The Rogue Hunter (10 page)

Telling herself it was all her own fault for not taking care of the ear issue when she should have, Sam set about opening the tank vent on the outboard motor. Once she'd finished prepping the engine, she forced a smile to her lips that probably came out as more of a grimace, and glanced around to see who else was joining them.

The answer was no one. The dock was empty. Everyone else had followed Alex onto the speedboat, taking the cooler with them.

"Must be my deodorant," Sam muttered with disgust as she turned back to prime the engine, but knew it wasn't true. The
Goldie
was the cooler of the two boats. She'd have taken it herself had Alex not beaten her to the punch.

"Would you like me to do that?" Mortimer asked with concern when she grabbed at the starter cord and pulled it out with no effect.

"No, thank you, I…" Her voice died as he was suddenly there, urging her out of the way so that he could pull the cord for her. Of course, it started on the first tug for him. She'd warmed it up for him, Sam told herself, muttering a thank-you as she reduced the choke and throttle while he moved back to the center bench.

Hanging on to the tiller handle, she leaned to the side and quickly untied the back rope fastening them to the dock. The boat tilted a little wildly in the water as Mortimer immediately jumped up and moved to the bow to take care of that rope.

Sam closed her eyes against the dizziness that immediately swamped her, but then forced them open again and managed a somewhat sickly smile as Mortimer moved back to his seat, sending the boat bobbing about again. Apparently her smile wasn't very convincing, because his expression immediately became concerned again.

"Is everything all right? Do you want me to drive?"

"No," Sam said at once, and then asked curiously, "Do you have a pleasure craft operator's license?"

"A what?" He looked startled.

"I gather that means you don't," she said with amusement, and then informed him, "You have to have a license to captain a boat here in Canada."

"Dear God, they license everything nowadays," he muttered with a shake of the head.

Sam smiled faintly and then said, "If you want a life jacket, there are two under your bench there."

Mortimer glanced down to see the glowing orange life jackets they always kept on board. He shook his head, however. "No thank you; I trust your driving."

Sam shrugged. She didn't like wearing one herself.

"See you later guys! Much later," Alex taunted.

Sam glanced over just in time to see Alex throttle the
Goldie
and send her shooting away from the dock. Eyes narrowing, she took up the challenge and throttled the aluminum boat's engine, sending her own
craft
shooting forward.

"I'm sorry!" she cried, throttling back immediately when Mortimer, not expecting the action, slid off his seat and onto his butt on the bottom of the boat.

"Don't worry about me," he yelled back, dragging himself back onto the bench. "That was a challenge if I ever heard one."

Sam glanced after the speeding boat with longing, but shook her head. "This engine is powerful, but not as powerful as the
Goldie's
."

"Maybe," he agreed. "But we don't have four people and a heavy cooler on board either."

Mouth widening into a smile, Sam nodded. "Hold on!" she warned, and sent them shooting forward again. She ran the engine full out and managed to catch up to the other boat about halfway along the lake to the Andersons. She and Mortimer both waved gaily at the occupants of the other boat as they pulled alongside. They couldn't hear the answering boos and disparaging shouts over the engine's roar, but their expressions and gestures were telling enough. Sam and Mortimer shared triumphant grins as they pulled out in front, widening the distance between the two boats. The fishing boat might not normally be as fast, and she certainly wasn't as pretty, but she'd won that race for them, Sam thought affectionately, and almost gave the old boat a pat.

"There's only room for one boat," Mortimer pointed out, his concerned gaze moving over the ninety-foot, L-shaped dock and the boats all bobbing alongside it as she throttled down.

"Alex can tie Goldie to us," Sam said with unconcern as she steered them toward the last open spot. It was a common enough occurrence. In another hour or so there would be several boats tied off others, and some with three or even four boats off them.

Mortimer reached out, preparing to keep them from bumping into the dock, and shook his head as he took in the scene. "This is one huge dock."

