Two Captains, One Chair: An Alaskan Romantic Comedy (2 page)

Ralph had given me the gold nugget because I’d kept him company the last couple years of his life.  He’d been an old guy who liked to talk, and I was a gossip who liked to listen to his stories.

A lot of people thought I’d been having sex with him.  The truth of the matter is… he’d been a dirty old man, no question about it.  He’d propositioned me, but I told him no, and he hadn’t needed to be told twice.  After we got that over with, I’d really enjoyed his company.

I searched out his son in the crowd.  Ed was average-looking, most of his face hidden by a dark beard, and most of his body hidden by a plaid shirt that was at least one size too big.  His long, straight nose, and that full beard, had definitely come from his father.

As I looked at him, I realized I didn’t know much about Ed.  Which was weird, because I prided myself on knowing everything about everybody.

My eyes narrowed, and I tapped my nails on the table.  “What do we know about Ed?” I asked.

Helly shrugged.  “He’s been here since I moved in—a few years, at least.  Can fix a four-wheeler.  Has sexist friends.”

Around here, everyone had sexist friends.

“He’s Ralph’s son and he looks around our age,” I added.  “That’s it?  That’s all we know?”

“Well…yeah.  He’s not a guide, though I think he’s been one in the past.”  Helly tilted her head.  “Actually, I’m not sure what he
does
do.”

Well, this was a situation that had to be remedied.  Immediately.

“Wait.”  Helly caught my sleeve.  “Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna go ask Ed if he stole my nugget.”  And learn his secrets.

Helly frowned.  “Just like that, you’re just gonna
ask
him?”

“Well… yeah.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?” she asked.  “I’m no super-sleuth, but… it seems like you probably shouldn’t go around telling everyone your nugget is missing.”

“Why the heck not?” I asked, already chafing at the idea of keeping yet another juicy secret.

“Well, for one, who’s to say people are gonna tell you the truth if you ask them right out?  Even the person who stole it—
especially
the person who stole it—will deny everything, and considering they’re a thief, they’re probably also an accomplished liar.”

I tilted my head, considering the logic of her words.

“Wouldn’t it be better if the thief didn’t know you knew your nugget was missing?” Helly continued.  “They might be more likely to slip up, if they didn’t know the theft had been discovered.”

Gary was nodding.  “If it gets out that your gold nugget is missing, your dad’s gonna get involved,” he pointed out.

Well… shit.
  I did
not
want my father involved.

I nodded.  “I’ll keep it to myself.  For now.”

There were two food tables, one entirely devoted to salmon cooked various ways.  Ed had the good taste to be at the other.

I shamelessly elbowed my way in next to him.  He was taller than I’d realized, a solid presence to my left.  Or maybe he just seemed tall because I was so damned short.

I picked up a plate and shuffled along for a few steps, looking for my opening.  I found it when he reached for a slice of Murray’s cherry pie.

“That’s probably sugar free,” I said.  “Murray just got back from the doctor with the news.” 

Ed’s eyes flicked to me.  They had a somber tilt to them, and were lined with thick, dark lashes.

‘What news?’,
I waited for him to say.  When he didn’t, I put on my solemn face and said, “He was just diagnosed with diabetes.”

‘That’s awful!’, he should have said, or ‘Is he okay?’.  And then I could have flashed him my brightest smile and segued into asking him all about himself, which he would have been happy to tell me, because all men were.

Instead, Ed shrugged, and cut himself a slice. 
Dammit.  We have a real live wire here.

I gnawed on my lip as he made it to the end of the table and picked up a napkin.  I couldn’t lose him. 
Must.  Know.  Secrets!

I ‘accidentally’ jostled him.  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” I gushed, clasping the forearm I’d just bumped.  It was firm under the thick flannel of his shirt.

“It’s fine,” he said, looking down at my hand.

I fluttered my lashes, and left my hand on his arm.  “Can you make a recommendation here?  It all just looks so good,” I said, gesturing with my plate.

