Free Wild Heat (Northern Fire) by Lucy Monroe

didn’t like being told she’d fallen short in some way. That was too reminiscent of Nevin.
    No way was she putting Tack in that role, though. He wasn’t Nevin, wasn’t even remotely like her ex-husband in any of the ways that counted.
    If he was still anything like the boy she’d grown up with, Taqukaq MacKinnon would be appalled to think Caitlin was using his opinion as the yardstick to measure her clothing choices by. He might well make another comment today, but he wouldn’t expect it to result in Caitlin modifying the way she dressed.
    Frustrated with herself, especially allowing her morning routine to suffer, Caitlin pulled on a snug white T-shirt for an added layer of warmth. Her body didn’t hold heat as well as it had when she’d lived in Cailkirn before.
    Hopefully that would get better with time. Mindful of the time, she slipped into a form-fitting white button-down top with long sleeves and then pulled her favorite Carolina Herrera sweater over it.
    The shade of the thin blue cotton was almost an exact match for her eyes. She left the shirt untucked so the tails hung below the hem of the sweater.
    She donned the same quilted silk Chanel vest she’d been wearing the day before and grabbed the old ski jacket Gran had put away with Caitlin’s hiking boots.
    Tack wouldn’t accuse her of being too stylish in the nearly ten-year-old jacket, but chances were she wouldn’t need the coat today.
    It was best to be prepared, though. Weather was unpredictable on the Kenai Peninsula.
    She found Tack drinking coffee and eating one of Aunt Elspeth’s cinnamon rolls in the kitchen. Thankful that it looked like she’d get a chance to eat, Caitlin pulled cereal from the cupboard.
    She’d discovered that skipping meals wreaked havoc with her hard-won healthier eating habits. It was too easy to just keep on skipping until she’d gone a couple of days without actually eating anything.
    Never again.
    Her therapist said relapses happened, but Caitlin had promised herself one thing: she wasn’t ever going to reach the point where she fainted from lack of nutrition again.
    “You’re not going to eat that for breakfast are you, Kitty-love?” Aunt Elspeth asked in that gentle way she had. “I’ve made fresh cinnamon rolls. So much nicer than dry cereal.”
    Caitlin eyed the gooey pastries, oozing with melted butter, cinnamon, and caramelized sugar and tried not to let the nausea building inside her show. “My stomach doesn’t do well with heavy food first thing in the morning.”
    Or ever really, but she wasn’t going to mention that. Like a lot of anorexics, Caitlin had spiraled into bulimia as well. And not always by choice. A stomach that didn’t get fed very often had a hard time digesting rich foods, no matter her intentions when she ate it.
    She was much better about fueling her body at regular intervals now, but she still struggled with high-fat foods, and too much sugar might as well be tequila shots.
    “But—” Aunt Elspeth started.
    “I packed snacks and a lunch. She’ll be fine,” Tack interrupted.
    Which sort of shocked Caitlin. He was far too polite to interrupt her aunt, but it was almost as if he realized how difficult the simple conversation was for Caitlin.
    Aunt Elspeth looked as gobsmacked as Caitlin felt, but after a look between them that Caitlin couldn’t decipher, her great-aunt subsided.
    “Eat your cereal,” Tack told her.
    Caitlin nodded and set about measuring an exact portion of the cereal and adding a level half cup of unsweetened almond milk and exactly twelve berries.
    She joined Tack at the table and began to eat, jealous of his cup of coffee.
    It had been years since she’d been able to have the true Colombian gold with impunity.
    Tack smiled, one eyebrow quirked. “No coffee?”
    Caitlin gave a negative jerk of her head, not wanting to explain how at twenty-eight, she couldn’t handle the high acid content in her favorite beverage.
    Aunt Elspeth put a mug of steaming