To the blood and screams and weeping.
Except maybe she could still resurrect this evening. Riley hadn’t exactly turned down her offer to take a look at his shoulder. He sat behind her, his hands on her hips, her body nestled into the pocket of his legs, leaning with her as she drove her brother’s bike along the dirt road that led back to Sky King ranch.
Dodge would be so furious with her if he knew she’d taken out his Triumph Tiger to lure home a man. But Dodge and her other two bossy younger brothers weren’t here to give her grief, thank you, and truth was, if they were, well maybe she wouldn’t be trapped here, helping her dad keep the bush flight service open.
She was sick of catering to fishermen and hunters, cleaning cabins, fish, and making beer runs for wealthy sportsmen from the Lower 48. She had her own dreams, her own life, her own…
Okay, fears.
Not tonight. She gunned the bike as they neared the ranch nestled in the pocket of the foothills of Denali. A red-hued sun hung just over the white-capped granite mountains, dragging blood-red shadows across the lake that edged their property, over one hundred acres of prime Alaska real estate. And the Kingston family’s hand-built log cabin sat in the middle of it, an expansive lodge with a two-story great room window that faced the national forest and all its glory to the north.
Okay, it might be a view she never tired of. A view that had called her home in a weak moment.
She drove past the house. Her father’s truck sat in the drive, and beyond that, in the grass strip behind the house, was parked the bright yellow DHC-3 Otter, the back seats removed for the jump crew.
A few of the smokejumpers her father had agreed to house sat on the deck of the lodge. The only woman, Skye, sat staring out at the sunset, looking a little shell shocked.
Larke recognized the look.
Tiny cabins nestled near the lake, where the floatplane bobbed, tied to the dock.
She slowed, then followed the rutted road that led down the ridge and around to the far western edge of the lake.
The original homestead was now her private cabin.
It sat below the ridge in a pocket of land rimmed by the lake to the east and a pine forest to the north.
Just far enough away to be on her own, close enough to feel safe.
She pulled up near the tiny barn next to the homestead that housed her truck, then propped up the bike as Riley got off.
After stowing their helmets in the seat, she held out her hand.
He grinned at her and slid his into hers. Big. Warm. Calloused.
She headed down the path toward the house.
“Where are we going?” Riley asked.
She debated a moment and wondered if she had the courage to…
Nope, probably not. “To watch the sunset,” she said. “But I’m going to get you some ice first.”
His hand tightened in hers. “I don’t need ice,” he said, a little husk to his voice.
She laughed, and it sounded nervous.
Perfect.
And shoot, Riley must have noticed because he slowed his steps all the way to a stop. Turned to her. “You okay?”
Aw. She forced a smile but had to look away from those brown eyes.
Oh, she knew how to pick them—always the kind who could peel away her pretense and now…was she crying?
Good freakin’ grief. She took a breath and tore her hand from his. “Let’s get that ice.”
She practically ran down to her cabin, Riley’s steps fast, then slowing behind her.
She left him on the porch as she grabbed an ice pack from her freezer. Came out to find him sitting in the grass, staring west as the fire lit the sky.
“Nice place.”
“It was my grandparents’. It was pretty rough inside when I started, but it’s nice now. New kitchen, stacked stone fireplace, refinished flooring. I put in a skylight upstairs so I could watch the stars in the winter.” And now she was blathering. Poor man. She should have just dropped him off at the lodge.
She sat down next to him in the grass and handed him the gel pack. “Put this on your shoulder.”
He took it and held it to his left shoulder and nodded toward the house. “You did all that?”
“I had help.”
“Boyfriend?”
“Dad. When I came home, I just…I didn’t want to live at the lodge. My grandmother lived here until I was twelve. I’d come down here to get away from my brothers. When I got back, it seemed like the right place to live. Clear my head.”
Keep others from hearing her nightmares.
And now she’d probably told him too much because he was quiet a long time. Finally, “The sun never really sets, does it?”
Oh. Um, “No, it doesn’t set. Not in the summer. It can sometimes get dark in the forest, with the shadows, but really, it’s all sun, all the time.”
“Makes it hard to sleep.” He glanced at her, a little spark in his eyes.
But her mouth reacted before she caught on to his flirt. “Oh, I don’t sleep, but it’s not because of the midnight sun.”
No, no—what was her problem? She wanted to yank back the words as soon as she said them.
His mouth tightened, another tiny frown crossed his face, and he turned back to the sunset. But he said nothing.
His leg was strong and warm next to hers as she leaned back on her hands. She let the silence move between them, the sun warm her skin.
Until, “Are you okay, Larke?”
She looked at him, her breath caught, defenses rising, but he wore such a concerned look… Maybe…
She blamed the texture of his soft voice for the truth. “I… In the bar you just reminded me of someone. And when you said war wounds…”
“You lost someone.” He said it without question, as if he just knew. And wasn’t afraid of it.
She nodded.
He turned back to the sunset. “Today is the third anniversary of my dad’s death in Afghanistan.”
She stilled. Couldn’t take her eyes off him. He said it quietly, without emotion, just a hard swallow after his words giving him away. “So, I get it.”
Huh.
Then he met her eyes.
