by Em Petrova
He took it. “Thank you.”
She bit her lip a moment, still smiling. “You don’t have a clue what to do with it, do you?”
He felt like laughing but didn’t so he wouldn’t risk hurting her feelings. “Not at all.”
“Haven’t you ever been sick?”
“No.”
She leaned in and spoke in a baby voice. Astounded, he realized she was talking to the plant. “Plants cheer people up, don’t they? You just give her a little water and sometimes a sprinkle of food. Lots of light. Isn’t that right?”
“Maybe you should take it home with you. I’ll kill it.”
“No, you won’t. You’re trained to take care of things.” She laughed—a little murmuring chuckle that raised the hairs on his nape and tightened his groin all at once. “I printed the feeding and watering instructions and taped them to the bottom of the pot.”
The woman was delusional if she thought he was trained to do anything but kick ass or put a bullet between a criminal’s eyes. She was also a cute crazy person who talked to plants.
He lifted the pot to see the small print. “What do I feed it? Does it eat steak?”
She laughed again. “No, but I figured you do.” She reached into the bag again and pulled out a meat tray wrapped in clear plastic that contained a ribeye.
His mouth watered and he was pretty sure he fell in love with her in the same moment.
And he realized that her gifts—and Jenna—really did cheer him up.
All the events of the past two days were blurring together.
And Jenna knew when the world seemed to spin out of control this way that she needed to calm things down and take time for herself.
Typically, she’d set off on a solo backpacking trip and communed with nature, but that didn’t seem very calming with a crazy on the loose. When she picked up the plant at the gift shop, she impulsively grabbed a spool of thick string. She pulled this from her coat pocket and set it on the small table.
Then she glanced toward the kitchen. “Wait—I told you not to clean up after me.”
“The smell of the burned pancakes was getting to me.”
Heat seeped into her cheeks, and she turned her attention to the string to avoid eye contact. She had no idea why she decided to come back for more of Harris’s obvious dislike of her. The pair of them would never find common ground, and Harris struggled to be civil. Several times, he’d lost his temper, such as when he accused her of ignoring her safety.
That resulted in him showing her how to escape duct tape bonds…which she had to admit was pretty hot.
But they’d never be friends.
“Do you want me to fry your steak for lunch?” she asked him.
“Sure. That sounds good.”
While he stumped over to the table and sat down, she located the cast iron skillet and set it on the burner. Aware of his gaze following her, she tried not to drop the can of lard.
“Why lard?” Harris asked. “Are the park rangers asking for heart attacks?”
She chuckled as she spooned a dollop into the pan. “It keeps for a long time, unlike butter or margarine. In a pinch, you could even eat it straight from the can for calories.” When she shot him a glance over her shoulder, she found him staring at her backside.
A gulp of surprise worked up her throat. Jenna wasn’t one of those hot girls who won all the guys. From a young age, she was the weird girl in school, and then the weird girl in college and in the supermarket where she worked between classes and in summers.
Only when she found her true home on the trails and in the national park did she stop thinking about how she didn’t fit in, and instead, how she did.
Her colleagues were her people, and the people she met on the trails her kin. But men like Harris Lipton didn’t look at women such as her.
Except he was.
She nearly scorched the lard and removed the pan from the burner to allow it to cool before adding the ribeye steak.
“Why didn’t you bring two steaks? Did you already eat?” he asked.
“Oh.” She half turned from the range. “I’m vegetarian.”
“Of course you are,” he muttered. “What are you going to eat?”
She shrugged. “I’ll grab something when I get home.” After adding salt and pepper to season the meat, she searched the pantry shelf, searching through canned goods left here by other rangers. Having Harris’s undivided attention unnerved her. She also found herself getting breathless by how good-looking he was.
He took up the entire wood chair, his big body stretched out and his casted leg extended. His hands rested on his muscled thighs that filled out his black cargo pants perfectly.
Fighting to keep her focus and not scorch the steak or the canned, sliced potatoes she dumped into the pan to brown, she turned her back to Harris. The silence felt loaded, electrically charged. She could only guess it was her barging in. Even bearing gifts, he didn’t want her here.
“Does your ankle hurt?” she asked to keep her mind occupied. She flipped the steak.
“No.”
“Would you like me to get you a cup of coffee?”
“No.”
Seeing that he wasn’t going to hold a conversation with her, she finished his meal and served it on a metal plate. When she set it before him, he stared at the food for a moment and then at her.
“There’s no steak sauce or ketchup for your potatoes. Sorry.”
He gave a light shake of his head. “You fix me a meal I never expected to eat today and you’re sorry there aren’t condiments?”
She blinked. Was he serious?
As he lifted knife and fork and tucked into the steak, she realized he was serious. She took the chair opposite him and drew the spool of string toward her.
He paused midbite to meet her gaze. “I feel bad you’re not eating.”
“I’m fine. I had a late lunch.”
“What does a vegetarian have for a late lunch?”
“Carrots and hummus.”
His dark brow winged upward a twitch. “How filling.”
