Summer on the Mountain

by Rosemarie Naramore

  She smiled. “I’ve already had that particular cold.”

  “True. But you could catch it again. But really, I’ll keep my germs to myself. Stay awhile.”

  She relented, and was about to sit down when the phone rang. “Would you mind getting that?” he asked between bites of the soup.

  She hurried to the phone on the kitchen counter. She was surprised to find Gwendolyn at the end of the phone line. “Summer!” the woman said in a startled voice.

  “Yes, it’s me. I just brought Jarrod some soup … for his cold.”

  “How very thoughtful of you, dear,” she said. Suddenly, it seemed to her things were working out better than she could have anticipated on the Jarrod-Summer front. She’d called earlier and found Jarrod at Summer’s and now, she found Summer at Jarrod’s. Interesting.

  “How’s the painting coming along?” she inquired.

  “Oh, it’s coming along. Like I said, it’s not the one we’ll give Leonard, since it really isn’t that good…”

  She startled when Jarrod took the phone from her. “The painting is great, Ma. Summer is just being modest.”

  “Well, I’m just glad she’s painting again,” Gwendolyn acknowledged.

  “You have me to thank for that,” he said self-importantly, and Summer gasped. What would Gwendolyn read into that particular declaration? She could only imagine.

  “Well, thank you then, son. How are you feeling? You sound stuffed up.”

  “Summer gave me her cold,” he said, causing her to gasp again.

  “You two are spending quite a lot of time together,” his mother observed, and Jarrod could almost hear the smile in her voice.

  “As much as we can,” he said, grinning as an idea formed. Might as well let his mom think things were going swimmingly between them. Contrary to her assertions that she wasn’t doing any matchmaking, his mother sounded downright giddy to find the two of them together. Jarrod knew full well what she was up to. “Well, gotta go, Ma. I’m going to finish my delicious soup and then get ready for work.”

  “You’re not going to work, are you? You really sound terrible.”

  “Duty calls,” he said simply and hung up. He turned to Summer. “Mom’s trying to set us up.”

  “She is not!”

  He nodded crisply. “Oh, yes, she is. She wants me married to a nice woman and giving her grandkids.”

  “She has grandkids.”

  “Not little tiny ones. She wants that kind again. The girls are practically grown.”

  Summer chuckled and shook her head.

  Jarrod watched her speculatively from between heavily lidded and watery eyes. “Maybe I ought to stop disappointing her…”

  “Don’t look at me!” she cried with alarm. “That is your business,” she said, backing away from him.

  “I’m teasing you. Come back here.”

  “I really should get back to my painting.” She started toward the front door when the phone rang again.

  “Would you mind getting that?” he called after her.

  She sighed, but did an about-face and returned to the kitchen and answered the phone. “Hello.”

  “Oh, hello, uh, this is Tyler Lane. Is Jarrod in?”

  “He is. Hold on.”

  She passed him the phone. She turned to leave but to her chagrin, he grasped her arm briefly, cocked the phone under his ear, and indicated with his pointer finger that he wanted another minute of her time.

  “Oh, hi, Tyler. Yeah, I’ll be in.” He paused. “Just a little cold is all.”

  Summer surprised herself as much as Jarrod when she snatched the phone away from him. “Hello. Jarrod is actually very ill and won’t be into work tonight.”

  He abruptly pushed back his chair and rose, reaching for the phone, which she held just out of reach. She ducked and dodged his repeated attempts to grab it from her.

  “That’s right. He has a high fever and is highly contagious,” she said, emphasizing the word as he finally managed to grab the phone.

  “I’m fine, Tyler,” he said tiredly, but grew silent. “Well, yeah, I have a temperature, but it’s no big deal.” He was silent again. “Are you sure? I’ll be there if you need me.” He was quiet for several seconds before replacing the phone on the hook. He turned back to Summer. “Why did you do that?” he asked, attempting to be stern-faced.

