by Pamela Clare
Slow Burn
A Colorado High Country Novel
Pamela Clare
www.pamelaclare.com
Contents
Slow Burn
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
Thank You
Author’s Note
About the Author
Also by Pamela Clare
Published by Pamela Clare, 2016
Cover Design by © Carrie Divine/Seductive Designs
Photo copyright © avmedved (Andrei Medvedev)/Depositphotos.com
Photo copyright © Hot Damn Stock
Copyright © 2016 by Pamela Clare
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic format without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials by violating the author’s rights. No one should be expected to work for free. If you support the arts and enjoy literature, do not participate in illegal file-sharing.
ISBN-10: 0-9903771-7-2
ISBN-13: 978-0-9903771-7-7
ISBN: 978-0-9903771-7-7
This book is dedicated to Colorado’s first responders, who take on the dangers of the mountains to keep us all safe. You saved my life once. Thank you for that and for all you do.
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to Michelle White, Jackie Turner, Shell Ryan, and Benjamin Alexander for their support while I wrote this book.
Special thanks to Rick Dirr, chief of the Nederland Fire Protection District, for generously giving of his time and experience. I learned so much from him. I couldn’t have written this book without his insights and his willingness to answer questions. Any mistakes in this work are my own.
Additional thanks to Benjamin Alexander for his insights as a county seasonal ranger and filmmaker; to Reid Miller, for helping me understand more about the work of EMTs and paramedics; to Jana Reffel for her help with the Colorado casino scene and blackjack; and to author Julie James for answering questions about Chicago.
Personal thanks to Chris Wu, who is like a son to me, and Lisa Marrs for including me in their lovely wedding ceremony, which inspired parts of the wedding in this story.
Last but not least, thanks to the many readers who wrote to me, messaged me, tweeted me, and otherwise got in touch, asking when you’d get Hawke’s book. Here it is!
Prologue
June 23
Denver, Colorado
Eric Hawke parked his blue Ford F-150 on the upper level of the parking garage at Denver International Airport, and then looked up Vic Woodley’s flight info on his smartphone. He glanced at his watch.
Shit.
The guy’s flight had landed thirty minutes early.
Eric grabbed the little cardboard sign he’d made, climbed out of his truck, and moved in long strides toward the terminal, the late afternoon heat stifling.
Well, he couldn’t have gotten here any sooner. Traffic coming down the canyon had sucked, and it had only gotten worse when he’d hit Highway 36. Besides, picking this Woodley guy up hadn’t been on his list of things to do this morning. He wished Woodley would mind his own business and fly back to Chicago. From what Taylor had told Eric, the bastard was here to convince Lexi to leave Scarlet Springs and Taylor behind and return to Illinois with him.
Yeah? Well, let him try.
Austin Taylor had been Eric’s best friend since preschool, and Lexi Jewell was the woman Taylor had loved since he was seventeen. Eric wasn’t about to stand by while some slick, big-city hipster dude tried to convince Lexi that staying with Austin was wrong for her. She and Austin were crazy in love, and they’d been through too damned much to put up with more bullshit.
Eric was only picking the guy up as a favor to the two of them. They were still dealing with the aftermath of Lexi’s near-death ordeal. Lexi couldn’t drive because of her broken leg, and Taylor couldn’t pick Woodley up because he was taking Lexi to a follow-up visit with her orthopedic surgeon. Eric had offered to dump Woodley in a ditch somewhere, but Taylor had been against the idea. In fact, he’d seemed awfully chill about the thought of another man coming to visit Lexi.
“I can handle the competition,” he’d said. “Besides, if Lexi stays in Scarlet, it needs to be because she wants to live here, not because we murdered her friend.”
Okay, so Taylor had a point.
Eric stepped into the crowded terminal, air conditioning blasting him, bringing relief from the heat. He glanced around, fairly certain Woodley would have made his way to baggage claim by now.
How was Eric supposed to recognize the guy?
He had planned to stand at the top of the escalator in the main lobby holding the little cardboard sign with Woodley’s name on it so that all new arrivals would have to pass by him. Woodley would have seen his name, and that would have been it. Nice and easy. But now Woodley could be anywhere—sipping chardonnay in a restaurant, getting his nails buffed, waiting for his baggage.
Ah, hell.
Eric walked over to a white service telephone, dialed Paging Services, and asked the woman who answered to page Vic Woodley. She told him the airport had switched to a visual paging system and said his page would be visible within the next five minutes.
Left with nothing to do but wait, Eric ended the call and headed down the center hallway toward the coffee shop in the lobby. He’d spent most of the day working a controlled burn and was thirsty enough to drink a water tender dry. He hadn’t even had time to take a shower or put on a clean T-shirt and probably reeked of sweat and smoke.
