Let that be a lesson, she told herself as she turned the key in the ignition. Kate Robinson can’t afford any Stupid Things.
No matter how hot they looked in a black cowboy hat.
Emma was already up and about, tossing feed to her beloved chickens and her flock of “guard” geese, when Kate crested the sloping drive that delivered workers and occasional visitors to the farm. She wore her purple flannel pajamas and clogs—her usual morning chores outfit.
Emma had lived a wild life. Her past careers included dog musher, crab fisher, city councilperson, and that was just scratching the surface. Occasionally she’d drop a casual comment about cooking at the North Slope or hitching a ride on a cargo ship that would blow Kate’s mind.
The first time Kate’s parents had sent her to Lost Harbor to stay with Emma, they’d been negotiating their divorce. Kate had been a hurt and angry pre-teen who’d had no idea such a thing as a peony farm existed.
She’d thrown herself into the summer peony harvest because it was something to do, and because she adored her grandma. Emma didn’t mind if Kate acted like a brat and dropped curse words. She seemed to understand why she got into so much trouble.
After all, Emma was a hard-core adventurer whose one marriage had lasted only long enough to have a baby girl. She’d decided at the age of sixty-five that she wanted to slow down and smell the flowers. For someone with her degree of energy, that meant buying a piece of land and creating a peony farm.
The name Petal to the Metal pretty much described her entire attitude toward life. It also paid tribute to her lifelong love of Harleys.
Emma knew that something bad had happened in LA, and she knew that it involved Kate’s dad, Frank Robinson. She even knew that Kate had come back to Lost Harbor because she was afraid. Kate had tried to spare her the details, but much of the story had slipped out.
The day after Kate had arrived, Emma had shown off her collection of firearms. “I won’t ask any questions, but just in case,” she’d said, hefting a hunting rifle in one hand. “I want you to know I’m ready.”
“Ready for what? A peony uprising?”
Even though they’d both laughed, Kate was grateful for the thought.
However, the last thing she wanted was for Emma to get into a shootout with anyone from her father’s orbit.
One more reason to move into the house on Fairview Court.
As Kate stepped out of the Saab, Emma waved her over.
Kate zipped up her jacket and picked her way across the grass in her high-heeled boots. A wandering goose honked at her as she passed.
“Juicy night?” Emma asked with a wink.
Apparently the “no questions” policy didn’t apply to the ol’ walk of shame.
“Not even close,” Kate told her. “Well, it might have been close. I did wake up in a strange bed. But the man in question was across the room asleep in a chair, so that doesn’t really add up to juicy.”
“Eh.” Emma cocked her head and made a clucking sound at one of her hens. “First late night since you got back, and no story to tell. Sure is different from your teenage years.”
Kate laughed. “Maybe I’m waiting until I’m in my own place with no nosy old lady waiting for a report. ”
“Don’t talk nonsense.” Emma scattered a handful of feed to her favorite Rhode Island Red hen. “You can’t move into town. I rented the house out.”
“Yeah, I noticed. I’m working on that, but until then, I’ll just move into the upstairs.”
“The upstairs? It needs to be redone. That’s why I haven’t rented it out. The floors need to be stripped, the—”
“Emma. I can handle all that. I’m not a princess, despite all this glamour.” She gestured wryly at her bedhead hair and wrinkled clothes. “It’s better for both of us if we’re not on top of each other. I’ll still be helping out through the harvest.”
“Such a stubborn thing you are. Don’t know where you get it from.”
“Yeah, it’s a real mystery,” Kate said wryly.
Emma turned to the hen. “You featherbrained piece of fluff, what are you waiting for? That’s an avocado peel. You love those and they cost five bucks apiece. You might as well be a tea cozy for all the brains you have.”
Kate smothered a laugh at the way her affectionate tone contrasted with her berating words. The hen didn’t seem one bit bothered, though it did deign to peck at the avocado peel.
“I’m going to change my clothes and shower off.” Her hand involuntarily went to her head, which drew Emma’s attention.
