by MJ Fredrick
She reddened at his scold and accepted the bag he held out to her.
“Thank you,” she murmured, humbled by his generosity.
“No, dear.” He smiled at her, taking away some of the sting of his earlier gruffness. “Thank you.”
*****
Gabe didn’t see Peyton come into the rustic bar and grill. He searched for her as the other firefighters dragged tables together and sat noisily around them. The exposed redwood beams, the rusty metal signs advertising products no longer manufactured, the peanut shells on the floor made the bar appear to be carved from the mountain itself. They were the only customers. A young waitress, the only one on duty at this mid-afternoon hour, greeted them with an armful of menus and a cheery smile.
“You must’ve just got on,” Gabe remarked as he took a menu.
“I get off in two hours.” He almost missed her wink as Peyton walked into the dining room. She’d shed her yellow shirt and was wearing a cheap ill-fitting tourist T-shirt. The shoulders of her T-shirt were dotted with water and droplets fell from the end of her ponytail. He grinned. She’d gone and finished washing her hair in the restaurant bathroom.
Now she sat shivering at the other end of the table as the waitress took their drink orders.
“I’ll take a longneck.” Gabe’s order was echoed around the table.
“Coffee,” Peyton said through chattering teeth.
“Coffee’ll just keep you awake,” Gabe warned as the waitress walked away.
“As if anything could,” she muttered.
“Hey, Gabe, you going to tell us what happened out there?” Kim shouted from across the table when the waitress returned with their drinks, all but the coffee.
He knew this was coming, the price he had to pay for his reputation. He’d downplay this, not wanting to add to his legend. The only one to dispute him was Peyton, and she didn’t appear to have the energy. He squared his shoulders and lowered his eyes to the beer label. “It got pretty hairy for a while there.”
“Tell us what happened,” Mike urged.
“God, it must have been something.” Howard’s voice held a touch of longing, like he’d missed out on something.
Gabe glided his beer across the puddle of condensation on the scarred table, from one hand to the other. He felt an odd reluctance to share his latest adventure, a reluctance beyond having his ass pulled out of the fire by Doug. Telling the others what had happened on the mountain was like revealing something that needed to stay private.
Peyton watched him, her eyes hollow with fatigue, dark with an emotion he couldn’t identify. What would she remember as he told their story?
So he told about their run from the camp, their stay in the cave, their separation from the helo. He skimmed over their time on the mountain, their night in the tent, though, damn, those were the things that stuck in his memory the strongest. Peyton’s bravery, her determination. The feel of her in his arms. He moved on to the blowup, holding her gaze as he spoke of the run for their lives, the impact of the slurry. He skipped the kiss, but saw the memory of it in her eyes. He wanted to skip over the bit about Doug, but they’d all seen him escort them to camp. And a few had been with him long enough to know their relationship.
“The smokejumpers showed to escort us home, late as usual.” Gabe wasn’t ready to give Doug any credit, and his crew made sounds of agreement.
“I wish I’d been there,” Kim said, awe in her voice, toasting him with her beer. “I knew you’d be the hero of the day.”
Damn, he hated that word. “This week,” he muttered, reaching for his beer.
Peyton hadn’t thought she’d be cold again after working up on the fire line, so she wouldn’t complain in the air-conditioned restaurant. The place was probably quite comfortable when crowded, but miserable for someone in a damp T-shirt and wet hair.
She warmed her hands around her coffee cup and wanted to dive in. Her tremors were almost uncontrollable, her sandwich falling apart before reaching her mouth. Part of her problem was fatigue. All she could think of was how good a bed would feel.
She watched Cooper with his crew, saw he was almost humble before them. When Dan had gotten with his SWAT buddies, there had been a lot of chest beating, a lot of testosterone. Gabe, on the other hand, sat with his arms folded on the table, his concentration mostly on his beer, and he listened more than he talked. When he had told the story, he’d almost seemed embarrassed. That was so at odds with what she knew of him, and it only made her want to know more.
