by Jill Shalvis
His stomach dropped. His gear was at his feet, he was ready to go. As ready as he got, anyway. He figured Lyndie wasn’t the type to linger over hair or makeup or whatever other mysteries women engaged themselves in every morning. She’d be in a hurry to get back up the hill and see what was happening.
He should be in a hurry as well, but he couldn’t deny that he wished he was sitting on a beach in San Diego, with his biggest concern being the rising tide.
The porch of the inn was wide and cool, and he leaned back against a post. Once upon a time he’d loved this early hour.
Now he typically slept it away.
Tallulah wandered out of the woods toward him, her little legs slowly carrying her. She whined, and when she finally came close enough, he could see why. She was sporting a two-inch gash alongside her nose, just beneath her left eye.
“What did you put your nose into, dog?”
Looking pathetic, she sat at his feet and whined again.
With a sigh, he went into his pack for his first aid kit. “Come here, then.”
Trustingly, she moved closer and a drop of blood fell at his feet. “Poor baby,” he said, and scooped her into his lap to clean her up, which she let him do with only an occasional whimper.
He’d just set her back down again when his open backpack rang. Odd, as he didn’t have a cell phone. He went through the red bag he’d have sworn he’d searched thoroughly by now, and pulled a cell out of an inside pocket.
His brother’s. He lifted a shoulder at Tallulah, who looked as surprised as he, and punched the answer button. “Hello?”
“You okay?” Brody asked.
“This is a new low, even for you, planting your cell phone on me.”
His brother laughed softly. “I was wondering if you’d even know what a ringing phone sounded like, seeing as you’ve been avoiding one for a year now.”
“Don’t you have something more important to do? Say, take a nap? Or maybe find a lake to toss a line into?”
“Nah. I’ve got plenty of time for both later. So…” All humor disappeared from Brody’s voice. “How’s it going? I didn’t sleep last night worrying about you, wondering if I’d pushed you too far too fast.”
“Well, you did. I hope that keeps you up tonight, too. Make that every night.”
“Damn, Grif…It’s that bad?”
“What do you think?”
“I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah. That helps a lot.”
“I just thought if I tossed you in, you’d swim, you know? I didn’t know what else to do.”
Chest uncomfortably tight at the anguish in his brother’s voice, Griffin squeezed his eyes closed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, I was perfectly happy sitting on that beach—”
“Alone.”
“I didn’t need this—”
“Yes, you did. You needed that kick in the ass.”
“It feels like a kick in the heart.”
“Look, we’ve been through all this. Just promise me you’ll use the phone, okay? Call Mom and Dad—”
“I’ve got to go.” Griffin clicked off and resisted the urge to toss the thing into the bush. He purposely blanked his mind, petting Tallulah, listening to the birds…and he managed, too, until unbidden came the lovely image of Lyndie and how she’d looked in the shower, all wet and shiny and alluring.
That worked, too.
Hard to believe that in all this time, another woman hadn’t turned his head, not once. And yet Lyndie turned his head plenty. Hell, she turned him completely around. Almost as scary as what he had to do today.
Fight a fire.
He’d dreamed last night; long, haunting, terrifying dreams, reliving everything that had happened a year ago, and had woken breathless, with the names of the fallen on his lips and tears on his cheeks.
And he had to go back to that hell today. Now he had Brody’s words in his head as well.
Call Mom and Dad…
Damn it. He hadn’t spoken to them in so long…too long.
He’d lost his way back.
Brody wanted to help him. The surprise of that—of his wild, irresponsible baby brother coming through for him instead of the other way around—would have been far more potent if he wasn’t here in this very spot facing his nightmares because of Brody.
He hadn’t called home, and there was great shame in that, but he knew the pain of hearing his parents’ voices would break him. They’d want to talk about what had happened, and he just couldn’t go there, not even for them. Couldn’t relive the incident that had led to so many deaths, not unlike the fire he had to face today—
Footsteps sounded behind him. The denim-covered legs that appeared in his peripheral were tight and toned. “Well, look at that, you’re so eager you’re waiting outside for me.” Lyndie came down the stairs so that she stood right in front of him. “Or maybe you just want to get it over with?”
