Susan Kearney - A Night Without End

No admiration for the cozy touches nearly foreign in the male-dominated Kesky. No appreciative comments over the homestead he’d worked an entire summer to build. He supposed he shouldn’t expect a woman to understand that while he’d cut western red cedar, notched logs and sanded the pine flooring, the mountain cabin had become as much a part of him as this glacier-fed wilderness paradise. His small diesel generator hummed, supplying all the electricity they needed. She had to point out the one convenience he couldn’t supply.

“I don’t have a phone.”

“What?” Her eyes widened, and unwilling to take his word, she stalked across the pine floor, ducked her head into the kitchen, paused, then marched into the bedroom to check for herself.

He shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the hook on the back of the door. He hung up her coat, too. Alaska was no place for a woman. The harsh winters didn’t agree with them. Sure, a few tough gals lived in Kesky, but there could be no denying that the long winters took their toll.

A memory of his mother, sick and shoveling snow, made him remember his promise to himself. He’d never ask a woman to stay with him. Especially not a woman accustomed to beaches and tropical heat.

And now he’d gone and done just that. He’d lied to Carlie, telling her they were man and wife. At the time, his lie had seemed the right thing to do. But now…

He considered telling her the truth.

She cleared her throat loudly. “You expect me to stay here without a phone?”

So much for telling the truth. She was already looking for excuses to leave and he’d be damned if he’d give her another one. He walked to the freezer, took out some ice, wrapped it in a towel and handed it to her. “Put this on that lump on your head and maybe the swelling will go down.”

“Thanks.”

She’d leave in a heartbeat if he didn’t give her a powerful reason to stay. Still, he hesitated. Jackson had brought him up better than to become a liar.

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