On Fire
By Alicia Nordwell
Nothing beats getting out of the concrete jungle and into the quiet of the forest. Website designer Scottie Ness is taking a well-deserved vacation from the grindstone, and he plans to spend it in the solitude of Washington’s Gifford Pinchot National Forest around Mt. Adams. He’s prepared for everything—except the lightning storm that traps him in a wildfire.
The firefighter who rescues him sustains serious injuries and ends up in the hospital. Jax Quintero might be abrasive, but the guy saved his life, and Scottie wants to thank him. As they spend time together during Jax’s recovery and exploring the state’s landmarks when he’s released from the hospital, Scottie discovers there’s more to Jax than a smart-ass adrenaline junkie. Jax reassesses his opinion of Scottie as an arrogant city boy who has no business in the mountains. Though Jax’s wounds prevent them from taking things as far as they’d like for a while, they can’t deny the heat building between them—and this is one fire they don’t want to put out.
States of Love: Stories of romance that span every corner of the United States.
Table of Contents
Blurb
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
More from Alicia Nordwell
About the Author
By Alicia Nordwell
Visit Dreamspinner Press
Copyright Page
To all those who assured me I could write contemporary with special thanks to M and Renee for their encouragement from start to finish!
Chapter One
“WHAT EXOTIC tropical locale are you going to spend your vacation drunk in?” Carter leaned back in his chair so he could see into Scottie’s cubicle. He smirked. “Or are you hitting the casinos in Vegas to make your fortune and leave all of us to toil away in the trenches alone?”
“Neither. Hiking and camping in the Gifford Pinchot around Mt. Adams.” Scottie adjusted a line of code, and the website header widened. “I’m all set to go in the morning.”
“Seriously? You have a week off in August, and you’re going to waste it trudging through the dirt and pine trees when you could be lounging on the beach somewhere?” Carter shook his head. “Wouldn’t catch me doing that. Aren’t there bears and cougars up there?”
Scottie shrugged one shoulder. “I might see a bear, if I’m lucky. Cougars are actually pretty shy.”
“You want to see a bear?”
“It’d make a great picture.” The website he was working on needed to be visually appealing on both computers and mobile devices, and he was having a hard time focusing. “It’s Friday. Don’t you have some reason to duck out and start the weekend early?”
“Nope. Miranda, Tark, and I are all going out for happy hour at Corrigan’s, but not until six. Don’t try to change the subject. You know you can take pictures at the beach, right? White sand, crystal blue water, and palm trees swaying in front of the setting sun.”
“Dime a dozen. I like living in Washington because we have so many places where I can take beautiful nature photos. Coastline, rivers, lakes, mountains, even the desert, all within a few hours’ drive. Besides, I’m still paying off my student loans. I don’t have money for expensive vacations.”
“Two words. Credit cards.”
Of course. Carter wore name-brand shoes with his fancy suits and never brought a lunch, preferring to order takeout. He’d graduated a year before Scottie, so it wasn’t like he made that much more money. “One word. Stupid.”
Carter rolled his eyes. “Whatever, man. When I take my week off next month, I’m going to Hawaii. Hotel on the beach, coconut drinks, and chicks in bikinis. Any women you come across in the campground will probably be covered in pitch and pine needles.”
“I’m not going to stay in the campgrounds. I’m hiking and camping off the trails, and for the most part, I won’t see any people at all.”
A look of horror crossed Carter’s face. “Seriously?”
He nodded. “I used to go camping with my family all the time growing up. We’d hike, fish, roast hot dogs and marshmallows over the fire. It’s peaceful.”
“Whatever, man. When you get munched on by a bear, can I get your chair?”
It was Scottie’s turn to roll his eyes. “I’m not going to get eaten by a bear, and your chair is the same as mine. Why would you want it?”
“I spilled fish sauce on mine earlier this week, and now it smells funny.”
“Well you can’t have my chair, and I’ll notice if there’s a fish funk on mine when I get back, so don’t even try to switch them. Don’t you have a project to finish? I have to get this done before I leave.”
“Fine, fine.” Carter rolled back to his desk. “Have fun communing with wildlife.”
SCOTTIE ROLLED up his backpacking tent with an extra tarp and fastened it to the bottom of his pack. His sleeping bag, a change of clothes, survival kit, portable stove, water filter, and food fit inside. The rest of his camping gear was piled along the wall, taking up most of the living room floor in his postage stamp of an apartment. He plopped down on the couch with a beer and opened his laptop.
Using a red highlighter, he outlined the trails he planned to take and marked his base camp as well as his possible overnight camping sites before printing out two copies. Picking up a pen, Scottie scribbled his full name, the dates of his trip, and what kind of vehicle he was driving on the back of one map. He’d drop it off at the ranger station before he stopped in Trout Lake for some sandwiches. No idea what they did to make them taste so great, but they were way better than anything he could make. He’d have to stop by the ATM on the way out of Vancouver to pick up some cash.
