Northern Encounter Read online

  “You know there’s no running water.”

  She slanted him an amused glance. “Of course, we discussed it in the email. Mr. Sisnuket—”

  “Clint. Everyone calls me Clint.”

  She dipped her head. “Okay. Clint. I just want to make it clear that I know what I’m getting into. I’ve traveled to some very remote places under fairly primitive conditions to make my videos. I get it. No electricity. No running water. I’m good with that. All the correspondence we exchanged—that was me. I’m tougher than I obviously must look. I’m not a weak link and I’m not a prima donna. I can hold my own on this trip.”

  That remained to be seen. “Okay.”

  “I know you’re not convinced—” he wasn’t but he didn’t think she knew that “—but I’d appreciate you bringing an open mind to this…the whole not judging a book by its cover thing.”

  He was fairly quick but it took a second for Clint to realize that she’d pretty much just accused him of bigotry. Indignation rolled through him. He’d had his first rancid taste of bigotry at the hands of his mother’s family when he’d moved with her to Montreal. His mother who’d shown up in Good Riddance with a film crew from Montreal. His father should have known better. Should have known the woman from the city with her fair skin and hair would never truly adapt to native life in a small Alaskan village. His father should’ve known, but he’d listened to his heart rather than his head, and against his family and tribe’s wishes, he’d married Georgina Wallace. A year later Clint had been born.

  When Clint was five his mother had thrown in the towel on her marriage and living in the Alaskan wilds and moved back to Montreal. It had been a horrible experience for Clint. He missed his father and his extended family, especially his cousin Nelson, who was almost as close as a brother to him, as well as the lifestyle. It hadn’t helped that his mother’s family thought she’d married beneath her, and they certainly hadn’t welcomed a half-breed child who looked full native.

  And as if he hadn’t learned his lesson well enough, when he’d gone to college at the University of Alaska, he’d been involved with Carrie, a blue-eyed blonde who’d eventually told him she could never get serious with him since she couldn’t deal with having mixed race children.

  So, if Tessa wanted to know what it was like to be judged by her looks alone, he could tell her about that all day long. He opened his mouth to say just that…and then snapped it shut. She was right.

  He’d been perfectly comfortable with taking T. S. Bellingham on this trip. Through their correspondence, he’d ascertained T.S. was competent and knew precisely what to expect from the trip. However, he’d taken one look at the curvy blonde with the delicate features and decided she was going to be problematic and incompetent. Not only had he displayed bigoted behavior, he’d brought his own set of prejudices with him and found her lacking without even giving her a chance.

  This time when he opened his mouth, he offered an apology. “You’re right. I’m sorry about that. I’ve definitely been on the receiving end. I suppose sometimes it’s easy to see in others what’s so difficult to spot in ourselves.”

  She smiled. Pure. Spontaneous. Lovely. And his heart responded of its own accord, soaring like the mighty eagle, his animal totem, his animal brother.

  “Wow. You really are a rare breed of man, Clint Sisnuket.”

  “How’s that?”

  Her smile pushed his soaring to new heights. “You’re a man…and you just apologized.”

  Unfortunately for him, he was all too aware of just how much of a man he was…and just how much of a woman he was sitting next to. Soaring was a very bad idea.

  3

  WHILE THE OTHERS CHATTED to one another in the airstrip office, Merrilee pushed her glasses to the bridge of her nose and tried to relax. She’d been as nervous as a cat on a hot tin roof ever since she’d gotten that stupid letter postmarked from Georgia three and a half weeks ago. “It’s been a long time. We have things we need to talk about. I’m ready to give you what you want.” The words were practically burned into her brain. The only thing she wanted from him at this point was an obituary notice—his.

  “Penny for them,” Bull said, interrupting her reverie. He gave her a long scrutinizing look from his sherry-colored eyes. That had been the first thing she’d noticed when she met Bull Swenson twenty-five years ago. Her grandmother had kept sherry on her sideboard in a cut-crystal decanter. As a child, Merrilee had thought nothing was prettier than when the sun’s rays turned the liquid to molten golden brown. When she’d first gazed into Bull’s eyes, and it had been like staring at sun-lit sherry. In that instant, she’d been done for.

