Wild Heat (Northern Fire)

by Lucy Monroe

Tack winced. “He hurt you with that too?”

  Kitty didn’t bother to answer. If Tack hadn’t already figured out that Nevin had used whatever he could to control and demoralize her, she wasn’t going to explain it in further detail.

  The man who had built his own business and a life anyone would be proud of already thought she was damaged and pitiable.

  “Tell me about MacKinnon Bros. Tours,” Caitlin said as Tack pulled back onto the highway.

  She was done dwelling on her past and wasn’t particularly keen to delve further into the present between them. What was left of her pride had taken enough hits for today.

  “It’s my world right now, much to Granddad MacKinnon’s dismay.”

  “Let me guess, he wishes you would get married and have lots of Cailkirn baby residents.” Tack’s grandfather was a card-carrying member of the Northern Lights Service Club of Cailkirn.

  Ostensibly, it was a service organization for men who were permanent residents of the town and over the age of forty. In reality, it was a lot like the Knit & Pearl (which had no age requirement). In practice, both were social clubs dedicated to gossip and the longevity of Cailkirn.

  A woman didn’t have to be interested in knitting, or even own a skein of yarn, in order to join the Knit & Pearl. And a man didn’t have to participate in any of the yearly service projects to maintain membership in NLSC.

  The organizations co-hosted monthly gatherings in the winter to which all the single residents were strongly encouraged to attend. In a word, they were a bunch of matchmakers.

  She refused to consider why the thought of Tack succumbing to their machinations at some point caused her heart to squeeze so tight in her chest.

  “Has your gran started in on you yet?” Tack asked.

  “About what?”

  “Getting married again. Giving her great-grandchildren,” he said, as if it should be obvious.

  Horror rushed through Caitlin, washing away any reaction to the thought of him with a wife and children. “I’m not getting married again. Gran understands that.”

  “So she says.”

  “Yes, she does.” And no matter how much her grandmother and aunts enjoyed matchmaking, they would find out quickly there was no point directing their attempts at Caitlin.

  She was not interested. At all.

  Besides, while the damage she’d done to her reproductive system had been recoverable, Caitlin still wasn’t the best bet for motherhood. She’d have to gain those ten pounds the doctors wanted her to before it was even a good idea to try.

  And she’d have to eat another three to eight hundred calories a day during the pregnancy.

  Caitlin’s stomach went queasy at the very thought.

  “When did you open the guide business?” she asked, determined to change the subject.

  “Right after I graduated from Idaho State.”

  “You liked school better there, didn’t you?”

  He snorted. “You could say that.”

  “California never fit you.” He’d only gone to USC because she’d begged him not to make her go alone.

  And then she’d abandoned him.

  “Nope.”

  “So, you came back from Idaho and started a business?”

  “It’s what I always wanted to do. Dad and Granddad helped me and Egan get it going with a small investment loan. We paid them back in the first two seasons.” Tack sounded proud of that and he should be.

  But there was something in his voice that said it was more than a point of pride for him.

  “Good for you. It’s doing well if you hired another guide, too, not to mention me.”

  “Our tours are popular.”

  “Do you offer winter guide trips?”

  “Snowshoeing over most of the trails we hike in the spring and summer. Licensed hunting and ice fishing.”

  “So, you’re busy year-round?”

  “Yep, though it’s crazy during the summer season. I’m lucky if I get a morning off a week, much less a full day. That’s why it took me so long to get my cabin done.”

  He’d always been a hard worker, but that was insane. There was a time when she would have said so, but not right now. Still, what was driving him to work so hard and put in such long hours?

  “You built your log cabin?” He’d always dreamed of living in an open timber log cabin and had designed it right down to the plumbing by the time they were seniors in high school.

  “Yep.” There was no mistaking the deep satisfaction in that single word. “It’s exactly like I wanted it, including the dining table and chairs built by my dad and granddad.”