To distract herself, Peyton turned her attention to the man sitting beside her. Howard, the sawyer who’d worked with Gabe cutting down the trees the day before yesterday. A good-looking kid with buzzed blond hair and twinkling blue eyes.
“You had quite an adventure on your first fire assignment,” he remarked, saluting her with his beer, like he envied her.
Of course. That was probably why he was here too. For the thrill of running for his life. And she’d gotten it instead of him. She’d almost exchange the experience with him.
Almost.
“I don’t think I’d care to relive it,” she said.
He laughed. “Don’t kid yourself. You’ll be telling your great-grandkids how you escaped the dragon.”
“If I live long enough to have any.”
He laughed again, more heartily, a big, booming laugh.
She shifted to face him, intrigued by his friendly attitude all of a sudden, after the rock incident. Had the mountain been some kind of initiation? And if she had passed, did that mean she was part of the group, though she didn’t plan to stick around?
Her job was solitary for a reason. She’d been an only child after the death of her sister, left alone by her mother after her dad moved out, left to her own devices. Once she’d reached adulthood, she’d gone from job to job, not quite fitting in, never a part of something bigger than herself.
Until Dan.
And again now.
“So why did you become a Hot Shot?” she asked.
He pulled himself straight and grinned. “No choice. Dad was one, Grandpa was one too. I grew up hearing about the summer battles.”
So thrill seeking was genetic, unlike ambition. Good thing she and Dan never had kids, if that was the case. Being married to an adrenaline junkie had been hard enough—being mother to one would be a nightmare.
“So you’re following a family tradition.” She tried to infuse her voice with some cheer.
Howard laughed. “God, I hope not. Grandpa was on the Mann Gulch fire, have you heard of it?”
She had. Just the words sent a ripple of fear over her skin. “Back in the 40s, where the fire blew up the gully and killed—how many?”
“Thirteen, because they wouldn’t go into the burnout of the escape fire the foreman set. They thought he’d lost his mind,” he answered before she finished the question. “And Dad was at Angel Ridge. So was Cooper.”
“God, the one in Colorado where all those Hot Shots died?” She looked past Howard to Gabe, who was surrounded by his crew. Sensing her gaze, he met her eyes, held them.
Beside her, Howard nodded. “They had to identify some of the bodies. Dad said he wouldn’t go out on a fire again. He never did.”
But Gabe did, after seeing that. No wonder he didn’t understand why she walked away when jobs got tough. As others talked to him, Gabe continued to watch her, and she didn’t turn away. It was as if he was daring her to.
What had he seen up there? She could only imagine what fire could do to a human body, had come too close to finding out firsthand today. But Gabe had returned, again and again. Why?
She gave her attention to Howard. “And yet you decided fighting fires was for you.”
He grinned, his eyes holding some interest. But his grin did nothing for her the way Gabe’s did. He was just a boy.
“What can I say?” he teased. “It’s in the blood.”
Peyton bit into to her sandwich, considering. What could make a man see the consequences
of that brutal death and face it every day? Had he been thinking about Angel Ridge today when they were running for their lives? She sought him, only to discover he’d left the table.
One of the Hot Shots dropped coins in the jukebox and whining steel guitars and twangy lyrics filled the place. The cracked casing did nothing to dull the sound. Some of these crazy kids actually had the energy to get up and dance.
“Here.”
A sweatshirt was shoved beneath her nose. Gabe stood over her, holding it out. She gazed up at him stupidly. Only a few hours ago, they’d been the only people in the world. As she sank her fingers into the soft fabric, she felt that connection, wanted to cling to it.
“Go take off your wet shirt and put this one on.”
“I’m fine, thank you.” She let go of the shirt.
“Your lips are blue.” He tapped his finger against his own mouth and pushed the shirt closer. She snatched the sweatshirt from him with an embarrassing lack of grace and coordination, and stood. “You’re probably just going to walk in again.”
