Looking for Trouble. Victoria Dahl
so...masculine.
She looked away before he turned around with her wine and a bottle of beer, and Sophie folded her hands demurely on the table.
He still looked big when he sat down. She knew she couldn’t hide her stare, so she didn’t even bother. “I like your tattoos.”
His head drew back a little in surprise. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Can I see this one?” She gestured toward his left arm.
He helpfully pulled his sleeve up to his shoulder.
“Wow,” she breathed.
Sophie wanted to reach out and touch, despite that she knew there’d be no texture. But the reds and blues and greens were so vivid, she imagined she’d feel something. It wasn’t just passive art. His arm was alive with it.
She’d never seen such deep colors on skin. Dark green pine trees rose up his biceps in stylized spikes outlined in black, but the tips disappeared into wisps of clouds. A bright blue river wound through the green and then down his thickly muscled forearm. It splashed between angled boulders of red and yellow and gray before the river tightened to a bright red ribbon that finally wound around his wrist.
“It’s really beautiful. It’s honestly the most beautiful tattoo I’ve ever seen.”
“Thanks. An artist in California did it. He’s really amazing. He’s the only one I go to now.”
“And that?” she asked, tipping her head toward his right arm, where a raven was drawn in stark black lines that looked like slashes.
“An earlier work.”
“I like it, too. You’ve got nice taste.”
A small smile, finally. “Not as nice as you. You like pretty dresses.”
That surprised a laugh out of her. “I do. I like pretty things.”
“Like me,” he said drily.
“Oh, sure. You’re my pretty treat for the night.” Stop, she told herself as she watched his nostrils flare a little. Stop flirting. Just tell him the truth and leave.
But her mouth refused to obey. Instead of speaking up, it quirked a secret little smile at the way his gaze had intensified. Sophie reached for her wine. “How long are you in town, Alex?”
“Through the weekend,” he answered. “Not long.”
“The dedication ceremony?”
He looked surprised for a moment, then he seemed to remember how small Jackson was and nodded. “Yeah. I’ll ride on as soon as the damn thing is over.”
Now it was her turn to be surprised, but she wasn’t going to press him on this issue, that was certain. It wasn’t a topic she wanted to intrude on. “Where do you live?”
One of his big shoulders rose in a shrug. “Here and there. I’m on my way to Alaska next month.”
“Alaska?” she gasped. “In October? Isn’t it already freezing there by then?”
“Not quite, but the work doesn’t stop during the winter.”
“What sort of work?” Her pulse quickened at the thought of Alaska. She wanted to see it, so badly.
“I’m a groundwater engineer. I work as a contractor for oil companies. Making sure they’re not fucking things up.”
“Is that the official engineering term?”
Now his mouth relaxed into a real smile, and she was shocked at how sweet he looked. “Pretty much. It’s a rough-and-tumble engineering field. Not a lot of scientists stationed in the places I go.”
“Is it always Alaska?”
“Not always. I travel a lot.”
Sophie’s thoughts were swirling almost too fast to catch one. She had a thousand questions about Alaska and a thousand more about where else he went and the things he’d seen. She took a drink of wine and grabbed hold of one question. “Tell me what it’s like. Alaska. Is it...is it amazing?”
“It’s pretty amazing. What do you want to know?”
“Everything,” she breathed before she realized how odd and greedy it sounded. “I mean... Where do you go? Are there polar bears? Is it dangerous? Is it cold?”
He chuckled. “You look like a little girl right now, wide-eyed and sparkling.”
A blush hit her hard and fast, and she reached for her wine again, trying to think of a way to backtrack.
“It’s cold, at least where I go. And barren, if you can use that word for something usually covered in snow and ice. I’ve been to the fields in the summer, and it’s different then. Like a savanna, I guess. Mile after mile of grass and sun and flies. You see caribou everywhere then. Foxes. Even some wolves. It’s beautiful and quiet.”
“Wow,” she breathed, her skin tingling at the idea. Or maybe it was the wine.
“You want another?” he asked, gesturing toward the glass she realized she’d drained.
“Yes,” she answered quickly. He’d barely touched his beer, but she didn’t care. Her buzz was pushed on by her excited pulse, and she felt deliciously alive.
Alex rose to get her another glass, and she realized her mistake then and almost grabbed his wrist to make him sit and keep talking. Thankfully, he was back within moments.
“And in the winter?” she pressed before he’d even sat down.
“In the winter, it’s cold and dark. It’s eerie, knowing you’re so far from anyone or anything. And it’s not so quiet. The wind blows day and night when it kicks up. When you’re inside, it sounds like you’re on a ship, and not a steady one.”
“Can you see the northern lights?”
“They’re pretty bright there in the winter.”
“That is so cool,” she murmured, not realizing she’d touched his arm until he looked down. She looked down, too. Her fingertips rested on a swirl of red ink. She let them linger for a moment, then let them whisper over the bright color until her touch slipped off his wrist.
“So it’s out on the tundra?” she asked, her voice slightly fainter than before. A heartbeat passed before he spoke.
“It is. Nothing but wild animals and crazy men out there.”
“You help drill for oil?”
“No, I’m there to piss people off. I do testing and make sure they’re obeying regulations.”
“And do they?”
He smiled. “They try. When there are eyes on them, at least.”
He looked like he’d fit in perfectly out there in a harsh land with rough men. “How long will you stay there?”
“For this gig, only three weeks. Sometimes I go for a week, sometimes six months.”
“Six months,” she murmured, trying to imagine that. Of living somewhere entirely new and knowing you’d be moving on soon. Everyone you saw would be a new person, a stranger. Every drive or hike or walk a new experience. Her skin prickled and she licked her lips. Physical and emotional desire twisted inside her and swelled.
She’d only ever lived in Jackson, really. She’d done most of her college work online, then gone to Laramie for her senior year to complete the courses she couldn’t take long-distance. Aside from a two-year monthly commute to Salt Lake City to get her MS in Library Science, she’d been at home. She had obligations here. People she couldn’t leave behind. She was connected. To her father and her brother. Even to her great-uncle, who’d asked her to rent his house until he could get out of the convalescent home. He didn’t want strangers living in his place, and no one had the heart