Summer on the Mountain (7 page)

“Okay, I’ll cook this time, but you’re cooking the next go round.”

She frowned.  What exactly did that mean?  There wouldn’t be a next time.  She didn’t have long to ponder the remark, however, since she watched him drop butter into both pans, place each on the heated stovetop, dip each fish in flour, and then drop the four blue gill into the larger pan, and the single trout into the smaller one.   

The scent of frying fish soon filled the kitchen and Summer stood back, watching Jarrod flip the fish in the pan.  “What would you like to eat with the fish?” she asked, feeling as if she should make some contribution.

He shrugged.  “Anything.”

She searched the freezer for frozen vegetables.  She found a mixed bag and readied them for a quick turn in the microwave.  Jarrod turned and grinned.  “The fish are nearly done.”

Soon, the twosome sat down at the dinette table to enjoy the dinner.  Summer took a bite of the blue gill first, her eyes widening with pleasure.  She recalled her father telling her there was nothing like the taste of fresh, pan-fried fish, and she had to agree.  She closed her eyes, savoring the taste.

“Good, huh?  Wait till you taste the trout,” he enthused.

She took a bite of it next, realizing it was equally delicious.  “I could eat this for every meal,” she declared. 

“You’d get tired of it,” he said with a certainty that surprised her.

When they finished their meal, she rose from the table and took both plates to the sink. 

“What’s for desert?” Jarrod asked, startling her when he appeared beside her at the sink. 

She smiled uncertainly.  “I don’t know.”

“I do.”  He took her hand and tugged her toward the front door.  He paused at the threshold and glanced down at her jeans and t-shirt.  “Actually, you’ll need to change into a warmer shirt.  It gets chilly outside in the evenings.”

Summer hesitated, but he nodded encouragingly.  Still uncertain, she changed into a long-sleeved cotton shirt.  As she buttoned it, she wondered, what was she doing?  She had resolved to steer clear of Jarrod, particularly since he’d accused her of setting her sights on him, but here she was about to follow him to parts unknown. 

She decided to tell him she had changed her mind and needed to remain at the cabin, but when she saw his hopeful face, she just couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“Where are we going?” she asked with resignation.

He noted her lack of enthusiasm, but simply replied, “You’ll see.”

He clasped her hand again, reached for the cabin key on a small table beside the door, and then assured the front door was locked behind them.  He led her across the front yard of his folks’ property and over to his.  They crossed his yard and headed out behind his cabin.

He held firm to her hand as he led her across level ground and then up steep, uneven terrain.  Near the top of a knoll, he paused and released her.  She watched him climb up the steep embankment, and then he offered a hand to her again.  She took it and he practically lifted her up to him.  She teetered slightly at the top, glad for his steadying hand. 

“Where to now?” she asked, pulling her hand from his and glancing around with interest.  She gasped.  She hadn’t expected to find herself in a tiny meadow full of berry bushes.  “What are those?” she asked with wonder.

“Huckleberries,” he told her.

Her eyes widened with pleasure and she dashed over to a bush.  She picked a berry, studied it briefly, and then popped it into her mouth.  The sweetness exploded against her tongue, causing her to elicit a gasp of pleasure.

“Good, huh?” Jarrod prompted.

“Delicious,” she enthused, reaching for another and popping it into her mouth.  Suddenly, she turned to him, realizing they didn’t have a container with them.

He read her mind.  “I know, I forgot to bring something to carry them home in.”

“Well, we’ll just have to eat them off the bushes,” she said gamely, reaching for another berry.

Jarrod stepped back, watching her pick several berries off the bushes and pop them into her mouth.  He remembered bringing Lauren to this special place, only to have her reject the berries until he’d later cleaned them thoroughly with a produce wash.  He had assured her the berries were fine to eat, since they grew naturally and without pesticides.

“I want to make a pie,” Summer said eagerly.

He smiled.  “That sounds great.”

“Do you have a recipe?”

He chuckled.  “No, don’t you?”

“I’ll get one,” she said enthusiastically, and he grinned.  The woman had been so guarded—thanks to him, he knew—but she was much less so now.  He found her enthusiasm for his mountain charming.  He also found himself seeing the beauty of his home through her eyes.  Her delight warmed him. 

Soon, she turned to him.  “I think I’d better stop eating.”

“You’re liable to get a stomachache if you don’t,” he warned.  “We’ll come back with a bucket soon.”

She turned away from him, surveying the meadow with wide-eyed wonder.  A small fawn stood at the far corner, its mother joining the tiny deer a brief moment later.  She gasped and reached for his arm.  “Look,” she said softly. 

“Would you like to go for a walk?” he asked, and she turned to him with a soft smile and nodded.

He led her across the meadow and into a clutch of trees.  The last bit of evening sun filtered into the forest, casting a warm glow on the terrain, and warming the couple, as well.  Summer sighed with pleasure, and Jarrod brought her to a halt, looking into her eyes.  “It’s so beautiful here,” she told him, turning her eyes from him and taking in the wonder of her surroundings again. 

He reached towards her, to smooth back a tendril of hair from her cheek.  She turned back to him and gave a questioning look, as he searched her face.  “You’re beautiful,” he told her, smiling.

When he suddenly leaned forward, claiming her lips with his own, she found herself drowning in a sea of sensation.  The thick, spongy grass beneath her suddenly felt as if it had morphed into ocean waves thanks to her shaky legs. 

Finally, she pulled back, watching him through bewildered eyes.  A blush spilled across her cheeks as she stepped away from him.  “I didn’t…”  She shook her head, reaching a hand toward her lips.  “I wasn’t trying to…”  She glared at him.  “That was
your
fault, not mine,” she accused, finally finding her wits.  “Don’t you dare do that again, Jarrod Lawton.”

