by Sasha Gold
She crawled into bed, her damp hair making her shiver. “I’m freezing. I can’t even feel my toes.”
“That’s too bad.”
“Your sympathy is overwhelming.”
“You can have my socks if you want to. I’ve already got them warmed up.”
“I don’t know about that. How long have you been wearing them?”
“I put them on just before dinner. They’re yours if you want them.”
She sat up in bed and peered into the darkness. He’d been teasing her since they’d gotten home and discovered the children asleep with a lit candle. The teasing was his way of getting her to think of something other than possible catastrophes, but his tone now sounded different. While he gloated about his socks, his voice held a rough edge she hadn’t heard before.
“If you want them, you have to come and ask me for them.”
A breath whooshed from her lungs. Her skin tingled. If only she could see his expression, she might be able to guess what he meant.
She swung her legs over the bed and sat on the edge. “Ask you?”
“That’s right.”
“Okay. Can I have your socks?”
“Come here and ask me.”
Moving slowly in the dark, she reached for the edge of his bed and crawled toward the sound of his voice. “Where are you?”
“Here.”
She stopped. “May I-”
“No. I was going to give them to you, but I changed my mind.”
“You rat.” She laughed softly.
“Sucker.”
“I’m going to get frostbite and you don’t even care, do you?”
“Maybe a little. You do have cute toes.”
“Clay, I’m desperate.”
He chuckled, low and sexy. “I like you desperate.”
“What do you want for those socks?”
“Well I could tell you exactly what I wanted and have you would run like a scared rabbit, or I could let you make me an offer.”
She gave a breathless laugh. “I don’t know what to say.”
He tugged her down to the bed so she faced him. “First of all, why don’t you tell me what’s got you so frightened?”
She felt him shift, and in the shadows, could make out that he was sitting up. A moment later he put his socks on her and it was such a simple gesture, but it made her defenses weaken. This man could be the most infuriating beast or the sweetest teddy bear. He lay beside her, lying on his side, propped on his elbow.
“It’s just a dumb thing. I can’t explain it. I get these panicky feelings that come out of nowhere.”
“Like panic attacks?”
“Not exactly. More like a feeling like something’s about to happen.”
“Do you get them here?”
“No. Mostly in crowds. They started when I got mugged. My mother and I were in New York, on the subway. I was ten.”
“You got hurt?”
“No, but my mother did. He hit her. She fell. I kept screaming, hoping someone would do something, but everyone just backed away. He was huge. He grabbed her purse and disappeared.”
“Baby,” he said softly. “That’s terrible.”
“Nobody helped us. I remember seeing the blood on my mother’s blouse. She was unconscious. An ambulance came and we went to the hospital. She didn’t wake up for the longest time. I kept wondering what would happen if she died. When she woke up, she didn’t remember anything about what happened. We left New York I guess. She never talks about it and I don’t know if she even remembers. But I do.”
She paused, taking in the quiet night, the sound of Clay's slow, steady breathing.
“I feel better here in the cabin than I have since I can remember.”
The realization came over her almost as she said the words aloud. She did feel better. Their life was in a precarious balance. Just that evening she’d realized the danger of a single, unattended candle. Every day held danger and uncertainty. Yet she moved through her days with a calmness that seemed entirely new.
“I’m sorry that happened to you.”
His voice was gentle and soothed her in a way she hadn’t expected.
“It’s dumb to still get so freaked out by something that happened over ten years ago. My roommate at school was a brilliant artist. A painter. She was a refugee. All she’d known her whole life was war. When she told me what she’d lived through, I couldn’t believe how she could even function and not only did she survive, she thrived.”
He sighed heavily. “People are wired differently. I saw plenty of that in the military.”
“Like you?” she said quietly.
“I guess I’m wired differently. I don’t know.”
“You seem pretty even-keeled. Crash-landing a plane and acting like it was no big deal.”
“Yeah, I went through so much training, stuff like that just puts me into a zone and I do everything automatically. But I saw enough shit while I was in uniform that I have situations I can handle, but don’t like. That’s for damn sure.”
“Like what?”
“Crowds. That’s a big one. Too many people. That’s why I like the outdoors. There are no crowds in the Alaskan wilderness.”
She rolled over to face him. “Is this crowded?”
“The cabin?”
“No, the bed. Should I go to my bed?”
“Stay here, Victoria.”
“Here in this bed?”
“Next to me. I promise not to bite. And I promise I’d never hurt you.”
“I know. I’m starting to think you’re a good guy.” She closed the distance between them and let him pull her close to him. She lay her head on his shoulder and shivered from the warmth coming from his body. The warmth spread through her, melting the tension from her shoulders. Her eyelids grew heavy and soon she fell fast asleep.
Chapter Ten
Clay
Clay battled with his own thoughts throughout the night, fighting off the inner wild animal that wanted to hold Victoria down, pin her hands above her head and devour her completely. When she nestled closer, he’d awaken and groan with frustration. His cock was steel. His balls ached. What he wanted was to press her back to the blankets and strip her bare. He’d start with her shirt and would unbutton each little button one at a time.
