Blazing with Love (The Armstrongs Book 12)

by Jessica Gray

  Jules hoped, no prayed, for the alarm to sound. It was about time the idle waiting ended and they all got to work. A nice, brutal fire would keep her from fantasizing about Tyler’s big hands roaming her body. Kissing him had been the biggest mistake of the century.

  She sighed – just a bit – as the earth-shattering sensation of his possessive mouth on hers assaulted her senses. OMG I wish I never knew just how fantastic kissing him is. Blocking out all erotic thoughts she cleaned her tools and strolled inside to organize gear in the ready room.

  “Waiting for me?” She shot around to see Tyler strolling inside, looking gorgeous in his khakis and a muscle shirt.

  “You stalking me?” She knew it was a special kind of torture, but she couldn’t stop her eyes from soaking up every last inch of his exposed skin, gleaming with a sweat. Tyler was of the best rookies she’d seen come through the program in the last five years, and if that wasn’t enough to get her panties good and wet, he was also hot…and funny…and caring…and his voice did things to her libido…

  “No,” he looked at her with the most innocent smile possible, “I wanted to follow your orders and put on my protective gear. Which happens to be in here.” He took his Kevlar suit from the hook, leaving Jules annoyed at her own stupidity. Now he’ll think I did this on purpose.

  Too caught up in scolding herself, she didn’t notice his grin broadening as he unbuckled his belt. “Wanna stay and watch?”

  She jerked from her thoughts, shaking her head violently. “You wish, rookie. But there wouldn’t be anything interesting to see, so I’m outta here.”

  “Your loss. If that epic kiss was anything to go by, we’d both immensely enjoy what happens—"

  Jules felt hot desire raging through her body and said, “Training run in five. Put on your full gear including the pack.” Then she escaped from the heated ready room. She’d make him hot and bothered all right, but not lusting after her. A satisfied smirk broke out on her face as she bumped into Kelly.

  “What’s that smirk doing on your face?” Kelly asked.

  “Training run. In five on the track.”

  “Hey… why don’t I think that’s the reason for you grinning like an evil dervish?”

  “You just wait and see.”

  Five minutes later her team assembled beside the track, everyone wearing shorts, t-shirts and running shoes, except for Tyler. The moment Kelly saw him in full outfit, she pursed her lips at Jules, and whispered, “What exactly has he done to deserve this?”

  “Lusting after me.”

  Kelly almost doubled over with laughter. “If I remember right you were the one attacking him back in the bar.”

  “We’ll do a nice and easy five-mile run, the trail up the mountain and down the other side,” she said, putting her feet into motion.

  Tyler cursed beneath his breath. The afternoon sun blazed down at him, and rivulets of sweat ran down his back, his chest, his forehead. The fifty-pound pack on his back turned every step into drudgery. He didn’t mind the extra exercise, since this would prepare him for the emergency. But he minded that everyone else rushed light-footed ahead of him, and he vowed to stay away from Jules.

  She’d shown him that despite the passion simmering in her eyes every time she watched him, she clearly wasn’t interested.

  In fact, she’d gone too far in the other direction, needlessly tormenting him. Like some kind of masochist.

  When he finally reached the mountain, he saw the rest of his crew way ahead, leisurely jogging downhill. An unknown rage took hold of him and he increased his speed, feet hammering into the ground. His heart pulsed staccato, and the sweat ran in streams as he tried to run off the frustration and the anger.

  Jeb and Blondie, absorbed in a conversation cast him shocked looks when he passed them heaving and hissing like a heavy freight train. He rolled up the field of his unsuspecting crew members from behind and reached the finish line third, dropping down like a felled tree.

  When Jules raised an eyebrow at him, as if she were expecting him to complain, he did not acknowledge her, but rolled over, got up and trotted off to his quarters.

  After taking a much-needed cool shower he sank down on his bunk, cursing the fate that had him wanting the one woman on earth who seemed immune to his charms. But since she’d taken her stand, he’d rather go without sex for the rest of his life than make another move on her.