She hid her smile by ducking her head and started to pull some of the thick cotton thread off the spool. While she worked it into a series of knots and loops, Harris watched her and ate.
“What are you making?”
“A plant hanger.”
“A what now?” Two potatoes speared on the fork disappeared into his mouth.
She tried not to think of how manly he looked while eating. “A plant hanger. For your new plant. It can hang near a window and get the most light. Here in Alaska, that’s important for plants.” She fashioned the first macrame row, and the hanger started to take shape and become something. She loved doing things with her hands, making something out of nothing.
The way Harris had with those carvings.
He finished his food and attempted to carry his empty plate and silverware to the sink plus use his crutches.
“I’ll get it.” She grabbed the plate from him. His silverware slipped off and hit the floor. She bent to retrieve it, realizing too late that her head was on the level with his crotch.
It bulged the front of his pants.
Quickly, she straightened, fought a rising flush of heat and hurried to the sink.
“I’ll wash up since you cooked.” His voice sounded rough…grating.
“Okay. I’ll just finish this and be out of your hair.”
At the mention of hair, his gaze shot to hers. Was it her imagination or did his eyes linger on the small braid she always wore?
Minutes later, she had the plant hanger fully formed, with a long loop of thread to hang from a hook on the ceiling or at a window. When she popped the little plant into the cording, she couldn’t resist beaming at Harris.
“It’s perfect!”
His chest gave a hard heave and he turned away from her. “It’s great. Hang it in the window if you can.”
Her stomach sank at his nonchalance at her gift, and she shook it off. He must be ti
red. Bored. Irritated to be locked up here while his team searched the park for more explosives. Last she saw, they had a canine crew and a handler with them.
She moved a chair over to the small window over the sink, located a nail put there by some other person, and hung the plant from it.
When she climbed down and stepped back to examine her skill, she saw that a few of the loops weren’t the same size as the others. She threw a glance over her shoulder, and she saw Harris sporting a strained expression.
“I learned how to macrame from a woman who lives near Winner Creek. She runs a zipline business there in summers for tourists, but she teaches homesteading classes too.”
“People need classes to learn how to homestead?”
“Mostly she gets city people who have no intention of going off the grid, but their money keeps her fed and under a roof. She teaches arts and crafts as well, and I took the macrame class.” Her words fell lamely between them.
Harris wasn’t interested in the things that sparked a love in her soul. They were very different people, coming from different walks of life.
“I’m going to head home now. I hope—” Her words were cut short by her walkie-talkie.
“Anybody within range? I could use backup. I’ve got a park visitor refusing to leave.” Paul’s voice projected to her, and he named a location.
Shooting a look at Harris, she pulled her radio off her belt and brought it to her mouth. “This is Moon Shadow. I’m at the cabin with Lieutenant Lipton. I’m close and on my way.”
She rushed to the door. “I’ve gotta go. Be sure to take care of yourself, Harris.” She hurried out and closed the door. It wasn’t until she had climbed behind the wheel of her truck that she realized she could no longer smell Harris’s masculine scent…and she missed it.
Chapter Five
Every single time Lipton saw that rope hanging in the kitchen, he thought of a better use for it.
Around a woman’s ankles.
Her wrists.
Binding her to a bedframe.
And he envisioned a pair of green eyes sparked with gold glowing up at him.
“Fuck!”
When she dropped the silverware and bent over to retrieve it, his cock had given a hard jerk behind his fly. Hell, he’d been half hard watching her backside twitch with every little movement she made while cooking.
The memory of her cranking open the can using an old-fashioned can opener, and her breasts jiggling, had his teeth grinding. She’d awakened his libido, and he had no damn clue why.
She wasn’t pretty in the conventional way of women from his past. Those women were long-limbed with manicured fingernails and hair that cost a lot to maintain in a salon.
Jenna “Moon Shadow” Underwood wore an ugly park ranger uniform, and the green pants made her resemble an elf. She didn’t eat meat, while he was the biggest carnivore on the Xtreme Ops team.
She also hummed while she worked. Did she even realize she’d been humming while knotting all those damn thin ropes together to create a plant hanger? For a plant that she brought him as a gift, for God’s sake?
And since she left the previous night to assist the other park ranger, he’d taken up his knife and a stick of wood and created several more carvings. He got to the end of one animal and chopped off his ear by accidentally removing too much wood at once. It left the wolf one-eared and appearing more comical than menacing.
He was about to toss it into the crackling fire, when there was a knock on the door. He started to call out for whoever it was to come in and reached for his crutches, and Jenna entered.
She backed inside, a bulky box in her arms. He opened his mouth to ask if she’d brought more plants, when she turned.
He got a good look at her bruised face.
Fury hit his system.
“Jesus Christ. What happened to you?” He stumped across the floor to reach her in seconds.
She ducked her head to avoid his stare and set the box on the floor between them. He noted the barrier she’d created, lifted a crutch and shoved the box of food out of his way.
