Coming In Hot

by Carmen Cook

  Her eyes got bigger, if such a thing was possible. “I just bought that car. How am I going to get home?”

  “Sorry, honey. You aren’t going anywhere in this car. We need to get you back to the house to get you cleaned up and make sure you aren’t hurt worse than it seems. Once we’re sure you’re okay, I’ll take you home.”

  “But— ” She started to sit up, smacking her already abused forehead against his chin.

  “Ouch.” Gavin sat back on his heels. “Are you trying to finish the job that pine started?”

  Regan had her hand on her head, staring at Gavin. “S-sorry,” she stuttered. “I’m so sorry.”

  She looked so pitiful he had to fight the laugh that threatened to spill forth. “It’s fine.” Getting to his feet, he held out his hand. When she hesitated, he tried to offer some reassurance. “Really, Regan. Everything’s okay, but we do need to check you out. Clean that cut on your cheek, put an ice pack on the lump on your head, get your nose to stop bleeding. Plus anywhere else you might be injured.”

  Her hand flew to her nose and she used the fabric of her sleeve to stanch the flow. “You mean like my pride?”

  He smiled. “Sure, I have a special ‘pride’ bandage I can give you.”

  She made a sound that sounded like a snort, but it was hard to tell with her sleeve held up to her face. With her free hand, she reached up to take his offered hand. When he gave her a tug to stand she sucked in a breath and leaned into him as soon as she had her feet under her. He didn’t want to think about how much he liked the feel of her against him, especially under the circumstances. “I think you are hurt worse than you look,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  “You okay, Gavin?” Calvin Walsh, the Sapphire Creek fire chief and Gavin’s closest neighbor, stood several yards away on the other side of the downed tree. “I’ve already called it in, but do you need help? Is she okay?”

  Gavin glanced at Regan, who offered a small shake of her head. “I think we’re okay, Cal, thanks.” By the time Cal turned back, Regan was muttering to herself.

  “All I wanted to do tonight was unpack enough boxes to find a corkscrew,” she told him as he caught up with her.

  “I have a corkscrew,” he told her. “I even have wine to go with it. I’ll pour you a glass when we get inside.”

  Her back was stiff, and she looked miserable. Not that he could blame her—she was banged up and her brand-new Mini was currently buried in foliage as well as banged up. That sucked, no matter how you looked at it.

  Gavin tried to be gentle as he led her back toward the house, dodging broken tree limbs, glass, and other assorted debris that littered the area. When they got to the door, he paused to look around, trying to judge if any of the other trees nearby were in danger of falling. To his untrained eye, everything looked solid. As solid as could be, anyway, with the incredibly high winds once again pounding at everything as it cut through the valley.

  It had been an unusually dry summer, which had followed an unusually dry winter. Now, with nearly a full year without enough precipitation or snow pack in the mountains, many of the trees were all in danger of being uprooted. Thankfully, the house had avoided a direct hit from the falling tree, nestled back from the road as it was in a little grove.

  This older area of Sapphire Creek, less than a mile from a popular park that led down to the lake, liked its privacy. It was technically outside of town, so things weren’t maintained the same way they were in the town limits. Plenty of trees that had been there for a few hundred years, which kept the lake-goers away from the neighborhood, gave the area a distinctive rustic feel. It was just one of the things he loved about the location. The downside was that they still had aboveground power lines, and that tree had taken them down. It didn’t happen a lot, but often enough that he was prepared.

  Gavin got Regan back inside and led her into the dining room. They had another twenty minutes of sunlight if they were lucky, so he needed to put a rush on things. “You stay put and I’m going to go grab a first-aid kit,” he told her as he lowered her into one of the dining room chairs.

  A loud smack echoed through the walls as wind and debris lashed against the house again. Regan jumped, her fingers digging into his arm. Shit. “Hey.” He squatted so they were nose to nose. Slowly, so not to startle her even more, he reached up and placed his hand on the back of her neck, applying just enough pressure to get her attention through her panic. “Look at me. Everything is fine, okay? We’re inside, but I need to get that first-aid kit so I can clean out your scrape and check to see if you’re hurt anywhere else.”

