Jake's Biggest Risk (Those Hollister Boys) (7 page)

“Mr. Hollister? I’m Owen Kershaw, your physical therapist, here for our eleven o’clock appointment.”

Crap
.

Jake belatedly remembered his first rehab session was that morning. He was tempted to say he didn’t feel like company, but he’d never get better if he didn’t work his ass off.

“Uh, hello. Please call me Jake.”

Owen didn’t try shaking hands, he marched in with his bag and a folding table and motioned toward the kitchen. “I noticed a room with lots of windows on that side of the house. Is there enough space to work in there?”

“Probably.”

“Excellent. We’ll have to be prompt about starting and ending our sessions. I scheduled extra time today because it’s your first appointment, but from now on I’ll need to leave shortly after twelve so I can be back at the clinic by one.”

He walked toward the sunroom as Jake snorted. Why was the guy so uptight about coming to the lodge? He was getting paid well for the extra travel time.

Owen disappeared into the kitchen. “What is this?” he demanded a moment later.

Jake limped through the swinging door and saw the therapist pointing to the cinnamon toast with an accusing finger. “Breakfast.”

“It’s eleven o’clock. You haven’t eaten yet?”

“What’s the big deal?”

“Nutrition. The bread is fine—that particular brand is made from whole grain without a bunch of crap added to it. But sugar and butter won’t help your body heal and rebuild muscle. You need protein and fruits and vegetables, as well as whole grains.”

“Whatever.” Jake grabbed the bread bag and the plate of toast and shoved them into the refrigerator. Okay, he’d known cinnamon toast wasn’t the best meal in the world, but he could order a vegetarian pizza later in the day to make up for it. “Let’s get busy.”

Owen pulled something from his bag and handed it to him. “Eat this first. It’s a protein bar.”

Two hours later Jake was soaked with sweat and feeling as if he’d gone mountain climbing. He was also grateful for the protein bar, however hideous it had tasted. Not that the exercises had been as strenuous as hiking across an ice field loaded down with photographic equipment, but they were proof that he had a long way to go in his recovery.

“Excellent,” Owen said, smiling for the first time. “Some of my patients find it difficult doing what I ask, but the real proof will be whether you do the exercises between our sessions.”

“I’ll do them.” Jake wiped his face, perspiring as much from pain as from the workout. But he didn’t want to take a pill; the damned painkillers messed with his head. The hot tub, on the other hand...

While he wasn’t wild about many parts of the industrial world, the hot tub was a guilty pleasure. Sliding into the warm, swirling water when his body ached was one of the things he actually enjoyed here at Huckleberry Lodge. Sheltered from wind by Plexiglas on the railings, the private deck off the master bedroom still had a view of the lake, and at night, with the lights off, he could almost imagine he was in a natural hot spring, somewhere far away.

Through the window he saw Hannah come down her steps and cross to the lodge with Danny alongside. She was carrying a large bag, probably containing the sheets and towels she’d taken on Tuesday. Jake locked gazes with her as they came up the back steps to the sunroom.

“Come in,” he called.

Hannah opened the door and smiled when she saw Owen Kershaw. “Hi, Owen, remember me?”

The therapist grinned. “Hannah Nolan. Of course I remember. Your great-aunt was one of my favorite patients. What are you doing here?”

“This was Great-Aunt Elkie’s house. She passed away after I graduated from college and left Huckleberry Lodge to me. I’ve leased it to Jake. Owen, this is my son, Danny.”

“Hi, Danny.” Owen shook hands with the youngster. “I have something for you,” he said, and pulled something out of his athletic bag that looked like a tropical clown fish.

“That’s just like Nemo,” Danny declared.

“It’s made from a special kind of sponge rubber. My patients squeeze them to build strength in their hands and arms,” Owen explained, and Danny promptly began squeezing the toy with all his might.

“Does everybody know each other in Mahalaton Lake and Lower Mahalaton?” Jake asked.

Hannah shrugged. “No, but Owen works at the only rehab center in fifty miles—anybody who’s ever needed physical therapy has gone there. My great-aunt broke her hip when I was sixteen and stayed at the center for several weeks, then we drove down for her physical therapy sessions. That was when she put in the hot tub.”

“Hot tub?” Owen looked concerned. “I have questions about the chemicals they require, so just be sure to shower after using it.”

Jake was glad the therapist hadn’t tried to stop him.
No way
would he give up the hot tub. It might feel strange to enjoy something so far out of his chosen lifestyle, but it was better than the alternative.

