Wyatt looked up, his hair shoved into angry spikes. He hated doing the accounting.
Serenity Lodge must have some clients for them. She ignored the little voice going, don’t, don’t, don’t. Her desire to avoid Jake didn’t matter. This was business.
She ignored Wyatt’s motion for her not to talk and said loudly, “The women’s group I’m guiding will return Monday, so I’m free on Tuesday.”
“I’ll get back to you, Hunt.” He punched the Off button hard. “You just had to keep talking, didn’t you? I don’t want to book you with anyone from the lodge.”
“That’s what I thought. We’ve been over this, remember?” She glared at him. “Honestly, Wyatt, they can’t be worse than some of the yuppies I’ve taken out—the ones who think a female guide provides sleeping bag services.”
His face went dark, and he shoved to his feet. “Who? Who the hell… Did they touch you?”
Not a good argument to use, stupid girl. “Not for more than a second. Understanding was achieved quickly.” She rolled her eyes. “Cuz, I sleep lightly, I carry a knife, and you guys are the ones who taught me to fight. It’s not a problem. Sit.”
With a grunt, he sank back into his chair. “Okay. But those people from the lodge—that’s something else. Virgil reamed me and Morgan a new one about letting you anywhere near them.” He gingerly fingered a dark purple bruise on his jaw. “He said the Hunts are actually involved in that stuff.”
“Oh?” Involved? If he only knew… God, they’d haul her to a convent. “Who cares? If the guests start swinging from trapezes while they”— screw—“mess around, I’ll just step off the trail and wait until they finish.”
Wyatt scowled.
“They’re probably safer to be around than the clients who think camping means you don’t need deodorant.”
He barked a laugh. “You might have a point.”
“I have several. I’m part of the business. ‘Everyone is equal in this house,’ remember?”
“Pa might have gone overboard with that rule,” Wyatt muttered. When she crossed her arms, he held up his hands. “Fine. You win. We’ll outfit a party of four—two couples—for an overnight next Tuesday.”
For her own comfort, she asked, “Just the four people? Not either of the Hunts?”
“Doubt it. Why would they go?”
Good. That’s good. “Have Logan fax the details.” She shook her head. The Hunts and the Mastersons were doing business together, so she might as well resign herself to it and shut down the part of her that felt hurt. Yeah, when she ran into bastard Hunt, she would act just as “ice cube up the butt” as he had.
“Will do.” Wyatt picked up the phone. “By the way, I invited the Hunts to our party on the Fourth. Logan said they’d come.”
“Oh.” She swallowed her frustrated scream. “How nice.” She made it back into the kitchen before losing it, and then she slammed the counter with a fist, growling like Mufasa if someone tried to steal a newly killed mouse.
Growling. Hitting. Very antisocial. She’d better visit her sanctuary and de-stress or she’d rip Wyatt’s head right off his shoulders. Not that it would affect anything—his brain must be located elsewhere.
* * *
Jake and Logan walked into the ClaimJumper. The country-western music hit Jake first—“Good Hearted Woman” with Waylon and Willie. Not bad. At least the owner, Gustaf, hadn’t put on his beloved Johnny Cash. Yet.
The scent of beer, burgers, and french fries overwhelmed the traces of maybe-I’ll-get-laid aftershave and perfumes. At first glimpse, he thought the entire thousand-plus population of Bear Flat had jammed into the tiny tavern, but no—just another Saturday night. Tourists from the handful of bed-and-breakfasts and the local motel mingled with loggers and locals and a few fishermen from the river lodge. And delivery men. Sitting at a table near the door, the redheaded, muscular guy who delivered sodas to the lodge nodded. “Fellas.”
“Evening, Secrist,” Jake said. He noticed most of the preponderantly male population watched the eye candy in the far corner where Serena and Gina sat with Logan’s fiancée.
On the way out the door, Rebecca had announced she planned to indulge herself during the girls’ night out—which was why Logan had talked Jake into driving him into town. He would take no chances of his pretty sub splattering herself all over the zigzagging highway.
Avoiding the antlers festooned with baseball and cowboy hats, Jake leaned a shoulder against the rough log wall and studied Becca. The curvy redhead looked happy—she usually did—but right now, she appeared both tipsy and giggly. He glanced at Logan. “She looks like a girl hanging out with girls.”
Logan set a foot on a chair, his hands braced on his leg as he studied his submissive. “She’s been missing this, hasn’t she?”
“Seems so. Sociable as she is, she probably had a bunch of girlfriends in San Francisco.”
“And none here. Fuck me for being so blind. I’ll make sure she takes more time off and gets into town, even if I have to drag her.”
Jake winced. “No dragging, please. My stomach isn’t up to another of your wars.” The last time business called them to San Francisco, Rebecca had insisted she’d stay at the lodge. Unwilling to risk his city girl alone in the woods, Logan had swatted her on the ass and stuffed her into the car. Bad mistake. The redhead was a magnificent cook, but the following week, nothing he or Logan ate had been edible. Damned if he knew how she’d ruined their food and still fed the guests well. And he was still pissed off that she’d included him in the battle.
