Page 43 of Thunder Pass

“Tell me,” Ruth said softly. “It must have been a scary memory. You were shouting something.”

“No, it was just…my father. Sparring. Then getting run over by a herd of bison. That wasn’t the memory part,” he said quickly, when Ruth’s eyes widened. In the light pouring in through the window, his eyes were a very clear shade of blue, like bluebird feathers. During his dream, he’d gotten the covers all tangled up with his clothes, and now his t-shirt rode halfway up his body, revealing the muscles of his stomach and chest.

She tried hard not to look that direction. His legs were bare, too, sprawled apart with no blanket over them. More long, lean muscles, more light golden sprinkles of hair.

He seemed oblivious to her fascination with the exposed parts of his body. He clawed a hand through his hair and frowned up at the ceiling.

“I wanted to go to Thunder Pass with some kids from Juneau. He didn’t want me to, and I thought it was just because it was our sparring time. But then he said something about rafting on Snow River instead.”

“You didn’t like that idea?”

“It’s not that. The thing is, I never told him about the rafting trip. I don’t like rafting, so I’d already passed on that invite. I never even asked my dad. So how did he know about it?”

“Maybe it was common knowledge that they were going? Or maybe he talked to the kids himself?” She didn’t understand why any of this was strange.

But Gunnar was still wrestling with the memory. “No. I remember now I saw him talking to the group leader, and it was weird. They were at The Fang, which was a place I wasn’t supposed to go back then. But I did anyway. I saw him at the corner table having a very intense conversation with the guide. Jesus, what was his name? He worked for a wilderness outfit. Dan Bradford. That was it. He worked for Wild North Adventures. He and my dad were talking like they knew each other. But I wasn’t supposed to be there, so I never asked my dad about it.”

That was a little more interesting. But Ruth could think of any number of reasonable explanations for that. “Maybe this Dan Bradford was getting some local knowledge about the terrain.”

“Only one way to find out.” Gunnar pushed aside the tangle of pillows and cover and swung his legs over the side of the bed. All the breath left Ruth’s body as she watched the flex of his muscles moving like a finely tuned work of art—or a lion, or some other magnificent wild creature.

He picked up his phone and dialed the front desk. “Can you find a phone number for me? I’m looking for Wild North Adventures.”

He jotted down the number, then called it. Meanwhile, Ruth went to the bathroom and splashed water on her face. She felt grungy from sleeping in the same clothes she’d danced in last night. The shower stall fascinated her—she’d only recently discovered showers, when she’d moved in with Martha. Before that, she’d cleaned up in a galvanized washtub in the women’s section of the longhouse. In the summer, they often used a creek that fed a lovely pool in a far corner of the property.

But Martha’s shower was barebones compared to this one. In hers, you stood on a wooden pallet after activating a small water pump with a switch. The hot water only lasted a short amount of time, so you had to quickly wash your hair and hope for the best. This one had a shower head the size of a pumpkin and sleek stainless-steel handles.

She stripped off her clothes and stepped into the frosted glass cubicle. When the warm water hit her body, she moaned out loud from the sheer pleasure of it. Hotels had plenty of water, right? She didn’t have to hurry this experience along. Losing all track of time, she luxuriated in the pounding of water on her back, the fragrance of the soap lather, the unusual circumstance of doing something solely and purely for herself.

At some point, she came out of her trance because someone was knocking on the door.

“I need to pee!” Gunnar yelled through the door. “Can I come in?”

Ruth’s heart nearly stopped. Come in? In the bathroom? With her? She peered at the frosted glass, which was clouded with condensation. Gunnar wouldn’t be able to see much more than an outline of her body. The same in reverse.

“Okay!” She called back. Just to be safe, she kept a hand over her private area as he eased the door open. As his big body slid into the room, she felt heat rise inside her belly, and tingles came to life under her hand.

She knew about masturbation, though she’d never discussed it with anyone. At first, when she’d discovered the incredible way she could make herself feel with her own hand, she’d wondered if she should feel ashamed. But it wasn’t hurting anyone, and no one knew anyway. And it felt too good to consider stopping.

As Gunnar’s form filled the room on the other side of the glass, she imagined his hand where hers was. His body stepping into this glass-enclosed paradise with her. The images were almost too much for her, and she snatched her hand away from between her legs.

“You okay in there?” Gunnar called over the sound of the shower. “You’ve been in there a while.”

She heard the flush of the toilet, and the running of water over his hands.

“Fine!” She squeaked.

No. She wasn’t fine. She wanted…him. She wanted to wrap her legs around him and rub on him. She wanted to put her lips on his body, everywhere and anywhere. This was her opportunity. Right now. The two of them were alone in a hotel bathroom. When was that ever going to happen again?

Without thinking one more second about it, she flung open the shower stall door and stepped out, stark naked.

And immediately slipped on the soaking-wet shower mat and windmilled her arms to keep from falling backwards and hitting her head. Gunnar lunged toward her and caught her in his arms. “Whoa there,” he said, his voice so raspy it sent a thrill through her. He squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m still in here.”

“I know.”

Her plan had failed miserably. Even though she was now being held in his arms, his eyes were closed. Why would he do that if he was interested in the same thing she was? She closed her eyes too, wishing she could think of some reasonable explanation for why she’d jumped naked from the shower into his arms. The drip of water from her body onto the floor tiles punctuated her humiliation. Dumb, dumb, dumb.

She felt movement, the floor under her feet, a towel coming around her body. She opened her eyes to see Gunnar’s blue ones meeting hers with a whole new expression—hot awareness and anticipation.

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