Summer on the Mountain

by Rosemarie Naramore

  “Mom, you could have told me you have a house guest,” Jarrod said in frustration. “How was I supposed to know the woman was a friend of yours?”

  “She told you, that’s how.”

  He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Look, Mom, I’m sorry. How many times do I have to say it?”

  “I suggest you apologize to her,” she snapped. “You had her arrested, Jarrod! I can hardly believe it. Summer’s a beautiful girl, both inside and out. Oh,” she groaned, “please tell me she doesn’t have a police record now, thanks to you!”

  “For the third time, she wasn’t arrested and she does not have a record. Wait a minute,” he said harshly. “Mom, if allowing that woman to stay in our cabin is another one of your attempts at setting me up, don’t even think about it. I’m not interested.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Cut the act, Mom. I would think after Lauren, and our failed attempts at a relationship, you’d give up already.” He practically moaned out loud. If installing a beautiful young woman in the cabin beside his was her way of foisting another potential wife on him, her efforts were misplaced. He was fed up with her matchmaking attempts and simply didn’t have time for it right now. He had poachers to catch, and the job was all-consuming.

  Besides, his mother’s repeated matchmaking attempts had failed miserably time and again. Lauren was a prime example. He’d met her when Gwendolyn had sent her up for a weekend stay at the cabin. Admittedly, he and Lauren had hit it off initially, but it had soon become apparent she wasn’t meant for rustic living.

  “Lauren wasn’t for you,” Gwendolyn quipped, drawing him out of his reverie.

  He chortled. “You can say that again. Nor were any of the other women you tried to set me up with. Well, hear me and hear me good, Mom. I’m not interested in being set up. I’m happy with my life as it is.”

  “You can’t fault Lauren for finding she wasn’t a woodsy gal,” Gwendolyn said snidely.

  “Well, she knew I was a woodsy guy when we started dating,” he said equally snidely. “Anyway, Mom, if this is a setup, give it up.”

  “You will apologize to Summer,” she said sternly.

  He replaced the phone on the hook. He raked a hand through his hair, and then strode to his refrigerator to see about dinner. It had been a long day. He’d been sent to Janson Ridge for a suspected poacher sighting—had found evidence of poaching—but had discovered the criminal element was long gone.

  He had found a makeshift campsite that had been abandoned with little regard for the delicate balance of nature. The poachers had left behind garbage, including tin cans, and Jarrod had found a red splotch on a rock that he believed to be blood from an animal. Tufts of fur on the ground nearby attested to the reality that an animal had been skinned and cleaned at the site.

  He winced thinking about it, wishing he could get his hands on the people who had so little regard for these animals. This was the animals’ domain—they didn’t bother anyone—so why couldn’t people leave them unmolested? He would never understand the cruelty some of these people displayed as they hunted down protected and other animals.

  With a sigh, he closed the refrigerator door, having lost his appetite. He remembered accosting the woman at the lake earlier, demanding to see her fishing license. He realized he’d been impatient, and suspected he should have handled things differently. Well, in light of discovering the woman was a friend of his mother’s, he knew he should have handled things differently.

  In his defense, she had been fishing without a license and on his property, and using his pole. What was he supposed to think? It was within the realm of possibility that she might have been a burglar. Burglars weren’t always shifty little men who stole around in the night.

  Admittedly, the woman was beautiful. He recalled her name was Summer. Appropriate, he mused, since her long blond hair reminded him of the sun’s golden rays, spreading over her shoulders and spilling down her back. Her heavily lashed eyes, forest green in color, were striking—though as she’d fixed them on him, there was no denying she’d wanted to strike him.

  “Ah, heck” he groaned aloud, scrubbing his hand across his stubbled jaw. He supposed he owed her an apology and decided it was as good a time as any to get it over with.

  He left his cabin, striding across his yard and stepping onto his folks’ property. He climbed the porch steps, taking them two at a time, and then knocked crisply on the front door.

