Love Burns

by Babette James

  No waterskiing this year. Maybe ever. Well, not the same. He’d been mulling ways to get back up on the water. He just had to experiment until he found what would work. Only, relearning to ski guaranteed falls, and the falling shit…The unending anxiety knotted in his chest. Hell.

  No more jumping. The permanent damage to his leg and back made that a real never. Or, as one wiseass doctor had joked, he could jump all he wanted, just couldn’t ever land.

  No more firefighting. No job. No more hands-on, head-on fighting the beast that haunted his oldest nightmares.

  No more running. No more a lot of shit. Ever.

  Rattling shakes and nausea ambushed him. He pressed the beer can to his forehead, focusing on the cold, sweating aluminum and fighting for control. He’d always figured he was too hardheaded to get PTSD, but hello hell.

  No one had done anything wrong on that last flight. Couldn’t even blame an arsonist for the call-out. Mother Nature had screwed them all the way, from the dry forest and lightning-sparked fire to the capricious winds that had downed them.

  Shit happens. People die. Pull your act together, Knight.

  Right. He was a little fucked up, but he was alive and on his boat on a beautiful July day. Gonzalez, Nash, and Miller weren’t so lucky.

  None of this solved the complication of Olivia. Every sight of her soft lips, those deep eyes, shot him right back to Vegas and those stolen kisses. This was the wrong time in his life to want a woman. Later, when he’d pulled his shit together. Olivia was through and through the wrong woman to want.

  But damn it, logic didn’t stop the wanting.

  Chapter Four

  The next day, as Dave relaxed with his friends in the late morning heat, he could almost pretend life was normal. Sleeping better last night helped mute the biting, black irritation.

  Except Olivia was finally avoiding him. This, perversely, hurt. Yep, he was the nut job.

  At the moment, she sat off to the side in the shade of a canopy, engrossed in a novel, and serenely oblivious to the rowdy twins running in manic, giggling circles, playing some sort of tag where they both were “It.”

  Nate shook his head at the boys. “Damn. Wish I had their energy.”

  “Bottle that and solve the energy crisis.” Rich grinned and popped a fresh soda.

  Christopher stretched. “How goes the job hunt, Dave?”

  The dreaded job question. One that tied him in screaming knots. How could he resign himself to a support job, to a desk, to the ground?

  He swallowed against the bitter surge. “Early days, but hell, all else fails, I can always come work for you, Lloyd, right?”

  Lloyd winked. “Still know which end of a hammer hits the nail?”

  Dave laughed, and a rush of happy and sorrowful sentiment followed: Dad teaching him to use the woodworking tools, the rich resinous scents of the shop, the transformation of rough timber into a gleaming cabinet, box, or table, Dad’s joy in his craft—

  Anger flared and seared. Fire had stolen everything.

  “But what do you want to do?” Nate pinned him with a dead serious gaze.

  He had no answer. All he saw was the granite wall of fate stopping him in his tracks. The hard, dirty, and dangerous job had brought him an irreplaceable, soul-deep satisfaction. Yes, the jumping and heavy physical labor would have ultimately taken its toll on his body, but he’d been injury-free until last year, and his knees had been in good shape. None of his long-term career plans had included an end to his fighting fire.

  Reining in the anger, Dave shrugged and refilled his cup with iced tea. He needed to accept reality and focus beyond the loss. He was breathing, so there were options. Just none of the options appealed. He swallowed a long cold mouthful of tea to loosen his throat. “I have time. Once I get home, I’ll send out résumés. Talk to people. All that shit.” He sounded pretty casual for choking on anger.

  “Uncle Dave’s it!” That twin shriek was his only warning as the two sandy tornadoes launched into his lap, sending his iced tea sloshing, sharp, skinny knees nailing his abdomen and groin.

  Dave sucked in a pained laugh and set aside his cup. They’d been much smaller the last time they’d taken over his lap. “Hey, guys, easy does it.”

  Sam tugged on Dave’s shirt. “Come play ‘It’ with us.”

  “Boys, get off Uncle Dave! You ask first!” Patti waded out of the water, hands on hips.

  “No ‘It’ today, guys.” He winced and settled them into less dangerous positions. “I’m okay with my buds here, Patti, but hel—” He caught himself and cleared his throat. “Heck, what have you been feeding them?”

