Starry Night (6 page)

Well, at least Finn’s dog liked her, and for now that was enough. She continued stroking his fur, burrowing her fingers into his thick coat. “Maybe I should interview you instead,” she suggested quietly. “How does that sound?”

The large wolf/dog didn’t indicate his feelings on the matter one way or another.

“Hennessey, tell me, what’s it like …”

The door opened again, and Finn came in along with a blast of frigid air and an armload of wood. Thankfully, he shut the door and latched it. He set the wood down by the stove, stacking it for the night.

“Can I do anything to help?” Carrie asked.

“Leave.”

“I can’t,” she whispered.

“Don’t I know it.”

“I’d hoped … I’d assumed that Sawyer would fly me in to meet you, and the two of us could briefly chat and then I’d be on my way, mission accomplished.”

“And now I’m stuck with you.”

“Yes, I know, and I apologize.” Seeing that he didn’t welcome her help with the evening meal, she felt the least she could do was get her carry-on bag out of the way.

“Is there someplace you’d like me to put my suitcase?” she asked.

“You mean like in a guest bedroom?” he asked with more than a hint of sarcasm.

“Well, yes.”

He snickered. “There’s only one bedroom, and only one bed, and I’m telling you right now I’m not sleeping on the sofa.”

Chapter Four

This was an unwelcome predicament, and Finn wasn’t the least bit happy. The biggest shock was that Sawyer had turned on him. Sawyer O’Halloran was a friend, a good friend, and beyond reproach … until now. Their brief conversation left more questions than it provided answers. The woman had something for him, Sawyer claimed, but to this point she’d kept it to herself. Finn hadn’t questioned his friend, although the temptation had been strong. Whatever it was had convinced Sawyer to fly her in. To his credit, Sawyer had attempted to reach him.

After several hours of tense silence, Finn loaded wood into the stove and brought out the leftover moose-meat stew for his dinner. He glanced at Carrie and grumbled under his breath. She was a pretty thing, with hair dark enough to be called chocolate and startling blue eyes, although he tried
not to notice anything about her. Women like Carrie Slayton were sure to leave a string of broken hearts in their wake, and Finn was determined not to be one of them. He noticed that she kept touching her head. It appeared to have something to do with her hair, which had twisted into springy ringlets after it’d gotten wet in the snow. She seemed to be self-conscious about it, waiting for him to tease her. He wouldn’t. Truth be known, he found her hair to be one of the most attractive features about her.

Not good. Noticing anything about the woman in his cabin was a sign of weakness, and Finn refused to allow her to take up one iota of consideration.

As much as he hated to admit it, what she said about granting her the interview made sense. If she’d been able to find him, then other reporters would as well, sooner or later. He’d ignored that inevitability longer than he should have. Not that her argument had persuaded him—nothing would. Finn wrote the book to share his love of the wilderness and to fill the long, lonely hours of the winter solitude. Never in his wildest dreams had he expected it to be such an overwhelming success. Thankfully, he’d done all the legal transactions through an attorney, with the stipulation that he maintain his privacy. He hadn’t agreed to a single interview, regardless of repeated attempts by his publisher. Despite how it looked, Finn wasn’t a recluse but simply a man who
enjoyed his solitude. He wasn’t about to disrupt his life and become a media darling.

Finn didn’t dislike women; he simply didn’t trust a single one of them. Those were lessons he’d learned the hard way. His father was never the same after his mother left. He’d grown bitter and hard, and drummed those lessons into Finn. Later Finn had discovered on his own what his father had tried to tell him. Women were fickle and not worth the trouble they caused in a man’s life. He’d fallen for Pamela, but she’d hurt him the same way his mother had hurt his father. Thankfully, Finn had learned early in their relationship that Pamela wasn’t trustworthy. It embarrassed him to remember the way she’d played him. Finn made the mistake of believing he was falling in love with her only to learn she was married and bored and looking for a little action on the side while her husband was overseas. Finn was willing to admit he enjoyed being with women, but he knew better than to involve his heart.

