Taming the Mountain Man (Tamarack Ridge Romances Book 3) Read online

  “Me too,” Jennica admitted. “So I guess I owe you double thanks for taking me home.”

  “No problem.” Jack pointed to the line of vehicles. “It’s the white Chevy.” He hurried to open the door for her. “Sorry it’s a bit of a mess.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Jennica said as she climbed in.

  The truck wasn’t that much of a mess. An empty gas station soda cup sat in the center console, alongside a knife in a leather cover. There were Montana hunting and fishing guides stuffed into the pocket of her door, along with a little dust on the dashboard and bits of straw and leaves clinging to the carpet. Jennica thought of Josh’s Mustang, always pristine. He even kept a polishing cloth in the glove compartment. In comparison, Jack’s truck felt safe. Like he wouldn’t have a come-apart if you spilled a drink.

  “So you’re really not going to tell me why you’re here tonight?” she asked as he slid behind the wheel and started the truck.

  In the lights from the dash, his cheeks darkened again. “It’s not a big deal,” he said.

  She sighed. “Okay, but by not telling me, you know I’m going to assume all kinds of crazy things, right?”

  He threw her a grin. “Do your worst.”

  “You have a secret fudge addiction and Starlane’s chocolate shop is the only place to satisfy your cravings.”

  “Nope.”

  “You were here on a blind date and the girl turned out to be a guy, so you bailed.”

  He chuckled, a warm, hearty sound that made her want to do better, to bring out his real laugh.

  “You’re a secret billionaire and are thinking of buying the place and turning it into Montana’s first winter wonderland theme park?”

  Jack cocked his head to one side. “All those are better than the real reason, I must admit.”

  “So what’s the real reason?”

  “I was talking to the owner of Four Seasons about carrying my handmade knives.”

  She was silent for a moment. “Knives? I thought you worked at the lumberyard.”

  “I do. I make knives in my spare time.”

  “And they turned you down?” Jennica asked.

  He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road. “Yeah. But it’s no big deal.”

  “What kind of knives?”

  “Personal or recreational, mostly. Single blades like hunting knives, bowies, pocketknives … that kind of thing. Nothing too fancy. That’s why Four Seasons said no. They didn’t think they were special enough.” He tipped his head toward the knife in the cup holder. “That’s a hunting knife, and I have a couple of others.” He slid down in the seat a bit so he could reach one hand inside the pocket of his jeans, then pulled out a folded knife and handed it to her. “This is one of my standard, single-blade pocketknives.”

  Jennica took the pocketknife from his fingertips and studied it in the dim light. The wooden handle had brass inlay at both ends, and the gleaming silver blade opened and closed precisely, without a hitch. “This is really beautiful,” she said. “I’m surprised they didn’t want it.”

  “I can see their point.” Jack shrugged. “It is fairly basic. Not like Damascus or anything.”

  “What’s Damascus?”

  “It’s a technique that welds two different kind of metals together. You layer them, then hammer it thin, fold and layer it again, and on and on. Some Damascus patterns can have hundreds of layers.” He knit his brow. “I guess if we’re being technical, any modern Damascus pattern is more of a reproduction. The original techniques are ancient and have been lost over time.”

  “Why, though?”

  “I’ve wondered the same thing. Isn’t it weird how knowledge can just get lost?”

  Jennica clicked the blade closed on the pocketknife. “I meant why do it? It seems like a lot of trouble when this kind of knife is just as good.”

  “Damascus gives the blades patterns and makes them more valuable. Not to mention it’s a hard skill to master, so it’s pretty specialized.”

  “Can you do it?” She imagined Jack at a blacksmith anvil, hammering a hunk of glowing metal. That partially explained the muscles.

  He tipped his head. “I know the technique, and I’ve made a few attempts. But it’s really tedious and difficult to do by hand. You need power tools.”

  “And you don’t have any?” she guessed.

  “Not like that,” he said. “Not yet, anyway.”

