Morgan had a busy morning. She spent some time talking with Pastor Dan about concerns he had for one of the more isolated families in Deep River and who were going through a bit of a tough time. She made arrangements to visit them, then stopped in to see Sonny Clarke, who owned the gas station, was also a mechanic, and who managed the volunteer first responders. They discussed getting a meeting together of the volunteers since it was Morgan’s job to keep them up to date with the latest information, and after that, she had a call regarding some vandalism of one of the fishing trawlers.
But the time she’d finished with that, it was getting on to late afternoon.
She was just stepping off the trawler when she fielded another call from Axel, the bouncer at the Moose, about Lloyd, one of the old trappers who was a Moose fixture and who habitually drank far more than was good for him. He and his friend Joe got into a regular fight every Friday night, a fight she sometimes had to be called in to break up, but it wasn’t Friday now or even getting on toward evening, which meant Lloyd was having one of his periodic down times.
It happened every so often—he’d get drunk and maudlin and refuse to leave the Moose, and her usual way of dealing with it was to coax him up the stairs to one of the Moose’s spare rooms and let him dry out there.
Once or twice she’d even carted him back to her house and made him up a bed on the couch.
Of course, thinking about the bed on the couch reminded her of Zeke, which was annoying, since she’d successfully spent most of the day not thinking about Zeke.
She’d half expected him to turn up again this morning, but he hadn’t. Last night he’d eaten his dessert—which she was pleased about—then had taken off, leaving the folded bedding on the couch. And for some reason that utterly mystified her, she’d felt disappointed about that.
It was because she was still curious about him, of course, nothing to do with the way he’d looked at her in the kitchen, as if she was someone mysterious and interesting. And it certainly had nothing to do with his broad shoulders or the fierce beauty of his face.
He was an attractive man, sure, but she was not attracted to him.
Definitely not. And even if she was, it was likely more about the fact that she currently had no love life to speak of than anything to do with him.
What are you talking about? You’ve never had a love life.
Well, that was true. But she lived in a small town and there was a distinct lack of choices when it came to men. There had been a colleague in Ketchikan who’d asked her out once, but since he’d reminded her too much of her brother for comfort, she’d had to refuse. And since then…well, nothing. Not that she was actively looking for anyone. She was in no hurry after all.
You’re going to be alone all your life if you’re not careful, and when you die, your body will be eaten by your cat.
Morgan wrinkled her nose at that thought. It was more likely to be lynx kittens than cats, to be fair, but there was an element of truth in concept.
You’re a little lonely. Come on.
No, absolutely not. How could she be lonely when she had a whole town to look after? Plus she had friends. There was Hope and Astrid, and a couple of other colleagues in Ketchikan whom she kept in contact with.
Sure, she didn’t have a special someone, but she didn’t need a special someone. She was far too busy.
Putting away her phone after Axel’s call, she made her way up the dock and up the stairs to the boardwalk and the Moose.
Lloyd was there as expected, sitting on his usual stool at the bar, arguing with Axel, who was shaking his head.
“No,” the bouncer was saying. “You can’t have any more and that’s final.”
Lloyd muttered something angry and inarticulate, making a lunge at the beer tap, which Axel blocked without any apparent effort.
The tall, muscular bouncer glanced up as Morgan entered, a look of relief flickering over his blunt features. “Hey, Morgan,” he said, knocking away Lloyd’s hand a second time as the old man made another grab at the beer tap. “He’s not much of a drama, but I’ve got places to be. Hope’s out for a couple of hours, and I don’t want to leave him drunk and disorderly outside.”
No and certainly not with a fast-flowing river not far away. After all, they didn’t call the river Deep River for nothing. There had been a few incidences of people being drunk and falling into the water, enough that Morgan liked to make sure people were kept an eye on if they’d had too much to drink after a night at the Moose.
Certainly, she wouldn’t have been happy with him being left outside on the boardwalk on his own.
“It’s okay, Axel. You go. I’ll take care of it.” She stepped up to Lloyd’s stool as Axel came around the side of the bar and vanished out the door. “Hey, Lloyd,” she said calmly. “Think it’s time for you to go home.”
