Summer on the Mountain (11 page)

She gave him a tentative smile.  “I was just thinking…”

“About what?” he asked, watching her with interest.

She shook her head.  “Nothing.”

“Tell me,” he prompted softly, but she certainly couldn’t tell him what she had been thinking. 

“It’s a beautiful day,” she said, attempting to change the subject of their conversation.

“Oh, that was smooth,” he commented.  “Why won’t you talk to me?”

She shook her head.  “Nothing to talk about.  How are you feeling right now?”

He gave her a look that told her he knew she was changing the subject again, but he answered her question.  “I’m feeling better.”

“Good,” she said, checking the clock on her dash.  “We’re early,” she commented as she drove into town.

“We could grab a coffee,” he suggested.  “I was thinking we could maybe get lunch after my appointment.”

“Are you sure you’re feeling up to all this?”

“Absolutely.  Let’s grab some caffeine.”

Summer parked in front of a coffee shop and the two walked in.  Jarrod stood back as she ordered a concoction comprised of several adjectives he didn’t recognize and would never remember.  “I’ll have what she’s having,” he told the barista, shaking his head ruefully.

He paid for and retrieved their coffees and the twosome sat down on high stools at a bar table to talk.  Jarrod glanced around, seeming nervous and out-of-place. 

“Are you okay?” Summer asked.

“Oh, yeah,” he assured her.  “This just isn’t my scene.  I’m more a coffee from a thermos kind of a guy.”

She smiled.  The man had a point.

The two visited for awhile and she found herself laughing at his animated telling of his on-the-job adventures.  When he turned to the subject of poaching, she immediately sensed the somber change in his manner.

“How bad is the problem of poaching here?” she inquired.

“Bad,” he said succinctly, taking a drink of his coffee and glancing around.  He turned back, fixing his eyes on her face.  “Just before I got sick, I found the remains of several bull elk.”

She gasped.  “What do they…?  I mean, what do poachers do actually?”

“Some poach for the meat,” he said.  “But I’ve actually found remains of bobcats, bear, and elk, and found their bodies intact, but their heads carefully removed.”

Summer gasped.  “You mean people kill them and take only their heads to mount on a wall.”

He nodded sadly.  “It’s a shame.  The fact is, the law allows hunting during specified times and seasons.  There are reasons for regulations,” he asserted angrily.  “Over-hunting can devastate an animal population.”

She sighed.  It broke her heart to think of animals suffering at the hands of humans.  “What can you do about it?”  

He met her gaze.  “Not much, if the truth be told.  These guys are skilled and there are so many operating right now.  There are only a few rangers on duty on a given day, so…”  He spread his hands and sighed.  “We do what we can.”

Summer could see by the hard set of his jaw that he was angry he couldn’t do more to stop the poaching.  “I need to get back to work,” he said crisply, drumming the table top with his fingers.  “I’ve been off long enough.”

“You’ll have to hear what the doctor has to say about that,” she said gently.

She saw the frustration in his eyes, but knew it wasn’t directed at her, particularly when he took her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze.  “How’s your painting coming along?”

“Almost done,” she told him. 

“Will you give this one to Dad after all?” he asked, watching her with undisguised anticipation.  She wondered why.

“No, it’s not good enough.  But,” she said brightly, “everyday I love painting more and more.  I can’t wait to start another one.”

“That’s terrific, Summer,” he enthused.  He paused, watching her intently.  “Will you paint something for me?” he asked finally, startling her when he reached out with a gentle hand and skimmed her cheek.

She smiled lightly, surprised at the brief contact and in a public place.  She noticed several patrons watched them. When a man and two women approached their table, she was glad for the distraction.  She didn’t want to dwell on Jarrod’s touch, or wonder about how and why he affected her so much.

“Hello, Jarrod,” the man said, slapping him on the back, and watching Summer with unconcealed interest.

Jarrod startled slightly and smiled ruefully before turning to his friend.  “Carl,” he said, reaching out to shake his hand. 

