A Cowboy Firefighter For Christmas (Smokin' Hot Cowboys 1)

by Kim Redford

  Besides, she was here on business. Texas Timber had hired her as an independent troubleshooter to find out who had burned down one of the company’s Christmas tree farms, and possibly caused other problems. She’d been warned not to trust anybody in Wildcat Bluff County. Now, first thing, she was involved with a local. A really hot local. She couldn’t hold back a soulful sigh. At least she might excuse her interest in Trey as simply business since he might be helpful in her investigation.

  “You’re a deputized firefighter now,” he said.

  “That can’t be legal.” She attacked the grass with renewed energy. They were actually making good headway now.

  “If there’s trouble, everybody pitches in.”

  “Police? 9-1-1?”

  “We’re the first responders.” He struck hard at the ground with his towels.

  “There must be a county sheriff. Highway patrol.”

  “And the Wildcat Bluff Police Department.” He stomped at the blackened grass. “How long do you think it’d take help to get here?”

  “Good point.”

  “We all depend on the Wildcat Bluff County Volunteer Fire-Rescue.”

  “That’s why you deputized me? I’m a total stranger! I could have been—well, big trouble. I actually thought you were, at first.”

  “But you aren’t,” he said with another charming grin.

  She couldn’t resist cracking a smile back, even despite the circumstances. She shrugged, beginning to understand that life out here was different than in the city.

  Sweat trickled down her body. Soot tasted bitter in her mouth. Sunlight beat down on her head. If she came out of this with nothing more than sunburn, she’d be lucky. Yet, that didn’t matter. She was helping stop a fire. She was saving lives and property. She was taking a step toward recovery.

  As the flames dwindled in size and scope, she edged toward him. Soon they worked side by side, putting out the remaining hot spots. He loomed well over six feet and made her feel diminutive, even at her perfectly respectable five seven.

  Finally, he stopped and stretched his back.

  “Fire’s out?” She wanted him to confirm what she saw with her own eyes.

  “Yep. Looks good.” He scuffed his boots across the crusty grass. “Can’t thank you enough. If you hadn’t come along when you did—”

  “You’d have thought of something.” She interrupted to keep him from saying another word. His melodic voice with the deep Texas drawl couldn’t help but put her in mind of hot, sweaty bodies sliding across cool, satin sheets.

  “I needed a miracle and prayed for one the minute I saw the fire.” He walked over to her. “I heard my answer in your car coming down the highway. I headed back to the road, running flat out. And there you were in your pure white SUV, looking so cool and unafraid of the wild man pounding on your window. You had a miracle in your car. Towels. Not many people would have had them just waiting on a backseat.”

  She didn’t feel so cool and unafraid. Who had this guy been looking at? Still, his words made her swell with an unusual type of pride. “Like I said, I always do. Just in case.”

  He clasped both towels in one hand, and held out the other. “Thank you. You’re my Christmas angel.”

  “Just plain Misty Reynolds.” She shook his hand, feeling his strength, his heat, his calluses.

  “Pleased to meet you.” He rubbed the back of her hand with his rough thumb, and then slowly released her. “Like I said, I’m Trey…Trey Duval.”

  For a moment, she couldn’t remember the polite response required of her. She was caught in the magic of his touch, the mesmerizing sound of his voice, and the unusual color of his eyes, circles of gold, green, and brown. She glanced away to release his spell. “Good to meet you, too.”

  “Are you going to be around long?”

  “A bit. I’m on vacation.” She hoped her cover story would ring true to everyone she met in Wildcat Bluff.

  “Where are you staying?”

  Misty hesitated, but Trey really did seem like a good guy. Besides, he’d learn it soon enough from the locals. She decided to trust the instinct that was telling her to trust him.

  “Twin Oaks B&B. No website, but I caught a couple of good reviews online.”

  “Ruby’s got more customers than she can shake a stick at. No need to promote. That natural spring draws folks.”

  “Guess a lot of business is the best promotion.”