The old trapper shook his head vehemently. “Nah. Jusswannanotherbeer.”
He made yet another grab for the beer tap, which Morgan deflected before sidestepping and dodging to avoid his fist as he lashed out drunkenly in her direction.
Lloyd wasn’t dangerous, merely a nuisance, and she was debating how best to handle him when he lashed out in her direction again.
Only this time a large and powerful hand reached from behind her and grabbed the old man’s wrist before she could move.
“Don’t do that,” Zeke Montgomery rumbled at her back.
Lloyd muttered another curse, tugging futilely on the hand that gripped him, while Morgan turned around sharply.
Zeke was standing right behind her, all six foot and a whole lot more of him looming over her, large and dark and muscular. He was scowling, though not at her. It was directed at Lloyd, who’d lost interest in the beer tap and was now staring back at Zeke.
“Whointhehellareyou?” Lloyd slurred, blinking.
“Zeke Montgomery.” The low rumble of Zeke’s voice made her want to shiver for some inexplicable reason. “And don’t hit women.”
Morgan, irritated by the effect his voice had on her and feeling as if she’d somehow lost control of the situation, gave him a stern look. “Let him go, Zeke. He’s just drunk. What are you doing here anyway?”
“I saw your bike outside. I need to talk to you about the house repairs.” He didn’t let go of Lloyd’s wrist.
He was very close, his powerful body warm, and she caught the faint and not at all unpleasant scent of woodsmoke. She found herself staring at the way the cotton of his Henley stretched over the chiseled expanse of his broad chest, noting that it was the same Henley he’d worn the night before. Come to think of it, he was wearing the same jeans too. Did he not have any other clothes?
She glanced up at his face again. His hard jaw was still unshaven, his black hair shaggy, but he had the straightest nose. And his mouth… There was a curve to his bottom lip that was almost…soft.
House repairs. He was talking about house repairs…
Zeke looked down at her all of a sudden, his black eyes meeting hers, and she was aware of the oddest jolt of electricity. It shot straight down her spine.
He didn’t look away. “Where do you want him?”
Her cheeks felt hot all of a sudden, her brain struggling to make sense of what he’d said. “W-what?”
“Where do you want him?” Zeke said in exactly the same tone.
“You mean Lloyd?” Her voice sounded unsteady. How annoying. She cleared her throat. “It’s fine. I can handle him.”
“Sure. But he doesn’t look like he can walk and you don’t look like you could carry him.”
Morgan opened her mouth to tell him that she wasn’t planning on carrying him when Zeke stepped around her, grabbed the by now passed-out Lloyd, and slung him over one shoulder as if the old man weighed nothing at all. Which considering he was basically made out of alcohol and boiled leather, he probably didn’t.
“Well?” Zeke looked at her expectantly. “Where shall I put him?”
She wanted to tell him that she didn’t want him to put Lloyd anywhere, that she was perfectly capable of handling this herself. She’d been doing it for years after all, without any help from anyone, and she didn’t need help now.
But she knew that was probably her irritation at her own reaction to him talking, and it wasn’t fair to take that out on him.
“He can go upstairs,” she said decisively. “We’ll let him sleep it off in one of the spare rooms.”
“He doesn’t have a home?”
“He does.” Morgan moved past him, heading toward the door that led to the Moose’s hotel rooms. “But he lives alone and I don’t like leaving him that drunk without someone to keep an eye on him.”
Zeke didn’t respond, following silently along behind her as she went up the stairs, and she found herself wanting to explain further, even though he’d said nothing and she caught not even a whiff of judgment from him.
“Silas’s dad drowned in the river,” she said, unable to stop herself. “When he was drunk. And there have been other instances too. I just don’t like leaving things to chance.”
Zeke just looked at her. “I never said you did.”
“But you don’t think I should leave him here.”
“I didn’t say that either. Why should what I think matter anyway? You’re the cop, not me.”
She didn’t know why it mattered either. She didn’t doubt her ability to do her job; she knew she did it well. That the people of Deep River relied on her and trusted her, and that was all the validation she needed.
Her father had been casually approving when she’d gotten the job too, which was high praise coming from him, so really, what on earth was she doing justifying herself to Zeke?
