Julianna Morris - Jake's Biggest Risk

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 .”