I finally cleared my throat. When that failed to get their attention, I slapped my hand down on the picnic table. “Ed’s coming with me on my barge run tomorrow,” I said. “What else can I do to figure out who stole my nugget?”
Helly shrugged. “Ask around tonight.”
“Yes, I’m doing that next. Just wanted to make sure I had all of my bases covered before you two get too carried away. I remember what happened at that last picnic.”
Helly didn’t have the decency to blush. She smiled at me lazily. “My brothers are coming out from town tomorrow,” she said.
I leaned back, doing my best to look innocent. Instead, I probably looked guilty as fuck. “Are they?” I asked breezily, as if I’d forgotten.
In fact, I had a date with them. Sorta. I’d asked them to come cut down the big old cottonwood that was leaning precariously over my cabin.
Helly’s brothers and I had started off on the wrong foot as kids—they’d broken my stuff and menaced me with creepy-crawlies—but last summer, I’d seen them for the first time in ten years. I’d found out that Zack and Rory had grown up, and they’d done it very, very well.
I’d flirted with them at Helly’s barbecue, had found myself staring at their big, capable hands, imagined them sliding across my skin. They were big guys, and when my mind painted us into a bed, naked, they dwarfed me in the best possible way.
The bottom line was: After watching Helly and Gary together for a whole freaking year, I was ready to have some fun of my own. I knew the brothers would only be out for a couple weeks. And, even if nothing permanent came of being the cream filling in their Golden Oreo—such as a relationship, or love—I wanted to enjoy them.
That’s right: ‘Them’. I was a free-thinking woman, and I hadn’t really been able to choose between the two. I’d read some of Helly’s ménage stories, and… I wanted them both. In a purely sexual, purely hedonistic way. Hopefully they were into that.
“I heard they’re going over to your place tomorrow night,” Helly said.
I made a noncommittal sound. I tried to stop my eyes from shifting around, but must have failed because Gary chuckled.
“Suzy, I’ve warned you once, but since you’re my friend, I’m going to warn you again: They are nothing but trouble. They destroy things. They’ll break your shit and make you cry. Just like they did when you were twelve. It’s what they do. Is that worth—possibly—getting a couple orgasms, to you?”
I felt a blush rising as I realized she’d seen right through my leaning-tree façade. Maybe if I stayed matter-of-fact, I could get through this.
“Helly, your brothers are hot,” I said. “How much trouble can they get up to in a couple hours? I’ll be there the whole time, and even if something happens between us, I won’t let them spend the night.” But maybe they could help me on the barge, not tomorrow, but in the next week. It’d give me an opportunity to see them again…
“I still think you’re making a mistake,” she said coolly.
“Noted.”
She sighed. “Fine. Go figure out who took your gold nugget. I’ll keep my ears open on the river. I’m going to make out with Gary now.”
“Ugh, fine.”
They started in on each other before I’d even jumped to my feet, and I cast them a baleful parting glance. It would have been fine if I’d had a kissing partner of my own, but I didn’t. My last boyfriend had been over a year ago, and we barely made it past second base before I discovered his dirty secret and had to let him go.
I hesitated, looking out over the party. Should I be calling the Troopers? It was an expensive shiny rock, one I wanted back. Oh, I wasn’t over a barrel or hard-up or anything, but $100,000 was more than I’d ever held in my hand at one time before. More than I’d ever had in my bank account. Heck, it was probably twice what my cabin was worth. It was a sum one didn’t sniff at, nor dismiss.
I really wanted to get that nugget back. But I really didn’t want to call the Troopers.
So I stepped down from the deck, and began asking questions.
Chapte
r Two
I met Ed at my dock bright and early the next morning. Punctual, I added to my mental catalog.
I had just finished getting everything prepped up when he pulled in. He tied his camouflage-painted boat off, and walked toward me. I stood on the beach next to my loading ramp, and as he stepped down from the dock, I sized him up.
He was an unassuming guy, not too tall, not too short. He didn’t creep, nor did he swagger. His one outstanding feature, I supposed, was his hair, of which there was a lot. He had a hat on, crushing it down, but dark brown strands still poked out around his ears.
