“No. I heard your voice in my head. Deploy your shelter. You were there, Jed. At least in the beginning.”
His Adam’s apple moved in his throat. He blew out another breath as he walked to the edge of the deck. Held onto the rail.
She watched his rumpled skin turn white against the railing.
Oh, Jed. She walked up, put her hand on his back. He drew in a quick breath as if her touch wounded him.
“I didn’t tell you, either, because I didn’t want to scare you.”
“I’m already scared, pretty much all the time, Kate.” He looked down at her. “Every time you go up I feel a little sick.” He sighed. “But I know that’s the way it is. I can’t keep you from jumping—well, I can...”
She dropped her hand, frowned.
“But I won’t. Not anymore. Because I think...I hope you finally get it.” He turned to her, took her hands. “You were a little crazy today with Hannah.” His thumbs moved over her hands, sending tingles, heat up her arms.
“She nearly died, Jed. Of course I freaked out. She’s my protégé. And maybe like a kid sister to me and—”
“And you care about her.”
“A lot.”
“Exactly.” He stepped closer to her, touched her cheek. “Except you’re not in love with Hannah.”
Then he bent down and ever so softly kissed her. Sweetly, lingering, not even testing, but as if he’d been waiting, banking the fire to a slow burn until this perfect, singular moment.
He tasted of the sweet lemonade, still cool on his lips, and she didn’t quite know how to react, except—
Yes.
She’d been dying to kiss this man—really kiss him—since that day seven years ago at Grizzly’s when she’d taken him in her arms. The panicked kiss in the tent didn’t count, wrought from adrenaline, filled with regret.
This kiss she meant.
She’d never stopped loving Jed Ransom, from the day he appeared on her doorstep all the way to the night after they’d nearly perished in their fire shelter, when she’d held him again, this time trembling in her arms.
Jed. She pressed her hands to his amazing, muscled chest. He made the slightest moan, deep in the back of his throat, moving his hands around her, pulling her in close. Then he angled his head to deepen the kiss, nudging her mouth open, diving in as if kissing her might be the way he stopped time and delivered them both into a pocket of reality where fire and loss and fear couldn’t find them. Where, for a delicious, blessed moment, they clung to each other, safe.
They’d had it once, briefly, and he brought them to it again with the smell, the sense of him, strong, capable. We’re going to live through this, Kate.
The past seven years fell away, puddled around her as she sank into him, wrapping her arms around his neck, losing herself in the breadth and height of surrender.
He backed her up, and she felt the table against the back of her legs. Then, his hands were on her waist and he lifted her to sit on the table. She leaned back, and he caught her chin in his hand, lifted her gaze to his.
His smoky blue eyes glistened as his eyes roamed her face, his expression so tender it lodged her heart in her throat. He caught her wet hair, twining it between his strong fingers before he nestled it behind her ear, trailing his hand down her neck, back to cradle her face. “Oh boy, am I in trouble.”
She frowned but added a smile. “Why?”
“I can feel Jock staring down at me, and I’m just bracing myself for the lightning.”
She looked up, over his shoulder. “Sky looks clear.”
“Yeah, but he’s in my head, screaming.”
She laughed. “Yeah, well, Dad was always a little overprotective.”
Jed’s expression turned solemn. “I promise to not hurt you again, Kate.”
“You can’t promise that,” she said, smoothing her hands down his sculpted chest. Wow, she remembered this too, being pressed against his body as he shielded her from the heat of the fire.
His thumb drew down in a caress. “Then I’ll try. I won’t freak out every time you jump out of a plane, and I’ll do my best to trust you.” He touched his forehead to hers. “And if I can help it, you’ll never have to go through a fire alone again.” She reached up, touched her fingers to his dark whiskers. “That’ll probably take a little faith on your part.”
He drew in a breath. “A little.” Then he leaned down and kissed her again.
Jed didn’t need a parachute to fly.
