by Tawna Fenske
“The sky’s nice, too,” he said, grinning.
Kayla laughed and kept shooting. “Look at those mammatus clouds,” she said. “Over there above the tree line.”
“Boob clouds,” he said with a reverence that made her laugh. “Those are my favorites.”
Of course they were. And of course a guy who spent so much time in airplanes would be familiar with the names of clouds. She loved that about him—that he knew to stay back and out of the shot while she worked.
Clicking a few more images, she moved to a clearing a few yards away. A gust of wind stirred a patch of clouds near the mountain’s base, shifting the kaleidoscope of color again. So beautiful.
“I haven’t seen a sunrise like this in years,” Tony said behind her. “Not even on fires, when the smoke makes the sky all smoldery and golden.”
“It’s those high cirrus clouds over there.” She pointed to a patch of red so bright it looked photoshopped. “The sun’s hitting them without interference from dust or smoke or anything, and the little ice crystals in the clouds are reflecting all that red light from the sun.”
He turned in a circle beside her, Fireball’s leash wrapping around his leg. The little dog moved with him, tail wagging the whole time. “Guess that cold front moving through has an upside, huh?”
“I love how it’s changing by the second.” She fired off a few more shots and turned again. “Oh! Those are perfect.”
“The burned stumps?”
“I love the way they catch the light.” She gasped as a bird fluttered down and landed on a charred branch.
Still clicking, she wondered how she’d ever capture the magic of this moment. The symphony of birdsong, the cottony shreds of cloud snagging on the treetops. All of it—every charred branch and lichen-dusted rock took her breath away.
“Can I do anything to help?” Tony asked.
“Watch to see if I drop anything,” she said, pretty sure she’d lost a lens-cleaning cloth a few feet back. “Thanks.”
“No problem. I like watching you work.”
Something stirred in her belly, a warmth that had nothing to do with the slowly surging sun cresting over the treetops. The light was changing fast now, each moment revealing fresh swaths of color. There—that charred ponderosa on the cliff up ahead. She could already picture it framed on her bedroom wall, the explosions of red and gold glinting behind glass. For as long as she lived, she’d remember this moment.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Tony said. “And I’ve seen a helluva lot of sunrises.”
“Same.” A few more clicks, framing up the shot of two trees twisted together, charred but still standing. “This is the kind of thing photographers live for.”
Not just the colors and the splendor of nature, but the chance to share it with someone. The knowledge that they were the only two people on earth experiencing exactly this sunrise, right here, right now.
Turning again, she saw Tony with his hands in his pockets, Fireball’s leash around his wrist. He smiled, and Kayla’s breath caught in her chest.
Click.
Tony laughed. “Pretty sure that doesn’t belong in a coffee-table book.”
“You’re right,” she said, firing off another shot. “Take your shirt off, will you?”
She was only teasing, but he mimed the motions of stripping for her anyway. Kayla ordered herself to breathe, to keep this professional instead of following her silly, hopeful heart over a sun-streaked cliff.
“Very nice.” She made kissy noises at Fireball until he looked up and barked. “Show me your good side, puppy boy.”
The dog yipped again and reared up on his hind legs.
“I think he’s showing off his junk,” Tony observed.
“Hey, if he thinks that’s his good side, who am I to judge?”
“Maybe he’s onto something,” Tony mused.
Kayla turned away, so overwhelmed with emotion that she had to focus on the horizon. She was losing her light, but she had more than five hundred shots already. Most would be garbage, but she knew without looking she’d nabbed at least a dozen keepers.
Lowering the camera, she felt her limbs go liquid with adrenaline. “Thank you so much, Tony,” she said. “I would have slept right through it.”
“I wouldn’t let that happen.” He grinned. “I’ve got your back, girl.”
There went her silly heart again, slamming itself against her ribs like an anxious dog. She took a few shaky breaths, willing herself to come back to reality. “Did I tell you I got an email from my editor? The one publishing my photo collection.”
“What did she say?”
“They’re moving the pub date two months earlier. I guess they’re trying to get the book out for the holidays.” She laughed, hoisting her camera. “I’ll be editing like mad from the second we get home.”
“Do we need to get back earlier?”
She bit her lip, hating the thought of shortening their time together. “I think I’m okay. We’ll see how things shake out.”
“Whatever you need.”
“Thanks.” She smiled. “Right now, I need breakfast. Shall we head out?”
“And leave this awesome spot?” He shook his head, eyes glinting with mischief. “Wait here.”
He turned and hustled back to the truck, Fireball trotting beside him. As Kayla watched, Tony dragged a small cooler out of the back, then shouldered a battered backpack.
Intrigued, she watched him walk back toward her, admiring the way he filled out his jeans. No man had a right to look this good before eight in the morning.
Setting the cooler on the ground at her feet, he hooked Fireball’s leash around a charred and limbless tree. Then he unzipped the backpack. “It’s your turn to experience a piece of my world.”
He pulled out a little one-burner camp stove, followed by a cast-iron skillet. Positioning them on a stump between them, he got to work setting up his camp kitchen.
“You’ve had this with you all along?” Kayla picked up a can of Spam and a pepper grinder, marveling that he traveled with either one.
