Northern Fires (3 page)

He rose to his feet, as well. She was very much aware of his height and the impressive breadth of his chest and shoulders. And yeah, that was all good and fine, but what could he do with the set?

Silently she turned on her heel and he followed as she led him to the back right corner behind the curtained stage where Bull had set up his work area. Sven’s boots echoed across the stage floor as he walked with her. Shadows shrouded Bull’s section behind the drop of the heavy curtain. An element of awareness threaded the silence between them.

In the dim light, Juliette inhaled Sven’s scent—a combination of man, fresh-cut lumber, soap, leather and the outdoors. Her heart raced as he leaned in and reached toward her—her thoughts racing nearly as fast as her heart.

It had been so long since she’d been kissed or touched by a man…well, by anyone for that matter. Did she want to feel his palm against her skin? Did she want the sensation of his breath mingling with hers? Did she want to know the taste of his lips and tongue against her own?

She wasn’t sure.

She stood as if frozen and everything seemed to move in extreme slow motion as he drew even with her. His arm brushed against her shoulder, setting off a series of tremors inside her.

There was a sudden movement, a click and light flooded the area. He dropped his arm to his side.

“That sheds a little light on it, doesn’t it?” he said.

Oh, God, she was losing her mind. She’d thought he was going to kiss her and all he was doing was turning on the freaking light. And the worst of it was, she was disappointed. What was wrong with her?

“Thanks,” she said, taking a step away from him. “That definitely makes it easier to see.”

Sven crossed his big arms over his chest and tucked his chin down, studying the pieces before them. Finally he nodded. “It works.”

She was relieved. She and Bull had always been in sync. She hadn’t been too sure that Sven would get what she wanted, but apparently he did. “I think it does. I do think this is a little off, but I can’t put my finger on the exact problem.”

He cocked his head to one side, assessing the plywood cutout. Finally he looked from the piece to her. “If we smooth out this line a bit—” he traced the line with his finger in the air “—and make that one sharper…”

She could see it in her mind’s eye. Juliette nodded. “Perfect, that would take care of the problem.” She found it somewhat surprising that they seemed to be on the same wavelength.

“I have a couple of other ideas that might work, too.” He paused. “Have you had dinner yet?”

She often didn’t eat until late in the evening at this time of year. She found she followed a different rhythm with the longer days of sunlight. “No. I had a busy flight schedule today and then rehearsal.” She liked sitting in on the rehearsal and seeing if what they had on the set side was working or not.

He grinned, and she found breathing a bit more difficult. “And then you had to wait on me to come by. Sorry to hold you up. Jenna had a couple of kinks that needed smoothing out over at the spa.”

“No problem. I just appreciate your help with the set, and so does everyone else involved with the production.” She tacked on that last bit just to make sure he knew she wasn’t being personal when she thanked him and that he didn’t think she had any kind of agenda. Because she didn’t. Nope. None.

“I’d say let’s drop by Gus’s but it’s karaoke night. It’d be pretty difficult to talk there.”

She smiled. “Impossible is more like it.”

“I left a roast going in the Crock-Pot. Definitely nothing fancy, but it usually turns out good enough. Want to come over and have a bite to eat and we can knock around some ideas?”

Juliette made it a practice to keep to herself. It just seemed easier that way. So, normally she would’ve thanked him politely and declined. However, normal seemed to have checked out on vacation, because instead of declining she found herself saying, “I could do that.”

“You know, I’m out at Shadow Lake.”

Juliette smiled. “Right.”

Shadow Lake was beyond lovely. The large tract of property wasn’t too far out of town. At the heart sat a lake that got its name from the mountains surrounding it—at almost any time of day different parts of the lake were shadowed by one mountain or another.

It had belonged to two sisters who had retired to Good Riddance to raise sled dogs and enjoy the Alaskan lifestyle. Irene and Erlene Marbut had become part of Good Riddance’s lore. While the sisters didn’t want to live together, neither had they wanted to live too far apart, so they’d built cabins within spitting distance on the edge of Shadow Lake.

The two women, now deceased, had willed their property to Dalton Saunders, Juliette’s fellow bush pilot. Last year Dalton had married Skye Shanahan, who had taken over as the local doctor following her stint as a relief doc. The couple had contracted Sven to build them a new home that was a bit more private and offered room for them to start a family.

