Chapter Two
Wyatt
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the kitchen—a ritual I keep every time I make a trip to town. The beans cost me more than they should to ship out here, and the coffee is strong and black, the way I like it. Worth every cent.
“None for you,” I tell Sabaak, the traitorous ball of fur that ditched me the second he smelled a beautiful woman after I opened the door to the store. Can’t say I blame him.
I’ve never met anyone who smelled like her—the warmth and sweetness of amber with hints of citrus.
No, she didn’t smell like a field of whatever variety of flowers most women seem to prefer.
It was subtle enough that I had to be close to catch it.
And hell, if that didn’t fuck with my head more than anything.
Her beauty, though… There was nothing subtle about that.
Nothing subtle about the cascade of strawberry blonde hair that fell around her shoulder, shimmering in the store light like spun gold tinted with rose.
Her eyes were a striking blue, stunning against the milky paleness of her skin.
And fuck, those freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks, like tiny stars across a face that was already too damn perfect. And that mouth…
I take another sip of coffee and try not to wonder what she’d taste like if I dipped in for a kiss.
I haven’t let myself think about a woman in a long time.
I haven’t felt drawn to anyone enough to let them linger in my head past the initial encounter.
But she stuck; stuck long enough for me to wonder how long my pretty little tourist will be staying on the island.
I empty my cup and consider getting a second, then decide against it.
I have a shit ton of work to do, and the cup when I finish will be a perfect reward.
I’m rinsing the mug in the sink when Sabaak stiffens.
His ears perk up, and his head swivels toward the door.
He’s a big, boisterous dog, usually the picture of a goof, but now, every muscle is coiled.
A low growl rumbles in his chest, vibrating through the kitchen, seconds before he darts to the front door, clawing at it.
I set down my mug and follow him to the door.
Although I can’t hear a single thing, it’s clear something set him off.
Sabaak has never been wrong about a threat—and every trespasser on my private property is a threat.
Sabaak barks, and then I hear it—the distinct hum of an engine. I walk to the window and spot the 4-wheeler in the distance, clearly approaching my property.
No one comes up here. There are quite a number of warning signs along the perimeter to keep hiking tourists from wandering.
The locals rarely come up anyway. For the longest time, it’s been just me and Sabaak.
Before that, I was a man living in the concrete world until I was shown just how fragile life is and how even money can’t protect it.
My parents were killed in a plane crash.
They died in their private jet, every luxury and safety feature money could buy, and none of it stopped the engine from failing or the plane plummeting to the ground.
I was twenty, still in college, with more money than most people could ever dream of and no family left to share it.
They left everything to me and, as the sole heir of my family’s business, I was expected to step up before I’d had a chance to breathe, let alone mourn them.
I could’ve hired someone to manage their wealth and lived large. Most people assumed I would and, in turn, would take them along for the ride.
Instead, I came back to the place that meant something.
My family had vacationed on Adak Island for as long as I could remember—it was the one place that had always felt more like home than anywhere else.
. I sold everything, donated what felt right, and moved into my parents’ old vacation cottage.
The sizable cushion they left behind meant I’d never want for anything.
And I don’t. Want for anything.
I’m fine living up here with my dog but it seems someone is determined to disturb that peace.
I watch the 4-wheeler pull up, and my brows furrow when I recognize it as Acca’s rental. Then I spot that wild strawberry blond hair, and my confusion deepens. She doesn’t seem to be lost, hard to be when this particular road leads straight to my cottage.
Sabaak spots her too, and he transforms from a menacing beast to an eager puppy, tail wagging like he’s about to reunite with his best friend rather than a woman he met less than an hour ago.
“Stay,” I tell him, but he ignores me. The moment I open the door, he shoots out and runs toward the 4-wheeler. The engine cuts off, and the woman climbs out, smiling when Sabaak trots to her and jumps up like they’ve known each other forever.
“Oh, hey there, Sabaak,” the woman coos, crouching down to rub the eager dog’s fur. “There’s a good boy. I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon.”
I watch with disgust as my loyal dog eats up the attention, trading his dignity for a few ear scratches.
Then the woman reaches back into her car and grabs a bag of treats, which I recognize as the ones Acca sells at her store.
As she feeds my dog, Sabaak practically melts against the woman, eating off her hands, literally and figuratively.
When I’ve seen enough, I step out of the cottage and approach them.
The woman finally lifts her eyes from the dog to acknowledge me, and I notice the quick flush on her cheeks when those blue eyes meet mine.
“Sorry,” she says, rising to her feet but still holding out her palm for Sabaak to take the treats from.
“My parents always say that our family has a gift, a connection with animals. I’m sorry, and I didn’t mean to intrude. ”
When I don’t respond and simply angle my head inquisitively, the blush on her cheeks deepens.
“My name is Sylvie—”
“Are you lost?”
“No. I’m not lost. Actually, I was hoping to speak with you,” she says, and I notice a slight tremble in her hands. She’s cold. It runs colder up here near the mountain than in town, even in June. And her jacket looks like it’s failing in keeping her warm.
“Come in,” I say, nodding toward the cottage, surprising us both.
I never invite anyone inside, let alone strangers.
It’s a norm to send them on their way, but watching her shiver does something to me that I can’t explain.
