Alaska Skies: Brides for Brothers / The Marriage Risk

“How about next week?” Christian asked. “I won’t return from my business trip until the end of the month, but I’ll arrange for my brother Sawyer to meet you in Fairbanks.”

“Next week?”

“Is that too soon?”

“No, no,” she said quickly, fearing he might change his mind. She could take the kids out of school a week early, and she wouldn’t need much time to pack their belongings. Her mother would help, and whatever they didn’t take with them on the plane—like their furniture—she could have shipped later.

“I’ll see you in Hard Luck, then.”

“Thank you. I can’t tell you how pleased I am,” she said. “Oh, before I hang up...” she began, thinking she should probably mention the fact that she’d be bringing Scott and Susan. Despite the provision of housing, there was nothing on the application asking about children or family.

“I’ll be with you in a minute, Allison,” Christian said.

“Excuse me?”

“My dinner date just arrived,” he told her. “As I explained, my brother will meet you in Fairbanks. I’ll have the travel agency call you to make the arrangements for your ticket.”

“You’re paying my airfare?”

“Of course. And don’t worry about packing for the winter. You can buy what you need once you arrive.”

“But—”

“I wish I had more time to answer your questions,” he said distractedly. “Sawyer’s really the one who can tell you what you need to know.”

“Mr. O’Halloran—”

“Good luck, Abbey.”

“Thank you.” She gave up trying. He’d learn about Scott and Susan when he returned. As far as she was concerned, the town was getting a great librarian—plus a bonus!

* * *

“You sure you don’t want me to fly in and meet the new librarian this afternoon?” John Henderson asked, straddling the chair across from Sawyer. His hair had been dampened and combed down, and it looked as if he was wearing a new shirt.

“Be my guest.” You’d think the Queen of England was flying in judging by the way folks in Hard Luck were behaving. Duke had arrived at Ben’s this morning clean-shaven and spiffed up, smelling pungently of aftershave. Sawyer hid a grin. The next woman would follow in a few days, and he wondered how long it would take for everyone to get tired of these welcoming parties.

“You’ll let John pick up the new librarian over my dead body,” Duke barked. “We all know what happened the last time he flew a woman into Hard Luck.”

“I keep telling you that wasn’t my fault.”

“Forget it! I’ll pick her up.” Sawyer looked away from his squabbling pilots in disgust and happened to notice the blackboard where Ben wrote out the daily lunch and dinner specials.

“Beef Wellington?” he asked.

“You got a problem with Beef Wellington?” Ben muttered belligerently. “I’m just trying to show our new librarian that we’re a civilized bunch.”

In Sawyer’s opinion, this whole project didn’t show a lot of promise. He’d bet none of these women would last the winter. The bad feeling he’d experienced when they first discussed the idea had returned tenfold.

“You talk to that Seattle paper yet?” Ben asked, setting a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of him.

“No.” Sawyer frowned. The press was becoming a problem. It wasn’t surprising that the media had gotten hold of the situation and wanted to do stories on it. They’d been hounding Sawyer for interviews all week—thanks to Christian, who’d given out his name. He was damn near ready to throttle his younger brother. And he was sorely tempted to have the phone disconnected; if it wasn’t vital for business, he swore he would’ve done it already.

Now that the first woman was actually arriving, Sawyer regretted not discussing The Plan with their oldest brother. Although Charles was a full partner in the flight service, he was employed as a surveyor for Alaska Oil and was often away from Hard Luck for weeks on end. Like right now.

When he did get home, Charles would probably think they’d all lost their minds. Sawyer wouldn’t blame him, either.

“Well, the cabin’s ready, anyway,” Duke said with satisfaction.

After they’d scrubbed down the walls and floors, Sawyer and a few of the men had opened up the storeroom in the lodge and dug out some of the old furniture. Sawyer had expressed doubts about sleeping on mattresses that had been tucked away for so many years, but Pearl and various other women—including several who were wives of pipeline maintenance workers—had aired everything out. They’d assured him that aside from some lingering mustiness, there was nothing to worry about. Everything had been well wrapped in plastic.

As much as Sawyer hated to admit it, the cabin looked almost inviting. The black potbellied stove gleamed from repeated scrubbing. The women had sewn floral curtains for the one window and a matching tablecloth for the rough wooden table. The townspeople had stacked the shelves with groceries, and someone had even donated a cooler to keep perishables fresh for a few days. The single bed, made up with sun-dried linens and one thin blanket, did resemble something one might find in a prison, but Sawyer didn’t say so. Pearl and her friends had worked hard to make the cabin as welcoming as possible.

When he’d stopped there on his way to Ben’s for breakfast, he saw that someone had placed a Mason jar of freshly cut wildflowers on the table. Right beside the kerosene lantern and the can opener.

Well, this was as good as it got.

“How are you going to know it’s her when she steps off the plane?” Ben asked, standing directly in front of him and watching him eat.

“I’m wearing my Midnight Sons jacket,” Sawyer answered. “I’ll let her figure it out.”

“What’s her name again?”

“Abbey Sutherland.”

“I bet she’s pretty,” Duke muttered.

His pilots gazed sightlessly into the distance, longing written on their faces. Sawyer wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes.

“I’m getting out of here before you three make me lose my breakfast.”

“You sure you don’t want me to ride along with you?” John asked hopefully.

“I’m sure.” Sawyer would also be bringing back the mail and a large order of canned goods for the grocery. He was flying the Baron, and he sincerely hoped Abbey Sutherland had packed light. He didn’t have room for more than two suitcases, and he intended to store those in the nose.

Grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair, Sawyer headed out the door and across Hard Luck’s main street toward the runway.

He could’ve flown into Fairbanks with his eyes closed, he’d made the flight so often. He landed, took care of loading up the mail and other freight, then—with a sense of dread—made his way to the terminal.

After checking the monitor to make sure the flight was coming in on time, Sawyer bought a coffee and ventured out to the assigned gate.

He was surprised by how busy the terminal was. Tourists, he guessed. Not that he was complaining. They brought a lot of money into the state. Not as much as oil did, of course, but they certainly represented a healthy part of the economy.

Even the airport was geared toward impressing tourists, he noted. The first thing many saw when they walked in was a massive mounted polar bear, rearing up on its hind legs. Although he’d seen it a hundred times, Sawyer still felt awed by it.

The plane arrived on schedule. Sipping coffee, Sawyer waited for the passengers to enter the terminal.

He glanced at each one, not knowing what to expect. Christian’s description of Abbey Sutherland sure left something to be desired. From what he remembered, Christian had said she was “regular” pretty.