Jake's Biggest Risk

“For your information, I just...that is, Hannah and I...we had a meal together,” he spluttered.

“Maybe I should come back another night.”

“Nonsense.” It was Hannah and she elbowed Brendan to one side. “Brendan is just leaving. I told him we were planning to watch a movie or something.”

It was nice of Hannah to make up an explanation like that. Barbi didn’t exactly mind people knowing she was studying for her GED, but she also didn’t want to look idiotic being taught kid’s stuff in front of Brendan that she should have learned fifteen years ago in high school. He was such a snot, he’d probably think it was hilarious.

Uneven footsteps sounded on the stairs below them and Hannah’s face got tense. “Is there something you need, Mr. Hollister?” she asked.

“I just need to know where the spare lightbulbs are. The lamp in the living room blew.”

Barbi turned around. It was the hunk she’d caught watching her earlier. Yum. Tall and trim, with hair so dark it was almost black, and intense brown eyes. Brendan might be sexy if he got serious help; this guy was pure heat without even trying.

“They’re in the utility room,” Hannah said in a tight voice. “I wanted to show you where everything is, but you refused a tour of the house. Remember?”

The hunk just shrugged.

“Hi, Mr. Hollister,” Danny chirped, jumping down to the first step. “How’re ya doing? Mommy said you didn’t feel so good.”

“I’m better today.”

Danny smiled. “Super.”

“Go on inside, Barbi. You, too, Danny,” Hannah urged. She gave Brendan a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for dinner. Maybe we can get together next week. Call me in a few days.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

He fixed his tie and checked the buttons on his coat before hurrying to his Lexus. Honestly, the guy was so stuffy and correct, Barbi didn’t know how he could get by without a book of etiquette in his back pocket and a yardstick up his ass. Hannah was way too nice for him, but there weren’t that many single men in Mahalaton Lake and she’d already been married to a louse. Brendan wasn’t a louse, just dull.

Barbi winked at the hunk, and as she went into the house, she could hear a low conversation between him and Hannah.

A minute later Hannah came in and closed the door. “Let’s get started,” she said. Her tone was light, but she sure looked flustered.

* * *

ON THE TUESDAY after Jake Hollister’s arrival, Hannah knocked on the door of Huckleberry Lodge. She’d agreed to do the cleaning every Tuesday and Friday at one o’clock during the summer. Once the school year started, the time would shift to late afternoon.

“You don’t have to knock,” Jake said by way of greeting as he opened the door.

“In polite society, knocking is considered appropriate.”

“I didn’t grow up in polite society. That is, I should say traditional ‘Western’ polite society. They haven’t always had doors in the places I’ve lived. Every culture has its customs about proper behavior—the trick is learning those customs.”

“Have you made any effort to learn them here?”

Jake seemed genuinely startled. “I don’t need to. I was born in Iceland, but I’m a U.S. citizen.”

“Citizenship doesn’t guarantee you know American customs. You don’t get that kind of knowledge through an umbilical cord.”

“I’m getting by just fine.”

“Whatever.”

Hannah bent over and picked up a stack of books piled haphazardly on the floor near the native stone fireplace in the living room. Her great-aunt and uncle had loved books, and they were in abundance around the lodge, especially the classics and nonfiction.

She put the books on the built-in shelves flanking the fireplace and went into the kitchen. Phew. There was a pizza box on the sandstone counter by the stove, one on the floor, another on the window seat behind the breakfast nook and a fourth was on the table. The sink and nearby surfaces were covered with dirty dishes and cups and wadded-up napkins. A jar of raspberry jam was tipped over on its side and red syrup dripped from it onto the floor. An empty jar of peanut butter sat nearby.

Jake limped past her. He dug a slice of pizza from the box on the table, liberally sprinkled it with crushed red pepper flakes and chomped down on the crust end.

“Uh, have you eaten anything except pizza and peanut butter since you got here?” She set the jam jar upright and wiped up the mess with a wet cloth.

“I don’t cook and Luigi’s only delivers pizza. And that’s only Friday through Sunday, as you’ve pointed out.”

“Ask for Luigi when you phone and sweet-talk him into sending one of his other dishes at the same time you sweet-talk him into delivering Monday through Thursday.”