“You’re hurt?” A frown gathered on her forehead.
“Oh, just your everyday ordinary bar brawl. Flying bottles, crashing basses, that sort of thing.”
An image from last night swam to mind. Darius leaning over her with an ice pack. The impact of all that thick dark hair and those gleaming silvery eyes, that sexy jaw stubble and heady masculine scent. He sure packed a powerful punch of pheromones.
Too bad she’d never see the man again.
“Are you okay?” Emma was asking.
“Oh yeah. Fine. I just need some coffee. I’ll do some work on the new plantings, then later I’m going to drive down to Fairview Court and check things out, maybe move a couple of boxes down. Mind if I borrow a truck?”
“It’s pointless to argue with you, I suppose.”
“It is. My mind’s made up.”
“Then I’ll just argue with these chickens instead. They’re more reasonable.”
Emma turned back to her flock. Kate headed for the farmhouse, which had been built in the early days of Lost Harbor’s existence. Everywhere she looked, there was a piece of antique equipment—an old-fashioned clothes wringer or an ironwork boot scraper. It was part of the charm of the place, and about as far from Kate’s LA condo as could be.
Her little guest room had an enamel bowl and water pitcher, along with an aluminum lidded chamber pot.
Cute, but she drew the line at chamber pots.
After a lengthy shower, she filled an insulated thermos with coffee and wandered down to the peony fields. Emma had organized the plots according to their harvest time and the color of the cultivars, from the gorgeous deep pink of the Edulis Superba to the much-in-demand coral of the Coral Sunset.
The Alaska peony industry existed only because it was one of the few places in the world where peonies bloomed from July to as late as September. Since Alaska thawed so much later than anywhere else with appropriate growing conditions, Alaska peonies bloomed after everyone else’s had already gone by.
So if you were a summer bride who wanted fresh peonies for your wedding, your only option in the entire world was one of the peony farms in Alaska.
Kate knew that most people thought of salmon or king crab or goldmining when they thought about Alaskan industries. But peony farms did pretty well too. Emma spent most of the year protecting, weeding, and irrigating the bushes, then went through an insanely busy few weeks of harvest in the summer. Petal to the Metal had several huge walk-in coolers where they stored the stems before they were shipped out.
Right now, in late April, the big task was scouting for botrytis, a gray mold that caused cankers to form on the peony stems. Every canker had to be cut out with a knife—which made it the perfect job for Emma’s afterschool worker, a teenage girl named S.G., who’d arrived in Lost Harbor with a hunting knife and clothes made from animal hides.
Even in a town full of eccentrics, the girl stood out because of her mysterious origins. S.G. stood for Spruce Grouse, a name she’d chosen herself because she didn’t know her real name. She’d been raised in Lost Souls Wilderness by a trapper who refused to say where he’d found her.
Kate spotted her working a row of Edulis Superba. She wore a “botrytis bag” around her neck to stash the scraps of mold in. With her lower lip between her teeth, she was carefully carving a canker from a stem.
“Morning, Kiddo,” Kate greeted the girl. “Getting in a couple hours before school?”
; S.G. shrugged. “School’s boring today. I don’t want to go.”
“Oh no. You’re not skipping school for this job. That’s one of the terms and conditions of your employment, remember?”
She winced at her own legalese. Sometimes she forgot to phrase things like a regular person.
“But Kate, it’s really seriously very boring today. There’s a job fair. And I already have a job.” She popped the piece of diseased stem in her bag, then used a bottle of alcohol to disinfect her blade. It was very important not to spread the botrytis through the crop.
Kate squatted next to her. In her overalls and mud boots, her pale hair in two braids, S.G. looked like any other Lost Harbor kid, but she’d been through so much. After running away from the trapper, she’d hidden out in the local firehouse for weeks. She’d used their shower, filched food from their refrigerator, and spied on the firefighters.
Firefighters…that reminded her of Darius. That man had a pesky way of popping into her thoughts at random moments. She wondered where he was now. Probably on his way back to Oregon with the band.
