Page 4 of Weathering The Storm

“…but her Subaru’s roomy in the back. It’s gonna be a long month for both of us. Can you blame me?”

“A longer month for you than her, I’m sure.” Jorgensen snickers.

My eyes accidentally find their way back to Seth’s, my breath stalling as his smile lines appear once more.

Yeah. It’s gonna be areallylong month.

“What about you, Cap’?” Seth elbows me. “How was your break?”

“Uneventful.”

I’m not trying to throw him off my case. I genuinely didn’t do anything interesting. I read a few books, invented a few projects around the cabin. And whenever I started missing the water too much, I’d take my twenty-eight-footer out for the weekend or pull on my waders and go fishing.

“Spend a lot of time with Amber?” he prods.

“On and off.”

There’s a careful balance when it comes to Amber. If I tell him I spent all break with her, he’ll pry into our relationship. If I tell him I didn’t see her at all, he’ll wonder what went wrong.

I can’t have either of those things happening. Because Amber’s not real.

“Jesus Christ.” Seth sighs. “You’re terrible at this.”

“I don’t know what you want from me here.”

“Anything. You’ve been seeing this woman for two years, Lundvall. Are we ever gonna meet her?”

Perry purses his lips, jiving with Seth’s point. We’ve all met his wife, Erin, and Orlov’s girlfriend, Anna, after all. At the end of every season, I set aside a dinner party’s portion of our haul and invite the guys and their families over to thank them for their hard work.

I clear my throat. “Probably not. It isn’t serious. We’re not exclusive or anything.”

Seth doesn’t look convinced. “She’s the only woman I’ve ever heard you talk about. That seems pretty serious to me.”

“I’m off the grid as much as you are.” Ridiculous. I soundridiculousdefending my imaginary fuck-buddy. “There’s not much to say. Just some casual stress relief during the off-season. I don’t seeyouvolunteering any details about your sex life.”

And please don’t start now. I might keel over if I have to hear about the merry adventures of your dick.

“Maybe that’s why I’m trying to live vicariously through you guys.”

It’s the second-worst thing he could’ve said. The only thing worse than thinking about Seth having sex is thinking about Sethnothaving as much sex as he wants. Seth being pent-up. Touch-starved. Horny.

“Keeping three under-five-year-olds entertained all daycertainly didn’t put me in the mood to pick up a tourist, and Seward’s not exactly known for its vibrant dating scene,” he says.

I give a good-natured chuckle, but yeah. I knowthatfeeling particularly well.

“Gotta make a trip into Anchorage,” Jorgensen supplies.

“It’s a much bigger city,” I agree numbly. Already rabidly jealous of every woman in Anchorage who will someday meet Seth andfind out what it’s like to go home with him. “Anyway. Where’s Orlov?”

“Here,” comes a low, thick Russian accent. So quiet, you’d hardly believe it belongs to a six-foot-five tank of a man. Pyotr Orlov doesn’t smile when he comes over to shake my hand—because he never does—but this past year of working with him has taught me the difference between his happy straight face and his irritated one. “Just finished line checks. Was waiting for them to be done talking.”

Me too, Pyotr. Me too.

“One of these days, we’ll get you to join in,” Perry says.

“Okay,” Orlov says.

It’s the same way he says “okay” whenever I tell him to do something, but in this case, he means “absolutely not”.