by Kim Redford
“Misty,” she mumbled, prepared to do—well, whatever this hot, strong guy thought she could do. He tossed a blue towel onto her lap, and flashed a quick but genuine smile that filled her with tingly energy from the tips of her hair right down to her toes. It was a good kind of warmth, like sunbathing in the summer without a care in the world.
“Well, come on then, Misty!” he called over his shoulder. He took off toward the smoke and a break in the fence line.
She immediately felt the loss of his radiant energy. The sight of him in all his muscular glory running like all get-out didn’t hurt her illogical desire to follow him, either. That thought made her smile and set back her panic a bit. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to start writing poetry to honor him. She felt her breath come a little easier. Something about this guy made her feel braver.
Yet, did he actually expect her to fight the fire with him? Did he think she would run toward that horrible smell of burning grass instead of fleeing it? Did he imagine she would fight the flames with nothing more than a single, solitary towel in her very vulnerable hands? He must see something in her that she was pretty sure simply wasn’t there.
Fear and safety aside, she wasn’t dressed to fight a fire. North Texas was experiencing a December heat wave, and she was wearing capris and flip-flops. She could get hurt. She lowered her hands to her lap and gripped the towel. But if she didn’t help, how many more might be hurt? People. Animals. Property. Timber.
She had to help. She glanced down and noticed stains on the towel from some long-ago picnic. She couldn’t ever have imagined using her towels to put out a fire. But if ratty towels and her shaky courage were all that stood between death and destruction, they would have to do.
Mindful of possible traffic, she put her SUV in drive, pulled to the side of the road, and turned off the engine. She stepped outside. Ninety degrees wasn’t a miserable one hundred, but still plenty hot, particularly for the holiday season. Christmas was bad enough. Christmas and a heat wave together was—well, it was like hell on Earth. Complete with fire. How about some brimstone next?
She slammed the door shut, blocking retreat, and forced one foot in front of the other as she edged around the front fender. The scent of burning grass grew stronger. And just like that, she felt the sharp edge of a flashback threaten to overwhelm her. She clenched her empty fist, driving fingernails into her palm. She used the pain to ground her in the here and now. And in her mind, she employed her safe words. “Be here now. Safe and sound. Be here now.”
She looked across the fence and took a deep breath, despite the stench. Not a wall of fire. Instead, a line of red-orange flames ate up the dry grass, leaving black stubble behind as the blaze sent up plumes of smoke. She watched Trey beat at the conflagration with a towel in each hand. He was making progress. She felt hope that her towels could actually make a difference. But he couldn’t completely stop the flames. The fire line was too wide. Without her help, he was going to lose the battle.
He glanced over his shoulder at her. She felt his gaze as an almost physical sensation, willing her to help, giving her strength, sharing his courage. She felt a surge of determination. She wouldn’t let him fight alone.
When she reached the sagging barbwire fence, she carefully stepped over it and quickly walked to Trey. “What do you want me to do?”
“Can’t let the fire cross the road or it’ll be hell and gone.” He pointed toward the other side of the fire line. “You take that end. Beat out the flames as fast as you can. We’re ahead of the blaze, and we’ve got to stay that way.”
“Okay.” With one simple word, she knew she’d turned her world upside down, but she wouldn’t back down.
As she moved into position, she saw that fire consumed the dry grass at an unbelievably fast rate. They were in the middle of a bad drought. Add unseasonably warm temperatures to the mix and everything was vulnerable. Up close, intensity ruled. Heat. Smoke. Smell. Fortunately, the fire hadn’t spread too far. She raised her towel over her head and whipped down hard, smothering the flames. Brief elation filled her. Maybe she—they—could fight this fire. And win.
Trey was slapping at the flames with everything he had, and she followed suit. Quickly they had a rhythm going—slap, lift, slap, lift, slap, lift—and with each slap a little bit of the fire gave way.
“Good thing I brush-hogged around here, so the grass is short,” Trey called out, without losing a beat.
“It could be worse?”
“You bet.”
“I can’t imagine.”
“Watch your feet!”
She felt heat sear her toes and jerked back. Black soot streaked her tangerine toenail polish and the crystal stones on her sandals. She suddenly felt dizzy and off balance.
“Are you okay?” Trey quickly stomped out the flames near her feet with his scuffed cowboy boots.
“Yes.” And strangely enough, she did feel better with him so close by her side.
“I’m buying you a real pair of shoes.”
“You don’t have to do that. These are fine,” Misty said, although she didn’t know why she suddenly felt defensive about her footwear. Maybe it was because she prided herself on being practical—usually—not one of those women who dressed in a way that made them appear absolutely helpless.