  Intent on not dwelling in self-loathing, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed the first number in his call list.

  “Tyler, and here I thought you’d vanished from the face of the earth,” his brother Preston’s voice came over the line. “Have you even received my voicemail?”

  “Sorry, bro. I was busy.” Lusting after a woman who kisses like a sex goddess but has decided she doesn’t want me.

  “Weren’t you supposed to be finished with the hotshot training by now?” Tyler’s initial idea to tell him about Jules evaporated at the detestable undertone of sappy happiness in Preston’s voice.

  “I am. Passed the test, too. But with all the training and stuff I haven’t found the time to return your call.”

  “Stuff? Or should I rather say women? When will you finally settle down Ty?” Ever since his oldest brother had fallen in love with the fierce Italian girl Gina, he behaved like a hippie spreading the love.

  “Just one.” Tyler bit on his lip. “We don’t get out of camp often and I really was too busy to go on the prowl. How are plans for your wedding coming along?” A billionaire, Preston owned dozens of resorts and hotels across the world. One of them in Rome, where he’d met Gina and after a whirlwind affair, they’d become engaged in a matter of weeks. Gina, a tourist major, now lived with him in L.A., but travelled to Italy frequently to oversee the construction of another hotel.

  “Perfect. That’s what I wanted to talk with you about. Gina would love to get married in Rome, since her family and friends are all in Italy. So, I was wondering if you’d be able to make it across the pond?”

  “You know I wouldn’t want to miss your wedding for anything in the world, bro. But during fire season I can’t.”

  “Yeah. While Gina would love to get married today, a more realistic date would be October or November.”

  “That would be perfect. Unless the entire western United States lights up, I don’t see why I should miss it. I could fly over early to help with anything you might need.”

  Preston chuckled into the phone. “Help with what? Cozying up with the bridesmaids?”

  “Why not? Someone has to make sure the single girls are cared for and it looks like none of our brothers is up for the task.” It was true, one by one, the Armstrong siblings had fallen madly in love and turned monogamous.

  “I’ll let you know about the exact date. I’d hate to have the wedding without my baby brother,” Preston said, but Tyler was way past getting annoyed at the teasing of his older siblings. They might top him in age, but no one in his family had his level of fitness, except maybe his sister Vivian’s boyfriend Rock Martens, a former Iron Man winner.

  “Thanks, man.”

  “So, how’s the firefighting in the wilderness?”

  “Haven’t had one so far. We’re in wait mode.” Tyler shook his hurting legs. Wait mode was a peculiar description for the murderous run he’d just finished.

  “Wait mode? As in, waiting for lightning to strike and start a fire mode?”

  “Exactly.” Tyler gave a deep sigh.

  “What’s wrong? Not the job you asked for? You know, nobody would hold it against you if you returned to your job at the fire station.” Preston had been the spokesperson of his family, trying to talk Tyler out of becoming a hotshot. He’d been a firefighter for five years, and while they’d become used to him risking his life on a daily basis, they were worried about his new plans.

  Vivian – as always – had soaked up the Internet about hotshot training, requirements, workload and especially the dangers. It hadn’t helped that the same week he’d told his famil
y about his plans an entire crew of hotshots had died in a tragic wildfire accident.

  “Nothing, just tired. Just returned from a pretty tough training run.”

  “A run? Tough? Man, you’ve become weak,” Preston teased him.

  Tyler preferred not to go into details and changed the topic once again. “Almost forgot. Did you make plans for Mom’s birthday?”

  “Well, I think Gina has something cooked up but…”

  The alarm sounded, and Tyler jumped, pushing to his feet.

  “Tyler? What’s up?”

  “The alarm. Gotta go. Hear ya!” Tyler threw his phone onto the desk and rushed to the ready room to put on his Kevlar suit, for the second time today. This time for real.

  Chapter 8

  Minutes later the crew of eighteen men and two women were on the truck heading out to the first fire in the season. It was about one-hour drive away and didn’t require air support to get them situated.

