by Jill Shalvis
“Jake!” Callie searched madly for a sign of him, but saw nothing. She stumbled to the edge of the flowing water. A crack of thunder rocked her back a step.
And then, in the next flash of lightning, she saw them, Jake staggering through the chest-deep water toward her, dragging Smithy along with him. Whirling around, she ran to a tree and tied up the frightened horses, then raced back to the water’s edge. This time she plunged in, sucking in a breath as the cold water hit her like a punch in the chest.
The current nearly dragged her off.
“No. Callie, no!” Jake jerked his head toward shore. “Go back!”
Doing that, waiting, watching him struggle to fight the current and hold on to a flailing Smithy nearly killed her, but the last thing Jake needed was to have to rescue her, too. So she stood her ground for what seemed like an eternity before he got close enough that she could plunge in and help. She grabbed Smithy’s other side, and together the three of them stumbled out of the water, plopping down to the muddy ground.
The rain still came down, and Callie shoved her hair out of her eyes to see. Then she did the same for Smithy, looking down into his face. “What’s hurt?”
“Nothing. Just…can’t…swim,” gasped Smithy.
Jake had dropped to his knees, his chest rising and falling with each harsh breath. “Then you should stay the hell away from water. Jesus, you weigh a ton.”
“Yeah.” Smithy sat up, looking shaken. “Sorry about that.”
Callie couldn’t believe it. “You put us all in danger with that stupid stunt.” She sagged back on her heels and stared at him. “I don’t even have words for you.” She crawled over to Jake and put her hands on his arms, blinking through the rain to see his face, which, as she’d imagined, was full of pain. “Oh, Jake. Tell me what to do.”
He shook his head. She’d have sworn he was sweating, though the air was cold, the water even colder, and they were all soaked to the bone. “Can you ride?”
“Yeah.” He staggered to his feet with her help while Smithy just sat on the ground still looking stunned. “Help me,” she hissed at him.
But once Jake was on his feet, he shrugged them both off. “I’m fine.” He strode to the horses, and with a scathing look at Smithy, Callie followed him. Tongue was terrified, and it took her a moment to calm him down enough so Smithy could mount.
Callie had a wool blanket in her backpack, which she got out. Jake mounted his horse before she could help him and then refused the blanket. Stupid male pride, she thought. Smithy apparently had no pride and quickly wrapped himself in the blanket without asking if there was another one for her.
Disgusted, she mounted Sierra. All the horses were snorting and puffing, and stomping uneasily. She didn’t blame them. She took one good long look at Jake through the curtain of rain but his face was a mask of stone. Good enough, she thought. She turned to look at Smithy, who looked miserable, huddling in his blanket as the rain pelted him. Not good enough.
“Careful,” Jake said to him. “It’s going to be slippery going.”
“And rocky,” she added. “You’ll stay in the middle and do as you’re told.”
“Yes,” Smithy said meekly. “Uh, you don’t by any chance have a beer—Or not,” he muttered when she glared at him.
They rode back with the wind and slashing, freezing rain beating them up. Halfway there, darkness fell, an utterly complete blackness relieved only by the rapid flashes of lightning that seemed to be right over the top of them. Though she could ride back blind-folded, and so could the horses, Callie pulled out her flashlight so she could keep checking on Jake and Smithy.
“I’m fine,” Jake told her every time she blinded him with the light, and she figured he wouldn’t sound so irritated if he wasn’t fine, so that eased her worry a bit.
“I guess the guys are all warm and dry by the fireplace,” Smithy muttered at one point.
“No doubt,” she said. “Probably eating a hot meal, too.”
He looked so sad at this news, she almost felt sorry for him, until she once again glanced at Jake. No matter what he said, his jaw was tight with pain, his body tense. Smithy’s stupidity had cost him the most. He could have dislocated his shoulder, or been swept downstream.…People died out here every year being as stupid as Smithy had been today.