“Not out here,” Trey said as he looked at her in a way that made her suddenly self-conscious.
“I wouldn’t be here if not for your fire.”
“It’s our fire.” He moved back to his end of the line and beat fast and hard at the flames.
She simply shook her head as she struck the ground again with her towel while she carefully kept her feet back from the flames.
“You’ll need boots next time.”
“Next time!” She looked over at him in horror. Mistake. She felt her mouth go dry. The sun spotlighted him as he raised blackened towels and struck downward. Powerful muscles in his back, shoulders, and arms gleamed with sweat and rippled with exertion. As if he’d been swimming, his faded jeans were plastered to his taut butt and long legs. She shook her head to dispel his image, but nothing helped put out the fire that now burned inside her.
“There’s always a next time.” He tossed a slightly crooked smile her way as he lifted towels to extinguish more flames.
“Oh no.” She hadn’t come all this way to get distracted by the first hot guy who literally crossed her path—even if he did flag her down with his shirt. She particularly didn’t need to get involved with one who was into Christmas and dragged her into fighting a grass fire in the middle of nowhere. She didn’t want to ever put out another fire. This was a onetime deal to help out a man in an emergency and stop a prairie fire from eating up acres instead of one grassy swath. In the future, she would leave firefighting to the experts.
Besides, she was here on business. Texas Timber had hired her as an independent troubleshooter to find out who had burned down one of the company’s Christmas tree farms, and possibly caused other problems. She’d been warned not to trust anybody in Wildcat Bluff County. Now, first thing, she was involved with a local. A really hot local. She couldn’t hold back a soulful sigh. At least she might excuse her interest in Trey as simply business since he might be helpful in her investigation.
“You’re a deputized firefighter now,” he said.
“That can’t be legal.” She attacked the grass with renewed energy. They were actually making good headway now.
“If there’s trouble, everybody pitches in.”
“Police? 9-1-1?”
“We’re the first responders.” He struck hard at the ground with his towels.
“There must be a county sheriff. Highway patrol.”
“And the Wildcat Bluff Police Department.” He stomped at the blackened grass. “How long do you think it’d take help to get here?”
“Good point.”
“We
all depend on the Wildcat Bluff County Volunteer Fire-Rescue.”
“That’s why you deputized me? I’m a total stranger! I could have been—well, big trouble. I actually thought you were, at first.”
“But you aren’t,” he said with another charming grin.
She couldn’t resist cracking a smile back, even despite the circumstances. She shrugged, beginning to understand that life out here was different than in the city.
Sweat trickled down her body. Soot tasted bitter in her mouth. Sunlight beat down on her head. If she came out of this with nothing more than sunburn, she’d be lucky. Yet, that didn’t matter. She was helping stop a fire. She was saving lives and property. She was taking a step toward recovery.
As the flames dwindled in size and scope, she edged toward him. Soon they worked side by side, putting out the remaining hot spots. He loomed well over six feet and made her feel diminutive, even at her perfectly respectable five seven.
Finally, he stopped and stretched his back.
“Fire’s out?” She wanted him to confirm what she saw with her own eyes.
“Yep. Looks good.” He scuffed his boots across the crusty grass. “Can’t thank you enough. If you hadn’t come along when you did—”
“You’d have thought of something.” She interrupted to keep him from saying another word. His melodic voice with the deep Texas drawl couldn’t help but put her in mind of hot, sweaty bodies sliding across cool, satin sheets.
“I needed a miracle and prayed for one the minute I saw the fire.” He walked over to her. “I heard my answer in your car coming down the highway. I headed back to the road, running flat out. And there you were in your pure white SUV, looking so cool and unafraid of the wild man pounding on your window. You had a miracle in your car. Towels. Not many people would have had them just waiting on a back seat.”
She didn’t feel so cool and unafraid. Who had this guy been looking at? Still, his words made her swell with an unusual type of pride. “Like I said, I always do. Just in case.”
He clasped both towels in one hand, and held out the other. “Thank you. You’re my Christmas angel.”
“Just plain Misty Reynolds.” She shook his hand, feeling his strength, his heat, his calluses.
“Pleased to meet you.” He rubbed the back of her hand with his rough thumb, and then slowly released her. “Like I said, I’m Trey…Trey Duval.”
For a moment, she couldn’t remember the polite response required of her. She was caught in the magic of his touch, the mesmerizing sound of his voice, and the unusual color of his eyes, circles of gold, green, and brown. She glanced away to release his spell. “Good to meet you, too.”
“Are you going to be around long?”
“A bit. I’m on vacation.” She hoped her cover story would ring true to everyone she met in Wildcat Bluff.
“Where are you staying?”
