Especially when God nudged her out of bed at o-dark-hundred to pray.
Although she didn’t know the specifics, Liza stood at her window, staring out at the darkened harbor, the tiniest hint of sunrise along the far edge of the horizon, pressed her hand to the window, and asked God to save him.
Save all of them.
Because of Your great love, do not let them be consumed. Do not let Your compassions fail, Lord.
She got dressed and headed out to the harbor, the sunrise beckoning as it filled the eastern horizon with layers of rose, magenta, and gold, gilding the pebbles on the beach, turning the water in the harbor a burnt orange.
She sat on the beach, not too far from where she’d sat with Conner, her tray of graphite pencils sharpened, a fresh board on her lap. Began to sketch.
Not her usual medium, but to Liza, an old habit, one that filled her soul.
She started with the hard line of the water, then the circle of light just lipping the horizon, kept her movements whisper soft. She didn’t look at the paper, but drew by gestures, the flow of what she saw as the morning exploded around her.
When she looked down, she’d drawn the outline of the ribbons of color. She switched to her darker B pencils, began to add the layers of color.
The sunrise took life, and she didn’t hear footsteps until pebbles shifted beside her, a few trickling down to the water’s edge.
She looked up and her heart stopped for a full second when Conner—looking like a medieval hero, complete with sooty face, bloodshot eyes, blond hair in sweaty tangles, and smelling like he’d fought a dragon—smiled down at her. “Hey, Donut Girl.”
She managed to not dissolve into a puddle and smiled casually up at him. “Hey, Smokejumper. How are you?”
Oh, stupid question, Liza. He looked like he’d been dragged by a horse through live coals. Especially when he looked up at the sunrise, stared at it a long moment, something vacant in his face. Then he inhaled, long, and gave a small nod.
“What are you—I mean—really, you look like—”
“I just came off the fire line?” He hunkered down next to her, as if he belonged there, and only then did she notice he held his bandanna, pock-marked with burns and ash.
It scared her a little to see him so wrung out. She put down her sketch. “What happened?”
He blew out another breath, a little shaky, and she had the crazy urge to reach out, touch his hand. His muscled arm. Maybe draw him into a hug.
A just-friends-but-I-prayed-for-you hug.
“We nearly got overrun tonight—or this morning, rather. I just dropped off one of my crew at the hospital—he’s got a pretty banged-up ankle.”
She wanted to ask how he’d ended up with her on the beach but said nothing as he seemed to be working out his words.
“I saw the sunrise from the hospital parking lot and...I just couldn’t go back to the resort. Not quite yet. So, here I am.” He looked at her. “With you.”
And then he smiled again, something sweet and gentle in it. As if he might be glad, even relieved, to see her.
Huh.
“You do this every morning?” he asked, gesturing to the sketch.
“No. I was...well, this is going to sound crazy, but God sort of woke me up to pray for you. So, I was. I did.”
His smile vanished, and he looked almost pained, his eyes closing then. He looked away, back at the lake.
“Conner, are you okay?” Now she did touch him, just a hand, gentle on his shoulder. His shirt was sweaty, grimy, and nearly black with ash.
He blew out another breath. “Now I am.”
Liza sat in silence, the waves raking the shore, not so sure.
Then, “We came pretty close to disaster today.”
She didn’t want to hear that but kept her face unmoving, her emotions locked inside.
“And I just keep remembering…”
His jaw tightened, and Liza just about took his hand. Folded hers instead over her updrawn knees.
“Yeah, well, okay...I told you my parents died in a car crash. But what I didn’t mention was that the car flipped, and they were trapped. I got out, and got my brother out, but...” He swallowed, his mouth a tight line. Then, “They burned to death.”
Oh. No. “Conner, I’m so sorry.” ’ ’
“Yeah. And it’s usually just there, lodged in the back of my brain, but days like this...” He gave a silent chuckle, nothing of humor in it. “Shoot. I didn’t mean to come down here and unload on you—I was just trying to clear my head.”
