Page 56 of Finn

I laugh. “Oh, wow. No way.”

“Yep, it is.”

It’s kind of cool to see the place where the shot that we took probably too many of that one wild night that feels like forever ago was invented.

I notice there’s an open area on the side of the building where you can order shots.

Playfully bumping Finn with my hip, I say, “Hey, check it out. We could get one of those Duck Fart shots right here and now.”

“Do you want one?” he asks, one brow arching up.

I’m about to say, “Yeah, sure, why not?”

But then, when our eyes meet, it’s like every memory fromthatnight starts playing in my mind in vivid detail.

My heart rate picks up, and my body feels warm, even though it’s chilly out.

Again, just like this morning, but now here standing next to the Red Dog Saloon, I want Finn.

I want to feel his bare body pressed to mine.

I want his mouth to do wonderful things to me like I know he can.

And I definitely want his cock.

But this is surely not the time or the place.

And what in the hell am I thinking anyway?

Shaking my head adamantly, shattering the memories to mere fragments, I reply firmly, “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Finn searches my eyes, and I know he’s caught on.

Chuckling, he says, “Yeah, you’re probably right.” Cupping my elbow, he adds, “Let’s get going. I want to show you the glacier, and then we need to stop by my fish guy’s place and pick up that salmon before he shuts down for the day.”

Phew, crisis averted.

I let Finn guide me away and take me to the glacier.

It’s perfect, because if there’s one thing I need right now, much like this morning, it’s a good cooling down.

Finn

“No more salmon,” I announce as I walk into the kitchen carrying a big batch of king crab and snow crab legs. “Three nights in a row is enough.” I set the crab on the counter and turn to where Sammie is seated at the table, drinking a cup of coffee. “I know you love the salmon up here, and it is fantastic, I agree. We can have it again, for sure, but it’s time for you to expand your horizons and try some other great Alaskan catches.”

I’m not joking around. I truly think Sammie is becoming addicted to freshly caught salmon. Or maybe it’s just the way I grill it and top it off with a light glaze.

It is pretty tasty that way.

The first night I made it, after a day spent showing her the local sights, she went wild for it and insisted we have it the next night…and the one after.

That’s all fine and good, as I love salmon, too, but she’s missing out on some other great options.

Tonight, we’re going to remedy that.

“All right,” she says, eyeing the crab on the counter warily. “But some of the claws on those things look downright scary.”

I laugh. “That would be the king crab you’re referring to. They are big fuckers. But don’t worry. I assure you they’re all dead.”

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