Logan grinned. “Wimp. But I’ll let her decide. Bless Kallie for inviting her tonight.”
“Kallie invited her? Kallie will be here?” Jake’s gut twisted like a worm impaled on a hook. Hell, he wouldn’t have come if he’d known.
“Yeah.” Logan watched Rebecca for a minute, smiling each time she laughed. “God, she’s beautiful.”
“She is that.” And she’d turned his brother’s world around. Thank you, Becca.
“Looks like we might as well get a beer.” Logan jerked his chin toward a burly man across the room. “Bart’s here, so I’m going to check on our hardware order. Grab me a beer.”
“You bet.” As Logan headed for the lumberyard owner, Jake scoped out the rest of the room, nodding to the people he knew. Was the sprite here?
She was—at the bar beside David Whipple, and as Jake watched, the grocer wrapped his arm around her. Possessively.
A growl escaped, startling Jake as much as a flabby tourist nearby, who edged farther away. Hell, put a lock on it, Hunt. She’s not yours.
Is too.
In her own unique scruffy pixie way, Kallie was even more beautiful than Rebecca. Her short hair was tousled, like she’d just got out of bed. It had looked like that after I spanked her. She’d taken her flannel shirt off and tied it around her waist, and her tank top showed off her tanned arms. Her skin had been so smooth…
I should leave her be.
Her head tilted back, and he could tell she was laughing. Damn, he liked her laugh. Her dark eyes would be dancing and…
Don’t do this, Hunt. Even as he reached the end of the bar, she slipped away from Whipple and headed to her table, carrying two of the four drinks lined up on the bar. Well then, he’d just wait right here until she returned. His displeasure at seeing Whipple touch her had wrecked his judgment—and he didn’t give a damn.
Whipple glanced over, then scowled and averted his eyes. The animosity was mutual. Mimi had broken up with the grocer just before meeting Jake, and after seeing her black eye and swollen lip, Jake had paid the bastard a visit. So no hugs and kisses from Whipple, and wasn’t that just a crying shame?
“Hunt.” The old Swede serving drinks looked as battered as his tavern. “Gutt evening, youngling. What can I get you?”
Jake grinned. The old man was the only person who’d called him young in two decades. “A couple of drafts.”
Gustaf filled two glasses and set them on the bar top
after swiping up a few miscreant drops with a grimy towel.
After paying, Jake picked up his beer. Unfortunately the icy cold liquid didn’t divert his mind—or body—from Kallie. He was already half-erect from one look. Had he actually worried about his dick’s lack of interest?
He leaned an elbow on the bar and watched as Kallie handed off the beers to the table of women. She said something to Rebecca, laughed at the retort, and headed back to get the two drinks she’d left on the bar.
Jake moved a few steps out to intercept her.
Why’d they decide to sit so far from the bar? Kallie wondered as she headed back to fetch the rest of the drinks. She dodged a staggering tourist, veered too close to Ben’s table, and had to slap the damned lecher’s hand away from her butt. A few steps later, she pulled old Verne to his feet and two-stepped down the middle of the room with him. She’d never seen him sober, but he was a happy drunk. Ten years ago, he’d given her country dance lessons in the parking lot after some jerk whose name she couldn’t remember had made fun of her. By the time Verne had been satisfied with her progress, she could outdance most of the town.
He cackled and patted her shoulder. “Still got the moves, girl.”
“So do you, Verne.” Her kiss on his leathery cheek made him grin so wide that his silver fillings gleamed at her. Laughing, she turned away and ran into a wall. A wall of very hard man.
She heard a low chuckle, and firm hands gripped her arms to steady her. “Careful there, sprite.”
Like snow in the hot sun, every cell in her body turned to slush. Knowing he’d undoubtedly notice his effect on her, she muttered, “Hi, Jake,” to his chest without looking up.
“Kallie.” His voice rumbled across her like a mountain avalanche and had the same effect, knocking down every one of her resolutions. Her heart picked up speed, and even worse, she could feel her breasts contracting, her skin absorbing the heat of his hands. She might tell her mind to forget, but her body well remembered the feel of him against her. Thick inside her. His powerful hands—
She tried to step around him.
He put a finger under her chin and tilted her head up. “Are you not talking to me, Kallie?”
His eyes were too blue in the tavern light, and the warm look in them made her long to burrow closer. But he didn’t want that. She didn’t want that. Okay, don’t lie. She shouldn’t want that. And she really, really didn’t know how to handle this. She forced a smile. “We’re having a girls’ night out, dude, and you don’t have the proper equipment.”
She yanked away and continued to the bar. If he touched her again, she’d plant a fist in his gut. Maybe that was excessive, but, hey, he was into BDSM, right? What was a little pain between friends?
Next round, she’d send Serena to fetch the drinks.
When she reached the bar, David had an odd expression on his face. “Is he bothering you, Kallie?” He put his arm around her again.
