by Marnee Blake
She met his unreadable gaze. “I thought you were going to kiss me. At my mom’s house.” There. The words were out. “Now you don’t even want to talk to me. So, yeah. I don’t get it at all.”
She blew out a shaky breath. The exhale didn’t make her feel any better. Saying all those words hadn’t fixed anything either. The closed look on his face? Definitely not helping.
She should have left while she was ahead.
He moved so fast, it stole her breath. Three long strides brought him to stand in front of her, only a breath of space between them. He lifted his hands, as if he was going to reach for her, maybe cup her face, but hastily he ran them over his hair before dropping them to his sides.
“God, Meg.” His voice was low and gravely, and the scratchiness of it sent a shiver along her spine. “You…” His gray eyes held hers, searching, pleading. “I never saw you as just Hunter’s little sister. That was always the problem.”
Her heart fluttered, the racing of it so strong she shook with it, with the need to step closer, to fall against him. His scent, a mixture of the wind and spicy soap, along with something raw and warm…she breathed in. She might never get enough of that smell.
“I was supposed to. I never could quite manage it.” His whispered words fanned her face. “And to be clear…I wanted to kiss you at your mom’s house. I still want to kiss you now.”
The words, smooth as honey, as softly spoken as a lullaby, broke over her skin. She licked her lips, her gaze dropping to his mouth. He’d been going to kiss her? Did he really still want to kiss her?
“Please. Stop.” At his pained words, her eyes met his again. His jaw was tight, and his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. “Stop looking at me like that. I already want to touch you so badly it hurts.”
The air between them heated. She could see it play out. She could tell him that she wanted that too, that she couldn’t remember a time when she didn’t want to kiss him.
If he’d touched her, she would have done it. She didn’t think she was strong enough to withstand the intensity of his gaze and his touch at the same time. Kissing Lance Roberts would fulfill ever girlish dream she’d had and, if she was honest, a few of her full-grown woman dreams, too.
“But this…it doesn’t change anything.” He stepped back two steps. He shook his head, his voice just above a whisper. “There can’t ever be anything here, between us.”
The words slammed into her with the force of a wrecking ball. As he turned away, returning to the table, she rubbed her forehead with her fingers. “You said…”
He tilted his head up to the ceiling, and when he spun back, he chuckled. “I know what I said. But you’re still my trainer. And I’m still a recruit. Starting anything with you…not a smart idea.” He shrugged. “Besides, even if you weren’t in charge of my training, you said you don’t get involved with firefighters. And I’m definitely a firefighter. That isn’t going to change.”
Searching his face, she tried to find any trace of the heat she’d seen there before.
She hadn’t imagined it. And she hated how much she’d liked being something he wanted. It was as if someone had dangled candy in front of a child, promising to share, and then changed their mind at the last moment.
And of course, he was right. The space between them allowed the years of insecurity to meld with all the concerns of today.
His arguments were sensible, responsible. They were the exact reasons she should have offered to stay away. Hearing him voice them…brutal.
She had some pride, though. So, she bit her lip and squared her shoulders. “Of course, you’re right. I agree completely.” She glanced at the parachutes, anything to stop looking at him.
“Why don’t I look these over, to make sure they’re good. As your trainer.”
“You don’t have to—”
“No.” She managed a smile, but it was painful. “I don’t mind at all.” Nothing was going to make her run away.
He shrugged, shoving a bag toward her. “I’ve packed these three.”
She scanned the pack, went through the usual checklist. His eyes burned through her the entire time, and though she didn’t want to squirm, didn’t want to run, there was only so much she could take.
Finally, when she’d looked over all of them, she pushed back. She was leaving a piece of herself there, on the table in the loft. “Looks good. I’ll leave you to it.”
* * * *
As she walked backwards, away from him, he forced his features into a grin that would probably condemn him to hell. It hurt his face. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his Carhart pants, so he could hold them still, keep from reaching for her.
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” He couldn’t believe how breezy the words sounded.
“Right. Of course.”
“Meg…” Her name was a groan on his lips.
“No.” She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she’d put her shields up. “Seriously. You’re right.” Her mouth twisted in what he assumed was her attempt at a smile. It sliced his stomach into ribbons.
“Always.” The word came out by rote.
“I mean…about us.”
He could not listen to this. Having a front row seat while she mentally agreed with why he was a bad idea…already awful. Hearing her voice the words? No thanks.
He’d been truthful. Taking a chance on them was risky as hell. It affected her job. It would cause a rift in her family. Hell, he was a wild card. He had been gone for ten years. She didn’t know him anymore.
Even if they could work through those obstacles, he was still a firefighter—a smokejumper—like her brothers, and like their fathers before them. And none of that compared to what he might find if he kept digging into their fathers’ deaths.
It would be better—personally and professionally—if this didn’t even get off the ground.
He tried a smile. He’d been faking this kind of smile for a long time and he hoped it was convincing. Returning to the table, he put some much-needed space between them. “Absolutely. This—” he waved his hand between them, in the space he’d created. “This is a no-go.”
