Chapter 1
Hunter
“Hunter Stewart? Sure I remember you! I didn’t know you folks were interested in getting into the TV biz. I would’ve hit you up ages ago as a location scout. We need those folks for every reality show we make.”
Here’s something most people don’t understand about Alaska.
It’s small.
Really small.
Sure, it’s the largest state in the United States by landmass, but we’re the smallest when it comes to population. That’s right. Number one in size. (Heh heh.) Number fifty in inhabitants. That means that the degrees of separation between me and someone else who grew up here can be, and often are, pretty tight.
Right now, I’m talking to my dental hygienist’s nephew, Nick, who works for KYES, the UPN affiliate in Ketchikan, Alaska. He never lived in Skagway, but he spent a few summers up here with his aunt and uncle, and we met through his cousin, who was one of my classmates. He remembered my family as soon as I mentioned my name and where I was from.
“This is a little new for me,” I tell him. “Aside from hosting guests at our campground in Dyea, we mostly do tours and transfers out of Skagway. But when I heard that The Astonishing Race was doing an Alaska-only season, I thought I’d reach out and see if there was any way we could work together.”
“I’m glad you did,” he says, shuffling around some papers in the background. “I need someone, and fast. We’ve already got a Locations Manager and one Locations Assistant, but we’re still missing one more Locations Assistant. You interested?”
To be honest, I didn’t expect it to be this easy.
I haven’t talked to my family about working with The Astonishing Race this summer, and even with McKenna taking on more responsibility this season, there’s a good probability I’ll still be needed in Skagway. But I like the idea of bringing in a new income stream...in addition to my other, more personal, reasons.
“Tell me a little more about the job.”
“Sure. The show’s route is south to north, split into three segments. First part is the panhandle. They start in Ketchikan. We ferry them to Sitka, Juneau, Skagway, and Whittier. Second leg is Whittier to Anchorage, to Talkeetna, and finally to Fairbanks.”
“By car?”
“Nope. Buses, vans and hired drivers.”
“Third leg?”
“We fly ’em from Fairbanks to Nome, and then from Nome to Utqia?vik.”
“I have to be frank, Nick, I haven’t traveled a whole lot up north. Never even been to Utqia?vik.”
“You still know a hundred percent more about that area than our contestants do.”
That’s probably true.
Nick continues. “You’ve seen the show, right? They do two challenges a day—one general challenge and one detour—then they race to the pit stop, and they’ve got about twelve hours to eat, shower, sleep, etc.” He pauses for a second. “Any questions so far?”
“Not really. Seems straightforward. Tell me about the job.”
“Right. So our Locations Manager for this show is Rick Jones, son of Landry Jones. You know Landry?”
“Not personally,” I say, “but I think my dad does. His company is way bigger than ours.”
“Biggest provider of travel services in the state,” says Nick. “He’s got travel and tour contractors all the way from Seattle up to the North Slope. We wanted Landry to be the Locations Manager, but he recently had some health issues, so he suggested Rick instead. We assign two people to work with him as assistants.” Nick clears his throat. “I don’t want to lie to you, Hunter. I’ve met Rick. He’s kind of a douche.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah.” He sighs. “Wouldn’t feel right to bring you on without telling you that. I’m not a fan.”
Hmm. Okay. But the fact remains that Landry Jones has a good reputation in local tourist circles, and if anything, being better acquainted with the Jones family could end up helping our business in Skagway in the long run. Douche or not, knowing Rick Jones might be worthwhile.
“My mom always used to say that forewarned is forearmed. I’ll be ready to deal with him,” I say. “What’s the pay like?”
“Nothing to write home about,” he says, shuffling through a few more papers. “Looks like $300 a day. We shoot from June first to June twenty-first. Works out to about $6100 total, with room and board included, so the salary’s yours to keep. We rent a ferry for the first leg—picture a floating motel—and you’d stay in the same lodgings as the contestants for the second and third legs.”
Three weeks away from Skagway with only $6100 to show for it. I take a deep breath. Is it worth it?
As though reading my mind, Nick asks, “You mind my asking why you’re interested in doing this? June’s gotta be your high season in Skagway with the cruise ships coming through three to five a day. Don’t get me wrong! I’d be delighted to have a Stewart helping out on the show; I’m just wondering why.”
“I like the idea of making inroads into TV production,” I tell him. “I’ve been working for my family’s business since I was in high school. Thought I’d shake things up a little this summer. Who knows? Location scouting—or management, for that matter—could be a new side gig for us.”
I don’t mention my other reason for wanting to be involved with the show, but an image of her flashes behind my eyes.
