Wild Heat (Northern Fire)

by Lucy Monroe

  “Is Granddad still happy he hired Lee for the workshop?” Tack asked his mother.

  Malina’s brows drew together in an almost frown. “He’s quiet, but your granddad says he’s good with the wood.”

  “Dad and Cian seem to like him,” Tack agreed before his mother could return to grilling Caitlin.

  Caitlin didn’t really understand why he was pursuing this line of discussion or what Malina found unpleasant about it.

  But the older woman had a definite frown on her face now. “You’ll see everyone tonight. Ask your dad himself if you want to know how he feels about their new carpenter.”

  “You know how raucous clan dinners get,” Tack said with a shrug, ignoring his mother’s unexpected annoyance.

  Unexpected to Caitlin anyway. Maybe Tack knew talking about the new carpenter would irritate her. Was he trying to run interference for Caitlin?

  “They do, at that.” Malina smiled tightly. “They all get along fine. Lee is a good addition to the workshop and he’s taken some of the strain off the others.”

  It was clear from her tone that Tack’s mom expected that to end the conversation about the newest employee for Natural Furnishings, his family’s custom-built furniture business.

  Malina turned a much warmer smile on Caitlin. “There’s demand for their furniture from Alaska, and from Canada and the Lower Forty-Eight as well.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Caitlin said. “They do beautiful work.”

  Malina nodded. “It’s always a blessing when a person can do what they love and get paid for it.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “What about you? Do you plan to take over the bed-and-breakfast one day?”

  It was a question she expected to get frequently, so Caitlin had formulated an answer she could live with. “Gran and my aunts aren’t anywhere near ready to give up the reins.”

  “No doubt. They are capable and tenacious women. We’d all do well to take a page out of their book.”

  “I agree.”

  Their food arrived and conversation stopped while the waitress arranged plates on the table. Malina regarded Caitlin’s salad with disapproval.

  She caught the arm of the waitress before she left. “I believe you forgot the dressing for Caitlin’s salad.”

  “She didn’t order any dressing, Miss MacKinnon.”

  “Well, then you should have offered it.” Malina addressed Caitlin. “They’ve got a lovely house dressing here. I’ve tried to talk Tyler out of the recipe more than once. He won’t part with it, though.”

  Caitlin did her best to keep her voice even as she said, “I prefer my salad dry.”

  “Nonsense.” Malina patted the waitress’s arm. “Bring her some of the house dressing.” The older woman told Caitlin, “Once you taste it, you’ll be hooked, believe me.”

  Caitlin didn’t bother to argue.

  Tack tensed beside her. “Aana,” he admonished.

  “What, son?” Malina asked, clearly taken aback at his tone.

  “Caitlin is an adult. I doubt she appreciates you ordering for her like a child.”

  “But I’m just trying to make sure she enjoys her lunch,” Malina said, clearly hurt by her son’s criticism or the idea that she’d been overbearing.

  “I know,” Tack said, rubbing his temples like he always did when he was really frustrated.

  Malina’s eyes widened, surprise evident in their depths. She very obviously did not understand why her son would be irritated with her.

  Honestly, Caitlin didn’t either.

  Malina wasn’t doing anything different than she’d always done. She fussed over the people she cared about. It wasn’t Malina’s fault that fussing caused Caitlin more distress than comfort.

  Another layer of stress tightened the twisted knots inside her at the thought of mother and son at odds on her behalf. “It’s fine.”

  “There, you see?” Malina asked. “She knows I’m just looking out for her, Taqukaq.”

  “She’s just too polite to tell you to stop,” Tack said, refusing to drop it.

  Which frankly surprised Caitlin. Again. Malina’s children did not often disagree with their mother, and never over something trivial like this. Especially her sons.

  Or at least that was the way it used to be.

  “Eat your lunch, son.” There was clear command in Malina’s tone and it was easy to see how she’d kept three strong-minded children in line during the most challenging parts of childhood.