“That’s true,” she said, deciding she really needed to pull herself together and stop seeing things that weren’t there. “I am. So we’ll put him in here.”
They’d come to the top of the stairs now, and she gestured to the room Hope usually set aside for people who needed somewhere quiet to sleep it off.
It was tiny, the smallest room in the Moose, and Zeke seemed to take up most of it as he shouldered the door open and crossed over to the small single bed set under the window. He bent and put Lloyd down on it, arranging the old man carefully.
He had such large hands, tanned and scarred, his fingers long, blunt, and strong, yet he handled Lloyd with a surprising gentleness that caught strangely at Morgan’s heart.
Zeke might be big and rough looking and more than a little grumpy, but he was capable of care it seemed. Like he had shown last night in her bedroom, navigating his way through her room without disturbing things or getting anything dirty.
It was a weird thing to find attractive maybe, but she did all the same.
She came up beside him where he stood by the bed and said with genuine feeling, “Thank you. I’d been thinking I’d have to leave him on the floor of the bar, but he’ll be much more comfortable up here.”
Zeke glanced down at her, his dark eyes impenetrable. “You do this all by yourself?” he asked in his strange, abrupt way. “The VPSO stuff?”
“Yes.” She reached for the woolen blanket that had been folded at the end of the bed and shook it out. “I have some backup from Ketchikan when I need it, but that’s not often. Why do you ask?”
His black brows were drawn down, and he was studying her with the same focused concentration he’d given her the night before, as if she was a puzzle he was trying to find the solution to.
It made her heart beat curiously fast.
“Seems like you’re too…” He stopped, then gestured wordlessly at her.
Morgan lifted her chin, daring him to say it. “I’m what?”
“Small,” Zeke said. “And pretty.”
She should have found that offensive. No one else had ever commented on her size or her appearance, though her father had grumbled a few things about her being too much of a girly girl for proper police work occasionally.
She’d never let her father’s occasional comments get to her. He might not have liked her taste for frilly and pretty, but he sure didn’t mind the way she cooked and cleaned for him. Not that he’d forced her into doing that. It had been her way of showing that she cared about him.
Anyway, for some reason Morgan couldn’t possibly fathom, she wasn’t offended by Zeke’s comments. In fact, she could even feel herself blushing yet again, which was intensely annoying.
He thinks you’re pretty.
To hide her blush, she busied herself with the blanket, pulling it up over Lloyd’s unconscious form. “My looks and my size have got nothing to do with my ability to do my job,” she said firmly. “And you really shouldn’t be making comments like that.”
“Well, you asked me,” he pointed out aggravatingly.
Morgan tucked the blanket around the old trapper, who then gave a loud snore and rolled over.
She straightened and glanced up at Zeke. “And what? You say exactly what’s in your head or something?”
“Yes.” It was clear he was absolutely serious. “I don’t lie.”
Interesting.
She cocked her head, studying him. “Why are you so interested in my job all of a sudden?”
His gaze flickered. “Just wondered. Must be hard work.”
“Yes. It is.”
Lloyd gave a soft moan and Morgan put an absent hand on his shoulder to calm him.
Zeke’s attention dropped to where her hand rested, then he looked up at her again. “Why? Why do you do it?”
It was a genuine question—she could see it in his eyes. And she was starting to think that all Zeke’s questions were genuine. That he was never anything but genuine.
“Why do I do my job, you mean?”
“Yeah.” He nodded at Lloyd. “Taking care of this asshole even though he nearly hit you.”
No one had ever asked her that question before. When she’d told her father she wanted to be a VPSO, since there was a chronic shortage of rural law enforcement in Alaska and Deep River needed someone local, he’d never asked her why. He’d simply shrugged his shoulders and told her to do whatever she wanted.
Even the townspeople had never asked her. When word had gotten around that she was going to be the VPSO responsible for their area, they’d been surprised, but not too surprised. Everyone knew she had a fixation with taking care of injured animals, so this had seemed like a natural step. She’d had a couple of comments about how some had thought she’d be a doctor or vet, but no one had ever actually come right out and asked, So why law enforcement?
