Scorch

by Dani Collins

  Half-smothered under his shelter, he listened to the planes and helicopters, but had no way to signal them. Even if the sun had been out and he had been able to catch a reflection, the smoke was so thick the chances were low it would have been seen. All he could do was wait for the fire to burn out around him.

  And think of Jacqui.

  He wished they’d started a baby last night. No. Then she would have to raise it alone. But imagine what an incredible mother she’d make. Yeah, he would love to make a baby with her. Why had he hesitated? He’d never really known what kind of father he’d make, but he grew pretty emotional, lying there, imagining Jacqui holding their baby and smiling.

  He kept hearing her say, “I’m trying to give you what you want. You can’t say it’s bad luck if you refuse to accept it.”

  He didn’t have a lot of religion, but he was putting big faith in Jacqui right now. He’d dug a trench to pool the creek—exactly the sort of diversion of a waterway that the environmentalists got their shit in a knot over. The creek probably only ran for a month each spring, but it would be habitat to spotted tadpoles or something and his attempt to save his life by damming it and popping a shelter across it would be held responsible for the next ice age.

  He didn’t care.

  He was doing everything he could to get back to Jacqui.

  She’d probably leave him for scaring the hell out of her like this, but he was fighting one last time for a chance at something good.

  Please let it happen.

  Just this once. Please.

  *

  Jacqui heard the low rumble of voices rising in attention, then excitement, and finally a shout of triumph.

  It had to mean Vin had been found alive, but she still held her breath.

  “He’s alive!” Miranda said, ear cocked so she could hear the radio she wore over the shouts from around the camp. “They’re dropping a long line for him.”

  The camp was next to the logging road on the bottom of the burn out, pretty much where Vin and his crew had started working this morning. Dusk was starting to gather, but it was still light enough to easily see the speck growing darker against the smoky backdrop of the sky.

  Beneath it, a smaller speck began to materialize—Vin, dangling like a spider off a thread suspended from the bottom of the helicopter.

  It seemed to take hours from that moment until the helicopter was above them, churning ash and smoke into a dry cloud around them, gently, gently lowering until a couple of men were able to grab Vin and help him unhook.

  Finally his feet were on the ground and the helicopter wheeled away. He limped forward as another cheer went up.

  He was hardly recognizable, not just sooty, but caked in mud with pine needles and other debris clinging to his wet clothes. His face was just two blinking eyes in a dark mask searching the crowd condensing around him. He was looking for her, she realized, when he froze at finally spotting her.

  She ran pell-mell at him and threw her arms around his neck, clinging hard, tasting dirt when he kissed her, but not caring.

  “You jerk!” she said when she drew back.

  A ripple of laughter went through their audience, especially when she tried to find her feet and he kept hold of her, feet dangling, arms like an iron band pinning her to his padded form.

  “Hey. I didn’t give up.” He said it like he was admonishing her. “I knew that’d be way more unforgivable in your eyes than getting myself into trouble in the first place.”

  She wanted to smile, but her lips were quivering and her eyes stung.

  “Also, I love you,” he stated, blue gaze meeting hers with intensity. “Life is short and I couldn’t quit before our time.”

  “Oh, Vin.” She didn’t know how he held onto her when she melted into liquid reverence right there in his arms.

  “I should have said that before I left,” he added in a voice growled by emotion. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

  She wanted to cry and strangle him and refuse to love him if he kept doing this stupid job, but she only hugged him again, finally touching earth after another passionate kiss.

  His arm settled heavily across her shoulders as they made their way to the triage tent. “Good news is, I’ll have a couple of weeks off. My ankle is sprained all to hell.”

  “Screw that, Kingston. You can still sew,” Ace said, offering Vin a towel.

  Jacqui picked up the end of it and wiped the mud off her own face and hands.

  “For what it’s worth,” Dodson said as he brought Vin a bottle of water, taking in both of them with a bounce of his gaze, “I think Russ would approve.”