“Nah, I saw what I wanted to see,” he drawled with a wink that was little more than a reflex.
“And you’re welcome.”
“Where was this last night?” When she’d invited him into the tent to keep warm.
“In the van.”
“Good place for it.”
At her snippy tone, Gabe lifted his eyebrow. Kim, more than a bit tipsy, surged forward and linked her arm through Gabe’s possessively, glaring at Peyton. “Let’s dance, big guy.”
He glanced down at the girl with an amused smile, then followed her onto the scuffed wooden floor, but kept his gaze on Peyton like he didn’t want to leave her alone.
She turned away, digging her fingers into the warmth of the thick sweatshirt, part of her regretting the interruption, another part of her grateful for it. She locked the outer door of the restroom, but went into a stall, just in case.
The shirt smelled like the man when she pulled it over her head, musky and smoky. Though Gabe wasn’t much taller than her, his sweatshirt fell to the tops of her thighs and the sleeves covered her hands. She fisted them in the material, warming her fingers.
She left the stall and inspected herself in the wall-length mirror, swallowed in another man’s shirt.
God, he was like Dan, reeking of testosterone, drawing people to him. Everyone had admired Dan.
The pain came, still sharp after nineteen months, and she rubbed the heel of her hand against the football emblem over her sternum. When Dan had been at work, which was most of the time, she’d kept close to him by wearing his shirts. After he died, she’d continued the practice until the fabric no longer held his scent. The implied intimacy of wearing another man’s shirt almost made her take the sweatshirt off. Maybe the warmth was the deciding factor, but she couldn’t convince herself that was all.
She was wildly attracted to Gabe Cooper. She was a grown woman, a widow for almost two years, alone all that time. Cooper was movie star handsome, with an athletic body that came from hard work instead of a gym, sexy eyes that snapped with intelligence, and he rescued women and children with stunning regularity.
The problem was, that wasn’t what attracted her. God help her, his courage was what drew her, the courage that carried him into the forest to bring fifteen girls to safety. That had brought her to safety. The trait made him the man he was, made him the man she couldn’t have.
She was determined to never get another phone call telling her the man she loved wasn’t coming home.
If she went to the front desk and rented a room, snuggled under a pile of covers, she could block out the sounds of the party, the uncomfortable thoughts of Gabe Cooper, of her new feelings for him, the fear of being alone with him now that they were in civilization.
The party was just getting started when she emerged from the bathroom. More fire crews had arrived, and the poor little waitress was running her tail off. Peyton made her way through the yellow-shirted men and women to the table, only to find her barely touched plate had been cleared.
She edged toward the bar and waited to draw the waitress’s attention.
“I want to get a room,” she told the now-harried girl.
The young woman tossed her head in the direction of the dance floor. “We just rented out the last one. Sorry. You want to pay the tab?”
Peyton reached for her money. “Sure. What is it?”
The number the waitress named floored her, and she dropped the money on the counter.
“Why so much, exactly?”
“They said you were paying for the whole table.”
“Who said?”
“The redhead.”
Of course. Kim really had it in for her, and after seeing her with Gabe, Peyton understood why. Jealousy was an ugly thing. “She was mistaken.”
The waitress grimaced at her in sympathy. “Are you a rookie?”
“Pretty obvious, huh?”
“Just a joke I’d seen played before.” The younger woman swept her with a glance. “Funny, I didn’t think Gabe Cooper took rookies.”
Wow, even the waitress in this tiny town knew his reputation.
“Don’t worry about the bill.” She waved Peyton off. “I’ll get it divided up.”
“No chance on the bed, though, huh?”
“Sorry.” The waitress moved off, her arms loaded with plates again.
Great. So now she was tired, stranded and bedless. It wouldn’t have been so bad if Gabe hadn’t gotten her hopes up. She’d ask for the keys so she could sleep in the van. At least it would be quiet out there.
