Chapter 19
19
“Fishing?”
I laughed at Mike's question about what to do for the day. We were on the kitchen floor, recovering from round four. “Even I can say I'm a little fished out.”
“Then, how about a hike? Nothing too crazy. Just us,” Mike said as he tucked my hair behind my ear.
“That sounds great.”
I put on clothes for a hike since Mike's T-shirt wouldn't do, tugged on my hiking boots. Left the engagement ring tucked away in my toiletry case—I didn't think Mike would mind after the hair ripping incident. Sunscreen, since the sun was actually out, at the moment. Snacks, water bottles and our raincoats were packed into a backpack. We let Jefferson out for a pee break, only after he sniffed both our crotches first, and were about to climb into the clown car when a nondescript, white American sedan pulled into the driveway.
We stood there and watched two men, both dressed in suit pants and white shirts with the sleeves rolled up, climb out. The driver was short and round, egg shaped, like Humpty Dumpty. His hair was short, military style, graying. The passenger was over six feet tall and string bean thin. He'd blow over in the wind if it picked up. His hair was curly and unruly. The darkness of it had me guessing his age as early thirties. They were Laurel and Hardy, but probably not very funny.
“Hi, I'm Special Agent Clarkson, FBI,” Humpty Dumpty said, opening a small billfold with his badge and ID card in it.
“Special Agent Kronk.” The other man held out his badge as well.
Mike and I nodded our heads in acknowledgement, unsure of what the FBI wanted with us.
“We're looking for a Mr. Robert Jgorgen.”
Mrs. O's maiden name was Jgorgen? My mind randomly went to how much of a mouthful her name was: Claudine Jgorgen Ostranski. No wonder she didn't hyphenate.
“He's not here,” Mike said.
The men looked at the house, maybe thinking Jubal was peeking around a curtain in an upper bedroom window.
“And you are?” Laurel asked.
“I'm Mike Ostranski, Robert's nephew.” Eyes shifted to me. “This is Violet Miller, friend of the family.”
I nodded a hello.
“Do you know when he might be back?” Humpty asked.
They were both very serious. It really was just like in the movies. They weren't wearing full suits with ties, but they were clearly G-Men by their stances, their bearing. Even the FBI was more relaxed in Alaska.
“He went to Katmai. We're in town visiting—family reunion—so some of us flew down to see the bears earlier. He plans to be back tomorrow. Is there a problem?”
They were giving nothing away. “We just need to talk with him.”
“Is he in trouble?” It seemed Mike was doing his own fishing expedition.
Both men shook their heads. I think I saw a smile on Humpty's face. “No. We'll stop by again tomorrow. Have a nice day.”
We stood there and watched them drive off. I hadn't moved, nor spoken through the whole thing. “Tell me that was a little weird.”
Mike opened his door to the clown car—Jubal having reclaimed his truck—and leaned against the roof. “Everything is weird about this trip.”
Like that wasn't obvious to me. He wasn't the pregnant, word porn bestselling author. “What do you think that was all about?”
Mike shook his head. “I have no idea.” Realizing we weren't going to discover anything new standing there, he climbed in. I followed and we were off.
Instead of heading into town, we turned and headed up the hill, up the mountainside. Higher and higher the road went through comfortable neighborhoods, houses on big lots with leafy trees everywhere. We moved to roads a little less maintained, where Mike had to dodge potholes, avoid overgrown foliage—high wild shrubs and bushes—edging into the road and blind curves. We took one at about five miles an hour, but Mike still had to slam on the brakes to avoid a moose that jumped out of nowhere.
I put my hands on the dash. Mike gripped the steering wheel like a life ring. My heart was pounding in my chest at the surprise appearance. I wasn't used to moose appearing in the road. Squirrels, dogs, an occasional deer outside of town. But moose, never.
He didn't have a rack on his head and he wasn't a baby. He eyed us as if we were in his way. It was a complete standoff because we couldn't go around him and I wasn't planning on getting out to yell at him for jaywalking.
Soon, he found us boring and clomped across the road and disappeared once again into the dense greenery.
“Are you okay?” Mike asked.
“Yeah. That was great.” I grinned.
Continuing on, we wound our way above the tree line until about ten minutes later, without any more confrontations with the wildlife, we pulled into a large parking lot. It was compact dirt so the clown car bumped over all of the little ruts. The wood sign at the entrance read: Glen Alps Trail.
“Glen Alps. Sounds...Swissy,” I commented, looking around. The size of the parking area itself said this was a well-used starting point for various trails. A newer building for bathrooms was at one end, a kiosk with a map and information next to it. The lot was half full. Above the tree line as we were, I could see to the west; the buildings of Anchorage far below, the water beyond, and in the distance, another mountain range.
Mike stared at me for a moment. “Swissy?”
I shrugged.
“We're actually going to go up Flattop.” He pointed out the front windshield. Not straight out as if he was pointing to the bathrooms, but up, toward space. “It's that mountain right there. This is a really popular hike so there shouldn't be any problems with bears.”
