He opened it and stood on the porch.
Spotted her just disappearing into the woods, following the path March had taken.
Wait—what? “Stevie!”
He tied his boots, whirled around, grabbed his pack, and slung it over his shoulder. Then he tucked the pain in his knee back into a place where it wouldn’t slow him down and took off across the yard.
The forest at night turned haunted, the trees outlined in black against a hazy purple darkness. In the clearing, it felt almost like daylight, the sun never quite surrendering, a thin streak of orange over the horizon. But in the forest, the shadows thickened, and while he could make out his immediate steps, the growth of hemlock, towering spruce, and white pine shuttered the light.
Still, he knew the forest—at least the Montana forest—and he could make out a natural trail, perhaps a deer path, and followed it.
Picked up his pace.
He spotted Stevie some twenty yards ahead and sped up.
His footfalls must have alerted her because she turned, fishing out her gun behind her from her belt.
“Whoa, it’s me,” he said, holding up his hands.
Her expression fell. “Tucker. You should be sleeping.”
Wow. And that felt like a slap. He slowed, a little winded, stopping five feet from her. “Right. And let you leave to track down March alone?”
She tucked the gun back into her belt. “I’m a federal marshal. You’re not. And I wasn’t going to do it alone. I was going to radio in when I spotted them.”
It took a second, but, “You took my radio.”
Her mouth tightened. “Your team knows where you are. They would have found you.”
He just stared at her, no words, a heat bubbling up through him that he didn’t know how to put down.
She must have seen it, because, “Tucker, you’re really hurt—”
“I’m fine.”
“Your knee—”
“I’m fine! Yeah, it hurts, but don’t you get it? Someone I care about is out there with a murderer, and I’m not going to stay put while something horrible happens to her.”
“Like your brother or your mom—”
“Yes!” He didn’t mean his outburst. “Yes. Whatever. I’m responsible for Skye—”
“And I’m responsible for you!”
He recoiled. Stared at her. “No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am. I dragged you along—”
“Hardly. I didn’t give you a choice.”
She drew in a breath, and then her expression turned so raw, he couldn’t breathe. “I can’t have you getting hurt because of me. Alone is best.”
“What—?”
“Go back, Tuck. Wait for help—” She turned away.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!”
He closed the gap, grabbed her arm, and whirled her around to face him, maybe a little more forcefully than he intended. But, “Alone is not the best. Believe me, I’ve spent my entire life alone. I used to come home to a cold house every single day, alone. Make myself a pot of macaroni and cheese and eat it, alone. I dated Colleen because of her family—because I didn’t want to be alone. I wanted what they had. Family. And that’s what this team is.” He let her go with a shake of his head. “Alone is not best!”
She glared at him. “Alone doesn’t get people hurt. If I hadn’t dated Chad, then my dad wouldn’t be on the run with a killer right now!”
Tucker blinked at her. “Well, that’s a big leap, but—”
“It isn’t. I knew better than to date Chad. I knew…” She sucked back a breath, shook her head. “I knew he was trouble, and I did it anyway.”
For a moment, he had a flashback of Colleen staring up at him, those same words coming out of her mouth. She knew Tucker was trouble—and dated him deliberately to annoy her mother.
“What do you mean?” he said softly, almost an echo of his old disbelief.
“I mean…I was…well, I was this rough-around-the-edges, backwoods girl liked by the best-looking guy in town. I knew he was a Casanova, that he had a string of girlfriends before me, but…I wouldn’t listen. I was always the tough girl. But I wanted to be the pretty girl, the girl Chad took dancing.”
He tried to sort out this Chad from the previous jerk.
“The reason Chad and I were fighting in the parking lot that night wasn’t just because he wouldn’t take no. I was angry because I found out he had a girl on the side.”
Nope, same guy. Tucker shook his head. “Chad was a real piece of work.”
“Yeah, well, if I hadn’t been so needy…”
“It’s not needy to want to be loved.” He touched her arm. “You can’t judge every man by one, Stevie,” he said quietly.
She drew in a breath. “I know—”
“I’m not Chad.”
She nodded then. “I know. You’re not trouble.”
Oh, well. Yes, yes he was. Or had been and might still be, because then he let slip the words he probably shouldn’t have said. The words that made him cut his voice soft. “And, by the way, you are pretty.”
She stared at him. Swallowed, so much emotion in her eyes. She might as well have asked, Am I?
Aw. Shoot. Because all the feelings she’d roused in him earlier had flashed over.
“Yeah,” he said, in answer to the question she hadn’t asked. “Really pretty.”
He hadn’t meant to move, but somehow he found himself closer, her back to a birch tree, those pretty eyes holding his. “And I’ve been wanting to do this since I saw you in the Midnight Sun.”
He stopped just a whisper from her lips, his gaze searching hers.
Yes. She didn’t exactly say it, but her eyes flicked to his lips—
Whatever simmered between them for the past twenty-four hours ignited. He wound his hand behind her neck, pulling her mouth to his, and dove in.
She tasted like the protein bar, smelled of smoke, and turned to fire in his arms. Kissing him with the same delicious fierceness that she possessed when she’d charged up the hill to save him from Rio or flew down a cliffside on a motorbike. Hold on, whatever you do.
