Cover Me (21 page)

“I had hoped to make it to an actual village, but it’s been slow going with the snow earlier.” He cranked open his thermos of coffee and took a swig. “I did prepare contingencies other than camping out. I went on the Internet before we left and found a bed-and-breakfast.”

“A bed-and-breakfast? Out here?” Her mind filled with images of the old Victorian homes she’d seen in books. That didn’t seem possible or probable out here.

“It didn’t look like much in the pictures, which means it’s probably worse in reality. But we’ll have a place to sleep for the night before we head out in the morning.”

He put the truck back in gear, tires crunching along the icy road. Tomorrow, she would tell him good-bye forever.

But first, she had to make it through the night with the only man she’d ever loved.

Chapter 12

The sun was setting faster than Wade’s feet could carry him from the tiny landing strip to the lodge across the street. Salty wind tore in off the rural harbor. He hitched his backpack more securely over his shoulders, Sunny keeping pace beside him. But then she always did.

The woman was unstoppable. He admired the hell out of her, would give just about

anything for a shot at a real relationship with her. But he didn’t have a clue how that was going to happen while she protected a deserter brother.

There were a lot of things in life he could overlook or learn to live with. That was not one of them. He’d been too ingrained in military culture with his parents for too long to look the other way when it came to her brother.

So now he knew what Sunny had known all along. Their time together was limited, very limited.

In the morning, they would launch the final leg of their journey to her village. They’d reserved two snowmobile rentals to be picked up at sunrise tomorrow. For tonight, they were staying at the lodge perched on the shore. He waited for a moose to clear the road before continuing toward the one-story building of weather-worn wood.

Twice he’d flown rescue missions out here, once for stranded fishermen, and another time to save capsized kayakers. The water was so fucking cold he could have sworn his chestnuts retreated behind his lungs for warmth for at least a week.

He believed in the mission with every cell in his body, just as both his parents had been willing to give all for country. He squeezed his eyes closed against the headache throbbing at the thought of his mother, once every bit as take-charge as Sunny, whose battles now included struggling for words and learning to feed herself.

Beside him, Sunny gasped. He looked at her quickly, tracking her gaze to a couple of hunters walking across the street, their wolf-hybrid dog loping in step.

Sunny swiped her wrist under her eyes, and he followed her train of thought in a flash.

His hand fell to the back of her neck. “We can call McCabe and check on Chewie after we eat. So far I still have bars on my cell phone.”

She smiled up at him as she stepped into the lodge lobby. “Thanks. I would really appreciate that.”

“Before you go all mushy on me”—he closed the door behind her, sealing the wind away from the warmth of the wood-burning stove—“I’m also calling in to see how the investigation is going.”

He ushered her through the lobby, which doubled as a dining area, tables packed with fisherman tugging off black stocking hats. Walls were crammed with mounted local catches. A stuffed brown bear loomed on its hind legs in a corner.

Five minutes later, he signed the check-in book. Wade collected the key. Neither of them had questioned staying together. The place only had a half dozen rooms, but after this morning’s close call he wasn’t letting her out of his sight.

Waiting beside him, she hooked her thumbs on her backpack straps. “A lot can change in a couple of hours.” She chewed her bottom lip with uncharacteristic nervousness. “After you make your call, there are things I should tell you.”

Yeah, he knew that too well.

This was it. When he had the conversation he knew needed to happen, things between them would change. Call him selfish, but he wanted this chance to be with her.

Once they crossed that line, saying certain things out loud, things would change

irrevocably between them. “Sure, but first, I have something to say to you.”

She stepped into the room, easing her backpack onto a split-log bench. “What?”

He carefully placed his own pack beside hers before pivoting back to face her.

“This.” He closed the thick oak door and pressed her to the panel in one smooth move.

Hands bracketing her face, he kissed her. Hard and fast and with all the frustrated energy pent up from a day full of insane twists. They should have been lounging in bed for a lazy week off. He would have used the time wisely to learn every inch of her creamy flesh, to discover the precise location of every erogenous zone.

