by Karen Foley
He spread one hand. “Please.”
“Okay.” She extended a hand toward him. “I’m Callie McLain.”
She found her hand clasped warmly in his bigger one, feeling the hard calluses on his palm. “Nice to meet you, Callie. I’m Tyler Dodson.”
Callie withdrew her hand, reluctantly. “I was hoping to see you again; I wanted to thank you for what you did the other day, helping me get my dad out of there. He wasn’t cooperating, and if you hadn’t shown up when you did, I’m not sure what I would have done.” She rolled her eyes. “Well, I know what I was about to do, but it wouldn’t have been pretty.”
At his questioning look, she made a face. “I was either going to shoot him with a tranq gun, or give him a shot of a sedative that’s usually reserved for the wolves.”
Tyler gave a bark of laughter, and then winced.
“Are you okay?” Callie asked.
“Yeah, just a little scorched lung; nothing to worry about.”
Callie frowned. “Did they do any chest x-rays? Have they ruled out pulmonary edema?”
Tyler’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, and yes. What are you, a doctor?”
“I’m a veterinary physician, but I’ve treated my share of animals for smoke inhalation.” She paused. “Not that you’re an animal.”
This time there was no mistaking his wry grin. “Some might disagree.”
“How did it happen? Not trying to save my father’s property, I hope!”
He hesitated. “We were working a fire line on a steep slope, and a secondary blaze sprang up behind us. We started running ahead of it, and got an aerial assist with a slurry dump, but the entire area was filled with ash and particulate matter. It happened fast; none of us were wearing our masks, and I guess I just inhaled more than my share.”
He was getting tired, she could see that. Pushing her chair back, she stood up. “I should let you rest. Did they say when you might be released?”
“I decide that,” he responded, and Callie almost smiled.
She wondered if he realized how serious smoke inhalation could be. Sometimes, symptoms didn’t manifest until several days after the event.
“Well, it can’t hurt for you to stay here for today, at least,” she said. “I’ll check in on you before I leave. Can I bring you anything?”
“I can’t think of anything.”
“Okay, then.” She gave him a bright smile. “I guess I’ll be going, then. Get some rest.”
She turned to leave, but he reached out and caught her wrist, stopping her.
“There is one thing.”
Callie waited, aware that his fingers around her wrist were doing odd things to her heart rate.
“What?” Her voice sounded breathless.
“We did go back to the sanctuary. I’m sorry, but your house is gone.”
“And the wolves?” Callie held her breath.
“The wire fencing was still intact. We counted five wolves that survived, not sure about the other two. We found the meat locker, and threw them some food. They were pretty hungry.”
Callie’s heart leapt. Five wolves were alive! And if he and his crew were able to return to the sanctuary, then maybe she could get back there, too. It was the best possible news. On impulse, she leaned down and kissed him. It was meant for his cheek, as a gesture of thanks and gratitude, but he turned his face and her lips found his mouth, instead.
For a moment, she was too surprised to pull away. Then his mouth began to move beneath hers and she no longer wanted to. His lips were warm and surprisingly gentle, fusing with hers in a kiss so sweet Callie’s toes curled.
“Goddamn it, Dodson, I leave you alone for ten minutes, and you go all code blue on me.”
At the sound of the masculine voice, Callie jerked away, breaking the kiss, and taking two unsteady steps away from the bed.
A big, good-looking firefighter lounged against the doorframe, a Styrofoam cup of coffee in one hand and a knowing smirk on his face. “I mean, that was a lifesaving resuscitation effort I just witnessed, right? Because if it was something else, just say the word and I’ll leave. I’ll even close the door and give you both some privacy.”
Callie could feel a hot wash of color spread to the roots of her hair. “It’s okay, I was just leaving.”
She glanced at Tyler, who was holding the oxygen cap over his face and drawing on it as if he’d just run a marathon. She didn’t know whether to be insulted or flattered.
“I’ll see you later.”
The big guy in the doorway stepped aside to let her pass. “Don’t let me interrupt,” he said, grinning.
