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I swallow the urge to tell him I haven’t been with anyone else, if only to kill the idea in his head that I was sleeping my way to the top or some shit like that. But it’s ammo I can’t give him. My resolve is already too weak. I shove a few things in a laundry bag, hoping it’ll suffice for whatever shelter we find out here. “I’m ready.”
He closes up the plane and kicks the blocks behind the tires to ensure they’re secure. “Let’s go.”
The fog is thicker. Drizzle dampens my face, no doubt smearing my makeup, as I push to keep up with Mason. The man is practically jogging. It’s pride that keeps me from yelling at him to slow down. Claudia’s nagging voice that suggests I need to lose weight.Bitch. If she had any idea how hard I’ve worked to shed the pounds I did… The thought dies. Claudia was possibly the nicest person I met in the city, but she wouldn’t have an ounce of compassion for the struggles I’ve been through. Or the ones I’ll be facing when I head back.
It makes me miss Caribou Creek. The small town is a gossip hub filled with people who are only too eager to offer their opinions. But every single person there would stop if you were stranded on the side of the road with a flat tire.
I shake away the uninvited thoughts. Moving home?Notan option. I don’t need to listen to all the gossip about how I came back a failure with my tail tucked between my legs. How it served me right for what I did to Mason. If I can keep my visit short, I can at least pretend I’m still successful. On the verge of a big role rather than tossed out with yesterday’s trash.
“Youtryingto get mauled by a bear?” Mason calls, his voice several yards ahead of me. Half his body has disappeared in the fog. Two more feet and he’d been invisible to me.
I hurry to catch up to him. “We’re not going to find—”
A cabin appears through the fog. With each step, its outline is clearer. It’s … small. Mason rattles the knob, and to my surprise, the door opens. He stands on the landing, his large frame taking up most of its space, and waves an arm inside. “After you.”
I take a cautious step and linger on the stair below him, resisting the urge to latch onto him. “How do you know it’s empty?”
He waits until I’m leaning across the threshold to say, “I don’t.” When I recoil and nearly stumble backward, his strong arm catches my back. The heat of his touch is almost enough to drown out the sound of laughter.Almost.
“Jerk.” I push at his hard chest, but it’s me who teeters unevenly. I lose my balance and slips backwardagain.
Mason’s strong arms yank me against him, my cheek smashing into his hard, delicious chest. That intoxicating cologne clouds my senses. I feel his heart pound rapidly against my ear. I should move, but I’ve missed the warmth of his embrace and selfishly want to steal what little of it I can. “When did you get so clumsy?”
Reality snaps me back to my senses. “I’mnotclumsy.” I wriggle free and march inside the cabin before I can trip a third time. “It’s just—”
“Just what?” His low, gruff voice tickles my ear.
“There’s only one bed. One very small bed.”
CHAPTER4
Mason
The fishing cabin intended for one is too small. Hell, the state of Alaska feels too small knowing Willow is in it again. Being this close to her rewires my brain. I’ve never stopped loving her. Never stopping believing she’d come back in my life, despite everyone telling me to move on. Once Gran gets wind of Willow being back, I’ll no doubt get a lecture about keeping the fuck away.
But I don’t care.
Willow’s always been mine.Onlymine.
If I’m going to convince her to stay though, I need to get my fucking head on straight.
“That took you long enough,” Willow says when I return with an armful of firewood for the wood stove. It may be summer, but the nights out here are chilly. Since the odds of us keeping each other warm tonight are mixed, we need another heat source.
“I didn’t hear you volunteering.”
She presses her lips together, as if trapping whatever she really wants to say behind them. Probably better this way. If we go at each other, even over something mundane, it’ll end in sex. Hate sex. Really fucking hot hate sex…
“Mason?”
“Mmm?” I ask without turning around. Focusing on the stove is the only thing keeping my mind—and my dick—in check.
“How clean are these sheets?”
I know they’re clean. These are my fishing cabins, and I have a well-oiled system. When I pick up passengers, they bring any used linen with them. I leave a clean set in each cabin in an air-tight container. Along with a pillow and single green wool blanket, reminiscent of my Army days. But I’m not about to tell Willow about the empire I’ve created in her absence. Not yet.
“This isn’t a five-star hotel, babe.”
I hear her shake out the folded sheet behind me, and steal a glance while she’s busy. She’s skinnier than when she left three years ago, but at least some of those delicious curves have survived the impossible Hollywood standards. Curves I’m dying to get my hands on.
