“I got it.” Loren took off his apron and hefted one of two trays of food. “Who wants to help carry soup?”
“Me.” Sophie took the second tray from the counter. “This smells delicious. What is it?”
“Mediterranean fish soup,” Loren said.
“Mediterranean? I’ve had bouillabaisse before …”
“Reva mastered this during a summer she spent in Europe. Was it Greece or Italy, babe?”
“Greece,” Reva answered.
“I can’t wait to try it,” Sophie said, breathing in the savory aroma.
She followed Loren through the swinging doors, each carrying trays of soup and Cathy’s fresh bread. As Sophie came around to the kitchen from the back door, it was her first view of the dining room. It was a modestly sized space, with a dozen tables and a bar. The low ceiling gave the room a dark but cozy feel. An unlit fireplace stretched across a good portion of one end, and windows covered the wall with a view of the water.
Roger, Jamie, and the older crewman were just getting settled at a large center table. The two tourists were already there, and two nearly empty beer mugs on the table told her they’d been at it a while.
“There she is.”
One of the tourists, a handsome man with a touch of premature grey at the temples, scooted a chair out for Sophie as she approached. Sophie was surprised. The tourists hadn’t said more than two words to her on the boat.
“We were just saying there’s a definite lack of female company so far in Sitka,” one said.
“The fishing here is great, but no one told us where to socialize,” his shorter friend added.
Sophie put steaming bowls of soup in front of the two men, but wrinkled her nose. The tourists smelled as if they’d been marinated in beer.
“Maybe you could give us some tips on where to go for a good time,” the first one said.
The implication was clear: the men were hoping that Sophie was going to be part of that good time. The alcohol had certainly loosened them up. Maybe they thought she came with the fishing package? She decided to pretend she didn’t know what they were talking about, hopefully give them the hint. “I wouldn’t know. I’m new in town and not really interested in nightlife.”
“Maybe we could figure it out together,” the first man said. “Maybe get some drinks, see if we can find a party somewhere.”
Roger cleared his throat. “Maybe I could set you in the right direction, Brett,” he said to the taller tourist, “depending on what you’re looking for. There’s a sports bar four blocks down the road and a couple of nice sit-down restaurants I could recommend. We’ve got a movie theater, a bowling alley …”
He went on, but the men just looked bored. Loren had included a soup bowl for Sophie on the trays, but she wasn’t even tempted to take the last remaining seat at the table cozied up between the two tourists. She preferred eating in the kitchen so she could visit with Cathy and let Roger deal with these obnoxious men.
She was still passing out food when the shorter man leaned back in his seat, a lecherous look on his face, and his gaze on Sophie’s figure. “Let the girl answer for herself, Captain. She looks like she’s ready for a party.”
Normally Sophie had no trouble ignoring rude men, but apparently not this time. Maybe it was being in a new town that made her feel vulnerable or because she’d had so little sleep the night before or maybe just being the only female in the room; but to Sophie’s horror, she froze in embarrassment.
Jamie, who’d been sitting on the opposite side of the table from the two men, suddenly stood up, took a platter of bread from her tray, and put it on the table. He smiled kindly at Sophie, his bright hazel eyes meeting hers. She relaxed a little, appreciating his attempt at gallantry. He was still wearing the grubby, worn sweatshirt from the morning, but his rain gear was off, and he wore faded, torn jeans.
“Thank you, Jamie.” She smiled at him as she might a child.
“No problem,” he said, and winked at her. She almost dropped the tray, it startled her so much. It was a very flirty, adult sort of a wink, and coming from Jamie, it disoriented her more than the tourists. Was everyone at the table going to hit on her now?
Jamie took the last two soup bowls off the tray. One he placed at his vacated spot, and the other he carried around the table, walking in long strides over to the seat between the tourists. He pulled the empty chair out and sat down to eat, closer to them than looked comfortable for anyone.
“You don’t mind if I take this seat, do you gentlemen?” Jamie said, amiably. “I want to hear all about this Sitka nightlife.”
