Alaskan Nights Page 3

  “Please, Brynne. He’s your father.”

  Brynne raised a hand and pressed it against her forehead, trying to get rid of the instant headache that had developed behind her eyes. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thanks, dear.”

  Upon hanging up, Brynne allowed her head to fall forward and rest lightly against the steering wheel’s airbag. She heard her car door open, and saw a pair of shiny leather shoes in her peripheral vision.

  “Hey, what’s wrong, babe?” Callder’s voice asked in a gentle way. “Is that douchebag from the café still bothering you? Because if you like, we can turn around and go back, and I’ll actually crash his car, and actually punch him in the face.”

  Brynne smiled against the steering wheel, in spite of herself. “No. That was my mom.”

  “Darn. I would have loved to trash his house or throw eggs at the windows of that diner.” Callder slid one of his hands over her back, beginning to gently squeeze and knead her shoulders. He massaged her back for a few minutes, easing away the tension and quickly chasing away her headache. “Don’t worry so much, B. Wanna grab a bite to eat?”

  “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “Maybe we should get some sandwiches to go, and just eat while driving. It’s a long trip, we probably shouldn’t stop too often. If we drive nonstop, and take turns, we could be there in less than two days.”

  “Brynne, baby, don’t you know? It’s not about the destination. It’s about the journey. Let’s have some fun along the way. Let’s go eat Canadian food at that little Canadian diner. We have so many years to catch up on.”

  She lifted her head, moving her gaze from his shoes to his face. His warm brown eyes were far more compelling than his footwear—she imagined they could persuade her to do almost anything. “Sure,” she said, relenting easily. “That could be good.”

  Chapter 4: The Credit Card

  “...and I woke up in a ditch, covered in bruises,” Callder said, taking a huge swig of his milkshake. “I tried to go back into the casino later that day, but they wouldn’t let me in. Turns out I was blacklisted from pretty much every casino on the East Coast.”

  Brynne stared in wonder. “So all this was because of a woman?”

  “It’s always because of a woman.”

  “You’re ridiculous,” she said with a smile, sipping on her orange juice.

  “No, I’m not,” he said, slightly wounded. “I’m passionate and brave. That’s the way you should be thinking of me when I’m not around. Passionate and brave. You do think of me, don’t you?”

  “Sure. But ‘ridiculous and reckless’ are better words,” Brynne told him. “They mean the same thing, sort of.”

  “No, they don’t,” he said sharply. “It matters how you think of me. The first words are positive, and those words are negative. I would prefer if you thought about me in mostly positive ways.”

  “I do,” Brynne assured him. “It was kind of heroic, showing up when you did and whisking me away. So, at the moment, you’re sort of my hero. Isn’t that positive?”

  “I’ll take it!” he said, straightening his posture and puffing his chest out proudly. “Doesn’t every man dream of being called a hero while drinking a damn good milkshake?”

  The way he winked at her made her think that his words were loaded with some sort of filthy innuendo. But weren’t they always? She smiled. “Will you let me have a sip of your milkshake?”

  He slid the glass toward her immediately. “Anytime, anyplace.”

  Brynne lowered her lips to the straw, and pulled a bit of the cold, creamy beverage into her mouth. “That actually is pretty good,” she said in pleasant surprise, before sliding the glass back toward him.

  “I told you so,” he said happily. “Don’t hate on the milkshake.”

  Brynne’s phone began to ring again, and she glanced down to check the name of the caller. Seeing her grandmother’s name, she pressed the ‘ignore’ button.

  “Is everything okay at home?” Callder asked.

  “Yeah,” Brynne said with a sigh. “You know how family is—they don’t talk to you for years, and then they expect you to jump when they call. I don’t know if they want me to come home for emotional support, or because they think I have money.”

  “Probably both,” Callder said with a shrug. “Money always helps. For the record, what I missed most about you was your smokin’ hot body.”