The buttons were the fussy type, covered with material and about the size of a damned grain of rice. He might end up tearing the silken shirt clean off her and yanking her pants down. The ideas that flooded his mind made him certain he could never claim her. If he ever took one step down that path, his need to dominate and own her would only frighten her.
As the sun rose he watched her face, allowing himself to touch her petal-soft skin. If Victoria had a little experience, she still would be overwhelmed by his ferocious desire for her, and if she were a virgin…
Then he’d probably terrify her.
As he dozed, half-awake, an idea formed in his mind He could simply ask her to marry him and then she’d be stuck with him. The idea made him smile. They already lived a lot like a husband and wife, along with two annoying children.
When he’d come up with the scheme to surprise her in Napa, he’d been infatuated. In the time they’d spent together, his feelings for her had deepened. He was certain her feelings for him had grown stronger as well. When he’d tease her about something, her gaze lingered a little longer. Her gestures and expressions had grown so familiar he imagined he knew what she was thinking.
She sighed in his arms and shifted gently to nestle deeper into him. Unable to resist, he leaned over and brushed a kiss across her cheek, pausing for an instant to inhale. Her skin smelled like lavender. Maybe it was some sort of cream she used, or maybe that was her natural scent. His gaze drifted to her sweetly parted lips.
He left her, reluctantly, and sat on the side of the bed. It was barely light, but it was already close to eight. Dawn came later each morning. Yesterday Sydney proclaimed she’d missed so much school, she would probably fail her seventh gra
de.
This was the morning of the twentieth day. They hadn’t heard or seen a single aircraft.
He walked into the kitchen and passed Charlie, who didn’t stir. Clay stoked the fire in the stove and made himself a cup of instant coffee. The first few days of living in the cabin, he’d hated the flavor. It tasted like field coffee, which he supposed in a way it was.
One thing he didn’t need to worry about was having enough food to survive the winter. Whoever owned the cabin had stocked it with enough food to last them years. The calendar hanging on the wall hadn’t been changed since May, making him wonder if the owners would return next May. Wouldn’t that be a surprise. For all of them.
Hopefully the guy wouldn’t arrive guns blazing. He shook his head at his cynical thinking.
Now he was imagining worst-case scenarios like Victoria. But that’s what he was trained to do, to go into situations knowing that it might all go to hell. For Victoria this was just the way she lived her life. He smiled inside thinking she might have been a better soldier than him.
The owners of the cabin had to get here by sea plane, so at least there would be a little warning. And the lake was almost completely frozen over. No one was coming by sea plane until late spring.
Clay had found some maps in the closet of his bedroom. Old, yellowed, hand-drawn maps. One looked like it was of the lake, and the surroundings. It showed the cabin and the long, narrow shape of the lake. At the opposite end of the lake was a single written word. “Otis”. He didn’t think it was a town. More like someone’s home. But if the map was drawn to scale, the home was close to thirty miles away. As much as he wanted to set out on his own, he worried about leaving Victoria and the children. And he’d promised her he wouldn’t. There was that too.
He wandered into the pantry to survey the selection. What he wouldn’t give for a four-egg omelet stuffed with sautéed spinach, mushrooms and swiss cheese, but the powdered eggs and jarred mushrooms just didn’t do the trick. The children were starting to complain about pancakes and canned fruit. And he was starting to hate seeing rectangular slabs of ham.
They were coming into the beginning of October, which meant the end of the Silver Salmon season, but the Red or Sockeye might be running strong. The owner of the cabin, along with a small arsenal, had fishing poles with some decent fly-fishing lures.
Charlie moved around the den and Clay went to the door to let him out. Snow had fallen in the night and the dog always seemed particularly joyful for the fresh, undisturbed snowfall. He bounded off the porch, and tore away in search of adventure. Clay didn’t worry about the dog during the day and allowed him to roam freely. Charlie always stayed close to the cabin. Only at night did Clay keep him on a leash. He worried about wolves luring the youngster away and attacking him.
He watched the dog playing happily in the snow. That evening they’d have something other than tinned meat for dinner. He’d plan an outing for all of them. They might complain, but they’d change their tune when they had fresh fish for dinner.
That afternoon, he had Victoria and the children along with Charlie, trekking behind him. They hiked a mile across the frozen terrain to the river he and Ross discovered. Between what everyone had packed in suitcases and what was stored in the cabin closets, they’d cobbled together outdoor clothing for all of them.
Victoria wore a Russian-style hat, fur-lined with flaps that could be worn down or tied back. It was too big for her but she managed to make it work by tucking her hair inside. A few wavy wisps had escaped and framed her pretty face. He’d only seen men wear the winter hat. But Victoria managed to make it look feminine. Gorgeous.
The boy was pleased to fish. The girl, less so, and Victoria mostly scanned the horizon for wolves or bears or knowing her, maybe charging rhinos.
“Nothing’s going to bother us during the day,” he said. “I have my rifle. If we see wolves, I’ll shoot over them and scare them off.”
“What about polar bears?”
“They won’t come around until it gets colder.”
“And we’ll be long gone by then,” Sydney chimed in. “Living in civilization. With cell-phones and Instagram.”
“And homework,” Ross grumbled.
