The Promise of Rayne

by Nicole Deese

  “Pretty bad. I had prescription contacts by then, but my allergies were acting up that day.” And so were her emotions, but she didn’t dare bring up that infamous night with Levi again. She glanced back to the picture and cringed at the oversized purple frames. “Thank you, though, for pointing out the obvious.”

  He leaned in close and bent his mouth to her ear, his warm breath sweeping the curve of her neck. “I never said you weren’t adorable.”

  She sucked in a shallow gasp as he pulled back just enough to study her face. She felt it again then, that glorious and frightening vibration inside her, the one that seemed to beckon him closer without bothering to ask for permission. Neither of them moved for several seconds, and she wondered . . . wondered if his mouth would taste like vanilla-infused honey. Wondered if his kiss would feel the way she’d imagined nine years ago, wrapped in starlight and possibilities.

  He cleared his throat and glanced over her shoulder at the clock. “I should probably head out if I’m going to catch that sunrise.”

  She could only guess at her stupefied expression. “Yeah, you don’t want to miss it. It’s beautiful.”

  Her heartbeats stalled under his gaze. “Six thirty by the mailboxes. Don’t forget.”

  “I won’t.” She couldn’t, even if she tried.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  A yawn escaped him as one minute rolled into the next. He stretched his neck to keep the idling rumble of his truck from becoming a lullaby. Early mornings on the farm were as much a habit as checking the fence lines around the orchard, but even “early” had its limitations. Waking before four o’clock seemed downright ungodly. He could only imagine how Rayne must be feeling right about now.

  He glanced again to the right. Where was she? Had she fallen asleep? Changed her mind? If she didn’t show soon . . .

  Just then he saw Rayne zigzag around a rose bush and trot toward his truck. She flicked her wrist in a shy wave, and an unnatural and somewhat unsettling familiarity struck him at the gesture. Her jeans had taken him by surprise this morning, hugging her curves in all the right places, but it was her choice in footwear that had his pulse tripping: wheat-colored work boots, worn and mud-splattered, were absolutely the sexiest thing he’d seen on her yet.

  He leaned over the seat and popped her door open.

  “Thanks.” She climbed inside and tucked her hair behind her ears before twisting to reach for the buckle at her shoulder. “Sorry I’m late. Nothing like ending my work day with a Celeste lecture.” She shut the door and leaned to secure her seat belt, her satiny hair swishing like a curtain over her face. “It’s like she waits for the most inconvenient times to tell me everything I’m doing wrong, as if, I don’t know, she’s worked there for the past two decades and didn’t just drop in from the East Coast a week ago. I mean, what makes her believe I have the power to control cancellations? I can’t control them anymore than I can control the wildfires and the smoky air.”

  Rayne’s whirlwind energy shook the last of his morning brain cells awake. He worked to process it all—her body language, her tone, her word choice. But the most surprising realization of the moment wasn’t in her willingness to spill her frustrations to him. It was his desire to want to fix them for her.

  She swung her head to the left and met his eyes for the first time. “What? Why aren’t we driving?”

  Oh. Right. “I was listening.”

  “I’m sure I sound petty, but if you met her you’d understand. It’s just . . . she makes me feel like I’m going crazy.”

  “You don’t sound petty.” Levi put the truck into gear and rolled down the drive to signal onto the old country highway. “But I’ll refrain from commenting on the crazy thing.” He shot her a sidelong glance.

  She pushed at his shoulder. “Don’t think I won’t jump from a moving vehicle.”

  “And that would do what exactly? Besides prove my point.”

  She let out a mix between a chuckle and a sigh and then spotted her thermos from this morning. “Please tell me you delivered on your promise?” She reached for the coffee and he trapped her hand inside his.

  “Not so fast.”

  “Holding out on caffeine from a girl who just pulled an all-nighter is cruel and unusual punishment. I’m really not up for one of your trivia games if that’s what you have in mind. I’m fresh out of hidden talents.”