Dark-brown eyes. Dark-brown hair. The hottest girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. The best sex I’ve ever had…and she dumped me. She fucking dumped me.
Ever since I found out that Isabella Gonzalez was coming back up to Alaska as a contestant of The Astonishing Race, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her...or those two text messages that torpedoed any possible future for us.
Do I want a second chance with her? God, I hope not.
Do I want answers from her? Definitely.
Moreover, I need them.
Until I understand why she broke things off between us, I don’t think I can move on. And I want to move on. I mean...fuck! I haven’t had sex in months, and I’m getting frustrated. But every time I get close to sealing the deal with someone new, I think about her—about the heat between us, and how right it felt to be with her. The fact that we were only together for a few weeks doesn’t seem to matter to my heart. She made a big impression on me and I’m having trouble letting go. Maybe getting some answers will lead to closure.
Not to mention, I’m a big believer in fate, and when I was getting my teeth cleaned last week, Nick’s aunt mentioned—out of the blue—that Nick was working on the show. I flinched so hard when she said, The Astonishing Race: Alaska, her plaque scraper slipped into my gums, making me bleed.
“Could definitely be a great side gig for the Stewarts,” agrees Nick. “TV audiences can’t get enough of reality shows in Alaska. There will definitely be more, and we’ll always need locals on the ground to help.”
“Nick, could you give me a few days to think it over?”
“I can give you a week,” he says. “Filming starts next month so if you don’t want the job, I need time to find someone else.”
“Got it.”
“I hope you take it,” he says. “We’d be lucky to have you. And if everything goes well, I’ll start using the Stewarts for all the stuff we pipe through Skagway.”
“I’ll call you back by the end of the week,” I promise.
We hang up, and I pocket my cell phone, staring out at the Taiya River, back behind our campground. I purposely walked a half mile away from the lodge to avoid eavesdroppers like my nosy little sisters. Well, that, and I wanted to check out the progress on my new house.
In a sweet spot, just steps away from the river, I’ve had a concrete pad poured for the modular cabin that I bought in March. It’s being delivered in mid-July, and I should be able to move in about two weeks later. It’s not huge, and it’s not too fancy; for fifty thousand hard-earned dollars, I chose a two-bedroom, one-bathroom cabin with a full kitchen, living room/dining room combination and front porch. It’s only eight hundred square feet, but it’s going to be perfect for me.
Not that I don’t love living with my brothers, but I’m a thirty-one-year-old man. It’s time for me to have my own place, and with the land cleared and the concrete poured, I can just about picture it finished.
The alarm dings on my phone, reminding me that I’ve got to get back for an eleven-clock tour in Skagway. I turn away from the river, hoisting my rifle back onto my shoulder as I head back to the campground.
I’m pretty sure I can sell this idea to the rest of the family on a business level. Breaking into TV location scouting and management wouldn’t be a bad thing for our business, and I know my dad will approve of me working with Landry Jones’s company. A stronger connection between the Stewarts of Skagway and the most successful Alaskan tour operator in the state could only be a good thing for us. The more I think about it, the more I’m sure my dad will bend over backward to make sure our local commitments are covered and give me his blessing to work on the show.
But my sisters and McKenna won’t be fooled. They’ll suspect my motives have something to do with Isabella.
And on some level, I admit to myself, they’ll be right.
Being trapped with Isabella for a few weeks should guarantee that I get an opportunity to talk to her and find out why she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, give us a chance. Because the kind of heat we had? The connection? The chemistry? Whew. You just don’t find that every day.
To be clear, when Tanner arranged for McKenna’s best friend to come north last summer and asked me to pick her up from the airport, I never expected to fall for her. It never even occurred to me. Like Tanner, I’d dated seasonal employees off and on over the years and even fallen pretty hard for a couple of the girls I’d dated. But truth told, I hadn’t been serious with anyone for a long time. I liked being single. I liked playing the field.
Until I met Isabella.
From the second I picked her up from the airport,
It. Was. On.
Our conversation back to the campground was packed with innuendo, and when I dropped her off at McKenna’s cabin, she dropped her eyes to my crotch, raised them slowly to my face, and asked if we could get together later.
I told her I’d pick her up at eleven.
She snuck out of bed after McKenna was sleeping, jumped in my pickup, and I drove us out to my favorite stargazing spot. The back of my truck was our bed. The stars were our witnesses. And our cries blended in with the night.
Fuck, that girl was hot.
