Love In Alaska (The Love In 50 States Series Book 2) by Shelby Gates Page A

a quick trip to do some sightseeing,” I said instead.
    Which was true. I hadn't seen much of Alabama other than the airport in Mobile and the beach on the north end of the Gulf. It hadn't been a bad visit, but I hadn't done much else and I was sort of regretting that. After a night with a guy named Adam, I'd felt discombobulated. Casual sex had never been part of my make up and I realized that I needed to get my head right with it. I hadn't necessarily sulked but I'd spent the remainder of my time in Alabama alone. Days on the beach, nights either ordering room service from the hotel restaurant or venturing out for take-out. I caught up on movies and bad television and spent more time thinking about the forty-nine weeks ahead of me than about the plot lines of the shows I was watching. By the time my week in Alabama was drawing to a close, I'd made peace with my mission and I'd made peace with what had happened with Adam. Casual hook-ups were going to be a learned skill, just as my reaction to them would be, too. And I couldn't let those feelings get in the way of the other huge component of my mission: traveling to every state and enjoying my time there. 
    Now that I was minutes away from Alaskan soil, I was determined to do more than just hunt for some guy. I was going to explore and experience as much as I could.
    “Sightseeing, huh?” the man said, cocking his head. “Better get out of Anchorage, then.”
    My eyes were half-trained on the window and the ground rushed toward us as we continued our rapid descent. “What?”
    “Get out of Anchorage,” he repeated. “If you really want to see Alaska, make sure you see something besides Anchorage.”
    “You don't like Anchorage?”
    “I love Anchorage,” he answered. “It's my home. But after you get past the mountains and the water, it's not a whole lot different than other cities.” He waved a hand in the air. “You need to get out. Get up to Denali. Get out on the water. Visit the backcountry. There's so much to see here. You can find pilots to take you out and about for fairly cheap.”
    I listened. I'd intended to use some of my time in each state to research things to do in the next one. But I'd been too busy in Alabama, assessing and contemplating, to do much more than confirm my flight and book a hotel room for when I arrived in Anchorage.
    “Don't use the tourist outfits,” he warned. “They'll charge you three times what you should pay.” He smiled again. “And make sure you bundle up.”
    I nodded, mentally filing away his recommendations. I opened my mouth to speak but the plane's wheels bounced on the runway and I instinctively reached for the arm rest, bracing myself as the pilot hit the brakes. I wasn't a seasoned flyer and takeoffs and landings still took me by surprise.
    The pilot eased off the brake and the plane lumbered toward the terminal. I loosened my grip on the arm rest. “Thank you,” I said, genuinely grateful for his advice. “For the help.”
    He stared at me for a moment, his gaze shrewd behind his glasses. “And take care of yourself.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “The male to female ratio up here is higher than just about everywhere else,” he replied. He reached into the seat back pocket and pulled out a fishing magazine. “Not ridiculous like they'd have you believe back on the mainland, but there are more men than women. It's a traditional culture, very masculine.”
    He saw something in my expression because he quickly added, “Don't get me wrong. Not dangerous.” He paused. “But you might be well-served to stay out of the bars if you're here alone. You're pretty and you're sunburned--don't take this the wrong way, but people will know you're visiting and might try to take advantage of you.”
    I looked out the window again. The sky was more pink than blue, the sun moments away from being just a memory. The mountains were just as stunning from the ground as they had been from the sky. I thought about my travel