by Anne Marsh
“I’ll follow you back,” he said when she rolled the window down.
“Okay,” she agreed, wanting to reach out and drag him into the car. To say something, anything. Instead, she settled for, “Thank you.”
Maybe Hallmark made cards commemorating the saving of one’s ass by a fireman hottie.
He reached out and ran a thumb down her cheek. “Anytime, angel. Roll the window up in case you hit smoke.”
He turned and walked back to his truck, so she got going.
The way back home had changed every bit as much as the trail. Cows wandered through burned out sections of forest, wisps of white smoke curling around the bases of the trees. Katie could almost pretend it was fog, except the trunks were blackened and the lower branches curled up from the heat. The cows looked good though, avoiding the occasional spot fire.
When she got to her bungalow, though, Tye flashed his blinkers and kept on driving.
Chapter Seventeen
Finding Katie ass-deep in fire had taken ten years off his life. Maybe twenty. Tye didn’t know which, just that she’d scared the hell out of him and he didn’t know what to do with the fear. He’d pulled her into the pond and then he’d marched her back down the mountain. Seen her home.
And kept on driving.
The whole time, however, her words had rung in his ears. I have a bucket list. I love you.
He hadn’t known what to say. Or, rather, he’d known what he wanted to say—I love you too—but the words had got stuck in his throat and there’d been a goddamned forest fire bearing down on them, so her timing sucked. So he’d kept on driving, while he thought things out, and then he’d got to his camper and everything had been suddenly, perfectly clear. He didn’t belong there. He belonged with Katie. Wherever that was. So he’d called Kade, hitched the camper to the truck and moved out.
This time, when he pulled up in front of her bungalow, she was parked in the double swing on the front porch. She had her usual empty spot beside her, the one he’d assumed would be reserved for Kade.
He was all in. If she threw in her cards, he’d have to come up with another plan, but for now he was flying on a hope and a prayer. She watched him maneuver the camper rig into a neat parallel parking job in front of her place and the place was total Americana, right down to the yellow roses blooming by the porch. Strong and Katie were a far cry from Khost. But it could be home. He held onto that thought like a lifeline. The nuts and bolts of his parking job only occupied thirty seconds, and then he was out of excuses.
He got out of the truck, turned and faced the porch. And the woman who had no idea she held his goddamned heart in her hands.
Curled up on the swing, surrounded by mismatched pillows and potted ferns, Katie belonged there one hundred percent. He almost looked behind him for a husband coming up the drive with a couple of kids in tow. And possibly a pet or two or three. His heart squeezed. This was why coming out here had been a bad idea. He had more than enough money to give her the house and the animals, but he didn’t know if he was capable of the emotions that went with those things and made them more than things.
Made them a life.
She watched him come, kicking her foot back and forth. She was barefoot again, he noticed, her shoes kicked off on the porch’s wood planks.
“Hey,” he said, when he got close.
“Hey yourself.” She didn’t move, but she seemed unsurprised to see him. Probably Kade had warned her he was coming. It was good she had someone watching her back. Not that she needed looking out for, but he liked the idea that someone who cared for her was keeping an eye out.
He reached a hand out and pulled her foot to a slow halt. “Is there room for two?”
She slid over without answering and he dropped onto the seat beside her. The padded cushions were still warm from her body, and he took a moment to just enjoy being where she’d been. He’d take what he could get, because he had no idea how this conversation was going to go.
“You came home,” he said and wanted to smack himself.
Hell. That was obvious, which made him three kinds of an idiot, because where else would she have gone? He’d watched her turn into the driveway. He didn’t know what had been said between her and Kade since Kade’s return, but Kade had made it clear that the two of them weren’t a romantic item. Thank God. And Tye hadn’t asked her to stay.
He should have.
He knew that now.
But instead of putting the words out there, he stared. Christ, she looked good. Her tank top was casual and looked comfortable. Nothing fancy, but so damned beautiful, like Katie herself. The straps framed the strong lines of her collarbones and the golden brown skin he’d kissed. He wanted to bury his face in the crook of her neck and kiss her some more.
He definitely should have told her how he felt.
“I have a job here,” she reminded him.
Right. The art lessons. He probably shouldn’t be jealous of a bunch of five-year-olds and geriatrics.
She pushed off with her foot, setting the swing into motion again. The going was slower and harder with him on board, but she clearly was itching to move. For a long moment, he worked the swing with her, enjoying the contrast of his steel-toe next to her bare foot. He was all large and rough where she was feminine and delicate. And, fuck, he didn’t know when he’d started thinking in poetry.
Get the words out. Surely, if he could think them, he could say them.
Nope.
He was an idiot.
He didn’t deserve a second chance. Coming here wasn’t fair to her, not if she was putting her life back together. Whatever had happened between them before Kade had come home was part of the past.
“You look good,” he said finally, when it became clear she wasn’t going to break the silence. In some ways, though, that silence felt right. It was okay to not talk, to just sit and swing. Another day, he’d have enjoyed the sensation. Today, however, there was something he still needed to say.
