Chapter Eight
Bjørn watchedSadie across the booth as she dragged her fry through the concoction she’d made out of ketchup and mustard. She waved at a couple as they walked through the door, then pulled her sleeve down over her wrist. Bjørn wrinkled his forehead. Why did she always do that? Why was she in a long-sleeved shirt, for that matter? The summer sun burned hot that afternoon, vanishing all the clouds by noon and making him sweat.
“I still can’t believe how well Rowdy did today.” She grabbed her glass of iced tea and pointed it at him. “I think you had a big part in that. Bringing that tennis ball was genius. It not only had Rowdy equating you and the chopper with fun, but got him connecting with you.”
Bjørn shook his head at the compliment, though he wanted to stand up and cheer that he’d made a good impression. “No, the genius part was how you kept him calm as the rotors fired up. Whatever you’ve done with him has worked. He only showed a little hesitance.” Bjørn still marveled at the dog’s lack of reaction. “After that, he was cool as a cucumber.”
“Super Dog.” She winked, tossed a half-eaten fry on her plate, and pushed it to the edge of the table. “So, you said you have six siblings, one who is a pararescueman. What do the others do?”
“Well, Lena was an army medic turned bodyguard for a private security firm. Now she’s married and helps her husband with his business. Tiikâan has a guide business in the Interior. He’s a bush pilot.” Bjørn took a drink of his soda. “Magnus is a smokejumper. Sunny takes people to the top of Denali, and Astryd owns a commercial fishing vessel.”
With each name, Sadie’s jaw dropped lower and lower. Man, she was adorable. She snapped it shut and shrugged.
“So, nothing special.” She feigned nonchalance.
“Nah. Just your typical Alaskan family.” Bjørn chomped on some ice.
“Are you kidding me?” She laughed, and the sound tumbled down his spine and made him smile. “That’s extreme, even for Alaska.”
“Normally a family will have one, maybe two rebels. Us, well …” Bjørn’s smile stretched across his face at the thought of his family. “Dad always said if we weren’t living up to our name, we were doing something wrong.”
“Because you wouldn’t want the name Rebel and be something like an accountant.” Sadie nodded in seriousness. The noise in the restaurant increased as a group of tourists came in, and Bjørn leaned forward to hear her better. “It just wouldn’t be right.”
“Exactly.”
She chuckled as she pulled papers out of her backpack. “Should we get busy planning our next go with the chopper?”
It was why they had met for dinner. At some point, dinner had turned from a business meeting to a date. At least for him. She obviously had more focus than he did, which was funny since he was the one with the lists.
“Sure. What are you thinking? Are we taking to the air or keeping our heads out of the clouds?” It surprised him he didn’t care if they went flying.
He’d had fun that morning, seemed to every time he was around Sadie. The tourists cheered as another group walked in, and the volume of the group increased. If any more showed up, he wouldn’t be able to think, let alone hold a conversation.
Sadie shook her head with a smile and said something.
“What?” Bjørn leaned closer, the table pushing into his gut.
“They’re a fun bunch,” Sadie yelled, her smile getting bigger and her deep brown eyes sparkling with joy.
She seemed to feed off the energy, even if they could barely hear each other. The crowd’s arrival gave him an idea, though. He stood, stacked their plates on his corner of the table, then slid into the booth next to her.
“I don’t want to have to yell.” Bjørn stopped with a hands-width between them.
Sadie went from relaxed to tense in a nanosecond. The maps shook as she set them on the table, and her breaths rasped so loud he could hear her over the crowd. He scooted away, his heart shrinking in his chest.
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He went to get out and move back across the booth, but her hand clamped around his forearm stopping him.
“It’s … it’s not you.” She closed her eyes. Her lips trembled as she licked them. “It’s stupid, really.” She peeked at him with teary eyes before slamming her lids back closed. “I hate feeling trapped.”
Her fingers tightened on his arm, and he slid his fingers over them. He knew all about fears. Wasn’t that why he always sat facing the door? That he hadn’t thought about that as he’d moved to sit next to her had him hoping he could ease her fear like she’d made him forget about his.
“Would it help if you were on the outside?” He rubbed his fingers along the back of hers. “If not, I can move back to the other side.”
“I can—” She swallowed and gazed at him. “You’d switch seats?”
Her fingers unclenched from his arm and threaded through his. With her staring at him with such appreciation, his body coursed with energy, like he’d just chugged four shots of espresso. He’d probably fly the chopper to the moon and back if she asked him to.
“If it helps, absolutely,” he said.