He didn’t move away, apparently unwilling to risk being rude.  Just like that, I began to form my mental inventory:
Polite.

“Uhhh…”  He glanced at me, and then quickly away. 
Shy.
  He cleared his throat.  “The macaroni salad was surprisingly good.  And Harv’s ribs are excellent, as always.  But then again, ribs are my favorite, so…”

“Oh, great,” I said, still not releasing him.  “How are you?  I don’t see you around much.”

“I’m good,” he said.  “Good.”

“What have you been up to lately?”  I turned to give him my full attention and smiled charmingly up at him.

He shuffled a bit and turned half toward me.  “Just the usual.”

I turned up the wattage of my smile and waited for him to elaborate.

“Just puttering around fixing things.  Going to the bar.”

We had one bar, the Gold Bar, proud holder of the only liquor license on our little stretch of river.  I’d been in the place a couple times on their ladies’ nights, but generally avoided it because it was full of guides and drunken fisherman, neither of which I much wanted to associate with.  All they wanted to talk about were freaking
fish
. 
Ugh.

“Anything interesting happen in the last couple days?” I asked, watching him closely.  It was definitely a one-sided conversation, and usually I would have taken the hint and let him slip away, but not today.  Today, I needed information.

He shook his head as his eyes finally landed on me again.  “No.  Not really.  You?” he asked.

Hazel eyes,
I noted.  Mine were hazel too, but more a light green-brown.  His were darker, with rich hints of blue toward the centers.  They were distractingly pretty.  And that somber tilt to them?  Kinda sexy.  In fact, in that precious moment that I had his complete attention, I decided he wasn’t really bad-looking at all.

“Just work,” I said. 
And a missing nugget.

And, looking into the eyes that were shaped remarkably like Ralph’s, it occurred to me that his dad had died a few weeks ago.  “How are you doing?” I asked, gesturing vaguely.  “You know, after your dad…”

Ed glanced away and shifted backward. “I’m fine.”  He slipped out from under my hand.

I was losing him.

“Caught any fish lately?” I asked in desperation.

“No.” 

And,
shit
!  He was down to one-syllable answers.  This conversation needed rescuing, stat.

He started to turn away.

Did he steal my nugget?  Could I just ask him?  Would that get a spark of life out of him? 
Did you steal my nugget?
  I’d opened my mouth to just spit it out and see what happened when a woman brushed past.

Ed reached out and touched her elbow.  Maria stopped, empty bowl in hand, and smiled at him inquiringly.  She was a nice Hispanic woman with two grown children and an abusive ex-husband.  She’d been cooking for my parents for several years.

“Would you like some help with the dishes?” he asked her.

She glanced at me, and then back at Ed.  “Ed, you don’t have to.  You’re a guest—”

“No, I’d like to help,” he said.

She shrugged, her smile widening into something really pretty.  “Then that’d be wonderful.  Thank you.”

He nodded, and took the bowl from her.  “Excuse me,” he said without making eye contact.  Then he walked away.

I stood gaping after him. 
Burn.
  A man had just opted to wash dishes rather than talk to me.  Surreptitiously, I sniffed my pit.  No, I didn’t smell.  I’d restrained my hair, so it couldn’t have been the scary white-girl fro it sometimes devolved into.  As of my last check, I looked nice this evening.

I spooned a couple items onto my plate, and plopped back down at the table with Helly and Gary.  “Do I have something in my teeth?” I asked.

Helly inspected my smile, then shook her head.  “No.  Why?”

“Ed ran away.”

She shrugged.  “He does that.”

I frowned.

“Did you get a sense of whether or not he did it?” Gary asked.

“Well, he wouldn’t meet my eyes.  I think it’s because he’s shy, but…”  I shrugged, more bothered than I probably should have been that Ed had chosen dirty dishes over my company.  I mean, I was one of only two females under the age of 45 who lived on the river year-round.  I was outnumbered by men four to one in the winter, and probably more like 20 to one in summer.  My company was usually in pretty high demand by the males around these parts.

