by Lucy Monroe
“I’m sure she’s not taking an afternoon for herself.”
“Maybe, maybe not, but you’ll hurt her feelings if you show up to work when she told you not to.”
An expression of disgruntlement crossed Kitty’s features, which made two honest emotions he’d seen since their hike. She’d been so free and happy on the way up to the overlook, but it had all drained away on the way down.
“Fine, I’ll take the afternoon off.”
“Good. Aana will be glad to hear it. She’s hoping you’ll have lunch with her.”
“I’m having dinner with your family tonight.”
“You know how loud and crowded that can be. She wants a chance to visit with you one-on-one.”
For five full seconds, the horror she clearly felt at such a prospect washed over Kitty’s lovely face, but then she schooled her expression as if the dismay had never been there.
“Why don’t you want to have lunch with my mother?” he demanded.
Malina MacKinnon adored Kitty. There was nothing bad here.
“Your mom is a gossip, maybe even worse than Gran.”
He couldn’t deny it. In a town the size of Cailkirn, gossip was a favorite pastime of a good portion of the residents, men and women alike.
Tack shrugged. “She’s harmless. She doesn’t spread hurtful things.” Or dig into painful situations.
She’d never once asked Nik Vasov why he didn’t speak to his parents, and she’d never asked Tack for information on his friend’s new proxy bride. She’d hinted at it, but never come right out and requested Tack give her the lowdown.
“Aana is not mean or malicious.”
“I know that. You might not believe me, but I loved your mother when we were kids.”
“What’s your problem, then?”
“She asks a lot of questions.”
“So?”
“So, maybe I don’t want to answer them.”
“Then don’t.”
“You think it’s that easy?” Kitty asked, obviously feeling otherwise.
But she was wrong. “Yes, I know it is.” All she had to do was ask and his mom would back off.
Kitty closed her eyes, the skin around her mouth tight, her fingers curling into fists on top of her desk. Another indication of real feeling he didn’t figure would last long.
And he was right. When she opened her eyes, there was no emotion there. None at all.
“Kitty?”
She shook her head. “I’d be delighted to have lunch with your mother and dinner with the MacKinnon clan tonight.”
He’d call her on the obvious lie, but there was a brittle air around her he was afraid to shatter. Besides, as much as she was prevaricating, he also felt she meant every word.
Or wanted to. “Thank you.”
“Did you have something you needed?”
“We could go over my schedule.”
“It’s on your desk with the changes made in the last twenty-four hours highlighted in yellow.”
“Okay.” She went over Bobby’s schedule with him personally, but Tack got a piece of paper—with highlights.
“I’ve also sent it to your calendar. It should be on your phone now.”
“That’s very efficient of you.”
She inclined her head. “Organizing schedules is something I have a lot of experience with.”
“Egan said you had an idea for computerizing the reservation system.”
The fact that Kitty had brought it up to his brother rather than Tack bothered him, but since Egan was junior partner in the business and had said Kitty suggested he mention it to Tack, he couldn’t exactly complain about it.
“Yes. The B and B’s new website and online registration option got me thinking. If you had a similar feature on your website, you’d probably get more spur-of-the-moment reservations than you do now. A lot of people don’t like having to call and talk to someone to make a reservation.”
“How will we know their skill level or physical stamina to be sure they aren’t registering for an excursion they won’t be able to keep up with?”
“The same way as on the phone. Have a series of screening questions that funnels them to the pages for the tours best suited to what they can and want to do.”
“It sounds complicated.”
“It is, but Annie said she’s designed a few similar sites for other businesses, so she could give you a discount on the base site elements.”
“I don’t know.”
“Think about it. She’ll be here in about an hour to talk it over with you and Egan.”
“What?” His shock at this evidence of Kitty’s former boldness coursed through him, making his heart beat faster. Yeah, that’s what did that. Shock. Not her nearness. “You can’t make appointments like that for me.”
“Sure I can, boss-man. I checked your schedule and you don’t have anything on it.” The look she gave him dared him to argue that point.
No way was he going to. Since he’d been guilty of doing the same thing to her about dinner with his family, Tack wasn’t going to be a hypocrite.
“An investment like this is something we have to plan for.” He didn’t want to squash this show of spirit and initiative, but he wasn’t made of gold dust either.
Her look was wry. “Egan told me you’re surgically attached to the purse strings on the business, but I crunched the numbers.”
“Did you now?” He settled one hip against her desk. Not inhaling her fragrance and definitely not noticing how the subtle scent of gardenias suited her so well.
That would be counterproductive to his no-sex rule.
“Yes. That’s also something I’m good at.”
“Okay, I’ll bite. What did your number crunching tell you?”
“If my conservative estimates are correct, the site will pay for itself in two seasons and be making a solid profit for you after that. Long-term, it will cost you less than hiring full-time office staff and make doing so unnecessary.”
“That’s hard to believe.”
“Unless you hire more guides and take on more tours, but then the income they generate would be paying for the extra clerical hours they would necessitate.”
He opened his mouth to argue again and then shut it. She was putting herself out there, using her education and intelligence to help him with his business.