Her hair was still damp, the fiery auburn strands cut in those short chunky layers that framed her small heart-shaped face. She smelled like strawberries today.
He loved strawberries. “Take your pick.”
“The latter,” she decided. “You definitely have the look of a man who needs out of here.”
The front door slammed again. Rosa came out on the porch wearing a gauzy skirt and blouse as bright as yesterday’s, and carried a tinfoil-covered plate. “You,” she said, and jerked her chin at Griffin. “You are in trouble with me.”
He craned his neck to look around, but nope, she had to be talking to him.
“You did not eat.” She thrust out the plate, which he took rather than see it tip into his lap. Then, standing right in front of him, she put her hands on her hips and waited.
He glanced at Lyndie, who only lifted a shoulder. “She’s the boss,” she said. “I’d do what she says.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not that hungry—”
“Tallulah!” Rosa had caught sight of her dog, and dropped to her knees in the dirt, opening her arms. “Mi querida, what happened to you?” She touched the white bandage beneath the dog’s eye.
“I think she put her nose where it didn’t belong,” he said. “I cleaned it up so it wouldn’t get infected.”
Rosa kissed Tallulah, then looked at Griffin. “You are a doctor?”
“Paramedic training, that’s all.”
“And a true hero.” Rosa gave him a big hug, and Tallulah—still in her arms—licked his face from chin to forehead. “Heroe mio. No way are you going to work all day long without a good solid base.” Rosa pointed to the plate. “That is a good solid base, I cook it myself.”
“Thank you—”
“So eat. And you—” Rosa pointed at Lyndie, whose strawberried lips went from smug to surprise. “I double load that plate. Sit your pretty little butt down next to him and dig in.”
Lyndie shook her head. “I grabbed a few tortillas off the counter. We have to go.”
“It’s not quite six. You’re early enough, the sun just barely coming up.”
Lyndie opened her mouth, probably to give another argument, but Rosa merely pointed her finger to the spot next to Griffin. With a roll of the eyes, Lyndie sat.
He opened the foil. Eggs, beans, fresh tortillas…the delicious scent wafted up and tickled his nose, coaxing his stomach to rumble hopefully. “Rosa, you’re amazing.”
Lyndie let out a snort but scooted her “pretty little butt” closer and grabbed a chorizo, a spicy Mexican sausage.
The door slammed again, and out came Tom, who eyed the plate with interest.
“Don’t even think about it,” Rosa said and held him back. “I just fed you.”
Tom patted his flat belly. “Can never get enough of your cooking, Rosa.”
Rosa patted his flat belly too, and smiled fondly. “Is that right?”
Tom smiled at her for a long moment, then turned to Lyndie. “You be careful up there today with your asthma, you hear me?”
“I’m always
careful.”
Tom jutted his chin toward Griffin. “You watch her, you keep her safe.”
Griffin felt each of those words of responsibility like individual gunshots to his gut. “I will.”
“I’m not Griffin’s responsibility,” Lyndie said. “He’s mine.”
Griffin snorted. “I take care of myself—”
“Uh huh.” She grabbed another chorizo, the last one, and he stared at the plate in regret because though he hadn’t thought himself hungry, it turned out he was.
Her eyes on his, Lyndie fed it to him, her finger touching his lips, making him stare at her as all sorts of interesting reactions occurred within his body.
Tom watched all this and chuckled. “You can take care of each other,” he decided, looking pleased as he once again turned his charm on Rosa. “So are you going to make some of that magical, soul-enriching coffee this morning?”
Still holding Tallulah, she gave him a sideways glance. “Are you trying to charm me because you are too lazy to make your own coffee?”
“Why…is it working?” Reaching out, he pet the dog, who panted happily.