He did feel bad about the sleeping situation. But Carrie was the one who’d come uninvited and unannounced. What she’d done was stupid and dangerous, and there were consequences. Finn refused to give her his bed, although the idea of sharing it with her was fairly tempting. He quickly shook his head, casting the image out of his mind.

Despite his best efforts, his gaze wandered back to her
and her beautiful hair. Who was he kidding? It wasn’t only her hair that attracted him; she was a knockout. Little wonder Sawyer hadn’t been able to refuse her. No doubt she had a string of boyfriends as long as the Alaska shoreline.

Frowning, he realized he wasn’t the only one who noticed how attractive she was. Hennessey had cozied right up to her. Finn wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes. Generally, Hennessey didn’t take kindly to strangers. It seemed his faithful mutt wasn’t immune to her charms, either.

As far as he was concerned, the sooner Carrie Slayton was out of his hair, the better.

Carrie swallowed hard as she surveyed the cozy living room off the kitchen. The couch was old and lumpy, but the only alternative was the floor. “Where would you like me to sleep?” She sat down on the couch, testing it, her hands at her sides. It would do in a pinch, she supposed, and it would be more comfortable than the hard floor.

“Wherever you want. The choice is yours, although I should warn you Hennessey considers the sofa his.”

Finn remained in the kitchen, and from what she could see he appeared to be putting dinner together, heating a pot on the stove. Although it was early evening, it seemed much later. The aroma from the stew was heavenly. Carrie’s stomach
growled, reminding her that it’d been several hours since she’d last eaten, and that had been pretzels the airline handed out during the flight. In her rush to get to the airport, she’d skipped breakfast.

“Getting stuck here for the night wasn’t what I planned, either,” she reminded him. “I don’t appreciate being here any more than you want me,” she said, and then felt she should explain further. “I need to be back in Chicago. Sophie will cover for me, but …” She stopped when it was clear he had no interest in listening to her concerns.

He paused, glanced up, and said, “You should have considered that earlier.”

The wind continued to howl and hiss, reminding her that it could be days before Sawyer would be able to return. This was quickly turning into an unmitigated disaster.

She was deep in her worries, and dinner proved to be a miserable affair. Finn served the stew, which he, thankfully, shared with her. The meat didn’t have a familiar taste, and Carrie decided she was better off not knowing what it was. Bear? Walrus? Mountain goat? For his part, Finn seemed to think if he pretended she was invisible he could completely ignore her. He made it clear he wasn’t interested in conversation. Carrie took the hint and ate her meal in silence. When she’d finished, she politely complimented his efforts and thanked him.

Almost immediately after dinner, Finn went into the bedroom
and returned a few minutes later with two thick blankets and a pillow. Without a word, he handed them to her.

“Thank you,” she said, taking them from him and holding them against her chest. He might have the personality of a rattlesnake, but she wasn’t about to let his bad mood affect her.

Apologizing to Hennessey, she made her bed on the sofa, scooting it as close to the stove as she dared. As soon as she lay down, Hennessey leaped up and snuggled next to her legs. Stretching out her arm, she welcomed the canine’s warmth. This was probably the earliest she’d gone to bed since she was a toddler.

Although she should be exhausted, Carrie found her mind racing. “He’s not going to give me the interview,” she told the dog, rolling onto her back and staring up at the log beams of the ceiling.

“Maybe I will interview you,” she said, and gently petted Hennessey’s head.

The dog rested his chin against her knee in a move that both comforted and warmed her.

“Okay, Hennessey, tell me what it’s like living with the great Finn Dalton, esteemed author of
Alone
.”

She waited, pretending to listen to his answer.