She might not realize it, but he wasn’t blind to how hard that must be for her. Not to mention she had some pretty good points.
“I’ll meet with Annie, but I’m not promising anything.”
“That’s your call.” Then Kitty dismissed him, going back to her computer as if he weren’t still standing against her desk.
In the middle of his own damn reception area.
Hell. He’d known that kiss had been a mistake.
Not the least of which because he’d spent every night since dreaming about it and waking up with either an aching cock or jizz on his sheets.
* * *
Malina MacKinnon blew in with a burst of cold air and chatter. “Oh, Caitlin, there you are. When Tack told me you would be here so I could take you out to lunch, I thought he was putting me off. He’s not fond of what he calls my nagging and has been known to avoid it via devious methods. I swear he moved into his own cabin to avoid having to come up with excuses for not attending our winter social gatherings.”
“You know that’s not true, Aana.” Tack came out of his office with a smile for his mother.
Malina shook her head, her dark shiny hair cut in a flattering asymmetrical style swaying with the movement. “That’s not the way I was raised, you know?” She mock pouted. “In my family, a child did not move out until they married and not always then. My sister and her family made their home with my parents until my father left us.”
By left us, Caitlin knew Malina meant died.
“Emaa came to live with us then, which is what you wanted all along,” Egan added from behind Tack.
The two brothers had been closeted in Tack�
��s office discussing Annie’s proposal for the website since the computer programmer had left. Caitlin didn’t understand why Tack was so resistant. She was doing their books now and knew their margins had been sufficient for him to have hired full-time office help too.
His need to be a success and still entirely self-sufficient was borderline obsessive.
When they were younger, he’d desperately wanted to prove himself to the Inuit grandfather who saw Tack and his siblings as somehow less because their father was MacKinnon, not Inuit. Tack had faced his share of the opposite prejudice, too, especially once they started bussing to the larger schools when they got older.
But that grandfather was gone now and Caitlin sincerely doubted anyone in Cailkirn treated Tack with anything less than full respect these days. So, who was he trying to prove himself to?
“And why shouldn’t I?” Malina demanded. “Not all daughters are so quick to dismiss the value of their mother’s wisdom.”
“Give it a rest, Mom.” Tack’s use of the English word instead of aana was his subtle way of letting Malina know he was irritated with her.
The argument between Malina and Shila must be getting on everyone’s nerves.
He’d never raise his voice to his mother, but this was the closest thing to it for both the MacKinnon boys.
Malina’s indignant look said she’d noticed too.
Egan added, “Shila isn’t here to appreciate the jibe and if you expect us to pass it on, you’re dreaming.”
“You are her older brothers. You should talk some sense into her.”
“Shila’s got plenty of sense,” Tack said with a tinge of exasperation.
“What do you think, Caitlin?” Malina appealed to her. “Don’t you think Shila should go out of state for at least one year of college?”
Tension at being put on the spot filled Caitlin, but she didn’t let it filter into her voice. “I think you’ve raised three intelligent, independent children who are not prone to capricious decisions, Malina.”
The older woman’s smooth features, which did not begin to show her age, shifted into a thoughtful expression. “Are you saying I have myself to blame for my daughter’s stubbornness?”
Caitlin gave Malina one of her social smiles. “Not at all. I believe you can lay your children’s intransigence directly at Fergus’s door.”
Malina’s laugh tinkled and her sons smiled, both looking decidedly relieved.
“You are as charming as ever, dear.”
“Thank you.” Caitlin didn’t force another smile, though.
That would be too much like lying. She wasn’t like she used to be and what Malina called charm was nothing but a well-developed sense of tact.
The older woman looked down at her watch. “It’s after one. Are you ready for lunch? I’m so looking forward to a chance to talk. It’s been so long.”
Panic welled, but Caitlin ruthlessly pushed it down. Though she couldn’t help asking Tack, “As long as there’s nothing you need?”
His head shake said there would be no reprieve there.
“He and Egan don’t have claim on your afternoons.” Malina gave her sons a warning look that said they’d better not try to derail Caitlin’s afternoon plans. “And I know your grandmother has instructed you take this one off from the Knit and Pearl.”
“If the FBI recruited you, more criminals would be apprehended,” Caitlin tried to tease, though her voice came out flat.
Malina laughed anyway, the musical sound infectious. Or it would be, if Caitlin could feel anything but anxiety about the coming lunch. She’d let herself forget how much socializing in Cailkirn was accompanied by a meal.
She tried to calm her racing pulse as she bent down to retrieve her purse from beneath the capacious desk. It didn’t help, but she was fairly certain she’d managed to mask the stress from her expression.
There was nothing she could do about the sweat beading at the center of her back or the way her stomach rebelled at the thought of trying to eat while fielding the older woman’s tenacious curiosity. Tack was right—there wasn’t a malicious bone in Malina’s body, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t push into and well past Caitlin’s comfort zone.
“Let me just grab my coat.” Caitlin’s voice came out a little high, but she was pretty sure Malina didn’t notice.
