The third installment of Annabeth Albert’s Hotshots series—the emotions and intensity of Chicago Fire with the raw, natural elements of Man vs. Wild.
When their career paths bring two high school sweethearts together again, the forest isn’t the only thing ablaze...
Fire behavior specialist Luis Riviera goes where his job takes him. But when he’s assigned to an arson investigation in Central Oregon—the place he left his broken heart twenty years ago—he’s afraid of being burned all over again.
Tucker Ryland had planned to join his first love, Luis, in LA after high school graduation, but life got in the way. Now a fire management expert and a divorced father of teen twins, Tucker’s thrown for a loop when he finds himself working side by side with his Luis, now all grown up and more intriguing than ever.
Though consumed by a grueling fire season and family responsibilities, the two men discover their bond has never truly broken. Tentative kisses turn to passionate nights. But smoking sheets aside, old hurts and new truths stand in the way of this time being the start of forever.
Danger lurks everywhere for Central Oregon’s fire crews, but the biggest risk of all might be losing their hearts. Don’t miss the Hotshots series from Annabeth Albert: High Heat, Burn Zone and Feel the Fire.
Also available from Annabeth Albert
and Carina Press
Better Not Pout
Status Update
Beta Test
Connection Error
Off Base
At Attention
On Point
Wheels Up
Squared Away
Tight Quarters
Rough Terrain
Arctic Sun
Arctic Wild
Arctic Heat
Burn Zone
High Heat
Also available from Annabeth Albert
Trust with a Chaser
Tender with a Twist
Lumber Jacked
Treble Maker
Love Me Tenor
All Note Long
Served Hot
Baked Fresh
Delivered Fast
Knit Tight
Wrapped Together
Danced Close
Resilient Heart
Winning Bracket
Save the Date
Level Up
Mr. Right Now
Sergeant Delicious
FEEL THE FIRE
Annabeth Albert
To the ones who got away, the ones who got second chances and the ones who earned their shot at forever
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Author Note
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Excerpt from Burn Zone by Annabeth Albert
Chapter One
“You want me to go where?” Luis paced the narrow length of his boss’s office, ignoring the visitor’s chair in front of where Rosalind sat. His pulse alternately revved and sputtered, struggling to keep up with the freaking live grenade Rosalind and the Forest Service had just lobbed into his life.
“Central Oregon. The Painter’s Ridge air base is there along with an interagency hotshot crew and, of course, a large forest service office. It’s a big operation.”
“I know what’s there.” Even now, he could picture exactly what was there—endless sky, big ranches, surprising number of cowboys, and Tucker. But not the Tucker of his memories. Chestnut hair. Gap between his teeth. Floppy hair over his ears. Penny in his sneakers. That boy was gone forever, replaced by a fully adult Tucker, who undoubtedly had a happy wife, happy life, maybe a half-dozen kids by now, all with Tucker’s damn smile. That boy—man—had roots as deep as a two-hundred-year-old fir in that area, and no way was Luis getting lucky by him having moved away or something.
“I had a feeling you might. You grew up near there, right?” She gave him an encouraging smile, sun glinting off her short gray hair. She was one of the few in the building with a window in her office. Usually he enjoyed visiting her and her collection of houseplants and stacks of forestry manuals, but not today.
“Something like that.” His voice was probably terser than Rosalind deserved, as they’d been good work friends before she’d taken this promotion, but damn, he was still reeling. “I grew up in Riverside mainly, but we spent some years up in Oregon when my dad was transferred there to manage a new bank branch. All my family’s back here in California now though,” he added in case she was under the mistaken impression that he was pining for the area. No, he’d gotten all the pining out of his system years ago and all that was left was a bitter, ashy taste and a major distrust of toothy grins and careful promises.
I promise to write.
I’ll wait for you. I’ll wait forever.
You’re the one. My one.
“Hmm.” Rosalind’s mouth twisted. “I’m not saying this assignment will be easy. Extended travel is never fun. And I’m sure your family will miss you. You’re not seeing anyone right now, are you?”