  Jacqui appreciated the sentiment, but she didn’t really care what Russ or anyone else might think. Russ had been her first love. Her crush on him had worked her heart hard so it could be big enough and strong enough for this love. Adult love. The kind that wasn’t fragile, but withstood tests.

  She swallowed, probably reflecting all of that love like a dwarf sun as she gazed up at Vin, but she didn’t care who saw.

  Everyone seemed more concerned for Vin anyway, lots of people needing to come shake his hand, check his ankle, bump his fist. Finally, they were told to head back to the base in the next helicopter flying that direction.

  “Russ loved you,” Vin said while they were waiting for Miranda to finish her preflight. “I know he did. Maybe not the way I love you…”

  She bit her lips, tucking her chin. “Do you really mean it? Your love, I mean. That’s the one that’s important to me now.”

  He slanted a look down at her, solemn. “I was in a pretty tight spot, Jac. I thought it might be over. All I wanted was to get back to you. I made it happen. What is the point of living if you’re not going to fight for what you want? Right?”

  “What exactly do you want?” She leaned into his solid frame.

  “You,” he said promptly. “In my house.” He grinned, teeth seeming extra white against his still dirty face. His blue eyes twinkled as he added, “With my baby.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Oh, yeah.” He cuddled her closer into his side. “What do you want?”

  She swiped her hand down the damp, gritty patch that had just smeared the side of her face from the shoulder of his gear. “For you to shower and put on clean clothes.”

  He chuckled and leaned down to say, “How about we meet in the middle? Shower together and hold off on the clothes?”

  “We do have a record to break, don’t we?”

  Epilogue

  April, the following year

  Vin was in Sam’s office, going over the new batch of rookie applications, when Jacqui headed back to her desk from the ladies’ room. The door was open, so she went in and set her hand on Vin’s shoulder.

  He clasped it and looked up at her, maybe caught the whiff of toothpaste because he grew concerned. “Okay?” he murmured.

  She shrugged in a silent, Fine. What can you do?

  “Morning, Jac,” Sam said absently, then frowned at her. “I just told Vin it looked like you two got some sun when you were away last week, but you’re still pretty pale. Where were you?”

  “Vin didn’t tell you?”

  Sam shook his head.

  Vin opened his hand and picked up Jacqui’s left hand off his shoulder, where a band had been added beneath the sparkler he’d quietly put there mid-season last year.

  “Vegas, baby,” Vin said.

  “You eloped?”

  “My dad and stepsister met us in Vegas, but yeah. It was just us most of the week, lying by the pool. Weather was really nice actually.”

  “Congratulations,” Sam said, smiling and standing to shake Vin’s hand. “Just do me a favor and don’t sideline my right-hand woman with a—Oh, damn. That’s why you’re looking so pale, isn’t it?”

  He sent a disgusted look at Vin who didn’t even bother looking sheepish, just proud and quietly ecstatic, like her.

  Sam sighed, hands on his hips. “I’m happy for you, I really am, but I’m going
to need some time. Maybe a fresh box of tissues. You’ve ruined my day, Jacqui. Probably my week. Wait. You will be here this season, won’t you? What about next year?”

  She grinned at what almost sounded like panic. Sam was completely capable of running the base without her, and could even train her replacement without too many hiccups now that he knew all the systems so well, but she loved how he made her feel like he couldn’t get by without her.

  “I’m due in November. My checkups have been totally normal so I should be able to work through this season without any problems and very likely be ready to come back by next season at least part-time if not full-on.”

  Sam nodded, shoulders relaxing, then transferred his gaze to Vin in the way men did when more important topics had to be addressed. “I guess I’ll run this betting pool?”

  Jacqui rolled her eyes. “You guys decide that while I go do some actual work.” She headed back to her desk.

  When Vin came out of Sam’s office a few minutes later, he leaned on her desk.

  “Thinking about me?” He teased.

