by Marina Adair
She sat back. “Since when did you become an expert on what kids think is cool?”
“Since I started volunteering at a junior search-and-rescue camp a few years back.”
Liv looked impressed, as if thinking maybe she’d been wrong about him. “What are you thinking?”
“A challenge course where families and kids work together to complete different obstacles.” He took out a pencil and began to sketch a basic map.
Liv leaned in while he was writing, resting her elbows on the other side of the desk and scooting her chair all the way forward. When he finished, he flipped it toward her.
“A log ladder, a mini rock climb, and is that a zip line?” she asked, clearly impressed. And Ford liked impressing her too damn much. “Wow, this is like those team-building camps.”
“We could do ground-based courses for the kids and higher events with harnesses for fifteen and up,” he explained. “The thrills of a carnival, only in a back-to-nature kind of way that the founders would have loved.”
Liv studied the map, her smile becoming more and more real at the idea. “It’s like our own little Wild West.” She looked up. “But wouldn’t this be a huge undertaking? Wagon Days is in three weeks, and even though I want to go big enough to make a splash, I don’t want to promise the world only to deliver a petting zoo.”
“Every spring, my department teams up with Sequoia Elite to run a junior search-and-rescue camp outside Reno for at-risk kids. We do zip-lining, obstacle courses, and team-building events. We could easily do the same thing here, right by the lake.” When she didn’t look convinced, he said, “You asked for my help—let me help you.”
Liv considered his words for so long one would think he’d asked her to a lace-only sleepover instead of offering to lend a hand at something he happened to be good at. It was going to come down to what she was more afraid of: underdelivering on the town’s expectations or letting someone new into her world.
“Help is a new concept for me,” she admitted. “But that’s what this is about, working with community officials and residents, right?” She released a breath and smiled. “How do you guys plan this course?”
Ford smiled. “Come here.”
Ford opened his browser, and the site loaded right as Liv rounded his desk. “Look at this,” he said, scooting his chair back so she could slide up to the desk, so close he could feel her body heat.
It couldn’t be helped. His office was small, overflowing with flowers and balloons, leaving little room behind the desk. Normally, Ford would have moved out and given her the chair, but she moved in so fast he didn’t have time.
“Are these pictures from the camp?” she asked.
“Yes, and all the equipment you see is owned by the department, but Sequoia Lake Lodge has everything we’d need to replicate this. We could even add in a little hiker 101 training to make the moms happy,” he said, wondering if she was reneging on the no-flirting rule, since her thigh pressed against him when she bent over to get a better look at the monitor.
He could feel her breathing change, but she didn’t move.
“It looks like it requires more than just a ton of equipment.” She reached for the mouse, their bodies pressing closer until her hair slid over his forearm. It was silky and smelled good enough to bury his face in.
But she’d said no flirting, and he’d honor that.
“Wouldn’t we need trained personnel to run it?” She tapped the screen. “This camp looks like it has one instructor to every ten kids, and we’re hoping to have hundreds of kids, all day. Do you have enough people to run that?” she asked, her face willing him to say yes, but preparing herself for the disappointment.
Ford didn’t want to be another disappointment. She was putting herself out there, getting involved, asking for help—and he wasn’t about to shut her down.
Not when she was so close he could feel her breath mix with his when she spoke.
“We’d have to create a course that required the fewest amount of department hands to run it.” Reno was just over an hour away. He could talk a few of his buddies into helping, if necessary. Plus, that’s what Harris had told him to do—get to know the lady. “And prove we have enough extra medical personnel on hand for the permits to go through.”
“I bet I can get some of the hospital staff to volunteer their time,” she said. “My boss wanted a creative way to introduce the Mobile Medic team to the community. I can’t think of a more fun and positive first impression to the families in town.” She smiled. “This might actually work.”
His desk, those lips, this insane chemistry. It could work, all right.
“One call, Liv, and you’d have everything you need.”
“Are you sure?” she whispered, her tone saying she wasn’t referring to the obstacle course anymore, but the obstacle that stood between them being friends and them being flirting friends.
She wasn’t ready. He was leaving. And he didn’t even want to think about Sam.
“Trust me.”
“Because I don’t want to get all excited only to have it blow up in my face,” she said quickly.
“Like I said, any kind of fire is out of the question,” he assured her. “But making this the best summer on record—I’m all in.”
Before he knew what was happening, Liv straightened right as Ford stood, and Bullseye—taking the commotion to mean that it was cuddle time—bolted out from his bed and underfoot.
Liv’s foot, to be exact, causing her to collide with Ford’s chest. Her one delicate hand went around his neck, and the other pressed against his chest. His hands were no better, as they slid around her waist to steady her, and Bullseye jumped up on both of them to get his group hug on.
“Leave the lady alone,” Ford said, batting Bullseye to the ground and telling himself to follow his own advice. But he noticed he still had one hand around her, spanning across her lower back, holding her to him—instead of holding her steady. Which was fitting, since there wasn’t anything steady about Ford right then.
His head was spinning and his heart thrashing. He liked being close to her.
Too much.
