by Denise Gwen
She blinked and noticed the most astonishing curlicues and ribbons of bright colors: greens, blues, icy whites.
“Oh, my goodness,” she said. “What in the world is that?”
Jake looked up to the night sky and smiled. “Those are the Northern Lights.”
“The what?”
“The Northern Lights,” Jake said, pointing. “The closer you get to the Arctic Circle, the more brilliant and vibrant they become.”
“I keep forgetting, just how far north I am.”
“You won’t see a sight like that down in Omaha,” he chuckled.
“No, I expect not.”
“You came at a good time of year,” Jake noted. “It’s the deepest days of winter, and the sun never really rises above the tree-line, but you’re compensated by the Northern Lights.”
“That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“Yes,” he said absently. “I expect so.”
And walked off.
She followed.
After a few hundred yards, he stopped at a small cabin in a clearing. He produced a key from his pocket, which he dropped into her outstretched hand. He did it so quickly, she didn’t get a chance to feel his skin. In fact, now that she thought on it, he’d dropped it purposefully, so as to avoid any skin contact.
“This is the only key, so hold onto it,” he warned her. “Go ahead.”
Sarah took the key, unlocked the door, and walked into a compact, snug, and cozy space. As she took the measure of it, her heart gladdened for the first time that day, and she began to think that perhaps her stay here wouldn’t be a complete disaster.
“Oh, my goodness,” she said in a voice of wonder, “a fireplace?”
“Yes,” Jake said, walking in behind her. “I built it.”
She whirled around and found herself only inches away from his aquiline nose. It was the closest she’d stood to him. “You did?”
“Yes,” he said proudly, “I did.”
Her cheeks flushing from more than the heat in the fireplace, she whirled around to face the fire. “Oh, my goodness, but aren’t you a skillful bricklayer?”
“I’m a master of many things. Whoops, that didn’t sound right,” he chuckled.
Sarah couldn’t resist a tiny dig. “Are you a master,” she led with a sly smile, “when you’re dispensing illegal prescriptions?”
At this, Jake’s face fell.
She winced.
Perhaps, Sarah, you could’ve handled that differently.
“Anyway,” he said, “I hope you like the cabin,” and he turned and put his hand on the doorknob.
“Wait,” she grabbed his shoulder and was struck by the toned muscles of his body.
He turned to look at her, and the expression in his eyes . . . one of hurt, a tinge of anger, and another quality, one she didn’t recognize.
But I’m not the guilty one! He’s the one who’s dispensing illegal prescriptions, and yet here I am, feeling bad for calling him out on it.
“It was nice meeting you, Dr. O’Reilly. And I will see you tomorrow morning.”
“Jake, wait, please. I’m sorry.”
She released his shoulder and he stood there, quietly. She thought he was going to turn around and leave the cabin, but he looked at her, instead. It was then she saw the open, raw hurt in his eyes.
“You are correct, Dr. Sarah O’Reilly, that I’m issuing prescriptions to the patients here at the Tlingit Reservation Medical Clinic, but you need to understand that I did it out of necessity, and every script I have ever issued, was approved ahead of time by either Dr. Paul or by your sister, Dr. Rachel.”
This was a long speech to deliver, and by the time he finished speaking, Sarah was close to tears.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to be unpleasant about it.”
“Dr. Paul warned me of your disapproval,” Jake continued formally. “And I agreed with him, before your arrival, that I would no longer carry out this practice.”
It was weird, the way he’d handled it. She’d been all ready to jump down his throat and remind him that it was highly improper and that her sister and her husband could get their medical licenses revoked, and now, as he reached the end of his speech, she very much regretted even bringing the topic up.
Especially when he was so devastatingly handsome, and he’d gone to the trouble of building a cabin for her.
A disloyal thought entered her mind.
Grant has never built me anything.
Grant was a wonderful doctor, and didn’t have the time to build things, but as she stood in this toasty warm, tiny cabin, her heart melted for the man who’d gone to the trouble to build a cozy cabin for her to rest in while she did her time up here.