  “Because you’re a typical man and you think you’re invincible, when the fact is, you’ll probably develop a case of pneumonia if you sit out in the cold night air…”

  “You care!” he said with a chuckle. “You really care. Come here and give me a hug!”

  Summer laughed as she headed out the front door.

  “You’ll probably want to come over and check on me later,” he called.

  “I’m sure you’re going to live,” she said drolly.

  Back at the cabin, she couldn’t help but chuckle. Was that really the man she had met her second day at the lake? Was he really the same stern-faced and impossible ranger? She found herself succumbing to his charms and realized she’d better erect the icy wall that had served her so well in the past, with others who had attempted to break down the barrier. She wasn’t interested in a relationship with anyone right now.

  She picked up a paint brush once again and applied several brush strokes to the painting that was truly taking form. She had to admit, it was pretty, particularly after she’d added highlights to the crystalline lake. The sun shone brightly in her painting, but currently the real thing was going down, and she decided to pack up until the next day. Altered lighting could affect the outcome of the painting, so there was no point in continuing.

  ***

  The next day, Summer woke to the sound of her phone ringing. She answered with a groggy hello.

  “I’m sorry I woke you,” Jarrod said, and she immediately noted his voice was raspy.

  “You sound awful,” she commented sleepily.

  “I feel awful,” he admitted. “Hey, Summer, I am sorry to bother you, but I seem to have run out of ibuprofen tablets and anything else that might help me. I think I might be dying, by the way. Do you think you could spare something from the medicine cabinet over there?”

  “I’ll be over in a flash,” she told him, scurrying from the bed and into the shower. There was no way Jarrod was going to see her morning face. As she showered, she wondered why she cared what he thought of her face or any other part of her. And then she nearly groaned aloud. Oh, Lord, she cared.

  She dressed quickly, combed out her wet hair, and then hurried to check out the medicine cabinet. She found the ibuprofen tablets, and then did a quick search for anything that might help a severe cold. She found cold tablets purporting on the label to help his symptoms and headed for his cabin.

  He opened the door and she saw he looked terrible. His face was terribly flushed. He stepped aside and she entered the cabin, watching him with concern.

  He watched her right back, his brows furrowed in a frown. “I called you and told you I think I’m dying and could use a little medicinal help, and you take the time to shower,” he said incredulously. “That’s not very neighborly.” He reached for a damp tendril of her hair and shooting her a look of mock daggers at the same time.

  “You’re not dying, and I always start my morning with a shower.”

  She heard him grumbling behind her as she walked into the kitchen. There, she passed him three ibuprofen tablets with a cup of water. She checked his forehead as he swallowed the tablets. “You have a fever.”

  “I feel pretty bad,” he admitted seriously, and she suspected it wasn’t like him to admit to any kind of weakness.

  “Do you have a thermometer?”

  He waved the question aside. “I’ll be fine once the pills kick in.”

  She shook her head uncertainly and to his chagrin, glanced around and then headed for a room she thought was the bathroom. It turned out to be his expansive bedroom and her eyes widened. “Nice,” she murmured, and then stepped into the master ba
th. She searched the medicine cabinet and found a thermometer.

  She returned and slipped it between his lips when he opened his mouth to protest. “Stop being a baby,” she muttered.

  When she removed the thermometer moments later, she gasped. His temperature was horribly elevated. “Jarrod, you’re burning up!”

  She glanced around the room, and to his surprise, grasped his hand. “What are you doing?” he asked, narrowing his eyes and frowning.

  “I’m taking you to see a doctor.”

  “It’s the weekend. My doctor is probably out on the lake fishing at this very moment.”

  “I saw an urgent care clinic in that … that little town I passed on my way here.” She couldn’t recall the name of the tiny village.

  “Morgan. The village is called Morgan, but I don’t need to see a doctor.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  She studied him with a critical eye, noting his neck appeared swollen and that he repeatedly reached up to touch his right ear. “You may have an ear infection.”