“I don’t sweet-talk well.”

She widened her eyes in mock astonishment. “Really? That’s hard to imagine when you’re so charming and tactful.”

Jake snorted and ignored her sarcasm.

Wrinkling her nose, Hannah got a plastic garbage bag from under the sink and began collecting trash. Huckleberry Lodge was equipped with the latest in kitchen appliances, yet her tenant was eating delivery pizza and peanut butter. She was appalled at his diet, but it was his concern; he was an adult, capable of choosing his own food.

“There’s still half a pizza in here,” she said, picking up the box from the floor and putting in her bag.

“It’s old. Got it on Friday and wasn’t that hungry.”

“Then this one must be from Saturday,” she said, peering into the box from the window seat. There were several pieces in that one, as well. “There’s a refrigerator, you know. It’s that large, rectangular thing over there.” She pointed to the stainless steel commercial-grade refrigerator. “Amazingly, it keeps food at a safe temperature for future consumption.”

“Very amusing. But I have an iron stomach after the way I’ve lived. Besides, I don’t cook.”

“There’s also a stove, microwave and toaster oven—reheating doesn’t require any culinary ability.”

“Neither does ordering another pizza. Got two on Sunday and figured they’d last awhile. So don’t throw those away.” He gestured to the boxes on the table and countertop.

“Well, I guess it’s a break from PB&Js.”

“PB&Js?”

“Peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches. Seriously, how much time have you spent in the U.S. if you don’t know that?” Hannah swept dried crusts of bread and wadded-up paper towels into her sack of trash.

“Almost none,” Jake admitted. “I’m normally on assignment fifty weeks out of the year. And usually in remote areas. I have a small work studio in Costa Rica, but I’m hardly ever there, either.”

Lord. Hannah couldn’t imagine living like that, with no real home, just a suitcase, or whatever passed for a suitcase in his line of work. She glanced out the window at Mahala Lake, the water so blue it almost hurt her eyes. Except for the years she’d been at college, it was a sight she’d seen every day of her life, yet she never tired of it.

“Traveling can be fun, but I’m mostly a homebody,” she said, raising her chin and practically daring him to say something else that was rude. Jake had made his opinion about staying in one place quite well-known.

“Yeah, I figured that out. The domestic stuff is okay if that’s what you like, but home, marriage, kids—those things end my kind of career.”

Hannah stared. “That isn’t the first time you’ve mentioned something along those lines, and it’s starting to sound like a warning. I don’t need to be told to keep my distance. My ex-husband was a thrill seeker and I have no intention of making that mistake again. If I get married again, it’s going to be to someone stable and caring who can put me and my son first. It certainly won’t be to a man with one foot out the door and a habit of risking his neck.”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Jake protested. “It’s on my mind, that’s all. I talked to my former photography assistant this morning. We won’t be working together any longer because he’s getting married, and all he could talk about was the house they’re buying and his great new job. He may be better off on his own, but he already had a great job. With me.”

“You fired him because he’s getting married? Is being single a rule in the photography business?”

Jake sank down on one of the chairs, rubbing his left leg. “I didn’t fire him, but most spouses don’t appreciate being left alone for months at a time, and Toby’s fiancée is no exception. Vera must have given him an ultimatum after the accident and he caved under the pressure.”

Hannah began putting cups in the top rack of the dishwasher, thinking about the mixed emotions on Jake’s face when he’d mentioned Toby’s enthusiasm for his new job...emotions too complicated to fathom. One thing was quite clear, however—Jake Hollister didn’t understand people who wanted a home.

“Maybe your assistant didn’t ‘cave.’ Maybe he made a choice,” she offered finally.

Jake shook his head. “Toby liked the travel. He complains about stuff, but that’s just his way—he’s the one who suggested going to the Gobi Desert three years ago. For Pete’s sake, it’s not as if he was cheating on Vera, and they talked on the satellite phone almost every day.”

“A phone call is hardly the same as having someone with you. And if Toby loved the travel that much, he didn’t have to quit.”

“But he is quitting.”

She rolled her eyes at Jake’s sulky, little-boy tone.