  When Summer opened the door, she blinked several times. Jarrod noted her eyes appeared heavily lidded, and he realized she’d probably been sleeping.

  “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

  She nodded, and he didn’t miss the hostility radiating from her. He also noticed her cheeks boasted a rosy hue. She coughed, and he winced.

  “I, uh, wanted to apologize for before, at the lake.”

  She straightened and lifted her chin, but still didn’t speak.

  “I understand you are a friend of my mother’s…”

  She nodded, still unspeaking, and cleared her throat. It felt raspy and sore, and she bemoaned how quickly a cold had set in. But then, it wasn’t everyday she found herself taking an unwanted dip in an icy lake.

  “You’ve caught a cold? That fast?” he winced. “Wow. I’m sorry.”

  “The water was freezing,” she said icily. “Although, you wouldn’t know that, would you?”

  He frowned. What was she getting at? “Well, the water up here is always cold. It warms up some as summer progresses, but…” He shrugged.

  “How nice of you to jump into the lake to save me, considering it’s your fault I ended up there.”

  He chuckled, understanding her meaning, but quickly bit back the laughter. “Well, I apologize for startling you, and causing you to fall in, but you seemed to know how to swim. If I’d noticed you drowning, I’d have probably jumped in. Besides, you broke the law.”

  “You would probably have jumped in? You were more concerned about the … the fish than me,” she accused, coughed, and shook her head. She raised a hand. “It doesn’t matter.”

  She stepped back to close the door and he surprised her by grasping the edge of it. She gasped when he stepped past her and into the cabin. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “If it’s my fault you’re sick, then I guess I should see that you recover quickly.”

  What the heck was the man talking about? she wondered. She wanted nothing more than to be alone in her misery. She couldn’t very well sleep with Gwendolyn’s son in the cabin, and she desperately wanted to go back to the bed she had made on the couch.

  She raised a hand. “I don’t need you to help me recover,” she said tiredly. “Just go, please.”

  “No. No. I caused this mess. It’s only fair I try to fix it. Have you eaten?”

  She shook her head. She didn’t feel like eating. “Please go.”

  “I’m going to make you some soup first.”

  “I don’t want soup.”

  “It’ll make you feel better.”

  With a frustrated shake of her head, she followed him into the kitchen where he pulled a can of chicken soup out of the pantry. He turned on a burner on the stove, and then glanced around for a pot. He pulled one from a drawer beneath the oven, and then a can opener from a smaller drawer.

  Soon the soup was heating on the stove and he turned to Summer, assessing her with a critical eye. “I think you have a fever.”

  When he took a step toward her to check her forehead, she stepped back quickly, nearly toppling over a box of laundry detergent. “I don’t bite,” he said, “and you nearly took another fall just then.” He shook his head.

  “And that would have been your fault, too.”

  He gave her a long-suffering look. “I’ve apologized…”

  “You almost had me arrested,” she reminded him.

  “Almost being the operative word,” he said, smiling winningly.

  What was he smiling about? she wondered. Earlier, she h
ad thought him incapable of smiling. The jerk.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked suddenly, studying her with unconcealed interest. She didn’t respond and he flashed a quick grin. “You think I’m a jerk,” he said, failing to mask his laughter. He could see by her arched brows that he’d read her thoughts accurately. “I can be,” he admitted, and then strode out of the room.

  He returned with two caplets and passed them to her. He filled a cup with water. “Take the pills,” he said. She shot him a questioning glance. “They’ll help with the fever,” he added.

  “How do I know you’re not trying to poison me?”

  “I’m a law enforcement officer,” he said reasonably.

  She shrugged. “That didn’t stop you from trying to drown me.” She measured him with a look. “I suppose I can expect a ticket in the mail any day now.”

  “I’ve decided to let you off with a warning, uh, now that I know everything was a misunderstanding.”

