Chapter 3
Korren
I keep looking at Dex from the corner of my eye, sizing him up. It’s just my luck that I’ve been paired with the one other person on this crew who is most attached to that cabin.
Still, this is a better opportunity than I’d expected. I’ve just barely sorted my shit out enough to get myself here and in a job again, and I’m damn well committed to staying here through the winter. If I’m forced to go back down to the lower states, I don’t trust myself to stay sane.
And I’d be struggling to afford a rental here, even after paying off the flight up.
I like my personal space, which means no sharing with others, and all the non-shared rentals are fucking expensive.
There are probably a few rundown shacks around town, given this is middle-of-nowhere Alaska, but you’d need to know the right people to end up in one of those.
And here I am, knowing the right person.
I’m going to fucking win this challenge.
I’m not gay, but I’ve been through enough that there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to get that cabin. Without it, my life is basically over at the end of summer.
Everyone else drifts back toward the bonfire and raids the supply of whisky, tipping it into plastic cups and passing around a flask, while Dex and I hang back, watching each other and wondering when the challenge starts.
Shit. He really is set on winning as well.
This might not be as easy as I’d expected.
When Dex gets the bottle, he pours out a generous measure for each of us and hands me a cup.
I take it warily—I’ve had an unpredictable relationship with alcohol since the event that tore apart my life—but I decide right then that I don’t want to draw attention to myself by staying sober.
Social drinking is probably all right. I just won’t drink alone.
“So, what brings you to Copper Creek?” Dex asks.
I blink at him, surprised he wants to make small talk when we’re supposed to be rivals. “Is this the question you ask everyone when they first join the crew?”
“No. Half of them are from somewhere else. Only a few of us actually live here. But you’re one of the only guys angling for a winter job, which means you’ve come from down south and decided you want to stay here for whatever reason.”
“Do you live in Copper Creek?”
Dex nods. “I grew up here.” He takes a hearty swig of his whisky.
“It’s an odd sort of place, this. The town is beautiful, and it’s a tight-knit community, but it’s also in the middle of fucking nowhere, with a population of less than three thousand.
Everyone here either grew up in Copper Creek and never left, or they came for a season and fell in love with Alaska and moved here without knowing what they were getting themselves into.
” He eyes me strangely. “Or they were running away from something. There’s plenty of those too. ”
“That’s me,” I say with a forced grin.
Dex laughs. “The thing is, I don’t even know if you’re joking.”
I divert the conversation before he can dig further. “What about you? Have you never left, or—”
“I went to college down in Oregon for a bit.”
“But you came back?”
Dex makes a noise of assent, and I sense this is a topic he doesn’t want to discuss. Interesting. I hadn’t expected the laughing, charismatic nephew of the fire chief to have secrets of his own.
We lapse into silence, downing our whisky in a few burning swallows.
The sun is approaching the mountains across the lake, but it’s still remarkably high for this hour of the night.
And even though I’ve been on two long flights earlier today, the light is tricking me into forgetting I’ve been up since four in the morning.
Everyone always talks about the long nights up here, but I don’t think they give enough credit to the equally long summer days.
Something about the midnight sun has me feeling more clear-headed than I have in a long time—I look at the endless backcountry stretching past Copper Creek and feel an itch to pull on a pair of hiking boots and explore, which is something I haven’t felt in a long time.
The whisky comes around again, and Dex tops up my cup without asking.
I’m surprised he’s still hanging out here with me when I’m not exactly the most engaging conversation partner.
He’s looking deep into the bonfire, as if he’ll find the secret of life somewhere in the mess of sparks and glowing embers, so I study him covertly, wondering what it’ll be like kissing a guy.
He’s very much the image of a firefighter, with muscles that show through his shirt and rugged features beneath his sandy hair. But the constant smile dispels some of the toughness, and he’s clean-shaven, which is a plus.
Right when I’m looking at his mouth, wondering if it’s going to be hard to stomach kissing him, Chief Rhodes calls out, “Time for the first challenge! Pair up and give each other a kiss!”
My face heats up, and I drag my gaze away from Dex’s mouth. Even though I’m committed to seeing this through no matter how far it goes, I don’t want anyone thinking I’m gay. No one here knows me, so this is going to be their first impression of me. I’d better not fuck this up.
The group slowly pairs up—there are fourteen guys in total, so seven pairs starting out—and Dex raises his cup of whisky to tap it against mine.
We both lean forward, and I expect Dex to shy away, but he doesn’t. We both just keep leaning, until suddenly his lips are on mine.
Then, as quick as it started, he’s pulling back and breaking the kiss.
It was too fleeting for me to react to, but his lips are warm and soft and it reminds me that it’s been fucking ages since I last kissed anyone.
There are whoops from around the group, and I straighten to see other pairs leaning in, a few of the guys screwing up their faces as they get close. Two of the pairs turn their heads aside at the last moment, laughing, so it’s down to five pairs.
Dex gives me a grin, and I realize he has dimples. I’m worried about his enthusiasm. He obviously isn’t going to give up that cabin without a fight.