He reached into his back pocket for his wallet—and then he saw her.
Whoa.
She entered the coffee shop ahead of him, pulling two blue suitcases behind her, one strapped to the other. Her thick, dark hair fell in soft layers to below her shoulders, a short black tank dress hugging her curves, strappy black heels clicking on the stone tiles. He walked to the cooler, grabbed a bottle of water, and then got in line, watching as she tried to decide which flavor of bottled iced tea she wanted. Finally, she made up her mind and maneuvered her way through the shop to stand in line behind him.
God, he could smell her, the sweet scent of her skin and the faint musk of her perfume warming his blood.
He turned to the side and looked over his shoulder toward the lobby as if searching for someone. He looked down and found the woman’s gaze right where he wanted it—fixed on the Scarlet Springs Fire Department logo on his T-shirt. She had a sweet face. Long lashes, high cheekbones, flawless skin. Her nose was small and slightly upturned at the tip, her lips full and covered with shiny gloss.
She looked up at him through big brown eyes, then leaned in as if to tell him a secret, those lips slowly curving into a smile. “Firemen are my favorite color.”
Her flirty
words hit him right in the solar plexus.
Jesus!
His brain must have shorted out because all he could say was, “Yeah?”
“What’s your name?”
He’d left his name pin and badge in his truck. “Eric. What’s yours?”
“Victoria.”
“I like it.” A classy name for a classy female.
“Can I help who’s next?” a voice said.
Eric turned to find the kid at the cash register—a barista with dyed black hair and black plugs in his earlobes—waiting for him to step up to the counter and pay. He closed the distance with a single stride, set the bottle down, and took a five out of his wallet. “Just the water.”
“That’ll be four dollars and four cents.”
It was a sign of how distracted he was that he didn’t complain about the price.
He twisted the bottle open and drank, while the kid with the earlobe plugs counted out ninety-six cents in change. “Thanks.”
He shoved the change into his pocket and left the coffee shop, stopping just outside the door. Victoria would come over to him. He knew she would.
He raised the bottle to his lips again, finishing it off with big gulps.
From behind him came the clicking of heels and the scrape of suitcase wheels.
“Thirsty?” She stood beside him, iced tea in hand.
He nodded, wishing he’d bought two bottles of water or maybe four. “I spent most of the day working a controlled burn.”
She opened her tea, smiled up at him. “I can smell the smoke.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I’m picking someone up for a friend and didn’t have time to shower or change.”
“Oh, don’t apologize. I like it.”
Holy shit.
Eric wished he could forget about Woodley and take Victoria out for a drink—and maybe something more. In his line of work, the only relationships he had time for were the casual kind. Still, hooking up with someone he’d met two minutes ago would be fast, even for him. It wasn’t going to happen—not in the middle of the airport with Woodley waiting for him somewhere. Besides, he knew nothing about Victoria—where she was going, where she was from, whether she was in a relationship.
He motioned toward one of the nearby tables. “You want to sit for a minute?”
It wouldn’t kill Woodley to wait another ten minutes.
“Sure.” She glanced at her watch.
“Waiting for your boyfriend?” Eric had to know.
Her little laugh told him she saw right through his question. “I’m not attached.”
Wasn’t it just Eric’s luck? She was beautiful, available, and completely beyond his reach at the moment. Unless she was staying here in Denver…
They walked over to a vacant table and sat.
He tried not to be Captain Obvious. “So are you coming or going?”
“I’m coming.”
The word lingered in the air between them for a moment, and Eric could tell by the flash of color in her cheeks that her mind had latched onto the double entendre just like his had. An image of her lying beneath him, lost in bliss, flashed across his mind, the thought sending a surge of raw lust through him.
Oh, didn’t he wish.
Victoria Woodley felt her cheeks burn. She could see in Eric’s blue eyes exactly where his mind had gone. Her mind had gone to the same place. She wasn’t into casual hookups, but in his case, she might be willing to make an exception.
Good freaking grief!
Lexi hadn’t exaggerated when she’d said the men in Colorado were hot.
Well over six feet with thick brown hair, Eric had a rugged outdoorsy vibe she liked. She could see the outline of his pecs through his T-shirt and was willing to bet they came with a six-pack. His biceps, forearms, and even his hands were muscular and so much bigger than her own.
If what they said about the size of a man’s hands was true…
Belly flutters.
“You said you came to pick someone up?” She willed herself to quit undressing him with her mind and focus on his face, but even his face was sexy. His brown hair hadn’t been cut recently and had a tousled look, as if he’d brushed it out of his eyes with his fingers. His eyebrows were dark slashes against tanned skin, his square jaw covered by a growth of stubble. Long lashes, a full mouth, and a dimple in his chin softened his masculine features. And he was a freaking firefighter.