  Now anxiety tightened her chest. Bull meant everything to her. What would happen if he found out that she hadn’t been honest with him? How would he react if he found out part of their relationship was predicated on a lie?

  She forced a laugh. “Just a penny? No way. You’ll have to ante up more than that. I may be easy, but Merrilee Weatherspoon is not cheap, sir.”

  Bull laughed along with her but there was a watchfulness about his weathered face that told her that he knew her well enough to sense her unrest. Luckily the two-way radio chose that moment to crackle to life.

  She gave the transmission a go ahead and then couldn’t believe what she heard. Dalton and Bull stared open-mouthed. She asked for a repeat. Nope they’d all heard right. Despite the impending storm, a plane was enroute from Anchorage, requesting permission to land at Good Riddance. Someone was in for a rough ride. And though they were booked slap-dab full at the bed and breakfast, there was no way she could refuse an incoming plane landing in light of the storm. She radioed back an affirmative.

  She looked at Bull, Dalton, Clint and Tessa Bellingham.

  Bull quirked a speculative eyebrow. “Someone’s either crazy as a shithouse rat or desperate.”

  “Maybe both. I hope whoever is flying that plane charged double—” Dalton glanced out the window at the wind kicking up a dust storm of snow “—make that triple.”

  “It’s Durden,” Merrilee said, identifying the pilot by the information in the landing request.

  Clint nodded. “Durden’s a little bit of both. And he’ll have to stay over too.”

  Dalton leaned against the edge of the desk. “Yep. Nobody will be flying out in this tonight.”

  Merrilee forced a smile. “Good thing we keep extra sleeping bags on hand.” She glanced over at Bull.

  “And if need be I can bunk over at your place.”

  “Anytime. All the time,” he said. She and Bull had always maintained separate residences. It just seemed to work better that way even though she knew he wished they shared the same roof all the time. He’d asked her to marry him more times than she could shake a stick at.

  Bull was a good man. Even though she’d fallen for him hard the first time she’d met him, she’d spent the next several years waiting to discover that beneath it all, he was a jerk, that ultimately he’d let her down.

  Twenty-five years later, she’d finally accepted he wouldn’t let her down. Far from being a jerk, he’d proved himself a man of integrity. When Bull gave his word on something, you could count on it. In Bull’s book, a man was only as good as his word.

  “Y’all might as well head on over to Gus’s and grab some dinner while I wait on these fools to show up,” Merrilee said. As much as anything, she needed some time alone. “No need in everyone being hungry.”

  “I’ll bring you a plate over,” Bull said. “You hungry for anything in particular?”

  “Whatever today’s special is will be fine.” She actually had no appetite but that would simply have Bull scrutinizing her more closely since she hardly ever missed a meal.

  “I’ll be back in a few.”

  Clint, Tessa, Dalton and Bull used the pass-thru door, giving her a few minutes alone.

  Merrilee gnawed at the inside of her cheek. Sometimes when the truth went untold, the longer it lay there the deeper it became buried.

&
nbsp; But now the skeletons in Merrilee’s closet were beginning to rattle and she didn’t like it a bit. Not even a little.

  Tessa looked around her, drawn in by all of the noise, scents and general good fun. They’d walked through the adjoining doors between the airfield and the eatery and Tessa instantly loved it. She was totally digging the old-fashioned bar, complete with brass footstand, lined with an assortment of customers, most of them rugged and a bit rough around the edges. Booths and tables fought for floor space with pool tables, a small stage and a dart board. It was somewhere between a throw-down bar and an upscale diner which meant it defied definition. That made her like it all the more. Uniqueness drew her like nothing else did.

  Dean Martin crooned over a speaker system and the smells coming from the kitchen were heavenly.

  Tessa was terrible at guessing ages, but a woman who appeared to be in her mid to late-twenties approached, a welcoming smile on her face. With her dark hair accented by one bold streak of white in front, she wasn’t so much pretty as she was striking. She extended a hand, “Hi. Welcome, I’m Gus.”