And then he had the fullest, bushiest beard I’d ever seen. I suppose beard enthusiasts might even call it luxurious.
I wasn’t a beard enthusiast. I thought he looked like he had an animal stuck to his face.
I moved my eyes up to his as he approached.
“Mornin’,” he said, pausing in front of me with a lunch box in one hand.
“Good morning. Thank you so much. I really, really appreciate you coming along. I was in one helluva bind, and I’m incredibly grateful…”
He nodded, watching me as I talked, and I couldn’t be real sure of his expression, because I couldn’t quite make out his mouth behind his facial hair. But I thought he was smiling, because his eyes started to crinkle up as I reached the end of my profuse thanks.
“It’s no problem. Really. Where should I put this?” he asked, holding up his lunch.
I showed him to the little cabin at the back of the boat. It was a small, raised room that housed the controls and offered some protection from the weather, while still allowing a 360 degree view out the windows. I had Ed set his cooler down in the corner opposite mine, and hurried to pull out a chair for him. It wasn’t extreme luxury, but the camp chair did recline.
Instead of sitting down, Ed looked at me. “How can I help?”
I was so used to dealing with a teenage boy that I got a little thrill at his proactive manner. “I’ve got it,” I said, “but thank you. Please, have a seat, take a nap. We’re going in empty this morning, except for the fuel drums. So the work doesn’t really begin till the landing.”
He nodded, but stood watching me as I untied the big boat and got the ropes neatly stowed. I winched up the ramp at the front, and secured it. Then I climbed back into the cabin with him and fired up the engines. Their deep roar broke the silence of the early-morning river. I turned the wheel to swing the back end of the big boat upriver, and then put the 33’ barge in reverse. Giving it a little gas, I pulled us smoothly away from the bank.
Captaining a barge wasn’t the usual occupation of a woman out here in the Alaskan bush. Usually we got stuck with things like housekeeping, or cooking. I’d looked, briefly, into becoming a masseuse and operating out of my parents’ lodge in the summers. But then my brother had decided he was done barging, and his slot opened up. I’d jumped on the opportunity, and Jimmie’s help had made it possible.
I turned downstream and throttled us smoothly up on step, aware of Ed standing, dark and silent, next to me. The roar of the engines didn’t really invite conversation, and I was busy with my eyes ahead, reading the water and looking for debris.
The river was a few feet deep on average, but some spots were fifteen feet, while others measured only an inch or two. Sandbars lurked just under the surface—and it was always a surprise when you hit one going about thirty miles per hour. The water was opaque gray with silt, so those submerged sandbars were impossible to see, unless you noticed a subtle rippling to the surface… Sometimes it was a feeling you got, more than anything else.
As to debris, sticks and logs were constantly being washed downstream, and hitting one could mess up my day—and my boat—in a hurry. The water wasn’t particularly junky today, but we were supposed to get heavy rains off and on in the next week. Heavy rains caused the water to rise, and when it did, debris increased exponentially,
making the river a veritable obstacle course.
When we were well underway, I settled onto my tall, swiveling captain’s chair. Ed stood looking out the front window for several minutes before settling down into his own chair. He leaned back and pulled his hat low over his eyes.
I took the opportunity to shamelessly examine him. He’d unzipped his orange float coat, so I could see the slow rise and fall of his chest in the gap. He wore a red-and-black checked shirt, another flannel button-down that draped over his flat stomach. His hands, laced there, appeared to be no strangers to work. They were rough with calluses and scars, but clean. His pants were in a similar state; sturdy, dun-colored canvas stretched over solid thighs, the ragged hems ending at utilitarian leather boots.
As Ed slept, I turned my attention back to the river. It was a couple hundred feet wide, with sandy gray shores and tall, gnarled cottonwoods standing like sentinels to either side. I saw six bald eagles, and waved my good mornings to at least as many familiar faces in the next two hours. The sun rose high enough to peep through the treetops, and flicker in my windows.