She gave Lloyd’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, then let him go, pleased to be asked. “Because someone has to,” she said simply. “This is my town and it’s my responsibility. And so are all the people in it.” She smiled. “Even this asshole.”
Zeke stared at her and she couldn’t work out what he was thinking, his black eyes glittering with an oddly fierce light.
A bear—he was definitely a bear. And like she could tell when an animal was wounded or sick, she had the sense that this bear was nursing a sore paw or some other kind of hurt.
It made her heart gave a little kick in her chest and before she knew what she was doing, she’d reached out and taken the hem of his Henley between her fingers, tugging on the soft, warm cotton. “Mal in the Market has got some cheap T-shirts and some jeans. Let me know your size and I’ll get them for you.”
Zeke looked at her for a long moment before glancing down at her fingers holding on to his Henley. Then he reached out, took her hand in his, and gently pulled her fingers away. His skin was very warm, his touch even warmer.
Before she could speak, he stalked out.
* * *
Zeke was halfway back to his campsite when he remembered he’d forgotten to ask Morgan about the repairs to her house.
Muttering a curse, he stopped, gave one wistful glance down the riverbank trail that led to his camp, then turned around and headed back the way he’d come, irritation gathering inside him.
The morning had been difficult enough, what with seeing his friends again and then being dragged around the town and introduced to seemingly every inhabitant of Deep River. That hadn’t been as bad as he’d first thought, he had to admit. Sure, despite Silas’s enthusiasm, everyone was as suspicious and reserved with him as he was with them, but that was okay. Suspicious and reserved he understood and could deal with.
It was the interlude in the Moose with Morgan that had really bothered him.
He’d seen her bike outside the Moose as he’d come out of Mal’s Market. Damon and Silas were still talking to the tall, gruff owner of the general store, so he’d decided to go and ask her when she wanted him to start on repairs to the house.
He’d pushed open the Moose’s doors just in time to see her small figure neatly dodge a wild and very uncoordinated strike from the old man teetering drunkenly on his barstool. And instantly he’d gone into soldier mode, striding over to where she stood and grabbing the old guy’s hand before he could do her some real damage.
She hadn’t liked his interference at first. He’d gotten that loud and clear. And he would have been more than happy to leave her to it, since she’d obviously been in the middle of something and had radiated competence. But then the old drunk had passed out, Zeke only just managing to grab him before he’d fallen off his stool, and realizing then that Morgan wasn’t going to be able to do anything with him if he was unconscious, Zeke had offered to help.
She’d been a bit touchy with that, which he couldn’t understand since it was obvious she couldn’t carry the guy, and it wasn’t like he was telling her how to do her job or anything.
But then she’d seemed to accept he was only there to help, letting him carry the old man upstairs and put him down on one of the Moose’s beds to sleep it off.
Zeke wasn’t sure why he’d then had that stupid conversation. He should have been asking her about the house repairs, not questioning her about why she did her job. There had been something about the way she’d looked at the old man, about how she’d tucked a blanket around him, put her hand on his shoulder to calm him, as if she cared about him, even though the guy was drunk and unkempt and had lashed out at her.
Zeke knew that type of man. Men too old to hunt or to trap anymore, not knowing what to do with themselves except sit in bars and relive their glory days, finding happiness at the bottom of a bottle, only to be kicked out like trash when they’d outlived their welcome. No one cared about those old men—or at least, not that he’d seen.
But Morgan did. She hadn’t kicked him out of the Moose. She’d been worried that he might fall in the river and so had made sure he had a bed to sleep it off in and a blanket over him to keep him warm, telling Zeke calmly that this town was her responsibility and so were its people.
Then she’d reached out, tugged on his Henley, making everything male in him sit up and take notice, and had offered to buy him some new clothes.
The sun was lowering in the sky as he strode along, shining on his back through the branches of aspen and spruce, the scolding of a nearby squirrel echoing as he passed, all signs that the day was settling into an extremely pleasant afternoon and one he would have enjoyed.
If he hadn’t been thinking about Morgan that was.