“Not so much.”
“No? Ouch, then.”
Rosa let out a slow, indulgent smile. “You silly man.” She touched his jaw. “You know I always have coffee for you.”
Tom’s return smile was slow and sweet. He started back in the house, then glanced at Griffin. “Oh, and I located another tractor for you. It’ll be up there sometime this morning, after I make the rounds. I’ll come up, too, and lend a hand, or whatever it is I can do to help.”
“Bring the latest weather report.”
“Will do.” He turned back to Rosa, smiled into her eyes. “You take care of yourself.”
“I always do.”
And then he was gone. Rosa went inside, too, leaving Griffin with Lyndie. Alone.
Not a state that he felt comfortable with. “Let’s do this,” he said, and drew in a deep, fortifying breath.
11
You okay?” Lyndie stared down at Griffin.
He looked down at the food on the plate and his stomach turned. “As okay as I’ll get.” He had the most inexplicable urge to tug her back down next to him, slide his arms around her and hold on as dawn continued its rise. Always, he’d loved a woman’s touch.
Until this last year, when he’d felt dead inside.
Now he was slowly coming back to life, thanks to Brody’s meddling, and also thanks to his body’s reaction to this woman. She was hot, sexy, smart, tough, independent…the whole package.
Truth was, he was slowly getting used to the idea of being alive when his friends weren’t, and painful as that felt, he couldn’t deny it. He looked into Lyndie’s eyes. Strong and sure and courageous as anyone he’d ever met, she wasn’t anything like anyone he’d ever been with.
And yet, right at this moment, it was Lyndie he wanted, with all his heart.
Her arm and thigh brushed his. Her hair, still damp and spiky in that cut that should have been too masculine but instead seemed so soft and feminine he wanted to sink his fingers into it.
The wanting became an ache, a physical ache…to touch her, kiss her, to have her touch him back, kiss him back…to obliterate anything else churning inside him.
She was so close he could see himself reflected in her green eyes. He could lean in if he wanted, and rub his jaw to hers. He could put his mouth right on the corner of those strawberry glossed lips and start in, nibbling to his heart’s content.
As if suddenly just a little nervous, she tossed the keys to the Jeep up and down in her hand. “You ready or what?”
Was he?
Loaded question if he’d ever heard one. Was he ready to be far, far away? Oh, yeah.
Was he ready to nibble off that distracting gloss? A double resounding oh, yeah. Ready to get in that Jeep and go to the fire? Hell, no.
But neither was he ready to admit it, so he set the plate aside and got to his feet, snatching the keys from her in midair as he did.
“Hey!”
With a little smile on his lips, he headed toward the Jeep, the ground crunching beneath his feet, pretending they didn’t feel like two leaden weights. Already the day was warm moving toward hot, which wasn’t going to help them any. He started the engine, revved it until Lyndie planted herself in the passenger seat. She’d barely shut the door before he hit the gas.
He was sure she made a comment as her spine hit the back of the seat. He saw her lips moving, but the tires spinning kept him from hearing her.
No doubt, that was just as well.
She waited until they were out of the driveway and on the road. “So today you’re in a hurry. Interesting.”
“A hurry to get it over with. If you’d moved any slower getting in, I’d have left without you.”
A laugh choked out of her as she clicked in her seat belt. “Well, I suppose I’d feel the same way. Not sure I’d have admitted it to you though.”
“Yeah, you would have. You’re the most brutally honest person I’ve ever met.”
“Is that right?” She leaned back, made herself far more comfortable than he could have if he’d been the passenger. “Yeah, I guess I am. I’d sure have told you what was freaking me out by now.”
“I’m not freaking out.”
“Uh huh.” Completely relaxed, she stretched out, hair whipping in the wind. “Whatever you say, Ace.”
He decided he liked her quiet best. Real quiet. “I’m not freaking out,” he repeated.
“So you said.”