  She gave him a direct look and let the latent lust she always felt toward him come to the fore and show in her eyes. “Always.”

  “Damn it, I never win that one.” He straightened and hitched the waistband of his jeans, glanced around to see if anyone was catching him growing wood in the office. “Listen, I promised Dodson I’d go on an overnight hike with him this weekend. You mind?”

  “No. You know the rule. Tell me you love me and always come back.”

  “I do,” he assured her with deep sincerity as he set a hand behind her neck and leaned across to plant a warm kiss on her upturned lips. “I will,” he promised.

  And he did. Every time.

  The End

  The Firefighters of Montana

  Book 1: Smolder by Tracy Solheim

  Buy Now!

  Book 2: Scorch by Dani Collins

  Book 3: Ignite by Nicole Helm

  Buy Now!

  Book 4: Heat by Karen Foley

  Buy Now!

  Book 5: Flame by Victoria Purman

  Buy Now!

  Enjoy an exclusive excerpt from book 3 in the Firefighters of Montana series

  Ignite

  Copyright © 2016 Nicole Helm

  Lina McArthur studied the screen of her rolling computer station, noting the patient’s information before entering the exam room. It hadn’t been a particularly busy day in the ER—late afternoon rarely was, here. Considering she’d come from the tiny town of Marietta, Montana, Kalispell was something of a change. Sure it wasn’t New York City, but it was still busier than she had been used to during her residency with Marietta Regional.

  Possible concussion wasn’t exactly a gunshot wound, but it was nice to be here, to work somewhere that was outside the sphere of her father’s influence. She’d only been with Kalispell Regional for a month now, but living on her own, being out of the McArthur spotlight in Marietta, it was everything she’d dreamed it could be.

  She stepped fully into the exam room to find a large man sprawled out on the exam table. He was wearing pants that had large tear down the side, which revealed a long if not terribly deep scratch. The pants and the loose fitting T-shirt he wore were covered in a streaky black substance that appeared to be smoke or soot of some kind.

  He had black smudges on his face as well, though mostly at his hairline and under his stubbled jaw. Someone had cleaned and bandaged the scrapes across his cheek, but the nurse had informed her that he didn’t need any stitches.

  “Mr.…” She wasn’t sure why she paused over the last name. It was a very common one and just because it happened to be the last name of her best friend didn’t mean anything. She’d just been thinking about home and Marietta, and Jess was one of the few things she missed.

  Besides, the brother Jess was looking for might have the last name Clark, but his first name was not Ace like this gentleman’s. It was a coincidence and silly to think otherwise.

  If there was one thing Lina McArthur was not, it was silly. “Mr. Clark. I see you took a little bit of a tumble. Can you tell me what happened?”

  “You mean the same story that I already told the nurses? Each and every one who came in and asked me the same damn question?” His voice was deep and edged with total irritation.

  “It’s important that we all get our story straight,” Lina replied, doing her best to keep her tone equitable. The hardest part of being a doctor for her was bedside manner. Especially being in the ER where people tended to take out their fear and nervousness on her. But she hadn’t made it through med school and residency in a hospital dominated by her larger-than-life father without learning how to plaster on a fake smile. “If you could just explain to me what happened and where you’re hurt.”

  “This is so unbelievable,” he grumbled, sitting up straighter in the bed and glaring at her with a sharp, blue gaze.

  Blue eyes, just like Jess. And half the rest of the population, idiot. “Mr—”

  “Listen, lady, I have better things to do than sit in the ER telling a million people the same story. I was hurt. As I can walk, see, and think, I’ve deduced that I’m fine. No medical degree needed.”

  Surly, her absolute least favorite type of patient to deal with. Probably because she’d be the same if the situations were reversed. She hated repeating herself, hated waiting. Patience was not her virtue.

  It didn’t appear to be this man’s either. Though he didn’t fidget, his blue eyes were nearly vibrating with a kind of restless irritation. His jet black hair was unruly, though not too terribly long.

