Wild Heat (Northern Fire) (5 page)

Tack had a hard time seeing the designer-clad former California golden girl making beds and cleaning bathrooms at the big Victorian house.

Something must have shown on his face because Kitty said, “Aunt Alma is teaching me how to keep the books and I’ll be working with someone to get the reservations computerized.”

“That makes sense.”

“I’ll also be helping with the housekeeping when their full-time help needs it. Gran should have someone to do kitchen prep, too, though she insists she doesn’t.” Kitty sighed, clearly thinking over the issues at the Knit & Pearl. “There’s some maintenance that needs doing too.”

“We’ll take care of that for Miz Moya and her sisters,” Egan offered before Tack had the chance.

Kitty shrugged. “There was a time when I was a dab hand with a hammer. I don’t think it’s a skill that goes rusty.”

It bothered Tack that her tone lacked confidence, regardless of her words.

It also sounded like she was biting off more than she could chew and he didn’t like that either, but at least it was typical Kitty Grant. Just as he had back in the day, Tack kept that opinion to himself.

He and Egan would help out with maintenance, whatever she thought.

Kitty had eaten exactly half of the piece of cake before she offered the plate to Tack. “Would you like the rest?”

Then, before he could answer, she paled, dismay covering her lovely face. She jerked the plate back before he could take it. “I’m so sorry. That was extremely impolite of me. Of course you wouldn’t want to eat after me.”

Tack reached out and pulled the dessert from her. “I’m not that fastidious, Kitty. I can remember sharing food from the same plate with you more times than I can count.”

“We aren’t children anymore. I should know better.”

Those weren’t his wildcat’s words. They were straight from that bastard who’d kept her in LA; Tack was sure of it.

“Forget it. You’re not getting this cake back.” He took a big bite to prove how unconcerned he was about eating after her.

“Don’t you at least want your own fork?” she asked, moisture glistening at her temples, her pupils dilated so wide her irises were no more than two thin blue rings.

Hell if she hadn’t had a panic attack right in front of him. And done a damn professional job of hiding it.

“Nope.” He finished the cake in two more bites.

Egan and Bobby were looking at Kitty like she was a tourist. Tack cleared his throat and gave the two men a warning glare before she noticed.

Something told him their reaction would only add to her distress.

Bobby took the hint immediately. “I’d better get the paperwork filled out for my afternoon tour.”

“Yes. And if there’s one blank line on it when it reaches my office, you’ll do all the filing for the rest of the season. You fail to get another release form signed and I’ll drop you in an ice hole this winter.”

Bobby winced. “Sorry about that, boss. Some of the tourists don’t want to sign. They act like needing to do it means we aren’t properly trained and equipped.”

“No signed release form, no tour. No exceptions. The clients can take it up with me if they don’t like it.”

Bobby nodded, and Egan said, “I still think we need a receptionist.”

“I know.” And Tack didn’t disagree.

Having someone to handle tour reservations, liaise with cruise ships, and take care of the paperwork would be great. If they could afford it.

“If we didn’t have to share time manning the phones and doing all our own paperwork, between the three of us, we could add four or five short tours and maybe even another one of your full-day wild Alaska excursions to the week’s schedule. The cruise directors would love it.”

Tack knew all of that was true. With some office help, he and Egan might even get home before midnight during cruise season.

“I’ve looked at the numbers,” Tack reminded Egan. “We could only hire someone for about fifteen hours a week.”

Which would help but wouldn’t really be the solution they needed. Summer wages in Alaska were at a premium, even among the full-time residents of Cailkirn. There were more jobs than townspeople to fill them.

“No one is going to give up the chance at a high-paying full-time job for a few hours a week.” It was the truth, no matter how unpalatable.

“What if we hired another guide and expanded our schedule?” Egan asked. “Could we hire someone full-time then?”

“You’re assuming we could find anyone at this late date, for either the guide or office position.” Tack squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Besides, if we knew of another guide we could trust, we would have hired him, or her, already.”

They had agreements with other guides on the peninsula for overflow tours when it couldn’t be helped, but Tack was against taking any of them on full-time.

Egan frowned. “I’m not going to argue.” He looked at Kitty and rolled his eyes. “It wouldn’t do any good and I know it. It took me two years to convince big brother here to hire another guide. I swear he only agreed because Bobby’s family.”

“Family takes care of family.” And despite Bobby’s youth, their cousin could be trusted to keep their clients safe. Once he got the paperwork right, Bobby was going to make a strong addition to the business.

Even so, Tack assigned the eighteen-year-old the most basic tours with the easiest trails. Some of the tours Tack and Egan led didn’t follow trails at all.