Gabe and Kim still danced, backing around the floor in shuffling steps, his hand at the small of Kim’s back, his thumb stroking mindlessly. Peyton followed the movement of his thumb, felt it against her own back.
Their hands were clasped and folded between their bodies, Gabe probably not thinking about what the gesture would mean to the girl. He laughed at something she said and his eyes crinkled handsomely even as he hid his teeth.
No wonder Kim was in love with him. The attention he gave had to make her feel like the only woman in the room. Kim rubbed her free hand up and down his arm and Peyton could almost feel the contour of his muscles beneath her own palm. Memories of last night, pressed against his body, safe in his arms, resurfaced, flooding her with longing.
If only she’d had the courage to turn in his arms. Kim would have.
All thoughts of finding a bed left as she watched them. The waitress brought her a beer and she slid her fingers over the condensation on the bottle as smoke and noise whirled about her. Yellow shirt after yellow shirt asked her to dance, like they were betting which man she’d accept, but she brushed each off. She had one thing on her mind. One person, one overwhelming need.
As a slower song played, Gabe parted from Kim with a shake of his head. Kim did a little bounce of frustration, trying to convince him, alcohol loosening any inhibitions she might ordinarily keep in place so Gabe wouldn’t see her true feelings. He just smiled, shook his head again and turned away. He moved with such confidence Peyton couldn’t take her eyes from him as he led with his shoulder through the crowd.
Firefighters and locals alike stopped him at every table, congratulated him, offered him beer, quizzed him about his narrow escape. She liked the way he brushed off the adulation, as if his skill and know-how had no bearing on the outcome of the day. Since when could Gabe Cooper be humble? She never saw evidence of it when he dealt with her.
“Hey.” He reached the bar and edged closer to her than necessary. “Hanging in?”
The scent of smoke clung to him, probably was a part of his DNA after so many years on the fire line. She’d attributed the odor to the place, and now would always recognize the scent as Gabe. He was so close she couldn’t take a breath without smelling him. It didn’t stop her from breathing.
She tried to shift away for her own sanity, but the bar was too crowded to go far. “No. I left my will to stay upright on the mounta
in.”
His low, sexy laugh curled around every nerve in her body, coaxing them to the surface of her skin, where they shimmered with anticipation.
“Good thing we don’t have far to go.” He dangled a motel key from his fingers. So he’d gotten the last room. And he wanted to share. “The room’s right upstairs. Thought you might enjoy a long hot shower.”
For God’s sake, a thirty-two-year-old widow should be able to control her blush. Was she embarrassed because the bartender overheard, or because a gorgeous man handed her a line?
That was all it was, right? A fresh line? God, she couldn’t think with his thigh pressed against hers.
“One room?” she asked, and hated the shakiness of her voice.
“That’s all they got. Take it or leave it.”
“Do you come with it?”
He smiled into her eyes, amusement and arousal a breathtaking blend. “Is there a problem?” “I don’t—”
Before she could answer, the bartender set an unordered bottle of beer in front of Gabe and he glanced up questioningly. The bartender pointed to a table of local men who waved when Gabe looked their way. He saluted them with his bottle and took a long drink. Peyton was so close to him she could feel him swallow.
“Dance?”
The twang of music had changed to something softer, slower, sexier. On the dance floor, couples shifted closer together. Her body hummed at the thought of being up against all that maleness. It had been so long.
Time to step into the fire.
The minute he folded his hand around hers, she could imagine the rough skin of his palms on her body. She wanted him to smooth away the goose bumps his touch raised.
What the hell was she doing? She knew where this would lead.
He eased them through the crowd to the dance floor and turned her to him with just a shift of his hand on hers. She faced him for a beat before putting her hand on his shoulder, willing it not to wander, and he put his hand on her waistband, under the hem of the sweatshirt, and slid a finger through an empty belt loop to anchor her. The possessiveness of the move sent a shiver of longing through her, and she struggled to mask it.