  “Thanks,” Brynne said, rolling her eyes. “So tell me about how you got amazingly, suddenly rich,” she said, leaning forward curiously and folding her arms on the table. “What’s your story?”

  “What story? Nothing special. I still work with my brother,” Callder said.

  “As a fisherman?” Brynne asked.

  “Yeah. Trevain got a bigger boat. The Fishin’ Magician II. We had a few really great seasons. I am still really disappointed that he didn’t take my suggestion and call it The Master Baiter—”

  Brynne choked on her orange juice.

  “—but I trust that he had his reasons.” Callder shrugged. “Professionalism and all that baloney. I think that The Master Baiter would have been professional. We are baiting things after all—and we’re masters at it!”

  “You’re insane,” she told him.

  “Remember when you used to sell me bait at your mother’s shop?” Callder asked fondly. “You were the bait lady. Brynne, the Master Baiting Queen!”

  She frowned, ignoring his wisecracks. “I just always imagined something better for you, Callder. I thought maybe after a few years of seeing how much fishing sucked, you’d go to school and get a real career.”

  “I wish I could tell you something different, babe. Wish I could say that I was a fighter pilot or a marine biologist. But I am what I am. Take it or leave it.” He reached out and ran his finger over the bumps of her knuckles in a playful way. “Just a suggestion: I think you should take it.”

  “Maybe I will,” she said with a smile. She looked down at his large, calloused hands, and realized that she should have known his job instantly from the dismal condition of his palms. He continued to trace patterns over her fingers, sending tiny shivers up her arms. For such large, strong hands, his touch was feathery light.

  “What you got against fisherman, anyhoo?” Callder demanded, a bit defensively.

  She shrugged in response. “I grew up around too many of them. Fishermen are all dirty and smelly and stupid.”

  “I resent that,” Callder declared. “I may have a dirty mind, but I challenge you to stick your nose in my armpit right now. Go ahead. Do it. That’s the sweet scent of a body spray that works like catnip for the ladies.”

  “See what I mean?” Brynne said in amusement. “Fishermen are stupid, because they believe exaggerated advertising claims.”

  “I’m not talking about the advertisements,” Callder told her, leaning closer and lowering his voice. “I’m talking about personal research on dozens of attractive young subjects…”

  “Ew. I don’t want to hear about that!” Brynne said with a shudder.

  “You challenged my intellect and sexual potency, all in one breath,” he accused, pouting as though deeply wounded. “I had to defend myself.”

  “I know of your reputation with women, and I believe it. You don’t have to prove anything to me. That was just a joke about the body spray—ah, never mind.” Brynne stretched out her legs, accidentally hitting one of Callder’s feet. “Sorry. Wanna hit the road again?”

  He nodded, sipping the last of his milkshake. “Let me just pay for this.” He reached into his wallet and handed a credit card to the server who was approaching them. The server nodded and took the card to the machine. “Maybe we should go shopping and get you a change of clothes,” Callder told her. “The waitressing outfit is a little too cute. I don’t think we can drive another thousand miles with you wearing that without me jumping your bones.”

  “Oh,” she said, blushing and looking down to survey her clothes. She reached behind her back to untie h
er apron. “It is kind of silly. My boss was very strict about his uniform policy.”

  “Your boss was that guy, Andrew?” Callder asked with a frown. “What was the situation with him? He seemed like a creep—and I never pegged you for the type to date a co-worker.”

  “I’ll tell you about it later,” she said, quieting down as the server returned with the bill for Callder to sign. She squinted as she noticed something odd on the receipt, but did not speak until the waiter had left. “Uh… Callder. Why did you just forge your brother’s signature?”

  He cleared his throat. “Well, you see—it’s a business account, and…”

  “Callder,” Brynne said quietly. “Tell me the truth—did you steal your brother’s credit card?”

  “No, absolutely not! I just borrowed it for an extended period of time, and accidentally forgot to ask permission.”

  “Oh my god,” she said with a groan. “I can’t believe you! Why would you do something like that?”