  He waited for her nod before he double-timed it back to the master bath, grabbing his duffle on the way past the front door and down the hallway toward the bedrooms. He took a minute to toss the duffle containing his wet clothes from his earlier unscheduled swim on top of the washer before he started rummaging under the sink for the kit. “It has to be here,” he muttered.

  After pulling the kit out from all the other junk he’d shoved under there, he took the opportunity to take off his shoes, which were still damp after he’d slipped them on after the unscheduled swim and then his unscheduled shower. He’d had extra clothes in his truck, but no shoes. He was going to have to remember to stash a pair in there. “Fucker,” he mumbled, remembering the jackass who had taken him into the lake in the first place.

  Gavin hoped the idiot’s father would do something about him. Like send him to Antarctica. Anywhere, just so long as he was out of Gavin’s hair for the rest of their stay. At least he’d been able to change clothes after his swim.

  Grabbing a set of sweats for her, Gavin padded barefoot back to the dining room where Regan was sitting at the table, right where he’d left her. The lingering smells from his abandoned meal made his stomach rumble and he finally saw a spark of something other than fear in her eyes, her faint smile making her look younger. “You should eat,” she said finally. “The kids wanted you to have leftovers, so there’s probably enough for a week at least.”

  “Leftovers are a staple around here.” He set the first-aid kit on the table and pulled another chair closer to where she sat. “They’ve learned that nothing beats leftover night. Especially if it’s pizza.” He gently placed the ice pack against her forehead, wincing in sympathy as she flinched.

  She closed her eyes. “Pizza does have a great way of being better the next day.” The inane conversation seemed to be settling her down, so he kept up the small talk.

  “And pasta. Why is it always better the next day?” He picked up her hand and gently moved it so she was holding the ice pack.

  “It’s the seasonings,” she said, her voice soft but strong, stoking him as though she actually reached out and brushed his skin with her fingers. He sucked in a breath and tried to focus on what she was saying. “They settle into the sauces over time. Makes it better.”

  Tucking her hair behind her ear again, he gently prodded her cheek. “You like to cook?”

  “I like to eat,” she told him with a wry grin, looking more alert. “I learned to cook so I could eat what I wanted without having to break the bank. There wasn’t a lot of extra for those types of things while I was in school.”

  “This might sting,” he warned her, wiping some antiseptic over her cheek before squeezing some disinfectant onto a bit of gauze and gently smoothing it over her cut. She hissed in pain. “Sorry.”

  “No, it’s okay. I’m okay.” She was blinking back tears and he tried to think of something, anything, he could say to take her mind off the stinging in her cheek.

  “So you left here and went to college. What did you study?” he asked, pulling butterfly bandages out of the kit and cutting them into smaller, thin strips. For all they’d talked that distant day, she’d never said what she was going to do when she got out of school. Had, in fact, gone out of her way to avoid the subject, so he’d left it alone.

  Her eyes were tracking his hands, not missing anything he was doing. “You don’t know?” When he shook his
head, she smiled. “I’m a nurse, actually. I worked in an orthopedic office while I was in Chicago. I just got back from a year in Central America—Honduras—working with kids and their families. Teaching them about nutrition, helping them get healthy after the severe drought they’ve experienced the past several years.”

  “No shit? That sounds intense.” From what he’d heard, health care professionals were the worst sort of patients, but other than watching him like a hawk, she was letting him take care of her. And he wanted to take care of her, he realized. More than anything. Swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat he asked, “How am I doing?”

  She let out a huff of a laugh as she jerked her gaze back up to his face. “Pretty good.” She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, appearing indecisive about something. He kept quiet, letting her chew on whatever it was that she was thinking about while he continued to apply the bandages and ice she needed.

