Page 21 of Jackson's Redemption
Later that day…
Kate
“Ugh!” I said as soon as I dropped my gear inside the cabin door. “We didn’t see a single animal. Not one. How can we be in Alaska and not see anything?”
“It’s a big place. Be patient,” he said, coming in behind me.
“Says the guy who lives here and must see animals all the time. I mean, not even a moose or anything.”
I took the camera from around my neck and set it on top of my gear. The sun was still high in the sky, which was crazy given how late it was. Probably pushed our hunt for wildlife a little farther because of that. Suddenly, I realized I was starving.
“What time is it?”
“Almost eight-thirty.”
I shook my head. “How does anyone get any sleep around here?”
“Heavy curtains. It helps.”
This cabin didn’t have windows. It was only about three hundred square feet total. A bed, an Adirondack chair that didn’t look comfortable. A small fireplace with a chimney that Jackson didn’t think we would need. There was no running water, either. Only an attached outhouse that I could get to through a small door without having to go outside.
The only light was from the gas lantern Jackson had hung on a hook from the ceiling. On high, it was still dim inside. On low, I could barely see him.
“Guess we cook outside?”
“Planned to.”
Good. Because it was as I suspected. The two of us in this tight space was threatening my willpower. Every time we moved, we touched each other. A brush here. A pat there. I didn’t think he was doing it on purpose.
I didn’tthinkI was.
He left the cabin with a box of supplies. I shucked off my coat because, after hiking all day, I was warm. I tossed it on the bed and left the cabin to go help him. I thought about how frustrating and fun the day had been overall. Jackson knew what he was doing tracing animal trails, we just hadn’t gotten lucky.
We had talked. We had been silent. We had worked together well.
It had been good. Too good.
I made my way outside and saw that he’d put up a serviceable campfire. Equipped a stick structure able to hold a small skillet. He was on his knees blowing into the tinder to get the fire going. Once again, I had visions of ass-biting that I had to forcibly block out of my mind.
“What’s on the menu?”
“Hot dogs and beans.”
“Hot dogs!” I shouted. Loud enough he looked over his shoulder at me. “Yes, I know have an unusual reaction when it comes to hot dogs.”
I sat on a log not too far from the fire. I could see he had a packet of hot dogs, rolls, a small plastic bottle of mustard. I was in heaven.
“Are we going to cook them on sticks?” I asked, rubbing my hands together.
“You’re really serious about this hot dog.”
“Well, my diet is pretty regimented. My dad…” I huffed out a breath but then pushed through it. I tried not to think about my dad and I sneaking away after a healthy dinner my mom had made us to this hot dog stand near the high school. I told myself there were still good memories I was allowed to have.
“It’s okay, Kate.”
Yes. It was okay to be sad. With Jackson. “Anyway, he was a fitness nut. Worked out all the time, watched everything he put in his body. Taught me to do the same. Being a cop, too, it was important to be as fit as the guys around me. Don’t misunderstand. I’m not saying I had their physical strength, but it meant something for me to be as physically fit as I could be so they would trust I was serious about the job. Anyway…hot dogs are the one unhealthy vice I allow myself every once in a while. When the choice is taken out of my hands, it’s even better because there is zero guilt. So I’ll say again, HOT DOGS!”
He puffed out a sound that was close, very close, to what might have been a laugh. Maybe I was on a roll.
