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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 (#ulink_30cc171a-bd5d-50cd-8608-7ad8d99778d0)
“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.
Hannah sighed. It was painfully obvious that she had a weakness for restless risk takers. Steven had been a lot like Collin, with the same devil-may-care attitude and hidden demons. And she found Jake Hollister dangerously attractive as well, a response she was determined to squelch. Not that it mattered; he’d made it clear he wasn’t interested in the things that mattered to her. Insultingly clear. And she was reasonably sure she hadn’t revealed any sign of her attraction to him to justify a warning.
“I think we should try avocado ice cream,” Gwen said eagerly. “I saw a recipe in a women’s magazine while I was at the dentist’s office.”
Hannah resisted making a face. She liked trying new foods, but the people who lived in Mahalaton Lake were conservative in their tastes, and their summer visitors seemed to feel the same way. “I don’t know if anyone is ready for something that different. Remember the garlic ice cream last year?”
“Oh. Right.” Gwen looked crestfallen. She’d gone to California on vacation with her family and tasted garlic ice cream at the Gilroy Garlic Festival. Inspired, she’d made a gallon for the social, only to throw most of it out. It was one thing to sample garlic ice cream at a garlic festival, another to see it miles from the nearest garlic field. “Maybe I’ll bring something else. Are you making your usual?”
“Yup. Two gallons of wild huckleberry.” Every summer Hannah picked huckleberries in August and September, making jam with some and stowing the rest in the freezer to use throughout the next year, including for the June ice cream social.
“Everybody loves huckleberry.”
“Make strawberry ice cream. Everybody loves that, too,” Hannah suggested.
“But it’s so ordinary.” Gwen had moved to Mahalaton Lake five years ago when her husband, Randy, had been hired as their head of emergency services. Though a born New Yorker, she loved the town; she just got frustrated with the limited culinary tastes of most of the residents.
“Strawberry isn’t ordinary, it’s traditional,” Hannah said firmly, writing strawberry next to Gwen’s name on the ice cream sign-up sheet.
“I don’t know. What if I try anise and—”
“How about pineapple sorbet?” Hannah suggested hastily.
“That sounds good,” Gwen said, brightening.
“Besides, I just remembered that Luigi is donating a gallon of his homemade strawberry gelato.”
“Okay. I can’t compete with his gelato anyway.”
Hannah crossed out strawberry under Gwen’s name and wrote in pineapple sorbet.
She got up and refilled their coffee cups. They were meeting at her place, partly because there wasn’t a single unoccupied surface in Gwen’s home. Her husband always said that his wife had many fine qualities, but housekeeping wasn’t one of them. The planning committee would meet again the next morning, so Hannah and Gwen were putting the final proposal together to save time.
“Thanks.” Gwen poured cream in her coffee.
Hannah glanced out the window and saw Danny talking to Jake Hollister. Her mouth tightened. Before Jake had even arrived in Mahalaton Lake, Danny had heard a lot about the adventuring photographer—not from her, but from his friends and even her own parents. She didn’t want her son developing hero worship for someone with his itchy feet.
“Is that the guy?” Gwen asked, leaning forward and peering out, as well.
They were sitting in the living room of the guesthouse, and the picture windows on both outside walls gave a sweeping view of Huckleberry Lodge and the lake beyond. Danny was chattering away with his usual exuberance, arms flying as he gestured wildly, while Jake leaned on the stair railing, holding a paper bag in his hand and occasionally nodding. Unless you were close enough to see the lines of pain carved around his eyes, you’d never guess he’d recently been in the hospital.
“Yup, Jake Hollister in the flesh.”
“Mmm. Nice flesh, too. I wouldn’t throw him out of bed for getting crumbs on the sheets.”
“Does Randy do that?”
Gwen laughed. “Not since I nagged him out of the habit. Honestly, why do men feel the need to eat popcorn in bed?”
“Got me.” Hannah hadn’t been married long enough to have come to many conclusions about men, other than she didn’t want to be married to the wrong one again. Her son was the only positive thing to come out of her marriage.