  “Their furniture is amazing. I’m surprised neither you nor Egan went into the family business.” Though their uncle hadn’t either.

  “I made my own way.” His tone said that was really important to him. “Bobby’s older brother, Cian, works with Da and Granddad. You remember him?”

  “He was a couple years behind us in school, right?” Bobby had to have been a surprise baby.

  “That’s the one. He apprenticed right out of high school. They’ve got another carpenter working for them too. He came home from Iraq with a bum leg and an intolerance for crowds. He moved to Cailkirn a couple of years ago when life in the Lower Forty-Eight got too congested.”

  “He must not come into town during tourist season.”

  “No, he sure doesn’t. His cabin is farther out than mine.”

  “You built on the land your grandfather left you?”

  Tack’s Inuit grandfather had never reconciled to his daughter’s marriage to a MacKinnon. His relationships with Tack, Egan, and their sister Shila had been different than with his other full-blood Inuit grandchildren, but he’d still left the MacKinnon siblings tracts of land on the outskirts of Cailkirn just as he had the others.

  “Yes. Egan is going to build a home on his land next to mine. Sooner rather than later I expect now that Granddad has decided he’s old enough to marry and produce offspring.”

  Caitlin laughed. “Your grandfather has a one-track mind.”

  “Tell me about it. He’s driving Egan nuts.”

  “You don’t sound particularly sympathetic.”

  “He can suck it up. I’ve been getting the lectures for years now.”

  Tack was twenty-eight, just like Caitlin, but he’d never married. Because of his business.

  Caitlin would exchange years of building her dreams for having them torn to pieces in a heartbeat.

  “By the way, I wanted to thank you for the job. I talked to Aunt Alma and she thinks it’s a good idea too.”

  “Does she?” Tack sounded surprised.

  “She’s not as eager to give up doing the books as you’d think she would be at seventy-two.”

  “Oooh…you better not let her know you spilled the beans on her real age.”

  “What is age except a number? I swear Aunt Elspeth is younger at heart than me.” Sometimes Caitlin felt like her spirit had more gray hair than her aunts and gran hid with their varying shades of red hair dye.

  “She’s younger than half the town, if you’re talking about attitude.”

  “She’s over the moon I’m working for you and Egan.”

  “Why?”

  “You work too hard, according to her. You’re one of her favorites, you know? She doesn’t send tea cakes to all the residents of Cailkirn.”

  “She’s a sweet lady.”

  Caitlin agreed.

  “What about your gran? I can’t see her being happy you’re going to be spending a few hours a day away after just getting you home.”

  “She’s all for it. Well, actually Granddad Ardal is, according to her, and she says he’s grown wise in the afterlife.”

  “I’ve never figured out if she really thinks his ghost talks to her or if she’s having us all on. Your gran has a wicked sense of humor.”

  Caitlin thought back to times she’d found her gran talking to the dead man’s ghost when she couldn’t have known she was being overheard.
“I’m pretty sure it’s not a show.”

  “Then I guess he did get smarter in the afterlife.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “He came back to Cailkirn and has had the intelligence to stick around this time,” Tack teased.

  “Is that a hint?”

  “Your gran thinks you’re staying for good this time.”

  “I am.”

  Tack’s grunt was noncommittal.

  “I’m surprised Shila doesn’t want the job.” If Caitlin remembered correctly, his sister had turned eighteen that year.

  “She’s been helping Aana in the office since she was fifteen.”

  “I bet your mom likes that.” Malina MacKinnon had done all the paperwork for Natural Furnishing, the MacKinnon custom furniture making business, for as long as Caitlin could remember.

  “They get along a lot better than some moms and daughters around town. At least they did until this last year.”

  “What happened then?”

  “They’ve been arguing all year about college.”

  “Does your mom want her to stay here?”

  “No way. Aana has got it in her mind that since Egan and I went to the Lower Forty-Eight for schooling, Shila should, too, and broaden her horizons.”

