Page 11 of Thaw of Spring (Knife’s Edge, Alaska #2)

A fter staying the night with May, back at the tavern, Amka took two ibuprofen from the drawer below the register and swallowed them dry.

She nodded at Lucas Landom as he took his normal to-go order of two breakfast burritos and headed out the door.

The tanker chief was predictable, if nothing else.

The breakfast rush had wrapped, and the place had settled into its usual mid-morning rhythm.

Down the street, Janet and Gus had the diner open all day now, drawing the early regulars with pancakes and chatter, which meant fewer greasy orders on Amka’s grill in the morning and more time to breathe.

It was good. She liked the tavern better in the off-hours, when she could hear herself think and wipe down counters that didn’t need it yet.

The door opened. A man stepped inside wearing a sun-worn pack and trail dust on his jeans.

He had tan skin, was clean-shaven, and moved with a calm, steady way that held grace.

He glanced around, gave her a small nod with his blond head, and headed to the bar.

“Hi there. Could I get a Bloody Mary?” He slid onto a stool and rested his arms on the counter.

“You’ve got it.” She pulled the vodka and mix from the cooler and reached for a glass.

“My name’s Steve Coldtrap. I’m doing the challenge.” He watched her make the drink.

She added olives, lemon, and celery, not rushing. She’d been hearing about the beef jerky contest all morning. “The fifty grand thing?”

He smiled. “That’s the one. I need to interview one person from Knife’s Edge to enter the contest. Would you be willing to answer a few questions?”

She placed the drink in front of him. “No thanks. You’re the fourth influencer to ask today.” It was doubtful many locals were agreeing to that part of the contest. “Also, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t film in here. Even though it’s public, most folks don’t like that.”

He lifted his hands. “No problem. My phone’s in my pocket.” He took a sip and gave her an approving nod. “That’s solid. You don’t skimp on the heat.”

She wiped the counter and gave a half smile without looking up.

“You’d look good on camera,” he murmured.

“I appreciate that,” she replied.

He looked her over again, slow but not creepy, like he was cataloging something interesting. “Whole picture’s working, if I’m being honest.”

She let out a quiet laugh. “You might want to slow down.”

“I’m just making observations.”

The door opened again, and Jarod strolled in with his sunglasses hooked in the collar of his T-shirt, his sleeves pushed up, a faint sunburn across his nose.

He walked with ease, wearing what looked like new boots.

He stepped up beside Steve and leaned against the bar, casually, like he owned a stake in it.

“What’s going on?” he asked, not taking his eyes off Amka.

“Nothing,” she said, reaching for the rag again. Did he know she’d spent the night at May’s? Why would he?

“I’m Steve,” the other man said, holding out his hand.

“Jarod.” He shook it, firm and fast. “Are you here for the fishing derby?”

Steve shook his head. “No. I’m working on the jerky contest and am trying to talk to folks who actually live here. It’s one of the requirements for each small town we hit. I just asked the pretty bartender if she’d be up for a quick interview.”

Jarod glanced at her. “Don’t tell me. She said no?”

“Yup, but I haven’t poured on the charm yet,” Steve said.

Amka chuckled. The man had charm, that was for sure. But who made a living chasing contests around the world by making social media videos? Of course, maybe most people wanted to travel. She’d always liked it right here in Knife’s Edge.

Jarod snorted. “Amka is no fun, but I am. How about you interview me? I’m a local.”

Steve turned toward him. “That would be fantastic.” He glanced back at Amka. “But I’m sure you’re wrong about her. She’s too pretty to be boring.”

Now Amka had to roll her eyes.

“She’s pretty and she knows it.” Jarod shifted his stance and looked at Steve. “However, since we’re friends now, I’d like to take you out to where I’ll be building the next motel and maybe get some early interest in the place.”

Steve straightened. “So long as I get the interview, finally, I’ll go anywhere you want.”

“Excellent. Give me a few minutes.” Jarod clapped him on the back and moved on, scanning his phone as he walked down the bar.

Amka took the coffee pot and made a slow pass through the room, topping off mugs, clearing a plate, wiping down a small ring of syrup left on one table. She returned to the bar as Steve set his glass down. “Hey, could I get a water?”

“Sure.” She filled a clean glass from the tap and passed it to him.

“Thanks.” He drank half of it without stopping and plunked it back on the bar.

The door opened. She looked over, and warmth hit her straight in the chest. Dutch came in first, boots solid on the floor, coat open, his limp heavier than last time. Christian walked in behind him, taller, quieter, his gaze scanning the entire tavern and then returning to her.

Delight tickled through her. “Dutch,” she said, already coming out from behind the bar.

His grin revealed the gap in his teeth. “There’s the prettiest girl in the wilderness.”

She hugged him hard, arms around his wide frame, careful of his bad leg. “I didn’t know you were coming to town.” She stepped back and motioned toward the bar. “Come on up. We’ve still got some of the egg casserole left.”

“I’ll take it.” Dutch followed her to the bar. “And a seat.” He eased himself onto the stool next to Steve, set his hat down, and stretched out his leg with a quiet grunt. “Oh, and a Bloody Mary wouldn’t hurt. I’m off duty.”

Steve leaned forward, grinning. “Hey, pretty lady. How do I get a hug like that?”

The air cooled. Not the room. Not the temperature. Just the mood.

Steve glanced to his right and then took a small sip of water.

Amka followed his look. Christian stood just inside the door, not moving.

His face gave nothing away, not even a twitch.

Her heartbeat increased, fluttering against her ribs for some reason that didn’t make any sense.

The guy had…presence. She held his green and black gaze for a second and then started making the drink for Dutch.

