by Bella Blake
“It’s shit timing, that’s for sure.” Hugh lets out a hard breath. “All hell is breaking loose, trying to control this thing. Besides us, they’ve already deployed hotshot and helitack crews. There are two smaller fires south of us, and with the direction they’re spreading, they might flank this one. It’s not looking good.”
The three of us grow quiet as we try to process what that means for us. With hundreds of acres burning and trails blocked off, this wild land is quickly becoming a death trap—and we’re standing in the middle of it.
When the silence stretches on too long, with the wind whipping over our heads and the trees groaning down below us as the only sounds, I lick my lips nervously. Despite drinking water, my lips are dry, and my face feels tight from the hot gusts blowing against us.
“So, what do we do now?”
My voice startles them and they both jolt as if they’d been lost in another world for a moment. They look around, scanning the area, but it’s pretty clear we’re stuck on this ridge.
Chase runs his fingers through his hair as he turns in a slow circle, orienting himself. “Well, that’s the summit of Walker Mountain,” he says, pointing at the shadowy silhouette of the overlook I spotted in the faint moonlight earlier. “And this is Hoyt Ridge. I was planning to take Spruce Creek Trail back down, but it’ll just put us right into the fire. The only other trail from here leads deep into the backcountry—there’s nothing for days if we go that way.”
Hugh’s expression is drawn into a frown, as though he’s reaching for far-flung memories. “There’s an old fire watch tower up here on this mountain range, maybe ten or twelve miles if we follow the ridge line. No idea what shape it’s in, but we can shelter there, and it might have an old radio transmitter with a crank battery.”
“Sounds like our best bet,” Chase says with a nod.
Hugh glances over at me, then looks at his brother and frowns. “Weren’t you with two women?”
“She didn’t make it,” I say over my shoulder, already walking back to my pack. I’m ridiculously tired, but it’s clear we’ve gotta keep moving to stay ahead of the fire.
“Oh damn, I’m so sorry,” Hugh says, his voice solemn.
I pause in strapping my pack on and blink, puzzled at his words. Then my eyes go wide and I hold up both hands. “Oh, no! God, no, that’s not what I meant,” I rush to assure him. “Vanessa didn’t make it here for the trip.”
“Ah, okay,” Hugh says, looking very relieved.
“She had to stay in town and work on a last-minute project,” I explain. “She’s fine, I promise. Not dead, definitely not dead.”
Chase runs his hands over his face, and I swear he’s trying not to laugh at me. I scrunch my nose and stick my tongue out at him. He looks away, but a chuckle of laughter escapes, and he glances back at me, his eyebrows waggling as he tries to hold in his amusement.
The whole situation is so ridiculous that I start snickering, too.
I’m picturing the look on Vanessa’s face when I re-enact this story for her, including this part where I accidentally killed her off for a few seconds and earlier, when I came face to face with the real-life embodiment of my vibrator. The laughter keeps bubbling out of me until I’m bent over, hands on my knees, in a half-laughing, half-coughing fit.
Chase is grinning as he digs in his backpack, but Hugh just shakes his head, looking at me like I’m nuts. He’s probably wondering how his brother had the bad luck of getting stranded in the mountains with a crazy lady.
I finally get myself under control, scrubbing my face with my hands and drawing in a deep breath. This weekend is unreal.
If it wasn’t for the fact we were basically stuck in the middle of hell on earth, I’d be thrilled to be on a wilderness trip with two incredibly sexy men. But right now, things are changing so quickly there’s no time to dwell on that.
A few hours ago, my greatest worry was trying to be quiet while getting myself off thinking about Chase sneaking into my tent. Now we have no tents, people are jumping out of planes, and I’m on the top of a mountain trying to escape a raging fire.
“Let’s go,” I say, sticking my thumbs through the loops on my straps and starting off along the ridge, my feet aching. I promise myself a pedicure later. And a massage. Definitely a massage.
“How do you know what direction to go?” Hugh asks, amusement in his voice. Chase slaps his brother in the chest and walks to join me.