She was busy chiding Egan for staying out until all hours the night before.
From the look on the twenty-four-year-old man’s face, Caitlin thought Tack had been spot-on when he’d said his brother would be moving out on his own sooner rather than later.
She retrieved her lightweight teal and black houndstooth trench coat Aunt Elspeth had given her. The former beauty queen had told Caitlin that the coat was a mail-order item that had arrived looking much more youthful than she expected.
Caitlin didn’t mention that she’d noticed the package delivered the day before or that the coat had looked and smelled like it had just come out of its plastic wrapping for shipping.
“What a lovely coat. Is it new?” Malina asked. “I thought I saw it in one of my favorite clothing catalogs for the first time this spring.”
And so it began.
Caitlin finished tying the belt. “Thank you. It’s new to me.”
“Oh? Was it a gift?”
“Seriously, Aana? Does it matter?” Egan asked with a roll of his eyes in Caitlin’s direction.
“I’ll thank you not to take that tone with me, son,” Malina admonished. She didn’t raise her voice or even frown, but Egan looked suitably abashed anyway.
Tack walked up, wearing a brown leather jacket over his forest green Henley. “Are you two ready to go?”
“You’re joining us?” Caitlin asked.
He hadn’t said anything about doing so that morning.
“Yes,” Tack said.
“No,” his mother denied at the same time.
The older woman gave her oldest son a look. “Not that I’m not always happy for my children’s company, but this is a girls-only lunch.”
“You would deny sustenance when I am in need?” Tack’s expression was both guileless and clearly serious, his rumbling stomach giving credence to his words.
A frown of worry creased Malina’s face. “You haven’t eaten lunch?”
“No, and I had a very small breakfast,” he said, laying it on thick.
Another woman might tell her son to take himself off to lunch then, but not Malina MacKinnon. If her child needed feeding—perfectly capable adult or not—she would make sure he got a sufficient meal under her watchful eye.
“You don’t mind him coming along, do you, Caitlin?” Malina asked.
Caitlin just shook her head, kind of amazed at how well Tack played his mother. Only she knew from the past that it went both ways. The MacKinnon boys would cross a glacier without snowshoes for their mom and not complain when it resulted in frostbite.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
They went to the only restaurant that was open year-round and was a longtime favorite of the permanent residents.
Malina had called ahead for a table. The waitress led them to a booth that was supposed to seat four but only if two of the diners were small children.
Malina and Caitlin would have fit better together on one bench seat, but Tack slid in next to her, forcing his mother to sit on the opposite side of the booth.
If Malina found that odd, she didn’t say so.
Tack pressed against Caitlin from shoulder to knee and there was nowhere for her to go. Panic of an entirely different nature shot through her at the contact.
Tack might have no interest in repeating their kiss and sexual intimacies, but Caitlin wasn’t so lucky. Her emotions had retreated behind old walls for safety, but this burgeoning desire was too new for her to have developed a coping mechanism to deal with it.
The restaurant did not have a menu, but a list of daily specials on the chalkboard by the front door.
Caitlin ordered a salad while Tack gave proof to his hunger
by requesting a burger with the works, potato salad, and a side of the organic applesauce the diner was known for.
“Is that all you’re eating?” Malina asked Caitlin, genuine concern glowing in eyes the same chocolate brown as her son’s. “Don’t you want some chicken or smoked salmon on your salad? Maybe half a sandwich?”
“I’m not very hungry,” Caitlin said honestly. “I couldn’t eat a sandwich.”
She would have been happy to simply order a glass of juice but didn’t think either Malina or Tack would find that acceptable. He didn’t look like he approved of her salad order either. Thankfully, he didn’t say anything.
Malina waved the waitress down. “Could you just have Tyler add some diced chicken to that salad?”
“Sure, Miss MacKinnon.” The waitress went over to call out the order change to the cook.
Caitlin clamped down on the urge to demand they leave her salad alone. Malina meant well, as evidenced by what she said next. “I remember you used to be partial to chicken breast. You still like it, don’t you?”
Caitlin could only nod.
“It’s so nice to have you back in Cailkirn.” Malina’s thousand-watt smile warmed Caitlin but did nothing to diminish the stress churning in her belly.
“It’s good to be home.” Which wasn’t a lie.
Not even a little one. Caitlin was very glad to be back in Cailkirn, no matter how hard she was finding it to settle in. She knew eventually she’d find her place and the peace she was searching for.
She just had to make it through the town’s gauntlet of gossip and well-intended busybodies first.
“So, you’ll be staying, then?” Malina asked.
“Yes.”
“You haven’t been back in eight years,” Malina said leadingly.
Caitlin had long ago lost the inclination to defend or explain herself. “No, I haven’t.”
The less she said in the circles she’d moved in Los Angeles, the less likely her words could come back to bite her later.
Malina was a talented ferreter of information and she employed the silence most people would feel the need to fill.
Caitlin just took the time to smooth the edges of her thoughts. As hard as Tack’s nearness was on her libido, it acted as a welcome distraction from his mother’s near-palpable curiosity.