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She ducked her head. “I’m so sorry about that.” She glanced at Kotori.
“I’m fine,” he told her. “Good as new.”
Her eyes widened. “You don’t heal that fast, do you?”
Birk stood up, cutting off the conversation. “Why don’t we see you back to your room, and you can get ready or rest. We’ll pick you up later this evening. Sound good?”
She hesitated, and Kotori almost hoped she would deny her name and pledge to stay with them forever. If she did that, of course, their plans would crumble. He wasn’t willing to give them up just yet. Apparently, neither was she.
“That sounds great. I’m sure I’ll need a nap with you two. Nine sound good?”
“Sure,” Birk agreed, and Kotori nodded. “Have dinner because I don’t want to waste a moment eating . . . well . . . depending on what it is.”
Shiya blushed, and they left the pub to return to Birk’s SUV. Birk dropped Shiya off at her suite, waited until she got inside, and they drove off.
“So we’re doing this?” Kotori asked him.
“Yeah, we’re doing it. We need to make preparations.”
Kotori scratched his chin. Stubble grew already even though he’d shaved that morning. Shiya had noticed when they were out together alone that first time. He wasn’t sure if it turned her off. He would shave again before they picked her up because he didn’t want to irritate her soft skin.
“I’m wondering how she’ll make the trip,” Birk said, cutting into his thoughts.
“That’s a five-hour hike,” he agreed.
Birk drove to the end of the street and turned right. “I need to drop by the hospital. You’re coming with me or what?”
“Drop me here. I need to pick up a few items and deliver the herbs to my grandmother. What time are we really picking her up?”
“Six.”
“Okay, see you at five thirty.”
“Later.”
Chapter Eight
Shiya woke in the lap of luxury, or that’s how it felt buried beneath mounds of warm blankets. Still half asleep, she stretched and yawned with her eyes closed. Rolling to her side, she became aware of something crackling, and her sluggish mind identified it as a fire in a fireplace. The thought of that lulled her, and she smiled, blinking. The room she lay in wasn’t familiar in the least. Where the hell was she, and when did she come here? She sat up and then gasped. The heavy blankets slid down to reveal that she had not a stitch of clothing on.
“What in the hell is going on?”
As she climbed from the bed, she scanned the place—rustic decor, including wooden walls, a slanted roof, and sturdy furniture only a man would choose. There were no pictures, and the curtains hanging from the window did nothing for her in their boring forest-green color. Was this a hunting lodge? She wrapped a sheet around herself and ventured farther on bare feet. The bedroom she left led into a larger room, a combo living room / dining room / kitchen. Off the main area, she spotted another bedroom and a bathroom.
She stood in the center of the floor, trying to remember what happened when she met with Birk and Kotori. They arrived at six rather than nine like they’d said, and she hadn’t done more than shower. Once again, they caught her undressed, and she’d made them wait. While she pulled a comb through her hair and pinned it up, Birk had brought her a glass of wine and told her they’d sip it while they waited. She did and . . .
Shiya frowned. “Those bastards!”
She reached up to her hair and found every pin she’d put into it gone. That dang Birk hated her hair being pinned up. She stomped over to the front door, expecting to see a quiet street in Juneau with Roberts Mountain as a backdrop. When she stood in the entry, the sweep of arctic air took her breath away and almost froze her to death with nothing but the sheet as a barrier. Oh, there were mountains, all right, but they were farther away than what she was
used to and in several directions. No street appeared anywhere, and snow covered every inch of ground.
Shiya slammed the door and scooted back to the fireside. She slid her feet as close to the heat as possible without burning her toes and hugged her arms around herself. Soon she warmed up, but her temper soared.
A good hour passed before sounds outside the cabin alerted her the men had returned. She’d searched every corner of the small cabin for her clothing and found none, so she’d put on one of the guy’s shirts. Her bare legs stuck out of the bottom since no amount of finagling would help their pants to stay up on her.
Birk was the first to walk in, stomping snow from his boots. She stalked over to him and blocked his path. “Where the hell am I, and what did you put in my wine?”
He smiled. “Hello.”
