Jillian Hart - Klondike Hero

“Or maybe they are too desperate for marriage to care about my disposition.” A hint of humor warmed his words.

“I suppose that’s what you think I am. Desperate. An opportunist looking for a man.” She spotted her purse on the vanity table behind the sofa and circled around to fetch it. “You think that I heard there were available bachelors and I couldn’t get here fast enough to catch one of them.”

“That’s how it looks.” He moved toward her to stop her from grabbing her purse. “Someone only out for herself and her own gain wouldn’t have waited on Gran, taken care of Matthew, put both of them to bed and then cleaned up the kitchen. And all done with a smile on your face.”

“I like to help people.” She figured there was a lot more she could tell him. How she’d disappointed her upwardly mobile parents, who were a tad on the ruthless side, by choosing to take care of babies instead of pursuing a white-collar profession, which they thought was the only acceptable pathway. How her mother had told her after reading Alan’s letter, “I’m so ashamed of you, Karenna.”

No, best to keep those things to herself. “I figured I owed you, seeing as how you could have left me with Myron and his bear, even if I wasn’t welcome.”

“That dog does look like a bear—and acts like one, too. I couldn’t do that, even to you.” Was that a smile in his voice?

Maybe just a little one, she decided, realizing she was smiling, too. “I hate to impose, but could I borrow a blanket and a pillow?”

“What for?”

“To make my front seat a little more comfortable. I had to buy the fun car instead of being sensible and getting a sedan with a backseat.” She rolled her eyes. “What was I thinking?”

“That you wouldn’t be stuck on a country road in Alaska overnight?”

“Right. I’m mostly a stay-close-to-home kind of girl. What I’m doing here, I have no real idea. Especially since I just figured out you can’t run from what’s hurting you.”

“It comes right along with you. Yep, I learned that the hard way, too.” He felt unusually close as he cleared his throat. “About the car. I think it’s a bad idea.”

“Because of bears?”

“Because it’s not right. I changed the sheets on the bed upstairs while you were in the kitchen. There’s fresh towels in the bathroom and a few of Gran’s things folded on the dresser. Have a good night.”

“But where will you sleep?”

“The couch will suit me fine.” He brushed passed her and reached for the remote. He flipped on the late-night news and hunkered down in a recliner to watch.

“Thank you, Gage.” She thought she felt him smile again as she padded up the stairs, but the mountain man was still too much of a mystery for her to be sure.

Karenna in the morning was a sight to behold. Gage nearly dropped the coffee pot when she strolled into the kitchen. Good thing the thermos was nearly full. He set the carafe back on the burner with an unsteady hand. Strange that he would react to her like that. He gave a single nod of recognition as she opened a cabinet and helped herself to a coffee cup.

“Good morning.” She appeared as if she meant it, for her too-big and impossibly blue eyes were sparkling. She looked as cute as could be, even with her golden hair damp from a shower, and she was wearing a pair of his old gray sweats. She looked like one of those cheerful morning people. “I hope you slept well? I kept worrying that you weren’t comfortable on the couch.”

“I noticed you were up several times during the night when Matthew cried.”

“I took his crib monitor from Jean’s room when she wasn’t looking. I figured she could use a full night’s sleep.” She sidled next to him at the counter and whisked the coffeepot off the burner. “Playing nanny for a bit was the least I could do in exchange for your hospitality.”

“That’s decent of you.” He twisted the cap on his thermos tight.

“Back at you.” She poured a cup of coffee. “You look as if you’re about to head out the door. Where do you work?”

“I’m a guide for a local tour company.”

“The one in the magazine?”

“Yes, and don’t give me that look.”

“What look?” She pulled the carton of milk out of the fridge and stirred a thin stream into her coffee.

“The one that promises all of Alaska’s Treasures tour guides are handsome, eligible bachelors. Obviously, they didn’t include me in the article.”

“Obviously.”

Sure, she was beautiful. She was cute and captivating, wholesome and charming. Now that she wasn’t in a wedding gown, he didn’t feel nearly as defensive around her. But that didn’t mean he intended to like her.

“If they had, then women like you wouldn’t be flocking into town—”

“Excuse me. Women like me?” She arched a brow at him. The look on her face said, no longer wholesome. She’d morphed into the tire kicker, the woman who’d been all steamed up when he’d first come across her, stranded in the dark. She arrowed the full force of her gaze at him. “What exactly does that mean?”

“Flighty women. Women looking for advantage and opportunity.”

“Oh, so now we’re back to me being an opportunist. Tell me, what opportunity am I looking for? What advantage?”

“Hard to say when you’re in a mood like that.” Uh-oh. He’d never had a way with the ladies, and this was a flash of what had gone wrong in his marriage. He would open his mouth very clear on his opinion of things, only to be outright misunderstood. Women. Not just a mystery to him, but to the entire universe. “Let’s just say you’re not the staying type.”

“Staying type? Oh, and men are?” She shut the refrigerator door and stalked across the floor to glare up at him. “I just got left at the altar. Hello? I wasn’t the one who ran off.”

“I didn’t know that.” This wasn’t going at all the way he wanted. Panic set in, along with the fervent wish he’d gotten out the door before she’d come into the kitchen. “When I got divorced, I never figured I would have another irate woman to deal with before breakfast.”

“Guess again, buddy.” She shook her head, scattering bouncy golden locks. “I can’t think of anyone who has ever gotten me so mad so fast. You have a gift, Gage.”

“I’ve got something.” A disaster record when it came to women. Good thing he was under no illusions that he ought to try marriage again. He and women just didn’t mix. Like oil and water. Like gasoline and flame. Like dynamite and a detonator. “I’ve got to get to work. Bucky ought to be here around ten. It was real nice meeting you.”

“You don’t sound as if you mean that.”

“I don’t. Good luck, Karenna.” That he meant.

He couldn’t help the tug in his chest as he grabbed his lunch pail, his egg sandwich from the counter and his thermos. He opened the back door—didn’t know why he took one last look at her.

Maybe he sort of liked her. She was spunky and perky and had been kind to Gran and Matthew. She looked out of place in the simple country kitchen, so beautiful she hurt his eyes.

He shut the door behind him, closing down his emotions. He had no business feeling anything for her. He strode down the porch and into the morning light.

What a cantankerous man. Karenna watched Gage’s SUV trail down the driveway, the taillights growing fainter until the thick stands of cedar and fir stole him from her sight. He was too young to be truly called cantankerous—that brought to mind someone at the end of his life, embittered and thoroughly disagreeable. It’s more like Gage had a grizzled personality.

That, and he didn’t think much of women. After putting cold water and fresh grounds into the coffeemaker, she carried her cup to the round table in the sunny breakfast nook. She was a Seattle girl, raised in the Green Lake neighborhood north of the University district, where leafy trees lined pleasant streets and a short walk took her to the small city park and lake. That was her idea of nature.