  Not that she was hurt that badly, thank God, but once he was done with her he’d get the generator running and make sure they had light and heat once it got dark. His gaze drifted to the window, where he could see the setting sun barely visible above the treetops. Shadows stretched across the room, but she hadn’t seemed to realize yet that the tree had taken out the power lines when it fell. He needed to move quickly.

  “Are you hurt anywhere else?” He focused on her face again, trying not to stare at her lush lips or how her breasts were straining against her torn T-shirt. The realization that he wanted to get to know her again settled around him. What did surprise him was the urgency he felt with it.

  He couldn’t let her walk away again. Not without exploring whatever this spark was between them.

  When they were kids, she’d made it clear she had no time for anything that might stand in her way of getting out of Sapphire Creek. He remembered how determined she was. Nothing was going to keep her from getting what she wanted. It was an insanely attractive quality for a teenager, especially for one who had no idea what it was that he wanted himself.

  And then, one night, she’d wanted him. It was a memory he’d carried with him for years. She was someone special. He’d known it then and he was just as sure of it now.

  That spark of determination was still there, but it was buried. Buried so far that it was barely visible anymore. More than anything, he wanted to know what had happened to bring her back to Sapphire Creek.

  Because he was watching her so closely he noticed her wince as she shifted her weight in the chair. His gaze immediately dropped to her hips, where she was obviously listing to one side. “I need to check out the rest of you,” he told her, scooting his chair back a bit. “Go ahead and get out of those clothes. I’ll get you some sweats, a shirt, and another ice pack. Be right back.”

  Her indrawn breath stopped him. Once he realized what he’d said, he couldn’t keep his lips from twitching. “I need to make sure there’s nothing worse than a bruise on your hip and leg. What did you think I meant?”

  “I don’t get naked on the first date,” she said absently. There was only a heartbeat of silence before heat started to flood her cheeks and she started stammering. “That’s not what I meant.”

  Gavin had to bite back a grin. “This is a date? I’ve gotta say, it’s not one of my better ones, letting you get so banged up. I’m going to have to up my game a bit.”

  She continued to sit, tilting slightly to her left to keep her weight off her right hip, but crossed her arms across her chest, saying without words that she wasn’t interested in being ordered around. “Or,” he continued when it became apparent that she didn’t have any intention of moving, “we could have a candlelit dinner.”

  That seemed to startle her out of her reluctance. “Why would we have a candlelit dinner? Why would we have dinner together at all?”

  “Well, if this is a date, we might as well have dinner. Why don’t you go change clothes while I make our plates?” He turned and moved back toward the kitchen before continuing to explain. “That tree that knocked you down took out the power, too. We should eat before it gets cold.”

  “What?” He tried not to take the horror that dripped from her words personally and nodded at her as he pulled another plate from the cupboard.

  “Yeah. So, dinner while it’s still sort of hot and candlelight so we can actually see once the sun dips behind the mountains, which should happen in another few minutes.” He deliberately didn’t mention the generator. “That sounds more like a real date anyway, doesn’t it? Unless you really want to go home right away. If so, I’ll get you home.”

  “It sounds like the best offer I’ve had in a long time,” she admitted, relaxing a bit. “And since you already told your ex we’re dating, we might as well have dinner.”

  Gavin shot her a wink and handed her the sweats she could change. While she was in the bathroom he loaded up their plates and headed back to the table. He made a return trip to the fridge to grab the Chardonnay his sister had opened last time she’d come to visit and a couple of glasses just as the sun sank behind the mountain, blanketing the house in darkness.

  Abandoning the wine at the table, he moved to the sideboard to dig out some candles, hoping that there were some still stashed there. If not, he’d have to give up the romantic lighting and fire up the generator. Even as the thought crossed his mind, light flooded the drawer he was digging through. Regan was standing at his shoulder holding her cell phone, the flashlight app activated.

  When he turned his head she wiggled the phone. “Maybe we should forget the candles and grab a MagLite instead.”

