“Alaska...” She looks at me, her eyes shining like stars. “I could hug you. Imaginary hug, I mean.”
What the hell? I lean in, giving her a quick, joking squeeze.
It’s almost painful tearing myself away when I want to linger.
Her nose scrunches as my smile catches her. I watch those heart-shaped lips lose their tug-of-war and quirk up at the corners.
Cute as hell.
I’ve just got one question left.
“How do you feel about going on an imaginary camping trip this weekend, Miss Felicity?”
I can’t believe I actually talked her into it.
I also can’t believe Holt let me borrow a crane this frigging large and this expensive without an interrogation. The bossman just reminded me to strap it down tight to the flatbed, considering the hills around here are pretty steep, the roads are wicked twisty, and this crane weighs a metric ass-ton.
I’ve got a few thousand yards of steel cabling, too, plus enough camping supplies to let us bunker down for a few days if needed, depending on what we find at the bottom of that lake.
And hey.
At least Eli got to go on his camping trip, even if he’s staying pretty local in the hills beyond Charming Inn. 'Roughing It Lite' with his new friend Zach and his parents, Leo and Clarissa. If anyone knows the wilderness around Heart’s Edge, it’s a dude like Leo who spent years living in it like a wild man.
They’ve promised to put my number on speed dial and call me if Eli gets so much as a splinter.
I have a feeling he’s not the one I’ll need to worry about.
Not when I’m heading north into the cool mountains with a girl who looks like she’s about to face a firing squad, rather than spend a relaxing weekend fishing for some trout, some bass, and maybe—if we’re lucky—her daddy’s old plane.
She’s bundled up in the passenger seat of the truck cab now.
Even if it’s comfortably warm and breezy in town, it’s gonna be chilly out by the lake. Her stylish leather coat with the Sherpa collar hugs her frame, padding her curves without hiding them.
She’s tucked herself into the corner of the cab, leaning against the door and resting her head against the window.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was asleep.
Only, her bright eyes are open, half lidded and looking pensively out the window, watching the trees roll by as miles and miles of road disappear in our rearview mirror.
It’s not hard to tell she’s feeling guilty for dragging me into this and for relying on me to wheel and deal for equipment.
I don’t know how to convince her I don’t mind.
Feels like the best way is to show her.
Somehow, I’m hoping that maybe—just maybe—this bizarre escapade will give her the closure she needs to let go of all the bruises her father left behind.
I want to see her smile once, dammit.
I want to see those eyes ignite like a winter sunset when the stars are just coming out and the sky’s colors kiss, leaving blue and violet streaks.
Hell, I want to come to the brink of kissing her pretty little face off—even if I’m man enough to know I shouldn’t.
She’s too beautiful right now, even when she’s sad, with the soft morning light falling through the windows and spilling over her like gold.
It brings out the cherry highlights in her cinnamon hair.
Her pale skin glows, the edges painted in soft shimmers that show just how smooth she is, but not flawless.
Nah, see, a face like hers isn’t made to be flawless. Her imperfections give her soul.
The tiny little nick of a scar right above her eyebrow and another near the corner of her mouth just draw the fineness of her other features into stark relief.
I feel like I’m admiring a painting of a beautiful girl captured in heartbreak valley.
I want to see her alive, smiling, and radiant with relief.
Getting sentimental already?
Keep your eyes on the road, mister, a voice growls in the back of my head.
I make myself quit watching her from the corner of my eye and focus on the tricky turns as the narrow roadway spirals through the rising slopes. At least out here it’s already been cleared for logging trails, making room for a flatbed hauling a crane.
The slopes are graded for safety and give me an easier time than I’d expected with the pathway penetrating deeper into rich evergreen forest.
I’ve got my window down. The air smells gorgeous: crisp with pine and distant unmelted snow, warmed by the sun.
Underneath it all, there’s that scent of Miss Fliss and her constant fragrance of warm homey coffee.
“I’m sorry,” Felicity says, breaking the silence that’s held since we loaded up my camping supplies, dropped Eli off, and headed out before many folks would be up to stare at a monster crane floating down Main Street.
I’ve been expecting this, though it’s so abrupt it catches me off guard.
I glance at her again, but she’s not looking at me, staring out the window—until I catch her gaze in the reflective glass, the shimmer of morning turning the window into a mirror.
That’s when it hits me.
She hasn’t been looking out at the wilderness the whole time.
She’s been looking at my reflection in the truck’s window.
Fuck.
I feel like I’m ten years younger, the way my head spins with all these questions about why, and about why I want her to be staring—but the rational adult’s still in charge.
And rational adult me feels more concerned with that troubled look on her face that says she’s two seconds away from bolting out of a moving vehicle like we’re in the middle of some old Jean-Claude Van Damme remake.
“What’re you apologizing for?” I ask carefully.
“Everything. Nothing. I...” She lifts her hands, then drops them into her lap hard enough to make her palms smack her thighs. “I only meant to ask you for advice. This was never supposed to happen, and now here you are, driving up into the mountains with me, chasing ghosts.”
I shrug, idly thumping my thumb against the steering wheel.
“Little late to stop now. Already got the crane loaded and we’re almost there. Not to mention I don’t like taking no for an answer.” I flash her a wink.
Honestly, I was surprised by how easily she’d given in at the time, considering what a prideful little fox she is.
But I figure the other day, she’d been in shock, too overwhelmed by me springing this camping idea on her when she was trying to play coy with her un-hypotheticals.
Shock’s worn off now.
I should probably brace myself for an argument, a panicked demand to turn this truck right back around on this narrow two-lane mountain road and let her do whatever fool thing she’s fixing to do. Alone.
Felicity twists to glance over her shoulder, looking through the window in the back of the truck. Most of the view’s taken up by the deep yellow and black stripes of the crane.
She squints at it with her mouth knotted up before sighing.
“I know, Alaska, I just—I don’t know. Not really.” With a frustrated sound, she twists to face forward again. “People who get close to me usually end up regretting it. People who do me favors can lose more than they ever meant to give. I’m the black cat of Heart’s Edge. And one guy...” Her mouth trembles, and she flashes me a heavy-eyed look full of enough guilt to sink a tanker. “One guy lost his life.”