“You weren’t; I has just on my way out,” she said, and fled.
But as she walked quickly away, she heard him say, “Christ, if that’s the kind of bedside service they’re providing these days, sign me up.”
Callie couldn’t prevent a smile. As bedside service went, she knew she could do better. Much better.
*
Ace pulled up the chair Callie had recently vacated, a knowing gleam in his eye. “Tell me that wasn’t the chick from the wolf sanctuary.”
“Okay,” Tyler agreed, “I won’t.”
Now that she was gone, he could relax. He’d never felt so exposed as he did sitting there, wearing a damned johnnie, with a plastic oxygen cap over his face. Now he breathed deeply, feeling the tightness in his chest begin to ease. As Ace began relating what he’d missed at the base camp that morning, Tyler slid back down in the bed and settled himself more comfortably against the pillows.
He hadn’t known he was close to collapse following the backfire, only that he’d sucked in his share of smoke and ash. After containing the wildfire, Sam had kept half the crew back to do mop-up, and had directed Tyler and a smaller group to hike back to the sanctuary to see if anything could be salvaged, and do any required mop-up there, as well.
The sanctuary had looked just about as bad as Tyler had expected. The house had been nothing but a pile of charred timbers surrounding the fireplace, which was still standing. The concrete outbuilding had been intact, although the metal roof had warped from the intensity of the heat and the windows had blown out. Inside, everything was a ruin except for the walk-in cooler, which was virtually unscathed.
Tyler and the others had pulled out buckets of meat and tossed them into the wolf enclosures which, remarkably, were still standing. Inside the pens, the land was nothing more than blackened earth with some ghostly charred trees. But then something amazing had happened. When they’d chucked the meat into the pens, the wolves had begun to show themselves, furtive shadows that quickly darted out to grab the food and drag it away to eat.
They’d left some water out for the animals, and then scoured the property, looking for any hot spots and performing mop-up. They’d just finished, and had been heading back to the base camp when he’d found himself struggling to breathe. Really struggling. He’d barely managed to alert Vin before he’d blacked out. Stupid, really, because all the warning signs had been there. He’d just ignored them, which was exactly what he warned the newbies not to do. For a guy who was all about safety, he didn’t set much of an example.
Ace was still talking about the backfire and how they’d almost had their asses fried, but Tyler found he was no longer paying attention. Settling back, he closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift to Callie.
To that kiss.
That was why he loved his job. Because sometimes, between the bone-crushing, achingly long days of wielding a pickaxe or chainsaw in the very teeth of hell, covered in sweat and grime, feeling as if his lungs had been charred and his eyeballs roasted, he might get a kiss from a pretty woman.
And she was damned pretty.
When he’d opened his eyes to see her bending over him, he’d wondered if he was dreaming. When he’d first seen her at the sanctuary, he’d had an almost visceral response to her. He’d tried to convince himself that his immediate and powerful reaction to her had been the result of adrenaline, and the urgency of their situa
tion. But he knew he was lying to himself. His entire world had stopped for an instant, and when it had swung back into motion, everything had changed. He’d realized she was attractive, but seeing her up close, that word didn’t come close to describing Callie McLain.
She was drop-dead gorgeous and sexy as all hell.
He’d wanted to lose himself in the deep chocolate of her eyes, bury his hands in the gleaming waves of her dark hair. Her skin was smooth and creamy, except for a small beauty mark at the corner of her right eye. And then she’d kissed him with her soft, pink mouth.
Not that there weren’t plenty of women who wouldn’t be happy to kiss him. On any Friday or Saturday night, The Drop Zone pub was filled with women who went there with the single intention of going home with a firefighter. The guys at the base called them fireflies, or in the case of the smokejumping crew, jumper-humpers. Tyler had even gone home with one or two of them himself, right after Alicia had left him and he was feeling bitter and sorry for himself. But it had been over a year since he’d had a one-night stand. He wasn’t averse to hooking up once in a while, as long as the woman understood that it was just sex.