  “We’ve grown—” piped Ryan.

  “Lots,” Sam finished.

  Ryan nodded and loosened his hug around Dave’s neck. “We clean—”

  “Our plates. Peas—” Sam settled more safely onto Dave’s thigh.

  “Carrots and everything!”

  Dave grinned, his gloom fading under the happy energy of the squirming boys. “Yeah, definitely important to eat every carrot and pea on your plate.”

  Sam and Ryan doubled over with giggles. “He said pee on your plate!”

  Patti groaned. “Thanks a lot, Davey, my old friend. Like they need more bad jokes.”

  Dave grinned.

  “Hey, guys, look this way and say cheese!” Nate called out.

  Dave and the boys automatically looked. Nate snapped their picture.

  Sam tugged on Dave’s shoulder. “Wanna come and play with us?”

  “We can dig for treasure,” Ryan added.

  “Sure.” At least the boys wouldn’t question his progress, problems, or plans. “Hop off.”

  They scrambled off, and he followed them to the water’s edge.

  Sam tugged on Dave’s trunks. “How come you’re walking funny? That why you can’t play ‘It’?”

  “I had an accident.”

  Frowning thoughtfully, Sam eyed Dave’s scars and nodded. “Me too. Wanna see?” He raised an impressively scabbed knee, chin, and matching elbows. “Me and Ryan borrowed Jimmy Cleaver’s skateboard. I stood up the whole way down the driveway almost.”

  The boys tore around gathering shovels, pails, and toys. Ryan won the dig location debate and stuck his shovel in the wet sand like Columbus claiming the New World.

  Dave eased himself onto the sand beside them.

  Sam handed him a yellow shovel. “Here’s yours.”

  Their excavation proceeded peaceably, and JoAnn joined them, sitting Daisy between her legs in the shallows. Daisy smacked the water and played with her toes, babbling happily. JoAnn and he chatted and dug with the boys, who declared their growing pile of colorful pebbles pirate’s treasure.

  When a huge horsefly began harassing them, the boys abandoned digging for fly hunting, chasing after the pest in noisy, crazy circles around the beach. The fly landed on their slumping sand castle.

  Sam smacked down his toy shovel. “Got him!”

  Sure enough, one crushed fly feebly twitched on the sand.

  “He won’t hurt Daisy now.” Sam whacked the fly again. “Got him dead!”

  Ryan peered closely, wrinkling his nose. “Yep, dead. Fly guts. Gross.”

  Grinning broadly, Sam scooped the smashed fly onto his shovel and trotted off to toss the tiny corpse into the bushes.

  Dave studied his wrecked leg and assorted scars from the crash. Raising his face to the blue sky, he took a long pull on his iced tea and focused on the sunlight pleasantly roasting his skin and the cool water washing around his feet. Truth time—what did he have to bitch about?

  Think about last December, when you couldn’t walk.

  Think about last November, when you were pissing into a bag and couldn’t wipe your own ass.

  Think about last October, when Nate thought he’d be arranging a funeral.

  Be grateful.

  Hell, yeah, he’d been lucky he didn’t end up like that smashed fly. His guardian angel had logged some serious overtime on his last f
light and the early days of his hospitalization. Yeah, he had some interesting scars, aches, and pains, but he was alive and walking, and even had all his original internal organs. Awesome, considering he should be dead. Technically had been, momentarily—

  Damn it, he was grateful. He was fine, but mentally…shit. He was so fucking tired of this anger.

  “Hey, Dave, hold Daisy a minute for me?”

  “Sure.” He set aside his cup.

  JoAnn settled the wriggling Daisy into his hands. He froze, stunned by a mess of sensations and the realization he’d never held her before. Heck, had he held any baby? Had to have, but this was weird. He saw so much of JoAnn and Lloyd in this squirmy little girl: Lloyd, the goofy kid he’d known, and JoAnn, the wide-eyed slip of a thing who’d rocked Lloyd’s world.

  Daisy shot him a wobbly-lipped, wide blue stare from under her sunhat, torn between this strange person holding her and her departing mom.

  He bounced her on his good leg. “Hey, munchkin, not going to cry on me, are you?”