Ah. There it was. The real reason Luis was being shipped north. In a large office with several fire behavior specialists, he might well be the best, but he was also the only single guy, only one without kids. And that made him expendable. This wasn’t the first time the forest service had loaned him out to a region with great need—he’d spent a few weeks in northern California last year, and in Montana with the big national park fires the year before that. But fucking Oregon? That he wasn’t prepared for.
“If I say yes, will that get me out of this?” He gave her his best smile, but she simply sighed.
“Sorry. I know this is short notice. But you’ll get the travel per diem. If you’re frugal with food, that can be a nice little bonus for you, maybe?” Her dark eyes pleaded with him to understand and not make her day that much harder. And anywhere else in the country and he’d already be back at his desk, making arrangements. But this was Oregon and he was going to dig his heels in.
“I’m not worried about the money. But you’re saying this could be more than a couple of weeks. I’ve got...” He cast around for some good reason. His coworkers had softball games and kid day camps and family reunions this time of year, but he was rather low on excuses for himself. A hollow feeling bloomed in his chest as he tried to remind himself that he liked his life, liked his freedom from entanglements and encumbrances. After Mike, he hadn’t wanted anything to do with domestic bliss, not ever again. And sure, he had a social life, but nothing he could point to as a commitment. Those he stayed away from. “The cat and—”
“You took her with you to Mendocino. I remember.” Smiling, she shook a finger at him. He’d let her assume he was an indulgent pet parent instead of a guy
who was reluctant to pay sky-high pet-sitter fees while he was stuck with someone else’s cat. “We’ll make sure we find you a pet-friendly extended-stay place with a kitchenette. I know you like to make your own food. And assuming you want to drive it, I can arrange mileage too.”
“It’s thirteen hours, give or take.” He’d had that number memorized for decades now, dating back to when it had seemed to matter with life-and-death urgency, each mile an endless chasm between him and what he really wanted. But now it was simply a scar, a wound he’d rather not acknowledge, let alone reopen.
“Do it over two days,” she urged, apparently assuming that was him agreeing. “And come on, Luis, don’t look at me that way. I wouldn’t ask you if you weren’t seriously needed. They’ve been shorthanded all season thanks to this hiring freeze we’re all under, but now it’s reached crisis level there with a maternity leave, a stroke, and an abrupt move. They’re dealing with a much greater number than usual of spot fires.”
“Arson?” He didn’t want to be curious, but his neck prickled all the same.
“That’s the working theory. They don’t have anyone with your level of expertise right now. Their crews are overworked, and management is stretched thin. They need help getting through this peak of the fire season, and they need a specialist with your qualifications. So when an old friend called in a favor, I immediately thought of you.”
The single guy. But he only nodded. He could tell when something was a losing effort, and trying to get her to send someone else surely was. Just like he’d been well and truly screwed at sixteen when his parents had moved back to California partway through his junior year.
They’re making me go.
I don’t have a choice.
I’m gonna miss you forever.
At least at thirty-five he was a touch less dramatic. He’d get through this. Somehow.
“You’re exactly what they need.”
Somehow, he doubted that. “Wasn’t that you last week complaining that I’m too headstrong and that I don’t take critique well?”
“Oh that.” Rosalind made a dismissive gesture. “I mean, you’re the best fire behavior specialist I know of. It’s why Mendocino asked for you last year. And it’s why I know you’re going to do excellent here. And I’m going to owe you. Seriously.”
“Yeah, you are.” He managed to keep his tone almost playful, not petulant, but it was a close thing. Her flattery wasn’t unnoticed either—she’d known the mention of arson would pique his professional interest, and he did have an excellent reputation in his specialty of identifying and predicting how a particular fire would react to given variables like wind, weather, and type of response available. He was used to working with various incident commands and interagency teams of wildfire fighters, and he tried his best to be adaptable and good with crisis situations. In short, he’d be perfect for this job. But, Oregon.
Rosalind leaned forward, expression kinder now that he’d agreed. “Isn’t there anyone up there you’d like to see again? Old friends?”
“Nope.” He had a vibrant social media life but not a single Oregonian on his contacts list, hadn’t for years now. Then, as Rosalind frowned because that was kind of harsh, he added, “I fell out of touch with my high school friends. I’ll be okay though. No warrants for my arrest up there or anything.”
“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 cornflakes 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 dar
k 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?
Feel the Fire (Hotshots) Page 1