“Clear it with me. Maybe that’s why God brought me out here.”
He looked at her then, a quick frown, then another noise that sounded terribly like amazement. “Maybe.”
“For sure, Conner. God’s compassion for you never fails. It’s new every morning, faithful. Like sunrises.” Liza slid her hand down to his. Squeezed. “The Lord is good to those whose hope is in Him.”
He was looking at her hand on his. Then, suddenly, he turned his hand, caught her fingers in his, wove them together. “Our last trip as a family was to Mt. Rushmore. My dad loved flying remote control airplanes—probably where I got my drone fever—and we woke up early that last day and flew the plane over the park as the sun rose. It turned the faces of the presidents bronze.”
“Like the face of Moses when he looked at God.”
“I never thought about that before.”
“But it makes sense—we should be changed when we look at the light. God. Sunrises—they bring us out of our darkness.”
He was looking at her then, his blue eyes on her, something in them that suddenly made her heart stir in her chest, painfully aware of his hand in hers, strong fingers laced together, work worn but gentle. “You bring me out of my darkness, Liza,” he said softly.
She stilled, especially as his gaze roamed her face, dropped to her mouth.
Which went dry.
If she didn’t know better, she thought he might kiss her. She’d seen desire a few times in her life, and the way he swallowed, the slight lick of his lips, and something hollow and vulnerable flashed across his face.
She didn’t know what to do, not sure—
Not sure? She’d lost her mind, right? A handsome, strong, brave Christian man wanted to kiss her and she was debating—
Yes. Because Liza didn’t do casual. Didn’t do right-now-and-never-again. Didn’t give her heart away without promises.
But oh, she could nearly taste his lips against hers, gentle. Or maybe a little hungry.
Suddenly, however, he turned away. Let go of her hand.
Phew. Right?
Yes. Good.
“Sorry—I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just tired, and—”
“Conner. Shh. Everyone needs a friend now and then.” She kept her voice light. “And you had a rough night.”
He looked away, and she watched his profile against the shore, his whiskers slightly singed, his face blackened.
“You need breakfast and a shower and sleep. C’mon. I live across the street. I can at least help with the breakfast part.”
She grabbed her sketchbook, a little surprised when he held out his hand to help her up.
She loved her little bungalow just off Main Street, with the long sidewalk, the front porch, the stone-stacked fireplace. She had two bedrooms downstairs, one for guests, the other an office. And upstairs was her master, a cute room with dormer window seats and an angled ceiling.
Out the back, her tenant, Ivy, lived over the garage.
Liza let him inside and, on a whim— “I have a man’s T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants here from when Mona’s husband, Joe, was working on a project a couple weeks ago. If you want to shower—”
“That would be—yeah,” Conner said, and she turned to see him standing in her doorway, a little rattled, looking so tired she wanted to cry for him.
“Bathroom is off the guest room. I’ll get the clothes.”
The shower was going in the bathroom when she
returned with the clothes. Liza set them outside the bathroom door and headed to the kitchen.
Pancakes with nutmeg and cinnamon. And scrambled eggs with peppers, onions, mushrooms. She even thawed a couple of wild-rice-and-pork sausages from the local deli.
But he was taking so long, she thought he might have fallen asleep in the shower. And then what?—she couldn’t rightly go in and drag him to safety.
Liza was just trying to figure out if she should call Joe or maybe 9-1-1 when he emerged, a towel around his shoulders, his hair clean and toweled off, still damp. The navy Deep Haven Fire and Rescue shirt clung to his body, his wide, work-sculpted shoulders, his lean torso. He wore the sweatpants low, his feet bare.
“This smells amazing,” Conner said to her, standing in the doorway. He pulled the towel off his shoulders, hung it on the chair.
She hadn’t realized how dirty he’d been. His beard cleaned up to a shiny gold, his hair sun-streaked white, his eyes bright without the soot on his skin. Yes, he must have scrubbed, because his hands were clean.