  The table fell into silence as both Caitlin’s companions began to do just that. Caitlin poured the dressing on her salad and then moved the lettuce and chicken around, coating it evenly. She did a good job of picking at it, which made it appear to the unobservant that she was eating too.

  However, it was beyond her to take even a single bite. The only thing worse than skipping a meal was knowing she would not keep it down if she forced herself to eat it.

  Thankfully, mother and son were too busy simmering with unaccustomed discord to notice.

  Malina had eaten a good portion of her lunch before she asked, “Do you like working for the boys?”

  “Very much.” Despite her discomfort in Tack’s presence now that she knew he saw her as permanently damaged goods in need of help, Caitlin enjoyed working in the tour office.

  “I’m glad. They’re usually very pleasant to be around.”

  That observation almost made Caitlin smile, because Tack could be pretty impatient and demanding and Egan didn’t always know when to stop joking. Malina was right, though—they were pretty good people to work with.

  “I wonder if you’re going to want to pursue something more along the lines of a career,” Malina asked. “What with having your degree in business now.”

  Gran would have told her. Caitlin didn’t mind. She was glad her family was proud of her finishing school, and she wasn’t about to hide it like some dirty secret.

  That didn’t mean she was looking to be the next female governor of Alaska, though. “Sometimes a good job is better than a career.”

  Malina nodded, approval shining brightly in her dark eyes. “I couldn’t agree more. I’ve always enjoyed running the office side of things for Natural Furnishings.”

  “How did you get started doing it?” Caitlin asked.

  “Fergus’s dad was always complaining about the paperwork. When Fergus started in on it, too, I knew something had to be done, if only to have more pleasant conversation at our dinner table. We discovered I had a knack and the rest is history.”

  “Da says Aana is more than half the reason their workshop has grown to be in such high demand.”

  Pleasure at the compliment covered Malina’s features. “Nonsense, but they did need organizing and that’s no lie.”

  “I’m surprised Gran MacKinnon didn’t do it to begin with,” Caitlin admitted.

  “Oh no, my mother-in-law is a woman who knows her own mind and she’s busy enough with her garden in the summer and greenhouse year-round.”

  Malina finished her chicken salad sandwich and then looked at Caitlin’s salad. “Have you eaten anything, dear?”

  Unwilling to lie, Caitlin shrugged. “I’m not very hungry.”

  “But I’m sure your grandmother said you can’t afford to skip meals.”

  Caitlin didn’t have an answer for her.

  Tack did apparently. He stood up, taking Caitlin by the arm. “No, she can’t. Do you mind getting the check, Aana?”

  “No, of course not, but you’re leaving? I thought we could chat over coffee.”

  “Kitty and I have a few things to discuss. I’m sorry, but we’ll see you tonight.” He tugged Caitlin out of the booth as he spoke.

  Not wanting to make a scene, and frankly happy to leave, Caitlin didn’t balk. They stopped by the coat rack at the front door and he helped her into her trench.

  When they got outside, he kept his hand on the small of her back, using it to guide her down the alley that led to the parking area behind his tour office.


  “I walked from the bed-and-breakfast today.” She’d been getting up forty-five minutes earlier so she could get everything done she needed to for the Knit & Pearl and still make the two-plus-mile walk between her two jobs.

  The exercise was good for her.

  Caitlin dismissed the small voice that reminded her that her doctor back in LA had told her walking was ideal exercise, but she needed to make sure she increased her caloric intake if she was going to walk more than two miles a day, so she didn’t start losing weight again.

  He’d also encouraged her strongly not to power walk.

  The fact that she walked a brisk four miles per hour for a total of almost five miles a day wasn’t something she dwelled on.

  Tack gave her another of the probing looks she’d come to dislike so much. “I know.”

  She didn’t ask why he was taking her to the parking area if he knew she hadn’t driven to work. She wasn’t walking back to the Knit & Pearl in her heels, but her tennis shoes were under her desk inside the building they were now walking around.