Sophie stared as the two tourists scooted back to make room for him, but she could see they were still close enough and Jamie’s long legs were long enough that his knees touched theirs.
“Bowling sounds fun, doesn’t it, fellas?” Jamie slurped up some fish soup. “Whew, that’s hot! Tasty, though. I mean, bowling shoes, the challenge of getting the ball to hit the pins … the nachos. I almost forgot about the nachos. Do you like nachos, Bob?”
Jamie downed more soup while he waited for an answer. The tourist he had addressed watched him with mild disgust, and Sophie could see why. That beard was just nasty. Jamie’d had crumbs in it in the morning, and it probably didn’t look better indoors and up close.
“What do you say, Bob? Will it be bowling and nachos, or maybe you’re more of a movie guy? I hear the latest Dumb Stunts movie finally made it to Sitka. Is that more your style, Bob?”
Loren nudged Sophie. He looked amused. His tray was empty, so he took her tray and headed to the kitchen. Unsure what to do, and not sure what to think of this fisherman she’d pegged as slow who was clearly not, Sophie sat down at Jamie’s vacated spot.
The tourist finally said, “It’s Brett.”
“What’s that?” Jamie leaned a little closer, and Brett leaned back, grimacing.
“I said, my name is Brett, not Bob.”
“Is that right?” Jamie asked.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s right. You know, you’re getting soup in your …” Brett put his hand up to his own chin to indicate a beard.
“In my …” Jamie’s hand went to his beard. His eyes were wide. “Is that right?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve got soup in my beard, do I, Bob?”
“Brett.”
“Huh.” Jamie put down his bowl and sat back in his seat. He just stared at the man, a steely look on his face that told Brett—and everyone else at the table—that it was time for the tourists to leave.
Sophie’s heart was pounding. Her initial worry about Jamie being dangerous returned. She felt horrible that this threat of violence hung in the air because Jamie was—apparently—defending her. She held her breath, waiting to see what would happen next. This didn’t feel like a good start to her time in Sitka.
Brett, the tourist, was clearly intimidated by Jamie’s command of the situation, and his friend followed his lead. Sophie couldn’t blame them. Brett turned to Roger and tried one more time to assert himself. “Is this the way you let your employees talk to your guests? Because I paid good money …”
Roger’s arms were folded, and he slowly shook his head. “If you’re not happy with the service, Brett, we can refund your money.” His eyes flicked at Jamie. “Or … not get a refund, since you’ve already gotten what you paid for,” Roger said. “In fact, it might be best if you just let us know where you want your catch shipped, and we’ll call it a day.”
What was that all about? Sophie wondered. She decided it was time to leave, so she scooped up her still-full soup bowl and quickly made her way back through the kitchen doors.
Cathy, Reva, and Loren all looked up expectantly at her entrance. “Getting hot out there?” Loren teased.
Sophie placed her fish soup on the counter. “Tell me about Jamie,” she half whispered.
The other three looked at each other, suddenly uncomfortable. “What do you mean?” Cathy asked. “What do you want to know?”
“He just … he came to my rescue out there.”
“He did?” Cathy was tentative. “That’s nice.”
“He was very … articulate. And quick.”
Again, uncomfortable glances passed between the other three. “Is there a reason he shouldn’t be?” Cathy asked.
“I thought he was … This morning, he was so quiet, and didn’t say much. He was nice, but … And he’s so grubby …” How could she say it? Especially if he wasn’t someone with special needs; especially if he really was an intelligent, healthy, possibly flirtatious man. And this morning she’d put her hand on his knee … Sophie’s hand went to her mouth in embarrassment.
“You thought he was … what?” Reva asked.
Loren suddenly got it and laughed harder than Sophie thought a man of his slight build was capable of. “You thought Jamie was learning disabled? Oh, that’s rich!”
Cathy’s eyes went wide. “Why in the world did you think that?”
