Arctic Heat (Frozen Hearts) Page 5

  “More like you don’t want to winter with me.” Owen laughed lightly. Damn it. Why did Owen have to be so reasonable? “I’ll be fine. Like I told you yesterday, I’m adaptable. And I’m not picky about which state park I’m based out of. This should be fun, regardless.”

  Fun. There was that damn word again, and this time, Quill couldn’t hold his temper back. “If you’re looking for fun, you’re looking in the wrong place. This is hard work. Grueling even. Long days. Hattie wasn’t wrong that it’s more than a one-person job, but it’s way more than a lark. And if you’re thinking I’m up for...anything extra, you’d be wrong.”

  “Hard work and fun aren’t mutually exclusive.” Owen’s dark eyes flashed with more emotion than Quill had seen from him thus far. “I’m prepared to work hard. You’re the one who has doubted that from the start. Guess I’ll simply have to prove you wrong.”

  “I didn’t mean...” Quill trailed off lamely because he had meant that he didn’t think Owen could last the winter. Hadn’t meant to be rude about it, but he still couldn’t deny the opinion. “Look, things don’t have to be this awkward. You could ask—”

  “Things are only going to be awkward if you let them.” More from Mr. Reasonable. “And no, I’m not going to ask for a change. For what it’s worth, I’m not planning to spend all winter hitting on you either. I can take a hint, and closet cases might be fun for a night, but it’s hardly my regular jam either.”

  “I’m not... That is...” Fuck. Was that seriously disappointment wiggling its way around Quill’s spine, getting into his head? He didn’t want Owen hitting on him. And what did it matter what Owen thought about him? “I’m a private person.”

  “Hey, I’m not judging. You do you.” Owen’s tone was somewhere between understanding and patronizing and made Quill’s neck muscles tense. JP had had a similar judgy tone, always unable to understand Quill’s aversion to drama. And Quill wasn’t without understanding that most people preferred to live a little more loudly than he was capable of. But he still resented the implication that he was some sort of prude.

  Prude implied a certain unreasonableness, an insistence on clinging to irrational fears. But Quill knew all too well that his issues weren’t arbitrary. Others hadn’t walked his path, hadn’t endured all the teasing and prodding until the very idea of being open made him break out in a cold sweat. Even so, he’d tried, once upon a time. Let himself be young and foolish. And he’d carry his father’s red face and angry words and everything that happened after to his grave. No, he wasn’t being irrational. Life wasn’t always rainbow T-shirts and jubilant parades. Sometimes openness carried a steep price, and Quill wasn’t going to apologize for not wanting to pay that price, not again.

  “Professional is best in any event.” Quill made himself sound as reasonable as Owen had, like they were negotiating a used car sale, not letting memories of the night before cloud his judgment. The best thing really would be if they could forget the kiss ever happened. If that was even possible with his lips still tingling, remembering how Owen had felt and tasted.

  “I can do professional.” Owen shifted his tea to his left hand and stuck out the right. “It’ll be a good winter. Promise. And you never know. We might actually end up friends.”

  Ha. It had taken Quill and Hattie years to approach true friendship. No way was Quill getting there with Owen in a matter of months, especially not when he’d need to keep his distance to avoid falling into temptation again. Not when merely shaking Owen’s hand caused warmth to snake up his spine. Survival, not friendship, had to be his goal here.

  * * *

  Owen meant what he told Quill—he wasn’t going to spend all winter hitting on someone who’d made it clear he wasn’t interested. Even if Quill’s reaction to their kissing and the heat in his eyes this morning, when Owen would have expected nothing but cold and awkward, said he was interested. Owen might favor the direct route to getting what he wanted, but he wasn’t going to make a pest of himself. A miserable winter for either of them wasn’t what he wanted. But all that didn’t mean he wasn’t a pragmatic optimist—it was likely to be a long seven months, and he liked his chances for getting more kisses at some point, even if he didn’t go out of his way to make Quill uncomfortable with repeated invitations. Some things were just inevitable, and anything with as much combustible energy as they’d had the night before was bound to catch fire at some point.

