I find myself nodding dumbly.
“You two need to come down to the Ale House at the end of the month!” Muriel hollers, throwing a leg over the seat of her ATV. Behind it is a metal rack and on that rack sits a long, slender gun. The sight of it is unnerving. “It’s our annual chili cook-off. A good way to meet locals. The seasonal folk start lurking then, too. Comin’ up to open their cabins.”
“I like chili,” Jonah announces from his spot on the covered porch, leaning against the post, his shapely arms even more pronounced folded over his chest.
“I’ll have Toby send a list of everything we need to prep the soil. You go on and get that stuff for Calla. She’s got a lot of work ahead of her this summer.”
Jonah grins, enjoying this far too much. “I’ll be happy to help Calla with her garden in any way I can.”
She waggles her finger at me. “And don’t forget, tomorrow, eight a.m. at the Burger Shack. They’ll …” The low rumble of the ATV drowns out the rest of her words, and then she’s off, speeding down our driveway.
“Bet she could shoot a sprinting deer from a thousand yards with gale force winds,” Jonah says, equal amounts amusement and admiration in his voice.
“If she doesn’t just order it to drop dead.” I sigh with defeat, my gaze drifting over the expanse of water. The snow melted weeks ago, leaving behind a frozen blue surface that gleamed in the sunlight but that locals no longer dared test with their recreational toys. It seemed like the spring thaw happened overnight. It began with patches of dull black ice and slush appearing, and then the jarring sound much like a cracking whip as fissures formed and ice chunks broke off, to nudge each other like slow-moving bumper cars as they floated to the shoreline. There, they dissolved into the cold blue lake that stretches before me. Early in the day, the surface is glass, a perfect reflection of the sky and clouds above. But now a slight breeze in the air creates a ripple across its surface.
Lately I’ve found myself inclined to sit on the porch with my morning coffee and admire the yawning expanse of water, land, and mountain. I never thought of myself as a person who gravitated to water, but in this vast wilderness and solitude, there is an unparalleled calm that comes with starting my day here.
This morning, though, there will be no finding calm, my peace suitably disturbed. I don’t have the energy to deal with Jonah, not after dealing with Muriel.
I climb the porch steps and push through the front door, kicking off my rubber boots along the way to the kitchen, aiming for the laundry room where our mop bucket is stashed.
“Hey.” Jonah catches up to me, reaching out to rope an arm around my waist.
“I’m not in the mood—”
“I know it’s your money. I’m just trying to …” He spins me around to face him. “Fuck, I don’t know what I’m tryin’ to do. Anytime I come into some extra money, it goes straight into the bank.”
“It’s not like I don’t have most of it invested already.” Simon’s financial adviser—I guess I should start thinking of him as mine, too—has tied up most of it in a dozen different ways, ranging from short- to long-term, low risk to high yield.
“I know you do.” He brings his forehead to mine for a few beats before pulling back to show me earnest eyes. “I’m sorry for being an asshole earlier.”
“A big asshole,” I correct, feeling my lingering anger—and hurt, now that I consider it—disintegrate.
“Fine. I deserve that. I guess my priorities are different. I have no idea how we’ll be doing in five years, and I like safety nets. I wasn’t raised to drop cash like this.”
I curl my arms around his waist. “Unfortunately for you, I was.”
He shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “Simon doesn’t seem like an extravagant guy.”
“His car is older than I am.” In mint condition because he coddles it and keeps his mileage low, but still. The only time he gets new clothes is when my mother buys them for him, because she’s tired of seeing him in the same five outfits every week. She’s been trying to convince him to redecorate his office for the past ten years and he’s fought her on it. I think it might be the only argument against her that he’s ever won. “Simon’s very … fiscally responsible with his money.” Much like Jonah, I’m beginning to see.
“So how does he deal with Susan, then?”
“They agreed on a monthly budget for her ‘frivolous spending.’” I let go of Jonah long enough to air quote that word. “She stays within her budget, and he’s not allowed to so much as blink at her purchases, no matter what. Not a word.”
Jonah bites his bottom lip, hesitating. “Is that something we should maybe consider doing here? Or at least talk about purchases over a certain amount before they’re made, to make sure we’re both thinking clearly?”
I shoot him a flat look. “By both, you mean me, though.”
Jonah’s lips curl into a small, playful smile.
Muriel’s advice—though unwanted—loiters in my mind. “I’d be willing to discuss anything over a thousand.”
“Five hundred,” he counters.
“So, two thousand?”
His brow furrows.
“I’m trapped in a log cabin in the woods, with a goat and a raccoon and no driver’s license. A crazy woman with a gun just told me I’m making strawberry jam and growing cabbage this year. Frivolous spending is all the joy I have!”
His burst of laughter carries through the stillness. “Fine. A thousand, but only if you plant brussels sprouts back there.”
“Ew. Really?” I grimace. “Fine. And you can’t argue with me just because it’s not important to you.”
He glares at me. “A five-thousand-dollar dining room table is fucking ridiculous, Calla. We’d use it once a year, if that!”
“Fine,” I agree begrudgingly.
He pulls me in tight. “We’re gonna have to come to a more reasonable common ground eventually, though.”
“Eventually,” I agree with mock innocence, smoothing my fingertips over his coarse beard. It’s finally back to the length it was when I left Alaska the first time.
“I hate fighting with you.” He leans in to capture my lips with his.
“Stop being insufferable, then.” I trace the seam of his mouth with my tongue.
“You want insufferable?” The wicked grin that flashes across his face sets my pulse pounding. With a swift tug, he yanks my pajama pants down, letting them fall to my ankles. My panties follow in a split second, and before I can balk, he has a grip of the backs of my thighs and he’s hoisting me onto the kitchen counter.
Chapter Nineteen
“We need a new truck,” I lament, gripping the steering wheel with both hands, my biceps tensing as I turn into the parking lot of Burger Shack. It’s empty of cars and riddled with potholes.
“Nah. Just need to fix the power steering,” Jonah says from the passenger seat, his focus on the local newspaper in his grip. “We’ll have ’em look at it when they fix the taillight.”