  He nodded. “It’s usually pretty quiet in Wildcat Bluff. But we’ll get plenty of folks out here for our Christmas in the Country festivities.”

  “I’m not here for anything Christmas. I’ve been working hard and need a quiet place to get away.” She didn’t like the sound of festivities. They could complicate her investigation. Still, she doubted a few candles in windows and plastic lighted displays in front yards would draw much of a crowd.

  “I’d imagine fighting a wild fire isn’t the best way to start your vacation.”

  “True. But how do you think it got started?” Now that the blaze was out, her mind kicked into gear. Did this fire connect with her investigation? It’d be quite a coincidence if it did, but she couldn’t rule out natural causes from the heat and drought. Still, she’d checked topographical maps before she’d arrived in the county. If she remembered correctly, the flames were burning a path straight toward a Texas Timber Christmas tree farm. On the other hand, the blaze had started on a ranch, so maybe it had nothing to do with Texas Timber. Plenty to ponder here.

  “Good question.” He squeezed the burned towels between his fists. “I’ll be following up on it.”

  “If I can be of help, let me know.”

  “Think on it. Maybe you saw something.”

  “Or somebody?” she prodded, sensing his implication.

  He nodded as he glanced with narrowed eyes around the area.

  “Arson?”

  “Possibility.”

  “I didn’t notice anything unusual, but maybe something will come to me.” She pushed sweat-dampened hair back from her forehead, shelving her questions for the moment. “You must be thirsty. I’ve got bottles of water in the car.” She wished she’d had enough water to help fight the fire, but at least she had enough to ease their dry throats.

  “Thanks. I owe you a big, thick, sizzling steak.”

  “I thought it was a pair of boots,” she teased before she realized she was flirting with him. She pressed her lips together to stop any other wayward words from escaping her mouth.

  He smiled as his eyes crinkled invitingly at the corners. “That too.”

  “I’m glad I was able to help.” She spoke as primly as possible.

  He held up the towels. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep these.”

  She handed over her scorched towel. “Keep mine, too.”

  “Guess I owe you three towels.”

  “Not at all. Like I said—”

  “You don’t need anything from me.” He cocked his head. “But if you’d like dinner, I can grill a mean steak.” Another killer grin.

  “I bet you can.” Misty wondered if he meant a date. She felt excited at the idea. She stepped back. If she didn’t get farther away from him, she felt as if she might spontaneously combust.

  He took her cue and changed the subject. “Would you mind giving me a ride?”

  “A ride?” No excuse for it, but her mind skittered sideways to an image of his big empty bed. So much for changing the subject.

  He took a step toward her. “To Wildcat Bluff.”

  She couldn’t help but notice his voice held a huskiness that hadn’t been there before. “I see. You need a ride to town.”

  “I sent off my horse.”

  “You ride horses?”

  “That’s what cowboys do.”

  “You’re a cowboy firefighter?”

 
He tipped an imaginary hat.

  Chapter 2

  Trey evaluated the blackened section of the pasture. Might still be hot spots, but for now, he’d been damn lucky. He glanced at his luck. He’d crossed paths with a hot gal on a hot day. What were the odds? He wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but too many coincidences always made him uneasy. Still, she’d been a trouper. He couldn’t ask for more.

  “I’m parched,” Misty said. “Bet you are, too.”

  “You offered water, didn’t you?”

  She grinned, revealing pretty teeth that’d make any orthodontist proud. “I haven’t got just any old water. I’ve got bottles of East Texas Ozarka on ice in a cooler.”

  “Be still my heart.” He joined her tinkling laughter as he placed a hand over his heart. And realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Where the hell was it? He glanced around as he thought back. Oh yeah, he’d thrown it down on the road. He wasn’t just shirtless. He was dirty and sweaty, too, meaning he was about as far off a gal’s radar as he could get. Guess bad luck had to balance out good luck. But it hardly seemed fair.

  No walking this one back. He might as well play the hand he’d been dealt. All he could do was try a distraction. “We’ve done all we can here. You ready for that drink?”