“Dutch’ll want the back table,” Christian said, giving Steve a look that didn’t linger but still carried weight.

He turned, nodding once to Dutch, who slid rather gracefully off the stool.

The two made their way to the back, and the slow, even sound of their boots crossing the floor was the only noise for several seconds.

Steve leaned slightly across the bar, voice dropping to a whisper. “Hey. That’s the guy from the fire and the video, right?”

Amka gave a small nod. “I heard about that but haven’t seen it.” She hadn’t had time to scroll through social media yet.

“Oh, man. You need to.” Steve pulled out his phone, thumbs moving fast until he found what he wanted. “That damn Nixi got it. She’s always in the right place at the right time. The chick is a witch, I’m telling you. Here.”

The video opened in full screen. Fire licked at the walls of a wooden structure already collapsing in the back. Smoke curled past the lens like a living thing. For a second, it was chaos—no clear subject, just burning timber and motion.

Then Christian came through the flames.

He moved fast, shoulders squared, arms locked tight around the person he carried.

Her. Amka didn’t breathe as she watched.

Her head had been tucked against his chest, arms folded tight, legs swinging as he stepped over debris and smoke.

Her flannel was scorched on one side. His T-shirt was covered in soot, catching sparks, his expression hard and locked in place.

An epic swell of music rose under the footage, edited in, clearly, but timed perfectly to the moment Christian cleared the threshold.

“That’s you,” Steve said, looking up, his eyes widening. “I mean, you can’t see your face, but it’s you. And that’s him.”

Amka didn’t respond at first. The video looped again, showing the same heroic scene. “He would not like that video of him out there.”

Steve shook his head. “Yeah, that’s too bad. This guy’s a hero, and you wouldn’t believe some of the comments. I think there are at least three hundred, if not more, marriage proposals.”

Amka wrinkled her nose. Christian really wouldn’t like that. At least Nixi hadn’t included his name. “This will die down, right?”

Steve nodded. “Sure, but it also might bring a cache of available young women, or men, straight to your town. This is video gold.” He frowned, flicking the volume down.

“I wish I’d caught that. I was across the road and didn’t even think to pull out my phone until it was over.

Nixi could get millions of views on this. ”

Amka hoped Nixi didn’t post their names.

Steve cleared his throat. “Are you sure I can’t interview you? I’d love to ask you about that moment.”

“Not a chance.” She looked toward the back of the bar. “I wouldn’t ask him, either.”

Steve chuckled and leaned back in his seat. “Oh, I got that. I got more than that from him.” He tapped the phone screen to pause the video.

She cocked her head. “I don’t know what that means.”

Steve tapped his fingers on his phone. “Seriously? That vibe? It was touch-her-and-die vibe. Are you his?”

The archaic language zinged through her faster than a shot of bourbon, sizzling sharp. “What? No. Of course not.”

“Huh. I’m usually on track better.” Steve shrugged. “Guess I misread him.”

Jarod came up the back of the bar to the till, his voice already too loud for the quiet between breakfast and lunch. “I’ve already reserved the diner for our reception,” he said, grinning. “And we need to talk about construction for the motel when I get back.”

Amka moved toward him, wiping down the mahogany as she walked. The guy had lost his mind. “Why’s that?”

“Because we’ll probably need to mortgage this place to help pay for it.”

She started sorting through a few receipts left from the early morning tabs. “That’s not going to happen, Jarod.”

He stepped closer, his voice dipping. “The fuck it isn’t. I need money. I’m flying to Anchorage later today to meet with the contractors. Our future is tied together, and we might need to use the equity here for part of the motel.”

Her hand stilled on the edge of the register. “You have the insurance from when the motel burned down.”

“Yeah.” He leaned on the bar. “I need more. We’re going to do it right this time. I don’t want some hole-in-the-wall motel. This is going to be high-end, and we’re going to get more tourists here than ever before.”

She opened the drawer and started pulling change for a half-paid ticket someone had left. “I don’t think the town wants that.”

He slapped the drawer shut with the heel of his hand. She yanked her fingers free just in time.

“Too bad. That’s the plan.” He grabbed her arm.

“Let go of me, or I swear to God, I’m going to kick your balls out.” She didn’t flinch or raise her voice, but she was done. Just done with him.

She also felt the shift. Across the tavern, Christian looked up. At them. She didn’t need to see it to know it was happening. The air changed.

Jarod lowered his head. “That asshole’s way too interested in you.”

“You might want to let go of my arm,” she said.

He did. After a beat. Then he reached past her, popped the drawer back open, and glanced inside. “There should be enough for a plane ticket here.” He took what he needed, counted it without apology, and stuffed the bills into his coat. “I’m not stealing. I’m investing in our future.”

Amka stared at the bar, at the smudges left behind from the breakfast rush. “It’s a good thing you have that video secured in case you die,” she whispered tersely, meaning every word.

He didn’t appear scared. “It’s too late for you to get tough.” Then he leaned in to kiss her.

She reacted without thought, putting both hands on his chest and shoving. Hard.

He fell back a step.

Everyone in the tavern—at the tables, at the bar—paused and stared.

Jarod forced a smile. “Man, you’re in a mood.

All right. We’ll have fish and not chicken at the reception.

” He rolled his eyes and looked at Steve.

“My chick is turning into a bridezilla, right? Let’s go.

” He stepped away and walked around the bar, shoving the door open with more force than was necessary.

Steve gulped, frowned, and put a ten on the bar. “Thank you.” He spun off the stool and followed Jarod, glancing back once before disappearing into the spring day.

Amka took the money and put it into the till, ignoring all of the questioning expressions on the familiar faces around her. What in the world had she just done?