Two more nights followed the first, and instead of feeling exhausted by the end, I felt…bereft. I felt so fucking sad to say goodbye to her, I couldn’t believe it. I’d fallen for her and how.
So when I drove her to the airport, I asked if she wanted to give us a shot, positive she’d say yes.
“I know you live in Seattle, and I live here, but you’ll be back to see McKenna, and it’s easy enough for me to fly south for visits once the summer ends, so I was hoping—”
“You want to keep in touch,” she’d said bleakly.
“Definitely,” I’d told her. “I’d like to give this a chance and see what happens. How about you?”
“Normally,” she’d said, her eyes severe, “I’d say no. I’m not a fan of long-distance relationships. They don’t work. They never work.”
“Maybe we’d be the exception?” I’d suggested with a small, hopeful shrug.
“Unlikely,” she’d whispered.
“Hey. C’mon. Why not give it a try?”
“Why not?” she’d asked with a scoff. “I can give you a million reasons why not.”
“Then I’ll give you one great reason for why we should,” I’d said, deciding then and there to shoot my shot, emotionally speaking. “I like you, Bella. I really like you. And I think you really like me, too.”
She’d gasped softly before slamming her lips into mine, and we’d kissed each other like the world was ending…which, in some ways, felt accurate.
“Text me,” she’d said, her voice terse and doubtful. “We’ll see what happens.”
Then she’d grabbed her suitcase, jumped out of my truck, and slammed the door shut behind her.
I’d watched her strut into the terminal feeling hopeful.
And for a few weeks, we did it—we gave things a shot.
We exchanged some of the hottest texts I’ve ever written or received. We had the kind of phone sex that made me come almost from her words alone. We could do this! We were going to be a long-distance dating success story! We were beating the odds. We were the exception.
Until we weren’t.
Right around the time McKenna’s grandmother died, I got a text from Isabella that read: Hi, Hunter. Sorry, but this isn’t working for me. I told you from the beginning that long-distance never works. I think we need to call it quits before someone gets hurt. I wish you the best.
Shocked and hurt by the abruptness and finality of her message, I asked her if I’d done something wrong. I begged her to give us a little more time. I bought a ticket to fly down to Seattle and told her I was coming. I tried calling, but she wouldn’t pick up.
Another, colder text message followed the first. It read: Don’t come. Please refund your ticket. It was just a weekend fling, Hunter. Let it go. Move on.
That hurt.
And it was fucking humiliating.
Not eager to be branded a stalker, I stopped calling. I stopped texting. I didn’t fly down to Seattle to see her. Just as she’d asked, I let go.
But I didn’t move on.
All of this happened at the very beginning of the dark, quiet season in Skagway, which meant I had plenty of time to think and very little to distract me. My feelings of ardor cooled. My feelings of rejection, anger, and confusion multiplied.
We were “together” for just over a month, talking at least once a day, with a substantial level of intimacy established and growing between us. Why had she broken things off so suddenly? And when I asked for her to reconsider, why did she feel the need to be so fucking cold? Had it all been some kind of game to her? Because it certainly hadn’t been to me.
By the time Tanner’s wedding rolled around, I was pretty certain I hated her, and maybe I did…until I saw her again. My heart thundered. My body tightened. I still wanted her. (Shit.) I still had feelings for her. (Fuck.) I couldn’t help my attraction or my feelings, and profoundly resented both.
She’d broken up with me over text message, rejecting me without a proper conversation; without much civility or any kindness. It was humiliating and hurtful. So, when she mentioned her plans to compete on The Astonishing Race this summer, yes, it bothered me to know she’d be back in Alaska.
But now? It’s my chance to get some answers.
Thanks to Nick’s job offer, I’ll have the perfect opportunity to confront the girl who broke my heart, and—lord help me—I’ll finally be able to move on.
***
“So you’re just…leaving?” asks Parker over dinner. “For three whole weeks?”
“It’s a good opportunity,” I tell her. “I can network with Rick Jones and possibly get us future gigs with upcoming TV shows. Luckily, McKenna’s ready to pick up some slack this summer. I think it’s a win-win.”
“I tend to agree,” says my father thoughtfully. “It’s a new angle, the TV business. I’m not against it.”
“But, Dad, McKenna wasn’t planning to do solo tours yet,” says Tanner, darting an annoyed glance at me. “She and I were going to work together as a team this summer.”
I roll my eyes and scoff. “She can easily do Beers, Brawls, and Brothels solo, bro.”
“Sure I can,” says McKenna, placing a pacifying hand over Tanner’s and grinning at me. “I learned a lot with Bruce last summer. The rest I can learn on the fly. I don’t mind at all, Hunter.”