Oh, yeah.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to himself, feeling her body mold against his. And when she lifted her arms and curled them around his neck, he realized it was a good thing she’d run out of that cabin and away from the bed.
Because the temptation to roll over and for a good long moment escape into her embrace might have been too much.
As it were, she kissed him with the same all-out, all-in passion that he was beginning to realize embodied just why Vic had called her trouble.
Yeah, his heart could be in big trouble here. Because for the first time, he’d met a woman who didn’t see him as trouble, but as her hero.
And he hated to admit how good that felt.
So he ignored the warnings and let himself surrender, just for a moment, deepening his kiss, letting the midnight sun fall around them in soft shades of lavender and gold.
Because no, she wasn’t going anywhere without him.
Seven
Oh, this was going to end badly. Stevie knew it in her gut. But still she sank into Tucker’s kiss, the way he cupped his hand behind her neck, the way he angled his kiss deeper. He was fire and the depths of a periwinkle night, power and determination and everything she wanted to cling too.
Despite her better sense.
Despite knowing this could only end with at least one of them—if not both—regretting this moment.
But he had such a strong, work-honed body, such delicious shoulders, and yeah, she hadn’t been kissed like this, well, ever.
As if Tucker might know exactly what he was doing.
And that thought stopped her, pushed her hands to his chest.
He let her ease away, his breathing hard as he looked at her.
And she must have worn something of her regret in her expression because he stepped back. “What? Oh…I thought I was reading you…I’m sorry, Stevie
.”
Yeah, see, and that’s how she got in over her head. Because her brain said one thing, but her pitiful, weak emotions screamed another. She gave a hard chuckle, nothing of humor in it. “Oh no, you were reading me right. Which I’m sure you’re plenty good at. But…we…this is a mistake.”
“What do you mean…plenty good at?”
She walked away and headed into the woods. “Nothing.”
“It is something. What do you mean—”
She couldn’t look at him, her face hot. “Just that you probably have plenty of practice reading women, and I…I’m not…I’m…”
He scooted up beside her, then in front, turning to walk backward. “Plenty of practice?”
“Well, you mentioned Colleen, and the fact you were a snowboarder—an Olympic snowboarder—”
“I didn’t make the team—”
“Not to mention a smokejumper, so I’m pretty sure you had a plethora of girls.” She pushed past him.
He touched her arm. “Stop. Please.”
It was the please that had her. Soft, and a little hurt, and yeah, she heard her own words.
She sounded like a jealous middle schooler. “Sorry. I just…this is silly. We have no future, Tucker. I shouldn’t have…” She stopped but shook her head.
“Okay, let’s start with the plethora of girls.” He ducked his head, searching for her eyes. “I had a few girlfriends before Colleen. But when I met her, it was different. We were in high school, but she was…she wasn’t like the others, and I really wanted her to like me. When she broke up with me my freshman year, sure I was hurt, but I had my eye on competing, and there wasn’t a lot of room there for any…extracurricular activities. I was hurt and angry and grieving my mom, and I wasn’t a good guy then. Nobody wanted to be around me.”
Something like regret flashed across his face in a wry smile. “And then I started to go to church with Jed and a few of the other guys when we were home, and…well, I’m not the guy you apparently think I am.”
Perfect. Another one of her trouble-making skills. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“Okay, so let’s talk about why you think this is a mistake.”
“We have to find March.” She pushed past him, stalking through the forest.
He turned, hot on her tail. “I realize that I didn’t declare my undying love before kissing you. But I really like you, Stevie, and…”
She looked up at him. “And what? You want to move to Alaska? Build a life with me?”
He drew in a breath. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
She stared at him. “Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Don’t…don’t make me want to trust you. This can’t be anything.”
“Why not? What are you so afraid of?”
She shook her head. Kept walking. No, no—
“Stevie. I like you. You like me. What if—”
She rounded on him. “No what-ifs!”
He recoiled.
“Listen. You are a good man. I can see that.”
His eyes held hers, and for a moment, she felt the crazy tug to step back into his arms. But, well, “Some people were made to be alone.” Her throat thickened. “I’m one of them.”
She turned away, kept walking.
“Stevie—that’s…why?”
“It’s how I was raised, Tucker. I was taught that you couldn’t depend on anyone but yourself. If you did, you were setting yourself up for…well, if not disappointment, then death.”
“Death?”
She glanced at him, aware of his limp, and wished he’d stayed back in the cabin.
Sorta. Because the midnight sun left eerie shadows creeping through the woods, and with the cool tongue of the wind in the trees and the rustle and moans embedded in the wilderness around her…
Maybe, right now, she could be glad for someone to soften the steel edge of the eternal Alaskan burning sky.
Still… “Yes, death. This is dangerous country, and if you don’t know how to take care of yourself, you could find yourself alone, in a snowstorm. Or facing down a grizzly. Or—”
“You faced down a grizzly?”
She lifted a shoulder. “It’s no big deal. That’s life in Alaska.”
They had come to a divide in the path, the deer trail diverging. She considered the paths a moment, then— “This way.”
