by Leslie North
"Well, now ain't that something?" Dyna declared. The bubble in Sookie doubled, no, tripled, in size. Dyna slid the mug of coffee her way, and Sookie tried to come up with something properly modest to say. Dyna was already moving on. "How'd your brother take the news? Bet he's never been prouder!"
The bubble burst.
"I . . . haven't really been in touch with Hank," Sookie admitted as Dyna took her menu away. No need to waste words on ordering when she always got the same thing: strawberry pancakes with a side of homegrown honey instead of syrup.
"That's a shame." She could see Dyna’s disapproval, even if the woman didn't appear exactly surprised.
"I ran into him in Alaska a few years ago," Sookie said quickly. "We just . . . we don't talk much. After what happened."
Dyna's grimace was now sympathetic. She reached across the bar and patted Sookie on one wilted shoulder. "Why don't I get you those pancakes," she said. "Local discount." Sookie nodded gratefully as the older woman disappeared back through the swinging doors of the kitchen.
Once Dyna had gone, Sookie leaned back on her stool, both hands wrapped around her coffee mug, and breathed another contented sigh. She had known her return to town would raise questions about Hank, but knowing didn't make navigating those conversations any easier. Her brother's movements in the world were as mysterious to her as they were to anyone who asked after him, yet she was still expected to keep close tabs on him. That's what family was for, right?
Any normal, well-adjusted family, anyway.
"How's the coffee?" Dyna asked as she returned. Sookie realized she was grimacing, and quickly changed her expression to one of absolute caffeinated enchantment. It wasn't hard—she had flown all around the world and had never tasted a cup that was its equal, and she told Dyna as much now. "Oh, stop it, you!" Dyna swatted her affectionately as she placed a steaming-hot pile of pancakes in front of her. Sookie's mouth watered at the sight. "You been by to see Lana yet?"
"I was thinking about it," Sookie hedged. She picked up the honey and drizzled sweet liquid gold all over her short stack until the cakes were completely gilded. Then she dove headfirst into her breakfast.
Dyna passed her a napkin, and the disproving look was back. "You ought to go see her." It came on stronger than a suggestion. "I'm sure she'd love to hear all about how you're getting on in the world." And I'm sure she'd love to hear all about Hank was the unspoken follow-up—or at least, Sookie imagined it was.
Hank and Lana had dated seriously all through high school. Everyone in Cedar Springs had every expectation that the golden couple would get hitched right after graduation, and none had expected it more than Lana herself.
Things hadn't worked out that way, to say the least.
Sookie wondered if it could be possible that Lana still loved Hank, even after all this time. What was Lana still doing living in this damn town? Waiting for a miracle? Waiting to wake up one morning to find her brother, Michael, still alive, and Hank in the driveway with his old firebird-red Buick? If she visited Lana, what sort of woman was she likely to meet after all these years?
Sookie shook her head to clear it, but Dyna interpreted it differently. "Sookie," she said with a new weight in her voice. "You owe her a visit. If it's going to be one of you Logans, it may as well be you."
"I agree," Sookie said. She took another swig of hot coffee, relishing the fire that raced down her throat and ignited a little extra courage in her heart. "It will be good to see her."
"She's as beautiful as ever." Dyna sighed wistfully. "So are you, dear. Sakes alive, you bloomed right on up like a rare mountain flower. I swear I don't know what magic's in the water around here, but I gotta get me some."
"From where I'm sitting, it looks like you've had plenty." Sookie grinned and received another affectionate swat. "Hasn’t anyone flirted with you yet today, Dyna? I'll flirt with you."
"You Logans!" Dyna exclaimed again, this time with an appreciative laugh. "Bunch of charming rascals at heart! I never knew whether to give you an extra kiss of cocoa or a good swift kick in the ass."
No one did, Sookie reflected. "I seem to remember a lot of cocoa," she said aloud. "The diner always felt like a nice place to us." To get away from home. "We were always happy here."
