Toby gave Grant the bowls and watched him combine oatmeal, water, slivered almonds, and dried fruit, quickly cooking the mixture over the fire. One bowl at a time, he stirred in a dash of cinnamon and brown sugar. “Try this.”
“Oatmeal?” Toby said, his lip curling with distaste. “I don’t eat oatmeal.”
“You do now, partner.”
“But it’s mush.”
“Toby, be polite,” Jami admonished with an ironic inflection. Grant hadn’t been very polite about the breakfast she had prepared.
Expression doubtful, Toby cradled his metal bowl in his hands, now protected from the heat by a folded paper towel. He dug a spoon into the hot cereal and tasted a bite. “It’s okay. I guess I’ll eat it.”
“Eat the oatmeal or try mom’s cooking.” Grant grinned down at Toby as the aroma of cinnamon and apples drifted around them.
“I’ll eat this,” Toby answered quickly, sparing a nervous glance at the garbage bag.
“It’s very good,” Jami admitted, testing a spoonful of the jazzed up oatmeal as hunger tempered her disappointment. She chewed the now moistened bits of fruit—raisins, cranberries, and apple—that blended tastily with the oatmeal. Her first foray into camping hadn’t ended so badly, she decided, her gaze drawn across the fire to study Grant Carrington.
He was like a Hollywood version of a mountain man as he perched on his campstool, unshaven, heart-stoppingly handsome and slightly rumpled, his long lanky, jean-clad legs stretched out as he munched on his own breakfast creation. Jami was a city girl, born and raised in Houston, with no camping experience. Someday, she decided ruefully, she hoped to cook for Grant again. In a kitchen, with a real stove. Then he would see what she could do.
And there were lots of things she’d love to show the man...
A smile played over Jami’s lips as her thoughts wandered into territory more amorous than the kitchen.
Chapter 13
Grant let Jami steer the motorboat on the way back across the lake. She enjoyed the freedom as the craft cut through the water, wind blowing her hair, and lake spray misting her face. Punctuating the clear azure sky, a few wispy white clouds snagged on a neighboring mountain peak. The day was warming quickly, sunshine penetrating the thin alpine air to cast the Rockies in bright golden haze and shoot the lake with endless points of light. Jami circled close to the shore, midway between the docking area and the spot where Grant had carved Toby’s toy boat.
“Not there.” Grant’s large warm hand covered Jami’s hand on the wheel, then he turned the rudder to guide them away from the swirling deep blue water she had headed toward.
“Why not?”
“There’s a deadly undertow, fed by an underground stream which causes a whirlpool effect. It’s dangerous.”
“The water is choppy and darker. Nearly sapphire.” Jami studied the lake surface, watching the waves and water patterns. “I can see the currents swirl!”
“That’s why I’ve never taken you and Toby to that section of the lake. It’s smarter to skirt the area. We make it a habit to avoid the whirlpool.” He slowed, guiding the boat to the dock. “According to local legend, it’s where a lake monster dwells.”
“A monster?” Toby’s big brown eyes grew rounder as he helped Grant unfurl the rope. “Cool! Can we go see it?”
“Aren’t you scared of monsters?” Grant asked with a cocked brow, as he tied the motorboat securely to the dock.
“Not lake monsters or space monsters. They’re cool.”
“There are no such things as monsters,” Jami intervened, allowing Grant to help her out of the rocking boat and onto the wooden planks of the dock.
“Grizzly bears are sort of monsters,” Toby replied, glancing off into the woods. “We didn’t see any bears when we were camping. How come?”
“Guess the bears were busy,” Grant answered, handing items out of the boat to Toby and Jami, who then piled the camping gear onto the dock.
Between the three of them, they hauled everything back to the lodge with Jami feeling grungy and longing for a shower. Still, one glance at Toby, and she knew her rambunctious dirt devil needed to be cleaned up first. The moment they entered their room, she filled the tub with warm water, adding a squirt of Toby’s Bad Bear Bubble Bath to foam into fun, dirt-cleansing suds. Remembering his bubble mania, she immediately put the bubblebath bottle out of reach. Humming, she scrubbed him with soap and a washcloth, then left him to play with his boat in the tub, the bathroom door open while she rounded up their clean