Quickly he introduced Summer to the group, and she noticed one of the women watched her with barely concealed hostility.  She suspected the woman hadn’t been pleased to see her with the handsome forest ranger.

“Hello, Jarrod,” the woman named Donna said.  “It’s good to see you again.”

“We haven’t seen you around town much,” the other woman commented.

Jarrod grunted a response, one that even Summer couldn’t decipher.

Carl laughed heartily.  “We never see him around town.  We’re lucky to spot him anywhere but in the wilderness.  He’s practically a hermit, and definitely a man of few words.”

“Isn’t that the truth?” Donna said, watching him with a faint, hopeful smile on her pretty face.

“That’s me,” Jarrod muttered, glancing at Summer and smiling tightly.  “Quiet.”

 “Even when we were kids and he was up vacationing at his family’s cabin, he was a quiet one.  Couldn’t get a word out of him,” Donna said.

“Still can’t,” the other woman said.

Jarrod checked his watch, seeming awfully eager to leave the coffee shop.  Summer took the hint and climbed off of the stool.  “Good to meet you all,” she said, and turned to him.  “We’ll be late for your appointment if we don’t get moving.”

He simply nodded at the group and ushered her to her car.  Inside, she turned to him with unconcealed curiosity.  “You’re a quiet person!?”

He belted in and then raked a hand through his hair.  “Yeah.  So?”

“You haven’t stopped talking since I met you!”

He gave her a long, lingering look, and then grinned cheekily.  “Interesting, huh?”

***

Jarrod grumbled all the way to the car after his appointment.  The doctor had refused to release him back to work.  Instead, he provided a note for Jarrod’s employer excusing him from the job for several days, when Summer had asked for one.  Jarrod had glared at her.

“I can’t believe I’m off work until Monday for a stupid, kiddy infection,” he groused.

“Good grief.  It’s not only kids who get ear infections,” she said tiredly.  “I mean, obviously.  And at least your lungs sounded good.”

“Well, that is something,” he conceded.  “Hey, I promised you lunch.”

“You should get home and back to bed,” she said, eyeing his now ruddy cheeks.

“You should have been a nurse,” he said, and she realized it wasn’t intended as a compliment.  “I promised you lunch and I’m a man of my word.”

“According to your friends, you’re a man of
few
words,” she said, emphasizing the few.  “When do you intend to show me the quiet side to your personality?  I’m thinking the ride home might be the time to test your friends’ assertions.”

“Do you want me to shut up?”  He watched her with mock wounded eyes.

“No,” she admitted, smiling into his eyes.

He smiled back, and inched closer to her.  She suspected he might be on the verge of kissing her, and panic edged her voice when she spoke.  “Keep those lips on your own side of the car,” she warned.

“Hey, I’m not contagious anymore.  The doctor said so.”

“I’d prefer not to take any chances.”

“I guess I can’t blame you,” he muttered, and was quiet as she pulled out of the clinic parking lot and headed out of town.  He suddenly spoke, pointing out a café coming up on the right side of the road.  “Pull in there,” he instructed. 

She did so, and parked the car.  “Why don’t I order the food and we can take it home to my place to eat,” he suggested.

That sounded fine to her, and soon Jarrod was back in the car with two bags of food.  “You have your appetite back,” she observed.

“This place has excellent burgers,” he informed.  “And I am hungry.”

Back at his house, they sat down in the kitchen to enjoy the meal.  Jarrod had purchased four cheeseburgers and a huge order of fries.  Two slices of banana cream pie rounded out the artery clogging meal.

When they were done eating, Jarrod two burgers to Summer’s one, he sat back in the chair, sighing with contentment.  “Didn’t I tell you the burgers were excellent?”

She nodded, standing to clean up the table.  She paused as she was about to pick up one of the lunch sacks and checked his forehead for fever.  He still looked flushed. 