Again she noticed the scars on his hands. Conner must have seen her looking as she put the plate of eggs and sausage in front of him. He pulled out the chair, sat down. “They’re from the car accident,” he said quietly. “Not a wildfire.”
The accident. The accident where he’d pulled his brother to safety.
Liza had a feeling that the burns might have occurred while his parents were trapped, while he was trying to free them. But she didn’t want to ask. Instead, she set pancakes down next to his plate of eggs, then the syrup. Powdered sugar.
“This is enough food to feed everyone in fire camp.”
“And yet, I think you’ll manage,” she said, sitting down opposite him.
Conner grinned, tiny lines around his eyes crinkling. A dimple in his cheek. She had to look away at another rush of her pulse.
He just needed a friend.
To her surprise, however, he held out his hand. “My grandfather always made sure we prayed before our meals.”
Liza took his hand. His thumb dragged over the top of her hand, perhaps absently, as he prayed, his voice soft, earnest.
He mentioned the fire, a guy named Tom, and thanked God for Liza.
Then Conner ate like a man who hadn’t seen food for a decade. She had dished up eggs for herself, but played with them, watching.
He finally looked up, reaching for his orange juice.
She grinned.
“I’m a cave man, aren’t I?”
“A little,” she said.
“These are good eggs.” He pulled the plate of pancakes closer to himself. “My grandfather is an amazing flapjack maker. He uses real buttermilk in his batter, lets it rise overnight.”
“These aren’t that good.”
But he’d taken a bite. “Oh yes they are.” Then he winked.
Just. Friends.
“He used to put in chocolate chips for my brother, the wimp.”
“I have sprinkles...”
Conner grinned. “Thanks. I’m good.”
“Is he a smokejumper, too?”
“Justin?” He shook his head, his mouth wry. “He was an NSA agent.”
Was?
Oh. No. And she didn’t want him to finish, but…
“Justin was murdered in the line of duty about seven years ago.”
Oh. Liza stared at him, wanting to weep. “Conner—”
“It’s okay—”
“It’s not okay. I’m so sorry.”
Conner gave her a half smile. “Thanks. It was probably even harder on my grandfather. He and Justin were real close. They never solved the murder. And now, the NSA has decided to relegate it to cold cases. So, I’m afraid we’ll never have any answers.”
It just got worse. Liza pushed her eggs away, unable to speak.
“Wow, I just killed the mood,” he said.
She looked up. “What mood?”
“The one where you were trying to cheer me up, keep me alive.”
“Is that what I was doing?”
He smiled then. “I hope so. Because I’ve been thinking about you all week.”
And see, what was she supposed to do when he said things like that? Ignore the spark inside?
Just. Friends.
“Coffee?” Liza asked, her voice a little thick.
“No. I need serious sleep, and it’ll only start me buzzing.”
She had the strangest urge to offer him her guest room. Probably not a good idea.
Conner finished his pancakes. “Those were fantastic.” He pressed his hand to his stomach. “It’s a good thing I get twenty-four hours off, because if I went back out now, they’d have to roll me onto the fire line.”
He smiled again, and apparently she’d done her job, cheering him up. Now, if she could only keep him alive.
“Have you been on a lot of fires this summer?”
“About six so far. This is the biggest, though.”
“Six?”
“Yeah—mostly in Montana, a couple in Idaho. The smokejumping team used to deploy out of Boise, but we built a training base in Ember, Montana, which is just west of Glacier National Park. We’re stationed there. We mostly put out fires in the Cabinet Mountains and, of course, the park.”
“Sounds busy and…exhausting. You look like you’re going to drop right here.”
Conner smiled. “Maybe. If I do, just shove a pillow under my head. I’m used to sleeping in crazy places. But I do like the work. I like the fact that at the end of the day you walk away tired, having kept a promise to yourself that you won’t quit. And”—his smile dimmed—“it’s the closest thing to being a part of a family a guy like me is going to get.”
