High Heat

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by Annabeth Albert


  “Better not be.” She laughed and offered him the bowl of candy she kept on her desk. “This will work out. You’ll see.”

  “Hope so.” He crunched into a cinnamon hard candy, letting the heat fill his mouth and tamp down some of his reservations. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. It was a big area. Fair number of people spread out through several small farming communities. And he hadn’t checked—thank you, iron self-control—but chances were high that Tucker was off running his dad’s ranch by now. Him and that smiling wife and half a dozen kids. He’d be way too busy to be concerned about what the forest service was up to. Luis would simply get a room for himself and Blaze and plant his ass there when he wasn’t working. If he didn’t have to see Tucker, this didn’t have to be anything other than a pain in the neck temporary assignment.

  * * *

  “I’m sorry, we’re getting who?” Tucker was usually all about getting through the morning meeting as quickly as possible, and he’d learned through years of working with Fred that too many questions would slow the boss down, lead to tangents and rambles and a lost morning he could have been working. And a lost morning meant being late getting out of here in the afternoon, meant another hasty dinner for him and the twins and grumbles all around. So he made a point of paying attention to the announcements and getting information right the first time, but this time he had to have heard Fred wrong.

  “New fire behavior specialist out of California—Angeles National Forest is sending him since we’re still under a hiring freeze and now down to a bare-bones operation. You know all that. You were complaining about overtime last week.”

  “I get that we need some more boots on the ground. But I’ve been working as burn boss the last several fires, and Garrick’s coming along too. Would be nice if they’d send us some more admin support and not someone who’s going to expect a leadership role.”

  “Don’t get your feathers ruffled. You’re both an asset to incident command, sure, but we need this guy’s fire behavior experience, especially as it pertains to arson. He’s got the analytical skills we can use and the experience to back it up.”

  “Glad they’re finally taking the arson suspicions seriously. And what did you say the name was?” That last part was what he really wanted to know. He could deal with the problem of too many chefs in the kitchen, but he could have sworn Fred had said—

  “Luis Rivera. Comes to us with great experience.”

  “Sounds good.” He managed a nod, even as his head swam. Fuck. Maybe there were a lot of guys with that name in the LA area. Maybe it was some stodgy near-retiree and not the darkest, deepest pair of eyes Tucker had ever known. The voice, husky and earnest. The smile he’d never forget.

  “Apparently he knows the area at least a little is what his boss told me on the phone.”

  And with that, Tucker’s corn flakes and coffee turned to bricks in his stomach, a heavy weight he hadn’t felt in eons. There might be plenty of guys with that name in California but there had only been one Luis Rivera in central Oregon, the one who’d left with Tucker’s heart all those years ago.

  “They’re making me go.” Luis’s voice had wavered, first time Tucker had seen him cry since he’d broken his arm back on a fourth grade dare, and even then, he’d been more mad than sad, all sputtering bravado. This was a level of devastation Tucker had never seen from his friend.

  His chest hurt, like he was some hapless cartoon character and his heart really had been cleaved in half by this news. Scooting closer, he wrapped an arm around Luis’s slim shoulders, trying to be brave for both of them.

  “You could stay with us to finish school. Share my room and—”

  “I’m hardly your parents’ favorite person.” Luis’s weighty sigh hit Tucker like that time a swing had slammed into his gut, because he was right. Tucker’s parents weren’t going to come charging in to save the day.

  “I’ll wait for you,” he promised.

  Only Tucker hadn’t. And if it was that same Luis, well, there wasn’t going to be any avoiding him. As shorthanded as they were, it wasn’t like Tucker could claim some of his mountain of unused vacation days. Fred would want him working closely with this person. But maybe he could figure a way around—

  “Should be here any minute.”

  Or not. Damn it. He needed time to sort himself out, time he apparently wasn’t going to get because here came Fred’s assistant, Christine, knocking at the conference room door, ushering in...

  A stranger.

  Not the boy Tucker had known. A man. One with a couple of flecks of gray in his dark hair, which was neatly styled, not all choppy and goth, and he had a lean, muscular build, taller than him by a couple of inches, not some scrawny kid. His shoulders were solid, a man who had known his share of heavy labor, and the biceps peeking out of his forest service polo said he kept that work up. The edge of a tattoo played peekaboo with his sleeve. Tucker’s memory had miles of smooth tawny skin, no tattoos or scars like the one this guy had on his other arm.

  But right when Tucker’s shoulders were about to relax, the pit in his stomach starting to ease, the guy frowned, and Tucker would recognize that hard, defiant look anywhere. Luis’s head tilted, revealing the familiar curve of his neck to his shoulder that Tucker remembered all too well.

  “Tucker?” The Californian accent drew out the vowels in his name, an effect that could make him feel special and singled out when whispered on a starless night. But add a little disdain and a deeper timbre than Tucker recalled, and it made him feel like an unwanted extra in a surfing movie.

  “Yeah.” He nodded, head feeling untethered, like a helium balloon about to escape.

  “What the—” Luis blinked, then drew his shoulders back, professional distance taking over, smoothing his facial features and softening his next few words. “Sorry. Wasn’t expecting...”

  “Y’all know each other?” Fred stood to greet the newcomer with a hearty handshake. “Now, that’s just great. Small world, right?”