Instead she’d spent half her day identifying grisly crime scene photos and he was stuck finding out her secrets from OSI investigators. Whatever happened to exchanging phone numbers and astrological signs over drinks?

The day rolled over him. The insanity outside his apartment that morning. How close a crazed killer had been lurking, targeting Sunny. How close Sunny had come to walking away from him.

Tomorrow loomed with a big dark shadow of the unknown. But right here, right now, he had Sunny in his arms.

Her tongue searched his mouth every bit as boldly and thoroughly as he delved into hers.

She tunneled her hand between them and unzipped his parka and shoved it from his shoulders and to the floor. A damn good idea. He set to work on her jacket until finally they could press chest to chest. The fullness of her breasts flattened against him, her curves familiar, enticing, and still entirely too covered up.

Wind howled beyond the curtains, bedside lamps flickering in response, bringing a momentary blink of reason.

He resisted the urge to tear every inch of clothes from her body. “We should slow down.”

“Why?” she gasped, fumbling down the buttons on his uniform.

He covered her hands with his. “Because I don’t want to be an insensitive jackass by taking you against this door.”

“What if I like this door?” She nipped his bottom lip.

Fair enough. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

Finesse fell away faster than the rest of their clothes until they stood skin to skin, his hard-on pressing against the warmth of her stomach. He throbbed with restraint, aching to feel her all around him.

He dipped to snag his wallet from his pants and filched a condom. Sunny snatched it from his palm and sheathed him quickly, efficiently, her haste speaking loud and clear of her own impatience.

He thrust into her, the clamp of her body threatening to send him over the edge before he even really got started. His teeth clenched, hard. She kissed along his jaw, rocking her hips in encouragement as she whispered her need against his ear.

The pounding urge to come damn near deafened him, his pulse hammered so loudly in his ears. No doubt, this was going to be over quick, so he needed to work on making it happen fast for her too.

She writhed against him, scoring his shoulders with her close-cut fingernails, her motions jerky and a little frantic. “Quit thinking and start moving. I need… I want… Now…”

Didn’t have to tell him twice.

Tucking an arm under the perfect curve of her bottom, he angled her closer, thrust deeper, faster, driving them both closer and closer until… her shout of completion mingled with his, echoing around the small room along with the crackle of the wood-burning stove, the slap of the tide against icy chunks just beyond their window.

His forehead thunked to rest against the door as he panted and prayed he wouldn’t drop her. His legs weren’t any steadier than his heart rate. When he could trust his arms to work properly again, he scooped her up and carried her to the split-log bed, caribou antlers over the headboard. She reached a limp hand down to sweep aside the patchwork quilt before he placed her in the middle of the mattress and slid in after her.

Now he just needed to wait for her to go to sleep so he could make his call.

***

Flynn swung open the door to the tiny attic room at the so-called bed-and-breakfast.

More like a barn-and-breakfast. The small space had sloped ceilings, tucked away on the top floor of the A-frame house. The place was probably set up by the old hunter and his wife who lived here so they could close it off when it wasn’t in use.

But it was warm and safe for Misty. Nothing else mattered.

He tossed his duffel bag and Misty’s suitcase in a corner by the only chair and walked to the wood-burning stove to get some heat moving around. And to take his eyes off the iron bed.

Not that he would be using that mattress. He would spend the night on the dinky futon that had been billed as a sofa bed on the website.

Kneeling in front of the stove, he opened the grate to find a preset kindling pile. Quietly, he eyed the room while Misty unpacked things from her bag. It was a house, but it wasn’t. The cabinets weren’t made of wood. They looked like wood but it was a veneer with particle board.

The rug under his boots crunched. He reached down to test the texture. Nothing like the natural fibers he was accustomed to. The only things that appeared authentic were the hand-painted nesting dolls beside the bed. They looked like some of the crafts his brother’s wife had her students make in school.