  Jennica took the hunting knife from the cup holder and studied it as they rode in silence.

  “How do you like working at TR’s?” Jack finally asked.

  “It’s good,” she sighed as she returned the knife to its leather sheath and put it back in the console. “Same old, same old. Between you and me, I was hoping to get a promotion, but now that’s not going to happen.”

  “Really? Why not?”

  “It’s a family business and the best jobs tend to stay in the family. Mrs. Ramsey … Diane … wants to retire, and I hoped they’d let me take her job, but now that Colton and Leigh are getting married, I think Leigh will take over for her. I’m the assistant manager, and that’s probably as good as it’s going to get.”

  Jack seemed to accept it as a matter of statement, with none of the emotion the thought brought up in Jennica. “Do you like being the assistant manager?”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I don’t know if I can do it the rest of my life.”

  “What else would you do?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I like to travel, but obviously I can’t make money doing that.” An ache rose in her chest. She’d been sure marriage to Josh was right around the corner and would have solved so many of her problems. “My mother keeps pressuring me to get married,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do by the time you’re my age? Plus, all my siblings are married and having kids, and I’m just … I guess the phrase is failure to launch?” Her throat felt dry around the words. Her mother had never said that exact phrase, but the implication was always clear. “I’m right in the middle, too, so having younger siblings getting married before you do is brutal.”

  “I don’t see what the big deal is,” Jack said in a voice that sounded a bit growly. “If you don’t want to get married, you don’t want to get married. It shouldn’t be anyone’s business but yours.”

  Jennica noted the voice, the tension of his shoulders. Obviously she’d said something wrong. She tried to remember Jack’s history. He wasn’t married, and there was something hazy, a memory she couldn’t quite pull up. Had he been divorced? She knew now wasn’t the right time to ask.

  “But I do want to,” Jennica insisted. “Get married, that is. I guess … I don’t know, I haven’t found the right person yet.”

  “I don’t see what the rush is,” Jack said, in a tone that ended the conversation.

  They made the rest of the trip mostly in silence, and Jennica directed him to her grandmother’s house in the middle of town. The lights were off, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She could go to bed and let this whole mess percolate in her brain for a while. She hadn’t meant to run out on Josh. But she didn’t know what else to do, and Jack had happened along at the perfect time. Maybe by leaving Josh alone at the restaurant, she’d maintained a little bit of dignity and they could have a conversation when she wasn’t feeling so blindsided.

  Jack pulled in the driveway and stopped.

  “Thanks for the ride,” Jennica said. “I know it was out of your way.” She fumbled in her purse. “I can give you some gas money.”

  “Nah, don’t worry about it.” He threw the truck into park and reached for his door handle.

  “I got it,” Jennica said quickly, reaching for her own door handle. The last thing she needed was for Jack Hale to walk her to the door, like some kind of pity escort.

  “You sure?” Jack looked through the windshield at the darkened house and frowned. Even the porch light was off.

  “Grandma goes t
o bed early,” Jennica explained. “Thanks again.” She hurried to jump down from the truck and shut the door, but Jack stayed in the driveway, keeping the headlights focused on the porch, and somehow she knew he wouldn’t leave until she was safely inside. She fought back the urge to pull her coat lower over her backside as she passed through the beam of the headlights, then hurried up the three cement steps. With a quick wave toward the truck, she eased the front door open and closed it softly behind her.

  Chapter Two

  Jennica leaned against the door, listening as Jack drove away, trying to remember the last time she’d seen him. It had been at the store, probably. Why hadn’t she known he made knives, or realized how personable he was? It had been easy to talk to him and even the silences hadn’t felt strained. They’d felt … comfortable.

  She paused, letting the quiet of the house soothe her jangled nerves. The grandfather clock in the corner ticked out a measured beat. When she was little, all the cousins would sleep on the floor in the living room during family reunions, counting out the quarter hours by the chiming of the big clock. One of her proudest memories was the year she and her cousin Suzanne had made themselves stay awake until the clock chimed midnight—counting down each bong with breathless pride, then sneaking to the kitchen for celebratory marshmallows.