He followed her. “How do you know?”
“My dad taught me to look for clues. Like trampled forest. And broken limbs.” She fingered the stripped leaves of a spindly poplar.
“Archer taught you how to survive in the woods.”
“He’s not Daniel Boone or anything, but yeah, he gave me ample opportunity to learn to fend for myself.”
Tucker fell in step behind her as the path tightened. She brushed past thick spruce and fragrant cedar, her footfalls soft on the thick pine loam. He went silent long enough for her to glance back at him. He was frowning at her. “Were you caught in a snowstorm too?”
“Of course I was. This is—”
“Alaska. You said that. Did your dad leave you alone in that snowstorm?”
“That wasn’t really his fault. Mom and he went to town—and got stuck. I got snowed in.”
“For how long?”
She bent to consider a darkened patch. “I think someone is bleeding.”
He bent beside her.
She picked up a wet leaf. Smelled it. “It’s still fresh. Smells tinny.” She handed him the leaf as if in proof.
“Maybe March got shot,” Tucker said.
She didn’t want to mention that he hadn’t seemed shot when he was on top of her, trying to kill her.
“So, how long?” Tucker asked when they got back up.
“How long—?”
“The snowstorm. How long did you have to fend for yourself?”
“Once, five days. I was about thirteen, I think.” She held a branch so it wouldn’t slap him. “It was early in the season, and some deer came through the yard. I decided to track them. So I went out and I shot a buck. A big one.”
“You shot a buck.”
“I’ve been hunting since I was about nine years old. But this was…well, my first one. I wanted my dad to be proud of me. I field dressed it and started to pack it out when I heard this grunting.”
They had come to a clearing, and she stopped.
He edged up behind her, his body close, the woodsy, smoky smell of him hot and solid behind her.
She ignored it.
Then he put his hands on her shoulders. And what was she supposed to do with the way heat streaked through right to her core, his voice low and close to her skin? “What was the grunting, Stevie?”
She swallowed. “A bear. A grizzly. It had followed the blood smell.”
He drew in a breath. “What happened?”
She could practically feel his heartbeat through his grip on her. And it compelled the truth from her. Her voice fell, caught, and she was again right there, the air crisp, the snow bright and crunching under her feet. The odor of her kill rising, the heat from the carcass warming under the high sun. And the grizzly, a feral smell souring the air, claws so sharp she could feel them slice the air as the animal rose.
“I…completely froze. I didn’t even think to drop the pack. I just turned and froze. The bear was about twenty feet away, and I had my gun, but I… But I just… I kept thinking, What if I miss? I’ll only make it worse.” She shook her head, cleared the image away. “He would have mauled me if suddenly someone hadn’t shot him.”
“A fellow hunter?”
“My dad.” She walked away from Tucker, escaping the memory. She turned and met Tucker’s eyes. “He was shouting, ‘Shoot the bear! Shoot the bear, Stevie!’ But I just froze. So…he did it for me.” She blew out a breath. “I was so relieved…until I realized how furious he was at me.”
“For not staying home?”
“No. For not shooting the bear. And rightly so. I should have been braver. Stronger. Sm
arter.”
Tucker just blinked at her. “Are you kidding me? Stevie—you were thirteen years old. You were nearly mauled—”
“Yeah,” she said, nodding, and found the words, the ones that girded her. “Old enough to take care of myself. But I learned that day that there would be a day when no one is there to save me. And I have to be ready for it.” She turned back to the clearing. “It looks okay.”
She stepped out, her heart banging, but no shots, no sounds.
Tucker followed her in silence until they came into the other side of the meadow.
When they reached the forest, however, he grabbed her arm and turned her, such a dark earnestness on his face that it rooted her through to her bones.
“Stevie, listen to me,” he said, his voice a low, almost desperate rumble. “Maybe your dad was just as scared as you were. Maybe he was completely freaking out with the idea that you were nearly killed.”
She shook her head, the thought— “No, Tucker. My dad doesn’t get emotional. Besides, he—”
“Doesn’t love you that much?”
She looked away. “Love is weak.” She couldn’t believe she’d actually admitted that. But, well, “It’s vulnerable and scary, and frankly, there’s no room for weakness out here.”
Tucker said nothing for so long, she looked back at him. He was staring at her with those brown eyes that had so much power to unravel her, her throat simply tightened. She tried to break away.
He wouldn’t let her. “Stevie, you couldn’t be more wrong. At least I hope so because I’ve seen love—the kind of love that holds families together. The kind of love that doesn’t give up, even in the face of danger. Love gives us power, makes us risk everything we have, everything we are. Love is not for the weak. It’s for the strong.” He put his hands on her shoulders, a tenderness in his touch. “And I want that kind of love someday.”
She caught her lip, hating how much his words wheedled into forbidden places.
“Listen. You’re not in this alone. And that day…that day when no one shows up? It’s not today. Because I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
But, no. “Tucker—you mean well, I know it. But…you can’t save everyone.” She gave him a tiny smile. “And I don’t need saving, remember?”
Light My Fire: Christian romantic suspense (Summer of the Burning Sky Book 1) Page 10