“Sorry,” she said softly, her voice nothing more than a whisper of breath, confirming that he wasn’t the only one having a hard time with their no-flirting rule, and her magnolias were as magnificent as he’d imagined.
Checking himself, Ford stepped back, but the damage was already done. Every one of her soft curves was now imprinted on his body, which meant he’d never have to wonder again. Only the lack of wondering led him down a different path of wonder, which included nothing but those curves in his bed.
The pathway to trouble, he told himself, unable to tear his gaze away. And because trouble was a hell of a lot more exciting than filing papers, he said, “I’m not.” And then because trouble loved company, he added, “So what time should I pick you up?”
“Pick me up?” she asked, and if she didn’t look so completely adorable, he would have laughed.
“If you want Harris to sign off on this, then we need to be strategic on what we ask for and make sure we walk the area to foresee any pitfalls.” Even though the only pitfall he could foresee at the moment was what was going to happen when she looked down and noticed that while he’d agreed to the no-flirting rule, other parts were protesting. “So when should I pick you up?”
“I guess this is where I say I’ll bring the pizza,” she said with a shy smile as she headed toward the door. Only to bump into it. “I have Sunday afternoon off, and Monday I’m working the swing shift at the hospital. Just let me know what works best for you.”
Ford was about to ask her how he should contact her, but he was too busy admiring her sweet little jiggle as she opened the door and stumbled out of his office. He took in her lithe body, the way her dress hugged her hips as she moved, and how nicely it stretched across her exceptionally toned butt.
“Woof!” Bullseye barked.
He looked down at his dog. “Like you’re one to talk.
”
CHAPTER 9
“I told you to get to know her, not ask her out on a date,” Harris said into the headset, the wind and chopper blades muffling his voice.
“It’s not a date,” Ford shouted back as Bullseye barked into the wind.
Ford was leaning backward off the side of a Super Huey, Bullseye strapped to his side in a doggy Bjorn, with only a helicopter skid and a hundred-foot rope between them and rocky terrain.
Ty was already on the ground below, and because this was a joint training with CalFire, Harris was next to Ford, hooked into his rappelling gear instead of piloting the bird, and Bullseye was harness-on goggles-down, waiting for the go. Today’s exercise was supposed to be fast roping into uneven terrain, but Harris was making it an exercise in patience.
Harris could be a whiner.
“As head of community outreach, this is what I do,” Ford added.
Harris turned his head toward Ford, and even through his aviator glasses he could clearly make out a bullshit expression. “And you’re doing it when her kid is at camp?”
“Tomorrow morning was the only day I’m in the office and she had free.”
“If you don’t stop bitching like a couple of girls and clogging the airways, I might leave you here until Monday,” Ty said, his voice booming through the earpiece.
“As the father of a girl, I resent that, since it’s always the big boys who have a hard time following instruction,” he said, even as he looked at the training coordinator for the all clear but was signaled to hold until the other team cleared the landing zone. “And as a single parent, I can also tell you that if this kid-free coed outing involves a picnic, then don’t be surprised if you show up tomorrow and she’s dressed for romance instead of recon.”
All guys who wore a department-issued uniform and gun had experience with badge bunnies—women who would do anything to marry into the lifestyle. Ford had had his fair share of flings and cons over the years, and he’d learned what to look for.
“Liv isn’t the kind of woman to use her job to get a date,” he said, confident in his assessment.
Harris gazed over the top of his aviators and looked at Ford. “Liv also hasn’t gone on a date in over a decade.” Even though Ford was sitting under a fifty-foot fan, he felt sweat bead on his forehead. “Yeah, so maybe you want to rethink your whole zip-lining outing.”
Ford was tired of rethinking. He’d been doing it for two years without finding any closure. And if helping Liv with Wagon Days got him one step closer, then he was game.
“You suggested I get to know her, and she asked me for help with something that happens to be in my job description, so I said yes,” Ford argued. “As for the zip-line request I put in, she wants to do a mini one for Wagon Days, and I thought using the department’s training course would be a fun way to help her see the different kinds of courses we can build for the kids so she can get a better idea of what would work for the event.”
“That’s it?” Harris asked skeptically.
“That’s it, man,” Ford said. “But if you’d rather I call her and cancel so I can hold your hand while you clear some of those missing-pet cases off your desk, all you need to do is ask.”
The training coordinator gave them the thumbs-up, then held up five fingers, ticking off the seconds before they began their descent.
Harris held up another finger altogether. “About those cases—you’d better focus on holding on to that rope, because if I make it down first, you’re taking those back.”
“And if I make it first?”
Harris looked at Bullseye and laughed. “Whatever you want.”
Ford thought about the stack of applicants he had to call back and grinned. He might be carrying an extra sixty pounds in dog weight, but he also had the fastest rappelling time in his county. “You’re on.” Ford looked down at Bullseye, who was panting with excitement. “It’s go time, buddy.”
The coordinator dropped his last finger, and Ford pushed back off the skid and immediately let five feet of rope slide through his right hand. He was free-falling for a second before the rope tightened, swinging him and Bullseye up underneath the body of the helo.