Sam chuckled at his amazement. It
was
a huge dock, five times bigger than the next largest dock on the lake, but it had grown slowly over time. Jack Anderson added another ten feet every couple of years as the size of his parties grew.

"How many people come to these parties?" Mortimer asked, his gaze moving with amazement over the mass of bodies milling around the huge glowing fire on shore as Sam shut off the engine and they coasted the last few feet up to the dock.

"Pretty much everyone on the lake and several from neighboring lakes have been here at one time or other," she said, leaning to the side to grab the dock even as he did. "Jack makes them open parties. That way no one complains about the noise."

"They don't seem that noisy to me."

"The power's out," she reminded him. "Normally we would have heard the music from our cottage. As it is, they're reduced to strumming guitars or battery-operated radios that won't play as loud."

Mortimer nodded, and they both fell silent as they tied up to the dock. Once done, he helped her onto the dock, and they both paused and turned back to watch as the
Goldie
approached.

"All right, all right, go ahead and rub it in! You beat us," Alex called as the
Goldie
coasted up beside the fishing boat, and Decker and Bricker worked to secure the slightly larger boat to the smaller one.

"Would I do that?" Sam asked with a grin.

Alex snorted as she left the helm and moved to follow the others now scrambling from one boat to the other and then to the dock.

"Jesus.
This
is a Sunday night in cottage country?" Bricker asked, peering over the dancing and laughing people on shore with amazement as he stepped onto the deck with the cooler.

"If they're up here at their cottages they're on holiday," Sam pointed out with amusement. "Every night is Friday night when you're on vacation."

"And here I thought cottage country was all about peace and quiet and listening to crickets at night," Bricker said wryly.

"You've got a lot to learn, my boy," Alex teased as they all started up the dock.

Jack Anderson himself saw them approaching and met them at the foot of the dock. He had been a good friend and fishing buddy of their father's, and gave Sam and each of her sisters a bear hug in greeting before turning to the men for introductions. He'd barely finished assuring them they were all welcome before another boat arrived. Admonishing them all to have a good time, he then hurried off up the dock to direct the newcomers to tie themselves up to his own boat.

"Come on," Sam said, and led the group to a relatively open spot around a fallen log near the trees at this edge of the party. "This seems like a good spot. Bricker, set the cooler down there beside the log; someone can use it as a seat if they like."

She watched him set it down, frowning over the fact that he didn't look the least strained under the weight. A touch on her arm distracted her, drawing her around, and a smile of greeting claimed her lips as she recognized Margo and John Hemming, who had a cottage two doors down. They were only the first to approach. Everyone knew pretty much everyone else up here, and since this was the first time Sam and her sisters had been at the cottage this year, they were greeted like long-lost relatives. On top of that, everyone was curious about the three men they'd brought with them.

Sam suspected it was all a bit overwhelming for the men. Shortly after Bricker set down the cooler, the men had a powwow, and then Decker and Bricker slid away to mingle with the crowd. Mortimer remained behind, however. He stayed with Sam and her sisters, meeting everyone who came over, smiling and chatting and proving he could be extremely charming. The man had a sharp wit, could set everyone laughing with a mere comment, and handled it all beautifully. Still, even Sam was relieved when everyone eventually drifted away to meet and greet others, and they were left to relax and simply enjoy themselves.

"It's a pretty tight community up here, isn't it?" Mortimer said, sounding surprised as he followed her to the log by their cooler.

Sam nodded as she settled on the fallen tree trunk. She waited until he'd seated himself next to her before saying, "You kind of have to be. It's not like the city where police, fire, ambulance, and even grocery stores are near and handy. Everyone looks out for everyone else up here."

"You passed the test, by the way," Alex announced as she dropped onto the log on Sam's other side.

"What test is that?" Mortimer asked with surprise.

"The once-over by the other cottagers," Jo explained with a laugh as she laid claim to the cooler for a seat. "Why do you think we were so mobbed for such a long time?"

"Because you are three young women who are as charming as you are attractive, but you've all been so wrapped up in your careers that you haven't been up as much as you used to be and your presence has been missed," he said with a certainty that left all of them briefly silent.

