal?” she asked.

  “You asked about television. So if you aren’t trying to get away from the law, who or what are you trying to get away from?”

  Why not unload on a complete stranger? He could be like her hair stylist. Everyone told their hair stylist everything because they knew it would go no farther. He certainly wasn’t a reporter. What would it matter if he knew she’d been left at the altar?

  Despite the warmth of the fire, shivering overtook her. Usually an organized person, she would have made reservations in advance, but this wasn’t a normal day, and despite her fleeting wishes, she wouldn’t confess anything. “I’m from southern California. I wanted to get away from home for a while. You know—have an adventure.”

  The man’s mouth fell open. “Listen…” He rubbed the bridge between his eyes. “I’m all for adventures, within reason of course, but you can’t stay here. We’re booked solid. Do you have a change of clothes? Are you at all prepared for what Alaska can be like?”

  “Not really. I guess I didn’t come very prepared.” She shrugged her shoulders. What was she supposed to say? ‘I’m the California girl with a bag full of aloha wear, a couple bikinis, sexy lingerie and a couple sex toys’?

  He already looked at her with disdain. She didn’t need to add to her list of crimes.

  He eyed at her as though she might be a stray dog without a home. “I’ll get you something dry to wear. My mom and s
ister have clothes they keep here for when they visit. Then we’ll talk about someplace else you can go for the night,” he said.

  “Yes, please. Thank you.” Wait a second. There was a hint of that condescending tone again. She wasn’t a stray or a charity case. She had plenty of money. “I can pay. In fact, I can pay you double. I just didn’t bring a lot of clothes. Other than…well, basically just myself.”

  “I’ll be right back.” He stood up. His height filled the space around her, making her feel small. “Sit tight.”

  Sabrina nodded and watched Zak depart from the room. A whoosh of air left her lungs with his exit. If there were no rooms vacant, what was she supposed to do? She pulled out her cell phone and skimmed through the contacts. Who could she call to get her out of this mess? Janis, her father’s campaign manager, would know what to do. Sabrina’s finger stopped before she pressed the call button.

  She glanced around the three-story high log bungalow. The smell of pine and something minty infused her senses. Surely there was somewhere she could sleep in this huge place. If the hunters were gone, she could just borrow one of their rooms, couldn’t she? Zak wasn’t going to let her freeze or starve. She resolved herself to a no-tears policy and determined she’d find a way out of this conundrum without calling Janis.

  Recalling the green-gray of Zak’s eyes and his scruffy beard stubble, she knew there was a softer side to him. Maybe it was her sixth sense kicking in, but something in her gut told her she’d made the right decision by flying to Alaska. Her premonitions had never been wrong before.

  CHAPTER 2

  For most residents of Gold Creek, any woman was a welcome sight. Zak begged to differ. What kind of woman wore a skirt and flip-flops with barely a windbreaker for warmth in Alaska at the end of September? Her toenails were painted pink along with her fingernails, and her middle toe sported a swirly gold ring. Sure sign of a high-maintenance woman who spelled trouble.

  He found a pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt among his little sister’s things. Holding them up, he decided they were probably too small, but he gathered them up anyway. Without knowing her foot size, he didn’t grab appropriate footwear; plus, if he was being honest, he kind of liked seeing her toe ring. But sexy toe ring or not, he had to decide what to do with the woman.

  He should send her packing, but somehow he just couldn’t. Something in those pale blue eyes drew him in. The first clue that he wasn’t making sound decisions was his babbling about her reservation. He knew damn well she didn’t have a reservation, but he’d asked her anyway. He had been looking forward to the week at the lodge all by himself. He planned to study any and all kinds of marketing plans he could find—they needed new business to get his loan for the snowmobiles paid off. Everyone in the family was depending on him to get this done.

  When he returned to his current guest, she was wiping her cheeks with the backs of her hands. Uncertain whether the wetness was rainwater or tears, a jolt of sympathy pierced him. Wet tendrils of blonde hair stuck to her neck, a pointy chin framed full pouty lips. He couldn’t send her to the only other available housing in town, a bed and breakfast owned by crazy Betsy Randall. He didn’t have the heart to do that to her. Or did he? Either way, he doubted she had rooms available either. This part of the state was founded on gold mining, but now moose were a much larger commodity than gold. People came to Alaska’s interior during moose hunting season from every corner of the world.

  “I have dry clothes for you.” He gestured down the hallway. “If you take a left through that doorway, there’s a bathroom for you to change.”

  She stood and took the clothes from his hands. Her fingers brushed lightly against his, and he felt a zing of wanting. For a woman who looked like a drowned cat, she buzzed with sex appeal. Her blue eyes peeked out from behind wet bangs. She was probably the sexiest woman to set foot in Gold Creek for years. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was whether he was going to accommodate her need for lodging for the night.

  Obviously, she was distraught about something. Cook always had snacks available for the guests as they arrived; maybe she was hungry? Maybe they could discuss possible options for her lack of accommodations over food. “I’ll get you something to eat,” he said.