  She’d been living with Grandma for over a year, after she realized some distance from her mother would be a good thing. Her mother wasn’t a bad person, just … intense. And focused one hundred percent on what seemed to be her only goal in life—marrying off her five children, so far to great success. With one exception.

  The soft clinking of tags on a collar came toward her in the dark, and Rex rounded the corner from the bedrooms. He was a white Maltese, small enough that Grandma could hold him on her lap while they watched daytime TV and napped in the sunroom.

  “Hey, boy.” Jennica crouched as Rex got closer, his tail wagging in a greeting. She ran her fingers over his floppy ears and curly forehead. “You should be in bed.”

  “Well?” The voice of Jennica’s mother split the peaceful quiet. She’d followed the dog from the hallway, a still-glowing tablet clutched in one hand.

  “Mom.” Jennica straightened. “What are you doing here? Where’s Grandma?” A sudden spark of concern flashed through her. Grandma’s health wasn’t what it used to be.

  “She’s fine, in bed. I told her I’d wait for you.” Her mother flipped on the lights in the living room, and Jennica squinted at the sudden brightness. They faced each other across the expanse of shag carpet.

  Jennica’s mother was a few inches shorter than Jennica and showing signs of middle age, with crow’s feet at her eyes and a slowly thickening waistline. But she was still pretty with her dark auburn hair and bright blue eyes. “What happened?” she asked.

  Jennica pulled her hair from the updo she’d so carefully styled earlier and shook it loose, letting her own copper-colored waves fall around her shoulders. She’d hoped to have more time to prepare for this. “He didn’t propose,” she said. She bent to gather Rex in her arms and pressed her cheek to his soft fur.

  Mom frowned, and her eyes shot to Jennica’s empty ring finger. “Yes, I can see that. But why? I thought you said he would.”

  “He had something else he wanted to talk about,” Jennica murmured, blinking back sudden tears. “I thought he meant marriage. But we broke up instead.” The truth of the words hit her all at once, sending an ache pulsing through her.

  Her mother’s mouth fell open. “Why? What reason did he give?”

  Jennica kissed Rex quickly on the forehead and set him down, then moved toward the kitchen. “I have a headache and I really don’t want to talk about it right now,” she said. She opened the cabinet near the sink and pulled out a bottle of Tylenol and a glass tumbler painted with yellow daisies.

  “You don’t take someone out to a fancy dinner to break up with them,” her mother said from the doorway.

  “Tell that to Josh.” Jennica filled the glass with water from the tap and took two pills in one swallow. “I guess you do in his world. Maybe he thought prime rib would soften the blow.” Never mind that she’d left it mostly untouched. There was a small, grim satisfaction knowing Josh had had to pay the bill.

  Her mother’s lips pinched together in a look of disappointment Jennica knew all too well. “Honey …”

  “I know!” Jennica said quickly. “I’m on the downward slope to thirty, I dropped out of college, I work as a store clerk, I still live at home … or at least with Grandma.” She threw herself into a chair at the kitchen table in the middle of the room and slumped forward, resting her hot cheek on the table’s cool Formica surface.

  “I thought you and Josh had a good thing going. What happened?”

  “I don’t know. After he dumped me, I left him at the restaurant and got a ride home with Jack Hale.”

  There was a long pause, and Jennica squeezed her burning eyes shut. She didn’t need to look at her mother’s face to know the expression it held—exasperation, annoyance, and disappointment. The three tenants of her life.

  “Maybe it’s for the best,” she mumbled to the Formica.

  “What does that mean?”

  Jennica raised her head. Yup, she’d been right about the expressions. “Josh is nice, but it just isn’t …” She struggled to find the words. “Being with him, kissing him, doesn’t take me out of this world.”

  “Out of this world?” Her mother plucked the empty water glass from her grasp and put it in the sink.