Blushing deeply, Sophie said, “Well, this morning! He acted like he didn’t understand things. He talked like a child, sort of. Or I thought he did. And … he clearly doesn’t groom himself, or bathe …”
Jamie, the topic of conversation, chose that moment to push through the kitchen doors. “Well, that was fun.” He crossed the kitchen in energetic strides, putting his empty bowl in the sink. “I’m thinking we won’t be bothered by those particular tourists again. They’re gone.”
Loren was still doubled over with laughter. In fact, only Sophie didn’t look amused. She openly stared at Jamie, unable to decipher this quirky Alaskan.
“You’ll never guess,” Loren managed to get out. “Sophie here … Sophie thought … Oh, I’ve got a cramp! You’ll never believe it.”
“Loren,” Cathy loudly shushed him. “No need to explain.”
Jamie looked from one person to another, and finally settled on Sophie. “Whoops, cat’s out of the bag,” he said.
“What cat?” Her voice was nearly a croak.
Jamie, with his bright eyes and creepy beard, walked right up to her, quite close, in fact. She was beginning to think he didn’t understand personal boundaries. “I guess when I told off those jerks, I told on me, too,” he said. “Didn’t I?”
“I don’t know what—” Sophie began.
“This morning. You thought I wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box, am I right?”
Sophie was mortified, and felt herself cringe inwardly, ready to defend her first thoughts of him. Weren’t her conclusions justified? He had given off a poor first impression, after all.
But here he was, speaking openly to her, addressing the issue at hand. However embarrassed she was, she had to appreciate that he came right out and spoke to her. She stood up a little taller, swallowed her embarrassment the best she could, and decided to address him straight on, too. “‘Maternity need’?” she asked.
He chuckled. “I apologize for that. It was deceptive. You were condescending, though, so I decided to play along.”
“I wasn’t being condescending; I was being helpful.”
“That’s a matter of perspective.” Jamie smiled down at her.
It was so odd; in just minutes she’d gone from thinking he was delayed and looked like a homeless person, to seeing he was an articulate, quick-thinking problem solver, someone who took charge when the need arose, and … well, he still looked homeless. What she just couldn’t wrap her head around was how someone like that was making her go hot from her head to her toes. With that nasty beard and grubby clothes, he wasn’t exactly a heartthrob.
Although she did notice that even in genuinely old, torn Levi’s, Jamie looked good.
“Anyway …” His attention suddenly shifted from Sophie to his watch. “I have to go. I received a call that needs attention. I’ll see you all later,” he said to the room in general, but his eyes had moved back to Sophie, and remained there until he left out the back door.
Cathy followed close behind at a quick waddle, but only opened the door and called to him, “Jamie, get that beard trimmed! You look like a vagrant.”
4
“Hey, wait up!”
Jamie glanced over his shoulder at Roger, who was jogging up behind him. Jamie didn’t slow down.
“You okay?” Roger asked when he’d caught up. “Those guys got you a little hot under the collar.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Rain was starting to soak through his ratty sweatshirt, and he wished he hadn’t left his rain gear behind. If he really was going to walk all the way from the lodge to the harbor, he’d be good and soaked by the time he got there. Might be just what he needed to cool himself off.
“Anything you want to talk about?” Roger asked.
“Not really. Except …” Jamie stopped abruptly and faced Roger, who pulled to a stop to face him. Roger wore a worried expression. “Were you really just going to let those jerks talk to her that way?”
“I wasn’t,” Roger said. “I was trying to, you know, redirect them.”
“It wasn’t working.”
Roger looked at his feet and scratched behind one ear. “I would have stopped them. I wouldn’t have let it go any farther. I was thinking of the business. I try to keep from having guys like that go home and tell their friends—”
“Not to fish Sitka Sound Fishing? Good! Their friends are probably jerks, too. We don’t need customers like that. They’re no fun to work with, especially when they aren’t that into fishing.” He started walking again, and Roger kept right up with him.
“Sophie’s fine,” Roger huffed. “You saw her in the kitchen. She grew up in the city. I’m sure she’s had to deal with a lot of mouthy guys. I think more than anything, she’s not sure what to think of you.”