They drove in silence through the town, squinting through the smoke and falling ash, over rough cobblestone streets and past centuries-old architecture.
Griffin had checked the weather meticulously before he’d left the house, with Rosa helping translate the radio news. The high today was going to be ninety, with forty percent humidity. Not great—rain would be the only great thing in this situation—but it wasn’t so bad either. Physically, he was as ready as he could be, which wasn’t saying much.
Mentally…he had no idea. And suddenly he did need to tell someone, to confide in what he’d faced last year, what he was still facing. And not just anyone, but Lyndie. He wanted her to know everything. “Lyndie.”
She had her right arm resting on the door as they began the climb above town, fingers tapping to some tune only she could hear. Her hair blew wildly around her face in the wind. She’d been watching the landscape go by, and when he said her name, her fingers stopped tapping.
“About that freaking-out thing…”
She turned her head to face him.
Shifting into a lower gear for the hill, Griffin concentrated on the road for a moment, which was lined on one side with a rock wall, the other a sheer drop-off back to town the hard way. “The last time I fought a fire…” He drew in a deep breath and kept driving. “It all went bad.”
Everything about her softened. “How bad?”
“Pretty damn bad. People got hurt. People…died—”
“Look out!” she cried, just as a coyote darted out in front of them, followed by another. “Don’t hit them!”
He hit the brakes, hoping like hell the coyotes moved in time because he wasn’t willing to die for this.
They turned sideways, and began a slide.
Teeth gritted tight, Griffin eyed the jutting rocks on their left, the sheer drop-off on their right. Some choice, but he’d take the jutting rocks over a fall off the cliff any day.
They spun toward the cliff.
Lyndie gripped the dash for all she was worth and remained utterly silent as the coyotes leapt toward the jutting rocks, vanishing out of sight.
The Jeep continued to slip toward a definite messy outcome.
“Griffin—”
Yeah, he knew, he saw. Desperately he worked the wheel, steering into the slide, letting off the brakes, and finally, finally, the Jeep responded to the gentler touch, swerving away from the drop-off, toward the rocks, before slowly righting i
tself.
Then they came to a dead stop, facing forward as if nothing had happened. Silence reigned. Slowly the dust settled; not a coyote in sight.
Griffin let out a long breath, then looked over at Lyndie. “That was fun.” When she didn’t say a word, just gripped the dashboard for all she was worth, he frowned. “You okay?”
“Dandy.”
He studied her frozen posture for a moment as his heart began to settle. “Because heaven forbid you admit something scared you, right?”
“Plenty of things scare me. Your driving, for one.”
“You’re the one who said not to hit them.”
“Well you shouldn’t listen to me!”
He stared at her, then laughed. “You’re not going to admit to being ruffled, are you? How about if we’d gone over the cliff, would you have admitted it then?”
“Just because I maintain my cool, doesn’t mean I don’t ever get ruffled. I get ruffled. I get plenty ruffled.”
“Well, let me know when, because that I’d like to see.” He shoved the Jeep back into first gear and started again, slower now.
“Griffin—”
“Not now,” he said, scanning the road for more animal life as they moved over the first hill and into the burning landscape. He knew what she wanted, to talk about the Idaho fire he’d started to tell her about. “Apparently I can’t multitask. I’m incapable of driving and angsting at the same time.” And he drove on. Right into the heart of this fire, the one place on earth he didn’t want to be.
12
They made the rest of the drive into the harsh smoke and falling ash in silence. The flames flickered on either side of them now. The air was hot; Lyndie’s mood somber. She was sure Griffin felt just as somber.
Despite the coyote incident, he had one hand sure and easy on the wheel, the other on the gearshift, and used both with a confidence and skill she could admire.
Given how distraught he’d been yesterday, he seemed to be holding up just fine now as they drove into the fire. That is if she didn’t acknowledge the way his jaw kept bunching, or how his tan seemed faded the closer they got. But then again, she already knew he was tough, and a true survivor.