He’d had a couple of relationships, but neither had lasted more than a few months, and even those had been more casual than serious. He told himself it was for the best, since most women wanted marriage, and he’d decided long ago he wasn’t ever going to do that again. Not even if his mother had recently hinted that she’d like some grandchildren. No way was he taking the bait. Tyler had seen what marriage to a smokejumper had done to his mother, and even if she never complained, he knew there had been weeks when she lived alone, unable to sleep, wondering if Mike would come safely home. Tyler wouldn’t put any woman through that.
His only interest was to get healthy enough to return to his crew and work the fire. But if pretty Callie McClain wanted to keep him company until that time, he had no argument. But once the wildfire was suppressed, any sparks between himself and Callie would be extinguished, as well. He couldn’t see any reason to start anything with her that he had no intention of continuing with.
“Hey, you listening to me, or pretending to sleep?” Ace asked, interrupting his thoughts. In response, Tyler gave an exaggerated snore, which sent him into a paroxysm of coughing. Ace handed him a cup of water. “So what’s the story with you and the wolf-girl?”
Pulling the mask aside, Tyler cracked an eyelid and gave him a warning look. “There is no story. She’s a nice lady who just wanted to say thank you.”
Ace slanted him a sly smile. “That was a hell of a thank you.”
“Stop talking, Ace.”
Ace laughed. “Oh, man, you are in serious trouble, my friend.” Tyler didn’t open his eyes; didn’t want to give the other man any reason to rib him further. But he knew Ace was right—he was in trouble.
Chapter Seven
Callie spent several hours sitting at her father’s bedside, although she doubted he would remember. He had been moved out of the intensive care unit and into a regular room, but he was still weak and heavily medicated. He would need to spend at least another week or two in the hospital, and would then go to a rehab facility before they could send him home.
Home.
Callie hadn’t yet told her father that he no longer had a home to return to. He was so frail she feared the news might finish him. Instead, she’d told him his wolves had survived, and the firefighters had returned and provided them with food and water. He’d wept at the news, but had grown quiet when she went on to say she’d found a second sanctuary willing to take the surviving wolves, but it was in Wyoming. Callie understood the relief he must feel at knowing his wolves were safe, but when he’d begun talking about repairing the enclosures, and bringing all the wolves back, she hadn’t been able to listen. She’d kissed him, told him to rest, and had left him alone.
Realistically, she knew she’d have to break the news about the property to him, but wanted to wait until he was stronger. In some respects, the wildfire had been a blessing in disguise. With his home destroyed, her father would have no reason not to return to Monterey with her.
She’d peeked in at Tyler on her way out, but his eyes had been closed, so she hadn’t stopped. Even if he had been awake, she wasn’t certain she would have gone in. She wouldn’t have been very good company.
For as long as she could recall, her father had operated the wildlife sanctuary. She’d helped him out as a teenager not just because she’d enjoyed the work, but because she had hoped it would bring them closer, especially after her mother had left. But Frank, himself a veterinarian, hadn’t seemed to appreciate her efforts to impress him. She might have been just another volunteer for all the notice he took of her.
Even now, he didn’t seem to understand how much she was doing for him, taking time off from her own job, away from her home and friends, to ensure he was taken care of. He would have been in a rehab facility long ago if she hadn’t agreed to come out from California and take care of him. She wasn’t looking for accolades, just some acknowledgment. But some people didn’t change, and that was a reality she was finally beginning to face. Her mother had once tried to explain to her that while her father did love her, he wasn’t capable of demonstrating that, either verbally or through actions. He was emotionally limited, and Callie need to accept that he couldn’t give her what she wanted. As a doctor, Callie understood this. But as a daughter, she couldn’t help but wish things were different.
She and Randy had spent most of the night making calls to other wolf sanctuaries around the country, and Callie had been elated when a wolf rescue center in Wyoming had agreed to take the surviving wolves on a permanent basis. Once they were able to return to the sanctuary and rescue the remaining wolves, Randy would make the long, fourteen hour drive to Cheyenne, and help get the wolves settled.