“You can’t mean to say you actually like spending countless hours with such a cantankerous owner? I’m wrong, you say, and he really isn’t as bad as I assume? Frankly, I find
that hard to believe! Oh, I’m sure you’re right, Finn Dalton can be civil, but unfortunately he sees me as an evil threat and he wants to boot me out of here as fast as he can. I know, I know, it’s a shame we couldn’t have reached an understanding. It’s only a matter of time, you know, before others track him down.”

Again she paused as though taking in the dog’s comments.

“Yes, I hear you. To you he’s a good guy, but to me he’s rude and arrogant and a narcissist. Oh, sorry,
narcissist
is a big word. It means he’s completely hung up on himself.”

A loud snort came from the other room, which was a sure sign Finn was listening in on their conversation.

“Okay, I realize you have a few questions for me, too. Ask away.”

She pretended to be listening before she answered. “Like I explained earlier, America is interested in learning what they can about the man who wrote
Alone
. They see Finn as some sort of hero. Little do they know what he’s really like.”

She paused and waited for a couple of moments. “Oh, you want to know how I was able to find him when so many others have failed? Sawyer asked me the same question. He told me a handful of reporters have tried to bribe him and a couple of other bush pilots to help locate Finn, but none of Finn’s friends would betray him.” She yawned as if she were ready to call it a night.

“Answer the dog’s question.” Finn stood in the doorway, holding back the fabric partition. “I’m curious to know what you have for me that convinced Sawyer to bring you here. He’s a good friend, and I know he wouldn’t be easily swayed.”

Carrie sat upright and wrapped her arms around her bent knees. So this is what it took to get the mighty Finn to open up. “If you must know, it was what I told him about your mother.”

“My mother,” Finn repeated slowly. “What does she have to do with any of this?”

“I found her, and—”

“You searched out my mother?” he demanded in what came across as anger mingled with restraint.

“Well, yes. So have others, but I was able to convince her to talk to me. Your mother and I had a good chat, and—”

Finn took two steps into the room and braced his hands against his hips, looking at her as if she were the lowest of the low. “You actually talked to my mother?”

“I just said as much, and she—”

“I don’t care what she said. I want nothing to do with her.”

Carrie sighed, feeling wretched for Joan when all she wanted was to connect with her son. “She told me that you’d probably react like this the minute I mentioned her to you.”

“She walked out on my father and me—”

“Oh, come on, Finn, you have to know it’s more complicated than that. She loves you, and your father didn’t give her many options.”

“Listen, Ms. Busybody, this is none of your business, so stay out of it.” He marched back to the bedroom and pushed aside the curtain with such force she was surprised it didn’t rip in half.

Carrie was ready to wash her hands of this obstinate, unfeeling man. He was unreasonable, unforgiving … and a dozen more unflattering words that circled her mind. Lying back down, she stared up at the ceiling. Hennessey remained at her side.

“He really has mother issues, doesn’t he?” she told the dog, lowering her voice to a whisper.

“I heard that.”

Carrie ignored him, seeing how well he’d managed to pretend she didn’t exist. “His heart must be as cold as ice not to care about his own mother.”

“Stay out of it, Carrie.”

She ignored that, too.

“His attitude toward her explains a great deal. It seems to me Finnegan Dalton has distinct abandonment issues, right along with issues regarding all women.”

He laughed as though he found her analysis amusing.

“Why else would he choose to live in the Alaska wilderness alone?”

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” he muttered.

“But all that is probably just the tip of the iceberg.”

“Would you stop!”

“
Alone
is right.” She raised her voice to be sure he heard her loud and clear. “He’s probably been running away his entire life. Then he had to go and make the mistake of writing a bestselling book that captured the public’s attention. How unfortunate for him.”

Silence.

The blizzard howled outside the door, and Carrie was grateful Hennessey had chosen to stay with her. She punched the pillow several times and then lay back down, pulling the thick blanket over her shoulders and forcing her eyes closed. Finn Dalton could thank his lucky stars she wasn’t writing the article on him right that minute. She couldn’t think of a single flattering comment she could make about this ill-mannered man.