  She couldn’t find any gratitude for the gesture at the moment. Instead, she swallowed the pills and returned to the living room. She dropped onto the couch, tucking her legs beneath her, and wrapping herself in a blanket. She still felt chilled to the bone and really wanted him to leave her to her misery. She didn’t like being sick, and especially didn’t like being sick with an audience.

  To her surprise, he appeared in front of her, holding out a bowl of soup on a plate. Saltine crackers rounded the bowl. She grudgingly accepted the food, realizing she might be able to eat a little. He smiled and to her horror, dropped into a nearby recliner to watch her eat.

  “You really should leave,” she said. “I’d hate for you to catch this.” The words, spoken in a saccharin tone and followed by an exaggerated cough in his direction, elicited another wide smile from her guest.

  “I don’t get sick. Eat!” he commanded.

  She raised the spoon, taking a hesitant bite, but realized it tasted good and felt good going down. “I’ll make you a hot lemon,” he said suddenly. “That always helps with a cold.”

  “What’s a hot lemon?” she murmured, but he didn’t hear her, since he’d already stepped into the kitchen.

  He returned soon enough with a mug containing a liquid she couldn’t readily identify. “Hot water, lemon juice, and a little sugar,” he offered in response to her raised eyebrows. “Great for a cold.”

  She nodded, and he reached for her soup bowl, setting it down on an end table beside her. He passed her the hot lemon. She took a hesitant sip, but found she liked the taste.

  “Good, huh?” he prompted.

  He had reclaimed his seat, and sat sprawled back in the recliner, having raised the leg support. She shot him a frustrated glance. “My house,” he said by way of explanation.

  “I thought this was your folks’ place?” she said, sniffling.

  “Same thing. Feeling any better?”

  “No.”

  “Anything more I can do?”

  “You’ve done enough,” she said pointedly.

  Absently, she sipped the hot lemon, wondering when the man would leave. He surprised her when he spoke.

  “Okay,” he began, “just so you know, there’s no point to any of this.”

  She shook her head. No point to what? she wondered. Eating the soup and drinking the hot lemon? Then why did he bother making both for her?

  “Mom is zero for…” He shook his head and frowned. “God only knows what number at this point,” he said ruefully. “And I’m not looking for a girlfriend, or a wife, or a…”

  “What?” Summer said coldly, nearly dropping the hot lemon in her lap.

  “Careful there,” he warned, and then lowered the leg rest of the recliner and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His sincere, apologetic eyes bore into her startled ones. “It’s not as if you’re not an attractive woman… I mean, clearly you’re an attractive woman, but…”

  “What?” she said in a shrill voice.

  He scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “I just think we should get some things straight from the get-go. It’ll save so much time,” he said, chuckling ruefully. “We live in different worlds. Mine is harsh, rough, cold,” he said, extending a hand toward the lake. “Yours is soft, forgiving, and comfortable. Warm,” he added for emphasis. “And, I’ve traveled this road before…”

  Summer rose abruptly and a bit of the hot lemon sloshed onto her hand. She felt slightly dizzy from rising so rapidly. “What are you talking about?” she demanded.

  “Well, us. Or rather, I’m attempting to point out there can be no ‘us.’”

  Summer’s green eyes widened in horror, and then blazed with anger as she glared at him. “Us?” she repeated, her voice filled with venom.

  “Yes.”

  She aimed a pointer finger at the door. “Get out!”

  Jarrod appeared taken aback. “There’s no reason we can’t be cordial about this.”

  “Get out!”

  He rose, smiling confusedly. “I don’t mean to hurt you. I just think these things need to be said, before anyone gets hurt.”

  Anyone. Meaning her.

  Dear Lord, he had to be the most arrogant creature she’d ever laid eyes on. Infuriating. She wanted nothing more than to hoist him into the air and with a superhuman strength, toss him into the lake. She shot a quick glance his way, her lips pursed in disgust.

  So he thought his mother was playing matchmaker—apparently there was a history of Gwendolyn setting him up—but she wasn’t there for that reason.