“It doesn’t use chemicals—it has one of those reverse osmosis cleaning systems. And it’s serviced regularly,” Hannah assured. “I see you’re wearing a wedding ring. Do you have kids?”

The therapist’s face lit up. “We’ve got two boys who run us ragged. They’re four and five. And Cheryl is pregnant again. If you’re interested, I’ll bring pictures the next time I’m here.”

“I’d love to see them.”

Owen looked at his watch and picked up his bag and the folding table. “I’m late. It was a pleasure meeting you, Danny. Take care, Hannah.”

“You, too.”

“I’ll be back at eleven on Tuesday,” Owen said to Jake.

“Nemo?” Jake asked Hannah when the other man was gone.

“He’s a character in an animated movie, about a little clown fish and its father. One of Danny’s favorites.”

“Nemo gets kidnapped and his dad goes looking for him through the
whole
ocean,” Danny said. “Mommy, do you think my daddy is looking for me? Maybe he got lost and doesn’t remember where we live.”

Hannah’s face froze. “Your father isn’t... That is, he knows we’re here in Mahalaton Lake. He just travels a lot. Now we need to start cleaning the house.”

Danny stuck the toy in his pocket. “I’ll get the trash. That’s
my
job.”

When he was gone, Hannah put her chin up with an air of defiance as she turned to Jake. “You said it was all right to bring him, and he likes to feel he’s helping me.”

Exhausted, Jake sank down on a chair. “It’s fine. Does Danny ask about his father much?”

“He’s starting to more and more. But how do you explain to a seven-year-old boy that his dad is a womanizing ba...” She stopped and visibly drew a breath. “Never mind.”

“Sure. Oh, did Danny give you the money for the loaf of bread?”

A flicker of emotion crossed her face, though he couldn’t guess the reason. “Yes.”

“I appreciate him bringing it over. I started thinking about it afterward and realized I should have asked first. He also brought me some chicken. Thank you.”

“Thank Danny. It was entirely his idea. Now, please excuse me, I have work to do.”

Jake decided this wasn’t the right time to ask about the grocery shopping. He slumped deeper in his chair and closed his eyes, his body throbbing with the effort he’d put into the therapy. But he refused to lie down. Given their testy relationship, he didn’t want to appear weak in front of Hannah. Or maybe it was the age-old vanity of men in most societies, hating to appear less than virile in front of a woman. Especially such a beautiful woman.

There were noises around the house now. Domestic noises. Very different from what he’d hear in the highland villages of Nepal above Kathmandu, or deep in the Amazon. Yet it seemed as if there was a common rhythm to housework. Sweeping. Washing. Tidying. Even Danny’s voice, asking his mother what else he could do, wasn’t unlike the chatter of children in the dozens of cultures Jake had experienced from the day he was born.

It was better than the silence of the past few days, he thought, and far better than the echoes of the plane crash that still roared in his ears at the oddest moments.

* * *

T
HE
TWO
PIZZA
boxes Jake had said to leave on Tuesday were on the kitchen floor, and Hannah stuffed them in a bag. Danny cheerfully took the bag out to the garbage cans.

Sugar was spilled across the counter and onto the floor as well, and she swept it up, thinking of what Gwen had said about some artists being slobs.

Maybe, maybe not.

However, it appeared that if something fell on the floor, Jake simply left it there, and she found it hard to believe that was a common custom in other parts of the world. Of course, it
could
be because of his injuries—it might be hard to bend over and pick something up. But when she went into the bathroom and saw the mess on the countertops and sinks, Hannah decided to go with slob.

She scrubbed everything, keeping Andy Bedard’s comments in mind about the need to keep everything sanitized. Andy was nice, a regular mother hen. And unlike some of the skiers who’d rented the lodge in the past, he and his guests always left things in good order.

After two hours, Hannah tied the dirty linens into a bundle, belatedly realizing she hadn’t seen Danny in a while. She found him sitting cross-legged on the couch in the sunroom, listening to her tenant recount a story about trekking into the Australian outback. Danny’s eyes were round with excitement as Jake described hanging over the water from a tree branch, taking photos of prowling crocodiles who’d like nothing better than to have him for lunch.

“Were you scared?” he asked.

Jake shrugged carelessly. “Not really.”

“I bet they could bite me in half.”

“Maybe not in half, but they’ve got really powerful jaws and can drag a grown man under—”

“Danny, I’m done. Can you take the laundry over to our house?” Hannah interrupted hastily.

“Okay,” Danny agreed, though he looked torn.

When he’d clattered down the steps from the sunroom, Hannah turned to Jake. “Look, I appreciate your being friendly to my son, but he’s prone to nightmares. Besides, a child his age doesn’t need to know the details of how a crocodile could kill him.”