  He didn’t even look a thing like Jess, why did she keep wondering over his last name? It would be too crazy of a coincidence.

  Besides, he’s hot.

  Neither here nor there, brain.

  “I’m sorry that you’re frustrated, Mr. Clark,” she said in the most cheerful voice she could muster. “But this is procedure, and the sooner you cooperate the sooner we can release you. Now, please explain to me what happened.”

  “I’m a smoke jumper,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

  His arms were also streaked with black—smoke apparently. They were also…yum.

  Argh. No. No thinking patients were hot.

  “Small fire and I got caught up in the wrong wind. My chute got twisted and I landed hard, hitting my head on a tree. I’m a little banged up and apparently I lost consciousness for a second or two, but obviously I’m fine.” He swept a hand down the front of himself.

  She didn’t allow herself to peruse. Oh, yes, he is fine. “How long were you out?”

  “I’m not sure. The guys said a couple seconds. But the medic checked—”

  “Obviously, the medic thought you should come to the ER. Have you had vomiting, nausea, change in vision?”

  “Why don’t you ask the eight hundred people who came before who’ve already asked me that, lady?”

  “Doctor. I am a doctor. Right now I am your doctor. So, stop calling me lady.” Once she said the words, she winced. She wasn’t supposed to snap but, oh, how she hated to be called lady or girlie.

  His gaze sharpened, but his mouth, which had been screwed into a scowl since she walked in, curved upward. It was surprisingly potent, his smile. And she didn’t trust it all.

  “Pack a little bit of a punch for such a tiny package, don’t you, doc?”

  “I’m not a package,” she replied, curling her fingers around the edges of her computer cart. “And I don’t pack any punch. I am a doctor.”

  He sat up on the exam table, looking her over with a certain kind of…interest. Interest that made her feel very nearly jittery. Nervous. She’d never cared to feel either. Especially in the presence of a man who clearly thought she was something he could play with.

  Lina McArthur was not toyed with. She scowled as she realized the voice in her head sounded far too much like her own father to make her comfortable.

  Of course, that had always been b
ecause of who her father was, who her family was—the not being toyed with. While some people at this hospital knew of her father’s stellar medical reputation, his influence didn’t quite reach here. She’d been treated differently since moving here in that she hadn’t been treated differently at all, and it was nice to blend in. To not feel like she had to live up to the McArthur name.

  But that didn’t make men any easier. They were still as baffling as they always were. She slumped a little behind her cart, typing his explanation into the computer. “I’m going to examine the bump.”

  “Are you now?”

  She kind of wanted to stutter at the lazy way he drawled that, but she schooled her tongue to behave as she stepped toward him. “Did you come into contact with any fire?” she asked, unable to stop looking at him. Which was…ridiculous. So, he was hot? She’d seen attractive men as patients before. But…there was something different about him. Something affecting. And pretty. And muscles.

  “No, where I jumped, the fire’d already been put out. This is all old ash.”

  “Ah.” Her hands wanted to shake, but she focused on the task at hand. Bump. Concussion symptoms. Deciding if she’d recommend a CAT scan.

  “Ever jumped into a fire, doc?”

  “No, my job is to heal fools who think they’re immortal.” Oh, that was not bedside manner.

  But he laughed and something about that sexy rumble while she was gently parting his hair made her brain malfunction. Completely. She didn’t even remember what she was doing.

  Focus. You’re a doctor. You’re a McArthur. The bump wasn’t alarming, and the placement on his skull made it unlikely he had internal bleeding, with no ill-effects this far after the original accident.

  “So, what’s the verdict, doc?” he asked, his voice a low, silky murmur. “Do I have a week to live?”

  She dropped her hands and took a few steps away from him. Okay, maybe she scurried away from him. “You probably suffered from a concussion. Over the next few days you may get a nasty headache. You’ll want to avoid any screen time—TV, phones, computers. No contact sports, or, I assume, jumping out of planes.”