  “And how would you know that?” he asked with unconcealed irritation. “Are you a psychic?”

  “No, actually, you’re the psychic around here,” she muttered, remembering how he seemed to read her mind on several occasions. “And I suspect you have an ear infection because you have both a high fever and like infants with ear infections, you keep reaching up to touch your ear. And you’re as cranky as any infant with an ear infection,” she added.

  His eyes narrowed. “Are you calling me an infant?”

  She shot him a weary look. “If the name fits…”

  “Hey!” He winced suddenly. “My … ear hurts.”

  “You may need antibiotics,” she said, tugging at his arm to force him out of the chair.

  “I don’t want to go,” he moaned.

  “Too bad. Come on.”

  “Can’t you just call for an ambulance,” he said melodramatically. “I don’t feel like driving.”

  “I’m driving! As if you’re fit to be behind a wheel, or at a stakeout,” she grumbled for good measure.

  “No need to get testy,” he griped and followed her to her economy car.

  He dropped into the passenger seat and glanced at her as she belted in behind the wheel. “I’m sorry to be such a bother,” he said contritely, and she shot him a withering glance.

  “I’m sure you’d do the same for me,” she said doubtfully.

  “I’d help you out in a heart beat,” he assured her, shifting in the seat to get comfortable and in order to see her face without twisting his neck awkwardly.

  Within the small space, Summer realized getting comfortable couldn’t be easy for him. His legs were bent at an impossible angle, and he seemed to fill the space, his shoulders practically touching her when he turned back to face forward as she drove.

  They rode in silence and she realized why when she glanced his way. He had fallen asleep, his head tipped against the window glass. She studied him briefly. Even burning up with fever, he was dangerously masculine. She noted how his thick lashes fanned out over his chiseled cheekbones and how his full, well-formed lips practically begged to be kissed. The errant thought caused her to white-knuckle the steering wheel. She raked a hand through her still damp hair, and forced her eyes forward, to the roadway ahead.

  “So you know, I just saw you give me the once over,” he said lazily.

  She shot him a caustic glance. “I was, uh, merely … trying to … discern if you still had a fever.”

  “Uh huh.” He chuckled. “No worries. I was admiring you too.”

  She ignored him, and with relief, steered into the clinic parking lot. Once inside, they checked in, and then found themselves sitting amongst several sick children. Summer noted Jarrod was in a dour mood while the little ones managed to play happily despite their illnesses.

  “What’re they so happy about?” he groused, gesturing toward the tiny tots.

  “Unlike you, they’re brave little soldiers … er, rangers,” she said sweetly.

  He shot her an angry stare and then sighed with relief when a nurse finally called his name. He rose from his seat and Summer settled in with a magazine to wait for him. To her surprise, he turned, shook his head vehemently, and declared, “I’m not going in there by myself!”

  “I’m not going with you,” she whispered, shocked that he’d want her to accompany him.

  He planted himself like a petulant little boy. “No, I mean, I’m not going in there by myself. Doctors make me nervous,” he added with a shudder.

  “Well, you and me both,” she muttered.

  “Ah, another thing we have in common,” he said sweetly. “Come on. Please.”

  The waiting nurse watched the exchange with a curious smile, and then led them back to the exam room after Summer relented and followed them. Inside the room, the nurse told Jarrod to climb onto the exam table, and then she stepped out briefly, only to return and tell him to take his shirt off.

  He shook his head. “My ear hurts, so why do I have to take off my shirt?”

  “The doctor will need to examine you and it’s far easier if your shirt is off,” she told him, before stepping out of the room.

  “This shirt business is a little suspicious,” he snapped as soon as the door closed behind her. “I think she has ulterior motives.”

  “Oh, right. I’m sure that’s it,” Summer said, noting the sparkle of humor in his eyes and laughing to herself. But then she sobered as he shed the shirt, exposing a broad, well-developed chest. The man boasted a six-pack that rivaled those of the male models she’d painted during a college art class. His arms were well-muscled, like bands of steel, and she gulped loudly.