Misty hesitated, but Trey really did seem like a good guy. Besides, he’d learn it soon enough from the locals. She decided to trust the instinct that was telling her to trust him.
“Twin Oaks B&B. No website, but I caught a couple of good reviews online.”
“Ruby’s got more customers than she can shake a stick at. No need to promote. That natural spring draws folks.”
“Guess a lot of business is the best promotion.”
He nodded. “It’s usually pretty quiet in Wildcat Bluff. But we’ll get plenty of folks out here for our Christmas in the Country festivities.”
“I’m not here for anything Christmas. I’ve been working hard and need a quiet place to get away.” She didn’t like the sound of festivities. They could complicate her investigation. Still, she doubted a few candles in windows and plastic lighted displays in front yards would draw much of a crowd.
“I’d imagine fighting a wild fire isn’t the best way to start your vacation.”
“True. But how do you think it got started?” Now that the blaze was out, her mind kicked into gear. Did this fire connect with her investigation? It’d be quite a coincidence if it did, but she couldn’t rule out natural causes from the heat and drought. Still, she’d checked topographical maps before she’d arrived in the county. If she remembered correctly, the flames were burning a path straight toward a Texas Timber Christmas tree farm. On the other hand, the blaze had started on a ranch, so maybe it had nothing to do with Texas Timber. Plenty to ponder here.
“Good question.” He squeezed the burned towels between his fists. “I’ll be following up on it.”
“If I can be of help, let me know.”
“Think on it. Maybe you saw something.”
“Or somebody?” she prodded, sensing his implication.
He nodded as he glanced with narrowed eyes around the area.
“Arson?”
“Possibility.”
“I didn’t notice anything unusual, but maybe something will come to me.” She pushed sweat-dampened hair back from her forehead, shelving her questions for the moment. “You must be thirsty. I’ve got bottles of water in the car.” She wished she’d had enough water to help fight the fire, but at least she had enough to ease their dry throats.
“Thanks. I owe you a big, thick, sizzling steak.”
“I thought it was a pair of boots,” she teased before she realized she was flirting with him. She pressed her lips together to stop any other wayward words from escaping her mouth.
He smiled as his eyes crinkled invitingly at the corners. “That too.”
“I’m glad I was able to help.” She spoke as primly as possible.
He held up the towels. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep these.”
She handed over her scorched towel. “Keep mine, too.”
“Guess I owe you three towels.”
“Not at all. Like I said—”
“You don’t need anything from me.” He cocked his head. “But if you’d like dinner, I can grill a mean steak.” Another killer grin.
“I bet you can.” Misty wondered if he meant a date. She felt excited at the idea. She stepped back. If she didn’t get farther away from him, she felt as if she might spontaneously combust.
He took her cue and changed the subject. “Would you mind giving me a ride?”
“A ride?” No excuse for it, but her mind skittered sideways to an image of his big empty bed. So much for changing the subject.
He took a step toward her. “To Wildcat Bluff.”
She couldn’t help but notice his voice held a huskiness that hadn’t been there before. “I see. You need a ride to town.”
“I sent off my horse.”
“You ride horses?”
“That’s what cowboys do.”
“You’re a cowboy firefighter?”
He tipped an imaginary hat.
For more Smokin' Hot Cowboys
check out book 1 in the series
A Cowboy Firefighter for Christmas
On sale now!
Acknowledgments
Lots of folks deserve appreciation and thanks for their contribution to my Smokin’ Hot Cowboys series. Dee, Ginger, Larry, Chester, and Chris exemplify the type of generous business owners who are the backbone of small towns. Marilyn, Shanie, and Shiane inspired my creation of the Sure-Shot Beauty Station. Christina gave me an insightful guided tour of her fancy dually. Ivy and I enjoyed a lively chat about horse and cowgirl coordination for wins in barrel racing. Pharra—all dressed up as a cowgirl princess on her painted pony—was my muse for Storm in the Sure-Shot parade. Rodeo stars Cathy, Miranda, and River Grace continue to inspire my smart, sassy, spunky cowgirls on horseback. And last, but not least, I’m indebted to Brandon, Christina, Luke, Lank, Logan, and Laren for sharing their roping and riding expertise.
About the Author
Kim Redford is an acclaimed, bestselling author of Western romance novels. She grew up in Te
xas with cowboys, cowgirls, horses, cattle, and rodeos for inspiration. She divides her time between homes in Texas and Oklahoma, where she’s a rescue cat wrangler and horseback rider—when she takes a break from her keyboard. Visit her at kimredford.com.
Also by Kim Redford
Smokin’ Hot Cowboys
A Cowboy Firefighter for Christmas
Blazing Hot Cowboy
A Very Cowboy Christmas
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