He sat at his desk, amidst the weather reports, requisitions for food, supplies, and equipment, and a briefing from the new hotshot crew boss, Axel Calhoun, and fire couldn’t touch him.
His brain zeroed in on one thing—the fact that Kate sat in the loft, repairing parachutes. He had a vision of himself sneaking in, wrapping her up in one of the silken clouds, disappearing with her in his arms.
He wasn’t sure how he’d gone from standing at the edge of her world to an all-out dive into what he’d been quietly longing for his entire life, but he wasn’t going to look up, see a possible tear in his canopy.
Jed leaned back in his desk chair, balancing it on two legs as he peered out into the main area where Weather and Dispatch monitored lightning strikes and callouts from other stations. The squawk box buzzed out updates now and again, but nothing to make him worry.
That’ll probably take a little faith on your part.
Kate’s words. And, while he’d shrugged them away before, now they found him, burrowed in, sat there, itching.
Maybe not. Because something had shifted in Kate when she watched Hannah plummet from the sky—a realization, finally, of exactly how it felt to watch someone you’ve trained die—or nearly—on your watch.
She understood. And when she told him about how she’d deployed her shelter, although it could tear him asunder to think of her alone and terrified again, fighting the heat and terror—the fact that she had deployed, that she hadn’t frozen...a guy could almost breathe again.
She knew the costs and how to take care of herself, and besides, he planned on being with her every single jump this summer.
Which was why, perhaps, he’d let himself lean in, take her in his arms. Why today he wasn’t slamming his head against a wall, the panic welling up to choke him. And why he couldn’t get his mind off heading down to the parachute loft. Sure, if Miles found out, he might decide to put the kibosh on their new status. But this wasn’t just a flashover summer romance.
This was Blazin’ Kate Burns, the woman he’d never been able to extinguish from his heart.
In the main area, a half-eaten tuna fish sandwich lay in its open wrapper on the counter next to a large map that covered one wall, push-pins indicating fires both current and past around the nation. The hotshot team, including the veteran smokejumpers who had attached to it, had returned late last night. He’d risen to Pete and Reuben’s gear piled in the family room, the husky scent of smoke rising from the pile of grimy clothing.
Miles returned in a moment, picking up the sandwich, chewing as he studied the board, a printout in his hand. Jed got up, wandered out to him. “What do you see?”
“There’s a flare-up south of here, in the Bob Wilderness, but the Missoula jumpers are on it. And the West Yellowstone team is on a fire down in the Wind River Range. The McCall team went in to boost the Grangeville group down in the Seven Devils in Idaho.” He took another bite of his lunch. “And we’re just sitting around, reading magazines.”
“The team needs a little R&R after this past week,” Jed said. “And tonight is the graduation for the smokejumpers, so there’s a party brewing.”
Miles washed the last of his meal down with a Coke. “How many finished?”
“We have ten for sure, two more on the line.” A line over which he didn’t know if he should push them. In fact— “Is Kate still in the loft?” He kept his voice cool, and it must have worked because Miles shrugged, crushed his can, and tossed it into the trash in a practiced basketball shot.
“Think so,” he said, and leaned over their weather tech, eyes on the high and low pressure fronts dotting their way across the screen.
Jed left him there and, casually, his hands in his pockets, walked down the hall then into the ready room. At one of the long tables, their master rigger, Ruck Cameron, was folding a chute, the lines laid out, the canopy smoothed.
“Jed,” he said in greeting. “I’ve pulled out every chute, and Kate’s checking them over. The woman is driven.”
“She watched one of her rookies take a swan dive, nearly hit the dirt. Yeah, I’d say she’s driven,” Jed said, clamping him on the back. Twenty years Ruck had invested in the packing game. Jed found it hard to believe he’d missed a rip in a canopy. Ruck apparently did too, because he shook his head.
“Some of these canopies are old, but I go through every one after a fire, make sure it’s still sound. Can’t figure how three of them ended up with tears.”
“Three?”