  And man, he craved the flames, craved finding out what Quill would be like if he ever lowered his iron self-control completely. The kissing had been so good, so all-consuming that even now, hours later, it was all he could think about. He’d walked around downtown Anchorage last night, had another beer at a bar his review app touted as being inclusive, but simply couldn’t get up the enthusiasm for socializing, let alone hooking up with someone else. He wouldn’t go so far as to say Quill had ruined him for kissing others with a single make-out session, but it was a close thing. He wouldn’t soon be forgetting how Quill had tasted, what he’d sounded like, how he’d let Owen seize control while still being very much an active participant.

  But he really needed to stop thinking about Quill’s kisses, and focus on the training. On the agenda for the second day was more preparedness education as well as certification tests for the CPR. He needed to pass the tests, not wallow in thoughts of the previous night. Or their testy conversation that morning. Quill was understandably pissed about the change in plans, but really, all Owen could do was try his best to prove him wrong.

  As luck would have it, he was back in Quill’s group for the CPR test, which had a hands-on portion in addition to a written quiz. Owen’s last class had been all in one day, and the way they had split this one up had him worried that he might have forgotten something overnight. Quill, of course, went first and easily passed the demonstration portion. Owen had never been a nervous test taker, but knowing Quill’s eyes were on him made it that much harder, that old need to impress driving him to strive for perfection. Somehow he made it through though, getting his certification card.

  “Nice work,” Quill said on their way back to their seats for the next scheduled session, which was on land-use regulations and conflicts they would need to be aware of. Something in his tone made Owen bristle—like he kept expecting Owen to fail. He didn’t mind pleasantly surprising people, but constant negative assumptions got old quickly. He also had a feeling Quill’s attitude was going to translate into him not trusting Owen in the field, which was going to suck. And maybe Quill wouldn’t trust any volunteer they assigned him, but Owen was determined to prove him wrong, even if he had to do it with gritted teeth.

  It turned out that Quill was helping Hattie present the topic, talking about how to resolve disputes between irate residents and day users peacefully. No matter his ire, Owen did like listening to him speak, and was almost sad when they shifted to the final session on emergency maintenance—generators, vehicles, roofs, and other pitfalls to watch for.

  Speaking of vehicles, that was next on Owen’s list after the training wrapped up. The stipulations for the volunteer position required that he have a personal four-wheel drive car, and rather than deal with the hassle of shipping or driving something up, he’d simply sold the SUV he wasn’t particularly attached to in California, and would buy something used but reliable here, looking to sell it again before leaving in early May.

  As the training wrapped up, he was finishing an email exchange with a local dealership when Quill came over.

  “So...uh...guess I’ll see you in a few days?” Quill’s uncertainty would be adorable if he weren’t also looking like he was heading for a seven-month tour of sewer systems or something equally unpalatable.

  “Yup. I’ve just got to pick up my car, then I’m playing tourist until the fifteenth. Unless you need me sooner?”

  “No, no, the fifteenth is fine.” Quill swallowed hard before his expression turned more thoughtful. “Car? You need h
elp getting a vehicle? Need me to go with you?”

  “I’ve got it handled.” Owen held up his phone. “I’ll get a ride to the dealership—they’ve got a newer used SUV for me to look at. Assuming it checks out, I’ll probably be out of there and on the road shortly. I’m headed to Talkeetna and Denali for the weekend.”

  “You’re very...” Quill’s head tilted as he paused for a long second. “Self-sufficient.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” Owen said, even though he wasn’t sure if that’s how Quill had meant it. But he saw his hard-won independence as a good thing, too many years of being the coddled younger sibling and too many months of being unable to do even the simplest tasks for himself after chemo giving him a serious aversion to being dependent on others.

  “Just don’t let it lead you to taking silly risks. I’ve seen that happen with tourists more than a time or ten.”

