Starry Night

spoke of her college sweetheart. At first he assumed she’d made up the story in order to gain his trust. But the hurt he saw in her couldn’t be fabricated. No one was that good an actress.
    All Finn could hope was that Sawyer didn’t get delayed come morning. There was still a chance that Finn might come out of this fiasco unscathed.
    Carrie and Finn worked together washing and drying the dinner dishes. Although she pretended not to notice, he kept a careful watch on her. At one point she almost said she had no intention of stealing his silverware.
    Dinner had been pleasant enough. The roast had been cooked to perfection, tender and succulent, and the vegetables were a wonderful complement. They’d chatted amicably during the meal, and Carrie was surprised how easy it was to talk to Finn. Without her prompting, he’d started to talk about the book, which shocked her. When he abruptly stopped, she realized he’d said far more than he’d ever intended.
    “I like you, Finn,” she said as they claimed the chairs by the fire.
    “Excuse me?” He arched one thick brow as though questioning her.
    “With few exceptions, I’ve enjoyed spending this time with you.”
    “Really?” Her announcement appeared to amuse him. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms as though he expected her to elaborate.
    She rocked a bit before answering. “I’m not going to feed your ego.”
    “Come on. Why not?”
    Carrie had trouble holding back a smile “Okay, fine,” she said, “you’re so authentic. You are who you are and you aren’t willing to apologize for it. I like that.”
    Actually, she was strongly attracted to the fact that Finn was a man’s man, but she wasn’t willing to admit it. His strength didn’t come from working out in some gym but from living life.
    She found he was staring at her, and so she continued, “Covering the society page the way I do, you can’t imagine how many men … and women I meet who only care about money, appearances, superficial things. Oh, don’t get me started, but you … you’re a refreshing change.”
    “I’m highly intelligent,” he added.
    She laughed. “And humble, too, I see.”
    “Touché.” He chuckled and then asked, “What about good-looking?”
    “I don’t feel qualified to answer that,” she said, and cocked her head from one side to the other as though assessing his looks.
    “Why not?” he challenged.
    She flexed her fingers over her own cheeks. “It’s hard to tell with your entire face covered with that beard.”
    “True, but you should be able to take my word for it. Besides, beards are a necessity here in Alaska.”
    “Someone should have told me and I would have grown one,” she joked.
    He smiled back, and it seemed like their gazes caught and held for an extra-long moment. In order to break the spell, she looked away and added, “You’re a good conversationalist.”
    He frowned at her comment. “Too good.”
    Their conversation continued for another hour. Carrie discovered that they had a surprising amount in common and agreed on a number of issues; they both loved reading thrillers and were big football fans, especially of the Seattle Seahawks. On others, they were diametrically opposed, the foremost being politics. What struck her, what she found devastatingly attractive about him, was the fact that he could laugh at himself and about Alaska. Finn possessed a wonderful dry wit. When she asked him about the rumor that Alaska was full of bachelors, he replied, “You know what they say about Alaska, don’t you? It’s where the men are men, and so are the women.”
    Carrie tried unsuccessfully to hide her laugh, nearly choking with the effort. Once she composed herself she recited something she’d read on a T-shirt. “I heard that if awoman is looking for a husband in Alaska, her odds are good but the goods are odd.”
    Finn laughed in return, and then it happened again. Their gazes caught and held for what seemed like an eternity, as neither one of them was keen to break the contact.
    Carrie hadn’t been joking; she enjoyed Finn’s company. The more she got to know him, the stronger her feelings became. Before long, they’d finished off the bottle of wine. Then Finn suggested a rematch of their cribbage game.
    “Only this time whoever wins the match gets the bed tonight,” he suggested.
    Carrie didn’t need to think twice about this wager. “You’re on.” The only decent sleep she’d had the night before had