Jake's Biggest Risk

THE NEXT MORNING, Jake woke as the sun was rising and realized he had fallen asleep on the couch.

He was stiff, but some of the pain had subsided and a fine view greeted him through the windows overlooking the lake. The snowcapped peaks beyond were reflected on the water’s surface and he stared out for a while. Where was his impulse to capture the view in a unique way? Taking pictures had been his driving force since childhood, yet he had zero desire to start working.

God.

Maybe it was too pretty. That must be the problem. Why he’d ever agreed to doing a damned book on the northern Cascade Mountains was beyond him. The Cascades had been photographed to death; there was nothing new or unusual about them. He was going to be bored out of his skull.

But even more important...how was he going to put his trademark adventurous stamp on the book? The thought of people rolling their eyes and saying he’d lost his touch because of the accident was unacceptable. And he’d already faced that scenario once before.

Jake gritted his teeth.

He had never intended to be a traditional photojournalist. He’d gone to the Middle East to help out an acquaintance whose wife was having a difficult pregnancy, but after receiving the Pulitzer, at least a dozen interviewers had asked, “How will you top this?” Hell, “topping” pictures of people killing each other was the last thing he was interested in doing.

His stomach rumbled and he got up.

Andy had insisted they stop and buy groceries in Mahalaton Lake, so Jake made his standby in all climates and altitudes—a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich. It wasn’t inspiring, but cooking was not one of his skills. He always kept peanut butter in his backpack while traveling, and it wasn’t bad on most local breads.

Munching on the sandwich, he wandered around the lodge. The spacious sunroom off the kitchen had tall windows on three sides, providing a view of the lake, the guesthouse and the wooded drive leading in from the road. A huge master bedroom suite was on the opposite side of the house. Other main floor rooms included a well-equipped utility room, two powder rooms, a library and formal dining area. Upstairs there were additional bedrooms and baths, with a family room in the center, and beneath the house was a half basement that provided storage.

It was far more space than Jake needed, but had the benefit of being outside a town, and the natural wood beams and high ceilings gave it a relaxed, faintly rustic feel. And there were artifacts scattered here and there from around the world, such as jade carvings, masks from various tribes and pottery. In a curious way it was soothing to be surrounded by some of the things he’d seen in his travels. Perhaps that was why Andy had urged him to lease the lodge.

Slowly he began sorting out his equipment and other supplies. The cameras he’d taken to Alaska had been destroyed in the crash, but Toby had personally brought Jake’s backup gear from the studio he kept in Costa Rica.

Toby...

A reluctant grin creased Jake’s mouth. Toby had bitched his usual stream of complaints, saying the magazine was willing to wait for its photos since they didn’t have any “goddamned choice,” and if Jake planned to go back to that frigging place, he was going alone.

This time it actually sounded as if he meant it.

Even so, Jake had expected he’d come along to Mahalaton Lake until Toby had sheepishly confessed that he and Vera were getting married in a few weeks and he was starting another job. Marriage was a career ender as far as Jake was concerned, at least for any career that involved extensive travel. Vera was a terrific woman, but she’d made it clear often enough that she wanted Toby at home.

Jake rubbed his face, rough with beard stubble, and stepped to the bank of windows. The day was lighter now, though the sky was still pink from the sunrise. The dog he’d seen the previous day was racing along the shore below, his fur flying in silky waves. It stopped, grabbed a stick in its mouth and ran back to its human companion—presumably Hannah Nolan.

He grimaced. An apology was in order; he’d behaved with the grace of an ill-tempered water buffalo. He let himself out a side door and walked down the grassy slope toward his landlady. The dog noticed him first, dropping his stick and hurrying to his mistress’s side.

“Did you have a good night, Mr. Hollister?” Hannah asked politely when he got within earshot.

“Good enough.”

He’d slept for eleven straight hours on the wide leather couch—much longer than he would have in the hospital with their constant health checks. Getting chilled and stiff from his position on the sofa was his own fault.

Jake gestured to the golden retriever who was regarding him suspiciously. “Who is this?”

Hannah put her hand on the animal’s head and stroked it. “His name is Badger. But don’t worry—I won’t let him come into Huckleberry Lodge.”

“He’s welcome. I like dogs. Where is your son?”

“Still in bed. Danny isn’t a morning person.”

“Neither am I,” Jake said absently.

Her lips pressed together in a flat line and he wondered what she wanted to say—it was amusing the way she was obviously trying to guard her tongue.

“Anyway,” he continued, “let me apologize for yesterday. I didn’t behave well.”

“Okay. You’ve apologized.”

“Uh...how far do you have to go from here to see any wildlife?” Jake asked, despite her flat response. It wouldn’t hurt to be on decent terms with his landlady.

Hannah’s face became less guarded. “Actually, you can sit on the deck and see a whole range of birds and mammals. I’ve spotted almost everything except bears and mountain lions.”

“That’s promising. I also noticed a couple of trails leading away from the lodge. Where do they go?”

The retriever yipped and she patted him again. “The one to the south leads into town, winding back and forth between the water and woods. The north trail is similar, but it’s rougher, with far more ups and downs. It extends around the lake to Mount Mahala.”

Jake looked at the snowcapped peak behind the water. “I’m guessing it would take a while to reach the mountain.”

A grin tugged at her mouth and he suddenly became aware of her as a woman. He still didn’t have any hint of Hannah’s figure, but if it matched her smile, he could be in trouble. Making a move on a woman with a child was a bad idea—in his experience, they were usually looking for commitment, and that wasn’t something he would ever be willing to offer.

“You’re right—it’s much farther than it appears. You can’t see it from here, but there’s a spur of the lake that goes way north beyond that point.” Hannah gestured to an outcropping of land covered by tall evergreens.

“What made you smile just now?” he asked curiously.

“A memory. When I was a kid I decided I could hike to the mountain all on my own. My parents didn’t argue, but Dad followed a few hundred feet behind me. We spent the night out there, not even a quarter of the way, with my feet hurting like mad. Not that I admitted it.”

And Jake would bet she was just as stubborn now. That kind of obstinacy wasn’t something people typically outgrew.

“I take it you grew up in the area,” he commented.

“Except for four years at college, I’ve always lived here.”

“Hell, I could never stay in one place for so long.” It wasn’t until Jake saw the look on Hannah’s face that he realized how rude he must have sounded...again. “Sorry. I’m a born wanderer.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Then you must be dreading the next twelve months.”

“That’s an understatement. I just want to get past this damned accident and have my life back.”

Nobody understood how he felt except Josie, and she was back in the Andes—or maybe she’d gone somewhere else by now. The doctors had preached patience, Matt’s attitude was that it was only a year and Andy was just pleased that his client had finally agreed to do a book based in the United States.

But Jake didn’t want a conventional existence; he wanted what he’d had before the plane crash—international travel, seeing new places, his photography...and as few complications as possible.

“It isn’t because of your house,” Jake added hastily. “The lodge is great. Why aren’t you living there, instead of in the guesthouse?”

“It’s too expensive on a teacher’s salary. It makes more sense to rent it out and live in Silver Cottage.”

“But surely you get child support,” he said. Before leaving the day before, Andy had explained she was divorced. Jake had gotten the impression that his friend was attracted to Hannah. Not that it would go anywhere. Andy was an excellent agent, skilled at professional negotiations, but he was notoriously inept in his personal life.

Hannah’s green eyes narrowed. “My son’s father and his financial contributions are a private matter.”