Jamie snorted a laugh. “Yeah, I’d say that part was worth it. Getting to see that look on her face.”
“What are you playing at, Jamie?”
“Nothing.”
“Sophie’s family, Jamie. She’s dealing with losing her mom and her business. She’s still raw, you can see it. If you think you’re going to entertain yourself by confusing her—”
“I’m not playing games, Roger. When have you known me to do that? Sophie …” He paused, realizing it was the first time he’d said her name and how good it felt saying it. “Sophie … is nice. She’s genuine. The look on her face this morning when she saw that whale. Pure joy, no pretenses. And you know, she was so sweet when she thought she was talking to someone with delayed mental abilities.”
“I’m not sure she wasn’t,” Roger muttered.
Jamie wiped rain from his brow, flipping his long, wet hair back. It was starting to drip pretty heavily into his vision. “I confess, at first I was just messing with her.”
“No kidding.”
“It was pretty funny, you’ve got to admit.” When Roger didn’t admit it, Jamie continued. “I meant no offence, Roger. You told me she’d been through a lot; I should have listened. I’ll be nice. Promise.”
Roger nodded, looking at the ground. They stood there in silence a moment. “Jamie, you know Cathy and I don’t tell people—”
“I know.”
“Pretty much everyone in town knows; they just know not to talk about it.”
“I appreciate that.”
Roger hesitated, so Jamie answered the unasked question. “Her being here’s only temporary, right? I don’t … I’d rather she not know.”
“Okay,” Roger said. “Any particular reason besides that?”
How was Jamie supposed to express what he didn’t understand himself? “No. I would just rather you don’t tell her. I’m asking you not to tell her.”
Whatever Roger’s thoughts, he only nodded. Jamie looked out toward the choppy grey water, frustrated. He wasn’t used to explaining himself, but Roger had been a good friend.
“I guess what I’m saying,” Jamie said, again tossing his now drenched hair back, “is that I don’t know her yet. Maybe she could be nice to a disabled person, but maybe I don’t want to
find out if her charity would extend to … me.”
“I see.”
Whatever Roger’s opinions were beyond that, he didn’t offer them. An awkward silence mingled with the rain. There wasn’t much of a sidewalk, and when a truck passed by and blew through a puddle on the road, it soaked them both even more. Neither man moved when the water hit; there was no point. Roger was wearing rain gear, and Jamie was already drenched.
Roger said, “So, you still planning on walking all the way to the harbor? Or I could go get the truck and—”
“Yeah. I really don’t have time for this.”
Roger nodded. “Be right back.”
While the older man headed back to the lodge, Jamie returned to splashing his way toward the harbor. Roger would be a few minutes with the truck. Jamie may not have to walk all the way, but he found he still had some heat to walk off. He told himself it was because those tourists had really ticked him off, but it was more pleasant thoughts that fueled his energy. Sophie really did seem nice. And her name was nice. And she looked really cute in yellow rain gear with her hair pulled up on her head. And her beautiful, dark eyes when that whale popped up …
Yeah, Jamie had something more pleasant than dumb tourists on his mind.
5
In the days since she’d arrived in Sitka, Sophie still hadn’t seen the sun. Every day had been cloudy and often rainy, and it was August. She’d agreed to six months in Alaska. What had she gotten herself into?
“We do have sunny days,” Cathy assured her. They were driving along Sitka Sound from the lodge to the new bakery site. “All this green comes with a price, and that price is rain.”
“I remember sunny days here.” Sophie gazed out at the choppy grey sound and the spiky trees on the islands across the water. “I remember going with all the cousins on Uncle Bob’s boat. We’d go to this beach somewhere and just spend the day.”
“I remember that,” Cathy said. “He used to take everyone who fit on the boat to that place up north—I can’t remember what it’s called. I miss ole Bob. He was a happy soul.”
The Angler, the Baker, and the Billionaire (Destination Billionaire Romance) Page 3