He paddled strenuously, holding his head high out of the water like a nervous dog. Up on the hill, the woman started down, then stopped as Jake reached out and plucked her son from the water, setting him upright near a heap of rocks that protruded into the river.
“Good man.” Jake passed the bar. “Soap up.”
Without his glasses, Howie looked owlishly at bare-chested Jake, then stripped off his own shirt, exposing a skinny white torso. He rubbed himself into a froth and they plunged into the deep water again to rinse themselves clean. The scent of skunk was not so easily defeated.
Jake urged Howie out of the water. He collected their discarded clothing into one reeking armful.
The boy fumbled for the glasses he’d tucked in his shoe. He put them on and studied Jake’s tattoos with fascination. After a minute, the corners of his mouth jerked into a tight little smile. “Hey, Jake. You still stink.”
“So do you.” Jake squeezed water from his boxer shorts, then chafed his arms and legs. “And you look like a drowned cat.”
“My mom’s gonna be mad.”
Jake didn’t think so. She seemed more like the fussbudget type. “Not your fault the skunk found you.”
“I was exploring in the forest.”
“So you’re saying that it was you who found the skunk?”
“Sort of. I think it followed me.” The shivering boy looked up with a worried face. “I’m sorry you got sprayed.”
Jake clapped him on the shoulder. “Not the first time. No big deal.”
“But you really stink. Worse’n me.”
“It’ll wear off.” Jake shoved his feet into his boots and started up the slope to the house. “C’mon. Your mom will have dry clothes for you.”
She did. Towels, too, unfamiliar to Jake. “Yours?” he said, taking the one she offered—a faded beach towel printed with some kind of cartoon character.
“I had them in the car.” She was vigorously rubbing down her son, and the poor kid stood there and took it, jiggling like a bobblehead doll.
“Uh, thanks, but I’m liable to ruin it.” Jake tried to hand back the towel. “According to Howie, I still stink.”
“Yeah, you do.” She screwed up her face. “But go ahead and use the towel anyway. It’s an old one.” Her glance bounced off him. “And you look pretty cold.”
Jake had dropped the pile of ruined clothes. He stood before her in nothing but unlaced boots, soaked cotton shorts, tattoos and dog tags. He was probably showing a little too much of the raw package down below. While he had no modesty left after decades as an Army Ranger, she obviously wasn’t as easygoing.
He dried himself, then wrapped the towel around his hips. He watched her help Howie step into a pair of jeans and asked, “What was your name again?” even though he remembered she was Leah…something.
She looked up from a kneel. “Lia Po—Howard. Lia Howard.”
“Huh.” He looked at the boy. “So you’re Howie Howard?”
Howie opened his mouth. Lia thrust a polo shirt down over his head. “Howie’s a nickname.”
Her daughters came around the corner of the house, holding hands. They stared at Jake.
He eyed them. The little girl was a cutie. The teenager clearly had an attitude, considering the way she thrust her chin and glowered at him, the sun glinting off the silver stud pierced beneath her lower lip.
She made a choking sound and pressed the back of her hand to her nose. Black polish was chipping off her nails. Around one thin wrist was a wide leather band, heavy chain link on the other. “That smell. I can’t stand it.”
Lia frowned. “Sam, don’t be rude.”
“But, Mom, he reeks.” The girl gagged, then gagged again with her hand pressed over her mouth. “Gross. It’s making me sick.” She turned and ran off. They heard the car door slam.
“That was Sam,” Lia said. “Samantha. She’s fourteen with a vengeance.”
“Needs a paddling.”
Lia’s words popped like mortar fire. “I don’t hit my kids. Violence solves nothing.”
Jake shrugged. “That depends on the situation.”
“You’re the soldier, then.”
“The soldier?”
“Rose told me. One brother in the Army, one brother…” She trailed off as if embarrassed.
Jake gave her a look. “In the big house.”
“Where’s the big house?” the little girl asked. She pointed. “That one?”
“A different kind of house, honey.”
“Prison,” Howie said. He was looking at Jake with the same rounded eyes his mother used. “Were you in combat?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you going back?”
“I’m retired now.”
Howie squinted. “You don’t look that old.”
“I’m thirty-nine. Old enough to retire from the Army. I enlisted when I was eighteen.”
“My mom got married when she was seventeen.”
“Oh?” Jake watched the emotion that crossed Lia’s face before she felt his interest and made herself go blank. He directed his comment at her. “You went through a different kind of combat, huh?”
She let out a little snort. “You could say that.”
“We’re divorced from Daddy,” piped up Kristen Rose.
Lia clenched her hands. “I’m divorced, not you kids.”
“Then when can we see Daddy again?”
“I don’t know.” Lia evaded Jake’s curiosity by reaching for the discarded clothing. She got one whiff and dropped the garments. “The smell is really bad, even on Howie. We’re going to have to do something about it or we won’t be allowed into a motel.”
The boy cocked his head. “A motel? But—”
“Hush, Howie. We’re going to a motel.” Lia sent a distracted but apologetic smile at Jake. “We’ve caused enough trouble for Mr. Robbin.”
Jake knew that he ought to keep his mouth shut and let them leave. He wanted them to go. He had big plans for the place and he surely didn’t want to work around the distraction of three kids and a needy woman. Only the thought of Rose scolding him for being a bad host in her stead made him speak up. “You’re