“Right.” She nodded again. “You’re not good for me.”
The words were knives. “Exactly. No worries, firecracker. We’re good here. I swear.” He nudged his head at her. “See you around.”
He needed her to go, before he said something he’d regret.
Not that he would take back anything he’d told her. Nope. In fact, admitting that he’d spent forever wanting her…God, that part had been liberating. He didn’t keep secrets well, lived in the moment. Holding back didn’t suit him at all.
It hurt to look at her, to keep the stupid grin on his face. When she finally nodded and waved before backing down the stairs, he exhaled a shaky breath, leaning forward on the table and letting his head fall between his shoulder blades.
It was for the best. Every rational part of him knew that to be true.
He only wished it was different.
When he came home, how had he believed he could fix everything? He snorted, shaking his head. Maybe he’d be able to fix some things, but this? This wasn’t one of them.
He needed to leave her alone, learn to pretend she wasn’t there, that he didn’t want her every second of every day.
Except…he wasn’t that good of an actor.
Chapter 10
Monday morning, Lance stood at attention alongside the remaining recruits.
It had been a long night. After Meg left him in the loft, he’d been unable to focus. He’d gone to bed and been unable to sleep.
In front of him, Will and two other seasoned smokejumpers stood next to the packed chutes the recruits had been working on all weekend. Each of them had been tasked with packing the chutes, putting their initials on them. Last night, in need of a distraction, he’d gone
over the three he’d packed over and over, checking and rechecking the straps and the folds. He’d done it perfectly, like Meg said.
The three smokejumpers went through each pack, picking them apart and praising or criticizing the recruits’ techniques.
Lance did his best to concentrate on Will and the others, but when Meg stepped out of the air center with Mitch, his focus shifted to her, as always.
God, she was gorgeous. Her auburn hair caught the morning light, and her flawless pale skin looked translucent. But it was her mouth, those full, rosy lips. He ached all night, thinking about them. When he’d told her he wanted to kiss her, he’d watched her mouth slip open, her tongue touch her bottom lip, and he’d gone so hard he’d wanted to groan with it.
“Who the hell did this?” Tim, one of the older jumpers, lifted a chute. The material had gaping slashes in it, as if someone had taken a knife to the fabric.
Will inspected the pack on the ground, the bag Tim had obviously pulled the chute out of. “It’s got Roberts’s initials on it.”
“Roberts.” Tim’s shrewd gaze found him. “What do you know about this?”
“Nothing, sir.” He couldn’t look away from the mangled equipment. The chutes they used were expensive. Because their job was so specialized, they custom made a lot of their equipment, including their parachutes. This was a costly act of vandalism.
And a chute he’d packed.
He forced himself to hold Tim’s eyes, even though he wanted to look at the others, search for guilt. Did someone else in the rookie class want to see him fail so badly that they’d destroy smokejumper property to get it done?
“You didn’t notice this chute was ripped when you packed it?” Tim’s eyebrows lifted.
“The chute wasn’t ripped when I packed it.” It was the truth. He’d checked every parachute for the smallest imperfections. “They were perfect.”
Whoever sabotaged that chute was sending a message, the same message he’d gotten in the note in his Jeep, the same message he got every time something of his was taken or ruined. They wanted Lance gone.
Who the hell was it? Sledge, in retaliation for jumping him the other day? Guy was a giant dickhead. Still, Sledge was a rule follower. Even Lance could tell that his biggest issue with him was that he wasn’t. Lance made him nervous.
He definitely didn’t seem the sort to destroy smokejumper property.
Who then?
Whoever it was, they were becoming more daring. He could write off broken things or a note as a prank. This was something else.
Lance needed to watch his back.
Had someone learned he was looking into his father’s death? Had that pissed someone off enough to wreck smokejumper property?
Tim’s face tightened. Lance could see the rash of shit he was going to get for this. Hell, if he’d willfully packed the chute, he’d deserve it. But, this wasn’t his fault. Even while he braced himself for whatever chewing out he was about to receive, he seethed.
He would have never done that.
Meg’s voice sliced through the air. “I checked his packs.”
Tim spun to study her. His face smoothed, the way a lot of the smokejumpers seemed to when they dealt with her. It was a mixture of politeness and a little wariness. She hadn’t earned her place here yet. “You did?”
“I did.” She wrapped her arms around the clipboard in her hands. “I checked out the loft last night, while Mr. Roberts was packing his chutes. I thought he might appreciate another eye—I’d sat through the training as well, wanted to see how I’d do.” She added an open grin then. “I looked them over. They were done correctly.”
Her fingers trailed along the decimated fabric in Tim’s hand. “Someone must have done this after he left.” She dropped her hand, her mouth tight, and her eyes met his.
Their conversation last night stretched between them. The weight of it tightened his throat. Even after he had hurt her, purposely put distance between them, she stuck up for him.
