Northern Encounter. JENNIFER LABRECQUE
of everything he can while he’s here. Northern lights, wildlife, glaciers, footage of snow falling—a little bit of everything. Tomorrow we’re going to fly up and stay at the fishing cabin for a few nights. He wants to shoot the lights and we should be able to get some wolf and bird footage there as well.” He and Bellingham had exchanged a number of detailed emails. Bellingham had been very clear and straightforward about his taping objectives. In turn, Clint had made it very clear that it was cold and the cabin was rough, but it was well-situated to view and film the lights. Plus, a wolf pack was known to live in the area. They’d spend the rest of the time at the bed and breakfast which should also afford a good view of the lights from a different perspective while serving as a home base.
“That all sounds good,” Merrilee said.
The outing would be respectful of nature and the land, which appealed to Clint.
On the neat and tidy desk, the radio crackled. Dalton Saunders’s voice, complete with static, requested permission to land.
The plane’s lights appeared as Merrilee granted clear ance for the strip. Within a few minutes the small plane was on the ground and Saunders was opening the passenger door for Bellingham. Clint frowned. Not that it much mattered, but he’d figured Bellingham for an average guy. From here, though, it was clear he was far shorter than Saunders and, even in a hooded parka, pretty damn small. This was unexpected, but no problem. Clint didn’t mind hauling equipment and Kobuk was a working dog.
Bellingham and Saunders each grabbed a bag and crossed to the airfield door in the glow of the lights reflecting off the white snow.
The second they crossed the threshold Clint felt it—a shift inside him, an inexplicable feeling that passed through his body. It took him a second to realize what he felt was a connection, as if her energy had become his. And it was definitely a her—the face framed by the parka’s fur-lined hood was decidedly, unmistakably female. She had sparkling spruce-green eyes, pale skin with a smattering of freckles across a straight nose, and a smile that revealed faintly crooked teeth.
Thrown off-kilter by the woman and his reaction to her, Clint did something he seldom did. He spoke without thinking. “Where’s Bellingham?”
Saunders was definitely smirking. “Right here.”
The woman pulled off her gloves and pushed back her hood. Silky blonde hair fell in a near-white curtain to her shoulders. “I’m T. S. Bellingham.” She held out her hand. “You must be Mr. Sisnuket.”
Even though he’d never seen her before in his life, a surge of recognition coursed through him. The sense of recognition was so strong, it quite frankly scared the hell out of him. However, he couldn’t ignore her outstretched hand. His engulfed hers, and while her skin was warm and soft, her handshake was firm and decisive. Another shock wave coursed through him.
Her eyes widened, her lips parted, and she all but snatched her hand from him. She’d felt it too.
Merrilee launched into her welcoming spiel and Clint shoved his hand into his pocket, definitely thrown off his usual even keel. Dammit, this was what he should’ve felt with Ellie Lightfoot, one of his kind, not this green-eyed blonde. The last thing he wanted to do was spend nearly a week in this woman’s company. Five days couldn’t end soon enough.
TESSA BELLINGHAM forced herself to focus on the woman speaking to her rather than the man she’d just met.
“Welcome to Good Riddance, Alaska, where you can leave behind what troubles you,” said the woman who’d introduced herself as Merrilee Danville Weatherspoon. “Let me hang your coat over here for you.” Tessa shrugged out of the down-filled parka and handed it over. Merrilee looked Tessa up and down, her blue eyes sharp but kind. Tessa found the other woman’s lace-trimmed pink and gray flannel shirt charming. “And aren’t you just a surprise? We all thought you were a man.”
Smiling, Tessa nodded. “Sometimes it’s easier that way. I’ve used T.S. on all of my correspondence for years.” Single woman, no family—she’d learned early on it was better not to advertise to the world at large she was a female. A little gender confusion wasn’t a bad thing. “And when you make arrangements via the internet, whether you’re a male or female doesn’t usually come up.”
“Well, there is that. By the way, I love your beach video.”
“I’m glad. That’s always nice to hear.” A beautiful dark brown dog, with a white face, chest and front legs, and a light brown “mask,” crossed the room to sniff at her. The dog didn’t look particularly menacing, but neither did he appear overly friendly. No tail wagging accompanied his overture.
“Offer him your hand,” Clint Sisnuket said, the first words he’d spoken directly to her. His voice was deep, with a cadence that bespoke his native status. The errant thought occurred to her that she could just close her eyes and listen to him speak … and wouldn’t that just throw the whole room yet another curve ball.
He didn’t like her—the man, not the dog. Well, the dog might decide he didn’t like her either but for sure the man didn’t. Actually, dislike was too strong. She was getting an incredible sense of wariness from him. In fact, it was practically rolling off him in waves. Couldn’t the rest of the room sense it, too?
“He won’t think I’m offering him a snack, will he?” she said with a smile as she held out her hand.
“No, he prefers legs to hands at snack time.”
Tessa smiled. At least he had a sense of humor—even if it was a little lame. The dog sniffed her and then startled her when he bumped her hand with his head. “Kobuk likes you,” Clint Sisnuket said.
She ran her fingers lightly over the thick fur and scratched him behind his ears. “Hello, Kobuk, you handsome boy.” He wagged his upright, curling tail. “You like that, do you? I’m glad you like me.”
“But then again, Kobuk likes pretty much everyone.” Clint Sisnuket managed to make it sound faintly insulting, as if the dog’s standards were so low she shouldn’t find it remarkable he liked her. It was as if he was trying to deliberately put a distance between them.
She ground her teeth and persisted. “Malamute or husky? I’m not familiar enough with the two breeds to discern the difference.”
Wait, had Mr. Stoic/Hostile Native Guide just slipped up and allowed a glimmer of grudging admiration to slip through? “Malamute. He’s bigger than a husky.”
Merrilee and Dalton Saunders, the bush pilot, finished up their business. She liked Dalton with his sense of humor and easy-going smile, and Tessa had heard all about his fiancée, Dr. Skye Shanahan, on the flight from Anchorage to Good Riddance.
He’d been so obviously in love it had left Tessa wondering what it would be like to have a man feel that way about her—not that she needed anyone. She’d been on her own for so long, pretty much all her life. That’s what she knew and that’s what felt com fortable. She wasn’t so sure she would even know how to have a relationship like that. And the vulnerability … when you cared that much it left you wide open to intense heartbreak. But she’d liked hearing about it.
“Oh, yeah,” Merrilee said with a snap of her fingers. “I almost forgot, Dalton. Tell Skye that Gus is covering her on the Thanksgiving dish.”
“Will do. Gus is a good woman,” he said with a grin.
Gus was a woman? Okay.
“Our Thanksgiving celebration is week after next. The whole town gets together and everyone brings a dish,” Merrilee said by way of explanation. “Skye’s a good doctor but the girl can’t cook. And Skye’s busy, so my niece, Gus, is going to make a dish for her. Gus has the bar and restaurant next door—she trained as a chef in Paris.”
It was all a little confusing, but most of all it gave Tessa a funny feeling inside to think of the whole town turning out for Thanksgiving. Personally, she’d be just as happy skipping the last half of November and all of December. Family holidays had never been warm fuzzy