“And manicures and pedicures,” Victoria added. “And yoga… hot yoga.”
Clay lowered his voice so only she could hear. “Isn’t all yoga hot?”
She smiled at him and blushed, her cheeks blooming to a soft pink. He’d never seen her blush before and made something inside him twist. He fought the urge to tuck her under his arm so he could feel her by his side. The children, he imagined, would be horrified if he showed Victoria any affection. As far as they were concerned the two adults got along well enough, but the possibility of romance between them hovered around zero.
“Are we really going to have salmon for dinner?” she asked, coming to his side.
He frowned. “Salmon if we’re lucky, but there’s other fish we can catch too.”
“I wondered if you were a catch-and-release fisherman.”
Scoffing, he shook his head. “I don’t even know what catch-and-release means.”
She gave him a sassy smile. “So salmon for dinner then.”
He glanced at the children who were busy talking to Charlie.
“That’s right, Victoria.” His tone roughened. “I always eat what I catch.”
They walked along the river until they reached the perfect bend in the stream. Clay set his rifle aside and gave his short introduction to fly-fishing, the one he’d given a thousand times before.
Sydney wasn’t interested and brushed the snow from a fallen tree. Instead of fishing, she sat and sketched. She grinned at Clay. “I’d like to make a request for fish sticks.”
“You catch some fish sticks, and I will cook them up and even make tartar sauce,” Clay said.
“When I catch my first salmon, we need to come up with a new move for our secret handshake,” Ross called to him.
“Sure,” Clay said, noting Victoria’s curious gaze.
He shrugged and returned his attention to his casting. Ross thought the events of their daily life required a move to be incorporated into a handshake that only the two of them knew. When they found a cache of deadwood close to the bonfire, he insisted on the ax-chop handshake be added to the other moves. If they found a new type of track in the snow, that event needed to be included too. The handshake already had five moves and Ross showed no sign of slowing down.
The afternoon passed with the peace and quiet that a river always offered. The water pooled in the bend, its depths dark and impenetrable even when the sun came out from behind a cloud. Water flowed over rocks on the far side of the stream, rolling and rushing, topped with small white-capped waves.
The snow lay deep and undisturbed, Charlie’s favorite kind, and twice he rustled up a small animal. A Marten and a rabbit. He chased them but not for long. For the most part, he inspected the river banks, wading into the icy shallows and staring into the water with an expression of amazement any time a fish swam past.
Sydney watched the dog’s puzzled face and snorted. “Fart wants to fish.”
“Charlie loves salmon,” Clay said.
By the time the sun was sinking towards the trees they had three fish. Clay quit after he caught one, so he could coach the others. Ross reeled in two beauties. Victoria finished up the day empty-handed but everyone traipsed back to the cabin in good spirits.
In the soft, waning sunshine, the children and Victoria tossed snowballs at each other. Clay carried poles and supplies and stayed out of the fray, but when a snowball narrowly missed Charlie, he announced the leave-the-dog-out-of-it rule.
“Yeah,” Ross agreed. “It’s not like he can lob one back at any of us.”
“Right.”
“Yes, sir, Captain Bergstrom, sir.” Sydney said from behind him.
“Damn straight. You better behave yourself, especially you girls. Neither of you caught a fish, and if you want the men to share, you’l
l need to drum up your best sweet-talk.”
Clay knew Ross would love that sort of statement, especially being referred to as a man. His sister bullied and browbeat him every chance she got. The scrawny girl could put him in a headlock in the blink of an eye and would keep him there until Clay or Victoria intervened or Ross’s yelping got too much.
Behind him, Ross snickered.
Clay smiled at the boy’s amusement and considered other ways to tease the girls when a snowball smacked the back of his head. He stopped in his tracks and growled as the icy clumps fell down the back of his shirt collar. Turning slowly, he glared at the three, standing on the trail.
Ross shook his head and opened his mouth like a gaping fish. He snapped it shut. Sydney, walking behind him, carried her sketch pad in one hand, a pencil bag in the other. She gave him a blasé look and shrugged. Bringing up the rear was Victoria, trying her best to look innocent. She bit her lip to keep from grinning and tilted her head Sydney’s direction.
“Nope, don’t blame me girlfriend,” Sydney said.
“She’s got her hands full,” Clay said.
“We might need another rule here. Don’t blame others for the snowball you threw.” Sydney muttered.
“Do we need a rule number four?” he asked.
The three spoke at the same time, declaring a fourth rule unnecessary.
“We’ll behave,” Ross assured him.
“Most of the time,” Victoria added.
Clay gave Victoria a pointed look and resumed his trek on the path. With each step, the fragments of the snowball, tumbled further down his back until they came to a stop at his waist. They melted, soaking the denim under his belt.
He didn’t stand for insubordination and had ways of dealing with unruliness. He imagined all the wicked things he’d like to do to her. It was late. Twilight. It would be dark in a half hour. He smiled as he thought about being alone with her after the children had gone to sleep. Last night he’d vowed to keep his distance from Victoria. He wouldn’t seduce her, but there were other ways to make her pay for her snowball stunt.
Chapter Eleven