It makes me want to bundle her into a blanket, carry her inside, light a fire, and stay by her side until she’s warm.
Of course, there are faster ways to do that than lighting a fire.
I imagine her body spread out on my bed as I…
No, I need to keep those thoughts at bay.
She should know better, but she follows me inside, Sabaak at her heels. They both make their way to the kitchen. “Um, thank you. I was hoping to speak to you about—”
“Coffee?” I interrupt, already reaching for a second mug.
“Uh, what?”
I turn to find her standing in the middle of my kitchen, watching me like I’ve grown a second head. Sabaak, the traitorous dog, is planted at her feet like he’s been appointed her personal guard. I shake my head at the oddity of it all. “You drink coffee?”
“Yes. Of course. I’m a grad student in California. I have to take coffee to keep up with the textbooks and… you probably don’t care. Sorry.” She waves her hands, then settles them at her sides. “Light, with sugar or cream—.” She stops herself, glancing at the counter.
The coffee I keep is black and strong and I don’t have cream or sugar on hand—nothing about my life requires them. I fill the second mug and hand it to her. She takes it and wraps both hands around it, and when she sips, there’s a flicker of surprise on her face before she adjusts.
“Why are you here?” I ask after a moment.
“Oh, right,” she says, setting the half-empty mug on the counter.
“I was talking to Acca about finding someone to take me to the Steller sea lions breeding area, and she mentioned you. I’m a wildlife conservation grad student, working on my thesis on Steller sea lions during breeding season.
I’m hoping that my research will help the senate see that building a resort on the island would be a critical mistake—for an endangered species and for this whole ecosystem. So, can you take me?”
She blinks up at me when she’s done. Such conviction in those eyes. Such certainty that facts and passion will be enough to move men who’ve already decided what they want.
I’ve known about the Monteith proposal for a while. I’d been working out how to fight it—using money where persuasion failed, outbidding the developer for the land itself if it comes to that. Making sure no resort ever broke ground on this island, one way or another.
But here she is, passionate with her na?ve little idea to confront those ignorant men who believe too much in their own power. How can I say no and dim that light in her eyes? How could I?
“Alright,” I say, watching surprise bloom on her face. “I’ll take you to the area on the island where a small colony of the Steller sea lions has established a breeding ground.”
“Really?” she beams.
“It’s only a quarter of the size of the larger colony of another nearby island, but it should be enough for your study.”
“No, take me to the bigger one first,” she says, those pretty eyes widening with excitement. “I want to see the bigger colony. Please.”
“No,”
She blinks. Sabaak shoots me a look, and I ignore him.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s on a separate island. Uninhabited. Getting there means crossing open water and camping for days, and the weather out here isn’t what you’re used to in California.” I cross my arms. “The small colony will do.”
“The small colony is a quarter of the size.” She straightens, chin lifting. “My study needs to be comprehensive. If I’m going to stand in front of a senate committee and make a credible case, I need data from the primary breeding ground, not the satellite one.”
She’s not wrong. I don’t tell her that. “You didn’t have gloves on this morning.”
The flush that climbs her neck tells me the point landed. Good. “I bought new ones,”" she says. “I have them right here.” She holds them up as evidence.
“You have no idea what conditions are like out there. Even experienced people struggle.”
“Then it’s a good thing I have an experienced guide.” She sets the gloves on the counter and looks at me steadily. “I’m not asking you to carry me. I’m asking you to take me where the data is. I’ll keep up.”
“You’ll do what I say. Every instruction, no argument, no negotiating once we’re out there."
“I’ll be quiet as a mouse and do everything you say. I promise.”
Something fires in my gut at those words. I’ll do everything you say. She didn’t mean it that way—even if her voice did go a little throaty when she said it.
Fuck.
“If I say we turn back, we turn back. No pushback about needing more time or one more photograph.”
“Agreed.”
“And if you can’t handle the conditions—”
“I'll handle them.” Those blue eyes hold mine without flinching. “Mr. Hudson. I came to Alaska to spend two weeks camping on a remote island to save sea lions. I think I know what I'm signing up for."
I look at her for a long moment. Sabaak, the traitor, is watching me with what I can only describe as expectation.
I should say no. I can say no. I've said it to every other tourist who's shown up at my door with a variation of this same request. But hell, I can't bring myself to say those words to her.
“The weather promises to be calmer by morning,” I tell her, finally turning away before she can see whatever is happening on my face. “That’s the only reason I’m considering it. You’ll need serious gear—more than what you came with. I’ll have provisions packed.”
“Okay,” she says to my back. “Thank you very much. I can’t wait for tomorrow. Do I drive up here or—”
“I’ll pick you up. Seven sharp. If you're not ready, I’ll not take you anywhere.”
“I’ll be ready.”
I respond with a grunt when she tells me the townhouse she’s staying at. Sabaak escorts her to the door, and I don’t breathe easy until I hear her engine start and the 4-wheeler pull away.
“It’s your damn fault,” I tell Sabaak when he lopes back into the kitchen and settles by my leg as though his loyalty didn’t shift for a moment before.
Can’t say I blame him when her presence had me acting out of character.
Jesus Christ, I could barely be around her for a few minutes before wanting to devour her.
How the fuck am I going to survive this trip?