  “No trivia today.” He released her and leaned over her seat, continuing to steer as he flicked open the glove box and pulled out a tattered logging road map. He tossed it on her lap. “I need you to play navigator.”

  “I should’ve known you had a secret agenda—inviting me along. What if I told you I have no sense of direction and can’t read a map?”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “I’d know you were lying.”

  “Because”—she tilted her head to the side and squinted—“you figured anyone raised on as much wooded land as I was would know how to read a map?”

  “That, and your tells haven’t gotten any better. But don’t fret, we’ll work on that.”

  She unfolded the map and trailed her slender finger along the highway until she located their nearest exit. “Do you have directions for us?”

  Levi lifted her thermos and handed it to her. Attached to the shiny red aluminum was a yellow Post-it note. She peeled the memo off, read his hastily written chicken scratch aloud, and uncapped the spout, taking a test sip.

  “As good as you remembered?” he asked.

  She took a longer sip. “Better, actually.” Pursing her lips, she returned her attention to the map and reread his shorthand directions. “I really hope your map proves a better guide than your scribbles.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with my handwriting. Or my directions.”

  “Except that they’re incomplete.”

  “They are not.” Levi snatched the sticky note from her hand. “I talked to Marshal Harris myself.”

  “You have two logging roads written down—but no road that connects them. They don’t meet.”

  He frowned and reached for the map.

  “Nuh-uh.” She pulled it away. “This is my job, remember? Your job is to drive and trust your navigator. Give me a minute to study this. You don’t have to turn off for another twenty miles or so anyway.” She flattened the wrinkly atlas on her lap once more.

  Levi rubbed his chin and peered at her every few seconds from the corner of his eye. It was hard to reconcile his early encounters with Rayne—her timidity and hesitation weren’t anywhere to be found now. He hadn’t been wrong about her exactly, but she had surprised him. On multiple occasions. She’d proved to be one of the most unique people he’d ever known, special in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

  “Okay, so I think I’ve figured it out. You wrote one of the forest service numbers down wrong. Inverted it. There wasn’t a missing road, it was just that service road two-three-seven was really three-two-seven.” She tapped the microscopic lines in triumph. “Bet you’re thankful this legally blind companion of yours has her contacts in today.”

  “Good thing I like more than your eyes, Shelby.”

  She gave a halfhearted eye roll. “And it’s a good thing I like more than your smart mouth.”

  Whatever had shifted inside of Rayne in the time between his unannounced lodge visit and their field trip to the fire camp, Levi wasn’t complaining. She rested her feet on the dash, a slight bend to her knee and a look of comfortable tranquility on her face.

  As they drove, she asked him question after question about Second Harvest—the concept behind farm-to-table deliveries, the clientele he marketed to, even his vision for the farm’s future. And all the while, she remained rapt with interest.

  At her command, he steered left, cutting his speed in half.

  Hot dust plumed in clouds around them as he pulled onto a service road through the dense forest. Pine trees enclosed them at every angle, while thick smoke hung overhead, the stench of burning foliage venting through his air conditioner.


  “We have one more turn up here in about seven miles,” she said, studying the tops of the trees. “So this food pantry you started, tell me about it.”

  The fact that she’d chosen that particular topic to land on, after all they’d discussed, chipped at something inside his chest. “What do you want to know about it?”

  “How it works? How you’ve set it up? Who you will reach out to?”

  “Geesh. Maybe you should’ve been a reporter.”

  Her smile appeared gracious enough, yet he wondered at the reticence he noted in her eyes.

  “Part of the expansion we’ve planned, bringing on investors and business partners as well as farmers outside of Shelby Falls, would allow Second Harvest to contribute a higher percentage to the pantry. Right now it’s just an oversized closet in our warehouse filled with nonperishables, but our vision is to grow it into a warehouse of its own. To provide quality produce and products for struggling families, or even—”

  “Teens in transition,” she finished. “Like you were once.”

  “Yeah.” He nodded.