The fuel truck was already waiting when we pulled in to the landing. Ed helped me tie off the barge, and when I started uncapping the 55 gallon drums, Ed joined in, again without having to be asked. We quickly got the fuel guy squared away filling up my drums with diesel.
I slanted a look at Ed. “Can you hang out here while I go get Manny’s truck? He’s got it parked up there with several lengths of well pipe on a trailer.”
“Sure,” Ed said.
I nodded, pulled Manny’s keys out of my pocket, and hopped over the side. The flatbed with the cabin kit passed me as I climbed the hill up to the parking lot.
There was a store next to the gate that sold everything from parking passes to cold drinks to live bait. I noticed a shiny SUV parked out front, its trailer angled in a way that blocked traffic. On the trailer was a big, shiny new jet boat, complete with maroon canvas canopy.
I ducked into the store and headed straight to the coolers in the back. It was as I was perusing the cold beverages—I’d wanted a Coke, but upon seeing the variety available, of course I became indecisive—that I became aware of a raised voice.
“$200 for two weeks’ worth of parking? Who the hell do you think you are?” a woman at the front of the store demanded.
I grabbed two sodas and started walking slowly toward the registers, not really wanting to get involved.
“$200 to leave my car in this dust bowl you call a parking lot? You’ve gotta be smoking dope. It’s a Mercedes,” she hissed, “and you want me to leave it in the dirt?”
Through the Slim Jims beside the register, I caught a glimpse of the cashier’s face. Nathan. He was young, his skin speckled with acne, his mouth open as he shifted nervously from foot to foot. “Ma’am, I don’t set the prices. I’m not on drugs, and yes, the entirety of our lot is dirt.”
The woman came into view as I rounded an endcap full of peanuts. She had black hair slicked back into a ponytail, big hoop earrings, and a fuzzy sweater hugging an hourglass figure. I stared at her legging-wrapped butt a moment, not quite sure when last I’d seen a rounder one, and so clearly, too.
“Well, there’s gotta be another landing, right? Another way to get on the river?” Her tone was impatient, her hands on her hips.
Nathan shook his head. “No, ma’am. This is the only one. I mean, there are a couple state parks with boat ramps farther up the highway, but they’re just for camping. There’s no long-term parking…” His voice broke and then trailed off, quelled by whatever he saw on her face. Nathan was beginning to sweat.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” she said. “You’re telling me this overpriced dump, manned by a child, is the only way to get on the river.”
Oh, I really hadn’t wanted to get involved, but this was an injustice, this bitchy Outsider picking on an innocent kid.
“Leave him alone,” I said.
She spun around to glare at me, turning the brunt of her holy fury my way. Her face was unnaturally perfect, her skin clear, the lines of her brows artificially sharp. She was beautiful, but she was also fake as a three dollar bill.
I stared right back, ignoring the fact that she was bigger than me. Everybody was bigger than me. “If you don’t like the prices, leave,” I said. “It’s that simple. In fact, the river’d be the better for it. We don’t want you and your attitude here. So take your Mercedes, and your big shiny boat, and scurry back to town.”
The woman sucked in a big lungful of air, and I knew she was prepping to unleash hell, when Clea, the manager, stepped up from the side. “Is there a problem here?” she asked.
The bitch wheeled around and railed at her about her prices, her dirt, her stupid employees, and her stupider customers.
Clea glanced over at me. I shrugged. Not my fault.
“Here, come into my office and we’ll talk,” Clea said, and led the unreasonable woman away.
A blond man detached himself from a nearby display—I hadn’t even noticed he was there, but as he passed me I realized he had one of the prettiest faces I’d ever seen on a guy—and trailed after her. He had a taut, muscular body that I couldn’t help but appreciate as he sauntered away.
I set my drinks on the counter. “You get people like that often?” I asked.
Nathan shook his head, and rang me up.
When I drove down, the fuel truck was just finishing up. I pulled Manny’s trailer behind the building supply truck, who was waiting for his turn. Ed and Avery’s guy already had most of a load of alcohol stacked up against the drums of diesel.