“I’m sorry,” he said, making her realize she’d spoken aloud, and this time, she could tell he meant it.
When they got out of the canyons, they no longer had to ride so closely together. Jake nudged his way close to Callie, letting Smithy get a little ahead. “You okay?” he asked quietly.
“I was just going to ask you the same thing. You holding up?”
“I’m good.”
She studied his face but it was dark, and he was giving nothing away. “Close call, huh?”
He let out an agreeing grunt that said she didn’t know the half of it.
“You saved him, Jake.” She voiced the fear she’d been dwelling on. “What if you weren’t used to such heroics, or if you couldn’t swim? Or if you hadn’t been so quick? I don’t know if I could have done what you did.”
He reached out and touched her wet face. “You could have. You would have.”
She stared through the dark at him. Today had created a bond she hadn’t counted on, and deepened the one they had, whether she liked it or not. “You’re really not hurting?”
“Actually, yeah. I am.”
Her heart stopped. “Want to stop so I can massage it?”
His teeth flashed. “Wouldn’t you like to know where I’m hurting first?”
That should have pissed her off. Instead, she laughed. “You know what? Maybe I don’t.”
Again the flashing teeth, and then he shifted in his saddle. “Christ, how do you do this day in and day out? My parts are so chafed they’re going to fall right off.”
Unbelievably, she laughed again, and when Smithy shot her a hurt look, apparently thinking she was laughing at him, she only laughed harder. “I’m sorry,” she gasped.
“Stress,” Jake said to Smithy, who nodded seriously.
Callie just shook her head, the laughter having relieved much of it. Jake’s presence did that, too, she realized. Finally, they came out of the hills, crossed the plain, and saw the lights of the ranch wavering through the night. The three of them stopped side by side to look at it together. “I’ve never seen a more welcome sight,” she said.
Jake didn’t say anything, and she remembered—it wasn’t a welcome sight to him, and what had happened today had in all likelihood just cemented that for him.
Eddie and Tucker were waiting for them in the barn and took care of their gear and horses. Stone escorted the exhausted Smithy inside and saw to it that he got a hot shower and food.
“You, too,” Tucker told Jake and Callie. “We’ll finish up in here. Go.” He gestured with his chin to the open barn door. The light spilled out into the night, highlighting the glittery silver curtain of rain that still came down.
Jake didn’t argue. He took Callie to her cabin. She opened her door, then put her hand on his chest. For a moment his heart leapt, thinking she would invite him in to take care of him—not that he needed it, but a little fawning would cheer him up considerably. She blocked his way, however. “Go get warm,” she said, then shut her door.
He stood staring at it for a moment, then sighed.
In his cabin, he took a long, hot shower, letting the steaming water beat off his various aches and bruises. Damn, working the land and playing host to a variety of new people, some smart, some not, week in and week out was infinitely more exhausting then he could have possibly imagined.
He wasn’t sure when it had sunk in—possibly when Smithy had nearly drowned them both—but this ranch was more demanding than any job he’d ever had. In fact, this was more than a job, it was a way of life.
He’d have sworn he had the most demanding, unpredictable, difficult job he could think of, but a month out here, and he had to admit he’d bee
n wrong.
He’d always assumed if he ended up here because he couldn’t work, that would make him a loser, but the only thing that made him a true loser had been assuming that the ranch’s way of life was somehow less than his.
The hot water finally dispelled his bone-deep chill and he got out of the shower. He took a good long look at the narrow, hard cot waiting for him as he pulled on warm, dry clothes. Outside the storm raged. He figured only an idiot would go back out. He stepped into the pouring rain anyway and went to Callie’s cabin. He could tell himself she’d been pale and shivering, and he wanted to see that she’d gotten warm and dry, but that was bullshit. He didn’t want to be alone.
She didn’t answer his knock, and when he opened her door, no one was there. “Damn it, Callie.” He headed toward the big house, getting wet and cold—again—crossing the grass because it was faster. Through the rain, Goose came running at him, honking her alarm and annoyance, but he just bared his teeth.