“He’s a good kid,” Egan said, echoing Tack’s thoughts. “But if we limit our hires to family, we’re screwed for another guide.”

“It doesn’t have to be family, just someone who is as committed to safe and environmentally responsible wilderness exploration as we are.”

“You can’t be the only conservationist guide on the peninsula,” Kitty said with a mocking tilt to her full lips.

“Don’t get him started on that,” Egan whined. “There’s eco-friendly and then there’s Tack. He’s so green, when he finally does get married, his wife is going to get grass stains sleeping with him.”

“So your receptionist has to be an environmental activist?” Kitty teased.

“We’ll expect our clerical staff to reduce, reuse, recycle, of course, but that’s not the issue.” He gave his brother a quelling look. “You know I’d like to hire someone as much as you, but it’s not going to work this year.”

Tack didn’t like paperwork and answering the phones any more than Egan did, but they weren’t putting their business at financial risk in order to avoid it either.

“How much would you pay a part-time receptionist?” Kitty asked, a calculating gleam in her blue eyes.

Knowing it was about twice what he’d pay for the same clerical position in the Lower 48, Tack told her what he’d figured out they could afford.

Kitty’s expression reflected an almost cautious excitement. “I’ll give you three hours a day six days a week for that.”

Which was three more hours than Tack had expected to get for the money, but it would mean seeing Kitty almost every day. Considering his dream last night, he wasn’t sure that was the best idea regardless of how much paperwork it would save him.

W
hat? You want to work for us? Really?” Egan demanded, sounding too hopeful. “But you’re working at the Knit and Pearl.”

Kitty looked around the office as if trying to picture working here and then looked back at Egan. “I’m helping my grandmother and great-aunts. I’m not going on the payroll.”

“So?” Tack asked.

She couldn’t need money. She’d just divorced a very wealthy man.

Tucking some wild red curls behind her ears, Kitty flipped the rest over her shoulders. “You know Mom and Dad left me just about enough to pay for college and not much more.”

“But you didn’t finish.” And that still didn’t answer the issue of her divorce settlement.

“Not back then, no, I didn’t.”

“Are you saying you finished your BA in business?”

Her features set in familiar stubbornness. “Yes.”

Yes, his Kitty was definitely still in there. Pride in her accomplishment made him smile. “Good job.”

“Thank you. Nevin paid for it, though he would have been furious to know I’d used my saved up allowance for that.” There was definite satisfaction in her tone.

Oh, yeah. That was the Kitty Grant he remembered.

“Good,” Egan said with approval.

“When did you do it?” Tack asked.

“This last year, waiting for the divorce to finalize. I needed to do something that made me feel like I could still be a person, that my dreams still mattered, even if they’d changed beyond recognition.”

“Your dreams have always mattered.” And Tack had supported her pursuing them, even when it meant leaving his beloved Alaska to watch over her at USC.

Kitty grimaced, like she was sure she agreed. “I would have finished my degree eight years ago. I never meant to be a trophy wife, but I used the last of my inheritance for the wedding. There was no money for my senior year.”

That was why she’d dropped out of school? Tack regretted judging her the way he had, but then she hadn’t shared any of this with him.

She hadn’t considered him her friend anymore.

“You paid for your wedding?” he asked, finding that hard to comprehend when Barston was such a rich man.

“Mostly. Nevin lent me the rest after what I had left in my account from Mom and Dad was gone.”

Egan made a choking sound. “He
loaned
it to you?”

“I was the bride, so it was my family’s responsibility to pay for the wedding and reception, but Nevin expected high-end everything. I wasn’t about to ask Gran to foot the bill for such a lavish event.”

Kitty hadn’t changed as much as he’d thought back then.

Though her consideration for Miz Moya’s finances didn’t make up for the fact that she’d been refused the opportunity to invite any of her friends to the wedding. Her only grandchild had gotten married and Miz Moya had only been allowed to attend with her sisters; no other guests from Cailkirn or even Kitty’s distant family in the Lower 48 were allowed.

“So you
borrowed
money from your fiancé for a party he insisted on?” Tack asked, finding that even harder to accept than her paying for the wedding to begin with.

“Yes.”

“You didn’t work after you married, did you?”

“No.”

“Then how did he expect you to pay him back?”

“Out of my personal allowance.” Bright flags of embarrassment reddened Kitty’s cheeks. “It took me five years and a lot of careful maneuvering and shopping so I could still present the image Nevin expected of his wife.”

Something about the way she said that made Tack think that Nevin hadn’t been as appreciative of Kitty’s efforts as they no doubt deserved.

“Nevin wasn’t the one who set up the repayment schedule, though, was he?” Tack knew her—Kitty would have tried to pay off her
debt
as quickly as possible.