If things in this backwoods room seemed strange, how much more out of place would he be if he left the islands altogether? He didn’t even remember another way of living. His parents had been one of the founding families, coming here from Washington State. His father headed up the village community council and talked about the day Flynn or Ryker would run for election.

Not that Ryker had much interest in anything other than smoking weed and sleeping with his wife.

Flynn had been the one to dream of having a simple life for himself like his parents’—a life with Misty.

Steeling himself for just how damn pretty she was, he turned to face her. Still, seeing her punched the air out of his lungs. Her silky hair brushed her shoulders as she pulled shampoo and a comb from her bag. Well-washed jeans hugged the curve of her hips. Her green flannel shirt had a little ruffle alongside the buttons that all but shouted to his fingers to slide them open.

He gripped his knee until it hurt. “Sorry there was only one room.”

“I’m not worried.” She added a bar of soap to her pile of toiletries, the scent of some kind of berries drifting across the room. “If you intended to hit on me, you would have done it long before now. It’s been four years.”

Since this was his big chance, might as well go for broke. “That doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking about you.”

“Tough not to, when we bump into each other all the time.” She slammed closed the suitcase again. “You can take the futon.”

“It’s not exactly bedtime yet.” Even to conserve energy, a person couldn’t sleep all the time it was dark in Alaska. “We should eat something.”

A tray rested on the end table, chair on one side, bed on the other. She eyed him for a second before plopping down on the edge of the bed, making it very clear he wasn’t getting near the four-poster even for supper.

He took the chair as she pulled the napkin off a plate of salmon pie and blueberry cobbler. A pitcher of ice water and pot of hot chocolate rounded out the meal, the dinner making up somewhat for the ratty futon. He draped his napkin over one knee and divvied up the meal. At least he could feed one hunger. He tucked into his flaky crust, smoked salmon and cheese oozing out of the sides. With every bite he felt the heavy weight of Misty’s gaze across the table as she pushed her food back and forth on her chipped pottery plate.

As he reached to refill his water glass, she dropped her spoon on the table with a jarring clatter.

“Flynn, I want you to know that I forgive you.”

His hand froze with the fork halfway up, cobbler dripping off the sides. Stunned, he set the utensil down again. “What did you say?”

“I forgive you for what you did with… June. If you need it spelled out. I forgive you for having sex with her,” she said curtly, her tight face not looking happy or at peace with jack squat. “I thought you should know that.”

“Okay. Thank you,” he answered, not knowing what the hell else to say. “I’m not so sure I could be as generous if the positions were reversed.”

She cocked her head to the side. “If I had slept with someone you would still be angry?”

God yes, which is why he didn’t understand why he’d done it in the first place. “If you cheated while we were dating, then yeah, I would still have a problem with it.”

Picking up her fork, she looked away as if mulling his words over—and effectively making it impossible for him to speak, since she wouldn’t see him.

She pushed her food around again, jabbing the cobbler until berries spurted purple juice into the crust the way she used to do with her mother’s cobbler. “What about if I’ve slept with someone over these past four years?”

Her words stabbed him as effectively as her fork into that fruit even though he realized he had no right. He knew she’d dated a few times. He was painfully aware of each time, since his sister-in-law Lindsay made sure to pass along any gossip he might have missed.

But Lindsay had always done so assuring him none of them were serious.

Hell. As if he’d had any kind of relationship at all with June. “I guess I gave up my right to be upset about who you choose to be with, but yeah, it would bug me because I still regret how it ended with us. I wish things could have been different.”

“Me too,” she said simply.

With those two little words, Misty had reached out in a serious way here and he could, he would, do the same for her.

“I’ll go the rest of the way to your appointment with you.” Even if that meant he couldn’t come back. He tamped down the panic, for her. He owed her. “I’ll be right there by your side through the surgery, your recovery, all of it. Before you can argue, I’m not asking you to take me back. I’m only asking to be there for you now.”