  “That’s very kind, Zak.”

  The way she said his name reverberated in his head. The melodic sound of her voice sent tremors through his brain. “Ham and cheese sandwich okay?” You never knew if these lower forty-eighters were vegetarians or vegans.

  “Sure, but only light or fat-free mayo. If you don’t have either of those on hand, just leave it dry.” She strode down the hall, swaying her hips, the flopping sound of her shoes hitting her heels with each step.

  He stood staring after her, wondering how one of those hips would feel under his hands. She called back to him over her shoulder: “Actually, mustard is fine, though.”

  Great. A freaking princess. He was surprised she didn’t ask for bread with no carbs. She rounded the corner and he let out a long breath. Hell would freeze over the day they carried fat-free mayo at the lodge.

  Zak glanced at the roller bag she’d left on the couch. The top was left open a couple inches and curiosity got the better of him. She was upset about something, and it wasn’t the room availability at the lodge. She’d been upset before he’d told her they had no rooms. He shuffled his feet to get a closer look. Delicate white sequined lace filled the gap in the unzipped bag. Lifting the top, he peered at what looked like a wedding dress.

  Zak stared for a split second before walking quickly to the kitchen. He tried to concentrate on making the sandwich, but his thoughts drifted to the bag and the white lacy fabric. Was it a wedding gown or just a fancy white cocktail dress? He knew better than to nose around in other people’s business, and the goal was not to discover more about her, just to find her a room for the night.

  He added lettuce and mustard to the sandwich, grabbed a bottle of water, and called it good. The faster she ate, the faster he’d escort her to Betsy’s or at least call Betsy to ask if she had a room. Otherwise, there were no other options for lodging. He used a purple paper plate left over from the prior weekend’s corporate retreat.

  Sabrina stood before the fire warming her hands. She wore Fiona’s sweatpants and too-tight tee shirt. He set the plate and bottled water on the large stone step in front of the fire.

  She stared at the sandwich for a moment, not saying a word.

  He couldn’t understand her cryptic expression. “I didn’t put any mayo on it.”

  Her breathing came more rapidly.

  Was the woman such a princess that a sandwich upset her? “We don’t have fat-free mayo. You said mustard was okay,” he said.

  Tears welled in her blue eyes. “No, the sandwich is perfect.”

  He knew better—knew better—than to ask, but the words jumped out of this mouth anyway. “Then what’s the matter?”

  Sabrina slumped down into the leather sofa and held her hands over her face. “I’ve flown for fourteen hours. I was so intent on getting here. I’m sorry—I’m just tired.”

  After flying all that way, of course she was tired. And a teary-eyed female got him every time. His little sister knew just how to push his buttons—she could cry on cue. This woman was no different. Was she worried about where she’d stay the night? “I can find a room for you,” he blurted without thinking, anything to make her stop crying. “You can’t have one of the paying guest rooms, but my brother Ethan only lives here part-time. You can have his room. Besides, he’s not here right now. He’s guiding a group of hunters.”

  “I know I’m supposed to be here.” She wiped a tear off her cheek. “I get these feelings sometimes. My best friend Melody says I have bits, moments—she says, of psychic abilities.”

  Zak held up his hands. “Whoa…whoa.”

  He didn’t want her crying, but he didn’t want a nutcase on his hands either. He wasn’t surprised she was from California. Lots of wackos lived there. Especially in southern
California. “I’ll make sure you have a room.” Just for tonight.

  A little waif of a woman from California, up here without a reservation, wearing flip-flops—no, she wasn’t crazy at all. He nodded his head as though offering some kind of reassurance to her. Oh yes, of course you made the right choice flying to rural Alaska with no reservations and no decent clothing.

  “If your brother won’t mind, I’ll gladly accept his room.” The lines across her damp brow appeared a little less stressed.

  Ethan could be gone for a week, maybe longer, but Zak was planning to send her on the next plane back to La-La Land. “It’s not a problem. He won’t mind.”

  “I’d love to hear more about this place and how you built it,” she said.

  He raised a brow and sat down beside her. Now she was talking his language. The lodge was a safe subject, but before he could speak, she said, “Just so you know. It’s not the sandwich that’s upsetting me, or the fact that you don’t have any rooms.” She took a tissue from her purse and blew her nose. “It’s actually the violet color of the paper plate.”

  New determination sunk in to get this woman on the next plane out of here. He’d just offered her Ethan’s room. What was he thinking?

  “I—I just remembered, I need to make a phone call before it gets much later,” she stammered. “Do you mind?”

  “Sure.” She didn’t need to ask his permission.

  She scooted to the other end of the couch. “I’ll make it quick. I promise.”

  “Take all the time you need.” He’d check on the state of Ethan’s room. He stood up.

  She held the phone to her ear but mouthed the words don’t leave to him.

  Guess he was staying. No point in provoking her flaky unpredictability. He sat back down, picked up a hunting magazine, and flipped through the pages while he waited for Miss Fat-Free Mayo to finish her phone call.