  “I’ll be fine. Besides, if I get eaten by a bear in Denali, you’d probably be relieved, right?”

  A pained expression crossed Quill’s face. “No. Not relieved. You do seem determined to make keeping you alive until spring a challenge, though.”

  Quill’s concern was both sweet and maddening. “I’m not your responsibility. I’m coming to help you, not be another chore.”

  “Everything up there is my responsibility.” Quill’s voice was firm. “You included.”

  “We’ll see about—” Owen cut himself off as Hattie came striding over.

  “So glad to see you two talking.” She did a good job of being oblivious to their simmering tension with her cheerful tone. “Owen, you’ll be in my old quarters. I left behind a number of things you’ll probably find useful, and don’t hesitate to call me with any questions or if you need something.”

  “Thank you.” For some reason, her concern grated far less than Quill’s. And he happily took advantage of her presence to extricate himself from further argument with Quill. “See you soon, Quill. I better be going to see about this car.”

  “Quill knows cars,” Hattie offered, and Owen barely suppressed a groan.

  “So do I.” He wasn’t lying—he had been forced to take auto shop as a high school elective when his first three choices were all filled, and he’d bought enough cars over the years to have a good idea what he was looking for. And he really resented the implication that Quill might be better suited to the task of car buying than him, one more in the pile of assumptions Quill kept making about him and what he was capable of. “I’ve got this.”

  And as he headed out of the room after a few more goodbyes, he could only hope that was true. He wanted to impress Quill in the worst way, not be a liability. However, his innate confidence had never failed him before, and he had to believe they could get beyond this somewhat rocky beginning. Even if it meant putting his hot ranger fantasies on the back burner, focusing first on winning Quill’s respect. He didn’t want to stop and examine why he wanted—needed—that regard so much, but he could already tell that he’d do everything he could to earn it.

  Chapter Six

  A surprisingly sharp wind bit into Owen’s skin as he loaded up his new SUV for the drive to Hatcher Pass, and he hoped it wasn’t a sign of the chilly reception awaiting him there. He was back in Anchorage after spending several days driving around—spending time both in the Denali area as well as going south to the Kenai Peninsula. While Hattie had left her quarters mainly furnished for him, he’d still had to round out the suggested supplies he’d need until his next chance to make it into a city. And a few days of spotty cell service had convinced him to indulge in an upgrade to a sat phone. Much as he usually enjoyed shopping, especially for electronics, he’d tried to hurry, wanting to be there at the time he’d told Quill to expect him.

  I’ll be waiting.

  The period made Quill’s text seem even more ominous in response to Owen’s message about his arrival time. He’d also curtly denied needing anything from a store. Whatever. A few days of exploring had helped Owen’s mood, reminded him of why he wanted to do this, and left him more determined to make it work. He ignored Quill’s protestations that he didn’t need anything, picking up some good-quality chocolates and the Solstice IPA he liked as a peace offering.

  Knowing how tightly Quill was wound, he did his best to make good time coming out of Anchorage, but he still wasn’t used to the curving mountain roads he encountered after he left the highway. As he’d already found in his travels the past few days, getting behind a line of slow-moving RVs could easily double expected travel times.

  Not that he blamed them for creeping along—in addition to the roads being tricky as they gained elevation, the views were spectacular, fading golden scrubby grass and bushes interspersed with proud green fir trees and jagged gray rock stretching up to meet a gentle blue sky, not even a hint of clouds. This area of the state was known as being one of the crown jewels of Alaskan tourism, close enough to Anchorage for easy access but rugged enough for even seasoned outdoor enthusiasts. The Department of Natural Resources labeled the region Mat-Su, short for Matanuska-Susitna Borough, with the regional office in Wasilla, where Quill’s boss was based out of.

  On either side of the road, snow-covered peaks hugged the narrow pass, and he could easily see how challenging this road would become once winter arrived in earnest, especially once he hit gravel, the last couple of miles to the visitor center being especially bumpy. Once the snow hit, plowing would stop about a mile and half from this section, the only way in and out via skis, snowshoes, or snowmobile.