Morgan and the tender hand she’d laid on the old man’s shoulder. Morgan and the direct look in her bright blue eyes as she’d told him this town was her responsibility, as if she was daring him to challenge her.
Morgan and the light pull she’d given on his shirt, a concerned look on her face as she’d glanced up at him. As if the state of his clothes mattered to her.
He didn’t know why they would. He didn’t know why she would care.
And he didn’t know why what he’d wanted to do was not pull her hand away, but bring it close, have those small, pretty fingers touch him the way she’d touched the old trapper.
No, he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t get involved. That’s not why he was here.
He was here to help her with the damn house and the sooner he got her okay to start the repairs, the sooner he could concentrate on that and not on her and her pretty eyes.
Since he didn’t have a vehicle, Zeke walked to the Wests’ house, which took him a good half an hour. Yet when he arrived, he couldn’t find Morgan.
The whole house smelled delicious though, and after a cursory exploration, he discovered two pies sitting on the kitchen counter. Had she baked those? If so, when had she had time? Especially when she always seemed to be doing things. And she must have baked them recently since the crust was still warm.
Which meant she was still around here somewhere.
Zeke went back outside and took a look around the property. Her bike was propped against the porch by the front door, and her truck was parked out in the drive near the house, and he hadn’t seen her on the walk here, so she couldn’t have gone far.
Eventually he spotted a path that led through the trees in the direction of the river and so he followed it. A minute later, he found himself on a small, gravelly beach with an area of quiet water and a little wooden dock that stuck out into the river.
Morgan was sitting on the end of the dock, dangling her legs over the edge, her hands gripping the planks on either side of her. She was still in her uniform, the hems of her pants rolled up almost to her knees, her bare feet nearly splashing in the water. Her long, apricot hair was loose down her back and instead of her parka, she had a very old and worn-looking, dark blue Seawolves sweatshirt thrown over the top.
She didn’t turn around as he started down the dock toward her, though she must have heard him, so he was able to note how pretty her hair was with the sun gleaming on it, the red and gold all mixed together and flowing down her back. It was silky looking and soft, and he bet if he reached out and touched it, it would feel just as silky as it looked.
You want to touch her hair? Seriously?
Hell, first he’d been dazzled by her smile, then mesmerized by her fingers. Now he was thinking about her hair… Yeah, he had to get a grip.
He came to a stop behind her and pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“Hi, Zeke,” she said, still not turning.
“How did you know it was me?”
“Because when most people visit, they generally say hi first or at least let me know they’re coming.” She turned her head and glanced up at him, her eyes startlingly blue from beneath her red-gold lashes. “I guess you’re the strong, silent type, though. Or maybe you were trying to sneak up on me?”
He frowned. “I wasn’t sneaking. You heard me anyway.”
“It’s true, I did.” She patted the planks beside her on the end of the dock. “Take a pew.”
The offer surprised him. “Why?”
“Well, you’re obviously here for something. And I’d prefer you to sit rather than loom.”
For a second he hesitated, because sitting down close to her, especially when he kept getting fixated on things like her hair, probably wasn’t ideal. And besides, he only wanted to ask her about the house. Then again, it seemed rude to refuse and he had some ground to make up on that score, so after another second’s hesitation, he lowered himself down onto the dock beside her.
He thought she might launch immediately into more questions the way she had the night before, but she didn’t. Instead, she just sat there quietly, her lashes almost closed, swinging her feet idly over the water rushing by underneath them.
And Zeke became aware that a certain tension in his muscles, that he hadn’t realized was there, had begun to ease. That he felt almost…relaxed, which was odd because he didn’t find people at all restful.
Yet there was a certain peace here, sitting with Morgan, with the sounds of the river and the wind in the spruces filling up the silence around them.
“So what’s up?” she asked eventually.
“I forgot to ask you about the house. I want to start on the repairs tomorrow.”
She glanced at him in surprise. “You walked all the way here just to ask me about the house?”
He wasn’t sure why that was so surprising. “Yes. I don’t have any cell phone service right now and also it’s not that far.”
“Huh.” An expression he couldn’t read flickered over her face, then she looked away, down at the river beneath them. “What about the house?”
“You okay for me to start the repairs?”
“Oh, you need my permission now?”