  He stopped by his truck, pulling out his keys and pressing the unlock button. “I thought you might like to see my cabin.”

  “I would,” she said before her brain caught up with her mouth.

  She did want to see the results of all those teenage dreams, but she didn’t understand why he was inviting her now.

  “Good.” He opened the passenger door and gave her a boost inside, practically lifting her, a growl she didn’t understand falling from his lips as he stepped back. “Buckle up.”

  He didn’t say another word as he got into the truck, pulled onto the main streets of town, and then headed out of Cailkirn.

  “Tack?”

  “What?”

  “Why are we going to your cabin?”

  “You have the afternoon off. Did you have something else planned?”

  “You know I didn’t.” He’d made sure of it.

  “Well, then.”

  “That’s not an answer. Your mom wanted us to stay and visit.”

  “Did you want to stay and talk?”

  “No.” Eating lunch had caused a temporary lull in the inquisition, but it would have started again over coffee. Of that, Caitlin had no doubts.

  “So, here we are.”

  “I still don’t understand.”

  “You want to see my cabin. Let’s just leave it at that.”

  Confused but convinced further prompting wouldn’t result in any more clarity, Caitlin kept quiet on the drive to Tack’s home. She enjoyed the passing scenery as she always did, the natural beauty of their area never growing old for her.

  His place was farther out of town than she remembered, and not off the major highway.

  “Is it hard to get out to the main roads in winter?” she asked as they traveled down a long drive.

  “My truck’s a four-by-four with a solid engine and frame, so it takes a lot to trap me with the weather. I’ve got a snowmobile for the really big snowfalls.”

  “You have a snowmobile?” she asked in shock. “You always said how much you hated their noise.”

  “I don’t use it for recreation.”

  “Just emergencies, huh?” Still. Wow. She guessed they’d both changed some in the past eight years.

  “Exactly.”

  He might not want to use it for recreation, but Caitlin had no qualms about doing so. “I want to go on a ride.”

  “If you’re still here when the snow’s thick enough, I’ll take you out.”

  “That was too easy.” But then maybe he really didn’t think she’d stick it out through the winter.

  He’d learn. Caitlin had lost her family twice. Once by accident and the second time by design, but now that she had her gran and great-aunts back in her life, she wasn’t letting them go again.

  She gasped at her first sight of the cabin as they broke out of the forest. His driveway ended in a clearing big enough for a house, outbuildings (including a small greenhouse), and a garden that was at least a quarter of an acre in size.

  Absolutely breathtaking, the house was made entirely of stone and exposed logs, and it was really too big for the moniker cabin.

  “It’s huge.”

  “Two stories with a cellar,” he said proudly.

  She counted the chimneys poking up from the roof. “Two fireplaces?”

  “Three, actually.”

  “You’re using them for your main heating source?” she asked in surprise.

  He’d always said he would only have more than one hearth in his home if he was using fireplaces as his primary heating source. Tack had also been adamant he didn’t plan to do so.

  Kitty had argued that a fire in the hearth was cozy and helped make a house into a home. She’d always said she wanted one in her bedroom and the main living area.

  Nevin had derisively laughed off her suggestion they have a fireplace installed in their home. His home.

  “No.” Tack didn’t add anything to his stark denial.

  Curiosity pushed aside Caitlin’s lingering anxiety. “What rooms are they in?”

  “Come inside and see.” He pulled the truck to a stop in front of steps leading up to the porch.

  She eagerly climbed out of the cab, closing her door as he came around the hood and offered his hand.

  She stared at it for several long seconds, confusion warring with desire. She wanted to take it, for this moment to be like old times, but that hadn’t worked so well on the Skilak Lookout Trail.

  “Come on,” he urged, his hand still out there, inviting her to take a chance. “It even has the dry sauna you told me any self-respecting house in Alaska should have.”