“You know,” he said, “you could probably get a better reading of my temperature by kissing my forehead.  That’s how my mom used to do it.”  He flashed a grin.  “Or better yet, my lips are probably the surest indicator of my body temperature.  But, that’s just a thought.”

“I’ll pass,” she said in measured tones, but did detour to the bathroom to retrieve the thermometer.

“Not that again,” he moaned.  “I’m fine, Summer.  Come on over here and I’ll show you how fine.”  He grinned wickedly but she barely registered a response.  She had gone into nurse mode.

“You know, it isn’t good for my ego when you don’t even acknowledge my flirting,” he said testily.

She slipped the thermometer into his mouth and then resumed tidying up the tabletop.  When she pulled it from between his lips, he arched his eyebrows suggestively, and she couldn’t help but laugh.  The laugher died when she saw his temperature.  “You’re going to bed,” she said in a tone that defied argument.  “And you need something for that fever.”  She watched him, hands on hips, as if trying to fathom what made the man tick, or burn up with fever.

“I’m going to grab a quick shower,” he said then, standing and stretching.

She nodded, moving to the sink to deposit their plates.  When she turned, Jarrod surprised her by moving closer to her and wrapping her in an embrace.  “You’re my very own Florence Nightingale,” he said, brushing his slightly-stubbled cheek against her softer one.

She pulled back, studying him for several long seconds. 

“You’re looking at me in such a … a clinical way,” he said with a tinge of horror, stepping away.  “It’s hurting my manly pride, you know.”

“I’m trying to decide how best to get your temperature down.  The ibuprofen isn’t helping,” she muttered.  “I may need to call the doctor.”

“Oh, give it a rest.  I’m fine.  In fact, I was thinking, maybe you’d like to join me in my hot tub out back.  Did you happen to notice it the other day?”

“Jarrod!” she said shrilly.  “A dip in a
hot
tub,” she emphasized the hot, “isn’t going to diminish your fever.  It might, however, diminish your brain cells, and frankly, I don’t think you can spare them.” 

“What?”

“Jarrod, a high fever can be serious.  The last thing you need is to further elevate your body temperature by climbing into a hot tub.  I am, however, thinking about dipping you into a tub of ice,” she muttered ruefully.  “I’m calling your mother.”

“No!”

She didn’t miss a beat and hurried to the phone.  She called Gwendolyn and filled her in on Jarrod’s condition.  “We just can’t seem to get the fever down,” she said, and paused, listening.  “I should have thought of that myself.  I did consider dipping him into a tub of ice, but your idea should work, too.”

She chuckled at something Gwendolyn said, and Jarrod eyed her curiously.  “What’s so funny?” he asked after she’d hung up the phone.

“Nothing.”  She passed him three ibuprofen tablets.  “Now, you, take a cool shower and slip into shorts.”

“Are we talking running shorts, or boxers, or…”

She waved a hand dismissively.  “Doesn’t matter.  But hurry.  And no shirt.  We need to cool you off.”

He grinned suggestively.  “Mom didn’t suggest the no-shirt thing, did she?  That was your idea, huh?”

“Shut up.”

He chuckled as he headed for his bedroom.  Soon, Summer heard the shower running.  In no time, Jarrod returned to the kitchen, shirtless and wearing a pair of fleece shorts.  She turned from her station at the sink, and he flexed his muscles.

“Knock that off,” she muttered distractedly.  She moved closer to him, standing on tiptoes to check him for fever.  “You didn’t take a cool shower,” she accused.

“That’s easier said than done,” he admitted.  “To be honest, I kind of have the chills.”

“Oh, no!”

“What?”

She spun around, grabbed his hand, and hauled him to the couch.  “Sit!”

He did as she told him, and then she dashed to the kitchen.  She filled a bowl with ice water and grabbed a kitchen towel.  Back in the living room, she told him to lie down, but he remained sitting up.  She promptly dipped the kitchen towel into the bowl and rung it out.

“This isn’t necessary,” he said, watching her from between heavily lidded eyes.  She could see he was tired, which he punctuated by yawning.