Juliette had heard Sven was staying in one of the original cabins while he renovated the other, and then he’d switch until they were both done. The two side-by-side cabins would be for visiting family members. Skye’s snooty family had actually fallen in love with both Alaska and their outspoken, slightly outrageous son-in-law.

“Well, of course you know, since you fly with Dalton. Plus, there doesn’t seem to be much that people in Good Riddance don’t know about each other.”

“True enough.” Although there was plenty about Juliette that wasn’t known—and she planned to keep it that way. Some things were better left unsaid and in the past.

3

S
VEN
GLANCED
IN
HIS
REARVIEW
mirror to confirm Juliette was behind him as he hung a right onto the unpaved road to the cabins. The road, spread with a fresh load of crusher-run gravel, cut through the stately spruce trees. He looked back to the driveway just in time to brake and stop.

Juliette halted behind him. He stuck his head out the window and yelled back to her, “Beaver crossing the road.”

She flashed a smile and nodded, giving him the thumbs-up. Her smile sent heat through him.

Bucky, as Sven had dubbed the beaver, stopped midcrossing and looked at him. Sven waited. Unperturbed he’d interrupted traffic, Bucky once again continued his journey. Sven had sighted a couple of beavers on the southeast end of the lake, but Bucky was the only one who ventured this far. Sven had spotted the bristly fellow crossing the road several times.

Bucky finally reached the other side and Sven moved on, Juliette following once again.

He hadn’t planned to invite her to dinner. It had just sort of worked out that way. It was logical they’d sit down and discuss the set. He had dinner waiting in a pot. No big deal. The only reason he wouldn’t have invited her was if he allowed himself to be freaked out by Alberta and Jenna. He’d be damned if he’d have Jenna, or anyone else, thinking he was afraid of Juliette.

The tall evergreens gave way to a clearing, the lake to the right, cabins to the left. He parked in the graveled space, big enough to accommodate two vehicles, next to the two side-by-side cabins. Juliette pulled into the empty spot beside him. For sure, she drove a sweet ride—a classic Series IIA Land Rover. It was cool as well as functional—a veritable workhorse that could be repaired on the spot in remote locations. There was something to be said for a woman who knew her way around an engine, which she obviously did. Flying a plane into remote areas required she know engine repair. There was something kind of sexy about a woman who could handle those things.

Juliette climbed out of her truck, looking around. A slight breeze ruffled her short, dark hair and carried her scent to him. “It sure is nice out here,” she said.

“Yeah, it is. There are some awesome places in Alaska, but Shadow Lake is one of the prettiest I’ve ever seen.” He’d fallen in love with the location the first time he saw it. It was quiet and private without the absolute isolation he’d seen in some parts of the state and even in the surrounding area.

He enjoyed staying in the cabin overlooking the tranquil lake ringed by towering spruce, snowcapped mountains visible in the distance. “Have you been out here before?”

Without discussing it, of one accord, they both walked toward the lake.

“Once for dinner,” Juliette said as they skirted a thatch of fireweed in the clearing between the cabins and the water, the purple-pink spires standing thigh high. “It was after Dalton and Skye moved into the new house, which, by the way, is lovely. Your work is quite nice.”

They stopped at the lake’s edge, the gentle lapping of water against the shore soothing and rhythmic. Dalton and Skye’s new home was situated farther down the shore. After dark, the lights would glimmer among the trees.

“Thanks. It was great working on it. Dalton and Skye dig functional, clean design that works with the surroundings.” They turned, heading back to the cabins.

“It feels spacious and cozy at the same time.”

Her comments pleased him. It felt good to have his work appreciated. “That’s exactly what we were aiming for.” They walked up onto the porch. “Want to come in or we can sit out here?” He’d opt for the outside any time.

“Out here is nice,” she said.

“Take the chair.” He motioned to the only seat on the porch. “I’ll hold up the railing.” He propped on the railing, resting his back against the post. Juliette settled on the kitchen chair he kept on the porch. “Skye didn’t cook when you came over, did she?” he asked.

It was common knowledge Skye, while she was a helluva doctor, was a lousy cook. Actually, it was something of an ongoing debate throughout town as to who was worse in the kitchen, Skye or Jenna.

