Wild Men of Alaska 01 - Impact

traveled down her body in a slow inspection and then back up again.
    Did he like what he saw? Why hadn’t she checked her make up? She should’ve worn something more becoming than old jeans and a SeaHawks Sweatshirt. This was Alaska. It would have been insane to wear a skirt and heels. But then why did she care? She wished she could read his mind to know what he was thinking.
    He reached for her carryon. “Let me take that.”
    “I’ve got it.” She tightened her grip when he tried to take it from her. A childish tug of war ensued until he finally let go.
    “Suit yourself. This way.” Was that a smile teasing the corners of his lips before he turned away? If he was laughing at her, well she’d...She’d what?
    Get a grip, Wren. The man hasn’t given you a thought in the last five years. Get over him already.
    Besides, she didn’t need to follow him. She knew the way. It wasn’t like King Salmon was a huge airport. It was a dinky one-room building that saw most of its traffic in the summer months from fishermen passing through on their way to Bristol Bay. The richest salmon fishing grounds in the world was just thirty miles west of King Salmon. King Salmon also had the closest airport to freedom from Egegik. Thanks to the government who’d set up an Air Force base during World War II, because of the strategic position this area held to Russia and Japan.
    Wren fell into step behind Skip and refused to admire his firm, muscular backside. She wiped the lie off her brow along with the fine sheen of sweat that had gathered there.
    “Jim, she’s here,” Skip informed the tall man in Carhartt overalls. He was well over six feet with a buzz cut of salt and pepper hair and a closely cropped beard. How he folded himself into the cockpit of the small plane that would fly them across the miles of spongy tundra pock marked with lakes was beyond her?
    “All right. Let’s get this bird in the air,” Jim said. He looked Wren up and down. “You’re what, a hundred and thirty-five, hundred and forty pounds?”
    Holy Mother of Pearl.
    A fiery blush heated her face. She’d forgotten that when flying in small bush planes, pilots required actual weight in order to help distribute everything evenly in the plane. Having that number out there in front of Skip was one more indignity to add to the list.
    “One-thirty-eight,” she said through gritted teeth. How she wanted to lie and tell them both that she carried a trim one hundred and twenty pounds on her small five foot three inch frame. It was heading into winter and she’d need those few extra pounds as insulation. Sounded good in her head. Not so much in practice. So she was hippy and had generous breasts. Breasts like hers didn’t happen naturally without a little bit of weight to fill them out.
    “Skip?” Jim didn’t bat an eye as he consulted his clipboard. “Need your weight.”
    “Two-ten.”
    And all of it muscle.
    “Okay, let’s load up.” Jim turned and headed out the door to the tarmac. Skip grabbed his backpack and hitched it onto his shoulders—along with her carryon.
    “I can get that,” she sputtered, reaching for her stuff. The whole idea of Skip anywhere near her personal items wigged her out. She had a tough enough time dealing with him this close to her person.
    “So can I,” Skip said, walking out into the dreary afternoon.
    Rain had started to spit. No surprise there. The only time it didn’t rain in King Salmon was when it was snowing and blowing and you were thankful because if the weather was stagnant the mosquitoes ate you alive.
    “I’ll help Jim load the plane,” Skip said. “You climb in.”
    Even though she wanted to ignore anything that Skip told her to do, there was no way to refute what had to be done. She had to get to Egegik. In order to do that, she needed to board the plane. Her luggage also had to reach the small village, and Skip and Jim were more apt at loading than she was. She’d only be in the way. Besides, she wanted to get as far away from Skip as she possibly could, as fast as she could. She buttoned up and climbed into the Cessna 206, taking the backseat, buckling in and praying that Skip wouldn’t sit next to her.
    The plane dipped with weight as first Jim and then Skip climbed in and buckled into the front seats of the tiny aircraft. Thank God she had the backseat to herself.
    Maybe she’d survive this flight after all.
    ***
    Skip tried not to stare when Wren climbed into the backseat of the