“Well, your feelings about domesticity are hardly a secret,” she informed him. “Whenever a reporter or an interviewer asks about marriage, you declare you’re a confirmed bachelor.”

“You’ve read about me?”

“Don’t read anything into it. The rental agent for Huckleberry Lodge was excited about the idea of a celebrity living in the area. Lillian gave me copies of various articles and talked about you incessantly.”

“I’m not a celebrity.”

“You’re the closest thing to it in Mahalaton Lake.”

Hannah put detergent in the dishwasher and started it, uncomfortably aware of Jake watching her.

“Don’t you have work to do?” she asked finally.

“Nothing important. I’m on a forced hiatus except for the fluff book I’m doing on the Cascades.”

“Excuse me?” She turned and raised her eyebrows. “Fluff?”

“The Cascade Range has been done by half the nature photographers on the planet. It’s boring.”

Hannah’s temper began to simmer again. This was her home he was insulting.

“The Cascade Mountains are among the most beautiful places in the world,” she said crisply. “We have active volcanoes, varied animal life, gorgeous wildflowers...it’s a scenic wonderland.”

“But it’s also commonplace.” Jake made a dismissive gesture. “Nothing can compare to the sight of a polar bear in its natural habitat or the power of an Amur leopard climbing up a rock face with its prey.”

“Oh? Have you ever heard the cry of a loon across the water? It’s haunting. And how about the way dogwood blossoms seem to hang in midair, glowing in the low light of a forest? A place doesn’t have to be remote to be breathtaking.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it’s nice.”

Hannah could tell he wasn’t convinced, but she hadn’t expected to get through to him—he’d made up his mind and that was that. She took the bag of trash out to the cans behind the garage and headed back to find Jake sitting at the farmhouse table with a laptop computer in front of him.

Pressing her lips together, she continued putting the kitchen to rights. Removing the trash was a big improvement. It was even possible that the mess was more the result of him feeling lousy than of his truly being a slob; she’d find out over the next few months as his condition improved.

“By the way, where’s your son?” Jake asked after a few minutes.

“With my parents. They went down to Portland for the day and I didn’t think you wanted him here.”

* * *

SHE’D SENT DANNY to spend the day with her parents?

A twinge of guilt went through Jake. He wasn’t a kid person, but he usually got along okay with them. It was just that first day he’d instantly envisioned having Danny underfoot all the time and hadn’t wanted to encourage that. On the other hand, he hadn’t expected to be so bored.

“You can bring him next time,” he offered, surprising himself. “I don’t mind.”

“Can I get that in writing?” Hannah asked drily.

He grinned. Hannah Nolan wasn’t what he’d expected as a landlady, but that was a good thing. He didn’t need a comfortable motherly type, fussing over him and treating him like an invalid. Hannah would be more likely to kick him in the ass than fuss.

“Whatever you like. I’ll have my lawyer contact your lawyer, and we’ll do it right. If I had to guess, that guy who visited last week is a member of the bar. Conservative suit, no sense of humor, luxury car...what else could he be?”

She pressed her lips together and began wiping the sandstone countertops. Jake hadn’t intended to let the place get so messy, but it was easy to let things go when just getting from one side of the house to the other was a pain. Literally. Yet even as the thought formed, he grimaced. He didn’t like excuses; they stank worse than week-old fish.

“So is the guy you’re dating the sensitive, vulnerable man you’re looking for?” he asked.

“Brendan is a friend. And not that it’s any of your business, but I didn’t say I was looking for sensitive or vulnerable.”

“My mistake.”

Hannah tidied the sunroom before returning to the living room. He followed, to her obvious displeasure.

“I thought you were doing something on your computer.”

“I’ve never had a housekeeper before. I should see how you do things.”

She returned another stack of books to the bookcases by the fireplace. “I’m not your housekeeper. Our agreement specifies light cleaning twice a week, not to exceed two hours. You reminded me about the ‘light’ part when you arrived.”

“Sure. But don’t you think it’s mostly a question of semantics?”

“You don’t want to know what I think,” Hannah muttered.

Jake tried not to smile. It wasn’t nice of him to ruffle her feathers, but they were awfully fun to ruffle. He’d already stuck his foot into his mouth to the point she’d probably boot him out if she could get away with it. At least his lease gave him some protection.

