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

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СКАЧАТЬ didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. It was a joke. I’m sorry.”

      With no netting to shadow her face now, she reluctantly looked up at him. Serious with his apology, his brown eyes shimmered as he stared at her. Their gazes locked. She watched his soften and a smile lit up his whole face.

      “Don’t worry about it.” Could she sound any more insipid or dead? “I’m used to the slams.”

      Creed shook his head slowly. “Not a slam. Just an observation, meant to be friendly teasing.”

      “Fine. Now, if you’ll release me, I do have some work I want to finish up tonight. I hope you won’t object to the sound of my generator for an hour.” Speaking civilly was damn near impossible and the tiny quaver in her voice didn’t help. Torn between wanting to hit him with her best karate chop and wanting to wrap her arms around him, Linnet was desperate to put sanity-restoring distance between them.

      Something of her inner battle must have showed in her eyes because his regard turned curious as his hand slowly uncurled from her bicep. “No, that’s fine. As long as it doesn’t run all night.” The white teeth flashed at her and the return of his easy smile nearly melted her.

      As much to clear her mind as to agree with him, she shook her head. “I enjoy the peace and quiet too much, but I do need the power tonight. I don’t run it every day.” Besides, the generator blocked out sounds she wanted to hear at night. Sounds of bears or other beasts trying to break into the cabin.

      “By the way, you’re very pretty without the hat and netting.”

      Rolling her eyes helped cover the jump of her already thundering pulse. “Most people look better without it. Speaking of,” she batted at the gathering of buzzing insects, “time for me to get this chore done and then get myself inside before they eat me alive. Good night.”

      * * * *

      Dismissed. Again. Twice in one evening. If a guy were emotionally invested it could be a blow to his ego. Had her eyes showed the slightest hint of disgust he probably would have felt offended. Instead he felt challenged. Interest was there, without the netting over her face it had been as clear as the pulse beating at the base of her throat and her faint blush.

      What confused him was the other emotion he’d seen deep in her eyes. Fear? If he wanted to get anywhere with her, it would be best to move slowly. Like he had time to move slowly with not quite two weeks until he was gone again.

      Hands working automatically to start a cooking fire in the concrete fire pit a half dozen yards away and downhill from the slight rise the cabin sat on, he let his mind sort through the fresh memory of her. Like an Alaskan strip tease, she’d removed the hip waders and vest along with the netting to reveal more of the luscious curves he’d guessed were there. The oversized long-sleeved shirt had to go. He wanted to see under it.

      In a face worthy of a super model, she had big, clear, pale green eyes framed by thick lashes and delicately arched brows. Sun had glinted off red highlights in the rich brown hair pulled back into a thick ponytail. Let loose, her hair probably fell to the middle of her back. He’d wanted to pull off the tie holding it back and see.

      The flush of heat across her cheeks had enhanced the high cheekbones, rounded like small apples. And her lips. A man could wax poetic about those lips. Perfectly proportioned and naturally red.

      He’d love to see her smile without restraint, though the little crooked quirk was down-right adorable. Each feature in itself perfect as if sculpted by a master artist.

      But no artist could have captured the beauty of her skin. Marred only by a few mosquito bites, her flesh was lightly tanned. Was the tan limited to her face and hands? Her top hadn’t been unbuttoned enough for him to see. His fingers still itched to pop the buttons on her deep green shirt just as she’d popped open her life vest earlier.

      Satisfied the fire burned properly, Creed laid the cooking grate over the flames, placed the frying pan on it and turned to his food box. Practiced hands quickly seasoned the fillets with a dry rub made up of his own blend of herbs and spices. That task completed, he moved to the next while the pan heated. Finding a flat spot to the side of the cabin, he erected and secured his tent in a matter of a few minutes, sleeping bag and gear just as quickly organized inside. The simple life. After dinner he’d secure the food box in the cabin and then set about getting to know Linnet better.

      From the corner of his eye, he watched her exit the cabin and walk around behind it. The unfamiliar slap of a screen door snapping shut made him do a double take. When had the screen door been installed? The wooden frame looked as if it had been there as long as the log cabin. A bit of curved antler formed a handle and a simple spring pulled it closed. A few minutes later the purr of a generator rumbled in the quiet, not as loud as he’d expected. Not bad. Almost soothing. He hadn’t noticed it earlier, so maybe she had it stashed in the trees or in the back of her truck. She’d need a couple extra-long extension cords if that was the case.

      Setting his dinner into the hot pan, he kept half an eye on the cabin. What did she need the power for? A laptop? City girl for sure. He added a freshly sliced onion to the fillets in the large, well-seasoned cast-iron frying pan. Bet she didn’t have a cast-iron fry pan, not one with the years of history behind his.

      Rumor, and family legend, said his great-great grandfather had carried this very frying pan up and over the Chilkoot Trail alongside Jack London. Creed’s father had once bragged his sourdough starter dated back equally as far. His mother had later told Creed she’d had to restart a fresh batch in the seventies. Still respectably old, but certainly not any more special than most Alaskan starters.

      The whine of a power tool broke into his thoughts and he looked up. She was still out of his view so he couldn’t identify the tool immediately. Not a circular saw, yet it didn’t sound like a drill either. Unable to resist, he turned the salmon in the pan and pulled it off to the very edge of the grate. He stepped to the side far enough to see her concentrating on the side of the cabin with a tool held about eye level. A reciprocating saw?

      Wagging under the force of his tail, Manley left Linnet and came over to Creed.

      “Hey, boy, what’s she doing, eh?” Creed scratched Manley’s neck and accepted the animal’s need for human comfort. “Making a lot of noise, isn’t she?” The dog pressed against his legs and Creed patted him. “Did George give her permission to make improvements?” Why the hell hadn’t George called him?

      Manley, having no answers, merely wagged his tail and tried to knock Creed over.

      Torn between his sizzling dinner and curiosity over her actions, he hovered until she put down the saw and reached up. “Stay,” he told Manley. One could only hope the dog wouldn’t try to steal the salmon.

      “Need a hand?” he offered. Had he surprised her? The flinch took him by surprise as much as the fact his question seemed to have startled her.

      “Nope. Got it,” she grunted out the words and carefully lifted down the ancient rectangle of glass with gloved hands. He was impressed she wore safety glasses. A good-sized tool box lay open at her feet. That sucker had to be heavy and her truck was easily a couple dozen yards away, down the backside of the rise.

      “What are you doing?”

      She shot him a mildly irritated glance before answering. “Modifying the windows so they open. It gets stuffy inside the cabin, but since the mosquitoes love me, I want to cover them with screening.”

      “Wow, СКАЧАТЬ