“A smokejumper’s always prepared.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever had Spam.” She set the can back on the stump and admired the rest of the spread.
“We live on the stuff when we’re out on fires,” he said. “There’s a competition between jumpers to see who can make the best Spam dish.”
She laughed and picked the can up again, studying the ingredients. It actually didn’t sound too terrible. “And do you win?”
“Sometimes.” He adjusted something on the stove as a flame flickered to life. “My Spam-and-spaghetti carbonara still draws rave reviews.”
“That sounds…weirdly amazing.”
“Trust me—it is.”
“How can I help?”
He nodded to the cooler. “There’s orange juice in there, and some cut-up pineapple. For the record, we never eat this well on a fire.”
“I’ll consider myself spoiled.” In more ways than one. How many women could count themselves lucky enough to have a hot smokejumper plan a sunrise picnic just for them?
While Tony cooked, Kayla found a flat spot of earth to spread the red-and-blue plaid blanket. With Tony humming behind her, she set up juice glasses and forks and—dear God, he brought cloth napkins? Whatever he was fixing smelled amazing. Onions and meat and…was that fresh cilantro?
“Holy cow, you’re going gourmet.”
Tony grinned and flipped something with a spatula. “Grab that cutting board over there, would you?”
She snatched up the blue plastic rectangle and hurried over, peering into the skillet. “Breakfast quesadillas?” she guessed, her mouth already watering.
“Not just breakfast quesadillas,” he said. “My world-famous breakfast quesadillas with spicy scrambled eggs, Spam,
pepper jack cheese, peppers, and onions. There’s salsa over there.”
Her mouth fell open as she picked up a carton of fat-free Greek yogurt. She always preferred it over sour cream but never knew he’d noticed. Surveying the spread with awe, she shook her head. “When did you have time to do all this?”
“Last night when I went to get Oreos, I spotted this cool gourmet grocery store,” he said. “I went back after you fell asleep, since I had a hunch it would be a good morning for a sunrise. I wanted it to be a surprise.”
Tears pricked the backs of her eyelids, which was silly. They were just quesadillas. “I can’t believe you went to all this trouble.”
He grinned and sliced the quesadilla into neat triangles, then divided them in half between two plates. “Dig in. It’s best when it’s hot.”
“Thank you.” She grabbed his plate while he gathered the condiments and followed her to the blanket. “So is this your own special recipe?”
Something flickered in his eyes. A quick flash of grief that told her she’d probed in a painful spot. He seemed to hesitate. “It was my mom’s, actually. I subbed Spam for the sausage, but the rest is all hers.”
“Your mom?” She glanced up from her breakfast, hardly daring to breathe. Was he going to open up? “It’s…amazing.” She swallowed a bite of food, afraid to say anything else and spoil the moment. “She must be a really good cook.”
“She was.” He bit into his quesadilla, chewing for a long while with his eyes fixed on the plate.
When he lifted his gaze to hers, Kayla saw something there that looked like resolve. “Maybe she still is. I don’t really know. I haven’t seen her since my senior year of high school.”
“What?” That couldn’t be right. “Where does she live?”
“Northern Washington.”
She blinked. “Here? You mean we’re close by?”
His gaze held hers for a long, long while. “A couple hours. Same house I grew up in. We haven’t spoken for…a while.”
A while. She didn’t know what that meant, but she tucked that detail away with what Jessi had shared. If he hadn’t seen his mother for years—
“It’s been eight years, actually.” He cleared his throat. “Since I spoke to my mother. Longer since Joel did.”
She held her breath, afraid to say the wrong thing. “You mentioned you’re estranged. I’m guessing something must have happened?”
He nodded slowly, looking down again at the quesadilla. “Yeah. After our dad ran off, she—she wasn’t herself.”
“I see.”
She waited for him to say more, listening to the chatter of birdsong and the thrum of her own heart in her head. He’d brought up his mother. This was monumental.
As the silence stretched out, she ate the last bite of quesadilla. It really was amazing—the perfect blend of gooey cheese and warm spices, with the smoky Spam rounding out the mix. She’d have to remember this later. Once she was back home and cooking for herself again.
A twist of melancholy swirled in her belly at the thought of their road trip ending. She’d gotten so used to spending every waking hour with Tony. Driving and dining and sleeping and—
“Look, I know I don’t talk about family much,” he blurted, bringing her back to the moment. “And it’s not that I’m trying to hide shit from you. It’s just—for so long, I’ve tried to put this stuff behind me. To move past it.”
It. She was definitely missing something, but she could fill in some blanks. “Some things are painful to talk about.”
She offered the words up timidly, but the relief on his face told her she’d aimed true.
“Yeah,” he said. “That’s for damn sure.”
He shook his head, staring down at his plate, and Kayla thought that might be it. The extent of what he was willing to share.
But then he looked up and met her eyes. “I guess that failing to open up has been costing me a lot.”
She nodded, not sure how to respond. “So maybe you’re not just a lousy boyfriend or a commitment-phobe or anything like that. Maybe you’re just…scared?”
The word hung there between them, and she held her breath, hoping she hadn’t offended.