“It’s hard for the people of the reservation to get access to medicine when they need it, and when Dr. Paul is in Sitka, or when Dr. Rachel’s unwell—”
“I get it, Jake, all right?”
He stopped and his eyes went dark.
“You don’t need to keep explaining yourself,” she said, hating how unpleasant she sounded. “I get it, okay? I won’t breathe another word about the prescriptions.”
“Very well,” he said, and this time he sounded angry.
“Show me around the rest of the cabin?” she asked, in a small voice.
“It is all before you, as you see it,” he said coldly. “I bid you goodnight, Dr. Sarah, and I will see you tomorrow morning at the clinic.”
“Didn’t you want to—”
“Good night, Dr. Sarah,” he said, shutting the door tightly behind him, leaving her alone with her humiliation and her sorrow.
Chapter 4
As Jake walked back to the snug home he shared with his mother and his son, his boots crunched through the thin layer of ice covering the snow, and with every crackling step, he derived a grim satisfaction, for it resounded very much in tune with his anger.
I could’ve handed that better. I sure could’ve handed it better.
When he told her that he’d built the cabin himself, the way her green eyes opened wide in surprise, then pleasure . . . oh, he’d never forget the look on her face, how much it’d impressed her.
I didn’t even get a chance to show her the built-in desk.
When Rachel first mentioned that her sister loved to write in her journal every night, he decided to build her a desk, but by the time Rachel told him this, there’d been no space in the cabin for a traditionally built desk, and so he’d fashioned the Murphy bed version of a desk for her. And then, Rachel showed him a photo of her sister, and Jake, who didn’t think an O’Reilly girl could be any prettier than Rachel, had changed his mind when he saw Sarah’s photo.
Too bad about her attitude.
Even so, he regretted the way he’d behaved just now . . . even though she’d hurt his feelings.
Don’t dwell on it anymore.
“Oh, Sarah,” she flung at herself. “How could you be so stupid?”
She regretted her ill-advised attempt at a joke and longed to take it back, but it was too late. She’d offended Jake Roundtree, and now he was gone.
Apologize tomorrow.
Okay, that’d have to suffice.
She walked distractedly around her cabin for a few moments, before finally deciding that, yes, she really ought to lay her head down and sleep. But first, she had to become fully acquainted with the beautiful, snug cabin that the handsome physician’s assistant had built for her.
She walked over to the cozy armchair by the fire and sat down.
She warmed her hands for a few minutes in front of the fireplace, then turned from it, and noticed a small alcove that contained a toilet, a sink, and a walk-in-shower.
Hmmm, Jake Roundtree didn’t build a shower door, I wonder why? I suppose he thought I’d be the only one here.
Or was money an issue?
The image hit her, with the force of a snowstorm. She saw it, in her mind’s eye, and the image was so graphic, so mesmerizing, a hot swell of
desire rose up inside her. She saw herself in the shower, standing nude under the hot spray of water, her fingers massaging soap into the skin, and then she saw a gorgeous, nude man, silhouetted in the entrance to the shower, just standing there, his brown eyes wide and full, just watching her as she massaged her legs, her arms, her chest . . . Soon he joined her in the shower and wrapped his strong, muscular arms around her slender waist and pulled her in close to him . . .
A knock at the door disturbed her reverie and, without thinking, she jumped to her feet, ran to the door, and flung it open. “Jake, I’m so sorry,” she burst out, before realizing it was her sister.
Rachel cocked an eyebrow. “Sorry, Sis. It’s only me.”
“Oh,” Sarah said, disappointment flooding her heart. “Oh, I thought it was Jake.”
“Sorry,” Rachel said, stepping over the threshold and standing in the snug foyer. She put her hands on her hips and looked around her with an approving gaze. “I got a look at this place when Jake was still building it, but I must say, I’m very impressed.”
“It’s gorgeous,” Sarah said with a regretful sigh. “I was just thinking of going to bed.”
“I need to sit down,” Rachel said, walking over to the armchair that Sarah had just vacated. She sat down, eased her legs up onto the small ottoman. “It’s a tight space, as you can see, and Jake thought a shower door would only block up the room. After all,” she added, with a negligent sweep of the hand, “it’s not like you’re gonna have lots of people in here.”