  Again with that indecipherable look, and then she said, “I’m jealous.” She huffed a short laugh that lacked any trace of humor. “I’ve always wanted to be a part of something community focused, something that made a difference in people’s lives the way you’re describing.”

  “So what’s stopping you?”

  She tore her gaze away from him and seemed to ponder his question. He figured either she didn’t have an answer, or if she did, she didn’t want to share it.

  Until she spoke.

  “I’ve had a dream for a long time—to share Shelby Lodge with our community, use some of the common areas to serve. Believe it or not, finding a space to organize events is more difficult than you may think. But the lodge, in my opinion, is ideal.” She released a slow exhale. “Over the years it’s . . . it’s become so segregated, so set apart from the rest of Shelby Falls. And as much as I love the lodge, as much as it’s home to me, I hate the stigma it holds in our town. I hate how quiet it is, how closed off we are to people who’ve been nothing but supportive of my family for decades.”

  Her words settled between them like a fog, and for first time, he had nothing to say. No quip, no joke, no sarcastic comment. He could only think of one person whose heart matched the depth he’d heard in hers. The only person she claimed to despise.

  “So who doesn’t share your opinion?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “You said ‘in my opinion’ when talking about using the common areas of the lodge for community events. Does your family not agree with your ideas?” No big shocker there.

  “With the . . . recent reconfiguration of staff it might be a while before my vision comes to fruition.” She straightened as if to heave an invisible wall of positivity into place, and perhaps to block any more of his prying questions. “But I’m not giving up. Timing is everything, ya know?”

  He simply nodded. He did know.

  “Do you ever worry about the sustainability of Second Harvest?”

  He laughed at her obvious diversion. “The farm is multifaceted and multifunctional for a reason. We’ll never put all our efforts into just one branch of the farm. Wouldn’t be smart.”

  Levi snuck a glance at his passenger, wondering how much she’d be willing to hear, considering Ford’s increased level of involvement in this conversation. “Ford’s old school. He values hard work more than trends, even if those trends can put a big chunk of money into his bank account. But we seem to have found a good balance, a rhythm that works.”

  She pondered his statement quietly and then said, “You know a lot about business.”

  “Guess I’m a quick study.”

  “No, it’s more than that. Celeste has all kinds of fancy business degrees, but you have . . . instinct.” He felt her gaze wander over his profile.

  “I don’t know if it’s instinct as much as profiling an opportunity when I see it. In my experience, opportunity doesn’t just come knocking.”

  “You mean, you’re not afraid to search for it.”

  “Most people seek after the shiny Aladdin’s lamp version of opportunity, waiting for a bout of good luck to come their way.”

  “And you don’t?”

  He eyed her. “Every opportunity worth pursuing comes with a price tag. Either sweat or sacrifice. Sometimes both.”

  She braced an elbow in the crook between the door and window to support her head.

  He pumped the brake gently. “According to these fresh tire tracks, I’m thinking this is my turn here.”

  She jolted upright. “Yes, sorry. Turn here.”

  He reached for her shoulder and kneaded his fingers into her tight muscles. “Relax.”

  “Careful, I’ll fall asleep if you don’t quit that.”

  “Maybe that would be best.”

  “No way. I came to help you.”

  “You’ve already helped me. You navigated. Kept me company.”

  She perked her head up and stared at him through half-squinted eyes. “Don’t underestimate me. I’m a hard worker.”

  He wondered at the edge of defensiveness in her tone. Was that how she’d been made to feel in the past? Underestimated?

  “Though I have no doubt that’s true,” he began, “many of the crews here will be from local dispatchers. If you hope to keep a low profile around me, then you should probably chill out in the truck. It shouldn’t take me longer than forty minutes or so to unload these boxes and check in with my contact here. It will give you some time to take a nap.”

  He took her lack of argument as agreement.

  As they came to the start of the clearing, Rayne scooted to the front of her seat, her eyes flickering left to right. “Oh my goodness. It’s like a minicity.”