A heartbeat passed between them, and in it her lips parted.
He leaned over and kissed her.
His lips were gentle against hers, tasted of salty beer and campfire smoke with just enough tenderness that she wanted to cry. Because her heart simply reached out for it, waking, longing, needing.
Thirsty for the touch.
She found her hand on his chest, her mouth moving beneath his, opening to let him explore, suddenly, oddly unafraid.
He smelled of the sunshine on his skin, and she couldn’t help but touch that tempting beard.
A small groan escaped from deep in his chest, and suddenly he pulled away. Swallowed. Met her eyes.
She didn’t look away, letting him see her. Because maybe she’d found a guy who wouldn’t flinch, who wouldn’t run if he saw—
Oh. What was she doing?
She knew this type of man. Live hard, play hard. Run into danger and leave a woman with her heart in shreds. And sure, she knew she was playing with fire, knew from the very first glimpse of Riley that he’d be a guy who liked a relationship hot, intense, and over fast.
Had even told herself that’s all she wanted, too.
Except…well, maybe she wore panic on her face because a smile slid up one side of his breathtakingly, devastatingly handsome face. “Larke. Take a breath. We can just sit out here and watch the sunset if you want.”
Oh.
Uh.
He lay back in the grass and reached for her, pulling her down into the cradle of his embrace. And he was so warm and solid and accepting of whatever he’d seen in her eyes, she just might cry. Again.
Some easy one-night stand she’d turned out to be. Talk about bad choices. Poor Riley.
“Tell me about him,” Riley said quietly. “The someone that you lost.”
She put
her hand on his chest, where his heart beat, and found it strong, solid.
“His name was Freeman. He was a PJ. A Pararescue trooper. Special Ops, medic. He’d bring us the injured SEALs and Rangers and other quiet warriors, and we…well, it was war, and frankly, in the middle of the chaos, with him I felt safe.”
Riley had his hand in her hair, running his fingers through her knots, gently untangling them.
“I was stationed at Bagram, and one night we were attacked. I was outside the fence, working on a specialist who’d been injured, when a rocket lit up my escape. I was trapped outside the fence, the soldier dead on the ground beside me, when suddenly, Freeman came running right through the fire to me. I can still see the look on his face—fury, determination.” She swallowed, turned onto her back, and watched the sun turn the dark clouds to striations of orange, crimson, Denali falling to black. Beside her, Riley said nothing, just the rise and fall of his chest.
“A bullet took him down about five steps from me. And he still dragged himself over to me, landed on top of me, and protected me with his body.” She closed her eyes, and a tear pooled in her ear. “He died like that, his body covering mine.”
Riley wove his fingers through hers, and she pulled his hand to her chest.
“I’m such a fun date,” she said, giving a terrible laugh.
He turned and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Yeah, well, I’m a jerk because up until a few minutes ago, I thought maybe I could capitalize on all those tears.”
She laughed, but he looked over at her, not smiling.
Oh.
But then he grinned and winked and oh, she liked him. Too much.
“When did you get back from Afghanistan?”
“A year ago. Dad needed help with the ranch, and my brothers are all still in the service, so it’s just me. I help him run the bush plane service and am the mobile medic for the area.”
“Mobile medic?”
“Yeah, for the homesteaders who can’t—or don’t want to—come in for medical treatment. Midwifery, first aid, that sort of thing.”
“So I guess I shouldn’t have played tough guy with the shoulder.”
“Nope.”
“It’s really injured. I need lots of TLC.”
She laughed.
“So how many brothers do I need to watch out for?”
“Three. Triplets. And all in different branches of the military—Navy, Army, Air Force. It’s always a competition with them.”
“I was going to join the Marines before my dad died. Became a hotshot instead.”
She leaned up on one elbow. He still wore the ice pack, and she lifted it off. “Why didn’t you join up?”
She was probing his shoulder, felt the softness in between the joints, the swelling. Yeah, this could easily become a dislocation if he stressed it.
“Because I’m not him,” Riley said. “He was brave and smart and steady. Always followed the rules. And I’m not that guy. I’m not a hero.”
“Whatever.” She shook her head, grinning at him.
He grinned back, his brown eyes sweet, just enough heat in them to stir desire back through her.
“So why did you join the smokejumpers? It’s so dangerous. Aren’t you afraid of burning to death?”
He raised an eyebrow. “We have fire shelters. They’re not exactly safe—people still die—but they give you a chance when the fire is on top of you.”
“A fire shelter?”
“It’s like a tent, only with pockets—you put your hands and feet in the pockets and hold it down to the ground, make a little well for your face and bury it into the soil, breathing the clean air. The rest of the air is toxic, so—I’ve never actually had to deploy my shelter, and I hope I never do.”
He looked away from her, his face twisting. Oh, she knew exactly how to spoil a mood.
“Actually, I had never thought about being a firefighter—it was my buddy Thad’s idea. He had worked as a hotshot in Yellowstone for a couple summers and decided he wanted to be a jumper. We both tried out—I made it.”
“And he…”
“Went back to Chicago. Got into trouble.” He took a breath and looked away from her.