“There’s only two ways to go—forward or back. Since that’s the summit back there,” I say, turning around to face Hugh as I point into the distance, “and the trail heads into the fire that way, it would seem we need to go the opposite direction to reach the tower.”
Chase’s gaze shifts between us, a glint of delight in his eyes as he watches his twin stare at me. I can see in Hugh what I’ve seen in a lot of men—the assumption that I’m just some clueless girl who could only find her way around a city mall.
“It’s not my first time in the woods, boys,” I say with a feisty smile.
They might be way more experienced than I am, and more familiar with this land than me, but I’m damn sure not a helpless idiot.
Hugh gives me another one of those scorching looks, his eyebrows raised like he’s surprised by my sass. I stare right back at him, holding my eyes steady, until he finally tears his gaze away.
As we set off along the ridge, all I can think about is that, until we’re rescued or find a way out on our own, these two guys are now my whole world. We’re going to be spending every waking—and sleeping—moment together, just the three of us.
The thought unsettles me even more than the sight of the flames nipping their way up the mountain. I might survive the wildfire, but I’m a lot less optimistic about surviving the ever-growing desire burning inside me.
8
MEGAN
At first, we talked as we hiked, with Chase and Hugh ribbing each other about a multitude of things as brothers do. A few times they hung back, falling behind me, and their voices would grow quieter.
I thought I heard my name once, but couldn’t make out what they said.
The trek was long and grueling, and it ended up being farther than Hugh remembered, or at least it sure seemed like it. By the time the tower came into view in the distance, we’d all fallen into silence, just concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other.
The fire watch tower is not exactly as modern as I expected.
We climb up the steep metal stairs, which are barely more than a zigzagging ladder up the side, and I can’t help but notice the structure seems nearly derelict, at least on the outside. I can only hope the inside is better, but anything would beat sleeping on the large, hard boulders that surround the tower.
I’m beyond exhausted—I’m used to day hikes and running three miles along the wide, flat path beside the river in the city, not hiking in rough terrain for nearly fourteen hours straight. We’ve all been going full-blast since the middle of the night, and here it is almost evening again.
Even the guys are showing signs of wear.
Especially Hugh. When we get to the top of the stairs, I reach for my bottle to offer him my water again, but Chase beats me to it.
As I carefully walk around the narrow, metal-framed deck surrounding the outside, I notice the wooden floorboards are badly warped and cupping from age and weather. But I’m grateful for a roof over our heads, even if it’s rustic in a decidedly uncharming way. Since we had to abandon our tents, and it looks like more storms are heading in, I’ll take whatever shelter I can get.
Although daylight arrived as we made our way here, the sun never broke through the smoky haze, and the soiled air burned my eyes. Fortunately, we should be safe here for a while—we’re out of the direct path of smoke, for now, and the area around the tower base is a bed of large boulders rather than brush and trees.
I turn away from the wilderness stretched out before us, much of it churning with active flames while the other parts sit silently, sm
oking and black as tar. It’s the same view we’ve had all morning as we hiked along the ridge, just a higher perspective now, which only makes the devastation that much more apparent.
Cupping my hands against the dirty glass of a window, I peer inside the tower.
Chase and Hugh are around the other side, trying the door, and I can feel the entire structure shake as one of them rams it. I decide I should make sure they don’t bring the building down, at least not while I’m still on it.
I turn the corner in time to see Hugh kick the door next to the handle. The door pops loose and swings in with a squeak.
Or maybe the sound comes from me, because I can’t remember any sight sexier than a fireman kicking in a door with such... casual expertise.
They look up at me and I swear Hugh grins bashfully, as though he damn well knows it was a badass move, but wasn’t expecting me to witness it.
“Well, it didn’t fly off the hinges at least,” he says.
“Yeah, that’d suck,” I agree hoarsely. “So,” I continue when the men just keep staring at me, “is it fine to go in?”