  Tessa took the woman’s hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Tessa Bellingham.” Gus had a nice, firm handshake. “It smells great in here.” Tessa smiled. “I’m suddenly very aware that lunch was a long time ago.” As if to lend credence to her words, her stomach issued a loud growl.

  Everyone laughed and Gus said, “So it seems. We’ll fix you right up. With the storm coming in we’re pretty crowded tonight. Do you mind sharing a table? Skye and Nelson have a big table over near the pool tables.”

  Skye was the name of Dalton Saunders’s fiancée. Tessa would like to meet her. “Table sharing is fine with me. The more the merrier.”

  Bull spoke up. “Gus, how about you put together two plates of today’s special for me and Merrilee. She’s waiting on some idiot to fly in before this storm really hits. I’ll keep her company while she’s manning the airstrip.”

  “Give us a second and we can pull that together for you,” Gus said. She turned back to the rest of them. “I’ll send Teddy over to take your orders.”

  Gus bustled off in the direction of the open kitchen that overlooked the bar area and dining room. Dalton led the way through the dining room tables, with Clint bringing up the rear. Oddly enough, Tessa was infinitely more aware of Clint behind her than all of the other people in the room. It was as if she was tuned into his energy.

  They reached the table and Dalton kissed a pretty woman—his fiancée, Tessa guessed—with pale freckled skin, brilliant blue eyes and striking curly red hair. Skye Shanahan and Dalton Saunders made a cute couple.

  The man sitting at the table with Skye had long, black hair pulled into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, and his high cheekbones and skin tone indicated he was a native. Skye introduced him to Tessa as Nelson Sisnuket, Clint’s cousin and Skye’s assistant. Both Skye and Nelson made Tessa feel welcome and comfortable.

  Skye smiled at Tessa across the table. “Unless you have issues with meat or wild game, you really should try the moose ragout. It’s great.”

  Tessa nodded. “The moose ragout it is, then. When I’m someplace new, I like to try the local dishes.”

  Nelson laughed. “That’s about as local as you can get. And the moose is fresh.” He shot Skye a teasing look. “It was just delivered yesterday.”

  A flush of red crawled up Skye’s neck and face. Dalton chuckled. Clint offered a slow smile that sent a shiver down her spine.

  “The moose came from a fellow who trespassed on Dalton’s property,” Nelson said, “and worse, he tried to poach Skye, as well. He offered the moose as restitution and Dalton had him send it to Gus.”

  Dalton grinned and shrugged. “Hey, we eat here often enough. I don’t cook, and well, let’s just say we’re better off with Gus cooking the moose than Skye.”

  “Watch it, buddy,” Skye said with a laugh.

  “So, he was going to give you a moose?” Tessa was still stuck on that bit.

  Skye rolled her eyes. “I thought it was really weird at first too. Frighteningly, you soon get used to the way things are done in Good Riddance. The town has a way of winding its way into your heart.”

  “I thought it was me,” Dalton said. “Now you’re telling me it’s really just the town you came back for.”

  The teasing interplay between the couple was fun and stirred a longing inside Tessa. It made her all the more conscious of Clint, who was sitting to her right.

  Nelson shook his head in Tessa’s direction. “Good Riddance can have that effect on some people. Gus came four years ago and never did go back to New York.”

  “Gus is the best thing that ever happened to Good Riddance,” Dalton said.

  “You are so sleeping on the couch tonight,” Skye said.

  “Sorry, honey, it’s my stomach talking instead of my heart.”

  Tessa laughed aloud and Dalton shot her a grin. “Just wait. You are in for a treat.”

  Skye nodded. “Gus trained in Paris.”

  “Wow. And she wound up here?”

  “I told you,” Nelson said, “Good Riddance has that effect on people.”

  “And sometimes the infatuation with wilderness living wears off after a while. Not everyone who decides to move here winds up staying,” Clint said. His tone was neutral but there was something about him, the way he held his body, that made her think there was some personal story behind his words.

  “No doubt about it, Good Riddance can be an acquired taste,” Dalton said.

  It was early on but so far Tessa liked what she’d seen of Good Riddance. Clint’s arm brushed against hers and an awareness quivered through her. There were some things in Good Riddance she liked more than others, and unfortunately for her peace of mind, the man sitting next to her was at the top of that list.