  ****

  Entranced with Dave and the children, Olivia hadn’t taken in a single page of her book. His back was to her, making spying on their play safe and easy. His vile mood had vanished, as if a whole new man had shown up. Not even the man from last summer. This one was patient, funny, and wholly focused on the kids and their play. He dug with the boys and built sand dribble towers. He taught the boys how to skip pebbles across the water, seriously discussing which pebbles skipped best, and cheered on their efforts.

  When JoAnn handed Daisy to Dave and walked off for a bathroom break, Olivia expected a distressed screech, but Dave just bounced the baby and sweet-talked her into her play of smacking the water and cheery shrieks and babbles.

  She was so in trouble. Dave of last year had been fascinating, overwhelming, and enough of an arrogant jerk that being intrigued from afar was perfectly safe. Now? Oh, yes, trouble.

  JoAnn joined her. “He’s awesome with the kids, isn’t he? Just amazes me.”

  Olivia nodded. “Yes.” Amazing. Confusing…

  “Since Daisy’s happy there without me, want to set up lunch?”

  “Sure.” She set her book aside without marking her place.

  “I was worried he wouldn’t join us this trip. He’s not himself. He’s become such a hermit lately.”

  But which self was the real Dave Knight? Mr. Arrogant, Mr. Grumpy, or the gentle man playing with the kids? She scrambled for some general reply. “He’s had a lot to handle, just healing. He’s made amazing progress.”

  “I know. I know. Maybe it’s me not adjusting to the changes.” JoAnn blinked against glittering tears, smiled and straightened her shoulders. “Today’s coleslaw, tuna sandwiches, chips, apples, and grapes.”

  They headed over to the two tables under the canopy serving as their kitchen center. JoAnn had everything neatly organized, down to the containers of water under each table leg to keep ants from exploring the food.

  JoAnn abruptly hugged Olivia. “I’ve said it before, but I’m so glad you’re here with us.”

  “Me too.” She was, despite the wild confusion Dave stirred in her at every glance.

  “I meant to ask, how’s your uncle doing?” JoAnn pulled the tea jug from the cooler.

  “Good. He’s stubborn and refuses to slow down, but he admitted the changes in his meds are helping, and he’s cooperating in watching his salt and sticking to a diet. He has checkups set with his cardiologist and pulmonologist while I’m away, so we’ll see.”

  Uncle Jake was five years younger than Daddy, but he had more health problems. As much as her parents pushed for her to come home, they were relieved she was there to give him a hand.

  “Lloyd’s dad is giving us the same problem. The man thinks he’s indestructible. Hello? Heart attack? Time to wake up and take better care of yourself. Between his dad, Dave, and Daisy Elizabeth, I’ve been worried to pieces about Lloyd. Crazy, crazy year. I vote no more crises for a long, long time.”

  “I agree.” She stole a glance at Dave and the kids, her resolution rapidly melting.

  JoAnn poured two iced teas and raised her cup. “Here’s to a better year.”

  Olivia tapped cups. “Amen.”

  Margie and Karen joined them, and the easy lunch was soon ready.

  “Come and get it!” JoAnn called out.

  The twins came running, the adults fast on their heels. Daisy rode comfortably in Dave’s arms and played shy when JoAnn held out her arms.

  Dave laughed, his face settling into a relaxed grin, and he sat at the shady end of the table, bouncing Daisy in his arms and setting off baby giggles.

  “You’re a natural, there.” Christopher grabbed a handful of chips. “How did a confirmed bachelor like you get so good with kids?”

  “Because he’s never grown up.” Patti patted Dave’s cheek as she headed to her chair. “Still a kid himself.”

  “Dave always could sweet talk the girls into anything.” Nate grinned. “Lloyd and I were jealous as hell in high school and college. The man has skills.”

  “Maybe he can sweet talk her into eating all of her lunch and taking a nap.” JoAnn set Daisy’s lunch in front of Dave. “Consider it practice for someday when you have one of your own.”

  Dave studied the little bowls of baby food and vinyl-coated spoon. “Not in the plans. Honorary uncle’s good enough for me. But, hey, how hard can it be?” He settled Daisy into the crook of his arm, smoothly as if he’d done the move a thousand times.

  A pang stung Olivia. Dave didn’t want children. Another reason to stop this useless fascination.

  JoAnn shook her head. “You just wait and see.”

