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CHAPTER1
Willow
The broken wheel of my suitcase catches on the pavement, skidding along the sidewalk as if it has a mind of its own. Drawing all kinds of attention I don’t want. Sympathetic looks. Annoyed scowls. Dismissive smirks. I want to yell at all of them. Not like I’m happy to be back in Alaska!
At least, not under such shitty circumstances.
As the airport shuttle drives off, I yank open the door to the smaller, private airport on the edge of Anchorage and drag my bag inside. The woman behind the front counter offers me a disgruntled expression for my troubles. I ignore it. If my snobby roommates hadn’t kicked me out, I wouldn’t be toting everything I own in one suitcase that’s obviously buckled under the weight. As it is, I had to max out my credit card just to get the airline to transport the damn thing.
“Can I help you?” The woman’s voice is nasally, her smile forced, as the door closes behind me.
“I have a reservation.” Once I get my bag situated by a set of empty chairs, I dig my phone out and approach the counter. “A flight to Caribou Creek.”
My hometown doesn’t have an airport. Only an airstrip for bush planes. But this private flight was faster—and cheaper—than renting a car and driving north.
“Name?”
“Willow Gray.” As I’m searching my email for a reservation number, a call comes in. My heart beats rapidly at Claudia Morrison’s name. I’ve been waiting to hear from her for weeks. Hoping for a role—anyrole—to reassure me that my acting career isn’t dead and buried. “Sorry, I have to take this,” I say in apology, ignoring the unappreciative scowl and handing over my credit card. “It’s my agent.”
I step away from the counter and into a quiet corner of the dinky airport before answering. Still, three sets of eyes keep flickering to me. Probably because I look all LA and out of place.
“Claudia, hi! Do you have good—”
“I’m dropping you.”
“Uh, what’s that?” My heart thunders in my ears, certain I’ve heard her wrong. Yes, I’ve flopped most of my auditions lately. The last acting job I had was a commercial for hemorrhoid cream—I had rent to pay. I’m holding out hope that most of America doesn’t actuallywatchcommercials anymore.
“I’m firing you as my client.”
“I know it’s been tough—”
“You’re a terrible actress, and I’m losing hours of my life I’ll never get back trying to find you work.” I’m too stunned to speak, so Claudia finishes with, “You’re missing that spark you had when you got here, kid. You might try losing a few pounds, too. Best of luck!”
I gasp as the line goes dead, but I can’t seem to pull my phone from my ear. I’m too stunned. I knew Claudia was getting annoyed. But she’s the reason I left Caribou Creek. That I ran out on my own wedding—
“Who you talking to?”
Every muscle in my body goes rigid. Iknowthat voice. If I lived to be a hundred, I’ll never forget it. I’ve missed it more than I will ever admit. With a deep breath, I turn and face my past. “Mason, what are you doing here?”
“Working.”
Ignoring my pulse that’s shot off like a bottle rocket at the end of its fuse, I slip my phone back in my purse. My hands are so shaky I nearly drop it. If I’d never left, he’d be my husband now. “Picking up a group of hunters?” I look around the room for his likely passengers, mostly to avoid meeting those sea green eyes. But no one looks the part. “Or climbers?”
“Not today.”
My gaze cautiously flickers to his, and my knees buckle. I steady myself on the suitcase behind me. Any hopes that he didn’t notice are lost to that fucking smirk he flashes me. It’s as devilish I remember. And just as potent. That deadly smirk caused a lot of our fights back in the day. Not that I ever complained. We usually ended up naked by the end of them. “Then who?”
“You.”
I let out a laugh, certain he’s joking. Mason Reid flies tourists and avid hunters to remote locations. Dropping them off in the Alaskan wilderness. He swore he’d never become a taxi service. “No.”
Mason folds both arms over his chest, those damn biceps flexing. I grip my suitcase handle harder to keep myself from launching my body at his. I’m not surprised to realize that the fire still burns hot when it comes to my first and only love, but I’m also not about to let him know it. My leaving him at the altar aside, we have separate lives now. Mine is in LA His is in Caribou Creek. “Feel free to find another pilot.”
The woman behind the counter is practically undressing him with her eyes. She’s been listening to every word. But when her eyes flicker to me, her scowl returns. “There’s no other pilots available to make that trip today,” she says, sounding almost as disgruntled as she looks.
“I’m not getting on a plane with you.” Except, I don’t think I have a choice. Grandma Rose insisted it was urgent. A matter of life and death. I’d never forgive myself if I missed saying goodbye because I was too stubborn to travel with my ex. I’m not that cold hearted. Not to mention that the already strained relationship with my sisters would shatter completely if I didn’t make it in time.
“Planning to walk?”