  The unmitigated gall of the man!

  ***

  Jarrod stepped off the porch, and paused briefly. He raked a hand through his hair, his brows furrowed into a frown. He hadn’t expected the woman to be so angry when he told her they had no future. What must his mother have promised the girl to have induced her to head for the wilderness anyway? Clearly, she no more belonged on a mountaintop than America’s Next Top Model.

  He strode home and promptly called Gwendolyn again. “Well, Mom, I apologized to your friend, and I also effectively squelched any romantic notions you may have put in her pretty head about me.”

  “WHAT?” Gwendolyn shrieked. “You did what?”

  “Mom, I don’t think it’s fair for you to give this girl an impression that there might be a future for us…”

  “Oh, Jarrod. You’re my son, and I love you, but you definitely take after your father,” she moaned.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Honey, you’re a good looking man, and as your mother, I love you to pieces, but sweetie, you are an arrogant…”

  “Mom!”

  She sighed heavily. “Jarrod. Go over there and apologize to Summer. Now!”

  “I won’t apologize for doing something that needed doing. I can’t have her living over there and harboring romantic notions. I have a job to do, and just can’t be bothered right now.”

  “Oh, Jarrod. It’s no wonder you’re single,” she said with a beleaguered sigh.

  “What?”

  “Honey, you’re not the sharpest hook in the tackle box, are you?”

  “I don’t even know how to respond to that,” he said with a humorless laugh. “Mom, I did the right thing.”

  “No, dear. You did not. Summer isn’t there trying to trap you into a relationship. She’s there, doing a favor for me.” She relayed the details of the arrangement to him. She mentioned Summer might be at the cabin for several weeks.

  “You’re serious?”

  “Yes, honey,” she said in a voice reminiscent of the one she used when he was a child and had done something especially stupid.

  He sighed heavily. What had he just done? Remembering the shocked expression on Summer’s face, he realized he probably had been mistaken thinking she was there to lure him into a relationship. Why had he acted like such an idiot?

  He rubbed his eyes and decided lack of sleep accounted for his bout of insanity. He sincerely hoped the insanity was temporary. He’d been up for several
nights, having been on a stakeout with another ranger.

  Oh, good grief, he nearly moaned aloud. Living next door to Summer for no telling how long meant the two would have occasion to run into one another. His face reddened at the prospect of an encounter. How would he ever look her in the eye?

  “Oh, shoot,” he muttered, and his mother could easily envision the look on her son’s face at that instant. He realized he’d made an utter and complete fool of himself, and she fought the chuckle that threatened to escape her lips. She’d managed to convey to him that she had no motive in sending Summer to the cabin other than to have her paint a landscape for Leonard. And she hadn’t … at first.

  “Mom,” he said, drawing her out of her reverie. “I’m an idiot.”

  “Yes, dear, you are.”

  Chapter Four

  Summer rolled out of bed several days later, feeling a sense of well being that surprised her. Her cold had been terrible initially, but fortunately, the crisp mountain air seemed to speed the healing process and she was clearly on the mend. She was grateful, since there was so much she wanted to do today. Not the least of which, she needed to begin scouting a possible subject for her painting.

  After readying for her day and eating a light breakfast, she strolled down to the lake and out to the end of the dock. She sipped a cup of hot coffee as she surveyed the scene before her. The lake was smooth as glass, nary a ripple breaking the surface.

  Had she looked to her right, she would have spotted Jarrod standing lakeside. He noticed her and sighed. He considered approaching her to issue another apology, but decided against it. Instead, he strode back to his cabin, and began readying for his day.

  Summer sat down on the dock, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply of the mountain air. It smelled light, fresh, and she decided that if it were candy, it would be the finest chocolate.

  A strange plopping sound below her drew her attention. She glanced around her, and then got on her knees and leaned over the side of the dock. She couldn’t see anything in the crystalline water that would account for the noise. She heard the sound again and cocked her head, straining to determine the source.