  “Right,” Tucker echoed weakly, unable to take his eyes off Luis. “Small world.”

  Too small. Especially considering that he’d once seen the miles between them as an uncrossable sea, a distance so great it made his brain hurt almost as much as his heart. Once upon a time, he would have given anything to end up in the same room again, weeks of working together looming, and now he’d trade an awful lot to avoid it.

  “We went to school together a few years,” Luis said dismissively, body-slamming eight years of best friendship to the ground, reducing everything they’d been to a chance acquaintanceship.

  Tucker almost couldn’t breathe and sure as hell couldn’t get the words out to correct Luis. And even if he could find the power of speech, what the fuck was he supposed to say?

  Nothing. That was all he could do, so he managed a nod without meeting Luis’s eyes.

  “Good, good.” Fred continued talking, explaining the office management structure to Luis and asking about his drive up from the LA area, but Tucker’s ears were ringing too loud to register Luis’s answers. Luis was here, invading the office Tucker had worked out of a good decade plus now, never a problem. Now here Luis was after all these years, looking all grown up and pissed off and way, way too good to ignore. He might not be the same boy anymore, but he was a man, and that was possibly more devastating to Tucker’s sanity.

  Tucker had spent almost two decades working around wildfires, first on a line crew, then engine and hotshot outfits, paying his dues before moving into fire management. He’d worked hard on his reputation for being unflappable under pressure. No one wanted a burn boss who startled easily or who couldn’t keep his temper. And after all that time on the front lines of fires, not much scared him anymore. Except maybe Luis and the prospect of needing to work alongside him and pretend that they hadn’t once been everything to each other. And more to the point, Luis had every reason in the world to s
till be pissed at him, even after all this time. Tucker couldn’t expect him to simply forgive and forget any more than he himself could.

  As Fred talked, Luis kept glancing over at Tucker, mouth still twisting like he couldn’t believe his rotten luck. Or maybe like he was expecting to wake up any minute from this bad dream. Lord knew Tucker felt the same way. Wake up, damn it. He had plenty of other stuff to worry about this summer more than Luis’s sudden reappearance.

  “So Tucker can show you around the office, introduce you to our support staff, show you where we keep the coffee.” Not even looking at Tucker, Fred nodded like this was a done deal. “He’ll bring you up to speed on our various projects. This is undoubtedly a smaller operation than you’re used to, but we’re family here. Everyone pitches in, and we get the job done, one way or another. You’ll see. I’ve got a good feeling you’re going to fit right in.”

  Tucker had the exact opposite feeling. And family or no, he wasn’t exactly eager for their past to become office gossip. These were his work colleagues, people he’d do anything for on a professional level, although personally, he’d always kept to himself and he’d like to keep it that way.

  But it wasn’t like he could argue with Fred or volunteer someone else—that would only raise suspicion, start that gossip mill chattering. No, he’d have to face this head-on.

  “Yup. I can do that.” There. He sounded normal. Distant yet helpful even.

  “I appreciate it.” Luis spoke more to Fred than him, not bothering to glance Tucker’s way until they were in the hall. Together. Alone.

  Forget all his usual cool resolve. This was fucking terrifying. Every cell in his body took notice of Luis’s nearness in the narrow space, the way he smelled like an unfamiliar spicy and citrusy aftershave, the way he was too big, nothing at all like Tucker’s memories, tall enough now to glower down at Tucker.

  “What the hell, Tucker?” Luis’s voice was low, but the fury there was unmistakable. Yup. Two decades might have passed since they’d last locked eyes, but he was still angry.

  Before he could reply, Christine came bustling down the hallway with a cheery “It’s Selma’s birthday today! There’s cake in the breakroom. Make sure the new guy gets a piece.”

  “Sure thing.” Tucker managed a nod her direction before she disappeared into the copy room right next to where they were standing. Goodbye chances of a long conversation he undoubtedly needed to have with Luis. What he wanted to say wasn’t going to happen with an audience. Instead he took a deep breath and forced a hearty tone. “Let’s start your tour there, then. Get you some coffee and cake. Follow me.”

  Luis’s eyes narrowed like that was the very last thing he’d like to do. He opened and closed his mouth a few times while he darted his eyes to the copy room, posture tense until finally he exhaled.

  “Fine. Lead the way.” His tone was every bit as fake as Tucker’s.

  Damn. This was going to be a long-ass day of pretending things were fine. Wait. Long-ass weeks. Luis was here for weeks. And that meant at some point they would have to talk. It was inevitable really, and Tucker was already dreading it with his entire being. Hell, he’d live through the twins’ colicky phase again if it meant avoiding having it out with Luis. But one glance at Luis’s stiff shoulders and tight mouth told him no amount of bargaining with the universe would save him from Luis’s barely controlled anger. Weeks. It was going to be weeks, and he might not survive.

  Don’t miss Feel the Fire by Annabeth Albert, available fall 2020 wherever Carina Press ebooks are sold.

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  Copyright © 2020 by Annabeth Albert

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  HIGH HEAT (book two)

  FEEL THE FIRE (book three)

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  ISBN-13: 9781488057069

  High Heat

  Copyright © 2020 by Annabeth Albert

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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