“Are you leaving?” The question was straightforward, but her eyes hinted at other emotions. Humor? Sadness? Maybe a little of both, although his ability to read her had proved faulty in the past. Fuck it. He didn’t like this distance between them. He moved closer, his shoulder bumping hers, erasing the careful inches she’d put between them.
He’d come here determined to put everything on the line. To put himself out there and, yeah, beg her to take him.
“I wanted to tell you something,” he said roughly.
“Uh-huh.”
Katie’s fingers walked up his chest, and he should have warned her that touching him now was like playing with fire, but damn it, he wanted her hands on him.
“Yeah.” He closed his arms around her, holding her tight. When he rubbed a hand over her back, he could feel the fragile curve of her spine, but there was nothing fragile about this woman. She was tough.
“Tye?” Katie tilted her head back until she could see his eyes. The look on her face was a mix of sympathy and determination. Yeah. She’d take no for an answer, but then this time when she walked she’d do it alone, and she wouldn’t be coming back. If he wanted any chance with her, he had to find the words he’d been avoiding.
Her arms tightened around him, and he wondered who was holding who.
“Past tense?” Her soft question got right to the heart of the matter. “Wanted instead of want?”
“With you, it’s always want. I don’t see that changing.”
“Oui,” she breathed out, but that was all.
***
The swing went forward and backward, and for the longest time they sat, watching night creep in around the house. Mountain nights weren’t afraid to speak up, and the crickets shrilled louder and louder as the dark grew. A train whistle moaned, passing through in the distance, and the toads called back and forth, hunting for mates and sex. Katie snuck peeks at Tye’s face, hard but not so distant now, because he’d been hurt but he’d opened up anyway. Instead of launching into words, s
he focused on breathing.
Which didn’t help. He smelled good, in a way that made her heart squeeze with recognition. Soap and outdoors and hot, hard male. She inhaled again, storing up memories. Too bad she couldn’t bottle him up and bring him out in the years to come, because there were no guarantees she’d get to keep him. Maybe he’d come back, do another summer in Strong, but those were maybes. Not definites.
And yet here he was.
With his camper hitched to the back of his truck.
She didn’t know what to think, but getting her hopes up was a good way to get her heart broken, and she’d had enough pain this month, thank you very much. So she swung and settled and waited.
Eventually, however, his thumb nudged her face up. “Are we okay?”
Giving in to temptation, she leaned into him and met his gaze. The look in his eyes was unfamiliar, full of something she hadn’t seen there before. Or maybe it had been there, and she simply hadn’t recognized it. It didn’t matter. All that counted now was this moment and this man. It was time to take that leap of faith.
“Yes,” she said softly. “We’re okay, Tye.”
“Promise?” He rubbed his thumb over her cheek, slow and steady.
“Are you worried?” She didn’t know what he was asking. All she knew was that his question mattered. “What do you want from me?” She reminded herself to breathe. Maybe his question was nothing more than empty words, a polite sop before he drove off and left her here on her front porch.
“Everything. I want it all, Katie.” He leaned over, shifting closer. “Every inch, every thought. Every night and every morning. Will you give me that?”
The dreamy slo-mo of the swing ceased, and her eyes stung. Don’t cry. He was still new to this emotional-sharing thing, and she needed to break him in slowly. But there was a grin spreading across her face, she could feel it, and maybe that made up for the wet eyes.
“That’s a tall order,” she said.
“True,” he whispered roughly. One booted foot planted on the porch, dragging the swing to a halt, and he pulled her onto his lap. Heat and his arms surrounded her. “But I’m thinking you could handle it, if I gave you the right incentive.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist. “Which would be?”
“Myself. Which is,” he admitted, “pretty damn self-serving of me. I want you to come back with me. Or I’ll stay put here. We’ll work something out.”
“To Uncle Sam?”
“Wherever we decide to go. You’ve got me hard and fast, Katie, and I’m never getting clear. Hell,” he whispered roughly, pressing a kiss against her forehead, “with you, I’m home and right where I want to be. Why would I fight it?”
“Why not?” He had to say it, she needed him to say it, because how often did a girl’s secret fantasies come true while she was sitting on her front porch?
“Because I love you,” he growled. “We’ll go wherever you want. We can come back here if that’s what you need, or we can just never leave.” His eyes made heated promises, and summer spent in his arms sounded just about perfect. His next words were the icing on the cake. “Marry me, Katie Lawson, so we can do this for the rest of our lives.”
Yes. Please.
“Besides, I need someone to help me with my bucket list.” He fished a folded list out of his back pocket.
She took it and bit back a smile. He’d written a bucket list of things to do with her. The over-water bungalow in Bora Bora was definitely something she could get behind. Of course, the more she read, the bigger her grin got.
“Tye, half of these have to do with sex.”
“Yeah.” He grinned at her. “But only half. I have my priorities straight. You can get your swim with the shark fix in Bora Bora. On our honeymoon.”
“You don’t want to sit on my porch for the rest of our lives?” She laughed up at him, because it was that or shriek and cry.
He growled, “Come here, you,” and covered her mouth with his.
His lips muffled her I love you, but that was okay. There was love and tenderness and laughter in their kiss, and they both knew it. Tye might always be a bad ass SEAL at heart, but now he was as much hers as she was his.