With a final smile at Harris, Ford released his grip and quickly started descending. The air rushed past, pushing under his shirt and making Bullseye’s tongue flap to the side.
“That better not be drool hitting my face,” he said, but he was smiling because, man, he loved this. The rush, the weightlessness, the sense of freedom while being in complete control.
When Ford was in the moment, adrenaline pumping hard, he felt invincible.
And right then, nothing could touch him. Not the past, not the future, and certainly not Harris, who was a good ten feet above him, probably wondering how the fuck that had happened. Ford knew. Because while being tethered to a dog made the initial push-off more cumbersome, once they were hanging, that additional sixty pounds equated to one hell of a ride down.
And yeah, maybe Ford was easing up on the rope more than usual, but after this week he needed a win. So he didn’t up the pressure until he was ten feet from touchdown. His feet touched solid rock, and he was unhooking Bullseye when Harris finally caught up.
Goggles and earphones off, Bullseye ran in circles, barking up a storm, excited for his reward.
“I’ve got some treats in my pocket,” one of the other K-9 officers offered, but Ford shook his head.
“He wants something else. Don’t you, boy?”
Breathing nonexistent, ears like a periscope, tail frozen, eyes locked on the tiny pink ear that was sticking out beneath Ford’s vest harness, Bullseye gave a final bark and sat at Ford’s feet.
Ford tugged Lambkins out by the ear, and Bullseye went stock-still. “Okay, here you go.”
Bullseye looked at the proffered reward and threw his head back and belted out an argumentative bark, which echoed off the rocks and drew the attention of a few of the guys.
“Fine. Close your eyes, I give one distress call, then we’re done,” Ford said, and Bullseye dropped to his belly, placing his paws over his eyes.
Ford walked around in circles, crossing back over his trail several times to increase the difficulty, and then hid Lambkins in Harris’s pack. With another crisscross of the area, Ford came back to Bullseye. Adopting the pussiest voice known to man, he said, “Help me, help me, Bullseye.”
Bullseye sprang to his feet and, sniffer to the ground, followed the exact path Ford had taken, finding his prize in the pack in seconds. With the gentleness of a mother, Bullseye picked up his baby and proudly strutted among the men.
“What the hell was that, Daisy Doolittle?” Harris asked when Bullseye sat at Ford’s feet to groom his baby.
“What?” Ford laughed. “Us kicking your ass, or the sound of the gigantic stack of volunteer applications hitting your desk?”
“Shit.” Harris looked up at the sky, breathing heavily. “I’ll make the calls, but you’re running the meet and greet.”
While Ford wasn’t all that much of a department spokesman, he enjoyed working with volunteers and their dogs. Training dogs was a challenge that got him excited, and watching them deepen the bonds with their owners was rewarding. “As long as you give me volunteers who can be trained to help with basic stuff for Wagon Days, not a problem.”
Harris studied him for a long moment. “There will be a problem if you don’t honor the single-mom code.”
“Jesus.” Ford threw his hands in the air, then looked at Ty. “Will you tell him this is not a date?”
Ty grinned. “I would, but the only reason I’m here on a Sunday morning with you losers, and not at home with my smoking-hot wife, is because she’s at Liv’s helping her pick out what to wear.”
Later that afternoon, Liv found herself back down at the hospital, arguing the merits of her idea, while Kevin shot a hole through each and every one.
“I think we need to take a step back and reevaluate the situation,” he said, and Liv was surprised at the co
nviction in Kevin’s voice. She hadn’t expected him to flat-out reject her Wild West Roundup idea.
In fact, she hadn’t even filed the permits, and already she knew she’d made a huge mistake.
She’d spent most of the weekend in the ER, fielding patients who were all suffering from different ailments but seeking the same outcome—a say in how Wagon Days was going to be run.
Once word spread that the event was under new management, people wanted face time with the newest chair. Most sought assurance that the event would reflect the town’s history—or rather, each person’s individual interpretation of the town’s history—except Chuck, the butcher.
He’d come to talk about a history of a different variety—Liv’s dating history. Which ultimately led to his idea for a “How to properly dress a hog” demonstration, with Liv as his number one assistant. But since Liv wasn’t all that big on the idea of slaughter lessons as a first date, Chuck had left with his bouquet of hand-stuffed sausages and an apology on how dating a butcher went against Liv’s recently adopted views on vegetarianism.
Now Kevin was so against her Wild West Roundup that he’d brought his concerns to Nicole. “If her new ideas for Wagon Days fall through or flop, that would be Mobile Medic’s first introduction to the community.”
“It isn’t going to fall through, and there is nothing to reevaluate,” Liv said assertively, part of her confidence coming from having someone in her corner.
She’d forgotten how that felt. Her focus as of late had been finding her footing so she could stand on her own. And she still was. Only today, she had someone standing by her side, in a sense. A sweet and sexy someone who not only made her smile, but made her feel special. And took an interest in her goals. It had been a long time since someone outside of her peers had taken the time to understand what she was trying to accomplish. For herself and her family.