Page 53 of Holiday Hostage
Dad had been particular about their construction as well.
Ten steps, then a landing.
A forty-five-degree turn, then another ten steps. Repeat.
The result was a monolith of wood and steel that had every chance of standing the test of time even in Alaska’s harshest temperatures.
“Got it.” Tarron grabbed the line he’d chucked on board earlier and leaped onto the dock, wrapping the rope around one of the pilings and tying it off.
Maverick and Payton stood at the same time, their arms locked together.
Payton’s eyebrows rose as the moon broke free of the storm and caressed the house with a wan light.
“Wow. Who lives here?” She spoke with a quiet reverence that brought a surge of pride to obscure my pain.
“It’s my dad’s summer home.” I used to come here with him every summer.
We’d spend hours fishing, boating, doing anything and everything there was to do in the Alaska wilderness.
The two-story A-frame boasted a full log style exterior, with large windows along the top half facing the river.
An expansive porch held a series of wooden chairs and tables, along with a fire pit and brick oven.
Dad believed in roughing it the modern way, with all the conveniences available.
He’d taught me a lot about survival and the finer things in life.
Right now, that was all I wanted—to settle in for the night and let loose after the day’s commotion.
We’d earned the right.
I followed Tarron onto the dock and held out my good hand for Payton.
She took it with a grin and laughed when Maverick boosted her toward me with his hands on her ass.
“Will your dad mind?” Payton tossed her long blonde hair from her face and tipped her chin toward the sky.
The move exposed the column of her throat, and all I could think about was tasting the pulse point hammering in my line of sight.
I shook my head and took her hand, helping lead her up the hundred steps from the dock to the main porch.
“He never comes here in the winter. And even if he did, he’d welcome us with open arms.” He’d be curious, especially about our relationship with Payton, but he’d mind his own business.
I loved that about Dad.
He was protective but loose enough to let me live my life, even if he didn’t understand why I did some of the things that I did.
He had raised me to be a hunter and a protector, and I’d never known a better man.
Dad set the bar for manhood, including instilling in me a deep respect for women.
We reached the porch, and I tipped over the ceramic flag, finding the key he’d shown me the last time I visited.
I shoved the key into the lock, and the door opened without protest.
It smelled a bit musty but with a lingering touch of Dad’s cologne and gun oil mixed with gunpowder.
I drew the air into my lungs and let the feeling of home wash over me.
