Read Online Wild Heat (Northern Fire) by Lucy Monroe - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lucy Monroe
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had an extra desk they’d be willing to get rid of too.
“Why can’t you call him?” Egan whined.
“Man up. You’re a MacKinnon.”
“Yeah, and according to Granddad, that means I should be married and providing the next generation to Cailkirn because of it.”
“Sucks turning twenty-four, doesn’t it?”
“What is up with that anyway?” Bobby asked. “It’s not some magic number. I could understand twenty-one, but what’s so special about twenty-four?”
Tack headed to his office. “That’s how old Granddad was when he married Gran MacKinnon.”
“So? Your dad was only twenty and mine was twenty-two.”
“Yeah, and Da reminds me of that if I complain about Granddad haranguing me about my responsibilities to the town,” Egan muttered.
Tack didn’t have any sympathy for his brother. He’d been getting the lecture from Granddad for four solid years. Frankly, he appreciated having someone take a little of the heat off.
He wanted Cailkirn to thrive and planned to marry one day, but right now Tack was focused on building his business.
And controlling his physical reaction to Kitty Grant, who had nothing to do with his continued single state. No matter what both of his grandmothers thought.
* * *
Caitlin heard the low masculine tones of Tack’s voice float up from downstairs.
Anxiety that she’d dithered too long over what to wear on the hike warred with an inexplicable impatience to see him. She hadn’t even had time to eat breakfast, which was so not good.
She should definitely be feeling more anxious about that than the idea of seeing the gorgeous Alaskan man again.
Neither reaction was helping her decide what to wear.
He’d been right that her gran had an old pair of Caitlin’s hiking boots in storage. However, after he called what she had considered a casual outfit too fancy for Cailkirn yesterday, Caitlin hadn’t known what to wear with them.
She only had two pairs of jeans, both designer. Her sweaters were all lightweight, appropriate for Southern California winters, which was to say no real winter at all. Even in the coldest part of the year, the temperatures rarely dropped to spring temperatures in Cailkirn.
It might be the sunniest city in Alaska, but it wasn’t the warmest. This far north, the sun didn’t usually mean hot. Not by the definition of anyone living south of the fifty-fourth parallel.
Certainly not like the smog-hazed sunny days in Los Angeles.
Which meant if Caitlin didn’t want to spend the day shivering until she cracked a tooth clacking them together, she had to layer. Like yesterday. Too bad her layers weren’t any more small-town Alaska than what she’d worn yesterday.
Caitlin had thought that with all the tourists off the cruise ships, her California style wouldn’t stand out so much. She’d been more concerned about how few clothes she had than how they were going to look. She’d sold most of her wardrobe through consignment shops to help pay for her schooling, keeping only the ones two years old or older.
They were also the only ones that still fit now that she’d brought her weight up to non-dangerous levels. Her doctor had suggested she gain another ten pounds minimum, fifteen ideally.
Caitlin was trying, but then she wasn’t sure what she’d do about clothes. None of the ones she’d brought with her would fit her then. At least she had a job and personal income to look forward to now.
But the ships weren’t in port yet and Caitlin wasn’t sure which of her clothes would garner Tack’s approval.
That thought pulled her up short.
She was falling back on old behaviors, worrying about what someone else would think of her appearance to the point of paralysis. Seriously, so what if Tack thought her clothes “too fancy”? If she was comfortable and warm, that was all that mattered, right?
She’d been working very hard for more than a year to convince herself of this.
Caitlin liked to dress fashionably; she always had. She
“Why can’t you call him?” Egan whined.
“Man up. You’re a MacKinnon.”
“Yeah, and according to Granddad, that means I should be married and providing the next generation to Cailkirn because of it.”
“Sucks turning twenty-four, doesn’t it?”
“What is up with that anyway?” Bobby asked. “It’s not some magic number. I could understand twenty-one, but what’s so special about twenty-four?”
Tack headed to his office. “That’s how old Granddad was when he married Gran MacKinnon.”
“So? Your dad was only twenty and mine was twenty-two.”
“Yeah, and Da reminds me of that if I complain about Granddad haranguing me about my responsibilities to the town,” Egan muttered.
Tack didn’t have any sympathy for his brother. He’d been getting the lecture from Granddad for four solid years. Frankly, he appreciated having someone take a little of the heat off.
He wanted Cailkirn to thrive and planned to marry one day, but right now Tack was focused on building his business.
And controlling his physical reaction to Kitty Grant, who had nothing to do with his continued single state. No matter what both of his grandmothers thought.
* * *
Caitlin heard the low masculine tones of Tack’s voice float up from downstairs.
Anxiety that she’d dithered too long over what to wear on the hike warred with an inexplicable impatience to see him. She hadn’t even had time to eat breakfast, which was so not good.
She should definitely be feeling more anxious about that than the idea of seeing the gorgeous Alaskan man again.
Neither reaction was helping her decide what to wear.
He’d been right that her gran had an old pair of Caitlin’s hiking boots in storage. However, after he called what she had considered a casual outfit too fancy for Cailkirn yesterday, Caitlin hadn’t known what to wear with them.
She only had two pairs of jeans, both designer. Her sweaters were all lightweight, appropriate for Southern California winters, which was to say no real winter at all. Even in the coldest part of the year, the temperatures rarely dropped to spring temperatures in Cailkirn.
It might be the sunniest city in Alaska, but it wasn’t the warmest. This far north, the sun didn’t usually mean hot. Not by the definition of anyone living south of the fifty-fourth parallel.
Certainly not like the smog-hazed sunny days in Los Angeles.
Which meant if Caitlin didn’t want to spend the day shivering until she cracked a tooth clacking them together, she had to layer. Like yesterday. Too bad her layers weren’t any more small-town Alaska than what she’d worn yesterday.
Caitlin had thought that with all the tourists off the cruise ships, her California style wouldn’t stand out so much. She’d been more concerned about how few clothes she had than how they were going to look. She’d sold most of her wardrobe through consignment shops to help pay for her schooling, keeping only the ones two years old or older.
They were also the only ones that still fit now that she’d brought her weight up to non-dangerous levels. Her doctor had suggested she gain another ten pounds minimum, fifteen ideally.
Caitlin was trying, but then she wasn’t sure what she’d do about clothes. None of the ones she’d brought with her would fit her then. At least she had a job and personal income to look forward to now.
But the ships weren’t in port yet and Caitlin wasn’t sure which of her clothes would garner Tack’s approval.
That thought pulled her up short.
She was falling back on old behaviors, worrying about what someone else would think of her appearance to the point of paralysis. Seriously, so what if Tack thought her clothes “too fancy”? If she was comfortable and warm, that was all that mattered, right?
She’d been working very hard for more than a year to convince herself of this.
Caitlin liked to dress fashionably; she always had. She
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