  “Why wouldn’t I? It’s not like he’s even going to notice. It’s not like he’s going to care. I’m the only family he has—he’s not going to get mad at me or anything, maybe give me a slap on the wrist. Besides, when he sees the Ferrari, I’m sure he’ll understand that it’s money well spent.”

  “You bought the Ferrari with your brother’s credit card?” Brynne asked in disbelief.

  “Yeah. But isn’t it awesome?”

  “Callder… how much of his money did you spend?”

  “Not too much. The car is just leased.”

  Brynne shook her head. “You’re exactly the same as you used to be,” she said quietly. “I thought—I thought for a second that maybe you had changed. That maybe you had grown up a little bit.”

  Callder dragged a napkin across his lips and glared at her. “I don’t want to change. I am who I am. If you don’t like it, you’re free to ditch me. It wouldn’t be the first time you walked away and left me in your dust, because I wasn’t good enough for you.”

  When he got up and walked out of the diner, Brynne stared after him in surprise. She could sense the hurt that she had caused him so many years ago. She wondered why she had never realized it before—she had never noticed that her actions had bothered him. Callder’s obnoxious humor was a thick fortress that concealed any sign of true emotion.

  * * *

  “Sharp right turn ahead.”

  Brynne looked down at the map and traced their route with her fingertip. Soon, they would be arriving at a city called Prince George. Callder had taken the wheel, and had been driving for several hours in awkward silence. She wished that she could speak to him, and make some sort of comment on how beautiful the scenery was. She wanted to mention the idyllic, fluffy little clouds that danced around the snowy mountaintops. She wanted to call his attention to the adorable sheep and lazy horses grazing in the meadows. There was so much she wanted to share with him, that she felt like she was going to burst.

  “In two miles, stay on the left lane.”

  The mechanical voice of the GPS was the closest thing to human interaction in the vehicle. Brynne almost wanted to respond to the eloquent British woman. Maybe I should thank her for the instructions. Or ask her how her day was. The foolishness of this thought annoyed her. She glanced at Callder out of the corner of her eye, using her peripheral vision to study his stern expression. She did not think she had ever seen his lips remain closed for such a long stretch of time in their entire acquaintance. He seemed to notice her looking, and turned his head to the side sharply. She shifted her eyes back to the road.

  “Go straight on for thirty miles, then, bear right.”

  The tension in the car was thick. She felt the need to apologize, but she knew that no words would do the situation justice. She had abandoned and insulted Callder, but the moment that she had needed him, he had magically appeared to help her. She wanted desperately to make things right. Turning to her side, Brynne tried to force herself to speak. Instead, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss against Callder’s shoulder. She allowed her lips to linger there for a moment before turning her face to the side and resting her cheek against his bicep.

  The sound of squealing brakes were heard as the car swerved suddenly into the unpaved shoulder. Brynne looked around in surprise, expecting to see an obstacle or dangerous situation on the road. But there was nothing around except the colors of the evening sky, which had bathed the mountaintops with crimson light. She was startled when she felt Callder’s hand slip around the back of her neck, pulling her face against his. His lips mashed into hers with a demanding and unyielding pressure.

  It was nothing like the silly, theatrical kiss that he had given her back at the café. It was a real and meaningful touch, filled with unmistakable intent. It was both chastising and forgiving, all at once. It was also angry. Increasingly angry.

  “Why?” Callder asked between kisses. He leaned forward, crawling over the console in order to pin her against the car seat with his weight. “Why didn’t you take me with you?”

  “Mmm?” Brynne asked, a bit lost in the unexpected intensity of his attack

  “When you left,” he said, smashing his nose against hers as he cupped the back of her head. “Why didn’t you take me with you?”

  “Mmm,” she responded, focusing on his mouth more than the question. “I guess… I didn’t think you would want to come with me.”

  “I did,” he told her, in between kisses. He pressed a hand against her stomach, sliding his fingers up under her blouse. “I would have gone anywhere with you.”