Taking a dust mop from a closet, Hannah ran it over the hardwood floor and then dusted the flat surfaces. A citrus scent filled the air and he sniffed.

“What’s that?”

“Lemon oil. It’s good for the wood, but if you don’t like it, I’ll try to find something else.”

“It’s fine. Beats the smell of seal fat.”

“Seal fat?” Hannah shuddered. “Where is that used on floors?”

“I’m not sure about floors, but the Inupiat have uses for it, including burning it in lamps. The village where I stayed this spring is quite traditional, and still consumes seal and caribou meat as its major food sources.”

“I’m afraid seal is too exotic for me.”

“It is for most people.” He wrinkled his nose. “And to be honest, I prefer caribou. But seal isn’t bad, and I could name several other more unappetizing dishes I’ve eaten. I won’t go into the details.”

The corner of Hannah’s mouth twitched.

“On the other hand,” he said reflectively, “when you’re in an amazing place like Nepal or the Amazon basin, who cares what you’re eating?”

“Actually, a lot of people do.”

“They don’t know what they’re missing.”

“You obviously don’t know what you’re missing about the Cascade Mountain Range, either,” she returned promptly.

So that was still bothering her. Diplomacy wasn’t one of his strengths, but he was usually more tactful.

Hannah set to work again, stripping the bed and putting on fresh sheets. The bathroom and guest powder room were scrubbed with a ruthless efficiency, and Jake could tell that her primary goal was to get out of Huckleberry Lodge as quickly as possible. After dusting and straightening the library, she finished by mopping the kitchen and bundling up the linens.

“That’s all. I’ll do these over at my place.”

“Is there any way I could interest you in doing my personal laundry, as well?”

She smiled sweetly. “I’m afraid not. You have a top-of-the-line washing machine and dryer in the laundry room for that—I realize it probably doesn’t measure up to pounding clothes on rocks and rinsing them in a cold river, but it will have to do. I’ll see you on Friday.”

As the door closed behind her, Jake began to laugh.

* * *

HANNAH DUMPED JAKE Hollister’s sheets and towels on the floor of her laundry room and gave them a kick. Jackass. He’d baited her, but that wasn’t the problem. It was his attitude about the Cascades she found truly infuriating.

If he acted that way in other parts of the world, he’d probably start a war one day. Actually, she was surprised he hadn’t started one already.

Hadn’t anyone ever told him he shouldn’t insult someone’s home? It was akin to telling somebody their baby was ugly, or that they were an idiot for choosing to live in a certain place.

She loved Mahalaton Lake and having her parents a few miles away. It was great to know people on the street and be a part of their lives. She felt connected here. As a teenager she’d thought about leaving, but not any longer. Yet apparently Jake Hollister was always thinking about the next place he was going.

Hannah loaded the towels into the washer. It was a good thing she was getting so much for renting the lodge. When Lillian had told her what Jake had offered, it had seemed absurdly high, but it made more sense now. With his appalling manners, greasing the wheels with money was probably the only way he could survive.

At least she wouldn’t have to send Danny to her parents the next time she cleaned. It had hurt seeing the crushed expression on his face when he’d learned he wouldn’t be “helping” in the big house. In the way children could instantly form a liking for someone, he had decided Jake Hollister was a kindred spirit. Even Jake’s rudeness hadn’t changed how he felt.

Hannah put detergent in the washing machine and started it. Her parents would soon be back with Danny and she wanted to fix them a meal.

Determinedly putting obnoxious photographers out of her mind, she began chopping vegetables.

Two hours later the scent of garlic and other spices filled the air and she was in better sprits. The front door opened and she heard Danny call, “Hi, Mommy!”

“Hi. Did you have a good time?”

“The best! We went to the zoo and saw the polar bears, just like the ones Mr. Hollister takes pictures of.”

Her dad kissed her forehead. “Smells wonderful, sweetheart.”

“It’s Thai chicken. You and I will have to spice it up with chili garlic sauce since I made it mild for the wimps.”

“I heard that,” her mom called from the other room.

Hannah grinned.

“How was Mr. Hollister?” her father asked.

