look?” She pulled the carton of milk out of the fridge and stirred a thin stream into her coffee.
“The one that promises all of Alaska’s Treasures tour guides are handsome, eligible bachelors. Obviously, they didn’t include me in the article.”
“Obviously.”
Sure, she was beautiful. She was cute and captivating, wholesome and charming. Now that she wasn’t in a wedding gown, he didn’t feel nearly as defensive around her. But that didn’t mean he intended to like her.
“If they had, then women like you wouldn’t be flocking into town—”
“Excuse me. Women like me?” She arched a brow at him. The look on her face said, no longer wholesome. She’d morphed into the tire kicker, the woman who’d been all steamed up when he’d first come across her, stranded in the dark. She arrowed the full force of her gaze at him. “What exactly does that mean?”
“Flighty women. Women looking for advantage and opportunity.”
“Oh, so now we’re back to me being an opportunist. Tell me, what opportunity am I looking for? What advantage?”
“Hard to say when you’re in a mood like that.” Uh-oh. He’d never had a way with the ladies, and this was a flash of what had gone wrong in his marriage. He would open his mouth very clear on his opinion of things, only to be outright misunderstood. Women. Not just a mystery to him, but to the entire universe. “Let’s just say you’re not the staying type.”
“Staying type? Oh, and men are?” She shut the refrigerator door and stalked across the floor to glare up at him. “I just got left at the altar. Hello? I wasn’t the one who ran off.”
“I didn’t know that.” This wasn’t going at all the way he wanted. Panic set in, along with the fervent wish he’d gotten out the door before she’d come into the kitchen. “When I got divorced, I never figured I would have another irate woman to deal with before breakfast.”
“Guess again, buddy.” She shook her head, scattering bouncy golden locks. “I can’t think of anyone who has ever gotten me so mad so fast. You have a gift, Gage.”
“I’ve got something.” A disaster record when it came to women. Good thing he was under no illusions that he ought to try marriage again. He and women just didn’t mix. Like oil and water. Like gasoline and flame. Like dynamite and a detonator. “I’ve got to get to work. Bucky ought to be here around ten. It was real nice meeting you.”
“You don’t sound as if you mean that.”
“I don’t. Good luck, Karenna.” That he meant.
He couldn’t help the tug in his chest as he grabbed his lunch pail, his egg sandwich from the counter and his thermos. He opened the back door—didn’t know why he took one last look at her.
Maybe he sort of liked her. She was spunky and perky and had been kind to Gran and Matthew. She looked out of place in the simple country kitchen, so beautiful she hurt his eyes.
He shut the door behind him, closing down his emotions. He had no business feeling anything for her. He strode down the porch and into the morning light.
What a cantankerous man. Karenna watched Gage’s SUV trail down the driveway, the taillights growing fainter until the thick stands of cedar and fir stole him from her sight. He was too young to be truly called cantankerous—that brought to mind someone at the end of his life, embittered and thoroughly disagreeable. It’s more like Gage had a grizzled personality.
That, and he didn’t think much of women. After putting cold water and fresh grounds into the coffeemaker, she carried her cup to the round table in the sunny breakfast nook. She was a Seattle girl, raised in the Green Lake neighborhood north of the University district, where leafy trees lined pleasant streets and a short walk took her to the small city park and lake. That was her idea of nature.
Not anymore. The view outside the picture window was awe-inspiring. A lush green forest marched up the hillside as far as she could see, to the lower skirt of a mountain range. Snowcapped peaks, rugged and majestic, speared the flawless blue sky, as if the earth were trying to reach all the way to heaven. What a beautiful start to a day, gazing upon all of this. Surely, living here would make someone less cantankerous over time?
A deer and two small, spotted fawns wandered into the driveway. Such tiny, delicate creatures, peaceful and sweet. She held her breath, not daring to move as they passed by the window.
“Probably come to try to nibble at my garden.” Jean broke the silence, padding into the kitchen in her pink terry-cloth robe and scuffed yellow slippers. “Gage got it fenced up good and tight for me, but there’s no telling if the deer will stay out. They’re real inventive. Good morning, dear.”
“Good morning. Did you sleep well?”
“Like a rock.”
“Matthew had a bottle around four. He was sound asleep the last I checked.”
“He is. I just peeked in at him. Sleeping like an angel.” Jean shuffled to the coffeemaker. “I see you made fresh. Gage takes half of the pot in his work thermos.”
“I wanted to make sure there was enough for you.” Karenna pushed out of her chair. “I was thinking about breakfast. Would you like me to cook? I wouldn’t mind.”
“Oh, I couldn’t let you do that. You’re our guest.”
“Guest? More like an imposition.”
“It depends on who you are talking to.” Jean appeared amused as she stirred milk into her cup. “You saw Gage before he left?”
“Saw him, talked to him, lived to regret it.”
“You and everyone else.” Jean laughed easily, reminding Karenna of her own grandmother. “I’m not at all sure what I’m going to do about that boy.”
Boy? He was a man in his prime, wide of shoulder, brawny and strong. Karenna couldn’t imagine Gage as a boy. “Was he always that impossible?”
“You mean stubborn? Strong-willed?” Jean nodded. “Yes. He was the funniest kid. Kept me in stitches the whole time he was growing up.”
“Gage funny?” She fished a frying pan out of the lower cabinets. “You have to be talking about someone else. I don’t buy it. Not Gage.”
“He was a card. Always laughing. Always seeing the bright side of life.” Jean opened the fridge and handed over a carton of eggs. “That was before his marriage fell apart. I knew that girl wasn’t right for him. She was nice enough. She just didn’t value all the right things, Gage especially.”
“That sounds difficult.” Having some experience with that very thing sent a wave of sympathy through her. Hard to picture Gage with a smile on his face, always laughing. “He must have changed completely.”
“Ain’t that the truth. I hardly recognize him.” Jean dug through the fridge and produced a package of bacon and a pitcher of orange juice. “He’s not the same man. These days, he’s hard and cynical. I don’t think he means to be. He’s simply lost.”
“Is