It’s like my question jolts them into action, and Hugh marches inside with Chase right behind him. I follow more cautiously, the boards creaking under our footsteps.
The guys sound like elephants crashing around inside, as if they don’t have any worries about the floor falling out from underneath them. Lucky them to be packing that kind of confidence.
Me? I’m not quite so sure about this place—it’s barely more than an old shack on top of a rickety ladder, so I edge inside slowly.
My eyes quickly adjust to the dim lighting filtering in through the dust the guys have kicked up. Windows span the entire structure, providing a three-hundred-sixty-degree view of the landscape, but because of the smoke clouding the sky and the heavy storms rolling in, I know we’ll need our headlamps long before nightfall.
“Home sweet home,” I say, taking my pack off with relief.
There isn’t much in the room. Just some shelving along one wall, some type of odd, shiny device mounted on a tripod, and a small desk. I dig through it, opening all the drawers, but the only thing I find is a yellowed manual for binoculars and a discarded pencil—the little short kind golfers use, without the eraser.
“Dammit,” Hugh grunts.
Chase and I both look over to see him poking around on the mostly barren shelves. He runs a hand along the top shelf above his head and comes away with nothing but dust.
“This place has been stripped,” he grumbles. “The case for the flare gun is empty. No radio or telephone. Hell, I’d settle for carrier pigeon at this point.”
“What’s that thing?” I ask, pointing at the tripod.
“A heliograph,” he says. “It’s a communicator, but it requires sunlight, a knowledge of Morse code, and more importantly, someone waiting for a message on the other end.”
My shoulders slump at the news. Damn, so much for a quick pickup by a rescue crew.
“Well, there goes that plan,” Chase says, speaking the words right out of my head. He drops his bag and takes a seat. “So, what’s the possibility that the fire crew or the park rangers will use this tower for a base camp?”
Hugh makes to kick the heliograph, obvious frustration curled in his muscles, but thinks better of it and moves away from it.
Not likely,” he says, scanning the ceiling beams. “This place doesn’t look wired for electricity, and they’re not gonna haul generators and all the necessary gear up here when there are far better places to set up.”
“Maybe we get cell reception up here?” I’m already reaching into my pack with hope and a prayer in my heart.
I was afraid to keep it powered on very long because the battery’s so low, but I checked it twice as we were hiking along the ridge and there wasn’t a hint of a signal. Now that we’re high above the tree line… maybe, just maybe we’ll get lucky.
“My phone is with the rest of my shit—on the side of the fucking cliff,” Hugh grumbles.
“Including your radio,” Chase says with a grimace as he fishes his phone out of his backpack. “That’d come in real handy right about now.”
My phone powers on and I hold my breath, silently wishing for at least a sliver of a bar to show up on the top of the screen. But no such luck. “Nothing,” I tell the guys with a dejected sigh.
From the frustrated look on Chase’s face as he stares at his screen, I can tell he doesn’t have good news, either. We both walk around the small space, holding our phones up as though we’re miraculously going to find a signal hiding in a corner of the tower. After a few minutes, I turn mine off and shove the useless thing back inside my pack.
I sit down next to my backpack and pull my knees to my chest, fighting back the twist of uncertainty wrapping around my heart and turning my stomach.
“So, what’s that mean for us?” I say, as much to myself as to the guys.
Chase takes a deep breath and blows it out in a frustrated huff as he wanders over to me and takes a spot on the floor. His shoulders slump and he scrubs at his face.
“It means we’re here for at least the night. Maybe longer,” he says. A big yawn grabs him and heaves out a big sigh. “Fuck, I’m too tired to think right now.”
I can sympathize, and even Hugh pulls away from brooding at the window like he’s Gatsby.
“Yeah, we’ve all had a shit day,” he adds and sits down near us, making a triangle shape between the three of us. He tosses me a sardonic grin. “Not exactly what you’d planned for your weekend getaway, is it?”
I laugh and shake my head. “Not in the slightest. Figured I’d hike some trails, take some photos, read a book, and ignore Vanessa flirting with the guide.”