Juliette laughed and Sven realized that in the months he’d known her it was the first time he’d heard her laugh. Her amusement had a musical quality. “No, Dalton cooked. I understand it’s best that way. Skye’s the first to say she’d starve left to her own devices and no takeout.”

He was curious about Juliette. In a town where everyone knew everyone else’s business, all he knew of her was that she flew a bush plane and kept to herself. He knew she had short, wavy hair that made his fingers itch to run through it and a mouth that directed his thoughts to long, slow kisses on an Alaskan spring evening. Other than that, she was a mystery. “What about you? Do you cook?”

She shrugged and offered another one of her quiet smiles. “Nothing gourmet, but I manage.” She sniffed. Even with the cabin door closed, the faint aroma of roasted meat and vegetables mingled with the scent of evergreen and fresh air. “You obviously know your way around a kitchen…or at least a Crock-Pot.”

Ah, a dry sense of humor lurked beneath that serious, faintly mysterious exterior. “The Crock-Pot is a beautiful thing. My parents were adamant my brother and I know how to take care of ourselves.”

“There’s a lot to be said for self-sufficiency.” A hint of melancholy tinged her smile and shadowed her eyes, and it was as if she retreated a bit into her shell. What had he said wrong?

It was just as he’d known from the get-go—the woman would be a boatload of trouble to figure out, and who needed that?

“Yeah, there is. What do you say we eat out here? I do most evenings. Even if I eat at Gus’s I usually wind up out here at some point before I go to bed. Of course, that’s since it’s warmed up.”

“The porch would be fine. I like being outdoors and it’s a nice view of the lake and the sky.”

“I’ll grab dinner.”

“Need any help?” She shifted forward as if to get up.

“Nope. I’ve got it covered.” He stopped at the door. “What can I get you to drink? Beer? Milk? Water? I’m not a wine drinker.”

“Water sounds good. Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

The place was kind of a mess. He wasn’t the neatest guy and he almost never had guests. “No. I think I can manage two plates and drinks. Mind if I have a beer?”

“Of course not.” There was a hint of searching in her regard, as if she was looking for some deeper meaning.

“I’ll be right back then.” Sven stepped into the cabin, closing the door behind him. He picked up yesterday’s shirt and jeans and tossed them into the bedroom just in case she decided to come in. He did a quick bathroom reconnaissance. Not too bad.

The cabin was essentially one big room with a separate bedroom and bathroom. From the kitchen, where he filled two plates with roast, potatoes and carrots, he could see Juliette through the front window. Even though she looked peaceful enough on the porch, there was a tension in the line of her shoulders.

A loon, with its distinct cry, called from the lake. Dalton had told him the pair returned year after year to spend the summer. Interesting creatures those loons—they mated for life.

He left the plates on the table and carried another chair outside, Juliette’s water glass in his other hand. “Dinner’s coming right up.”

She took the glass, her fingers brushing his, sending a jolt through him. “Thanks.”

He went back in, picked up the plates and utensils and brought them out to the porch. She took her plate and he settled in the empty kitchen chair.

“Hope you enjoy it,” Sven said as he automatically tipped his chair back until it rested against the cabin wall.

“It smells delicious,” she said, fork in hand.

“Dig in.” He loaded his fork with a piece of meat and a potato chunk, suddenly ravenous.

She took a bite and a slow smile lit her brown eyes. “Delicious,” she said when she finished chewing and swallowing. “You do know your way around a Crock-Pot.”

Inordinately pleased with her compliment, he found he was glad he’d been the one to put that smile on her face. “Glad you like it.”

She gestured with her fork, at the vista before them. “I understand why you sit out here most evenings.”

The sun slanted onto the covered porch. Sven always thought of this as “the golden hour.” Now he stared at Juliette, transfixed by her radiance as the light burnished her hair and skin. Something inside him shifted and fell into place, like when he was notching logs and got the fit just right.

She glanced at him. “Sven?”

He shook his head. What the hell was wrong with him? It had to be that crazy conversation with Jenna. “Uh, yeah. It is a pretty awesome view, isn’t it?”