“Best sister-in-law ever,” I tell her with a wink. Then I turn to Tanner with a smirk. “See? It’s fine.”
He narrows his eyes at me, looking pissed. He was probably looking forward to a long, hot summer canoodling with his new wife in the woods. Well, too bad. We all have to make sacrifices in a family business, and he knows it.
“So,” asks Reeve, all sweet and wide-eyed, “what show will you be working on?”
“Huh?”
“Just wondering if we’ve heard of it,” she adds with a shit-eating grin.
She’s such a stinker. Since when did my littlest sister get so wise? She doesn’t miss a thing anymore.
“Does it matter, Reeve?”
“I’m just curious. You said you were going to be on the production crew of a TV show, right?” She blinks her eyes at me, the very picture of innocence, the little rat. “Which show, Hunter?”
“A reality show. I already said.”
She leans her elbows on the table. “Which one?”
“Um…” I dig into my potatoes. “I forget. Like, The Amazing Journey or something like that.”
“Wait!” exclaims McKenna. “The Astonishing Race? Oh my god, Hunter! Did you know that Isabella’s going to be a contestant on that show?”
I turn to McKenna, putting on a performance worthy of Reeve. “Really?”
“Yes! I remember now!” says Parker. “She mentioned it to Harper at the wedding. And Harp told me and Reeve.”
“That’s right,” says Reeve, turning to me. “And weren’t you sitting there when she shared that news, Hunt?”
“Shut up, Reeve,” I mutter.
“Isn’t that something?” McKenna asks Tanner. “Hunter and Isabella will be working on the same show!”“It’s something alright,” says Tanner, his glare at me changing from annoyed to downright murderous.
“I gotta go check something at the…um, the thing,” I say, getting up from the table. I glance at Gran. “I’ll come back to help with clean-up.”
She waves me away, but by the time my boots hit the porch of the lodge, Tanner’s right behind me.
“It’s no coincidence,” he grunts, following me down the stairs.
“So what?”
“So…” he says, following me to the cabin we used to share, “what’s your plan, exactly? You’re not Isabella’s biggest fan, as you’ve made abundantly clear. And if you upset Isabella, it’ll upset McKenna. And if you hurt my wife, you’ve got a world of pain coming to you, brother.”
My wife.
My wife.
Geez, but he loved throwing those two words around. Can’t go three steps anywhere without hearing about Tanner’s wife.
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell him, hopping up the steps of my cabin, and opening the front door.
He follows me inside.
“Fuck!” he bellows. “It smells like a locker room in here.”
“We don’t all have a wife to clean for us.”
“You’re funny if you think McKenna’s my housekeeper,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest as I grab a beer from the fridge.
“Want one?”
“No,” he says. “I want to know why you’re working on Isabella’s show when you’ve got nothing nice to say about her.”
I pop the cap off the bottle, lean against the back of the couch and face him. “Like I said, it’s a good—”
“Business opportunity?” he says. “Cut the shit, Hunter. Every time you got drunk over the winter, we had to hear about what a fickle bitch Isabella was.”
I take a swig of Bud. “So what?”
“So you’re saying that the two are unrelated? Isabella being a contestant on the show and you being a location scout?”
“Location Assistant.”
“What-the fuck-ever.” He pins me with eyes as blue as my own. “Be real with me, please.”
I take a deep breath, looking down at the bottle in my hands, then shrug. “You know what? I deserve answers.”
“Answers?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Answers. You know, we never even had a conversation? I got two texts from her: one said it was over and the other said not to come visit and get over it. I want to know what happened. I want to know why.”
“Why can’t you just leave well enough alone?”
“Because it isn’t ‘well enough.’ It isn’t okay,” I tell him. “Besides, I already took the job. And Dad loves it that I’ll be hanging out with Rick Jones.”
The front door opens behind Tanner, and Sawyer, dirty and dusty from an early-in-the-season hike up the Chilkoot with a family of five, looks back and forth between us.
“You could cut the tension in here with a knife,” he says. “What’s going on?”
“Our idiot brother has decided to harass my wife’s best friend because she dumped him last summer.”
“Wow!” exclaims Sawyer, heading to the fridge to grab a beer. “One tour goes a little long and you miss everything! Fill me in.”
“I got a job as a Location Assistant on The Astonishing Race: Alaska.”
“Cool,” says Sawyer, tilting back his bottle. “I’d love to work on a TV show.”
Tanner crosses his arms over his broad chest, his voice gravelly with annoyance. “He only got the job to put the screws to Isabella.”
