Wild Men of Alaska 01 - Impact

I want dinner. Food.” She’d used food as a substitute for sex the last five years and was damn good at it by now.
    Though she had a feeling it wasn’t going to work tonight.

Chapter Nine

    “We’re sleeping together,” Skip said. “Get used to the idea. You’re not going to be able to keep the beds apart.”
    They’d torn the cushions off the seats—well mostly Wren since she had the use of both of her hands—and made a bed of sorts on the ceiling of the plane. The ceiling was sloped so the cushions slid together. Skip was perfectly fine with that. It meant she’d slide into him too.
    Wren glared at him, but he knew it was a façade. She wasn’t angry, she was scared. He knew she wasn’t scared of him. He wasn’t the kind of man who would ever jump a woman. He’d never take advantage of her. Unless she asked him to. Didn’t mean he was above talking her into being taken advantage of.
    He hid the smile that split across his face with a cough. They’d worked hard in the limited light that was left. He’d found a flashlight among Jim’s survival gear and had it hanging off the exposed metal of the cushion-less seats. He’d also done his best to block the wind, rain and sleet, from coming in. With the plane upside down, the windows were low to the ground. Snow was already covering them, insulating the plane more from the elements. They had enough food to feed a wedding party, and the little village of Egegik, so they’d be fine for quite a while. Plenty of time for the Coast Guard to find them. Snow could provide water if they ran out of the four cases he’d brought along. Heat was the main issue.
    There was only one way he knew how to get warm without a fire.
    Time to play the injured card. Besides, he had to get Wren to calm down.
    “Wren, can we just sit? My arm aches like a sonofabitch. Are there any more pain pills? And I’d like some more of those candied almonds.” They’d torn open a bag of wedding almonds Wren had found in the groceries he’d brought back for his sister’s wedding. Wren hadn’t wanted to eat them, but he’d talked her into it since his sister would be really upset if they died out here because they wouldn’t eat the wedding food. The almonds had made a nice dessert after the deli meats and cheese in the cooler. He had a pretty good suspicion the wedding cake hadn’t survived the crash. His sister was going to be furious about the cake once she was over hugging and crying that they were still alive.
    Now if he could get Wren to stop fluttering around the damn plane. She was doing her best to stay as far away from him in the cramped space as she could.
    She turned and grabbed the first aid kit from the cockpit where she’d put it earlier. She’d been making a home out of this wreck, finding places for things, making everything as comfortable for them as she could. He understood the need, but now that it was done, she needed to conserve her energy and rest next to him where they could share each other’s heat.
    “I’m sorry, Skip. I should have thought about your arm. Here.” She shook out four pills and handed them to him, her arm fully extended so that she wouldn’t touch him.
    He enclosed his hand over hers. “I’m not going to jump you. Relax.”
    A blush flared in her cheeks. “Sorry.”
    “And quit saying you’re sorry. You have nothing to be sorry about.”
    “I have everything to be sorry about.” She tugged on her arm until he opened his hand. She dropped the pills into his p alm and offered a water bottle.
    He swallowed the pills to keep from venting his frustration. She needed to get over the past. She was a different person. More mature, less fractured. The strong woman he’d always known she could be. Why couldn’t she see that?
    “We need to shut off the light to save the batteries. So if there’s anything you need to do or get before we head to bed, you’d better do it.”
    “Bathroom,” she blurted out. “I need to use the bathroom.”
    Did she really, or was it another delay? Whether she did or didn’t, it was something he needed to address.
    “Okay, we’ll go together.”
    “I’m not peeing with you.”
    “Have you looked out there?” He pointed to the snow plastered windows. “It’s a blizzard. You’ll get lost.”
    She rolled her eyes. “I grew up here too. I’m not some cheechako you have to teach the ropes to.” She stopped, and her eyes widened. “Rope. I saw rope.” She held up a finger in thought.