Chinook, Wine and Sink Her. Morgan Q O'Reilly

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СКАЧАТЬ anyone hand her a beverage without a sealed lid. It was tiresome to always be on guard, which made being alone so much easier. Two weeks? Would he really stay for two whole weeks?

      “I don’t think you hate men, not the way you kiss, but it isn’t just me who makes you jumpy, is it?”

      She turned from the sink to watch him select kindling and logs from the woodpile. “I don’t want to talk about my personality quirks. I asked you earlier about your family story.”

      It was like watching a moving piece of art as he arranged the wood, carefully stacking it over a fire starter. The satisfaction from her fantasy evaporated and she wanted to live the moment live. Unable to tear her eyes away, she watched until he stood, then she focused on the cold tea in her hands. Using great self control, she chose to keep the tea and returned to her seat to drink it.

      “Do you always blush so much?” He chuckled and sat on the other side of the table from her.

      Determined to get their earlier conversation back on track, she ignored the question. “So, Russian and Aleut? I guess I can understand that, but how did you get to the Interior?”

      “Well.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed an ankle over a knee. “My great-great grandmother was the product of a Russian sailor and an Aleut woman. Being half-blood anything in those days wasn’t a good thing, especially since the sailor didn’t stick around.” He held up a hand and used his fingers to keep track of his ancestors.

      “So, she signed on as a cook aboard a fishing vessel where she met a hopeful Swede. When they reached the Yukon Delta, they jumped ship and hiked up the river hoping to gather up handfuls of gold. They staked a claim here and later gathered up claims as they were abandoned, turning them into homestead land until we own from basically here back to what is now the highway. They had a daughter who grew up to marry another Swede. She and her husband moved into Fairbanks and homesteaded there. They had two daughters—one who grew up to marry an Irishman by the name of Willis and the other who married back into the Native world. That aunt is George’s grandmother. His father married another Athabascan, so he’s not anywhere near as handsome as I am.”

      She watched him wink as he ticked off the generations on his long fingers.

      “So those were your grandparents, right?”

      “Right. They homesteaded as well, right alongside her parents and had my dad, the first male child. He married my mother, a good girl of Swedish descent as well, and here I am. I have a younger sister who’s living in Anchorage and trying to forget she was raised in Fairbanks. She has a seven-year-old boy the size of a yearling moose, or a large King salmon, take your pick.”

      The sparkle of affection in his eye eased her nervousness a little. He seemed to have good relations with his family. “And George, the one I’m replacing, is your cousin?”

      “Couple times removed and such, but yeah. We’re family and that’s all that counts. What about you? Where’s your family?”

      “California,” she said with a grimace and stuck out her tongue when he laughed. “Sierras, more or less. Lake Tahoe to be exact.”

      “Brothers? Sisters? Parents?”

      “One brother, two parents.”

      “Names?” he coaxed.

      “I didn’t ask you for names.”

      “I need to know who to contact in the event you get eaten out here.” His gaze drifted down her body again before reluctantly returning to her face.

      She gave him a narrowed eye glare. “Eaten by what?”

      He merely grinned at her and waved for her to continue. “Come on. Tell me about your family. You have an interesting name. It’s a sure bet they do as well.”

      Linnet heaved a sigh and sipped her tea. “My brother’s name is Hawk.” She snuck a glance to see him biting his lip. “Good, don’t laugh. He makes you look small.”

      Creed glanced around. “Is big brother nearby, waiting to pound me into bear bait?”

      “No, little brother is in the Persian Gulf playing SEAL. He may be twice my size, but he’s fourteen months younger. People thought we were twins growing up.”

      “Navy SEAL? I’m impressed.”

      Satisfied he was sincere, she nodded. “I’m proud of him too. He’s been gone a long time and should be home soon. I… I really miss him.” A sip of tea hid the act of swallowing the lump in her throat.

      It had been all she could do not to tell Hawk what had happened with Billy and the following ugliness in general. Hawk had just left, and he would have come home if he’d known. She didn’t want him distracted and worried, so she’d made her mother swear on a stack of Bibles and Farmer’s Almanacs to not tell either Dad or Hawk. Linnet may have wanted to hurt Billy, but she didn’t want him dead. He wasn’t worth anyone going to prison over.

      “What about Mom and Dad?”

      “Dad is retired Navy. A helicopter pilot. These days he flies fire crews in the summers and does the occasional Flight for Life. There’s always a chance he could get called up here if the fire season is bad enough. In the winter, he putters with Mom. He does handyman stuff for elderly neighbors and such. They live simply.”

      “So that explains the proficiency in firearms. And Mom?” Creed prompted. “What does she do?”

      “She was a nurse at the local VA hospital when they met. The old injured hero and the nurse story.” The grin came naturally. “Dad swore it was love the moment he heard her voice and when she told him her name it was merely Fate confirming it. Now she performs as domestic diva, goddess of all things pertaining to garden, hearth, and home.”

      “Oh? And what is her name?”

      “She goes by Missy to the rest of the world, but her real name is White Dove Who Sings in the Nettles. Dad calls her Dove or Dovie.” Linnet couldn’t help the smile. “Those who call us a bird-brained family don’t live long enough to regret it,” she laughed.

      “So you have a touch of Native American in you as well?”

      “A faint whiff of Cherokee. One-thirty-second or some such. Way back. The rest is good old stubborn German and English.”

      “So we have Linnet, a sweet little finch-like bird, fierce brother Hawk, nurturing mother White Dove… where does Father Greenbriar fit in?”

      Linnet sipped from her tea again. There was no escape. “Perry.”

      A confused look clouded his eyes for a moment and then it cleared. “Peregrine. As in the falcon.”

      She nodded. “But no-one uses that name. Perry. Or Falcon from his military days.”

      “I’m sure he wouldn’t get upset at being called Mr. Greenbriar the first time I meet him.”

      “Who says you’ll get to meet him?” She cocked an eyebrow at him. Damned presumptuous of him. “And that would be Captain. In the Navy, that’s the same as an Army Colonel.”

      Caught unawares, СКАЧАТЬ