"Well, the diner's happy to have you home. And I know Lana would be, as well. She always liked you, you know," Dyna confided as she started collecting dishes.
"I always liked her," Sookie muttered. It was true. Though Sookie was younger, Lana had never treated her like a pesky little sister or a thorn in her relationship with Hank that she was forced to bear. Hell, she had been one of the few constants in Sookie's life, until Hank's shitty decisions had ripped Lana away from her. "I guess I just assumed she'd rather not see me," she concluded. "Not after everything."
"Only one way to find out!" Dyna said brightly.
Sookie nodded. If she could fly a Black Hawk over a raging fire, she could drag her ass over to Lana Sweet's and try to make things right by her—even if it was her brother who owed the biggest apology of all. But if you were going to wait on Hank Logan to come back around and make reparations for all the damage he had done, then you might as well sit tight and start counting the years.
Like poor Lana.
The bell chimed, and a blast of heady mountain air came into the room. Several seconds later, a dish dropped, rattling several revolutions on the floor before stilling. The dish had fallen out of Dyna's hands.
Sookie gazed in alarm at the older woman. Was she having some sort of fit? She quickly ran through a short list of physical symptoms, but she couldn't identify anything responsible for Dyna's complete upright catatonia. Then, suddenly, the spell was broken, and Dyna gasped. "Well, if it isn't the hand of God himself, I don't know what is!"
Sookie turned slowly on her stool. Agonizingly slow. The movie-murderer-is-standing-directly-behind-you-slow. She knew by the astonished tone of Dyna's voice what she was about to see, but she still couldn't fully wrap her head around it when she finally saw it.
It was her brother, Hank, standing in the doorway to the diner, so tall she was surprised he had avoided hitting his head on the little bell.
Two other men ducked in behind Hank. She watched as the first removed his cap, then the second man. It was the last man's face that completed the one-two punch to Sookie's stomach. Standing beside her brother was the would-be Romeo from the tarmac, looking more delicious than Dyna's strawberry pancakes. She could all-too-easily imagine the abs stacked beneath his T-shirt, and what it would be like to lick her way down them . . . with a drizzle of honey, of course. She practically had to drag her eyes kicking and screaming away from looking at him, and that was with her brother still standing there, surveying Dyna's like a lord, as if it was a domain he intended to retake for some distant kingdom.
Hank's eyes locked with Sookie's.
She raised her hand in a cool wave, sparing no grease in the elbow. She let the hand drift back down to the counter as Hank crossed the short distance to her stool. The two men standing behind him exchanged a look of confusion before following; Sookie noted that Romeo's confusion seemed tinged with embarrassment, maybe even a little panic. She couldn't deny it was a cute look . . . and one she was feeling more than passingly sympathetic to at the moment.
She didn't stand to receive a hug like she had with Dyna. Hank froze a moment, hovering over her, but then relaxed his posture. His hands slipped comfortably into the front pockets of his jeans. Sookie noted mentally that she had the same habit, and she wondered if she had picked it up from him.
She would have to work at breaking it. Later.
"Hey, Sook . . ." Hank began.
The entire diner held its breath.
Chapter 3
Chase
Sook.
So that was the Ice Queen's name. Chase marveled at it, tasted it, turned it over in his mind.
Okay, so it was kind of a weird name. But he could work with weird.
The three of them—h
e and Garrett, with Hank at the front—stood around the occupied bar stool, but the woman refrained from rising. Chase hadn't caught onto it immediately, but he understood now: This is an awkward situation. He had managed to avoid most situations like this in his personal life simply by being charming, or so he told himself. Hank was a hard-ass with almost zero outward charm that Chase could perceive . . . hence, the unpleasant reunion they were all being forced to live through right now.
Hey, Sook.
"Well, hello there, Hand of God," the pilot said. The retort would have flown over Chase’s head completely had he not heard what the woman behind the counter had whispered on seeing Hank enter. "In town for a visit? That's unlike you."