He stepped up to her and raised a hand just short of touching her bruised cheekbone. “Who the hell beat you, Jenna?”
“It’s from that call last night. It took two of us to get this guy into our truck, but he got a few jabs in before we did.”
“Fuck. Has this happened before?” He didn’t like how she avoided looking at him. He dipped his head to catch hold of her gaze.
Relief swept him. Those green-gold depths appeared clear of fear, at least. She reached up to brush the dangling braid from her cheek, and he spotted more bruises.
He caught her wrist, lightly circling it with his fingers. She sucked in a gasp as he turned her arm over and pushed back the sleeve of her thermal shirt to reveal several half-moon bruises on her arm. He guided her sleeve upward, following a trail all the way to her elbow.
“Hell, Jenna,” he ground out.
Her gaze shot to his, warm and bright and searching. He realized how fast her breaths were coming. Was she in pain?
The thought shook him. He released her arm, but neither of them moved. He didn’t realize how many freckles she actually had on her face, probably a combination of being naturally pale and having a job working outdoors.
His stare dropped to her mouth. Sure enough, her lips bore a hint of that pink-red that kept him wondering if she sucked lollipops. He knew some cops or military personnel who did that to distract themselves from stress. And if she was getting assaulted on the job, no wonder she was stressed.
“Tell me what happened.”
She twisted her lips. “It wasn’t a big deal, Harris. You don’t have to go all Xtreme Ops on the guy—he’s already sitting in the local jail.”
His mouth twitched at her words. Going Xtreme Ops on anybody wasn’t a term he’d heard before.
“So what happened? He didn’t want to leave the park?”
She nodded.
She didn’t want to give him the full story. Why was he pushing her for it?
For some reason, he needed to hear her say it. Maybe then he could control his feelings about it.
“What happened after that?”
She shrugged and pulled her sleeve down. When she started to step away, he caught her by the upper arm. She winced, and he immediately dropped his hand.
“Fuck—you’re bruised there too?”
“It’s sort of…up my entire arm to the shoulder. He didn’t come quietly. I…had to tase him.”
He gaped at her. Of course he knew park rangers were equipped to handle such situations, but he couldn’t picture this small woman pulling out her taser and striking down anyone.
As he studied her, she raised her jaw. “See? I do hold my personal safety in regard.”
He gave a nod. “Does this happen often?”
She shrugged, but he noted the movement was small, probably due to her bruised shoulder. He’d like to peel off her tops and see the damage for himself.
Why was he tormenting himself with this? She was fine—she handled herself. The man was locked in jail.
“Park rangers are one of the most assaulted law enforcement officers,” she said. “Because there are fewer of us, we don’t have enough backup. Denali National Park doesn’t employ nearly enough of us, and we’re spread too thin. It’s why when I get a call, I go. If I get in trouble, I want my fellow rangers coming to my aid too.”
As she spoke, he registered the weight of her words, but his focus centered on her mouth too. On the sweet, plump lips, too red to be natural, and the flash of her straight white teeth between them. How would she taste? Like the cherry lollipops she probably sucked on?
Realizing how close he was to kissing her, he stepped back.
By her expression, he couldn’t tell if she was relieved he stopped interrogating her…or something else? Her gaze followed him before she dropped it to the box at her feet.
“I brought supplies. Since we’ve been using them.”
> “I don’t recall you using anything.”
She hefted the box into her arms again and carried it to the table. She dumped it there and busied herself putting away more canned goods and some boxed items that would last the test of time as well as provide fuel for anybody unfortunate enough to be stuck here.
When she finished, she turned to the plant hanging in the window. “Aren’t you looking lovely this morning? You’re getting all the light, but you look a little thirsty.”
The woman was nuts. Who talked to plants, took solo hikes into the wilderness, wore gold threads around a braid in her hair…or went by the name Moon Shadow?
“Did you water her this morning?” She turned to Lipton.
A jolt of electricity passed between them and stabbed deep through his chest, as quick as a sword lance.
Son of a bitch. He really was attracted to her.
He didn’t want to be.
He couldn’t freakin’ figure out why he was.
And she must feel it too, if her pretending he wasn’t in the room indicated anything.
Jenna ran a bit of water into a cup and stood on tiptoe to empty it into the plant.
“I thought the instructions said to water every two days.”
The smooth, deep tones of Harris’s voice had her body going haywire. As did his close proximity when she entered the cabin and also him gently touching her wrist to examine her bruises.
Each glide of his callused fingertip over her skin left behind a brand, a mark nobody could see but she could feel to the pit of her stomach and down into the curls of her toes.
She didn’t need to bring food today. The cabin had enough stock to see a person through a week or more. If she was honest with herself—and she didn’t really want to be—she had come just to see Harris.
To feel his eyes on her and know that breathless, heart-racing feeling he left behind. She rubbed her arm where he’d touched her, her heart skipping as she remembered the brush of his fingers.
“Jenna.”
Rooted to the floor, she realized he stood close enough that his body heat radiated to her. Afraid to turn, she barely pivoted her head.