  SWEET JESUS, HAVE MERCY! Merrilee eyed the man in front of her with a mixture of loathing and contempt. It had been twenty-five years since she’d seen him and it still wasn’t long enough. Of course, she’d pretty much counted on never seeing his sorry ass again and this was still too soon. However, it appeared to be Theodore Jackson Weatherspoon, better known as Tad, standing in the airstrip office.

  At least she was fairly certain it was Tad…or maybe just some very bad approximation thereof. The overhead light glinted off his poorly placed hair plugs, and he’d dyed the whole mess some funky orangish-yellow color she supposed was meant to be a shade of blonde. And that was all set off by his spray-on tan. And while Tad had favored button-down Ralph Lauren paired with khakis, this fool was wearing a graphic T-shirt that had obviously come from one of those mall stores which catered to teens and twenty-somethings. And what was he thinking wearing jeans that hung low on his hips? Better yet, what was he thinking with the twenty-something with the collagen lips and silicon boobs hanging on his arm?

  “Wassup, Merrilee?”

  “Tad?” She nearly pinched herself to verify this wasn’t some crazy nightmare, although she’d blessedly not dreamed of Tad in all the time since she’d left him.

  He grinned like the total jackass he was. “Not bad for a fifty-one-year-old, huh?”

  “Except you’re not fifty-one, ace. You’re sixty-three.”

  The blonde next to Tad pursed her lips in equal parts of displeasure and surprise. “Sixty-three, Daddy?”

  “Merrilee’s confused, baby doll.” Tad patted Baby Doll’s hand then turned to Merrilee with what she supposed was intended to be a charming boyish smile. “You never were very good at math, were you, Merry?”

  She wanted to instruct him to kiss her lily-white ass but under the circumstances she figured she had to play relatively nice. She did not, however, intend to lie down and roll over. He might have the upper hand, to some extent, but he was still on her turf. “Don’t call me Merry.”

  Before Tad could respond, Bull came through the connecting door from Gus’s carrying two plates. She could see him sizing up the newcomers as he crossed the room and placed the plates on the de
sk. He nodded and introduced himself, offering his hand, “Bull Swenson.”

  “Tad Weatherspoon,” the jackass said, shaking Bull’s hand.

  Of course he recognized the name, he’d only known about Tad for nearly twenty-five years. Bull slanted a quick glance Merrilee’s way before saying to Tad, “Ah, the ex-husband, huh?”

  It was Tad’s turn to glance at Merrilee. “In the flesh.”

  “This is Jenna,” Tad said, motioning to the woman at his side as if he was presenting a prize ribbon at the county fair.

  “I’m his fiancée,” Baby Doll, nee Jenna, said, holding out her hand, not to offer a handshake but to flash her three-carat, Princess-cut diamond. Merrilee could still size up a diamond from across the room. Tad had obviously gone for quantity rather than quality as the clarity was poor, but she doubted Baby Doll knew the difference.

  “Pleased to meet you, Jenna. Nice ring.” Bull, ever the gentleman, despite his rough-around-the-edges appearance, admired the jewelry.

  “She wanted bling, so she got bling,” Tad said.

  Bling? Oh, boy.

  “Are you hungry, Jenna, honey?” Merrilee asked, and continued without waiting for the younger woman to respond. “And I bet you could use a drink after what was surely a bumpy ride. Bull, why don’t you take Jenna over to Gus’s while Tad and I sort out their arrangements for tonight.”

  It was thin, but it was the best she could do on short order. However, Bull’s expression clearly told her she had some explaining to do before the evening ended.

  The door had barely closed behind them when she faced Tad. “What do you want?” She had no idea how much time she had with him alone and there was no point in beating around the bush.

  “Well, hell, Merry, it’s been twenty-five years and that’s the best you can do?”

  She’d told him not to call her Merry but that darn sure wasn’t a hill to die on. She let it slide. “Tad, let’s get something straight right up front. If you breathe a word to a single soul here that we’re still married, I’ll gut you like a bottom-feeding catfish.”