Some men had it all.
She’d always had a thing for firefighters, but she’d never been this close to one, much less sat down to have a conversation with one.
“Yeah. I’ve never met him. I think he’s here to try to break up my best friend and his girlfriend. I offered to dump him in a ditch, but my friend wouldn’t go for it.” The grin on his face told her he’d been joking—mostly. “He would have come to pick the jerk up himself, but his girlfriend was almost killed last Sunday, and he’s taking her to a checkup with the surgeon.”
“What happened?”
“A fugitive took her hostage, dragged her into a mine shaft, and the shaft collapsed. The bastard who kidnapped her died and almost took her with him. We were able to get her out, but she has a fractured tibia.”
Vic stared at the man across from her, his story one she already knew. Anger made her face burn. “What’s the name of the guy you’re supposed to pick up?”
He held up a cardboard sign that read, “Vic Woodley.”
She found herself on her feet. “That’s my name.”
He gaped at her, astonishment on his face. “You’re … ?”
“Lexi Jewell is my best friend.”
A look of understanding crossed his face, followed by an angry frown. He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “Taylor, you bastard.”
“I’ll catch a cab.” She took hold of her suitcase handle, turned toward the door, and hurried toward the sign with the taxi on it.
He caught up with her in a single stride. “Victoria, hey, I’m sorry. It was a misunderstanding. My buddy let me believe you were a guy.”
“Yeah, I figured that part out for myself.” But that wasn’t the problem.
She stepped through the automatic doors, dry heat hitting her in the face.
Eric followed her to the curb. “It’s an hour and a half to Scarlet Springs. Do you have any idea how much a cab will cost?”
She hadn’t realized it was that far. Still, she wasn’t going anywhere with him, not if he was the kind of man who would try to manipulate Lexi. He didn’t really want her here. “That’s okay. I can afford it.”
She’d been born with more money than she could ever spend.
She stepped out to the curb to hail a cab—only to see that there were no cabs. She turned to look the other way and found herself looking at Eric’s chest.
“Come on, Victoria. You can’t be that angry with me. It was a simple misunderstanding.”
“You think I’m angry because you thought I was a guy?” She bent to the side to see, his broad shoulders blocking her view.
No taxis there either.
What did it take to get a cab in this state?
Eric’s eyes were hidden behind mirrored aviator-style sunglasses now, but there was a slight grin on his face, as if he found all of this amusing. “I wasn’t serious about dumping you in a ditch, you know. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Men could be such idiots.
“Before she came to Colorado, Lexi made me promise that I wouldn’t let her get stuck in Scarlet Springs. She’s my best friend. She tells me everything. I know how much she hates it here.”
“I get it. You came to keep your promise.”
“You’re afraid that spending time with me will remind Lexi how much she loves her life in Chicago, and you and Austin wanted to keep me away from her. That’s manipulative and just plain wrong.”
His smile vanished. “I was joking. You know, a joke? If you think Austin or I can make Lexi do anything she doesn’t want to do, you don’t know her as well as you sa
y. Whether she stays or goes is up to her. Austin won’t stop her, and neither will I. But I’ll admit that I wasn’t excited about you coming here. Lexi has been through enough. She doesn’t need you making things more complicated.”
He turned and started to cross the street toward the parking garage.
Vic stood there in the heat, the glare of the sun almost blinding. She glanced left and right. Still no taxis.
Well, hell.
She called after him. “You’re just going to leave me here?”
He stopped, looked over his shoulder. “I thought you were going to take a cab.”
“Do you see any cabs?”
He turned and strode back to her, reaching for her luggage.
“I can manage.”
A muscle clenched in his jaw. “Fine by me.”
Vic followed him, dragging her suitcases behind her, her temper as hot as the air. Okay, so maybe she had been planning on campaigning pretty hard for Chicago—the tickets she’d bought for the Adele concert, Taste of Chicago, shopping on Oak Street, the beach, Lou Malnati’s deep-dish pizza. But she knew Lexi would be turning her back on so many things she loved if she stayed in Scarlet Springs. What were best friends for if not to keep you from making a big, fat mistake?
Vic followed Eric until they came to a blue pickup with a handful of bumper stickers on the back.
Support Search & Rescue. Get Lost.
Climbing: It rips the screams from your throat.
Firemen find ’em hot and leave ’em wet.
Someone certainly had a high opinion of himself.
“You advertise your prowess on bumper stickers?”
“Bumper stickers? I put them on my truck because I think they’re funny, not because I’m advertising.”
“I’m surprised you don’t have one that just says, ‘Hey, I’m a fireman. Want to play with my hose?’”