“I know. Terrifying,” he said, and nodded toward the tower, where parachutes hung from the ceiling like jellyfish. On the other side of the room, he could hear the whir of a Singer. “Kate is doing a little extra reinforcement.”
A little? Jed turned and spotted Kate, a canopy laid out, two more wadded on the workbench. The rest of the chutes lay folded on the tables. He stood watching her as she bent over the machine, her hair plaited in two braids, held back with a blue bandana tied behind her head. She wore a yellow team T-shirt and her regulation canvas pants, a pair of Keens, and had caught her lip on her bottom teeth in concentration.
He could stand here all day waiting for the brilliant smile that could stop his world cold, restart it with a flush of heat and desire.
Wow, he loved her.
Loved. He hadn’t let his feelings congeal into thought until now, but in truth he couldn’t remember not loving her.
The realization swept through him, and in its wake, a tremble at how much he longed for them to find a way to live happily-ever-after in a world where a stiff wind could blow their lives apart.
He unleashed a steadying breath, shoved his hands into his pockets, and headed over to her.
She looked up, and he expected a smile. Instead— “Wait until you see what I found.”
“That sounds ominous.”
She finished stitching the row, pulled the fabric away, and snipped the ends of the threads. Then she got up and took his hand.
He was hoping for something a little more affectionate, but she dragged him over to the table. “So far I found three chutes with tears.”
“Yeah, Ruck told me. That sounds...well, not okay, but these are old chutes—”
“I’m not talking regular wear and tear.” She picked up a chute, searching through the yards of silken white fabric. She located her source, grabbed it, turning. “This is not a rip, Jed. This is a tear—a deliberate tear.”
He took the fabric, examining the tear. A three-inch opening, about six inches from a seam.
“See how it’s smooth, like it’s been stabbed and pulled? The threads are seared clean off. If this had been a puncture, say from a tree, it would be jagged, the surrounding threads dangling. And wear usually happens around the seams, not in the middle of the fabric.”
She put her hand over the hole, looked up at him. “This was deliberate.”
He took a breath. “Kate—seriously. Yes, this looks like what you say, but think about it. Who would deliberately sabotage the chutes of a jump team?”
“Right? It’s crazy.” She took a long breath. “I don’t know. But I’ve checked all the chutes, and only these three”—she indicated the two on the table, the one at her machine—“are damaged. And I also reinforced a few fraying seams on the others. We should be good to go, but I think we need to lock up the ready room and the loft when we’re not here.”
He had no words for that, or the insane idea that someone might want to hurt them.
“Maybe they got damaged after the fire last year. There were a lot of people upset—they could have been handled roughly.”
She studied him for a moment, then her breath eased out. “Maybe. You’re right—there was a lot of chaos at the end of the season. Who knows how—or by whom—these chutes were put away.”
He took her hand, pressed it to his mouth. “Good thing you’re here,” he said, then drew her to himself. “We’ll lock up the loft...in fact, I like that idea a lot...” He caught her chin in his hand, lowering his mouth for a kiss.
“Jed! What are you doing?” She pressed her hands to his chest, her voice cut low as she glanced over his shoulder at Ruck. “Not here.”
He grinned and took her hand, pulling her toward the tower. “C’mon—no one will see us...”
“Jed—”
He glanced at Ruck, absorbed in his packing, and then pushed her into the tower and toward the frothy embrace of a white canopy, draping it around them. “I used to dream about this,” he said, settling his hands on her hips. “I’ve always been a little crazy about you, Kate. From the first moment I met you and you looked up at me with those amazing green eyes. You always made me feel invincible.”
He tugged on her braid, and her beautiful mouth answered in a grin.
“It was your laughter and the way you made everybody feel like they belonged—made me feel like I belonged. Every time I headed up to the Airstream to shoot the breeze with your dad, I was secretly hoping you’d wander out, sit with us under the stars. I’m not sure why, but you made me feel safe, Kate. Maybe it was the fact that I could see myself in your eyes—”
“Oh, I wasn’t that easy, was I?”