  They’d reached the edge of the forest, which opened up to a large field housing hundreds of pop-up tents; a semitruck for showers; a dozen or more porta-potties; and several large canopy shelters for dining, food, and supply storage.

  “Wow . . . I had no idea.” Reverence laced her voice.

  Levi rolled along, looking for a place to park when a crew of three sooty, fresh-from-the-wild firemen ambled from their nearby quad cab. Obviously exhausted from their last shift, they seemed to be heading in the direction of the shower semi.

  Levi braked to let them cross, paying extra attention to the lopsided gait of the man at the rear. His steps were unsteady at best—clunky, heavy, unbalanced—and then he was on the ground, face-planted in the dust.

  Levi jammed the gearshift into park and threw open his door. He called out to the men yards ahead of their fallen crew member.

  He skidded to a stop, dropped to his knees, and rolled the unconscious fireman onto his side. Blood streamed from his nose, creating a trail through the dirt and grime. He was young. The guy didn’t even look old enough to vote.

  “He passed out,” Levi told the two firemen who joined him.

  The bulkier of the two cursed and chucked his helmet to the ground, the white of his teeth a blinding contrast to the soot mask on his face. His scowl mirrored that of a grizzly bear. “I told the kid this would happen if he wasn’t monitoring his water intake. Probably dehydrated. Shed his gear, he’ll need fluids over at medical.”

  “I’ll help shoulder him,” Levi said, stripping off as much of the bulk from the rookie’s beaten body as he could.

  “And I’ll help carry his gear.”

  Rayne’s voice caused Levi’s head to swivel. Sure enough, every object the men tore off the kid, Rayne collected, soot and debris smearing her clothing and skin. She pulled on the suspender straps of the web-gear belt, draped his reflective jacket over her arm, and clutched the helmet and safety goggles to her shirtfront.

  “On my count,” the grizzly fireman bit out. “One, two, three.”

  They hoisted the kid up by his armpits and linked their arms around his back, maneuvering him like a wounded solider. The toes of his boots dragged behind
him in the dust.

  The moment they cleared the medical tent, the field doctor gestured toward an open bed.

  “The kid’s dehydrated,” Grizzly announced to the doctor. “Smacked his face on the dirt when he passed out.” He shrugged the coming-to fireman onto a stiff cot. “I swear, I’m not paid enough to babysit a newbie.”

  “His name?” the doctor asked.

  “Pascal. Kevin, I think,” the fireman behind Grizzly stated.

  “It’s likely heat exhaustion as well as dehydration. Third one today,” the doctor said as he moved to check Pascal’s vitals and start a bag of IV fluids. “We’ll get him good as new in no time. Remove his boots for me, please.”

  “He needs to be sent home to work at his local Dairy Queen if you ask me. These young recruits barely have a license to drive and yet here they are, sent into the wild to fight fires.” Grizzly made a halfhearted attempt to unlace the boots.

  The second crew member sat at the edge of a nearby cot, his head bowed. “It was brutal out there today—newbie or not. Go clean up and get some shut-eye, Chris. I’ll stay with Pascal.”

  Pascal groaned and stutter-blinked as he came to. “Wh-what happened?”

  Grizzly took full advantage of the vulnerable question. “Exactly what I told you would happen if—”

  “Hang on a minute.” Levi stepped forward, his hand out as if to block a coming blow. “Let’s give the kid a chance to recover, okay?”

  Grizzly shot Levi a murderous glare before swiping his helmet from Rayne’s hands, much too roughly for Levi’s liking.

  Levi stared after him, his blood heating.

  “Sorry about him,” the other crew member said. “Just know Chris’s short temper has nothing to do with this, or with either of you. His good friend and partner was medevaced to a hospital yesterday after a widowmaker trapped him near the fire line. Everyone’s extratemperamental right now. He doesn’t mean to be cross; he’s just on edge.”

  Levi nodded and the man stuck out his hand.

  “I’m Jason Albright. Thanks for your help, by the way. With Pascal.”