“This okay?” Ed asked.
“Perfect,” I said, handing him one of the drinks.
We got everything loaded up by 11 a.m., and then started the slower, heavier trip back up the river. The sun was climbing in the sky and things had warmed up considerably, so Ed carted his chair out onto an empty sliver of deck. He reclined in the sunshine as we cruised back upstream.
I scanned ahead continuously, but my eyes kept getting drawn back to Ed’s riffling hair. Ed was interesting. He was quietly competent, which in my book was one of the highest recommendations you could give a man. He was laid-back; he didn’t seem to have any issue whatsoever letting me drive the boat. Truly, he seemed to get more attractive with every passing hour. Even his beard…
Nah, his beard is still scary, I thought with a grin. But I had no idea why I’d never noticed him before.
The Fremonts’ place was our first stop. Wayne and Shelly Fremont met us on the shore. I lowered my ramp, and we unloaded the cabin kit onto their property. It was nice when the people I delivered to had heavy machinery—bulldozers, forklifts, trucks—but more often, they didn’t. That’s why I had Jimmie, to help me carry an entire cabin, one piece at a time.
But Ed seemed to be working quite well in his stead. He stripped out of his float coat, rolled up his sleeves, and went to work with a smile. He easily handled multiple sheets of plywood, hefting them against one shoulder, and gracefully made his way to shore without thwacking anyone—which was the hard part.
Shelly and Wayne were new to the area, and I took the opportunity, after we had the cabin kit unloaded, to chat them up. They were a trucker and a hairdresser, and had saved up enough money to move to Alaska and change their way of life.
“What’s the deal with the boat motor?” Ed asked, nodding toward one mounted on a sawhorse, its plastic casing removed.
Wayne made a sound of frustration. “We bought it used, and it barely worked for a day. I’ve been trying to figure out what’s wrong with it.”
“Mind if I take a look?” Ed was already walking that way.
“Please do.”
“Is that your only boat motor?” I asked.
Wayne nodded, his eyes on Ed.
“And how long’s it been broken?”
“Almost a week.”
I made sympathetic noises while I noted that they couldn’t be my gold nugget thieves if they hadn’t h
ad transportation.
While the men bent over the engine, Shelly told me about their adventures thus far living in a tent. The conversation wandered to work, and hair.
“I love the color of yours,” she said. “It’s such a beautiful golden brown. And that natural curl…” I saw in her eyes she was thinking of sproinging one of my curls, but she managed to resist.
As she explained how layering and thinning shears would work wonders for me, my eyes kept getting drawn back over to Ed. He was standing in a sunbeam.
“Ed’s the one that really needs a cut,” I said.
Shelly nodded. “He has a great beard. It just needs a trim.”
I snorted, thinking maybe if that ‘trim’ were delivered with a weed whacker…
We moved on to the weather—the forecast called for rain tonight. And then I remembered I was having a Passion Party.
“Any interest in coming to a ladies’ get-together?” I asked her. “We’re having a Passion Party at my place on Sunday.” From her expression I could tell that, yeah, she knew what that was. “We’ll be having dinner and wine and conversation. It’s no pressure, you don’t have to buy anything. Mostly I just hold these parties for the female company,” I added.
“I’d love to,” she said, “if we can get that outboard running. Would I need to bring anything?”
“It’s a potluck, but again, no pressure.”
Around the same time I decided that we needed to move on and get the rest of our load delivered, the boat motor roared to life.
Wayne laughed and clapped Ed on the back. “Thank you.”
Ed smiled. “Anytime.”
The Fremonts, delighted with Ed’s work, were still gathered around the engine as we pulled away. “Sunday at five p.m.!” I called to Shelly. She waved, and we moved on upriver.
Next stop: The crates of alcoholic beverages. They were going to a fishing lodge, of course. The fishermen who came out to watch as we unloaded were characteristically jolly, their cheeks and noses pink.
Two Captains, One Chair: An Alaskan Romantic Comedy Page 3