  “Absolutely!” She smiled in delight.

  He turned away from the depths of her pale green eyes, too much like the lure of a cool, clear pool on a hot summer day. Talk about distraction.

  He stomped over to the fence. He held the barbwire down with his boot so she could cross with less trouble. The last thing he wanted was for her to get an injury. He watched as she stepped over the fence with long legs. Leggy trouble. He followed the sway of her narrow hips as she walked away. Bigger trouble. The situation was shaping up to leave him tossing and turning at night on his too-empty king-size bed. But there was always a price to pay for the good things in life.

  He held the three towels with one hand while he stepped over the barbwire. He kicked the fence post back in line with his boot so the wire didn’t sag as much. Not perfect, but good enough to hold till he had a chance to fix it right. He had other fence to repair today, too, but nothing critical. It’d all still be there tomorrow. For now, he wanted to know a little more about the stranger with the perfect timing. And he never minded time spent in the company of an interesting woman.

  While Misty walked back to her SUV, he checked the highway for his shirt. Sure enough, it was still where he’d dropped it. He grabbed the mess of torn, burned, smelly fabric. Shame, too. He’d had the shirt long enough that it was broken in just right. That meant soft with no holes, faded color, or style that made gals cringe. Not easy to meet the challenge, but the shirt had done it. Maybe he ought to bury it back home and put up an “RIP Good Shirt” sign.

  “What are you going to do about your shirt?” Misty walked over with a black garbage bag in her hand.

  “It’s a favorite.”

  “I understand. But—” She snapped open the bag.

  He took her meaning. “Guess I’d better say good-bye.” With a dramatic sigh, he dropped the shirt and towels into the trash bag. Misty rolled her eyes, but Trey noticed she was also fighting an amused smile. The smile tickled him in a way he couldn’t put his finger on, and that made him a little uneasy.

  As he walked with her back to the SUV, he scanned the area. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. No smoke on the horizon. No loose cattle out of pastures. No sounds indicating trouble. A hawk’s dark shadow passed over the highway. Trey glanced up. The raptor lazily circled in the big blue sky overhead, trolling for supper while rodents no doubt scurried for cover on the wide expanse of the golden prairie below.

  He relaxed a bit, feeling hunger, thirst, and tiredness creep up on him. No surprise after all the activity. For now, all was as it should be in his world, so life was good.

  Back at the SUV, Misty opened a door, leaned in, and tossed the garbage onto a floorboard.

  He watched, not even attempting to be a gentleman. She wasn’t nearly as pristine as he’d thought, because she was running him a close second in the sweaty, dirty department. He wondered if, underneath her pretty blue capris, she wore nothing but a bit of lace and silk. Snow white, if he didn’t miss his guess, although he’d like to find out for sure. White suited his Christmas angel.

  He heard the sound of ice clinking in the cooler before she stood up and turned around. She held three bottles with water dripping down their sides. Looked like heaven to him. She set a bottle on the ground before she held one out to him. He wrapped his hand around her cold, wet fingers. A hot spark arced between them. Her green eyes widened in surprise.

  She jerked her hand away, unscrewed the cap off her own bottle, tilted it up to her lips, and took a long drink of water.

  He wrenched the top off his own bottle and slugged back half the liquid, spilling water down his chin to his bare chest. He had to cool off before he said or did something he’d regret later. He poured the last of the water over his head to wash away some of the sweat, the stink of the fire, and the heat she’d built in him.

  “Need more water?” She picked up the other full bottle and tossed it to him.

  What he wanted was a taste of her. He grinned as he dropped the empty and caught the new bottle. “Thank you. Nothing better than cold water after a hot fire.” He cracked the top on the bottle, took a long swig, and chuckled under his breath. “Well, almost nothing.”

  He could still hardly believe his good luck. First, he’d gotten to the fire in time to put it out without much damage. Then, help had come in the form of his own personal Christmas angel. Blond-haired. Green-eyed. Red-lipped. Misty would make the perfect stocking stuffer.