“Kate?” She started. S.G. was frowning at her, and she realized she’d completely zoned out thinking about Darius.
“Sorry. Job fair. It’s a good thing. You might want to learn about other jobs. Fishing boats, barista like Gretel, police officer like Maya.”
“Doctor like Bethany?”
“Absolutely. Or a lawyer like me.”
S.G. shrugged and wrinkled her nose, making Kate laugh.
“I saw that face. I’ll remember that if you ever need a lawyer.”
She rose to her feet and took a deep breath of the pure air, which was saturated with the rich scent of spring soil and a tinge of isopropyl alcohol.
“Hey, kid, since you’re already skipping school, would you like another job for the day?”
“What job?”
“I could use a hand moving my stuff into my new house.”
S.G. frowned in confusion. “You don’t have hands?”
“It’s a phrase. It means to help someone.”
Since S.G. had been raised in the wilderness, her vocabulary and understanding of the world could be very sketchy. She knew everything about hunting and nothing about math, for instance. The trapper, who’d turned out to be a criminal on the run, hadn’t bothered to give her an education, so now she was making up for lost time. She was being fostered by Denaina, who owned the property next door, which was how Emma first came to know her.
Kate had clicked with S.G. right away; she’d always connected to teenagers and their troubles. She’d even spent some time helping her with her schoolwork. S.G. was learning fast, but every once in a while a gap in her education would surface—and it could be something completely unexpected. Like the phrase “give me a hand.”
“You want my help moving? Why are you moving?”
“So Emma and I don’t kill each other before the peony harvest. That’s a bad joke, by the way.” S.G. didn’t always get sarcasm. “I’ll pay you the same as you’re getting here and I’ll even throw in lunch.”
“Okay.” S.G. shrugged and stood up, wiping her hands on her overalls. “Cheeseburgers?”
“Cheeseburgers. Sure.”
“Do you want to go now?”
“I still have some packing to do. I should be ready by lunchtime. Thanks, kid.”
On her way back to the farmhouse, she stopped to admire Emma’s newest plot. She’d planted it three autumns ago, and this would be its first year to produce sellable blooms. Even though Kate had seen photos of their enormous brilliant pink blossoms, she couldn’t wait to see one—and smell their intoxicating rose-like fragrance—for herself.
With a laugh at her own excitement—what self-respecting cynical lawyer would get so carried away over a Mon Jules Elie—she hurried back to the farmhouse.
Chapter Seven
Emma had thrown open the door to the barnlike structure next to the house. It was more of a warehouse than a barn, since she didn’t keep farm animals.
“I got all the furniture you could ever want in here,” she called to Kate. “Things I’ve been collecting here and there. You can take what you need.”
“Seriously?” Kate joined her and gazed into the crammed space. “That’s amazing. You could probably furnish ten houses with all that. Is there a brand-new mattress in there, by chance?”
“Couple of them.”
That was just one of the reasons Kate loved her grandmother. She knew how to offer the right kind of support at the exact moment it was needed.
Kate slung an arm over her grandmother’s shoulder and pulled her in for a hug. “You’re the best, Emma.” She dropped a kiss on her gray-streaked black hair. “Where would I be without you?”
“Women’s Correctional Institute?”
“Very likely. I’ll go through this stuff later. I’m going to keep it simple for this first trip. Boxes and suitcases.”
After she’d loaded Emma’s pickup, she called out to S.G.. The girl came dashing up the slope from the peony field, shooing away geese as she ran. Kate tried to imagine another teenage girl who would work nonstop from morning to lunch without a single break or complaint, and failed. One more bit of proof that S.G. was no ordinary girl.
“Can I try driving?” she asked as soon as she’d hopped in the passenger seat.
Okay, maybe she had some normal teenage tendencies.
“Some other time. My load’s a little too precarious.”
As she pulled out of the turnaround, she sent nervous glances in the rearview mirror toward the pile of boxes in the bed of the truck. She’d run a strap over the load, but something told her she hadn’t done it right. The boxes were already shifting around and they hadn’t even hit the muddy part yet.