“Hey, I saw my first wild croc when I was four,” Jake said defensively, though he also seemed to be embarrassed. “It never gave me nightmares. And after that we spent several months on an African savannah while Josie photographed a lion pride.”

“Josie?”

“My mother.”

“Okay, fine. That was her decision. But I’m worried about Danny waking up at two in the morning, screaming bloody murder because he thinks a crocodile has climbed into his bed.”

Jake winced. “Sorry. I don’t know anything about kids.”

“I understand that, but please keep in mind that certain things shouldn’t be talked about in front of an impressionable child. Besides, I bet you
did
have nightmares—you just don’t remember.”

“If I did, they obviously didn’t scar me for life.”

Hannah clamped her mouth shut. Being scarred for life was a matter of opinion. Jake seemed to lead a solitary existence where taking high-risk photographs was more important than human contact. Perhaps she was biased, but even the greatest photograph in the world wasn’t worth dying to get.

CHAPTER FIVE

I
T
WAS
A
QUIET
Friday afternoon at Luigi’s, and Barbi opened one of the books Hannah had given her to study. She chewed her lip, knowing she should give as much attention to math and proper English as other subjects, but history was a lot more interesting than adverbs and dangling participles.

“Good, you’re studying,” Luigi said with approval. He was a nice boss. If she could make enough money working for him to live on, it wouldn’t be so important to get her GED.

Wrong,
whispered a voice inside her head. She couldn’t keep working for Luigi; she had to get out of Mahalaton Lake. When her father wasn’t in jail for drunk and disorderly behavior or boozing it up at the bar, he was coming over to her place, demanding money or getting maudlin over her mother’s death.

She tried not to carry more than twenty bucks in her wallet, but it helped to have a little cash because Vic got ugly if she didn’t have
any...
especially when she’d been delivering pizza. Her father knew she ought to have tips on delivery nights, though he didn’t know she’d started leaving most of them at the restaurant until she could get to the bank the next morning.

She
tried
to say no when he wanted money, but he’d just knock her down and go through her purse. She might be able to press charges against him, only how could she do that to her father?

And to be honest, she was scared to death of him.

Barbi looked at the bruises where Vic had grabbed her wrist the night before—he was a mean drunk. She shoved her bangles over the marks, her heart aching more than her sore wrist. It hadn’t always been like this. Before her mom died, Vic had laughed a lot, worked steadily and only drank an occasional beer. But it was as if something inside him had broken when they’d buried her mother. Hell, he wasn’t the
only
one who’d been hurt when Rachael Paulson died; he didn’t have to dive into a vodka bottle and stop being a dad because of it.

Sighing, she turned a page of the history book. It was the section on the American Revolution and she needed to memorize the dates. Learning the information wasn’t the problem, it was having her mind go blank when she took the test.

She was deep in the story of Benjamin Franklin’s visit to Paris in 1776 when Luigi called to her.

“Two giant pies for Huckleberry Lodge, Barbara.”

“Okay. Is one for Hannah and Danny?”

“Both are for Mr. Hollister. He never asks for any of my other dishes. No tortellini a’Luigi, or parmigiana, or even antipasto.”

“Officially we only deliver pizza,” Barbi reminded him as she lifted the insulated bag that kept the pizzas hot.

“He could ask,” Luigi said with a sniff. He could get huffy about his cooking, though never in front of a customer—not that he got many complaints about the food. The winter skiers ate dozens of take-out and delivery pizzas every day, but they also crowded into the Tuscan dining room, declaring it the best Italian this side of Rome. The tourist trade was lighter in the summer, but they still stayed pretty busy.

Barbi drove out to Huckleberry Lodge and parked. Jake had told her to always just come in, so she pushed the front door open and called out, “Hey, it’s me. I got your food.”

“In here.” He was in the sunroom, looking tired as he lifted hand weights, a sheen of sweat on his face and bare chest. She put the pizzas on a side table next to him. He extracted four twenties from the pocket of his jeans and handed them to her. “Keep the change.”

“Ya sure, Jake? That’s a pretty big tip.” She asked every time he gave her a bunch of cash, because as much as she liked getting over thirty dollars, it almost seemed indecent to get that much for delivering two pizzas.

“It’s worth every penny.”

“I’d come even if you didn’t tip me,” Barbi said seriously. “That’s my job.”

Jake shrugged and flexed his leg in another exercise. “The lodge is several miles from town. It costs you extra in gas to drive out here, and you might lose tips from other customers.”