That it took five years just showed what a miserly jerk she’d been married to.

“No.” Kitty sighed. “And he didn’t like that I was so determined to erase the obligation as quickly as possible. I don’t know, maybe that’s partly why he was so critical of my attempts to fit in his world on a budget.”

Tack shook his head. He didn’t think so. “Or maybe he saw the financial liability as a way to maintain control over you. The longer you took to pay it off, the longer he had that particular anvil to hold over your head.”

“Asshole,” Egan spit.

Kitty didn’t shrug, but her expression didn’t share either Egan’s or Tack’s outrage. “It is what it is, right?”

“Let me guess,” Tack said with a narrow-eyed glare. “His lawyers kept your divorce settlement to a minimum.”

“He fought the divorce, Tack. He didn’t want it. He wasn’t offering any settlement at all. I didn’t even ask for lawyer’s fees. I just wanted out.”

“Even if he didn’t want to give you anything, didn’t the judge order
something
?” Egan asked, sounding confused.

“I signed a very strict prenup. Filing for divorce negated any and all claims I had on Nevin’s assets.”

“You should have sued him for the cost of that
lavish
wedding,” Egan opined.

Kitty almost smiled. “I thought about it, but getting away was more important than getting anything out of him.”

Egan grimaced, but he didn’t say anything else. He gave Tack a pointed look that couldn’t be misinterpreted, though.

“Are you sure you can work here and at the B and B?” Tack asked, wishing she’d reconsider but knowing she wouldn’t.

“Definitely.” Kitty’s face glowed with hope for the first time since he’d seen her back in Cailkirn. “I’ve lost a lot, but not my ability to put my shoulder to it.”

“More like your fingertips. It’s a lot of paperwork,” Tack warned. “And talking on the phone.”

Not one of his favorite things to do.

“I can do it, Tack.” She swallowed and stood, giving both him and Egan an earnest look. “I’m not useless.”

Hell. Tack sighed, lost. “I know that.”

“You’re smart enough to keep us both in line and Bobby out of trouble,” Egan offered teasingly.

And still sexy enough to challenge Tack’s determination to keep her at arm’s length. “I’ll make a deal with you.”

“What do you want in exchange?” she asked in a tone he’d never heard from Kitty Grant, her voice flat and wary at the same time.

“Go on a hike with me. You should see what we do if you’re going to take reservations and liaise with the cruise ships.”

She bit her lip. “I don’t have any boots.”

Kitty was wearing boots right now, but he knew what she meant. Something suitable for hiking. “I imagine Miz Moya has a pair of your old ones stored somewhere in that big house.”

Kitty gave a barely-there nod. “I’ll do it.”

“Would you feel better if Egan came with us?” Tack asked, not liking that idea one bit.

He wasn’t the one who had proven himself untrustworthy. Not in their relationship and not in Kitty’s life.

Her blue eyes widened and she shook her head vehemently. “No. I…it’s just…it’s been a while. I probably can’t keep up with you.”

“We’ll see, wildcat.”

“Don’t go feeling bad about it if you can’t,” Egan offered. “No one can keep up with Tack. I’ve had more than one tourist come back from his excursions asking if he’s even human.”

“I’m not that bad.”

“You’ve got about as much stamina as the bear you’re named for, Taqukaq.” Egan shook his head. “And the tourists still request you because their friends tell them how
amazing
your excursions are.”

Tack frowned at his brother. “I’m not a grizzly bear.”

“You’re about as big as one,” Kitty teased.

He was too happy she was showing some spunk to take umbrage at her words. “Bears have a few hundred pounds on me.”

“You sure about that, brother?” Egan smacked Tack’s tight abs with the back of his hand.

“That was muscle you hit, little boy.” At six-foot-four, his brother might be taller than average, but he was still two inches shorter than Tack.

And he never let Egan forget it.

Egan glared, looking like he was getting ready to deliver something harder than an easy backhand.

“Are you saying he has the muscles of a grizzly bear?” Kitty asked, smoothing things between the brothers just that fast.

Just like she used to when they were kids.

“No way.” Egan looked properly horrified. “That might be a compliment.”

Kitty looked Tack over like a musher buying a new dog for her sled. “But not too far off the mark. You’ve grown into an impressive man, Tack.”

She wasn’t trying to be sexy—her tone was too matter-of-fact—but damn if having her eyes on him wasn’t making his jeans too tight at the fly again.

“
Aana
can’t get him married off, so I’m not sure the women around here agree with you,” Egan suggested. The little shit.

Kitty brushed past Tack, heading back to his office. “Marriage isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

Egan gave Tack a look.