Now that he had all the nitty-gritty survival stuff out of the way, he had to get his photography equipment in order. Scottie didn’t spend much money on himself, but he had a nice Canon camera, lenses, a flexible tripod for his hiking pack, and a bigger telescoping tripod in its own bag. Using a polishing cloth from his cleaning kit, Scottie went over every piece of glass in his camera bag, making sure all the lenses and filters were spotless. Photography might be just a hobby, but he took pride in getting that one shot that made all the hard work worth it.
He’d finished his beer by the time he had the last memory card and battery stowed, and he waffled on what he wanted to do. He’d been up since six, worked a full day, and finished getting all his camping gear ready to load in the morning, but he wasn’t tired enough to go to bed. The weather report he checked promised sunny days and clear nights—though it wouldn’t be nearly as warm around Mt. Adams as it would be in Portland. With as dry as the summer had been, many of the creeks would be down to a trickle, though, and that’s how he got a lot of his water. He’d have to grab an extra water jug.
Knowing how dry the trip would be, Scottie couldn’t resist going for a swim before he left. His apartment might be tiny, but the complex had its perks besides the low rent. He liked the interior doors, and the pool and exercise room privileges were rolled into his rent. After changing into his trunks and flip-flops, Scottie grabbed a towel and his keys. A family with two kids under the age of ten were in the pool when he got there, and he made sure to wrap his keys up in his towel so the electronic door key that got him in the exterior doors wouldn’t get wet. He moved to the deep end, avoiding the giggling and splashing over near the stairs.
/> Not long after he got in the parents pulled the protesting kids out of the water, and Scottie was left alone. He swam some laps just fast enough to feel the muscles in his body stretching after a long day sitting at the computer. After fifty, he stopped in the center of the pool and flipped onto his back, floating with his arms and legs stretched out. There were large skylights over the pool, but it was too dark to see anything. No stars in the city.
Scottie missed the stars. He’d grown up in a small town up the Gorge where the night pollution didn’t block the twinkles of millions of lights in the sky. His work was in the city, and as much as he’d like to live outside the concrete jungle, there were other aspects of small-town life he could do without.
Everyone knowing everything about you and thinking it was their right to judge, for example.
The peaceful mood was broken by Scottie’s downward spiral into morose thoughts, so he swam over to the ladder and climbed out. He ran the towel over his hair and then wiped down his chest and arms. Mostly dry, he wrapped the towel around his waist. His feet squeaked in his flip-flops as he headed back to his apartment, ready to get out of the city and away from everything he dealt with on a daily basis.
SINCE HE wasn’t beating the sun to get the best shooting light Scottie let himself sleep in without an alarm on Saturday. It took three trips to and from the apartment to his SUV to get everything loaded, but eventually all his gear and food was stowed in the back.
He stopped by the bank and Dutch Bros before he headed down to Highway 14 and turned east out of town. Just twenty minutes and he was driving up a hill into the trees, city streets left behind. An hour and there was nothing around him but trees, grass, and the winding road as he bypassed Carson and took the back roads to Trout Lake so he could check out Goose Lake.
The mosquitoes were out in full force around the lake, even though it was nowhere near nightfall. “Shit.” Scottie dug through one of the plastic bins and pulled out his mosquito repellant, dousing all his exposed skin. He paid extra for the scentless spray, and it was worth it. The water was lower than he’d ever seen it, exposing thick mud and mossy logs and tree stumps that were usually covered. People were still fishing, and over by the boat launch some families were swimming. The campground looked like it was full.
There were probably a lot of families taking advantage of getting away before school began in a few weeks. Hunting season opened about the same time, but he still might meet some guys scouting the area before the season started. Scottie hummed as he navigated the single-lane gravel road. Most of the little turnouts had cars and trucks parked on the edges, and he saw several berry pickers bending over the bushes on the slopes. The lack of water had stunted the bushes, leaving them less than waist-high.
Still, maybe he’d find some huckleberries on a few of his more remote hikes. He had a small jug of pancake mix just begging for some of the sweet purple fruit to be thrown in. Scottie didn’t mind a few blueberries mixed in either.
The mountain peeked in and out of view as he drove around it on his way into Trout Lake. He stopped by the ranger station first. An older lady stood behind the counter chatting with a guy in shorts and a T-shirt.
She pointed out the Big Tree on his map. “Stay away from the ice caves, though. They were closed because it’s not safe this time of year. If you want to do cave hikes, head around Mt. Adams toward Cougar and you can do the Ape Caves.”
The tourist thanked her and left. Scottie stepped up to the counter.
“What can I do for you?” she asked.
“I’m going to be hiking alone around the mountain this week, and I wanted to drop off my map. I marked where I plan to base my camp and then the trails I want to do each day and where I might camp if I decide to stay out overnight. I also added my vehicle information.”
She flipped the map around and took a look. “There’s some remote trails marked on this. They might not be cleared this year.”
“That’s okay. I’ve been hiking up here since I was five. I have a pack with a survival kit, and I also have a GPS and compass so I won’t get lost. I don’t want to have to help pay off Search and Rescue if they’re called out for me.” His dad would never let him live it down—especially since he’d be up there looking for him too.
