“I asked how you got into wildlife photography.”
“Oh, right. Sorry. Uh, I studied for it in college. I’ve been obsessed with photography since I was little and my mom got me this—” She laughed as heat flooded her cheeks. “Too much information.”
“No, tell us,” Lennard said, leaning forward on his elbows on the other side of Dalton.
“Okay. My mom bought me this Polaroid camera when I was a kid, and I fell in love with taking pictures of things I thought people missed in the everyday.”
“Like what?” Chance asked.
She puffed air out of her cheeks and frowned, trying to recall some of her early photographs. “Like my mom’s face when my dad brought her flowers. My sisters when they were actually getting along, playing in a sandbox.” She swallowed hard and admitted low, “How beautiful and heartbroken my mom looked at my dad’s funeral. That’s weird, I know. But for me, it helped me deal with what was happening. I could see someone else’s grief, and it was real and moving, and I didn’t feel alone with my own heartache when I captured those moments that weren’t the brave-face kind. I almost ran us broke with the refills for that old Polaroid camera, so when I was able, I saved up and bought a film camera. I love animals, so I volunteered at a local zoo every summer, mostly running the youth programs, but I would bring my camera along and take pictures of the animals in their cages. But that made me sad, seeing them all cooped up, and every picture had some kind of fencing in it, no matter what angle I shot, so when I started taking my college classes for photography, I took animal sciences, behavior, and husbandry for electives so that I could work toward…well…this. I got lucky and landed an internship at Bucks and Backwoods right when they started up, and now I’m here, shooting Alaskan brown bears.”
“Lucky you,” Chance said with a snort.
“I am. I beat out some of the best photographers in the company to come here. This is my shot at having one of those careers I only dreamed of. All of my hard work has led me to this trip. Alaska has been a dream of mine since I was a kid.”
“Is this your first time here?” Dalton asked.
“My very first time.”
“Alaska virgin,” Dalton said through an obnoxious grin.
Lena rolled her eyes and sighed. If he knew how accurate his name calling was, he wouldn’t ever let up on teasing her, so she just laughed it off and stood, empty plate in hand. “Storytime’s over, boys. I’m beat.”
Jenner pulled the chair back to allow her out, and she whispered, “Thank you,” at his unexpected gentlemanly gesture.
Stomach churning with emotion—nostalgia for her journey here, sadness remembering Dad’s funeral, and the strange tickling sensation in her middle that Jenner conjured—she rinsed her dish and waved goodnight to the men all sitting quietly around the dining table.
It wasn’t until after she’d showered and was laying in bed, sketching in her notebook, that a soft knock sounded at her door. Only when she opened it, the man standing there wasn’t the one she’d hoped for. It was Dalton, looking uncomfortable and unsure of himself.
“I wanted to say something, but I’ll sound like a total dick, and you’ll tell me it’s none of my business, but I don’t want to spend the next week thinking about you out there without warning you.”
“Okay,” she murmured, baffled.
He jerked his head toward Jenner’s room and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Be careful with that one, Lena. He’s a good man. The best. But he’s not right for any woman. He can’t keep one, you understand?”
Pissed that he was warning her off Jenner, she asked, “And you are the right kind of man for a woman, right?”
“No, I didn’t say that. None of us are. We’d be worthless as mates—” Jenner dropped his gaze to the hem of her flannel pajama pants. “What I’m saying is, don’t give your heart to someone who can’t keep it safe.”
Dalton gave her a sad smile, then without another word, turned and strode off toward his room at the entrance of the hallway.
His door clicked closed as she stood halfway in the hall, baffled on what had just happened. She frowned at Jenner’s door and wondered just what she’d gotten herself into, choosing him as a guide.
Dalton’s words hadn’t sounded like the whispered deception of a jealous man.
They’d sounded like an honest warning.
Chapter Five