  She paused and pushed him away slightly. “You never told me that. How was I supposed to know?”

  “I’m not big on words, Brynne. But haven’t I always been by your side? Don’t my actions give you a clear picture of the way I feel?”

  “No,” she whispered. “I need the words too.”

  “Why?” he said, kissing her chin. “Why would you need me to say a bunch of unnecessary, mushy garbage…”

  She hit him in the shoulder. “To differentiate me from the dozens of other girls you bang, just for the fun of it. To establish this as something real.”

  “How can you not see that this is real to me?” he asked, almost offended by the accusation.

  “I can’t see anything,” Brynne admitted. “I’m completely blind.”

  Callder stared down at her in the fading dusk. “And if I told you—if I tried to find the words, would you even believe me?”

  “Probably not,” she admitted.

  He pulled away from her, moving back to the driver’s seat and starting up the car. “Then I’m not going to bother wasting my words.”

  Brynne felt a sense of disappointment wash over her, along with a burst of righteous rage. “You shouldn’t,” she snapped at him. “If it’s not worth it to you, you really shouldn’t bother.”

  Chapter 5: The Weak Guy

  Callder flew into the hotel room and dove face-first into one of the two small beds.

  “Oof,” he mumbled into the pillow, stretching his arms out to either side until his wrists dangled off the mattress. “That’s nice. I like beds.”

  Brynne nodded in satisfaction as she moved over to the other bed, carefully stretching herself out. “Yeah. After being cramped in that tiny car all day… this is heaven.”

  “Pretty close,” Callder agreed. “Could be slightly better if you weren’t such a prude.”

  Brynne ignored him as she fluffed the pillows up under her head. “You know, I used to love the idea of a Ferrari—but the truth is that the cramped cabin and roaring engine don’t make for an enjoyable extended trip. My old Honda Civic was better.”

  Callder perked up, lifting his head from the bed. “Is that supposed to mean something more than what you said?”

  “Not really,” Brynne said with a shrug. “Just an observation on the practicality of things. Sometimes when you get the thing you wanted most, you find that it isn’t exactly how you thought it would be, and something else is more ap
propriate.”

  “I’m really far too tired to figure out if that’s veiled sexual innuendo,” Callder told her. “Wait until I wake up, then you can be witty and clever again.”

  “Whatever,” Brynne said, relaxing on her own mattress. Knowing that the credit card which had been used to purchase the hotel room was stolen did not detract from how comfortable the bed felt after so many hours of driving.

  The worst part was that they had not even completed half the trip, and they were already fighting. Brynne glanced over at the unconscious man on the other bed, feeling a bit resentful, and regretful, and affectionate, all at the same time. Still, she knew that she had made the right decision in running away with him. Andrew had been capable of making Brynne upset, but her anger at the glorified restaurant-owner could never compare to her rage and frustration at Callder.

  Andrew had also never been able to make her feel as happy as Callder could.

  While Brynne found the volatile emotions to be more exhausting and annoying than her previously comfortable and calm rhythm, she liked the effect that they had on her. Around Andrew, Brynne had felt like a pushover and a wallflower—but when she was around Callder, she felt the urge to be harsh, cruel, and aggressive. It reminded her of her old self. She liked him for bringing out the best in her, even if took the worst in him to do so. Somehow, her annoyance with his bad behavior was healthy and energizing. Andrew had been a stalwart guy, a role model that Brynne looked up to; but the effect he had on her was debilitating, causing her own spine to melt as she bent over backwards to please him and perform as his helpmate. Callder’s constant screwing up was slowly putting the steel back in each of her vertebrae.

  Although Brynne was a strong woman, she did not respond well to strong men. They did not stimulate and invigorate her as logic indicated they should. But hanging around a weak guy like Callder, who can’t get himself together—it just makes me want to break shit. Brynne smiled to herself as she glanced over at the sleeping man. It’s been a while since I wanted to break shit. It’s a nice feeling.