Trace’s sister opened the cargo hold, reached in, and hefted a box into her arms.
Well, shoot. How many of those were there to unload? And how much of a princess would she look like if she didn’t get out there and help? She put her water bottle on the gate desk, slipped her gloves on, and walked into the cold air. “Hi. Can I help?”
The dark-haired woman turned, and her face broke into a smile as wide and open as the sky she’d just dropped out of. “Nah. You’re our guest.” Her smile broadened a notch. “Besides, Lilah tells me you tried snowshoeing for the first time today. Your legs are probably begging for mercy right now, just standing there. I’ve got this.” She strode past Izzy, bent at the knees, and placed the package on the floor below the windows, in front of the empty waiting area. Then she stood, lifted her sunglasses to top of her spikey-cut bangs, dusted her glove off on her pant leg, and held her hand out. “Bridget.”
“Isabelle Marcano.” She shook the offered hand. “My friends call me Izzy.”
“Hey, Izzy. Welcome to Captivity.”
“Thanks. Welcome back. Trace told me you got waylaid in Anchorage because of last night’s storm.”
“Anchorage is always fun, no matter what the reason.” Her smiled dimmed a little. “Speaking of fun, bet your flight yesterday evening was a blast.”
She grimaced. “A level of fun I don’t want to repeat anytime soon.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, Mad Dog told me you rolled in wearing four-inch heels, sparkling like a diamond. He and Wing were ready to compete for your affection with feats of strength and stupidity until Trace broke their hearts by staking his claim.”
“Hmm. That’s not quite how I remember it, but it was nice of them not to mention my luggage barfed all over the terminal floor.”
“Oh, they mentioned that, too.” She winked one twinkling, violet-blue eye. “You’d think they’d never seen women’s underwear before, whereas I can personally vouch Mad has, and I have reliable intel Wing possesses a rudimentary familiarity.”
“Oh, well. That’s a relief, I guess.”
“I don’t know whether either of them had even seen a vibrator, though.”
Izzy felt her face heat. “Jeez, they don’t leave any detail out, do they?”
Bridget just laughed. “Things get pretty slow during the off-season. New blood, especially new blood with potential sticking power, is big news. I better get the rest of the cargo unloaded and get the plane squared away. I’ll let you go back to…whatever you were doing.”
“Organizing Trace’s files.”
Bridget stared at her for a stunned moment, then mimed putting a gun to her head and pulling the trigger. “Better you than me. I wouldn’t have the first clue how to bring order to that chaos, or anywhere near the patience to try. It must be love if you’re willing to sacrifice vacation days to tackle Trace’s filing system.”
Izzy clasped her hands together and shrugged. “I’m an organized soul. I just can’t help myself.”
“I’ll come find you once I’m done and see if I can corrupt you with some legitimate fun.” She turned to walk out to the plane. “If Trace gets back before I’m done, do me a favor and send him out to help.”
“I will,” she called. Heading back to the office with her freshly filled water bottle, she acknowledged a new, more profound source of unease than her strained leg muscles. Trace’s sister seemed nice. Deceiving her about their relationship won the day’s discomfort sweepstakes.
…
Trace walked into the terminal to the sound of women laughing. He followed the noise to the waiting area, where Bridget and Izzy sat in relaxed conversation. Well, Izzy sat. Bridget lounged, with an arm slung across the back of a chair and her boots resting on the armrest of the next chair over. “No, no, no,” she said. “I stand corrected. Dislocating his shoulder while trying to get to third base with Becky Higgins in the cab of her little Toyota 4Runner was not his first dating disaster. That honor would belong to Megan Manion. Mrs. Manion and my mom were good friends, and Trace and Megan were born just a couple months apart, so they played together all the time. I guess when they were around five, they—”
“Three,” he corrected, and found himself the recipient to two female gazes. One gently amused, the other gleaming with the delight of a younger sibling determined to tell embarrassing tales about an older, wiser, more responsible sibling. “We were three, you weren’t even born yet, and Izzy doesn’t want to hear your boring, secondhand stories.”
“Oh, no.” Izzy turned back to Bridget, smiling brightly, and tapped her hand. “I do. I want to hear all of them.”
Trace rolled his eyes while Bridget continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “They were playing outside and got dirty, so the moms decided to put them in the bath together to clean up. Once they were splashing around, Mrs. Manion realized Megan had never seen a naked guy before and wondered what she would make of…you know…Trace’s assets.”
“Did he make an impression?” Izzy asked.
“I’ll say. According to Mrs. Manion, on the way home Megan turned to her and asked, ‘Do you think they can have it removed?’” With that, Bridget clapped her hands and laughed ’til tears leaked down her cheeks, and practically hurt herself adding, “So much for penis envy.”
Izzy laughed as well, but politely behind her hand. Her eyes sought his. More pleased than he anticipated at how well Izzy and his sister were getting along, but game to exact a little revenge, he walked over to her, tugged her ponytail to tip her head back, and planted a long, thorough kiss smack on her mouth. By the time he eased back her eyes were glazed, her cheeks pink, and her cotton candy lips parted invitingly. While she blinked him into focus, he added, “You get any penis envy, Izzy, just say the word. You can have mine whenever you want.” Subtext? I can scratch your itch. Think about it. By the look on her face, she was giving it thought. A lot of thought.
“Ugh.” Bridget nudged him in the arm with the toe of her boot, and then swung her legs down until her feet hit the floor. “Don’t kill my appetite. I’m looking forward to the inn’s shepherd’s pie for lunch.”
“I’ll put it on my tab,” he said, always relieved to know she was getting a decent meal, “if you help load the packages into the Yukon.” To Izzy, he asked, “Do you have anything to go back with us?”
“Just my stuff. I have a few things to work on this afternoon, but I can do that at the inn.”
“Okay. Go ahead and grab your things while Bridge and I load up.”
“Sure.” She rose a bit cautiously, which told him she was feeling some aftereffects from the morning’s snowshoe workout. “Be right back.”