“You got a lot of water? It’s pretty dry this year. Don’t forget there’s also a burn ban.”
“While I’ll miss a fire, I brought my stove, so I won’t be tempted. I brought a water filter in case I have to resort to creek water, but I filled two five-gallon jugs at home too. Is the spigot still turned on?”
“For now.”
“All right, thanks for letting me know. If I need to, I’ll come into town and buy some jugs at the grocery. I’m actually heading over there for some ice and sandwiches for lunch and dinner.”
“Can’t go wrong with the turkey.”
Scottie grinned. “I like the ham too. I guess I’ll just have to buy a few of both.”
“Even better. Have a good trip.”
“Thanks.” Scottie waved before he let the door shut. He tooled over to the tiny store, luckily finding parking right in front since the small town was busy with their weekly Saturday market. He went inside and picked up another bag of ice to top off the ice chest and keep his sandwiches from spoiling.
After filling his gas tank Scottie headed north out of Trout Lake, aiming straight for the mountain. He wanted to make camp before the sun started fading since night came earlier in the mountains. A few single-lane roads, cattle guards, groomed gravel roads, and one very rutted and overgrown track with potholes that threatened his SUV’s axels later, Scottie pulled off the road into a small clearing just above a creek.
Stepping out of the car as soon as the cloud of dust settled, Scottie took a deep breath. Pine needles dominated the scents on the breeze that swayed the treetops, but there was an undercurrent of warm dirt he just didn’t catch in the city. He’d gained quite a few scratches in his SUV’s paint job, but when he closed his eyes and strained, nothing but the wind, birds, and water broke the silence.
“Perfect.” He shut the door quietly. He’d camped here before, but some hunters also used the area. Usually they cleaned up after themselves, but he found some beer cans in the fire pit. He wasn’t going to use it, so he didn’t need to clean it out, but he’d take the garbage with him when he left. “Leave it cleaner than you found it,” he said in an echo of his father’s favorite saying.
Carter would make fun of him if he could hear Scottie talking to himself, but it was a habit he’d never been able to break, even after the other man snickered when Scottie got lost in a problem at work and kept muttering at the computer. It helped him organize his thoughts.
Pacing around the clearing, Scottie found the best place for his tent. It’d get some sun but be partly protected between a few trees. He picked up all the sticks and rocks he could find and used the side of his boot to smooth out a few spots, then opened the back of his SUV. No novice to camping, he’d loaded up in reverse order of what he’d need as he set up camp. He put his chair against a tree and then lugged the ice chest over to another shaded spot. Putting up a tent solo wasn’t fun, but he had a good dome tent that made it pretty easy. One fake green grass rug in front for his shoes and he was ready to unroll his sleeping pads and bedding. His clothes bag and a chair fit in one of the side rooms, and he hung a battery-powered lantern from the hook in the center.
Because he was staying in bear territory, and camp robbers were stealthy little bastards who’d fly off with anything left out, he kept the box of food in the cargo area of his SUV when he set up his kitchen area. The table fit over the ice chest, and he set the water jugs next to a tote full of general gear behind it. The propane stove went on top.
“Home sweet home.” Scottie got a soda and unfolded his gravity chair, placing it so he’d get to enjoy the full warmth of the sun. He cracked open the bottle and took a long drink, then made sure he closed it. The first thing he needed to do was dig out a fe
w bee traps. The little pests were swarming in the warmer weather. He’d also have to put his garbage well away from the main areas of camp to avoid attracting them or bears.
It could wait, though. Scottie tilted his chair all the way back and locked it in place. No work, no people, and no expectations. All he had to do was relax and enjoy seven days of peace.
Chapter Two
THERE WAS a trail about half a mile down the road that Scottie had hiked so many times he was comfortable traveling on it in the dark. His headlamp lit up a good circle of light and freed up both his hands for his camera equipment. He had his regular lens on, but the rest of his gear was in a bag that hung over his shoulders and opened at hip-level for easy use. The straps on his backpack were too loose, so he tightened those down and shortened the chest strap until it rested snug to his back.
The wind always picked up after it got dark, but in the early morning hours, everything went still. The only sound was the crunch of his shoes on the gravel road. Once he hit the trail, damp branches brushed across his body, getting his flannel wet. He walked into a strand of cobweb, and it stuck to his cheek.
“Yuck!” He swiped his hands over his cheeks, making sure he got it all off. There was nothing grosser than worrying if you picked up a little eight-legged hitchhiker. After that, Scottie tried to check things face height as well as along the ground as he followed the trail. He climbed steadily, his calves burning. “Been sitting too much,” he gasped during one steep slope before the path leveled off into a gentler incline.
The sky had faded from indigo to a lighter blue, and he wasn’t at the top yet. He kicked into high gear, managing to reach the crest of the trail before the sun peeked over Mt. Adams. He had a good view of the mountain framed by smaller trees in the foreground, so he dumped his pack against a sapling and pulled out his telescoping tripod. He worked quickly to get it level so he could attach his camera.
On Fire Page 1