She stopped so short she nearly tipped onto her back, then gave a confused little flutter of her wings, having apparently no experience with being challenged.
He walked right past her and let himself in the big house. The college guys were all in the huge living room, in front of the fireplace, eating and drinking as if they didn’t have a care. Smithy sat in the middle of them all, completely dry and recovered. He waved.
Jake would have liked to wring his neck, but he refrained and headed down the hallway, making Amy squeak in surprise when he barged into the kitchen. She stood at the stove stirring something with a delicious scent wafting from it that made his mouth water.
Tucker sat on the counter across from Amy, eating out of a bowl. “Hey.”
“Hey. Have you seen Callie?”
Amy shook her head.
Tucker looked him over. “You okay?”
Clearly Jake was more tired than he’d thought because that had sounded like real concern in his brother’s voice. “I’m fine. Where do you think Callie is?”
“Hopefully in her cabin asleep,” Tucker said, and Jake nodded, not wanting to set off an alarm, because he intended to find her and put her in bed himself.
He looked in the weight room, thinking maybe Macy had come to give her a massage, but Macy was working on one of the college guys. Jake left, wondering where the hell Callie had gone, when he saw the light coming from beneath her office door. He opened it without knocking, took one look at her sitting behind her desk, and shook his head. “You are shitting me.”
“I’m just—”
“I don’t care what you’re just.” He came around her desk, pulled her to her feet. She’d lost her hat. Her long, red hair had partially dried in loose curls down past her shoulders. She’d taken off her wet sweatshirt and shoes, but was still in her jeans and blouse, which clung to her in a way he might have enjoyed, if he hadn’t been so pissed. “So you took care of everyone but yourself?”
“I was just checking the petty cash, which I’d locked in a different drawer this time.”
“Let’s go.” He tugged on her hand.
“Don’t you care if it’s all there?”
“I’ll care tomorrow. Tonight, it’s you. You’re wet, tired, and still shaking, damn it.” He felt the tremor in her chilled limbs. Shrugging out of his jacket, he put it around her, waited until she shoved her feet back into her boots and led her out of the office and out of the big house.
It was still raining, coming down in long shiny rivers, as if Mother Nature was making up for lost time. And the noise. It was unbelievable how loud the slapping of the water on the parched earth sounded. He figured he’d seen enough rain today to last him a lifetime. “I’m going to kill Goose if she—Damn it.”
Once again Goose came running through the rain honking at them.
“Go night-night, Goose,” Callie said, and unbelievably, the goose walked away.
Jake gaped at her, rain running into his eyes. “How do you do that?”
“I don’t threaten to eat her for Thanksgiving.” She kept moving, her boots striking the puddles on the rain-soaked ground.
“I think of her as my father’s spirit. Yelling at me.”
“Ever think maybe she’s just squawking at you, wondering what took you so long to get here?”
He stared at Goose’s butt waddling away. “No,” he muttered. “I don’t.” But now he would.
When they got to her cabin, she opened the door, and would have walked in alone if he hadn’t kept his hand on her arm.
“I can take it from here,” she said through her chattering teeth and blue lips.
“Uh-huh.” He shut the door behind the both of them, then slipped his arms around her and drew her into him. “Humor me,” he whispered.
“I don’t need help.”
“We’ve already established that. This is for me, not you.”
She shivered again, but put her hands over his, stopping him from removing her blouse.
“I want you to take a hot shower and warm up.” He tunneled his fingers through her hair, clamping her face very gently between his palms. “Go.” When she didn’t move, he shifted closer. “You know what? Never mind. I’m here now, I’ll just warm you up myself.”
And he covered her mouth with his.
18
Jake.”
With a sigh, he pulled back and stroked a long wet curl out of Callie’s face.
“I’m not quite as emotionally challenged as you,” she whispered. “I can’t separate sex and emotion like you can.”