  Jules disembarked with her crew at the drop off point, and she waved goodbye to their driver. From here on out, they’d be on their own. For how long, God only knew. It could be twelve hours, or twelve days.

  They carried enough provisions for several days, and from there, they’d receive additional supplies via airdrop, if necessary. She really hoped they wouldn’t be. She liked the first fire of the season to be a small and easy one to get everyone back into form. But since fires tended not to do what was expected of them, they’d have to wait and see.

  “Okay, guys. Gather round here. We’ll walk down her flank, cutting firelines in teams of two.” She assigned them in pairs to the two squad leaders until only Tyler remained. She’d wanted to assign him to someone else, anyone, just to get him out of her hair, but professionalism won over. Since he was one of the fastest runners, she’d need him with her. “Tyler, you come with me. We have to march up to the head.” She tucked in her radio and glanced at every single member of her crew. The faces of the rookies expressed a flurry of emotions, while the old-timers tried to play it cool.

  But Jules knew from own experience that the first fire of the season was something special. It could make or break a season. If the first fire went well, people tended to be more upbeat and positive throughout.

  “Everyone hang on tight to your provisions. Good luck,” she said, marching off and signaling for Tyler to follow her. She regretted being so mean to him in the morning. It wasn’t his fault that her insides blazed up like dry chaparral whenever his dark blue eyes lazily appreciated her body. The satisfaction of seeing him suffer had been surprisingly small and instead a nasty feeling of guilt had gripped her.

  They dispersed, everyone concentrating on the task at hand. She and Tyler walked up to the fire head, her brain making overtime thinking about the best ways to contain it. Just when she thought she’d found the perfect strategy, the wind changed and unleashed a flurry of smoke filled air, depositing ash on their heads and shoulders as it fluttered to the ground.

  The fire roared and bellowed, a threatening sound getting louder by the moment. A rush of heat seared over her, singed her face, pushed down her throat deep into her lungs.

  “Get out into the black, now!” she yelled at Tyler and dashed into the burned area. Even through her Kevlar suit and protective boots, she sensed the heat on the ground and coughed at the smoke lingering in the air.

  “Why did we just do this?” Tyler asked, kicking out fire spots with his boots, digging up charred earth with his Pulaski to throw atop smoldering embers.

  “Keep one foot in the black and you’ll always come back,” she grinned and recited a hotshot saying.

  Tyler nodded with understanding. “I guess, once it’s burned it’s not likely to burn again.”

  “Right rookie, come on. We’ve got work to do.” She circled the head of the fire, digging, hacking, slicing, and stomping until they returned to their mates on the other flank.

  “Hey Jules, there’s a creek about two hundred yards down,” Castor shouted over the crackling fire and she nodded to see that he’d already assigned some of his team to assemble the mobile pumps.

  Water sprayed the earth and plants, drenching the soil in an attempt to stop the very hungry beast from devouring more and more.

  “Good. Tyler, you stay with Castor’s team and slice down snags with your chainsaw. Don’t let her get more fuel.”

  “Aye,” Tyler answered and swung his saw. Back at base, she’d seen the hurt in his eyes. If he was still pissed at her, he didn’t let on. She allowed herself the luxury of watching him wield the saw for ten or twenty seconds. It was like watching an artist using his paintbrush to produce a masterpiece.

  “I’m off to the other team, we’ll meet up further north,” Jules instructed Castor and jogged off along the freshly cut fireline. The weather had been uncommonly warm and dry this year and the entire parched mountain was like one tinder box just waiting to flare up.

  Jules reached the other half of her team on the opposite flank and found them fanned out, digging, cutting and sawing like maniacs. She joined their ranks, gulping down half a bottle of hot water, ignoring her raw, blistered hands. It would only get worse once the blisters tore open.

  The ever-thickening smoke made breathing difficult. She sidled up with Blondie. “Everything alright?”