“Your friend’s a flirt, then?” Hugh asks, then laughs as I give him an enthusiastic nod.
“Vanessa’s one of those women who goes after what she wants,” I say, a bit envious of my friend. “And she wants a lot of guys. I may have threatened to switch her coffee to decaf if I find out she bailed on me this weekend to enjoy a hot fling instead.”
Chase slaps his hand against his chest as if I’d stabbed him, gasping as he stares at me in mock horror. “Decaf? If I’d known you were such a heartless monster, I’d have left you to the flames!” he bemoans, making Hugh break out in laughter again, this time low and deep.
“Well, it ended up being a good thing,” I say, rolling my eyes and trying to suppress a smile. But inside, I’m happy I’ve made him laugh.
Chase cocks his head, his hand still on his chest, but this time his eyes are wide, “Oh was it? I do declare—were you planning on compromising me?”
The exaggerated southern debutante accent throws me for a minute, and I blink at him for a full three seconds before I half-snort and half-laugh, the sound coming out like I just choked on a bug. I shake my head, both embarrassed and tickled by the noise.
“No, I wasn’t. Scout’s honor,” I answer, holding up a three-finger salute as heat prickles along my skin.
I’m definitely not ready to admit that, had the fire not happened, I would have been up for some serious compromising. Buckets of it, in fact.
Hell, I still am, if I’m being honest.
“No, Vanessa wouldn’t have handled this well,” I tell them. “She’s a city spirit, through and through. I love her, but backpacking isn’t her thing. I had to practically bribe her to come on this trip in the first place.”
Hugh tugs his shirt off, revealing a soft, white tank-style undershirt, before leaning back on his hands. The thin material is clinging tightly to his muscles, and the view makes my mouth go dry.
“But it’s your thing?” he asks, tilting his head to one shoulder as he studies me.
It takes me a moment before I can reply, because I’m pretty certain my thing is now him. And Chase. But that’s not possible, I tell myself. Even though they’re both putting off such a perfect caveman, primal vibe that I want to tear off their shirts, rake my nails down their chests, and d
emand they make me purr like a Pleistocene tiger.
Instead, I restrain myself to only a shrug. “I’ve always enjoyed the outdoors. Getting away from it all for a while. You know, clear my mind and sort stuff out.”
“The wild’s good for that,” Chase agrees, settling back against his bag. “No technology to worry about. No social media, no politics, or Hollywood drama. Just you and nature.”
“Nothing else like it,” Hugh says with a nod. “We’ve always lived in this area. Hell, the place we grew up had a backyard tucked right up against the reserve. Pissed our mom off so bad every time we’d disappear into the trees, for hours at a time.”
“You boys are going to worry me to death out there in those mountains. You’re gonna fall and break your necks, or get eaten by a bear, or get lost in a cave, and make me go grey before I’m forty,” Chase says in a higher pitched voice, clearly mimicking his mom.
“I think you’re both a little crazy,” I tell them with a laugh, “so I don’t blame her a bit for worrying.”
“Yeah, me either. Honestly, we did a lot of stupid stuff back then,” Chase admits with a sheepish grin on his face. “Once she realized she couldn’t keep us out of the woods, she made sure we learned how to be smart and safe about it, at least as well as you can in a place like this.”
I lift an eyebrow at the guys. “Now you’re grown men, and not much has changed has it? One of you lives in the woods and the other is jumping out of planes.”
Chase shrugs unapologetically. “Hey, I can’t think of any better office than under the night sky where you can see the Milky Way.”
I nudge his boot with mine, “What about a fire tower for an office? Will this do for tonight?”
He sends me one of his flirtatious grins—the same kind that had me fantasizing about him during our hike yesterday, and that sent me dipping my hands under my sleeping bag last night, my body filled with need. Well, there’ll be none of that tonight. We’re all sharing one space with no tents or sleeping bags, so there’s no chance for privacy or time alone, unless I want to sleep outside.