Forever.
Driving Chloe Wild: A Smoke Jumper Short Story
The bride by the side of the Vegas highway stuck her thumb out when she spotted his truck. Hitching for a ride, he thought, when she should have been riding high in a limo. A bright red roller bag decorated with polka-dot duct tape peeked out from behind the enormous white mountain of her wedding dress. She shifted as he drew closer, waving her thumb frantically, and he caught a glimpse of pink Converse sneakers. It wasn’t a sight a man saw every day—and that was saying something, since Adrian Henry had spent the last two years working a Vegas firehouse. He’d seen plenty of things, some of which he would have given his right nut to unsee.
From the looks of the bride, she’d had a similar day. Her mascara had run, giving her a raccoon-like look (as the baby brother to three older sisters, he’d been the unwilling subject of far too many make-overs and had learned the difference between waterproof and wash-off when he’d had to go to first grade sporting mascaraed lashes). She wasn’t crying now, however. In fact, she looked angry. Maybe she sensed he had no intention of stopping. He probably wasn’t the first to pass her by, even if the highway was empty now. The dress billowed around her, one of those big puffballs of white and gauzy stuff. Her veil fluttered from the outer pocket of the roller bag.
The only thing missing was the groom.
When he blew on past her, going fifty because he couldn’t put Vegas behind him too fast, she blew him a quick kiss and flashed him the bird. Oh, she was trouble. He respected her fuck you attitude, however. Whatever had happened to her, she’d done her crying and now she was getting on with living. Like him.
His foot hesitated, shifting from the gas pedal to the brake, like it had a mind of its own. Don’t rush in. Not this time. He’d been first into that burning apartment building last month—and the final firefighter out. No more rescues. No more knee-jerk reactions. That was his new mantra.
Lord knew, he shouldn’t stop. But he was a Louisiana boy and his mother would kill him if he didn’t. His sisters would also bend his ear if they ever found out and they’d displayed an uncanny ability to ferret out his misdeeds over the years. He didn’t have time to rescue damsels in distress. He had to be in Strong, California in forty-eight hours to start his new job as a smoke jumper with Donovan Brothers and he needed this new job. His last fire call had been bad. When he joined the jump team, he wouldn’t have to remember finding three small bodies inside that last bedroom. No more structural fires for him, no more riding the ladder, sirens screaming. Sure, he still got that adrenaline rush when the tones went off and every man in the station house ran for the engine, but now he knew there was every chance he didn’t get there in time.
And, sometimes, no chance at all.
Smoke jumping would let him fight fire, but out in the open, him against Mother Nature, jumping right into the heart of the big one from a plane. He liked the idea of that, so much so that when his cousin, Cole Henry, had texted him about the opening with the Donovan Brothers jump team, he hadn’t thought twice. He’d quit his job, loaded his shit into his truck, and headed out of town.
As of this morning, he was starting over, on the road and headed somewhere better. He got the feeling the little gal parked by the side of the road might understand those sentiments. When he looked in his rearview mirror, however, she had her back to him and was staring determinedly down the Nevada highway, back toward Vegas. She’d have a long, hot wait. He hadn’t passed anyone for miles and it was already hotter than Hades. The weather was perfect fire weather, everything tinder dry and ready to spark.
Damn it.
He hit the brakes and stopped the truck. She immediately walked up the side of the road to him, tossed her bag in the back next to his gear, and yanked open the passenger side door. All before he
could get a word out. She was a take-charge thing, half-teary and half-upset, riding that thin edge between righteous anger and an all-night binge with a package of Oreos and two quarts of Ben and Jerry’s. A wise man would have kept on going because a woman like this was going to be holding a grudge against his gender for a long, long time.
“Step on it,” she ordered, like they’d already settled everything between them and he was simply here to pick her up.
She dropped down on his seat, her dress billowing up around them both. White tulle on his arm, his thigh—there was a sea of gauzy white pretty much everywhere he looked. Her dress was one of those strapless numbers, the kind held up by double-sided tape and a whole lot of praying. His eldest sister had explained once that if she inhaled deeply, the whole thing could end up around her waist. Examining his passenger, he decided that might not be a bad thing. The parts of her he could see around the explosion of white were pretty as hell. She was petite, but something about her screamed strong. Her bare arms were lightly muscled, her skin sun-kissed everywhere he looked, thin white lines from a bikini top crisscrossing her shoulders. She also came with a handful of freckles in places he’d like to kiss. Seeing her naked—touching her—would be a fantasy come true.
And that was before he got a good look at her face. He’d noticed the mascara tracks from the road, but now he saw that her blonde hair had been caught up into a complex twist, curls escaping left and right. Someone must have sacrificed a can of Aqua Net to its creation, however, because her hairdo was only half-wilted from the heat radiating in from the outside. When she leaned over and yanked the door shut, he caught a glimpse of a heart-shaped face, with long lashes and brown eyes. She was pretty, not beautiful, but there was something painfully alive and impishly naughty about her eyes. He’d always been a sucker for eyes like hers. He might not believe in love at first sight, but he was plenty convinced in lust at first sight.