He grinned and cocked a brow.  “Why not?”

She harrumphed in disgust.  “If you’ll remember, you falsely accused me of…”

“Yeah.  I’m still sorry about that,” he admitted ruefully. 

“Well—you should be!”

He chuckled lightly.  “Would you be adverse to a change of plans?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Pursue me to your heart’s content,” he suggested with a smile, spreading his hands wide.  “You just never know how things might turn out.”

“
What
?” she cried shrilly.  “So
you
know,
I
haven’t changed
my
mind, and I’m not … pursuing anyone!”  With that declaration, she spun on her heel and hightailed it back to the meadow.   

She hurried across, aggravated when he fell into step beside her.  She stopped moving, turning on him with a fury.  “You,” she said, aiming a finger at him, “should be ashamed of yourself.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but suddenly, a growl emanated from the nearby woods.  Summer’s eyes widened fearfully and she glanced around. 

“Don’t worry.  I’ll protect you,” he assured her. 

“What was that?” she whispered, instinctively moving closer to him, but then pulling back when she realized what she’d done.

He shrugged.  “Probably a mountain lion.  It’s a ways off, but we should get you back to your cabin.”

She began jogging in the direction they’d come, and he hurried to her side, slowing her down with a gentle hand on her arm.  “Take it easy.  You’re liable to trip or twist your ankle.”

She slowed some but shrugged away from his grasp.  She glanced around fearfully, half-expecting an animal to attack from behind.    

“Not so sure of these woods now, are you?” he said with an unsympathetic chuckle, and she shot him an angry glance.

“I’m not so sure of … you!”

***  

“Your son is impossible, Gwendolyn,” Summer muttered during a phone conversation to her boss the next morning.

“He can be,” she admitted with a sigh.  “What’s he done now?”

Summer paused.  “Oh, never mind…” 

She realized she couldn’t possibly tell her boss that her son had both kissed her and as good as suggested the two embark upon some sort of exploratory relationship.  The nerve!

“How’s the painting coming along?” Gwendolyn asked.

Although Summer was glad for the change of subject, that wasn’t the shift in conversation she’d hoped for.  She sighed, deciding honesty was the best policy.  “Truthfully, I haven’t started it.”

“Darling,” Gwendolyn said softly, “as much as I want you to complete a painting for Leonard, I’m more interested in you rediscovering your love for your art.” 

“I know.  And I appreciate that, but…”

“Can’t seem to get started?”

“No.”

“Is it fear or…”

Summer thought for a moment.  “No, I think it’s more I’m so interested in my surroundings, I can’t stop exploring long enough to paint.”

“Huh,” she said, and Summer could envision the frown on her face.  “I never found the place particularly interesting, myself.”

“I do,” Summer told her.  “I really do.”

“Well, maybe that interest will translate into a subject for your painting.  You’re bound to find something to paint sooner or later.  Hopefully, sooner than later,” she said softly.

“I promise I’ll try,” she assured her.

The two signed off and Summer dropped into a chair in the living room.  She reached for her coffee mug nearby and sipped at the steaming drink.  She knew it was time to give painting a go, but again, she just didn’t seem to have either the energy or the inclination to set up her easel.  Instead, she opted to grab her sketch pad and headed outside.

She cast a furtive glance into Jarrod’s yard, noting his work SUV was parked outside.  She suddenly remembered it was Saturday, and figured he probably had a day off. 

She trotted toward the lake, but came to an abrupt halt when she spied him standing lakeside, one boot planted on the ground, the other lifted onto a rock.  He stared out over the pristine mountain lake.

Summer stepped off the trail and into the bushes, hoping he hadn’t heard her approach.  She felt ridiculous hiding from him, but the last thing she wanted right now was a face-to-face encounter with the infuriating man. 

She crouched low, pleased to discover a rock that would serve as a makeshift chair, and carefully sat down.  She watched Jarrod, feeling like a peeping Thomasina.  There was no denying that he presented a stunning picture—a strikingly handsome, verile man against a backdrop of a rugged mountain terrain in which he seemed utterly and completely at home.

A thought popped into her head.  She flipped the cover sheet of her pad, and then began sketching rapidly, glancing up at Jarrod and back to the paper with practiced skill.  Soon, a picture emerged that caused her to gasp.  She had captured the rugged beauty of the place, as well as the chiseled good looks of the man. 

Pleased with her efforts, she rose from the rock, forgetting her current mission was a clandestine one, and to her horror, she stepped on a branch, which promptly snapped and caused Jarrod to turn to the source of the noise.  His eyes narrowed and then widened when he spotted her.  She attempted to wipe a guilty expression off her face.

“Hello!” he called, walking toward her.  He reached her, and watched her with interest.  “What were you doing in the bushes?”

“Oh, I uh, dropped my sketch pad…”

He accepted her explanation, smiling down at her face, which was tinged with pink.  “You’re looking nice today,” he commented.

She didn’t respond.  While she hadn’t found the subject of her painting, she had found the subject for a very nice sketch.  And he was currently eyeing her curiously.

“Well, I’ll see you,” she said, starting to walk off.

“What’s your hurry?” he asked, striding after her.

“I … have things to do.”

“But … you were heading down to the lake.”  He eyed her sketch pad then.  “Can I see what you’ve drawn?  Mom tells me you’re an amazing artist.”

She pulled the pad close to her chest, watching him with alarm.  She shook her head. 

“Well, okay then,” he said agreeably.  “Would you like to take a walk around the lake?”

“No.”

“Want to do a little fishing?”

“No.”

“We could pick huckleberries for that pie you were talking about.”

“I don’t think so.”        

“We could go skinny dipping.”

She refused to respond to that suggestion, but instead turned on her heel and began walking away from him.