Every Step She Takes (Who's Watching Now Book 2) Read Free Page A

and met his gaze. Green as shamrocks, her eyes danced with amusement as he jostled against the sports fanatic. When Travis casually brought his elbow up to dig into the other man’s ribs for a change, the Cubs fan finally faced forward, grasping the edge of his seat for support.
    “There’s this new invention called pavement.” Readjusting the ball cap on his balding head, he spoke in a loud whisper.
    Grace’s smile broadened. “A fellow concrete junkie. What brings you to the wilds of Alaska?”
    “After a heart attack and triple bypass surgery that my idiot doctor blamed on stress, my kids sprang for a relaxing vacation. They think a week of communing with Mother Nature will do me a world of good.”
    “Sounds like they care about their father.”
    The creases in his face eased. “They’re good kids.”
    Grace turned toward the blond, gray-eyed boy to Travis’s right. “Let me guess, you’re on summer break from college and searching for adventure?”
    His fair complexion flushed pink. “I graduated from UCLA a couple of years ago.”
    Travis took pity on the kid. Grace’s undivided attention was enough to rattle a glib player, let alone this youngster. “Looking for a human interest story, Grace?”
    She laughed. “No, I’m just naturally nosy.”
    “You’re a reporter?” The man in the backseat piped up.
    Grace nodded. “I’m writing a story on wilderness retreats. How about you?”
    “I came for the fishing. I choose a different camp each year. The wife is visiting her mother in Florida, and I have a week of peace and quiet with no one to remind me to pick up my socks.”
    The Cubs fan snorted. “Given a choice, most men would rather wade through dirty underwear than be nagged. Isn’t that right?” He nudged Travis in the ribs.
    Wincing, he rubbed his side. “My marriage didn’t last long enough for me to find out. I’m Travis, by the way, Travis Barnett.”
    “Lou Russo from Chicago.” He stuck out a hand with short, blunt fingers, nails buffed to a high gloss, and a surprisingly firm grip. “We may as well get acquainted since we’ll be spending the next week or so together.”
    “I’m Alma Fitzgerald, and this is my sister, Judith Dickson. We’re from Minneapolis.” The woman spoke in a forthright voice from the rear seat. “We bird watch and hike in addition to fishing. You’d have to ask our husbands if we nag.”
    Turning in his seat, Travis eyed the two sisters and grinned. Alma was probably the senior. Her hair was more gray than brown, and the camp shirt hung on her thin frame. Judith reminded him of a plump sparrow. Curious brown eyes regarded their seatmate with the fishing magazine.
    He cleared his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Andy Smith from Salt Lake City, Utah.”
    The college boy spoke quietly into the brief silence. “Archer Nielsen.”
    “And I’m Grace Hanover from San Francisco.” Grace faced the driver. “How many other guests are staying at the lodge?”
    “Only a handful. I took a vanload to the airport when I picked you all up. There’s a family with a couple of young kids, a pair of older gentlemen who visit us every summer, and a single guy who spends most of his time hiking.” He flashed Grace a smile. “I’m Mitch Cannon. If you need a guide for fishing—or anything else—I’m your man.”
    Travis rolled his eyes. Could the guy be any more obvious? He sounded like a porn star in a low budget flick.
    A hint of a smile curved Grace’s lips. “I’ll keep that in mind, Mitch.”
    The driver gestured to his right. “There’s Moose Lake up ahead through the trees. The lodge is on the far shore.”
    They bumped and jostled down the dirt road, catching intermittent views of clear blue water as they drove through the thick forest. When the trees thinned, the lake stretched before them, easily a couple of miles in length. Sunlight sparkled on the shimmering water. Near a three-story log structure, a dock jutted into the lake with canoes tied