A guy like him?
She might have let his words flicker in her eyes but said nothing. Still, he answered her.
“I live in a trailer, moving from one fire to the next. And like I said, there’s a lot of sleeping on the ground. We never know when we need to deploy—we get about a two-hour notice. Sometimes they take us right off one fire, fly us into another. So it’s hard to put down roots or make friends.”
Probably his way of telling her that if he left, he wouldn’t be able to say good-bye. But if that was meant to scare her off, he had nothing to worry about.
“Some of us are just destined to spend our lives alone,” she said and lifted a shoulder. “Doesn’t mean you can’t have a friend along the way, even temporarily.”
She felt Conner’s enigmatic look all the way to her bones, turning her world a little off-kilter.
Liza cleared her throat, found her footing. “How is the fire going?”
“Not great. Jed called in for more tankers, but if we don’t get a handle on it, it’s going to start destroying some of the resorts. Like Evergreen. And something called the Garden? Darek mentioned it at a briefing we had a few days ago at the resort.”
“The Garden—oh no. That’s where Joe’s brother Gabriel lives. It’s a group home. I should call Mona.”
“I think the fire department is already on it,” Conner said and finished off his juice.
Then silence fell, awkward between them.
“I should go.” He got up. “Thank you for breakfast. And for the clothes. If I don’t get a chance to bring them back, I’ll leave them at Evergreen.”
Liza managed a smile, hating how her heart suddenly hurt.
And she might not be the only one, because he just stared at her, a half smile on his face, as if sorry to leave. “I’m glad you were on the beach, Liza. Thanks for this morning. You’ve been...”
Just. Friends.
“Amazing.”
Oh.
“And easy to talk to, and yeah, I think God used you today to help jar me out of my funk. I know I would have perished without breakfast.”
She stood, picked up his towel, held it. “I doubt it.”
“I know it.” His eyes met hers, an emotion she couldn’t name just below the surface. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed
it. “I definitely needed a friend.”
Her smile was genuine. “I’m glad I could be your Deep Haven friend.”
He stood there a second longer, looked at the towel in her hand, as if stirring up words. Then, “I don’t make promises, but if I can get back into town before I leave, I will, okay?”
Huh? Oh. She knew he was leaving, but found her breath caught. She nodded though, her foolish heart tumbling over with his words.
“Stay alive, Conner.”
And then she reached out her hand to him.
He took it. Then quickly pulled her close. Wrapped her in a hug.
A warm, just-friends kind of embrace that she probably enjoyed way too much. Because his chest was solid against her cheek, his waist trim and toned, and he smelled freshly showered, the hint of soap on his skin.
“Keep praying,” he said, then let her go.
And if that didn’t help her tuck her heart back into her chest, then she didn’t know what would.
Liza watched him leave, carrying his bundle of smoky, charred clothing, and wished that she wasn’t so easy to walk away from.
Chapter 3
Conner couldn’t believe Evergreen Resort had actually burned to the ground.
It still seemed surreal to remember standing there on the shore of Pine Acres, watching from across Evergreen Lake as the nearly hundred-year-old resort was consumed by the forest fire. The blaze overran all twelve cabins, the trees, the swing set, an A-frame house, even the towering pines from which the resort got its name.
Darek had narrowly missed being burned alive at the neighbor’s house, saving his girlfriend Ivy and her friend Claire. They’d floated to safety under a canoe in Evergreen Lake.
Conner still felt a little lightheaded when he thought about the destruction.
Thankfully, it had stopped at the lodge, Jed’s voice in near disbelief as they watched the survival of the stately two-story home glistening wet under the spray of hoses from the lake.
The fire had come right up to the edge of the property, clawing, hungry.
And died.
It also stopped in the field behind Pine Acres, a resort owned by Jensen Atwood, who ingeniously had run a sprinkler system into the green meadow that separated the Acres from the forest.
Playing With Fire: inspirational romantic suspense (Montana Fire Book 2) Page 4