It was Jo who finally broke the silence by saying, "Yeah, well, maybe, but they were still giving you the once-over."

"So you said," he murmured with amusement. "You also said I passed."

"Yes, you did," Sam assured him.

"How would you know that?"

"Because everyone was giving a thumbs-up behind your back," Alex announced in dry tones.

When he turned a questioning glance to Sam, she nodded solemnly. "Not very subtle maybe, but it works."

"Hmm," Mortimer muttered, but he was scowling as if the idea of being judged didn't sit well with him.

Jo laughed at his expression and pointed out, "This is a good thing, Mortimer. The other cottagers can make life difficult for people they don't like."

"I'll have to warn Decker about that," he muttered.

"Later," Jo suggested with a laugh and then said, "In the meantime, if I were to go drag Bobby and his guitar over this way, would you sing us a song?"

Sam frowned with concern and began to pat Mortimer's back as he choked up the mouthful of beer he'd been in the process of swallowing.

They were all silent as he regained his breath, but the moment he seemed recovered Jo asked, "Was that a yes or a no?"

"Oh, leave him alone, Jo," Sam said. "It's what he does for a living. He'll hardly want to do it while on vacation."

"Right," Jo said unhappily, and then pursed her lips and asked him, "So what do you like to do on your downtime?"

Mortimer hesitated for a minute and then admitted, "I'm not sure. I don't get much downtime."

"Ah." She nodded knowingly. "A workaholic like our Sam."

Mortimer opened his mouth as if to protest the label, but paused as Bricker suddenly appeared before them.

"We found someone Decker thinks you should meet," he announced, a solemn expression on his face.

Mortimer raised his eyebrows, but excused himself and rose to follow the man through the milling people.

Distracted by watching the two men disappear into the crowd, Sam didn't notice the way Jo scooted over to take up the empty spot Mortimer had left until Jo bumped Sam's shoulder with her own, and said in a teasing, singsong voice, "I think he likes you."

Sam glanced at her with surprise. "Who?"

"Mortimer," Alex said dryly from her other side. "Who else? The man hasn't left your side since we got here."

Sam felt her face grow warm, but shrugged. "I'm not in the market for a boyfriend, thanks."

"Why not? You're free and single now."

Sam wrinkled her nose at the
now
. Up until six months ago she'd been engaged to her high school sweetheart, Tom Granger, but he'd broken it off at Christmas. She shouldn't have been surprised by the timing; he'd never been the most sensitive soul. Timing wasn't the only thing about him that had sucked. While he'd seemed sweet and considerate when they were dating in high school and at university, things had changed considerably once they'd graduated and moved in together.

Tom had worked a nine-to-five job as a law clerk with the city, while she'd worked much longer hours at the firm, yet she'd come home late in the evening to find him sitting with his feet up waiting for supper. When she asked why he hadn't started the meal, he'd always claim he wasn't hungry, but then he'd always been more than happy to eat her food when she cooked it. She'd soon realized that the truth was he was too damned lazy to cook and was leaving it for her to do.

He'd also offered little help with cleaning. There was no need to bother, he'd always insisted; the house looked fine. When she brought up the subject or complained, he'd claimed that her standards were just higher than his. But it had been hard for Sam to ignore that if his mom called and said she was coming over, those lax standards of his suddenly jumped upward to match her supposedly higher ones and there was a mad dash to clean the house.

Tom hadn't even been willing to do the manly-type stuff around the house. Sam was the one who'd spent her rare time off climbing a ladder to clean the eave troughs in the fall. When a pipe burst and their basement flooded, she was the one who'd had to call in the plumbers and the city to tend it, and when it came to insulating the attic of the older house they'd bought together—

Sam cut her thoughts off. Just thinking about these things upset her all over again. Every incident had left her feeling more and more on her own, as if they weren't a couple at all, but as if it was her house, her responsibility, and he was just visiting and needn't help out or take some of the burden. It had left her feeling unloved and taken advantage of.