“Not true,” I mutter.
“Close enough,” says Tanner.
Sawyer darts a glance at me, eyebrows raised, then turns back to Tanner and shrugs.
There’s meaning in his looks, and I read them loud and clear.
As the oldest of six siblings, I’ve had a front-row seat to the dynamics of my large family, and here’s a fact: they change.
There are certain controls, of course, and here are ours:
We love each other.
We’d lay down in traffic for each other.
We’d give a kidney or a lung or whatever other body part our sibling required of us.
We’d hurt someone who tried to hurt one of us.
We do—I swear it—want the best for each other.
Always.
But who we are closest to…and when we are closest to them…changes with and over time.
For instance, in grade school, Harper and I were inseparable. The two oldest kids with only eleven months between us? We were more like twins than older brother, younger sister.
And in high school, Tanner and I were super close. As two male teens on testosterone highs, we were each other’s best friend and worst enemy.
And now? With Tanner married to McKenna, and Harper a new mom? I find I’m closest to my younger brother and roommate, Sawyer. Late at night, when we’re about to fall asleep, he talks to me about Ivy Caswell—how much he’d always liked her, and how she was too stuck-up to give him a chance last summer. And he knows exactly how badly Isabella Gonzalez hurt me. Heck, it was Sawyer throwing back shots with me at Tanner’s wedding…right after I learned she was coming back to Alaska.
So that glance he gives me before shrugging at Tanner? There’s a lot of meaning in that look. He understands how hopeful I was about Isabella last summer. He understands how much she hurt me. And he understands that getting some answers might give me the closure I need and help me move on.
“I know she’s McKenna’s bestie, but she did Hunt dirty,” Sawyer tells Tanner.
“How so?”
Sawyer blinks at Tanner. “They fucked six times that weekend. She was into Hunter, okay? She was into him, and he was into her. Then, for weeks, they texted, right? On the phone every fucking night. Believe me, I was here. I saw it all. And then, for no good reason, she dumps him over text. No explanation. Nothing. Just…‘It was just a fling. Get over it. Move on.’ Well, it was more than a fling to Hunt, okay? He had feelings for her, and she treated him like dirt. He has a right to feel burned. It was fucking mean.”
“Wait. Wait. Wait. Six…six times?” Tanner’s mouth falls open. His eyes widen. He turns to me. “What is he talking about?”
In the interest of keeping Tanner out of my business and me out of his, I never told him what went down between me and Bella that weekend. Sure, my family knew that we liked each other. And they knew we were in touch for a few weeks after she left. And they knew she ultimately broke things off.
But only Sawyer knows how close we actually got.
Now Tanner knows, too.
I cross my arms over my chest. “We got together that weekend—the one when you were trying to get McKenna back—and when I drove her back to the airport, we decided to stay in touch and give things a try. And then, without any warning or explanation, she dumped me over text. One minute we were on, the next we were off. I have no idea what happened, what I did, what—”
“Six. Times?”
Leave it to Tanner to get stuck on that detail.
“Yep.”
“I flew her here to comfort McKenna!”
“And she did!”
“But you were fucking her the whole time?”
“Not against her will,” I say, starting to get annoyed.
“Tan,” says Sawyer. “Here’s the deal in a nutshell: Hunt got with Iz. Iz bailed without explanation. Hunt feels scorned.” He shrugs. “I think he has a right to some answers.”
“I don’t feel…scorned,” I protest, remembering my mother reciting the Congreve quote about a woman scorned: Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned. I don’t adore its petty implications in my situation, but swap “woman” for “man,” and I grudgingly admit it’s apt. “More than anything, it’s a solid business opportunity. But, if—while I’m sucking up to Rick Jones—I get a chance to figure out what happened between me and Isabella? It’s a win-win.”
Tanner’s eyes soften as he stares at me. “She really hurt you.”
“She really did,” I say softly, looking down.
“You really liked her.”
“A lot. And she just...bailed.”
“You know, Hunt,” Tanner says, reaching forward to squeeze my shoulder, “we lost mom really suddenly, too. Sometimes I wonder how that affects us—”
“Shut up, Tanner. This isn’t about mom,” I insist, shrugging him away. I don’t admit that his words strike a chord within me, because I don’t want or need a therapy session with my younger brothers right now. “I just want answers. That’s all, okay?”
“Sure,” he says. “Just...don’t be an asshole. Don’t hurt her out of some petty revenge or something like that.”
“Got it.”
“And don’t get me in trouble.”
“You can chill out, Tanner. I’m just going to talk to her. I promise.”