  “You know, butterflies, fireworks, whatever you want to call it. Like he’s the only person in my world and I’m the only one in his.”

  With a sigh, her mother reached for the dishcloth that hung over the faucet and came over to scrub at a pinkish stain on the table. “Do you think maybe your expectations are a little high?”

  “It’s too much to expect my fiancé to sweep me off my feet?”

  “That kind of love is good for the movies, but not so much for real life,” her mother said. She scrubbed harder, but the stain wasn’t coming up. Something in Jennica’s memory stirred—many years ago, she’d left a red Popsicle on the table and it had melted. Maybe the stain was her fault. Grandma had never mentioned it.

  “So you’re saying firework love doesn’t exist?” Jennica asked. The romantic in her refused to believe it. As a little girl, she’d believed fervently in the handsome prince and happily ever after thing. The gallant knight riding up to the tower to rescue the maiden. The long, slow kiss right before the credits rolled. The idea that somewhere out there, her soulmate waited.

  She’d grown up a little since then, modified her expectations. But she still wanted someone to light up her world. Someone to walk along a beach holding hands while the waves washed over their feet. Someone who would send those delicious shivers she’d heard so much about racing through her body.

  Or warm her blood … like Jack’s fleece.

  “No,” her mother said. “I’m saying fireworks are temporary. Don’t forget what’s really important because you’re chasing something that will fade.”

  “What’s really important?” Jennica asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Stability, patience, being a good provider,” her mother said. They were the same answers Jennica had heard all her life. Find someone who you can tolerate, because marriage was a long haul.

  Jennica’s heart ached. Was fading fireworks as inevitable as her mother seemed to believe? “I want …” She struggled to find the words. She wanted more.

  Her mother sighed and gave up on the stain. “What do I tell Aunt Michelle? She’s planning on Josh as your plus-one for the wedding next week.”

  Jennica groaned. She’d totally forgotten. Her cousin Collette was getting married next week in Great Falls, and Josh was supposed to have accompanied her, ideally along with a shiny new diamond on her finger. But even if he hadn’t officially popped the question, Jennica was sure speculation would have run wild and she’d ge
t pushed into the middle of the circle to catch the bridal bouquet. At this point, her parents probably planned to bribe everyone else to stand back while Collette simply handed the bouquet over.

  Awkward, much?

  But at least Josh would have been a buffer against all the other questions—some asked, some not—that she was bound to face from concerned relatives, all boiling down to the same theme—What’s wrong with Jennica? Why isn’t she in school? Why doesn’t she move away?

  And mostly … Why doesn’t anyone like her enough to marry her?

  The headache throbbed and she rubbed her temples. “I don’t know about the wedding,” she told her mom. “Maybe I’ll bring a friend.” Her brain sorted through the few friends she had who could drop everything on late notice and wouldn’t mind spending an entire day at a wedding for someone they didn’t even know. Brynn, maybe—a friend from high school whose family owned TR Outfitters. She’d moved back to Tamarack Ridge after spending years in Southern California, and the two were reestablishing their friendship. But Brynn was in Canada right now with Ledger, her new husband. They were filming for his online channel, and Jennica didn’t know when they’d be home.

  “Maybe I’ll skip the wedding, tell them I have to work or something,” Jennica said.

  But one look at her mother’s determined frown and she knew that wouldn’t happen. No one missed something as important as a wedding in the Waverly family.

  Chapter Three

  Jack punched the button to turn off the belt sander. The sudden emptiness rushed into his ears—not the noise, but the absence of it. The shop was rarely silent, the forge alone created enough racket that he could barely hear his radio, but with the sander off, this was about as good as it got.

  The shop was the main reason he’d bought this piece of property almost eight years ago. Ten acres a good twenty minutes outside of town meant he wouldn’t have to worry about waking up the neighbors with the forge. It had meant some extra driving the night before when he’d taken Jennica home, but that hadn’t seemed to matter at the time.