For what could’ve been one second or minutes, their gazes locked, ensnared. Gold flecked her smoky-brown eyes. His gut tightened and he had the most incredible urge to bridge the space between them and test the smoothness of her skin with his fingertips. Her eyes darkened as if she’d read his desire and wanted the same. Juliette finally looked away.

“So,” she prompted, a husky note flavoring her voice that held a Southern undertone. “You had some ideas about the set?” She speared a carrot with her fork, looking at her plate as if the contents fascinated her.

Sven shifted on the hard chair and checked out his own plate rather than the wash of light over her. Meat and potatoes would curb at least one appetite.

Over the meal, he outlined his suggestions and was pleased with her thoughtful comments and questions. Before he knew it, their plates were clean and they’d finished discussing the set.

Juliette stood, her empty plate in hand, “Well, thanks so much for dinner. It was delicious.”

The idea that he didn’t want her to go flashed through him and instinctively he said, “There’s a nice trail down by the lake that leads to a rise with an even better view if you’re up for an after-dinner walk.”

Surprise registered on her face and she hesitated. Finally she nodded. “That’d be nice.”

* * *

T
HE
BREEZE
BLEW
ACROSS
the water, cooling Juliette’s heated skin and teasing her hair against her neck and temple. She’d been torn. Did she want to soak up more of the tranquillity of Shadow Lake, and the rush of heat and awareness brought on by Sven—feelings she hadn’t known in a long time, possibly ever? Or did she want to safely retreat to her own cabin in the woods? She wasn’t sure it was the smartest move on her part, but she’d opted to stay.

The path skirted the shore, worn and obviously used by both man and wildlife. She focused on the nuances of the setting rather than the energy radiating from the man beside her—the soothing lapping of water against the shore, the sigh of the wind through the spruce boughs, the muted rhythm of their booted feet against the dirt trail. Mosquitoes, jokingly referred to as Alaska’s national bird, buzzed past, and a bald eagle’s distant chirping carried on the evening air.

The mosquitoes always reminded her of childhood summers when she’d spent as much time as possible outside. Bug bites had been a small price to pay for a reprieve from the chaos inevitably found indoors.

“So,” Sven said, breaking the silence and pulling her back from her brief foray into the past, “how’d you wind up flying a bush plane in Alaska?”

Surely he knew the story. It was a standard question that came with her profession and she’d been asked numerous times. She gave him the same abbreviated, sanitized version everyone else got.

“I’ve always loved flying, being up in the air.”

She was eight years old and once again Mama and Daddy were shouting and throwing things. Juliette darted out the back door when they were distracted. Outside was better than inside, but they could always still find her. She dashed across the field to old man Haddricks’s place and scrambled into the cockpit of his crop-duster plane. Her folks never thought to look for her there and she liked to pretend she was flying up in the sky. They couldn’t get to her up in the sky.

“All right, little missy,” old man Haddricks said, nearly startling the pee out of her. “I been watching you sit in my plane going on near a month. I’m about to dust the Oglesby soybean fields.” He hooked his thumbs in the straps of his overalls. His gray, bristling eyebrows nearly met one another over his nose and he never smiled, but his eyes were kind. You could see meanness in a person and it wasn’t in him. “You wanna tag along?”

She nodded mutely. Her heart nearly thumping out of her chest, she climbed over into the second seat and buckled in. The next thing she knew, they were off the ground. And for the first time in her life she actually felt safe. It was just like she’d dreamed it would be. No one could find her and no one could harm her when she was in the sky.

She shrugged. “I became a flight attendant, fell in love with Alaska on a long layover and decided to get my pilot’s license.”

Her life sounded so nice and neat and compartmentalized when in fact it had been one big mess and even that CliffsNotes version dredged it all up for her again. Marrying Boyd Feldman, her high school boyfriend, when she was seventeen just to get out of her parents’ house. Foolishly believing Boyd would stand between her and her parents. Realizing she’d jumped from the frying pan into the fire. Divorced by nineteen. Lucking into the flight attendant job. Falling into a second marriage where once again she thought he’d have her back, only to discover the only thing they had in common was burying their respective troubles in a bottle. A second divorce. Waking up in a hotel room one morning after a flight and an evening spent in the hotel bar, not remembering where she was or how she’d gotten there,
knowing
if she didn’t make some changes she’d surely ruin her life and die young. Alcoholism was suicide by installment plan.