  Chapter Five

  Regan stared across the table, her thoughts a jumble. She was having a hard time accepting everything that had happened. Everything from the past year—every betrayal, every feeling she’d pushed aside—threatened to come tumbling out. And what a mess that would make, she thought with a soft snort. Searching for an anchor, she focused on the fact that she was sitting across from Gavin McCabe, his face awash in the glow of the flashlight standing upright in the middle of the table while they finished eating.

  She was going to ignore the fact that her car—her precious Mini, purchased only a couple weeks ago—was buried under a tree. Crushed beyond recognition.

  Ignore, too, the fact that she ached from head to foot. Because, well, that same tree had damn near taken her out along with her car, so it was normal to feel a bit beaten up. The thought of the various bruises developing in colorful splashes made her wince.

  The entire day had been a roller coaster of emotions she hadn’t been prepared for.

  “Now what?” she asked, taking a sip of the wine. “The storm sounds like it’s getting worse.”

  “It does,” Gavin agreed, taking another bite of his food, making a satisfied sound deep in his throat that had her mouth watering in response. Just one more thing she was going to ignore for now.

  Gavin continued talking, oblivious to her roiling thoughts. “I’ll get the generator going as soon as we finish dinner. Then we can make sure you’re not hurt any worse and decide from there.”

  “I’m fine,” she assured him. He didn’t say anything, just tilted his head. Compelled to fill the silence, she continued. “A little overwhelmed.”

  “It’s been a full day,” he said, nodding.

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  “So tell me,” he ordered in a soft tone she found hypnotic.

  Regan shrugged slightly and took another sip. The wine was crisp and fruity, its flavor exploding across her tongue. Shadows stood in stark contrast to the illumination from the flashlight, the wind and branches striking a violent beat against the house.

  Yes, it had been quite an eventful day. Hell, an eventful year, but Gavin didn’t know that.

  “Regan.” His voice was soft, drawing her from her thoughts. “Talk to me.”

  “A lot has happened lately. Not just…” she paused, trying to come up with the appropriate word, but nothing came. “This.” She waved her arm, indicating
the dark room, Gavin, and everything that had happened in the past couple of hours.

  Placing what was left of his kabob back on the plate, he shot Regan a look. “Are you okay?”

  She knew he wasn’t talking about her bumps and bruises this time. “I will be,” she said, completely serious. There was no doubt she’d come out ahead. She wouldn’t settle for anything less. No matter how overwhelming things felt right now.

  Gavin held her gaze for a long second before nodding and returning to his meal. Regan blew out a breath, not wanting to think about why her heartbeat ratcheted up around him. It was like she was fifteen again and catching a glimpse of him without his shirt on.

  Regan smiled at the memory. It had been right before Gavin had left for the Army. She’d gone to Gwen’s house—she couldn’t even remember why. She’d never paid much attention to Gwen’s brothers, but that day she hadn’t been able to tear her gaze away from Gavin. He’d been everything her adolescent dreams had been able to think up.

  And he hadn’t even noticed her.

  Shoving the memory away, she started to slide the meat and veggies off the skewer and onto her plate. Her aching jaw and her split lip made chewing difficult, but the flavor soon hit her tongue and she couldn’t hold back the small moan of pleasure. “This is so good.”

  Gavin’s eyes flew up to hers. “I thought you made this.”

  “I did,” she said, nodding, stuffing another bite in her mouth. “But it’s been a while since I had it.”

  “You didn’t try any while you and the kids were cooking it?”

  “No. We’d only just finished cleaning up when you got home.”

  He put his fork down and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands across his flat belly. “Were you planning on eating some before I got home?”

  “Sure. I didn’t know how long you’d be and I was getting hungry.”

  Silence fell between them while they both ate. Initially, it was the comfortable silence, but after a couple heartbeats it changed. The silence became heavy, like another person had entered the room and changed the dynamic somehow. “Do I make you nervous, Regan?”