Hank shifted beside him, and Chase almost did a double take. Was his chief actually uncomfortable right now? "Business," Hank corrected. "I'm here with a volunteer contingent to help with the fire."
"That makes two of us," the woman replied, and turned back around on her stool. Chase couldn't stand it; he was itching to say something, to make himself stand out in the frigid exchange. It was driving him crazy, not knowing if she recognized him or not. Maybe he had only imagined the astonished look in her eye a moment ago when her gaze had leapfrogged to him.
Only one way to find out.
"Nice to meet you, Sook." Chase stepped forward and took a pair of defibrillators to the dead conversation. He could tell that his immediate neighbors were alarmed by the intrusion, even though he had been standing there the entire time.
The pilot swiveled back around on her stool. "Don't call me Sook," she snapped. "It's Sookie."
"Sookie." That made more sense as a name, he supposed. "Chase Kingston." He extended his hand. He had already decided to ignore the defensive tone in her voice. He understood on some level that while it was directed at him, it wasn't actually meant for him . . . yet. After a split second of contemplation, she accepted his hand, shaking it firmly. She hadn't warmed, exactly, but seemed more willing to give him the time of day, knowing her harsh greeting hadn't scared him off. "Hank, why didn't you tell us the world's most beautiful woman was hiding out in Cedar Springs?" It seemed a safe enough compliment, considering he had no idea how his chief might be connected to this woman. She may very well be the mysterious childhood sweetheart Chase was betting on.
"I suppose 'world's most beautiful' is subjective," Hank said, "especially considering the hand you won't quit shaking belongs to my kid sister."
Holy shit. This was Sookie Logan. Hank's sister. How had he not put two and two together until now?
Sookie was watching Chase's reaction play out across his face, amusement plain in her expression. He pulled his hand a little too quickly from hers and was gratified to see that she almost looked disappointed. "That's right. I'm Sookie Logan,” she said. “It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"That's not the impression you gave me earlier," Chase said. He saw Sookie cut him a quick, steely look, and he was happy that he hadn't just been imagining things back on the tarmac. Then she smoothed her expression the next instant before Hank might notice.
"The two of you have met before?" Garrett's voice was all astonishment, and Chase almost turned around to deck him one in the chest. For Christ's sake, tone down the overacting, Wyld.
"Yeah, they met before." Hank appeared uncertain of his own claim, but continued. "She stopped over in Alaska some time back. That was before you were with us, Garrett."
"My hair was longer then," Sookie said forgivingly.
Chase felt like a complete moron for not placing her sooner, especially considering she really was one of the most striking women he had ever met. He tried to call up a picture of the kid sister he had seen from a distance in Alaska—and wasn't disappointed. Sookie really had grown up since then; she had a tighter body now, for one thing, and seemed more confident in her own skin. He supposed flying aircraft and being dead sexy as hell probably had something to do with the poised way she carried herself.
The way she was looking at him now, too, made him think he wasn't the only one who had overlooked a lot on her visit. "You didn't remember me, either," Chase said, guessing.
"I remember you now. You were one of the new recruits." Sookie actually blushed at this. The warm color that suffused her cheeks struck him as startlingly girlish. He wasn't one to call grown women adorable, but damn . . . she was adorable. "You've packed on some muscle since then."
"I have. Thanks for noticing." Hank cleared his throat, and Chase raced on. "So . . . you're with the National Guard?" He gestured to Sookie's gear, and she glanced down at herself. When her face resurfaced, that sassy little eyebrow was raised at him again, the same way it had been back on the tarmac.
"Well, I'm not dressed for an early Halloween," she replied, and Chase had a feeling she was being merciful. He imagined that beautiful women in the National Guard, like the beautiful women who occasionally fought fires alongside him, were used to their credentials being questioned by the meatheads they worked with—if not the more ungrateful civilians they worked so tirelessly to save.
"You're our air support, then," he said.
"Very astute of you," Sookie replied in mock astonishment.