He laughed. “You were. I could see you crushing on me for miles.”
She covered her face. “I was so transparent.”
He drew her hand away, kissed it. “It only made me like you more.” He folded his fingers between hers. “I was always trying to figure out ways to talk to you without Jock knowing about it. In my worst nightmares he figured out the mad crush I had on you, too, and he beat me within an inch of my life. Or kicked me off the hotshots—I’m not sure what would have been worse.”
“You’re pretty tough. You could have taken the beating,” she said, winking.
“Yeah, well, I can admit to a few scuffles with guys who might have had their eye on you. Like that guy Nate, from Sheridan. He practically followed you around the entire summer.”
“He was cute. A cowboy—”
“He was a loose cannon. Walked off the line halfway through the summer. He didn’t know how to stick around to the end.”
“And you do?” She touched his cheek, running her finger down his face into the hollow of his neck, lighting a fire.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice husky. He couldn’t stop himself from leaning over, brushing her neck with his lips. “I do. Although I can admit this, here, was something I thought would never happen.” He raised his head, caught her gaze. “I should have done this seven years ago,” he said softly and bent down, pressing his lips to hers.
Now this was what he’d been thinking about, waiting for all day. The heady abandon of losing himself in Kate’s smell, the taste of her, the little noise she made when he kissed her well, how she moved into him, molding herself to him.
It was Grizzly’s and more. Much more, because this Kate was smarter, savvier. This Kate knew just how hard it was for him to let her go.
This Kate would be careful with his way-too-fragile heart.
She wove her hands up, around his neck, playing with the hair at his nape, stretching her body against his, her kiss languid and soft, lingering. It was all he could do not to skim his hands down her body, give in to the sudden racing of his heart.
But despite the fact Jock had departed from the earth, he still lingered in Jed’s head. Enough for him to rein in his desire. For now.
Still, the longing turned every nerve ending to fire as he pressed his forehead to hers. “In my head, I dreamed of us fighting fires together, building a life in Ember. I might not h
ave thought that through all the way, what that meant, but I always believed we belonged together, Kate.”
She leaned back, her eyes shining. “We’re going to be okay, aren’t we? You’re not going to freak out the next time I put on my jumpsuit, right?”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “How about if we talk about something else. Like whether we pass Hannah and Riley.”
She frowned, just a little. “Jed, seriously—”
“I trust you, okay? You just need to trust me back. I’m going to keep my promise to do my best to not freak out, all right?”
She traced her finger down his cheek, freshly shaven this morning. “I think we need to pass them both.”
“Really?” He put her away from him, just enough so that she didn’t distract him with the feel of her body against his, the touch of her hands—although he couldn’t run too far, not inside the tower. “I don’t know...”
“Riley McCord has finally stopped thinking of this as a grand adventure. Getting rid of Paul helped. I think he can actually do this. And Hannah. She’s wants this.”
“She can barely make her landings,” he said.
“But yesterday she didn’t freak out when her reserve got knotted. She kept her cool.”
“She had no choice,” he said, wanting suddenly to forget the image of her struggling with the chute and how, for ten long seconds, he thought he might throw up in front of his recruits. And the thought of what he’d have to say to Ray...he shook the image away. That was why he remained detached—or tried to. So he could do his job. “I know she wants this, but—”
“She could have screamed and lost her head, even done something really stupid and cut away her reserve. But she didn’t—she fought the knot and won.”
“This time.”
“Right. Well, we can only do what we can—I’ve examined all the chutes, Ruck is repacking them, and the rest we have to leave to faith that everyone will be okay.”
“Really?”
She drew in a long breath, lifted a shoulder. “Trying on my dad’s legacy. He always had it, you know—faith. Only time I saw it shaken was—”
“In Alaska.”
Where There's Smoke: inspirational romantic suspense (Montana Fire Book 1) Page 13