  A small collection of buildings greeted him—historic mining cabins and equipment interspersed with a modern visitor center and public restrooms. Parking in the large lot, he shouldered one of his bags as he made his way toward the buildings. Large signs advised of the various trailheads nearby, and Owen’s stomach fluttered happily as his excitement built. He couldn’t wait to—

  “You’re late.” A scowling Quill in front of the visitor center put an abrupt end to Owen’s daydreaming. In his uniform, Quill seemed even more imposing than Owen had remembered.

  “Sorry. Hit unexpected traffic.” Owen shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

  “It’s okay.” Quill’s heavy sigh as he reached for Owen’s luggage said it really wasn’t. “Let me get that.”

  “No, it’s fine. I’ve got it.” Owen snatched the bag back. “Just show me where to put my stuff, and then you can put me to work.”

  “Figured I’d let you get a lay of the land today so to speak. I’ll give you a quick tour to start, and you’ll come on patrol with me later too. Tomorrow’s soon enough for the maintenance projects we’ve got waiting for you.”

  Given Quill’s obvious discomfort, the offer of a tour was generous, and he tried to reward Quill with a smile. However, Quill’s going-into-surgery grim expression didn’t waver as he led Owen into the visitor center and up a flight of stairs. He’d already known from the job listing that both he and Quill had small apartments up here with shared common space, not unlike the dorm Owen had occupied in college. The common room was large and homey with a kitchen at one end, table and chairs in the middle, and then couch, bookshelves, and a large wood-burning stove on the other end.

  “Bathroom.” Quill pointed to a room beyond the couch. “Old plumbing is such that it’s shared, sorry. We’re lucky they managed to rig a shower up here at all.”

  “It’s okay. Shower is good.” Not having to traipse downstairs in the middle of the night was good enough for Owen. Unbidden, the image of Quill showering crept into his head—big body filling the small shower stall, water rolling off...

  Get a grip, he lectured himself as he tried to return his focus to what Quill was saying.

  “And this is your space.” Quill opened another door on the other side of the bathroom. Bigger than most of the dorm rooms Owen had occupied, it had a full-size bed on one wall,
dresser, bookshelves, desk, and a small counter with hot plate and coffee maker.

  “Nice.” Owen set his bag on the bed. Calling it an apartment had been overselling the room, but it was comfortable enough and Owen wasn’t someone who needed a ton of space—he’d lived with San Francisco rents too much of his life to be picky about that. The whole place was humble and rustic but comfortable, unlike the stilted conversation. He could easily live here for the seven months, but he wasn’t as sure about the tension simmering between them. Forget mattresses and hot showers—he needed them to be on good terms more than he needed any creature comforts.

  To that end, he opened the bag, removed the beer and chocolate. “I brought you some beer for the fridge. How did you and Hattie usually work meals? I’m happy to cook.”

  Quill frowned. “I’m usually good with fending for myself. I eat at odd hours anyway. Don’t worry about me.”

  Owen had a feeling Quill was at least partially lying. He and Hattie were too close not to have shared some meals, but Quill’s firmly set mouth seemed ready to shut down any further overtures. And Owen would have argued the point, but there was something uncertain in Quill’s eyes that gave him pause.

  “That’s fine.” He’d just have to work on other avenues to friendship, figure out how to make Quill more comfortable. Going back into the common room, he placed the beer in the fridge before turning back to Quill. “So about that tour? Or should I get the rest of my stuff first?”

  “We can do both. I’ll help with your luggage, then we can take the ATVs out for the tour. Do you know how to drive one?”

  “Yup. They had us driving them all over at the resort in Tahoe when I worked there, and I’ve ridden with friends since then.” He enjoyed Quill’s look of surprise far more than he should have. Quill was simply going to have to learn that Owen really was up for anything he wanted to throw at him.