Tack didn’t bother to answer it. He was too busy trying to mask his reaction to that very brief, very casual touch.

Kitty came out of his office with her purse. “I need to get back to the Knit and Pearl.”

Tack nodded, his throat dry.

“Do I have the job?” she asked.

“Yes, but I don’t want you wearing yourself out. You work the hours out with Miz Alma.”

“Of course I will.” The words were right, but somehow Tack didn’t think Kitty meant them the way he wanted her to.

She wasn’t going to give herself a break. It wasn’t her way. Miz Moya had raised her granddaughter to be independent and strong. Those traits were still there inside of Kitty, even if she didn’t realize it.

He would just have to watch for signs of fatigue. He’d call Miz Alma himself if he needed to.

“She needs a friend,” Egan said quietly from beside Tack after Kitty left, carrying a now empty cake plate.

“I know.”

“Do you?”

Tack turned to face his brother. “What do you mean?”

“You loved her, when you went down to college together in the Lower Forty-Eight.”

“Do you have a point?” He wouldn’t deny the truth, but he’d never said it out loud and sure wasn’t going to do it today.

“She broke your heart once; don’t give her a chance to do it again.” Egan’s dark eyes were shadowed with concern, his mouth set in a serious line.

“I’ve got no plans to let her at my heart.” Again.

“Hey, guys, why so serious?” Bobby came out of the room with a copy machine and the table he and Egan used for doing paperwork.

Choosing not to comment on Bobby’s question, Tack asked, “Do we need to get a desk or something in here for Kitty?”

“Wait. What?” Bobby asked. “Why would Miss Grant need a desk?”

“We’re hiring her as a part-time receptionist. Lucky you, she’ll be helping with phones and paperwork.”

“That’s great,” Bobby said with all the enthusiasm of a teenager who just found out he didn’t have homework.

“So, a desk?” Tack asked again.

Egan shrugged. “Maybe. Probably.”

Bobby nodded his agreement. “Women like their own space. Just ask Jenna.”

Bobby’s older sister was a force to be reckoned with. If she said women liked their own space, then Tack was inclined to believe it.

“Think we can get a desk in Kenai?” He had commissioned the one in his office from his father. They didn’t have the six months minimum it would take to commission another one.

“I think so, if we’re not worried about getting real wood. There’s that office supply store by the airport,” Egan said. “They’ve got some desks.”

Bobby whistled. “Granddad is going to have a fit if you two bring prefab furniture in here.”

“We can’t wait until next year for it.” But Tack was pretty sure his cousin was right.

Egan frowned. “We should at least tell him what we need.”

“So, call him.” Granddad would know if someone in the family had an extra desk they’d be willing to get rid of too.

“Why can’t you call him?” Egan whined.

“Man up. You’re a MacKinnon.”

“Yeah, and according to Granddad, that means I should be married and providing the next generation to Cailkirn because of it.”

“Sucks turning twenty-four, doesn’t it?”

“What is up with that anyway?” Bobby asked. “It’s not some magic number. I could understand twenty-one, but what’s so special about twenty-four?”

Tack headed to his office. “That’s how old Granddad was when he married Gran MacKinnon.”

“So? Your dad was only twenty and mine was twenty-two.”

“Yeah, and Da reminds me of that if I complain about Granddad haranguing me about my responsibilities to the town,” Egan muttered.

Tack didn’t have any sympathy for his brother. He’d been getting the lecture from Granddad for four solid years. Frankly, he appreciated having someone take a little of the heat off.

He wanted Cailkirn to thrive and planned to marry one day, but right now Tack was focused on building his business.

And controlling his physical reaction to Kitty Grant, who had nothing to do with his continued single state. No matter what both of his grandmothers thought.

Caitlin heard the low masculine tones of Tack’s voice float up from downstairs.

Anxiety that she’d dithered too long over what to wear on the hike warred with an inexplicable impatience to see him. She hadn’t even had time to eat breakfast, which was so not good.

She should definitely be feeling more anxious about that than the idea of seeing the gorgeous Alaskan man again.

Neither reaction was helping her decide what to wear.

He’d been right that her gran had an old pair of Caitlin’s hiking boots in storage. However, after he called what she had considered a casual outfit too fancy for Cailkirn yesterday, Caitlin hadn’t known what to wear with them.

She only had two pairs of jeans, both designer. Her sweaters were all lightweight, appropriate for Southern California winters, which was to say no real winter at all. Even in the coldest part of the year, the temperatures rarely dropped to spring temperatures in Cailkirn.

It might be the sunniest city in Alaska, but it wasn’t the warmest. This far north, the sun didn’t usually mean hot. Not by the definition of anyone living south of the fifty-fourth parallel.