  He noticed her discomfiture and smiled broadly, flexing an arm for her benefit.

  “Stop that,” she told him, biting back a chuckle.

  He flexed the other arm. She burst out laughing then, relieved when the doctor stepped into the room. Jarrod promptly filled the man in on his symptoms, and Summer mentioned his high fever.

  The doctor grimaced when he looked into Jarrod’s ears, and then again when he listened for congestion in his lungs. The elderly physician stepped back, folding his arms across his chest. “Son, you have ear infections in both ears, and I hear some rattling in your chest. You definitely need to start a course of antibiotics.”

  “Doctor,” Summer spoke up, “Jarrod plans on going to work later. Is that a good idea?” she asked, knowing very well it was not.

  He shot her a look of daggers and she smiled sweetly in return.

  The doctor pointed a stern finger at him. “I want you in bed for several days and I’d like to see you back here Wednesday.”

  “But…”

  “No buts,” Summer said, turning to the doctor and nodding obligingly. “He’ll be here.”

  The doctor nodded and left briefly to write out a prescription. When he returned, he passed the prescription to Summer. “See that it’s filled immediately. We want to get him started on antibiotics ASAP—three each day for ten days. We’ll assess how to proceed at the end of the ten days. Hopefully, the infections will be gone and those lungs clear.”

  “Uh, over here,” Jarrod called. “They’re my ears and my lungs,” he pointed out in a surly voice.

  The doctor shot Summer a conspiratorial glance before leaving the room. Jarrod stared at the closed door. “I can’t miss work…”

  “Get dressed,” Summer cut in. “I want you home and in bed.”

  He quirked a brow. “You do, huh?”

  She rolled her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. “I’m not even going to respond to that, Jarrod. I understand you’re surly and combative because you don’t feel well.” She grinned. “Of course, that doesn’t account for all the other times you’ve been surly since I met you.”

  “Hey, in my own defense, I was only surly when I met you that first morning because I was under extreme pressure. I’d just gotten a call about a dead brown bear at Janson Ridge. I really ne
eded to get up there, but I had to deal with you first.” He raised a clarifying finger. “And you were breaking the law, and you were holding my fishing pole. What was I supposed to think?”

  “You could have listened to me,” she pointed out.

  He watched her thoughtfully. “You’re right,” he admitted with a resigned shrug, and then sighed. “If I hadn’t startled you, you wouldn’t have fallen into the lake...”

  “And subsequently gotten sick,” she interjected.

  “Which caused me to get sick,” he said.

  She smiled. “Payback’s a bear.”

  “You ain’t kidding,” he told her, cocking his head to the side and thinking. “I haven’t been sick for as long as I can remember.”

  “Let’s hope it’s a good long while before it happens again,” she said ruefully.

  Back in the car, he turned to her. “Thanks for taking me to the clinic. I really do hate going to the doctor.”

  “Really?” she asked, smiling into his eyes.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” he said. “I’m liable to lean over and kiss you.”

  “Don’t even think about it. I don’t want those germs,” she said with a dramatic shudder. “You’re lucky I’m letting you in my car. Crack that window, by the way.”

  He laughed now. “Is that any way to treat a sick person?” He was silent for a moment, chuckling, but turned to her again and sobered suddenly, his brows furrowing in contemplation. “It feels as if I’ve known you forever, Summer. Does it feel that way to you?”

  “Like an eternity,” she said flippantly.

  “I was being serious,” he told her, reaching for her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

  She shook her hand clear of him and abruptly searched her purse. He watched her curiously as she pulled out a small container of hand sanitizer and doused her hands.

  “Hey, that hurts!” he cried. “I was just trying to convey my heartfelt emotion and you’re treating me as if I’m a walking germ.”

  “You are. Put your hands out,” she instructed, and then doused his hands too. “God only knows what else you might have caught in that clinic, considering your weakened state,” she observed.