She pulled the kennel truck into the campground where the fire fighting units had made their base camp near the lake. The animal rescue location was on the far side of the complex, and the town managers had arranged for Callie to stay in one of the small campground cabins while she worked with the rescued animals. For now, it was perfect for her needs, with a small living area and kitchenette, a bedroom, and a bathroom.
Callie parked the truck and climbed out, surveying the activity where the firefighters and rescue crews had set up their quarters. Pushing her hands into the pockets of her jeans, she worked her way between the tents, trailers, and trucks, stepping over enormous power cords and around generators. Firefighters were sacked out on the ground, catching some sleep beneath the shade of several canopies, while others sat in camp chairs in small circles, or stood grouped around folding tables, examining maps. Several looked up and nodded to her as she made her way past.
“Excuse me,” she said, stopping outside a tent hung with a banner that read Glacier Creek Smokejumpers.
Beneath the canopy, three men were studying a map that had been tacked to a large board, talking in low tones. Callie could see it was a topographical map of the region, and there were a dozen or more small flag pins in varying colors stuck into the map.
The men turned to look at her, their expressions a combination of polite inquiry. “Can I help you,” asked the first man.
“Yes, my name is Callie McLain. I just came from the hospital where I visited with Tyler Dodson. I understand he’s with your group?”
She didn’t miss the glances that passed between the men. As the first man stepped forward, the two other men bent their heads together, and Callie was certain she heard the words wolf-girl in their hushed exchanged. She suppressed a smile. They had no way of knowing that her nickname in high school had been wolf-girl, and sometimes she-wolf if she was having a bad day.
“I’m Captain Sam Gaskill.” The first man extended his hand to Callie. “Tyler is one of our best. How do you know each other?”
Callie was pretty sure the captain already knew how she and Tyler were acquainted, especially if his men were referring to her as wolf-girl.
“My father owns the wolf sanctuary up off the fire road,” she explained. “Tyler told me that he and some of the others went back there this morning to check on the wolves that we had to leave behind.”
Sam nodded. “That’s right.” He paused. “I’m very sorry about your house, ma’am. There wasn’t anything left when we returned. But we’re confident at least five of the wolves did survive the blaze, and we made sure they had enough food and water to last another day or so.”
“Thank you,” Callie said. “I’m so grateful to you and your men for everything you’ve done. I was wondering…is there any chance I can return to the sanctuary to extract the remaining wolves? With their habitat destroyed, and the main house gone, they can’t stay there.”
“I understand.” He gestured toward the map. “Come over here, and I’ll show you how the fire has been contained so far.”
On the map, Callie could see the fire road that wound up into the mountains, and then a smaller line that indicated the private road that led to the sanctuary. Several red and yellow flag pins marched alongside the road.
“What do these pins mean?” she asked.
“The red is where the fire is still active, and the yellow pins represent where we’ve suppressed the fire, but there still exists the potential for flames to ignite again.” He indicated her father’s property, which contained several yellow pins. “Because there’s so much forest surrounding the sanctuary, we have a layer of needles, leaves, and dry vegetation on the ground.
“We call this material duff, which can smolder for days after a fire. Moreover, because it’s burning in steep and rocky terrain, this fire is completely unpredictable. Until the crew has a chance to complete the mop-up operations, no one is going up there.”
“What if some of your crew went with me?” Callie persisted, unwilling to give up so easily. “They can do their mop-up thing, while I get the wolves rounded up and into the kennel truck. Would that work?”
The Captain shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. We’re anticipating gusty, west winds and dry conditions, which will likely push the fire to the north and east. This thing has scorched more than four thousand acres, and has transitioned to a Type 1 incident management team—the highest level of fire response. Types 1s are only called in for the most extreme situations, if that tells you anything. We have more than three hundred firefighting personnel working this fire, and it still has the potential to double in size every day that it burns.” He was immovable. “So am I going to let you head into that? No way.”