  “Sure.” The small woman hacked at the earth like two men and looked at her for only a moment between two blows. Her eyes were reddened from the smoke, soot mixed with sweat running down her face. A strand of blond hair peeped out from under the yellow helmet, reminiscent of a distant life, away from the burning fire.

  “You need a break?” Jules asked her.

  “No.” Blondie focused on her Pulaski, intensifying her efforts to scrape a path down to the bare ground.

  “Good.” Jules fell in pace beside her, feeling the brutal effort on her forearms, shoulders, and lower back. Hours flashed by digging a fireline, cutting trees and clearing brush, before she stretched out to give the signal for a short break. Grateful sooty faces looked at her, cramming energy bars into their mouths and gulping them down with vapid hot water from their bottles.

  The wind shifted again, blowing back toward the fire, shooting up high towers of flames. The fire continued to play with them, shifting direction every few minutes, threatening to jump across the fireline.

  The feisty blaze choked them on the smoke one minute and made their eyes water, giving them a clear vision of the burning monster that consumed everything in its path with the next breath.

  Jules yelled out instructions and checked up on the other team via the radio. Castor reported good progress – definitely better than what they were doing here. They had the disadvantage of not having a water source nearby, so all they could do was dig and saw.

  Sixteen hours after the alarm had sounded, the hotshot crew had managed to cage the fire in. She wasn’t defeated yet, but tired – as tired as the firefighters. Jules considered sooty faces with bleary eyes, red from smoke and exhaustion.

  “Let’s call it a day,” she shouted at them. Their sagged shoulders straightened again with the prospect of food and sleep. When her glance fell on Tyler, another wave of guilt hit her. Despite the tiredness visible in his every move, he continued swinging his tools relentlessly.

  When she gave the command to bunk down at a safe distance from the fire, he stretched his back and emptied his water bottle, but didn’t make eye contact with her. So he is pissed, she thought.

  Their temporary camp was well behind the fireline they’d created, and another natural fire break provided courtesy of Mother Nature. She counted the team, checked up on injuries, bandaged blisters, cleaned minor burns and disinfected scratches. Then she planned the actions for the next day with her two squad leaders Castor and Troy, while everyone else wolfed down their MRE meals and passed out between the ashes. Nobody had bothered to walk the few hundred yards to a small creek and at least wash their faces. Maybe after some much needed sleep.

  Or maybe not.

&nb
sp; The fire still roared in the distance.

  “We should keep watch,” Troy said.

  “I’ll take the first shift.” Jules opened her MRE pack Beef Teriyaki, downing it with an entire bottle of water.

  “No, you won’t. You’ll get some sleep. We need you alert come morning,” Castor said. Despite her protest, the two men insisted they’d assign one-hour shifts to the crew to keep an eye on the fire, so they wouldn’t be caught unawares.

  She crawled into her makeshift shelter, closed her eyes and instantly fell into an exhausted sleep. She’d get about five hours shut-eye at the most, but years of training kicked in and she knew she’d awake in the morning refreshed and ready for another grueling day of cutting down trees and digging trenches.

  Her last thought as she drifted off to sleep, was hope the rookies on her team would be able to put aside their physical aches and pains come morning and get right back to work. They may have passed a physical test a few days back, but this was where it really counted. This was the real test, and failure to pass this one might cost one their life.

  Chapter 9

  Tyler passed out cold the moment his head hit the sleeping bag. When Gunner woke him just before dawn to relieve him on watch duty, it took him a few moments to register where he was. He finally managed to roll over and scooted out of his shelter, stiff and sore.

  “Get another dose of sleep,” he called after Gunner, but his friend had already dropped like the dead onto his sleeping bag and started snoring like a grizzly bear.

  Tyler flopped onto his back, listening to the silence hover over their camp, the distant crackling of the fire, only disrupted by the sound of a collapsing tree every now and then. The sunrise in the east competed for the orange and golden glows with the fire raging in the west. It was a beautiful, yet deadly spectacle.