Match Made In Paradise by Barbara Dunlop (black female authors TXT) 📕

“I’m not going to make a pass at you.”

“I never—”

“I’m not even going to flirt with you.” He realized how egotistical that sounded, like she’d be angling to have a guy like him flirt with a woman like her. Not in his dreams.

“Can we stop this?” she asked.

“Sure.” It sure wasn’t his finest moment. “I’ll put your stuff in my truck, and we can get going.”

“Hey, Silas?” Xavier called from outside.

Silas moved to the open door so Xavier could see him. “Yeah?”

“Navajo’s tied down. I’m going to see if Cobra needs any help.”

“Sounds good. You on deck for the Viking Mines fuel haul at six?”

“I’m taking Zeke along as a swamper.”

“That’ll work. Thanks.”

“Catch you later.” Xavier gave a wave as he headed for the hangar.

Silas gestured to the door, waiting for Mia to go first.

She squared her shoulders and brushed past him.

“Take a left,” he told her as he came outside and lifted the suitcases. “The blue extended cab beside the picnic table. You’ll want to give the fuel barrels a wide berth.”

She gazed suspiciously at the parking lot. “Why?”

“The ground’s soft on that side. Your boots will get muddy.”

She blinked at him for a moment. “Oh. Thanks.” She started walking.

He fell into step. “Surprised that I’d warn you?”

“No.”

“You sounded surprised.”

“It seems out of character.”

Well, that was a bold statement. “You already think you know my character?”

She cast a pointed look his way. “You already think you know mine.”

He’d give her that one. But the difference between them was, he was pretty sure he did.

*   *   *

Mia wasn’t about to cower under Silas’s mocking and misjudgment. She’d been through worse. In fact, she’d been through worse in the past week. She’d been mocked and misjudged by the entire Lafayette Fashion company, most of the fashion industry and what felt like every social media user in Southern California. Silas might be a badass Alaskan bush pilot, but where it came to disdain, he had nothing on the internet trolls.

They zipped along a well-worn gravel road, dodging most potholes, hitting others so that her chest jerked against her seatbelt. The thick forest encroached on both sides, a bent branch occasionally brushing the side of the truck. They were the only traffic. They didn’t pass a single vehicle coming the other way.

If not for Raven telling her to get in the truck with Silas, this situation would have had Mia on high alert. She was alone—it felt like alone in the world—with a scowling, silent man who clearly didn’t like her much and looked like he could break a tree trunk with his bare hands.

He took a sudden and unexpected right turn onto a rutted dirt road. Their speed slowed, but that didn’t stop them from bouncing over a crisscrossed mesh of tree roots from the tall cedars on either side with overhead branches that gave a horror flick–like gloom to the air.

Then they rounded a bend and came to a house—a shack, really, dilapidated and deserted-looking with a sagging porch and a moss-covered roof. Mia’s danger meter spiked even higher. For a crazy second, she thought about jumping from the truck.

She glanced Silas’s way, gauging her chances of success at escaping on foot. But he looked strong and incredibly fit. Her chances of outrunning him were obviously slim.

He rocked the truck to a stop and shifted it into park.

She stilled, her hands curling into fists against the worn fabric on the bench seat as she waited to see what he was going to do.

She’d have given anything for the can of mace she normally carried in her purse, but it was prohibited on the plane to Anchorage. So, she’d left it at home, thinking she was unlikely to get mugged in a small Alaska town. That might have been a mistake.

Her brain began clicking through scenarios as her mounting unease edged its way toward panic. Forget being mugged; what about being assaulted and murdered, her body dumped deep in the Alaskan bush where nobody would ever find it? She supposed Theresa and the twins would be relieved to be rid of her, not to mention most of greater LA.

“I’ll put your stuff away,” he said, exiting the truck and leaving the door standing open.

He hoisted her suitcases from the box of the truck and started for the shack. As he walked away with her belongings, the isolation closed in tighter than ever.

The keys still dangled in the ignition.

This was it, her chance to escape—maybe her only chance to escape. Her pulse sounded in her ears, all of her instincts telling her to flee. In a situation like this, a woman had to trust her instincts. All the psychologists said so.

She quietly unbuckled her seatbelt and slid across the bench seat. As Silas stepped onto the porch, she quietly shut the driver’s door and eased the truck in reverse. She had to give up the element of stealth then, so with her heart beating against her chest and entire body tense, she cranked the wheel and stepped on the gas.

He turned at the sound, gaping at her in complete astonishment.

His lips moved, but she couldn’t hear what he said. It was probably just as well.

She hit the brake, but she wasn’t fast enough. The rear bumper crunched against a tree.

He dropped the suitcases and sprinted for the truck.

She fumbled with the shifter, putting it back into drive and stepping on the gas. The tires spun, and Silas wrenched open the driver’s door.

“What in the hell!” He hopped up on the running boards and grabbed the steering wheel.

Kicking herself for being stupid enough to leave the door unlocked, she battered his hand.

“What is wrong with you?” he demanded, unceremoniously shoving her across the seat.

The engine speed died and the truck rocked to still on the uneven ground.

She backed herself up against the passenger door, frantically looking for something to use as a weapon.

He stared at her, breathing hard.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” she said.

“What?” he roared, a flush of anger coloring his face.

She wrapped