“Hey, give a guy a handicap.” His finger rimmed over her ear now, and her breathing went shallow. Quite a satisfying reaction. “I’m just a little slow, but I’m catching on.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that even I, an emotionally challenged male, can figure out this isn’t just sex. Not between us.”
She stared at him, eyes wide.
“Yeah. Terrifying, I know.” Jake drew her hands down to her sides, then slipped his jacket off her shoulders. It fell to the floor. “Worse than running into a burning building, I’ll tell you that.”
Thunder rolled. In the ensuing flash of lightning, her eyes were luminous. He knew she was afraid of getting too attached. Well, damn it, he was already attached, far more than he wanted to be, so she should suffer the same as he. He dropped to his knees and tugged at a foot until she lifted it. He slipped off one boot, and then the other, tossing both over his shoulder.
“We can’t do this, Jake.”
“Why not?” His fingers went to the button on her jeans. Pop. The rasp of her zipper came next. In the open wedge of the denim he saw sheer black lace and groaned.
“For a million reasons.”
“Name one.”
“Okay.” She hesitated. “I had you already, and I still want you.”
“I want you, too.” He ran a finger over the lace. “I want you a lot.”
“Yes, but you’re…” She seemed to have trouble speaking, so he surged back up to his feet, took her hand, and directed her into her bathroom. There he flicked on the shower and waited for it to start steaming. Turning to her, he put his hands on the buttons of her blouse. She covered his fingers with her own shaking ones. “You’re bigger than life, Jake. You’re wild and adventurous, and everything I’m not.”
“Are you kidding me?” He had to laugh at that. “I’ve been here, what, a month now? Every single day you’re either racing across the rough ground on the back of a twelve hundred pound fickle animal, or you’re shimmying up the hay barn on a rickety ladder, or you’re taking a bunch of stupid kids out into the wilderness. Jesus, Callie. Are you really going to try to tell me your life out here isn’t as wild and adventurous as it gets?”
“It’s real,” she said simply.
“And what, mine isn’t?”
“Your life as a firefighter is real, intensely so. And dangerous, and admirable, too. You’re a hero.”
“But? Because I sure as hell hear a big but at the end of th
at sentence.”
“But when you’re not working, your life is city. It’s women. It’s just having a good time in between shifts.”
“Callie—”
“And if that’s not enough, if you need another reason, then fine.” She crossed her arms. “You’re not my type.”
“Well, if that’s true, then you’ll be left completely unmoved by this.” He slid his arms around her wet body and dipped his head.
“Jake—”
“Shh. It’s just a kiss.” A bigger lie he’d never told. “You’re not afraid of a little kiss, are you, Callie?” He settled his mouth against hers. Deep, wet, and instantly hot, he had her clinging to him two seconds in, but actually, the clinging might have been mutual. Pulling back a fraction, he looked down into her surprised, aroused, frustrated face. “If I’m not your type, then why do you melt all over me when I do that?”
She let out a sound, but didn’t stop him when he reached down to unbutton her wet shirt. She was breathless, and the pulse at the base of her neck leapt wildly. “Damn, you’re soft,” he said. “Sexy as hell, too. I can’t keep my hands off you, Callie.”
Another sound came from deep in her throat, and eyes closed, she slid her fingers into his hair and held on.
Enjoying that, he dragged more open-mouthed kisses down her throat as he slid the blouse off her shoulders. “All you ever wear are jeans and work shirts, and all I ever think about is what you have on beneath them.” He stroked a finger over the black lace bra that matched her panties. Her nipples pebbled against the lace.
Her hands slid from his hair, fisting on his shirt right above his heart, holding on for what felt like dear life.
“Love it when you do that,” he said roughly. “When you make that little sound…”
She made it now, breathing heavily over the sound of the driving rain hitting the roof. He loved that, too, that he affected her so strongly, but he wished he didn’t have to coax her into these hot embraces, into admitting she felt something for him. “Should I point out here that you clearly are enjoying my type?”