He frowned, catching the slight sarcasm in her tone. “I don’t need it, no,” he said, because he didn’t. “But I thought it would be polite to ask anyway.”
“You’re worried about being polite? After last night?”
Zeke eyed her, still unsure of her tone.
She had her head turned slightly toward him, a hint of a smile turning her mouth soft, her blue eyes dancing with what looked a lot like amusement. And not at his expense, he could sense that. More as if she was inviting him to share the joke.
And it came to him, all of a sudden, in a little rush of shock, that she was gently teasing him.
He didn’t flirt with women and he didn’t play games. He’d never seen the point. He preferred to be straight up about what he wanted, even though he knew it put people off and that sometimes women wanted more from him than bluntness.
But now, right here, in the sunlight, looking at Morgan’s smile and watching the hint of laughter in her eyes, he wondered if he might have to revise his opinion on that. Because he liked it. Liked her smile. Liked that brief silence she’d allowed. And he very much liked that she felt comfortable enough with him to tease him.
He wished he could tease her back, but he wasn’t sure how, and since he wanted to give her something, he said, “I was out of line last night. I’m sorry.”
Surprise rippled over her face and then her mouth curved into that full, sweet smile that had dazzled him the night before.
It dazzled him now.
“Oh, well, I appreciate that. But you’re fine.” She pushed her hair back over one shoulder, and for a second he got a little lost watching the movement of silky strands brushing over the pale skin of her neck. She had tiny freckles there, like a scattering of golden cake crumbs over a bowl of fresh cream, and he had the sudden, intense urge to brush his fingers over them. Would she taste like cream if he put his mouth there? Or would she taste as sweet as she smelled? Like cake?
Shit, man. Get your head out of the gutter.
Her bright eyes as they met his were like the sky overhead, deep and endless.
He could lose himself in eyes like that.
“So how did it go with Damon and Silas?” Morgan asked, apparently oblivious to the effect she was having on him. “I hear they were introducing you around to everyone.”
Zeke gave himself a hard mental shake. “Where did you hear that?”
“Small towns.” Her smile turned wry. “The bush telegraph runs twenty-four seven.”
He shrugged. “It was fine.”
“They didn’t chew you out too badly?”
“No.”
“Good.” She turned away once more, looking down at the river, idly stretching a toe down toward the water.
Her toes were spangled with water, and he couldn’t help noticing her toenails were painted with the same pink polish as her fingers and her feet were as pretty as the rest of her.
“You like pink,” he heard himself say inanely. Hell, why had he said that?
She smiled. “What gave it away?”
Another tease.
He felt oddly dizzy, like he was drunk almost. The pleasant kind of drunk, when you’d had enough to feel good and enjoy yourself, but not enough for things to start getting blurry and you started falling over.
Morgan tipped her head back, her lashes falling shut, clearly enjoying the sun, and he was aware of how warm the wood was under his hands and how hot the sun was on his shoulders and how the woman beside him smelled sweet, like sugar cookies.
And that he wanted a bite out of her. Just one bite. To remind himself how sweet tasted.
“I love it out here,” she said quietly, her eyes still shut. “This dock is where Cal and I used to come when Mom and Dad were arguing. Mom didn’t like Deep River. Hated it in fact. Kept trying to convince Dad to move to Juneau or Anchorage, but he couldn’t. Anyway, they used to argue a lot so we used to come out here, where it was quiet.” She let out a sigh. “It’s so peaceful.”
He stared at her, unable to drag his gaze away from her face. From the light scatter of freckles across her nose and the red-gold silk of her lashes lying still on her cheeks.
He should go. He really should. Except he didn’t.
“Did she leave?” he heard himself ask instead. “Your mom I mean?”
Slowly Morgan nodded, not opening her eyes. “Yeah, she did.”
“Does she ever visit?” Hell. He was full of questions today, wasn’t he?
“No.” Morgan’s lashes lifted, but she didn’t look at him, only out across the water. “She died not long before Dad. Cancer.”
Something shifted in Zeke’s chest, a tight sensation. “I’m sorry,” he said again, not knowing what else to say.
Sorry? That’s all you got?