  “Shila doesn’t want to?”

  “No. She’s already applied to and been accepted by Kenai Peninsula College. Aana hasn’t spoken to her in a week.”

  “That’s serious.”

  Tack gave one of those Alaskan man grunts. “They’ll work it out.”

  “I hope Shila sticks to her guns.”

  “I’m surprised to hear you say that. You were so adamant about going.”

  “Yeah, well, Granddad Ardal wasn’t the only one who got wiser after leaving Cailkirn.”

  Her grandfather hadn’t wanted to stay in Cailkirn and had tried to talk Gran Moya into moving south. She’d refused with no chance at changing her mind. So Ardal Grant had left his wife and small son to make his fortune in the logging camps of Oregon.

  Logging was an even more dangerous job forty-plus years ago than it was today. He’d been maimed in an accident. Ardal had gotten out of the hospital and gone straight to the local bar to drown his sorrows, only to be hit by a logging truck later that night when he was weaving drunkenly down the middle of the road.

  “I’m sorry your sister and mom are at odds, but I’m grateful Shila doesn’t want to be your receptionist. I didn’t know how I was going to pay Gran back the money she lent me to hire a lawyer for the divorce.”

  Tack cast her a measuring glance. “Miz Moya isn’t anything like your bastard of an ex.”

  “Of course not.”

  “You aren’t going to convince me she lent you the money to get your divorce.” Tack downshifted to take a tight turn on a high grade. “She gave it, no strings, or I don’t know Miz Moya like I thought I did.”

  “Just because she didn’t ask me to pay her back doesn’t mean I’m not going to. My divorce wasn’t her responsibility.”

  “Family takes care of family.”

  “Yes, we do and I have every intention of taking care of my grandmother.” He should understand that. “I bet your dad and granddad didn’t ask you to pay back their initial investment in MacKinnon Bros. Tours either.”

  “That’s different.”

  “I don’t see how.”

  “You’re damn stubborn for a woman who let her husband dictate so much of her life.”

  “Definitely not walking on eggshells,” she muttered as he turned off Sterling Highway. Suddenly she realized where they were going.

  The Skilak Lookout Trail. About two and a half miles long, it was a hiking path that went through a more than twenty-year-old burn and led to an amazing lookout over Skilak Lake. There would be some gorgeous wildflowers along the way this time of year.

  Delight bubbled up inside her. “I love this trail.”

  “I remember.”

  It was peaceful and not too long. One of the few easier trails that boasted as much outdoor beauty as those that were a lot longer and harder in incline. There was some raise in altitude on the trail, but nothing she couldn’t manage.

  Even now.

  “Thank you, Tack.”

  “For what?”

  “For giving me back a good memory.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Drama queen. It’s just a hike.”

  “You’re carrying the food.”

  “Damn right I am. You think I’m going to let you withhold my snacks?”

  * * *

  Tack had never once had difficulty controlling his breathing or pulse while hiking the Skilak Lookout Trail.

  Until today.

  Watching Kitty slough off her somber nature step by step stole his breath and increased his heart rate with more efficiency than an extreme hike in the Kenai Mountains.

  The closer they got to the overlook for the lake, the more her old joy sparkled in her pretty blue gaze. In the lightness of her step. In the way she reached out to brush the drizzle-wet leaves of a wild blueberry bush or the moss covering a tree trunk like she was greeting old friends after a long absence.

  It had always been like this, hiking with Kitty. The destination was never more important than the journey, and they would take twice as long to cover the distance than he would alone.

  Unsurprisingly, she stopped to take a picture with her camera phone of one of the many wildflowers along the trail.

  “Do you remember how you used to gather wildflowers with that little digital camera your gran got you for graduating eighth grade?” he asked as she took several shots, trying to get the perfect image.

  She would print the pictures off, then trim them down to a single bloom, which she added to a collage board she kept on the wall of her bedroom. She called it her wildflower bouquet and started a new one every spring.