“Maybe.” He set his empty plate aside and stretched out his legs. “You know, even though you and I dated for a month and we’ve been hanging out for more than a year, we really didn’t know each other. Not like this.”
He swept his hand out, encompassing the forest and their own little corner of it. This blanket oasis on a pine-needled ground. “It’s a first for me,” he continued. “Letting someone in this much.”
Kayla swallowed hard, resisting the urge to throw her arms around him. She didn’t want to scare him away. Didn’t want to give the wrong idea.
What was the right one?
“Tony, I—” She broke off, noticing the blaze of alarm flashing across his face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
He jumped up, gaze swinging left to right and back again. “Wait. Where’s Fireball?”
Kayla jerked. “Fireball? I thought you tied him to that tree.”
Tony started to run, then reached out a hand to hoist her to her feet. “He wouldn’t have gone far. Not with all this food out.”
But the little dog wasn’t terribly food motivated. Kayla suppressed a shiver of alarm. “Fireball,” she called. “Here, boy!”
“Shit. Goddammit.” Tony bent to inspect the stump where he’d tied the leash. “I should have known this wasn’t stable.”
“It’s not your fault.” Her voice sounded high and panicky as her gaze swept the surrounding trees. “He wouldn’t just run off.”
“He might if he saw a rabbit or a squirrel or something.” Tony dragged a hand through his hair as his gaze swept the trees.
She bit her lip, eyes searching the trees. “Willa had a beagle a long time ago. He’d catch a scent and take off for miles. No warning or anything. Once, he disappeared for three days and turned up in a town almost fifty miles away.”
“Jesus.” Tony shook his head. “My fault. I tied him to that stump.”
“No one’s fault.” Terror washed through her, bright and stinging in the sunlight. She blinked back tears as her heart began pounding.
Think. Think.
Where would he go?
She shivered for real this time, horrified to think of her little dog alone in the woods. This was bear country. Cougars, too, not to mention hawks and owls and—
“Fireball!” She yelled his name, then called it again. “Fireball!”
With dread curdling her gut, she scanned the trees as she fought the urge to cry.
…
You are such a fucking dumbass.
The words pulsed through Tony’s brain, but it wasn’t his own voice. It was one he hadn’t heard for years—not since he slammed the door in his stepfather’s face and turned away from the only home he’d ever known.
He was running now, frantic to find the little dog.
“Fireball,” he called, trying to keep the panic from his voice. No need to make this worse for Kayla. “Here, buddy!”
His gaze swept the woods as he cursed himself under his breath. What the hell kind of smokejumper misjudged the stability of a burned-out tree? He’d been sure the little dog wouldn’t go far with Kayla and a plate of food nearby. That would keep any guy close by.
Any guy but Fireball, apparently.
“Here, puppy puppy puppy!” Kayla called, cupping her hands around her mouth with her dark ponytail trailing down her back. “Fireball!”
Tony snatched a leftover piece of meat off a plate and waved it in the air. “C’mere, buddy. I’ve got Spam.”
Like the dog even knew all those words. But the dog knew Kayla’s voice, and he couldn’t have gone far.
“Fireball!”
With Kayla’s voice fading
into the trees, Tony picked up the pace. It wouldn’t do for them to end up lost, too. He knew leaving food unattended was a bad idea. This was bear country, after all.
“Fireball!” He shouted as loudly as he could, praying the little dog would hear them. “Here, boy!”
Up ahead, Kayla whirled around. Her blue eyes were frantic, and a twig speared wildly through her ponytail. “What if he hasn’t known us long enough to come? He’s never even been home with us. Maybe he doesn’t know he belongs with us.”
Tears streaked down her cheeks, and Tony caught up with her in a couple more strides. Planting his hands on her shoulders, he looked into her eyes. “We’ll find him, okay? I promise.”
Kayla nodded as another tear slipped down her face. “I believe you.”
The words felt like a punch in the gut. He’d done nothing to earn her trust, just like he’d done nothing to make any other girlfriend trust him. Wasn’t that part of the problem?
“Come on,” he said, taking a step back. “We need supplies before we get too deep into the forest. Compass, first aid kid, food to lure him with.”
“Right. Of course.” Kayla bit her lip. “You don’t think a wild animal got him, do you?”
“Hell, no,” Tony said, even though that same fear crossed his mind. “He’s too fast, too spicy. They’d spit him back out if they caught him.”
She laughed, but it came out more like a sob. “I can’t believe I wasn’t watching him better. If I’d—”
“No.” He shook his head, cutting off that train of thought. “No way this is your fault.”
It was his fault, plain and simple. Still cursing himself, he dug through his pack for supplies. “One of us should stay here, in case he comes back.”
Kayla nibbled her lip again. “I can’t just sit here. I have to do something.”
“You will be doing something,” he said. “You’ll be trying to lure him back to you. Having a base of operations is one of the most crucial things in search and rescue.”
He kept digging through his stuff, pulling out flashlights and a first aid kit and even a can of bear spray. Charging off into unknown wilderness was normal for him, a part of his job. Besides, he owed it to Kayla to be the one to find Fireball.