Well, what else was there? Emotional stuff wasn’t his strength.
Morgan turned to him, and strangely, she was smiling again. “That’s sweet of you, but it’s okay. I didn’t have much of a relationship with her after she left. I was kind of glad she passed before Cal did, though. That would have killed her even if the cancer hadn’t.”
That means she’s alone.
The thought stuck in his head, sharp and barbed like a thorn from a blackberry bush. When Cal had told him that she’d had no one in his letter, he’d really meant it, hadn’t he?
“What about you?” Morgan asked. “Do you have any family, Zeke?”
She didn’t look sad. She didn’t look alone. And when he’d seen her today, with Lloyd, she’d been nothing but competent, not to mention kind. So why had Cal thought she needed looking after? She certainly seemed to think she didn’t.
That got to him, though it shouldn’t. Because he was alone too and it hadn’t hurt him any. Then again, his isolation was by choice. Hers hadn’t been. She’d lost her family one by one.
Why does it matter? You’re here to fix her house. That’s all.
But maybe it wasn’t all. Maybe Morgan West needed more than just a few house repairs.
She lifted a brow. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
Oh, right. His family.
“Yes,” he said abruptly, giving himself another hard mental shake. “My parents are still alive. I have a sister. They live in Houston.”
“Oh.” She looked surprised, as if she hadn’t expected him to tell her. “That’s where you’re from?”
He didn’t like talking about himself and he certainly shouldn’t be telling her about his family or giving hints about his background. But she’d given him a little piece of hers so he wanted to give her something back.
“Yeah. But then I joined the army, met Cal, Damon, and Silas, and followed them up here.” He paused. “Alaska is home now.”
“So you live in Juneau normally?”
“I try not to.”
That earned him another smile, quick and bright, making the strange lightness inside him fizz like beer shaken in a can. “What’s wrong with Juneau?”
He shrugged. “I don’t like cities. I prefer the wilderness.”
She was silent a moment, searching his face, and he didn’t look away.
“You’re an interesting man, Zeke Montgomery,” she murmured at last. “Not to mention a little weird.”
It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before.
Zeke frowned. “You think I’m weird?”
“Well, maybe not that weird. More like wild. A bit…uncivilized.” She was still smiling, as if being wild and uncivilized wasn’t a bad thing.
It pleased him for reasons he couldn’t have articulated.
“I’m not that wild or uncivilized,” he said.
She cocked her head, surveying him. “I don’t know. You’ve got that vibe to you.”
“What vibe?”
Her perfect, little rosebud of a mouth curved and he was transfixed by the shape of it, by her smile and how warm it was. Even warmer than the sun above.
“Oh…maybe part bear.” That mouth curved a little more. “And part pine tree, with just a touch of paranoid hermit.”
Zeke didn’t often smile. But looking into Morgan West’s blue eyes, he felt the urge now. He even kind of thought he saw the point of flirting.
Because she was flirting with him, whether she was aware of it or not, and he liked it.
He liked that she wasn’t afraid of him, that she felt comfortable enough with him to tease him. And he knew he shouldn’t respond, because he could feel a familiar static in the air, the charge of attraction building slowly between them, and he shouldn’t be encouraging it. But he couldn’t help himself.
“Interesting,” he said. “You have a vibe too, you know.”
“Do I?” Her smile invited him to share it. “What’s mine?”
“Honest cop.” And then, when her face fell, he added. “And sunshine.”
Her expression softened and her eyes sparkled. They honest-to-God full-on sparkled.
He didn’t often say things that made people happy. He gave people the truth, it was true, but he’d never believed in empty flattery, and he’d certainly never said anything just to make someone smile.
But the way Morgan was smiling at him right now, as if he’d given her an unexpected gift, made him glad he’d said it.
Then her eyes darkened slowly as they stared into his, the silence that had fallen becoming something more. The charge in the atmosphere became a fizzing electricity, snapping like a rubber band in the space separating them.
She felt it too—he could see it in her eyes.
But he didn’t want to get involved, not with her.
“I’ll be here first thing tomorrow morning,” he said shortly.
Then he pushed himself to his feet and walked away down the dock.