“Where do I sleep?” Sarah asked.
Rachel tilted her head up, and Sarah followed her gaze and saw a free-standing ladder leading into the loft where a thick futon mattress was laid out on a low trundle, and a stack of quilts piled up on top. “Oh, that looks so cozy,” she said.
“And did you check out the kitchenette?” Rachel asked, pointing. “It’s just big enough you can cook, if you want.”
“Oh, my goodness. This is gorgeous, Rachel.”
“This cabin’s brand spanking new,” Rachel said. “Jake and Paul just finished building it a week ago.”
“It’s lovely,” Sarah said.
“Paul helped with the building,” Rachel added, her voice filled with pride.
“But Jake built the fireplace?”
“Yes, he did.” Rachel smiled ruefully. “To be honest, Jake did nearly all of it. Paul helped, but this was Jake’s project.”
This knowledge filled Sarah up with a strange heat. Jake had gone to a lot of effort to build her cabin.
Yes, but he would’ve gone to this much effort for anybody. He didn’t know me. I’m not special to him. What am I thinking?
She took a few steps around the snug space, inhaling the aroma of freshly cut lumber.
“I don’t mean to go bragging on my husband,” Rachel said with a shy smile, “but did you know this?”
“Did I know what?” Sarah asked with a wry smile.
“Paul didn’t use a single nail.”
“Really?”
“Really. Now, that was Paul’s idea. He suggested it to Jake, who loved it, and they used an ancient coupling system of fitting the pieces together in such a way as to jig-saw them together.” The pride in her husband was evident, and yet Sarah was impressed by Jake’s contribution.
I wish I had a husband I could brag about to my sister.
“And there’s something else you don’t know.”
“Oh, what’s that?”
“Look at this.” Rachel struggled to stand up and Sarah hurried over to help her sister to her feet. “I am getting as clumsy as a bear.”
“But a beautiful bear, that’s about to give birth to a beautiful cub,” Sarah said.
Rachel released Sarah’s hand and walked over to the wall across from the fireplace. She pushed a knob in the wall, and to Sarah’s surprise, a panel popped out. She pulled the panel down from the wall, and it lowered further to reveal a drop-down desk. “When I told Jake how you liked to keep a journal, he decided to build you a hide-away desk.”
“Jake did that?” she asked, and this time something shivered through her at the realization.
He went to all that effort to make me a pull-down desk? And he didn’t know me?
“Yep, he sure did. You can pull a chair right up to this desk and journal away.”
“Well, I’ll be darned.”
Rachel looked around the loft with a wistful smile. “I love this place. Why, if this cabin had been here when I first arrived—”
“Hey, I thought you got a nice cabin,” Sarah said.
“Oh, I did, I did,” Rachel laughed as she walked to the door. She stopped, her hand resting lightly on the doorknob. “Why,” she added, blushing, “it was in a cabin very like this one that Paul and I first made love.”
“Oh, yuck,” Sarah said. “TMI, TMI!”
“That does TMI mean?”
“Too much information,” Sarah explained, and the sisters laughed.
As Sarah walked into the clinic the following morning, she saw Jake Roundtree, standing in the foyer, his arms crossed over his chest, in much the same pose she’d seen him in the night before, when she and Paul burst into the clinic after their drive from Sitka.
Will I get along with him any better than I did last night?
He sensed her presence and looked up. She inhaled, and his big brown eyes warmed, she smiled, but to her regret, he didn’t smile back at her; no, the smile that creased his face and sent him from dark brooding male hunk, into a friendly and outgoing physician’s assistant, focused entirely on her sister’s face.
Rachel came up behind her, with Olivia on her hip. “Jake, time to show Sarah around the clinic, you ready?”
“Sure,” he said, gazing straight at Rachel. “I’d love to do that.”
“I thought you two might get better acquainted that way,” Rachel said, smiling at Sarah.
“Sounds good,” Sarah said.