Her grin faded. “Fine, as far as I could tell. But he’s a slob. No wonder he wanted someone to clean house. What a mess—jam dripping onto the kitchen floor, things thrown about, Great-Aunt Elkie’s books all over the living room.”

Hannah’s mother hurried in, frowning. “Has he done any damage to the lodge or furnishings?”

“Not as far as I could tell. Honestly, though, I think the only things he’s eaten since getting here are Luigi’s pizza and peanut butter. Cold pizza, most of the time.”

“Pizza is yummy,” Danny said.

“I know, darling. But once a week is enough. That way it stays a treat. And we like it nice and hot, not cold and stale.”

“Uh-huh. Poor Mr. Hollister.”

Hannah nearly choked.

She did not feel sorry for Jake Hollister. He seemed to delight in annoying her and she’d be lucky to get through a month without him finding out how loudly she could shriek.

* * *

JAKE WAS FIXING a peanut-butter sandwich when an ambrosial smell invaded Huckleberry Lodge. He went into the sunroom and looked out the windows he’d left open. A blue SUV was parked in the driveway and he wondered if another boring suitor had arrived to court Hannah.

But it was the fragrance coming from the guesthouse that commanded most of his attention. He sniffed—lemongrass, coconut, garlic...it was as if he’d died and gone to heaven. Whatever Hannah was preparing reminded him of dishes he’d eaten in Southeast Asia and beat the hell out of another peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich.

PB&J, he reminded himself.

And he could well imagine what his stubborn landlady would say if he tried to wrangle an invitation to dinner. Something sharp and pithy, no doubt. Perhaps he shouldn’t have teased her so much—if her cooking tasted as good as it smelled, it would have been worth holding his tongue for a taste.

Paying for additional services—cooking and laundry and grocery shopping—was another possibility. If he’d thought of it earlier, he might be eating something more interesting than a sandwich for dinner.

Danny, the little boy, came out on the large deck of the guesthouse. He saw Jake and began waving.

Jake waved back halfheartedly, expecting the child to take it as an invitation and come barreling over to chatter his head off. Instead Danny settled down on a chair, head bent, looking at something, with his dog next to him.

Making a face, Jake closed the windows and returned to his sandwich. The bread was getting stale and he’d used the same knife to spread the peanut butter as he’d used on the pizza earlier, so everything tasted vaguely of pepperoni. As he’d told Hannah, he’d eaten much worse in the far-flung corners of the world, but then it had been spiced with exotic scenery and anticipation of the next great photo.

A year, he thought dismally.

That was how long the doctors had said it would take for him to recover and be able to work and travel the way he’d always worked and traveled. If he pushed himself too soon, he risked permanent disability.

Not that he had to stay in Mahalaton Lake the whole time, but it was the best way to photographically capture all four seasons for the book he’d agreed to do. So that meant a year of peanut butter and pizza and a feisty landlady with a small child. Hannah might be fun to tease and a treat to look at, but he’d rarely slept two months in the same bed, much less a year.

And since lovely Hannah was off-limits—obviously not being interested in brief liaisons—he had little to look forward to in that area, either...other than frustration and cold showers.

CHAPTER FOUR

“THAT SOUNDS GOOD,” Hannah said to Gwen Westfield as she scribbled notes on a pad.

They were planning the upcoming ice cream social fund-raiser for the Mahalaton Rescue Squad, one of several fund-raisers held annually for the squad. The local community enjoyed the events, but they were also geared to bring in tourist dollars. It seemed only appropriate, since a good number of the squad’s rescue calls were for visitors. Though not always.

Hannah shivered at the reminder of her high school boyfriend who’d pushed a climb too far—Collin had loved testing the limit in everything, and that time was his last. For months she’d woken up, unable to escape the horror of that day, hearing her own voice begging him not to go up that rock face alone, followed by her screams as he fell. Sometimes her heart still ached when she thought about how things might have turned out if Collin had lived.

He’d survived the fall, but only for a few hours, and all she could do was listen to him moaning and talking half-deliriously. Someone in the group had been carrying a satellite phone so they could call for help, but it had still taken too long for anyone to come. Back then they didn’t have a local team trained in mountain rescues, which was why supporting the rescue squad was so important to her. After all...Collin might still be alive if help had arrived sooner.