I sense the need to stay quiet and let him work through whatever’s on his mind, so I sit up and hug the sleeping bag tight to my body. And I selfishly admire his firm body. That ass I couldn’t see in those styleless baggy jeans? It’s there, alright. Round and rock hard, with two long red marks. From my nails, I realize. Several more marks span his back. I don’t even remember getting that rough with him.
“My dad was like that. He’d come right out and tell you what he thought of you, and a lot of the time, it wasn’t anything you’d want to hear. But he’d say it anyway. Couldn’t help himself. It was like he’d explode if he didn’t get it out.” He chuckles. “When I met Wren, I didn’t know what to think of him at first. He was this quiet man who kept his head down and seemed to just let things happen. Didn’t yell about anything. He was about as opposite to my dad in every way as you could get. I don’t think he knew what to think of me, either. I was pretty sure he was gonna can my ass within the first week. But George said I needed to come work for Wild, and I trusted George.”
I smile, thinking back to my dad’s words. “He said you were full of piss and vinegar when you started.”
Another chuckle. “Definitely not sugar and spice, that’s for sure.”
“He knew you were a good pilot.”
“It’s funny, you know, my dad may have taught me how to fly a plane, but Wren was the first one to ever tell me I was any good at it. Maybe if he had, I wouldn’t have bailed on the air force. Maybe I would have cared more to please him. I mean, I’d do anything for Wren.” He pauses. “I know he doesn’t have the best track record with you and God knows he has his faults, but he’s up there with the best guys I know. I’m . . .” His voice drifts with a hard swallow.
“I’m really glad Agnes called me. And that I came to Alaska,” I admit. That’s the first time I’ve actually said those words. It’s the first time I’ve truly felt them, deep down inside.
He turns his head, giving me his profile. “You mentioned staying in Alaska longer today.”
“Uh . . .” Yeah, in a moment of blind jealousy. “I wasn’t really thinking when I—”
“You should.” His gaze drifts outward again. “For Wren. The next few weeks . . . months . . . are gonna be hard. It’d be better if you were in Alaska for them. With him.”
“Is he even going to be around much, though? Sounds like he’ll be in Anchorage most of the time.”
Jonah’s quiet for a long moment. “He won’t ask you to put your life on hold for him, but he really likes having you around. I can tell.”
That’s basically what I’d be doing. Hitting “pause” on restarting my career at another bank, to wardrobe changes in Diana’s Tahoe and fashion shots, to Simon’s lattes and sage advice, to stilettos and clubs on Friday nights.
Back to a long-distance phone relationship with my dad.
And likely no relationship at all with Jonah.
My stomach tightens with the thought.
“Maybe you’re right. I don’t know what to do, though. I can’t just keep rebooking every week. They charged me two hundred bucks—”
“See if you can cancel your return ticket and rebook it when you’re ready.”
I actually might be able to do that. Simon did say it was flexible. As usual, Jonah makes it sound so simple.
“Your life will be waiting for you when you go back, and it won’t matter if it’s next week, or next month, or next year—”
“Next year!”
“Maybe not that long,” he mutters. “My point is, you won’t lose anything by staying. That life will still be there to go back to.”
My eyes drift over his perfect body again. I just spent two hours tangled up with this guy. “And what about this? If I did stay that long, don’t you think we just complicated things?” Because I’m definitely feeling something for Jonah, and it’s not just physical.
What will weeks, or months, of doing this do to us?
“Maybe, but I don’t ever let that shit stop me from doing what I need to do. I live my life by the day. And today, you’re here.” He pulls the door shut and turns to face me. My eyes can’t help but flicker downward. He certainly hasn’t had an adverse reaction to the cold air. “But we can stop this right now, if you want, if that’s going to be a deciding factor for you staying.”
An unexpectedly strong wave of disappointment hits me at the suggestion, at the thought that I won’t get to feel his mouth or his touch or his weight or his heat anymore. No, I do not want that. “Let’s not get hasty.”
He smirks. “I had a feeling you’d say that.” He strolls forward to drop to his knees at the end of the foam mat and yanks the sleeping bag off me. Gooseflesh springs over my skin instantly. Jonah’s eyes are like lasers drawing over my skin, taking everything in, deciding where to attack first.
I help him decide by stretching my body out for him, even as my stomach does a nervous flip.
His strong, rough-skinned hands seize my ankles and begin their slide upward, pushing my legs apart as they go, and all my worries about tomorrow are instantly forgotten.
Chapter 22