  Maybe now that she was here, the holiday season would finally kick into gear. What with the drought and heat, it’d been hell getting in the mood. Not just for him, but for the whole area. No matter how many decorations they put out, no matter how many parties they planned, no matter how many holiday clothes they wore, a pall hung over Wildcat Bluff County.

  He’d even put a Christmas wish list on his refrigerator door under a Frosty the Snowman magnet. He’d written one item and one item only on the list. Snow. If they could get a thick blanket of snow across the county, their heat and drought problems would be over. Plus, they’d celebrate Christmas in style. ’Course, chances of getting snow were slim to none. He was just whistling in the wind. Still, he’d settle for a good gully washer.

  But that was before his Christmas angel had descended on Wildcat Bluff County. She might carry some weight in high places. She’d definitely add cheer to his personal life. As soon as he got home, he’d add her to his list. Item #1: Snow. Item #2: Misty Reynolds. On second thought, he’d better reverse the order. Chances of achieving Item #1 were none. Cuddling with Item #2 was in the realm of possibility. You couldn’t tell him angels didn’t need loving as much as the next person. He just hoped angels were fond of snow.

  That was the upside of the situation. The downside lurked like a rattlesnake in a woodpile. He got the itchy feeling there was more to Misty’s story than she was telling. He had trouble believing she’d vacation in Wildcat Bluff or Wildcat Bluff County. Drive a four-wheeler on back roads? Cast a fishing line in a lake? Hunt deer or turkey in season? Throw a leg over a horse to barrel race? He couldn’t picture it.

  He couldn’t see her as an Old West tourist either. Maybe relax at Ruby’s Twin Oaks B&B with its amenities and natural spring. But Hot Springs, Arkansas, won hands-down as the place to go for pampered getaways, what with all the legendary spas, nightspots, and racetrack. Sure, she’d said she was here for peace, quiet, and relaxation, but he just had trouble believing it.

  Then again, he was on high alert after so many unexplained fires, downed fences, and cattle let loose. All that, plus the heat and drought, made him edgy and distrustful of strangers. He could be dead wrong about Misty. He�
��d sure like to be. She’d created an itch that begged to be scratched. Too bad he held the short end of the stick on time and trust.

  Any which way he sliced it, he feared his Christmas angel had singed wings. Not that it meant he shouldn’t get close to her. What was that old saying? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. He’d keep her as close as he could get her. She was holding something back. Might be important. Might be nothing. Folks had lots of secrets they preferred not to share. He had a few of his own. In this case, he had a feeling her secret involved Wildcat Bluff County. And that was his concern.

  Not that his body gave a damn. More than one leggy blond had led him around by his nose like a prize bull. He’d sworn off the breed. No blonds. No cowgirls. No city gals. ’Course, that left slim pickings. If he had good sense, he’d cross Misty off his wish list. Still, no point being hasty. She was real fine. Anyway, Christmas angels were as rare as hen’s teeth. And he hadn’t sworn off them. Maybe, if necessary, he’d find a way to burnish this one’s wings bright and shiny again.

  “Do you think it’s safe to leave now?” Misty gestured toward the pasture’s blackened area.

  “Figured we’d wait a bit.” Someone needed to stay and watch till there was no chance the fire might reignite.

  “I need to check in at the B&B.”

  “Ruby won’t mind if you’re late.”

  “You could stay here. I’d send somebody out to get you.” She finished off her bottle of water and picked up his empty one.

  “Someone ought to be here soon. Like I said, I sent my horse back to the barn. A ranch hand will get the word out that I need help once he sees my mount.”

  “They’ll know where to find you?”

  “General area.” He glanced down the road, but it was empty. “Might take time till somebody spots my horse.”

  He might as well admit, at least to himself, that he didn’t want to let her go yet. He should though. She’d already helped more than he had any right to expect. But he felt possessive. If he was right, he’d seen yearning in her eyes that matched his own. If he was wrong, he wanted to be the one who put yearning there.