"If astute girl like you thinks so," Chase replied humbly. He heard Garrett clear his throat behind him, but he wasn't looking to impress Garrett with his pun.
He was surprised when Sookie laughed, a full-throated, bell-like sound—not like the tiny bell that hung above the diner door, but like a heavenly instrument. He liked the way her head fell back, liked the way the appreciative smile bloomed across her face—fuck, he liked it all. Especially the part where it was his lame pickup line that amused her.
Hank crossed his arms. Chase, suddenly reminded that he was flirting with his chief's sister, under his chief's direct supervision, realized he might have made an error in judgment. But he couldn't stop himself now, not when Sookie was looking at him with those gorgeous blue eyes full of wry expectation, waiting to see how far he would push it. Damn it, but beautiful was a powerful intoxicant.
"You know, guys in our squad have a name for girls like you," he said.
"Really," said Sookie. "And what do you call girls like me?"
"Angels," he replied. "You watch over us, but you're always flying just out of reach."
Hank cleared his throat again. Loudly.
Sookie was staring at Chase, her look of amusement suddenly turned to contemplation, but she snapped out of it the moment her brother interrupted the pause. "Well, Fireman Chase, I appreciate the sweet comparison. But I can guarantee you've never met a girl like me."
"Are we counting the time we met before?" Chase inquired, but Sookie just chuckled and shook her head as she slid off her stool. As she walked past the three of them, she let her finger trail along the front of his T-shirt to the squad logo sewn over his left pec. His stomach muscles tensed at the touch, and his blood started pumping. He watched Sookie Logan breeze back out the door of the diner, already familiar with the slight sashay in her step.
He was a lucky man, getting to watch her walk away from him twice in one day.
A luckier man wouldn't let her walk away a third time.
Hank clapped him on the back. Hank tended to use more force than the average person, but Chase thought there was something especially ominous about the strength behind this gesture. "Eyes on the prize, Kingston," Hank advised. "And off my little sister's ass."
Chapter 4
Sookie
Chase Kingston was a distraction she didn't need right now.
Even as Sookie mounted the steps to Lana's house, days later, heart lodged in her throat and palms sweating, her latest encounter with the cocky firefighter was never far from her thoughts. She couldn't believe he'd had the nerve to flirt with her in front of Hank—and if she was being honest with herself, she found it sexy as hell he had brazenly put it all on the line for her that way. She had never met a man willing to brave the wrath of her brother, especially not one of his subordinates . . .
if she was being honest.
Sookie decided to stop being honest with herself where Chase Kingston was concerned. It could never happen, and what's more, she didn't want it to happen. Not really. Not the logical part of her brain, anyway.
Where was that located, again?
She and Raj, her copilot, had spent the last several days assisting Frank in the daily maintenance of her bird. The crew chief was borderline romantically involved with the Black Hawk, but then again, so was she. Frank was old, and around humans, completely impatient and ornery, but he still struck her as probably having been the kind of kid who would have grown up fitting together model airplanes in his garage. He never seemed to take for granted that one of his jobs was to piece together and maintain the real thing now, even though he had been doing it for decades.
"I've been getting a funny vibration from where the foam tanks release all morning," she had told him. They had spent hours together poring over it, fiddling with it, until night fell and they had to call it a day.
"Keep an eye on her when she's in the air again," Frank grunted. "That vibration comes back, I want you back down here pronto. And keep an eye on her when you're taking off, too. Looked a bit wonky the last few times I watched from the ground. Unless you're getting careless, Logan?"
In summary, she had enough on her plate to worry about. She hadn't expected her brother to factor into her homecoming, and she really hadn't expected to be hovering her fist over his ex's door, as nervous as she had been the day she first took the Black Hawk up without an instructor. This was Lana, for fuck's sake. The woman couldn't have changed that much in the intervening years, could she?
Sookie rapped on the door and let her hand drop to her side, relaxing her fist. She held her breath.