  He’d never laughed at her, despite how impractical the suggestion might have seemed to some. Regardless, she wouldn’t have expected him to actually install one in his home.

  Tack didn’t live by other people’s rules, though.

  Making her decision, Caitlin slid her hand into his hand and let him draw her up the steps and onto the porch. “You put up a swing.”

  “A family home should have a swing on its porch.”

  She agreed, though she felt a pang at the idea of Tack sharing this house with a family. She liked the Adirondack chairs and fat log planed smooth for a table between them sitting on the other side of the porch.

  There wasn’t much point in investing in more furniture for outdoor relaxation than that. Alaskans spent plenty of time outside, both summer and winter, but more often in active pursuits.

  The tightly woven welcome mat she automatically wiped her feet on depicted two eagles facing each other in the traditional Inuit way. The big heavy door it stood in front of was carved with the Celtic symbol for happiness. Both sides of Taqukaq MacKinnon blessing the entrance to his home.

  Tack pushed the door open without pulling out a key. “I only lock it during tourist season,” he said as if she’d asked a question.

  “You know, war vets aren’t the only people who come to Alaska to avoid something.” There was a long history of criminals fleeing to the “wild north” to avoid the consequences of their actions.

  “The Kenai Peninsula is both too developed and too entrenched with small-town familiarity to make a good hiding place for someone with a dark past.”

  “Are you saying the interior is a safer bet?” she asked absently, taking in the beautiful great room that took up the entire width of the house.

  It opened into the kitchen at the end with the dining table, making a big L-shaped living area.

  “Safer? With a missing persons rate twice the national average, I don’t think Alaska could be considered a safe haven for just any flatfoot looking for a place to hide,” Tack scoffed.

  Considering the state also had the highest percentage of missing persons in the country who stayed lost, she had to agree with him. “Some people don’t want to be found?”

  “And that works a lot better in less organized boroughs.”

  She nodded absently, her interest
in the topic waning. She was far more intrigued by Tack’s home and what it revealed about the man he’d become.

  The ecru walls were finished, but exposed logs accented the lines of the huge room and the open loft above. More large traditional woven rugs were scattered over gleaming hardwood floors.

  She took off her coat and hung it on one of the hooks on the wall to the left of the door, the house comfortably warm.

  “It feels good.” She looked but didn’t see heating vents or radiators. “Radiant heat?”

  “It runs under the floors. There are no cold spots in my house,” he said with pride.

  Well deserved, she thought. “Did you install a geothermal heat pump?” It seemed like something a man as dedicated to energy and wildlife conservation as him would do.

  Tack nodded. “It was a bitch to dig, but worth it. There’s a biomass gasification boiler in the cellar for when the temperatures drop too low too fast.”

  “I have no idea what that is,” she admitted. “But it sounds cool.”

  He smiled. “It’s basically a boiler fueled with scrap wood, brush, and firewood in a pinch.”

  She walked over to the solid wood dining set, sturdy enough for even Tack’s towering frame to sit in without worry of mishap. Six dark-stained ladder-back chairs sat around a large, family style table. Two matching chairs against the wall had a chess table between them, the board set up for play.

  She picked up one of the heavy pewter pieces. “Your dad taught us to play on this set.”

  “He gave it to me when I finished the cabin, along with the game table as a housewarming gift.”

  “Not the dining set?”

  “Nope. I commissioned that from Granddad. The hutch was his gift to me.”

  Made of the same dark-stained wood, it was built into the other wall from the chess table. It was beautiful, the workmanship superior to anything that could be found in a factory-stocked furniture store.

  “These are lovely,” she said of the antique Inuit baskets gracing the top open shelf.

  “Emaa gave them to me. Her grandmother wove them as part of her wedding dowry.”

  Caitlin didn’t have to ask where the ornate silver tea service on the shelf below came from. She remembered his Scottish grandmother serving them afternoon tea from it at least once a week.