He opened the SUV door, stepping out in time to hear the woman call, “Hi, Andy.”
“Hey, Hannah. Sorry we’re early—we made better time on the road than I thought we would. Jake, this is Hannah Nolan,” Andrew said. “She owns Huckleberry Lodge and teaches at the elementary school in town.”
“Good afternoon,” Jake muttered.
He couldn’t tell much about Ms. Nolan from her appearance. She was dressed in faded jeans and an oversize man’s shirt. She had a long, rumpled braid of chestnut-colored hair and her face was pretty in a wholesome way. Apparently she’d been cleaning, because the faint odor of bleach permeated the air.
“You aren’t ready for me to move in?” he asked coolly, gesturing to the bucket she carried.
“I spoke to Hannah late last night and asked her to do extra sanitizing as a precaution,” Andy explained hastily. “It seemed a good idea because you just got out of the hospital.”
Jake’s jaw tightened. He was damned tired of hospitals and disinfectants and people trying to protect him without understanding the first thing about what he wanted. His body was damaged, not his brain. His mother had actually trekked out of the Andes to urge him to take it slow. Josie wasn’t a sentimental mom—he’d rarely seen her since becoming an adult—but she had her moments.
Hell, his father had even breezed through shortly after the accident. Since Sullivan Spencer “S. S.” Hollister was a true hedonist and had been in the middle of yet another romance at the time, he must have been really worried. Nevertheless, Jake was done with doctors and everything associated with them. His only concession would be physical therapy—anything to get him back to his peak.
“Sanitizing won’t be necessary in the future,” he growled. “I only asked for light cleaning. And you won’t need to come until Tuesday. I’ll be fine until then.”
“I always do extra polishing before someone arrives, Mr. Hollister, and you are earlier than expected,” the landlady said, the chill in her voice equaling his own. She put a hand on the youngster’s shoulder. “By the way, this is my son, Danny. Danny, this is our new tenant, Mr. Hollister.”
“Hi, mister.”
“Uh...yeah. Hi.” Jake didn’t know anything about kids and didn’t want to.
“Let me give you a tour of the lodge,” Hannah offered after an awkward silence.
“I’ll show myself around.” He turned and limped to the Wrangler to begin unloading his luggage and equipment. “I don’t need that thing—take it with you,” he snapped as Andy took out the cane recommended by the doctor.
“The doctor said—”
“I don’t care what he said.”
Over Andy’s protests, Jake carried one load after another into the lodge, despite the pain that was becoming intense. Danny Nolan wanted to help, but Jake sharply told him not to touch anything. The last thing he needed was to have his equipment damaged by a snot-nosed kid.
Hannah Nolan promptly sent her son to their home over the garage, her expression turning less friendly by the minute.
Andy began to look alarmed. Much to Jake’s displeasure, he pulled Hannah aside and started whispering in her ear. Jake ignored them both and carried two of his tripods up the lodge steps. He didn’t need his agent being a diplomat and making excuses.
Perhaps he had been rude, but the sooner everyone left him alone, the better.
* * *
HANNAH WAS SEETHING.
She’d seen the excitement on Danny’s face disappear at a single sharp word from Jake Hollister and she wanted to strangle the man. For some reason her son had been drawn to the tall photographer, only to be rebuffed. She didn’t expect her tenant to be buddies with a seven-year-old boy, but was common courtesy too much to expect?
“Honestly, he’s a nice person,” Andy repeated urgently. “Don’t be misled by first impressions.”
Hannah fixed her gaze on Andy. How could he be associated with such a bad-mannered, pompous ass as Jake Hollister?
“You mean he’s rich and talented, so he gets away with murder.”
Andy made a helpless gesture. “No. I’m the first to admit that Jake is focused and intense when working on a project, but that’s the perfectionist in him. He has his faults, but you have to understand how much pain he’s in right now—it’s a miracle he survived that plane crash and being hauled by dogsled for fourteen miles. Then there was the delay in flying him out for medical care. He’ll recover, but it’s hard for him to accept limitations, however temporary.”
Hannah shifted her feet.
In the five days since she’d first talked to Lillian about leasing Huckleberry Lodge to Jake Hollister, she’d learned plenty about him. Some had come from a telephone conversation with Andy and the rest from Lillian, who was dazzled at the thought of meeting someone famous. Yet Hannah wondered if she would stay impressed with Mr. Hollister once she got a dose of his bad manners.
“It’s all right, isn’t it, Hannah?” Andy asked anxiously. No doubt he was accustomed to working with temperamental artists who flew off the handle at the slightest thing. Hannah had a healthy temper as well, but she couldn’t afford to try breaking the lease agreement.
“Don’t worry, I’ll deal with it,” she assured him, though she already regretted agreeing to clean house for her new tenant.
Andy smiled his awkward smile. “Good. I’d hate it if I wasn’t welcome in Mahalaton Lake.”
“No chance of that. But since I’m not needed here, I’m going to check on Danny.”
“I... Oh, sure. I’ll probably leave as soon as Jake is unpacked, so take care.”
“You, too.”
She hurried away with her bucket of cleaning supplies. Silver Cottage—the living area over the four-car garage—was a very nice home, with a third-floor family room, two bedrooms, lots of closets and a splendid kitchen. Best of all, it had a spacious living room and a deck with a view of the lake. When Great-Aunt Elkie was alive, she’d rented out Silver Cottage to skiers instead of Huckleberry Lodge. It wasn’t that she’d needed the income; she had just liked having people around.
Danny was lying on his stomach on the living room floor, drawing a picture, their golden retriever next to him.
“That’s a great dragon,” Hannah said.
He shrugged, a small pout on his mouth.
“Don’t be upset about Mr. Hollister,” she murmured. “He got hurt awfully bad a while ago. You saw him limping, didn’t you?”
Danny didn’t look up. “Uh-huh.”
“Well, sometimes people in pain don’t feel very friendly.”
“But if he doesn’t feel good, why couldn’t I help?”
She sighed. How did you explain adult pride to a child? “Maybe he wants to prove he can do it himself. Remember when you were mad at Grandpa because he wouldn’t take the training wheels off your bike as soon as you wanted? It’s kind of like that.”
Understanding dawned in his eyes. “Oh, I get it.”
“Good. We should both be understanding of Mr. Hollister and remember he doesn’t want people bugging him. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Her son stuck out his hand and they solemnly shook.
Danny