Inwardly, she was glad. She longed to apologize for her bad behavior last night, and this was her chance. She’d also get to know Jake Roundtree a little better and thank him profusely for building her a hidden desk, but the prospect of finding herself alone with this gorgeous man frightened her. Honestly, he looked like a model, he was so good looking, so chiseled.
“Before I take Dr. O’Reilly on a tour, what about the tribal dinner tonight? Are you all coming?”
“Yes,” there was hesitation in Rachel’s voice.
“What’s wrong?” Jake asked.
“Paul’s anxious to get back home to Sitka.”
“You’re not driving home in the dark?”
“We’ll stay the night, and we won’t leave tomorrow until we’ve said our proper goodbyes.” She smiled sweetly. “I promise.”
“Okay,” Jake said, scrubbing the crown of Olivia’s head. “Good to know.”
This lovely, intimate scene happened right in front of Sarah, who stood there, feeling like a chump.
And then it hit her, the realization.
He’s afraid to be alone with me as well.
Jake really didn’t like her. He’d taken one look at her, found her to be a poor substitute for the perfect Rachel, and so was delaying the moment when he finally had to take her, the pathetic younger sister, on a tour of the facility.
A surge of sorrow and resentment washed through her.
Okay, fine. I don’t need to fall in love with the guy. I just need to cover my sister’s practice while she recovers from the birth of her baby…
Sarah twisted the so-called friendship ring around her finger and willed herself to relax.
All the rumors about him and Marilyn Palmer . . . that’s all they are, just rumors.
She could live with Roundtree’s indifference. No sense getting upset. He simply didn’t like her as well as he liked Rachel, and it was pretty darn obvious that he really liked Rachel.
Sarah walked a few steps away and studied the artwork on the wall as Jake Roundtree finished discussing the morning’s rotation of
patients with Rachel. She ignored the fact that he ought to have been talking to her about the morning’s patients.
“When are the renovations starting?” Rachel asked.
“The contractors have been hired, and we’re waiting for the architect to finish his revisions.”
“Okay, that’s good, that’s good.”
“Mommy,” Olivia said plaintively, “I need to pee.”
“Oh, well, we better get you to the potty then, hadn’t we?”
Sarah found herself drawn to a painting, or, rather, a copy of a famous painting. A depiction of a time of great sorrow, the trail of tears, when the Cherokee nation were forced from their ancestral home, and forced to march to Oklahoma, thanks to the dictates of President Andrew Jackson. And then the thought struck her, unbidden . . . there’s no art of the Tlingit Tribe in the Medical Clinic.
Surely, there ought to be some authentic tribal art here?
A presence at her side.
“Do you like that painting?”
“Um, well, yes, yes, I do,”
Immediately, she’d said the wrong thing, for Jake Roundtree bristled. “You don’t like Native American art?”
Oh, wow. Tread carefully here, Sarah.
“Oh, cool it,” she said, and laughed, aiming for lightness. “It’s not the real painting, it’s a copy.”
“That’s not my point,” Jake Roundtree said.
“I know,” she said, “but this isn’t an original painting.”
“True,” he said tersely. “The original, painted by Granger, is on display at the Museum of the Cherokee Indian, in Cherokee, North Carolina.”
“Right,” she said. “But I can’t help wondering why you don’t have the Native American art of your own tribe on display in this building.”
“What do you mean?”
“Art that’s more representative of the Tlingit Tribe.”
“We’re working on that,” Jake Roundtree said, through gritted teeth.
What’d I say to get him so angry?
“Well, good,” she turned to gaze at him, but recoiled in shock when she saw the rage in his eyes.
In that moment, she got over her awe of Jake Roundtree. The man might be handsome as all get-out, but he was a bully. She could see it now; he liked to own the room and he liked to own people. Rachel had always been a real people-pleasing kind of person, and she’d raved to Sarah about how wonderful Jake was, but this was Sarah’s first real opportunity to look this guy in the face and realize he wasn’t perfect. She sure as hell could work with him without getting all google-eyed and mushy every time he walked into the room.