She fidgeted for a second. “I’ve been thinking, you can ask Luigi for a dish from the regular menu if you want. I don’t think he’d mind. He’s real proud of his tortellini a’Luigi, and it’s awful good.”

“Yeah?” Jake seemed surprised. “Hannah mentioned making a special request, but I figured that was for locals.”

“You’re a local now. And don’t tell Luigi I said so, but he’s a teddy bear at heart. I bet he’d like you asking for something else.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Pizza’s just easy. Anyhow, keep the money.”

“Okay, if you’re sure. Just so you know, you can also give Luigi a credit card number if you want.” She tucked the cash in the hip pouch she used to make change for customers and automatically checked her cell phone. Luigi always sent a text message when an order came in for a delivery pizza, but it had been a slow night.

A car drove up as Barbi walked out. It was Brendan’s silver Lexus, and she loved his sour expression as he looked at her old Chevy. So it wasn’t a Lexus. It was reliable, got decent gas mileage and didn’t cost her a gazillion dollars to insure. Besides, she could do a bunch of the repairs herself. At a guess, Brendan had never
looked
beneath the hood of his Lexus, much less gotten his hands dirty changing the oil.

“Hiya, Brendan,” she called as he got out. Wonder of wonders, he wasn’t wearing a suit, but his dress pants and long-sleeved shirt weren’t a big improvement.

“Barbi. Are you here to see Hannah?”

There was a whole bunch of criticism in the way he said her name. Usually she didn’t let it bother her, but today it was especially annoying. Maybe it was the difference between Brendan and Jake Hollister. She enjoyed delivering food to Jake. He was sexy and gave humongous tips without being stuck-up about it or flirting with her. Brendan was an okay tipper, but he was so damned snooty she wanted to kick his butt.

“I’m working. What are
you
doing here?”

A look crossed his face, as if he thought she was being presumptuous. She hoped he’d say something about it so she could point out that he’d asked first.

“I’m taking Hannah and Danny out to dinner and a movie.”

“I hope it’s food a kid would like,” she said. “You know, not stuffed peppers or eggplant.”

A red flush crept up his neck. It was a rotten thing to say, since she knew he’d brought eggplant the night she’d come for her first tutoring session with Hannah. Danny had grumbled about it the entire evening. Poor kid, he didn’t like Brendan any better than he liked eggplant.

“Not that it’s your business, but I’m taking them to a Greek restaurant down in Lower Mahalaton,” he replied stiffly.

“Don’t push those grape-leaf things on him, either,” she warned. “Danny enjoys things like plain cheese pizza and chicken. He wants ordinary salad with bits of carrots and cabbage, not beet greens or other fancy crap.”

God forbid that Brendan ask
Danny
where he’d like to eat. For that matter, he probably hadn’t talked to Hannah about it, either. Still, Barbi kept getting the feeling that beneath Brendan’s high-and-mighty attitude, he might not be so bad; he might even be sexy with a little help.

Not that it mattered, since she was leaving Mahalaton Lake as soon as she could. Besides, he was hung up on Hannah.

“Children should be encouraged to expand their horizons.” It sounded as if he was quoting something he’d read and she rolled her eyes.

“Give me a break,” she said. “Danny’s horizons are up to Hannah.”

Brendan appeared uncomfortable again. “I’m not trying to step on Hannah’s toes, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Okay, but what do you know about expanded horizons? You hardly wear anything but those stuffy suits. This is Mahalaton Lake, not Boston or Seattle. Hell, you look as though you just stopped to ask directions back to the city, not like you live here.”

“That’s ridiculous. There’s nothing wrong with having certain standards for dressing and behaving.”

“Standards?” She crossed her arms across her chest and nearly laughed when he focused on her cleavage. “What you really want is to stand out from the local lumberjacks and ski-lift operators. What’s wrong—afraid you’ll be mistaken for an everyday guy who works with his hands?”

His mouth dropped. “I’m not a snob. I respect people employed in those kinds of positions.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“It’s true,” he insisted. “My uncle has worked in the Miami maintenance department his entire life. He’s a great guy.”

“But you became a lawyer.”

“What’s wrong with that? I like the law. We’ve been lawyers for over two hundred years in my father’s family. Townsend & Associates is a prestigious law firm back in Boston.”

“Then why aren’t you in Boston?”

“Because I’m here, that’s why.” His tone plainly said it was none of her business. “But it’s a top firm. One of our ancestors even practiced law with John Adams.”