  Dave scooped a dab of food and grinned at Daisy. “Girls like to be wined and dined. The right words, the right mood, the right moves—Don’t you worry, Daisy, honey. When you grow up, Uncle Dave will teach you all you need to know on how to handle boys like me.”

  Daisy grinned and gurgled happily.

  “Yep, you’ll have those boys twisted round your little finger with that smile.” He popped the first spoonful in Daisy’s mouth. She swallowed and grinned again.

  Lloyd groaned and slapped both hands to his face. “Kill me now. The thought of her anywhere near boys like you? Hell, yeah, just kill me now.”

  Dave chuckled wickedly and fed Daisy another spoonful.

  Between bites of the sandwich Kay built for him, Dave steadily fed and sweet-talked Daisy until she’d finished every bit of her cereal and fruit. He even had Lloyd’s one-handed bottle holding down on the first try.

  Lloyd refilled his iced tea. “Beginner’s luck. So not fair. Daisy, baby, if you love your daddy, you’ll spit up on Uncle Dave.”

  She just grinned, belched daintily, and set to work at her bottle.

  “Not luck at all.” Dave smiled at Daisy. “Pure talent.”

  “Pure talent with the bullshit.”

  “Hey, talent is talent. Whatever gets the job done.” He wrinkled his nose. “Whoa, new diaper time here.”

  “How’s your talent with diapers?” However, JoAnn was already standing and reaching for Daisy.

  “That’s what parents are for. Uncles get to pick and choose the fun stuff.” His laughter rolled as he let JoAnn scoop Daisy from his arms.

  Dave’s better mood stayed through the day, and Olivia was happy for him and his friends. All the same, she kept her distance, and he ignored her in return. Being ignored was far better than those scorching angry glances.

  A moody, arrogant man who has no interest in a child of his own is the last thing you want or need. Frankly, you don’t need any man right now.

  Dave Knight was like chili: tempting, spicy, and guaranteed indigestion. All her energy and focus needed to be directed toward rebuilding her life and learning the bar business from Uncle Jake. Later, she could welcome a new relationship. This time she’d hold out for someone with whom she could find the affection and respect she saw between her parents, someone who wanted a family, someone w
ho kept his promises.

  She needed to refocus on her goals for this trip: relax, have fun, and enjoy her time with her friends.

  “Hey, Livie, ready for cocktails?” Patti raised the bottle of tonic water. “It’s four o’clock and I’m pouring.”

  Olivia sipped the last of her water and held out her cup, pleased how her glance didn’t dart to Dave. “Sure. Thanks.”

  She could do this.

  ****

  Dave awoke with his nerves jumping like he’d already drunk a potful of coffee as the earliest gray of dawn crawled over the Black Mountains. Around him, only Scott’s pillow-muffled snores broke the camp quiet.

  So much for yesterday’s hint of peace. Rolling back to sleep wasn’t happening this morning. He shoved off the cot and quietly waded out to scrub cool water over his face. Push-ups and sit-ups to burn through the pressure failed. He needed to run.

  Choking from the swelling tension in his chest, he scowled at the weak, ruined leg. Maybe if he walked, just got moving.

  After dressing, he scrawled a note: Taking a hike on the southwest trail. Be back around lunch. D.

  He pinned the paper under the coffee pot, tucked two water bottles in his daypack, slapped on his hat, grabbed his cane, and struggled up the steep, slippery trail. At the top, he paused, pissed his leg already needed to rest. From this vantage point, he could observe the two sleeping camps. Envy snarled. He should have found peace here, but Olivia was here.

  No, none of this was her fault. He’d brought his own miseries. He turned. Time to walk off this black mood before he saw his friends today, no matter what.

  But the trail wound over a jagged, multi-colored mosaic of broken rock, slippery with gravel and sand, hampering the steady pace he needed. Jutting stones waited to trip his feet or snag his cane and toss him into the nearest cactus clump. He once could take any trail at any speed, without a care. Now, every flipping step required planning. The familiar landscape was no longer a pleasurable companion but an opponent.

  A tiny cairn of stones marked the turnoff to the southwest trail, a faintly worn burro track across land cast in cool grays. A whisper of common sense poked at his attention.

  Maybe you should take the simpler trail to Coyote Point.