And now this one, a shy guy with no fashion sense and a big-ass, bushy beard simply brushes me off out-of-hand?  It was insanity. 
Was he gay?

“You could ask him to help you on the barge tomorrow,” Gary suggested.  “Unless you found somebody else?”

Shit
.  The moment my gold nugget went missing, my other problem had flown right out of my head.

I owned and operated Suzy’s Fast Freight, a river barging service.  It was a very lucrative business, because we had no roads.  Essentially, the river was the road, and I drove the equivalent of a tractor-trailer.

But at five foot nothing, with less than a hundred pounds to my name, moving freight without a helper was unfeasible.  I had a single employee which made it possible.  Jimmie was a big, brawny 19-year-old, the son of one of the lodge owners upriver.  I drove and kept the books, while he did all the heavy lifting.  It worked.

Which is why, when Jimmie had called to let me know he’d broken his arm, I knew I had a problem.  Gary also knew I had a problem, since I’d called him asking if he could fill in tomorrow.  He’d told me he was booked to air-lift building supplies with his helicopter.

“Yeah, what about Ed?” Helly asked.  “If you’re wanting to find out about him, it’ll be perfect.  You’ll be alone with him for a few hours.”

“Or I could just tie him to a chair and threaten to smash his kneecaps,” Gary offered.

“Nonono,” I said, putting out both hands to forestall them as Helly’s eyes lit up.

I
did
need help, and the pickings were slim.  My dad had helped me with a barge run or two in the past.  He was in his sixties, but spry, and would probably be willing… but he wouldn’t let me haul a single pound over what he deemed a ‘safe’ load.  He’d also probably report me if we didn’t fill the fuel drums on shore per regulation, or if my load wasn’t ‘properly secured’, or if the wind was blowing south.  The other lodge owners were too damn rich to go for a day of manual labor, and I didn’t think any of them had sons out for the summer.

I looked around at the rest of the male party-goers. 
Back-injury.  Bum knee.  Fishing guide; busy tomorrow morning
.  We were smack-dab in the middle of King Season, so
all
of the guides would be busy.  Really, it looked like my only choice was Ed, and therefore I couldn’t afford to let Gary bust him up.

“But he just brushed me off,” I said, hesitating. It was pretty obvious he didn’t want my company. “Why would he say yes?”

Helly rolled her eyes.  “Ed will say yes,” she said.  “I guarantee it.  And since when have you let something as little as a brush-off stop you?  If you
want
him,” she said with a grin, “go get him!”

I could have sat there and argued with her about exactly what I wanted him for—she had
such
a dirty mind—but instead, I stood up.  “All right,” I said. “I’ll go ask him.”

I let myself in the front door, and wound over to the kitchen.  I knew my way around my parents’ lodge, had actually helped build it in my early teens. I’d also worked here during the summers several years.  I’d cleaned cabins and that damn bath house, and waited tables, and helped chop vegetables.

I found Ed elbow-deep in soap suds, and I took a moment to study him.  He had a nice profile.  Straight posture, slim.  He looked sort of like a lumberjack, all bearded and scruffy in his thick flannel shirt, sturdy work pants, and scarred leather boots. 
Lumberjack is good
, I thought. 

He looked damn good doing dishes.  I wondered if they had any calendars of men doing dishes, ‘cuz I could totally get into it.  I was mesmerized by the way the suds washed away from his tanned hands, and the strong pull and flex of his forearms as he turned a platter under the faucet.

I walked over and lifted myself up to perch on the counter next to him, sitting in place of the dirty pot he’d just picked up.  “Hi,” I said.

The pot slipped from his fingers into the dishwater, clattering against the metal sink and splattering soap suds across his front.  He looked up at me.  From my vantage point, our eyes were almost on a level.  I smiled into his.