  Kitty grinned up at him, just like she used to, the expression so unexpected and different than what he’d seen on her so far that it knocked the air right out of him. He wanted to reach out and touch her lips, curved in the innocent pleasure in her surroundings with a lack of self-consciousness he hadn’t been sure she was still capable of feeling.

  This was the Kitty who had captivated his young heart and lustful imagination.

  Her summer sky eyes invited him to share her delight. “I wasn’t about to pick them.”

  No. She might not be the conservationist he was, but Kitty was committed to keeping the wild beauty of Alaska right where it belonged.

  “Are you going to start a new bouquet for this year?”

  She looked startled at his suggestion, uncertainty almost pushing aside her newfound cheerful serenity.

  Then the doubt disappeared and that happiness he’d once taken for granted laced her voice as she said, “You know? I think I will.”

  “Good.” His voice sounded strange to his own ears, but she didn’t seem to notice.

  Kitty held out her camera so he could see the shot she’d taken. “This will make a great beginning, don’t you think?”

  “Yes.” But he was hard-pressed to keep his eyes on the picture when the bounty of beauty that was a joyful Kitty Grant stood right there.

  “Isn’t it gorgeous?” she breathed, her focus on the subject of the digital picture. “It looks so delicate, but here it is, surviving trampling wildlife, frigid nighttime temperatures, and spring rainstorms.”

  “Not all things that look fragile can be destroyed.”

  She tilted her head back to look up at him, her expression still more natural than he’d seen it since she’d come home, but with a thoughtful narrowing of her eyes. “You’re talking about me now, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Two years ago, I would have argued, but here I am,” she said in the same tone she’d used to refer to the wildflower.

  Out of nowhere, the desire to kiss her slammed into him with more power than a bull moose charging a rival. There was so much meaning in those words; they impacted him at a visceral
level no other woman had ever touched. That place in his soul that realized Kitty Grant’s survival had not always been guaranteed. Yes, here she was, but she might not have been.

  The need to connect in a primal way, affirming the reality of her presence, nearly overcame him. He could almost feel her silky lips under his, swore he could taste the sweetness of her mouth.

  She cocked her head to one side, her red curls glowing bright in the on-again-off-again spring sunshine. “Is something wrong?”

  He shook his head. If he opened his mouth, he’d blurt out something better left unsaid.

  He didn’t do casual sex with local women and he couldn’t have anything but casual with Kitty Grant. She was the one woman he refused to consider a future with.

  There was as much chance that she’d leave Cailkirn for the lure of the big city again than that she’d stay. A bigger chance, if he was laying odds and being realistic.

  Besides, for all her smiles now, this fragile woman had a long way to travel back from broken.

  “You’ve got a strange expression on your face,” she mused.

  He could only be grateful she didn’t recognize pure, unadorned desire when she saw it. She never had back in the day, and several years of marriage had not improved her perceptivity on that score.

  Which made him standing like a simpleton while she reached up to cup his cheek about as stupid as he could get in that moment.

  “You always were the best this state had to offer and you still are Taqukaq MacKinnon.” Her words worked where all his self-control might have failed.

  He jerked back, stepping away to put some distance between them. “The best of home wasn’t good enough for you, though, was it?”

  There had been a time he’d been willing to offer this woman everything. But those days were long past, and he damn well better remember it if he hoped to convince her.

  Kitty ducked her head without answering, her sparkle dimming just like that.

  He stifled a curse, knowing he could have been kinder. Or just not replied at all, damn it.

  She made a production of taking more pictures before setting off along the trail again, her silence of a completely different quality now.

  Tack followed her, berating himself for the harsh words. Even if they were the truth.

  She stopped every so often to take more pictures of flowers, bushes, a deer through the trees, the sad pall that had fallen over her after his words lifting bit by bit. And the regret that had been riding him for causing her to fall back to her more subdued self dissipated right along with it.