I looked out my window. Up. I didn't see any bears. Or moose.
Per the area map on display at the kiosk, the climb, although really steep, was less than two miles. It was a narrow path, which meant single file walking, so we didn't chat much, only pointing out interesting things on the way. By the time we got to the top, and it was flat like the mountain's name, I was ready to sit, take a break and enjoy the view. It was surprisingly clear and warm considering the weather we'd had. From our vantage point, we could see in all directions. If I had binoculars, I'd probably see Hope, my new favorite fishing spot. Mountains, water, mountains and more mountains as far as I could see.
We found a suitable rock to sit on and pulled out our water bottles, comfortable in our companionable silence, until...
“So, will you let me read it?”
I un-squeezed my water bottle midstream. Swallowed. Took my time. I was cornered. In the middle of the Alaskan wilderness, with nothing but open space all around me, I was trapped.
“Nicely played,” I said. The wind at the top was stronger and it blew my hair into my face.
Mike smiled, tucked a strand behind my ear. “Thanks. So. Can I?”
“Do you really want to or are you just interested in word porn?”
He waggled his eyebrows. “Word porn? Is that what you call it? I like it.” When he saw me just staring at him, he must have realized I was serious. “If you wrote it, I'd really like to read it.”
“Why?”
“Because it came from your imagination. It will give me a little insight into who you are.”
“What I like to do in bed, more like it.” I looked down at my lap, played with a frayed spot on my jeans.
“Hey.” He lifted my chin with a finger, forced me to look at him. “I know what you like to do in bed and I like doing it to you.”
“Seriously,” I muttered.
“Seriously. What we do in bed and what's written in a fictional book, even word porn, are not the same thing.”
I blushed. I could feel it. “I know.” I lifted my eyes to his. “I do. But I'm afraid.”
There. I said it.
He frowned. “Afraid of what?”
Damn the man. Wasn't saying I was afraid enough? No.
I took a deep breath. “Afraid of what people might think. Afraid people will think I'm slutty or dirty or a bad person. Afraid you'll think that.”
“After what we did earlier?” He paused, took a sip of water. “You said yourself you're a good girl.”
I nodded. A big fluffy cloud moved in front of the sun and made the air cool.
“But you were a bad girl with me and I definitely wasn't running away screaming. If I remember correctly, you were the one screaming.”
Oh, yeah. I flushed.
“Did you like it?”
Oh, yeah. “Yes,” I whispered.
“Then what's the problem?”
“I only want to be a bad girl in private. I don't want everyone to know...to know what makes me tick.”
“Or makes you come?” Mike asked, his eyes hooded. Heated. He got right to the point.
I flushed even more and nodded.
“I know what makes you tick, what makes you come, and I sure as hell am going to make you come again. And when you do, you're going to be oh, so bad, because I've got plans.” He looked away, off into the distance for a moment, then turned back, eyes blazing with heat and intensity. “I want you. Good girl and bad girl. Hell, it makes me hot just thinking about it. We've been apart ever since graduation, but Vi, you're the one I think about. After today, you're the one I'm never going to forget. Even when you acted all mad at me, I still wanted you. You're the one who I let get away. No longer. I mean it. You're mine.”
Holy shit. He hadn't outright declared his love for me, but it was pretty close.
“You're best friends with Veronica. Why did you avoid me? Or is it because we look the same she can fill in for me?”
Mike stood up from our rock, paced away and back. Ran his hand down his face. When he looked at me, he wasn't gentle anymore. His jaw was clenched, his muscles tense. “You're so unsure of yourself, Vi. I wish you knew how I see you. How strong, brave, kind...and hot you are. Saying something like that makes me want to spank you.”
My mouth fell open in shock. Surprise that he'd even consider doing that, and surprise that the idea actually turned me on.
“Veronica is a good friend, but that's it. She does nothing for me. You do. The difference between the two of you is obvious to me. Always has been. She wants Jack. I want her to have Jack. You're the one I think is sexy as hell. I want you. Didn't I show you how much just a little while ago?”
Oh yes, he had.
I swallowed. “What about New York?”
Mike winced. “I don't know.”
“My life is in Bozeman. I go back to work in August.” The sun came back out and I squinted up at him.
“Come on, Vi, you don't really want to be a teacher, do you?”
My stomach plummeted. He was able to put into words something my brain had just floated around for years. “This has nothing to do with my profession.” I looked out over the open expanse of tall grass and rock, but we were alone at the top of the mountain. “You say I'm yours, but you're going to fuck me and then just leave. Again.” The words were harsh, and not remotely how I felt for him, but I wasn't going to expose myself, my feelings, to him if he was going to walk away.
“I'm definitely going to fuck you, as you call it. Lots more. And you want me to.”
I definitely wanted him to. “And then leave,” I added bitterly.
“Maybe.”
“Then maybe I'm not yours after all.”