The trainer glanced at the parachute. Lance watched unease pass over his features. A smokejumper’s equipment was an extension of them. This was a gross violation. His outrage was understandable.
He watched realization dawn. None of the recruits would ruin the equipment, not like this. They might make mistakes with it or miss something out of negligence. This went beyond negligence to malevolent.
Someone had tried to set Lance up. To scare him. Maybe to scare them all.
This went past trying to get Lance thrown out, though. Someone had slashed at the fabric with a knife. Hacked it up.
This threatened violence.
Tim nodded to Meg before addressing Lance. “Roberts. Is that true?”
“Sir, I swear to you that I would never knowingly ruin smokejumper materials.” He hoped the other man could hear his conviction, and if he caught a little defensiveness, so be it. Hell, he was pissed off. He’d spent his entire adult life trying to prove that he wasn’t the kind of person to cause a scandal.
That he wasn’t his father.
“I saw his packs last night,” Meg repeated. “I’m certain if you give him the chance, he’ll be able to replicate them.”
Tim glanced between them, and then nodded. He tossed the tattered parachute on the ground, disgusted. “This is unacceptable. I don’t know who did this.” He stared at each of the recruits, his eyes as sharp as daggers. “If I find out, not only will you be removed from training, I’ll call the cops.”
“Sir,” Lance said. “I’ll repair the chute.” He hadn’t made the mess, but the offer might go a long way toward repairing trust. The last thing he needed was any of the trainers deciding he wasn’t worth the effort. Stunts like this were a distraction.
Damn it. One more thing to worry about here.
“Fine.” Tim’s face tightened. “Let’s go for a run. If someone here has the time and energy left at the end of the day to wreck our equipment, then maybe we aren’t working you guys hard enough.”
Lance mentally groaned. He understood the point of this, showing the entire group that the actions of one affected them all. But, he couldn’t help wondering if it wouldn’t also breed animosity toward him.
“Be dressed in five.”
As they all trotted off to the bunkhouse to prepare, Lance caught sight of Meg.
She’d defended him. By doing so, she’d outed them, that they’d spoken last night. That she was speaking to him privately. He couldn’t imagine that was a good thing for her job. Even if she’d only been checking on his work, it still suggested preferential treatment.
Why had she gone out on a limb for him? He appreciated it, but it had probably been damaging for her. She should have stayed out of it, for her own good. He could have handled it himself.
Even as he thought it, he acknowledged that it was easier this way. She had more credibility than he did. And, though he hated that she’d had to do it, he couldn’t help but admire her guts.
God, this woman. Every time he had himself under control, she did something else to make him want her even more. Not just because she was gorgeous, though that didn’t hurt. But because she was so incredibly unselfish, such a fine person.
He tore his gaze from her.
The guys were going to go out for a drink tonight. Their first practice jump was tomorrow, and everyone was a little nervous.
Maybe he should tag along. It would be better than spending another night alone in his room, hard and wanting her.
* * * *
The music in the lounge in Bend was louder than Meg remembered. She didn’t listen to club music regularly, but she’d never noticed how hard it was to think with it on.
Her two girlfriends, Charlotte and Olivia, sat across from her at the high-top table. Olivia was a nurse in the practice where Meg worked, and Charlie was a physical therapist they used. She’d begun her practice i
n Bend only a couple years ago, but Meg liked working with her. She was incredibly thorough and universally admired by her clients.
Charlie sipped from a cosmopolitan and asked, “So, are they all good looking?” She had to yell over the music. Her eyes crinkled at the corners, her expression teasing.
Meg had been fielding questions about the smokejumper recruits since she met the girls tonight. She took a sip of her red wine and forced a smile as she yelled back, “They’re in top physical shape. That’s my job.”
“Yeah, but are they hot?”
She rolled her eyes, trying to deflect.
Olivia clapped her hands together, squealing. “Can we meet them?”
Meg laughed with her friends, but it felt wrong. Probably because it was fake. She didn’t see them like that. The recruits at the air center were in great physical conditioning, and they’d only gotten more toned in the past nearly two weeks. But, thinking of them like that negated the sense of purpose in what they all did there. It reduced hours of work, of expertise, of intense seriousness, to girlish fantasy.
Fine, they were hot. They were physically attractive, sure, but that wasn’t the half of it. There was something so sexy about someone who was doing a job that not that many people would or could do. It overshadowed how they looked. While they were enough to send the libidos of women far and wide into spasms, the smokejumpers and rookies at the base were also professionals who took their jobs of saving lives very seriously. Pretending they were just a bunch of pretty faces made her uncomfortable. She respected them, every smokejumper and smokejumper recruit she’d worked with so far. Their professionalism, their dedication. Pretending that she didn’t opened an unwelcome chasm between her and her friends.
For the past two years, she’d hung out with these women. They’d shared drinks, gone to dinner. As they socialized, she believed she was building a life here in Bend.
Now, she wondered if that life was actually as satisfying as she’d once thought or if she had been fooling herself.