“Should have let me do it,” said S.G. matter-of-factly. “I’m good with loads.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Kate murmured. “You’re a true Alaska chick.”
“I’m a chicken?”
“It means girl. Sorry. Actually, forget I said that. You don’t need to know all the words.”
They reached the road that led into town. The snow had melted enough to reveal patches of green, which grew more frequent the closer they came to town. Spring took its sweet time coming to Lost Harbor, but it was worth the wait. The wistful call of a varied thrush floating through the morning air could make a grown woman cry.
“I found a boy,” S.G. said as they took one of the hairpin curves in the road.
“Uh oh. That sounds like trouble.”
“He might be in trouble. I don’t know.”
Kate frowned, her attention divided between S.G. and a box that was now threatening to tumble off the truck. “What’s his name?”
“He doesn’t want to tell me.”
“That’s not a good sign.”
“I think he’s afraid.”
Kate could well imagine that S.G., with her unusual history, could be intimidating to the boys around here. To any boys, really.
“Because he knows how good you are with knives?”
“No. I mean, he doesn’t know that. I don’t carry my knife anymore, the school won’t let me.”
“Seems like a reasonable policy.”
S.G. shrugged. She was very attached to her hunting knife and unnervingly skilled with it.
“So this boy…do you know him from school?”
S.G. didn’t answer that question, instead posing one of her own. “Can he work at the farm too? He needs a job.”
“Maybe. We’d need to know his name, though. Bring him by and we’ll talk to him. Okay, this is the street. Fairview Court. Pretty, isn’t it?” The street took a slow, lazy curve just above town. Between homes she got peeks of the sparkling blue waters of Misty Bay. Birch trees and spruce offered some privacy, but this was a much more populated neighborhood than the ridge where the farm was located.
“So many houses.” S.G. gave a little shudder.
“Yeah, well, I grew up in the suburbs
, so this is normal to me. You might not know what a suburb is, but this neighborhood is as close as Lost Harbor gets. There, that’s the one!” She pointed to a fairly new split-level house with oyster-pink siding. A staircase painted blue marched along the outer wall to the upstairs. It was going to be a pain in the ass to move her stuff in. On the upside, the upstairs had a huge front deck and sliding glass doors with a view of the ocean.
The downstairs, on the other hand, had all the other good stuff—a deluxe master bedroom and a fully modernized kitchen. More importantly, it had a security system. That alone made it worth fighting for.
She pulled into the driveway next to a motorcycle that was already parked in front of the garage.
Great, the tenant was here. Perfect timing. She could give him his thirty days’ notice. She even had the paperwork ready. Noticing that her bag had slid off her lap onto the floorboards, she bent down to grab it.
“Hey, there’s Darius!” exclaimed S.G..
Kate jumped, and her head hit the steering wheel. “Crap,” she muttered. Of all the random names, why did S.G. have to say that one?
Carefully, she maneuvered her head from under the steering wheel, bag in hand. “You scared me, S.G..”
“Darius isn’t as scary as he looks,” the girl said cheerfully. She waved at someone Kate couldn’t quite see. “He’s actually nice. He taught me how to play darts at the firehouse.”
Uh oh. A sinking feeling settled into Kate’s stomach. The firehouse? Darius had said he was a firefighter. He couldn’t possibly be…
She craned her neck to see who S.G. was waving at.
And there he came, striding down the sidewalk with a dog bouncing at his heels. Looking just as big and mouthwatering and lust-inspiring as he’d looked last night. The black t-shirt was gone, and in its place he wore a faded t-shirt with a band she couldn’t make out. His workout sweats were ripped off at the knees, revealing unbelievably muscular calves.
Apparently he’d been running, because his hair was thickened with sweat and a triangle of dampness darkened his t-shirt. He lifted the bottom edge to wipe sweat off his face. The sight of his muscular abdomen and the dark covering of curls sent heat lancing through her.
Naughty All Night (Lost Harbor, Alaska Book 5) Page 5