“I’m not sure I’d brag about that,” Barbi advised. “Didn’t everybody in Boston get mad at John Adams for defending British soldiers on murder charges in 1770?”

Brendon’s eyes widened. “How do you know that?”

“It’s in the history books, or don’t you think I can read?”

“I never said anything of the kind.”

“You implied it. I bet you don’t work for your family because you’re too conservative.”

Brendan scowled. “I happen to be far more liberal than my family.”

“Ooh, that’s scary. You won’t even experiment with pizza. It’s always the same—sausage, olives and onions.”

“I suppose you have better ideas?”

“Pepperoni, mushrooms and artichoke hearts,” she said promptly.

He wrinkled his nose. “
Ugh
. Artichoke hearts?”

“You don’t know until you’ve tried it, which you obviously won’t. Hell, try anything new. I bet you haven’t even made friends with anyone except Hannah.”

A door opening nearby distracted Barbi, and she saw Jake coming down the steps from the sunroom. He still seemed tired, but at the moment he was grinning broadly.

“Don’t mind me,” he called. “I’m just getting some fresh air.”

“You need fresh air with all those windows?” Brendan gestured toward the sunroom, where most of the windows were wide-open.

Jake shrugged. “I’m used to being outside most of the time.” He came forward and put out his hand. “Hello, I’m Jake Hollister. We weren’t formally introduced when you visited Hannah last week.”

* * *

B
RENDAN
SHOOK
THE
newcomer’s hand. “Brendan Townsend, attorney at law,” he returned coolly. “I didn’t realize people were that formal in the places you’ve lived.”

“Every place has its customs. Even the United States, as Hannah has pointed out.”

“Hannah is a
very
special friend of mine,” Brendan warned, remembering that Hannah wasn’t too happy with her new tenant. “I helped write her lease agreement paperwork and wouldn’t like her to be dissatisfied about how things are working out here.”

Jake smiled. “In some cultures, they don’t waste time with veiled threats—they just say what they think. Others are too polite to say anything, no matter how they feel. I guess you’re somewhere in the middle.”

Brendan glared at Barbi when she laughed. She was impossible. And why had he told her about his family in Boston?

Once he
had
planned to join the family law practice—it was a Townsend tradition. Both his older sisters were partners, and he had four cousins who were either associates or partners, as well. Everybody had expected him to return, but when a prominent firm in Seattle had recruited him out of Harvard Law School, Brendan had accepted...much to his parents’ dismay. Yet it was his move to Mahalaton Lake that had appalled them the most. Townsends did
not
take breaks from big-city success—they were expected to die at their desks, not in their beds.

He’d never told anyone, but deep down he’d resented his father’s work habits when he was a kid. Oliver Townsend had never attended a single school event for his children—even their high school and college graduation ceremonies had taken a backseat to the family law firm.

Brendan set his jaw at the memories. He’d been determined not to become like Oliver, yet it had happened anyway. It wasn’t until he’d lost Maria that he’d woken up and seen what he was doing. He still wasn’t sure that moving to Mahalaton Lake was the answer, but it was better than doing nothing.

“I wasn’t making threats, I’m simply protecting Hannah’s interests,” he declared.

Hollister chuckled. “From what I’ve seen, Hannah can take care of herself.”

“That’s right. Oops, I gotta get back to Luigi’s,” Barbi said when her cell phone beeped. “Thanks again for the tip, Jake. See ya next time. Don’t forget what I said about asking for something from the regular menu.”

Brendan watched as she got into her faded yellow Chevy and drove off. He supposed it didn’t matter where he lived, there would always be people who got on his nerves. It was the same for everyone. Barbi just happened to be one of those people for him.

“Hi, Brendan,” Hannah called as she came out of her house a moment later, her cheeks flushed a healthy pink. “Was that Barbi I heard leaving?”

“Yeah, I ordered pizza,” Jake explained before Brendan could say anything.

“Oh.”

Hannah’s expression when she looked down at Jake Hollister was distinctly wary. “Is there anything you need?” she asked him.

“Nope, I just wondered if you want to use the hot tub later. Danny mentioned you like it.”

Hot tub?
Brendan stiffened.

“I wouldn’t dream of imposing,” she said coolly.

“You’re welcome to use it whenever you want.”

Brendan saw an amused gleam in Jake Hollister’s eye and for the first time in his life wanted to land a punch. Instead he grabbed the bouquet of flowers he’d brought and trotted up the steps to Hannah’s porch. Starting a brawl was hardly the way to convince her that he was a decent guy who had nothing in common with her ex-husband. He figured her ex was the reason she was so cautious, wanting their relationship to move slowly.