Is this what a chicken between two hungry dogs feels like? She stepped out of reach. “Nothing I can’t handle.” She lifted the two last drinks so quickly that beer sloshed over the sides. “Well—”
“I had fun at the barbecue,” he interrupted. “How about tomorrow night? There’s a—”
“No.” The word was out before she thought, the bluntness rude enough to make his mouth thin. But she meant it. “I like you, David, but not—Dating isn’t—” Hell, could she be any more tongue-tied?
He scowled. “It’s him, isn’t it? Jake Hunt.”
Kallie glanced over her shoulder and sucked in a breath. Jake stood beside Verne—undoubtedly listening to one of the old guy’s interminable jokes—but his eyes were focused on her. No chill there tonight; his stare was like molten silver, hot enough to burn. She turned to the bar and could still feel his intense gaze on her back.
David caught her arm. “Don’t be with him, Kallie. You’re better with me. We’re good together.”
“Ah…thank you, David.” She pulled away, unsettled at his show of emotion. He had always been reserved. Polite. No fire like Jake—who didn’t want her. The thought sat in her stomach bitterly. “I don’t think I’m right for anyone.”
She headed back to the table, giving Jake a wide berth, and thumped one of the two beers down. “Here you go, Rebecca.”
After dropping ungracefully into her chair, she lifted the last beer and drained half of it in one long pull. A covert glance showed Jake still talking with Verne. Kallie shook her head, remembering Verne’s story of how Jake had jumped into a flooding river to rescue him. Dammit—like she needed to hear glowing tales of the jerk’s bravery?
When David walked past the two men on the way to the restroom, the glare he directed at Jake’s back should have put a smoldering hole in Hunt’s black T-shirt. Well, she felt the same way.
Serena and Gina were chattering about the gorgeous star of a new TV show and—thank you, God—hadn’t noticed the interlude with Jake. Rebecca, however…
“Very interesting.” Rebecca sipped her beer, her gaze on Jake. “You know, I’ve never seen him watch anyone like he does you. He’s always so easygoing; very little upsets him. When he does a scene with a woman, it’s like his emotions are switched off. But not last week at the party, or tonight.” She raised her eyebrows at Kallie.
Kallie kept her back turned to the asshole and her voice low. “Don’t look at me like that. There’s nothing going on.” She drank the rest of her beer and scowled. “We played one night, and he gave me the ‘this is only tonight’ lecture. Repeated it, even.”
“A one-nighter lecture?” Rebecca snorted a laugh. “He’s so honest I can just see him doing that. And it’s true; I’ve never seen him with any woman more than once in a row.” Rebecca tilted her head and regarded Jake. “He isn’t acting like a one-nighter right now. I don’t think he’s taken his eyes off you.”
“I don’t give a damn how he acts.” Dipwad. If he’d wanted to see her, he knew where the phone was. He’d barely said hello in the grocery store. But tonight, yeah, he’d probably had a beer or three and now wanted a quickie as a chaser. And then he’d go back to ignoring her again.
Rebecca tapped a finger on her lips. “Maybe if you flirted a little? Wore something sexy?”
“I don’t know how to flirt or be sexy.”
“No way. How can you grow up without learning the essentials?” The horrified expression on the redhead’s face made Kallie snicker.
“Three older cousins and a conservative uncle. I wanted to fit in, so I dressed like them… And they got so used to that, they’d harass me if I wore something provocative. Or looked at a guy.” Kallie smiled ruefully. “I didn’t even date until I got to college, and then it was too late to change.”
“Girl, it’s never too late to change.” Rebecca tilted her head and assessed Kallie. “I can guess your size. And then maybe a little—”
God help me. “So how did you meet Logan?”
The diversion worked. Rebecca flushed a light red and leaned closer so only Kallie could hear. “You know how wide-eyed you were last weekend? Well, you should have seen me the night I met Logan. See, my boyfriend had talked me into a holiday at Serenity.” She hesitated and glanced at Serena and Gina, who were now debating whether a man’s size could best be determined by the length of his thumbs or his feet.
Interesting. Kallie’s gaze slid to Jake and his—oh, yeah—big, big boots.
Rebecca’s eyes followed, and she burst out laughing, drawing the attention of every guy in the place, including Logan. The look he gave his fiancée was hot enough to spark a forest fire, and it sent a spike of envy right through Kallie’s heart. No man had ever looked at her like that. She took a slow breath and tried to remember what they’d been discussing. “Okay, you went to the lodge with your boyfriend. Go on.”
After checking again that the other two weren’t listening, Rebecca said, “With my boyfriend and his swinger’s club.”
“Swingers…that’s when everybody kinda sorta does everyone
else, right?”
“Oh yeah. All out in public.” Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Major mistake on my part. So when my boyfriend brought someone back to our cabin to…enjoy, I couldn’t say anything since—hey, swinger’s club, right? Anyway, I stomped out. Logan found me freezing to death on the front porch…and took me upstairs to his rooms.”
Kallie snorted, remembering the commanding way he’d wrapped his hand around the back of Rebecca’s neck. “I just bet he did.”
“Shy, he’s not.” Rebecca gave Kallie a mischievous look. “He discovered I was submissive, and sucked me right into a whole new kink. I would never have thought I’d do anything out in public, but being watched adds a certain…something.”
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