And she didn’t want to ask what kind of trouble, but—
“He died about three months ago, drunk driving accident.”
Oh, Riley. “I’m so sorry.”
He swallowed, met her eyes. “See, I’m a fun date, too.”
She traced her fingers across his lips. And couldn’t stop herself from leaning down to kiss him, this time sinking into his touch, letting herself relish his arms around her, the quiet sanctity of his embrace. He pulled her tight against himself and returned the kiss, deep, savoring, as if he also needed her, just a little.
And it came to her that, at least right now, she might be able to turn the page. To put Freeman in the past. At least long enough to enjoy the sunset in Riley’s arms.
He groaned, something deep and affirming, a hum of banked desire and…um. Okay. Brakes. Especially because desire stirred inside her, too.
But no, she couldn’t.
Her heart thundered as she rolled away from him.
He said nothing for a long time. Then, finally, “I’m getting a few mixed signals here, so I’m going to err on the side of No. Just so we’re clear, you’re in charge, Larke. But in case you’re wondering, this doesn’t need to be anything more than right now.”
Of course. She’d expected that.
“Or it could be, Larke. I don’t have to be the guy you wanted in the bar.”
She caught her breath.
“I’m just saying that I don’t just put out fires. I can start them. And keep them going…”
She closed her eyes.
“Or I can be just a friend, if that’s what you need.”
She took his hand, pulled it close, wound her fingers through his. The sky had turned a deeper shade of blood red, the clouds deeply bruised, purple and black.
“No, Riley, I don’t think you can. But right now. This. It’s enough.” At least until the dawn broke as she had to face another sunrise.
Because tomorrow he’d be right back in the fire.
And she couldn’t love another man who wasn’t afraid to run into danger.
2
“McCord—get up. We have a start.”
The words jerked Riley out of the semidarkness caused by the shades at the windows, and he emitted a groan as he opened his eyes to spot Tucker in the lighted crack between door and frame of his room. “There were a few bets that we should look for you down at Larke’s place…apparently you’ve lost your game.”
Tucker ducked away from the flying boot Riley scooped off the floor. It hit the wall beside the frame.
“And your aim. Listen—Jed took off last night, and I’ve been promoted to Jump Boss. I’m headed up to the lodge for a sit-rep. Get your backside in gear. I need you.”
He shut the door as Riley leaned up and groaned. Rotated his shoulder and gulped away the fire that shot down his arm, through his core. Okay, a couple ibuprofen and he’d be golden.
Really.
Probably it was a good thing that Larke hadn’t woken up to seeing him bite back a little pain-control breathing.
I’m not a hero.
Whatever.
Yeah, that had gone right to his heart, and he’d meant his words. I can be just a friend, if that’s what you need. At least, at the time.
And for the next couple hours as he’d watched the sky turn from golden to burnished, as Larke, surprisingly, fell asleep in his arms beside him.
He’d wanted to pick her up, to carry her inside her cabin, but not only would his shoulder have given out, but he intended to mean his words. And with the midnight sun turning her blonde hair into white gold, her eyes so sweetly closed, as if she might be dreaming, yeah, he sort of didn’t trust himself.
Or his crazy emotions. She’d curled up next to him, her hand right over his heart, and shoot, the rush of strange emotions had hi
m a little off-balance.
He didn’t do relationships or commitment or anything that had to do with slowing down to consider the man he’d once wanted to be. That would mean letting his father catch up to tell him all the ways he’d failed.
Which meant he’d just had a hiccup last night with Larke. Let her in a little further than he’d intended.
That was then.
This was today. And today he had a fire. Something to focus on, dig into, fill the hollow place.
Maybe it would also burn off the residue of desire that lingered after he’d left her on her cabin doorstep, kissed her sweetly, her face in his calloused hands, still trying to be the good guy, and hiked back to his lonely, quiet room.
He was out before his head hit the pillow, but the memory of her warmth against him still lingered. The sense that maybe…
No.
I don’t just put out fires. I can start them. And keep them going…
Whatever.
Sometimes he couldn’t believe the words that came out of his own mouth.
He pulled on his green Nomex pants, a moisture-wicking, flame-resistant T-shirt, and his yellow shirt-jacket. All clean, thanks to the Sky King laundry room.
A fresh start to a new day, a new fire, another escape into a world where hard work kept him from thinking.
He needed to restock his PG pack, get more MREs, check the batteries for his flashlight, nab a couple more protein bars, instant coffee, first aid gear, GPS, and his blue necessaries bag with fresh socks, another shirt, underclothes, and toothpaste. He’d also add a red bag stuffed with his sleeping bag, a compact camp stove, and a tiny, one-man tent.
Everything he needed to live on the line for at least a couple days, if not longer.
But he might perish without coffee first. Riley grabbed his travel mug and headed outside.
The fresh, piney air, the drape of sunshine against a rippled, indigo lake, and sparkling diamonds in the dewy grass caught him up, filled his lungs. He couldn’t help but cast a quick look toward the cabin beneath the ridge.
I can be more…
He should just forget about her, because chances were that the team was headed back into the bush to fight another blaze. And if not, they would be heading back to Montana soon enough.
Summer of the Burning Sky Page 27