Daring to Fall

by T. J. Kline

  Dedication

  To my family and friends, I can’t thank you enough for joining me on this journey.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Acknowledgments

  An Excerpt from Making the Play

  Chapter One

  About the Author

  Also by T. J. Kline

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Chapter One

  “Hey, Ben, I have a favor to ask.”

  Ben McQuaid rolled his eyes skyward. Of course, his brother Andrew needed another favor. Lately, Ben seemed to be the one doing the favors more often than receiving any. But, that’s what brothers did for one another, right? And with six siblings, most of them younger, that added up to be a lot of favors.

  “Make it quick, I’m on my way into the fire station for my shift.”

  “Good, because this is more of an official call than a favor anyway. I need you to head down to the Quinn place on Mosquito Road. Apparently, there’s a cat stuck in a tree. It seems stupid to call it in to the firehouse and drag the engine out for a cat. See? I’m actually doing you a favor and saving you all that cleaning and polishing you have to do just for driving a truck out of the garage.”

  They’d be cleaning the engine anyway. Plus, without an engine, Ben had no ladder to get up the tree. “So, what you’re suggesting is that I shimmy up the tree the way I did when we were ten to get the football you and Grant would get stuck.”

  Andrew’s chuckle sounded through the receiver. “Pretty much. Look, the call just came in from dispatch and you’ve got to drive by there on your way into town anyway. No sense in making it an official call.”

  There was nothing about this that was a favor for Ben. “What’s wrong, is there an apple fritter with your name on it? This way you save yourself the effort of having to fill out another police report, right?” Andrew wasn’t fooling him.

  “There’s that too.” Ben heard Andrew address someone else in the background. “Hey, I have to run. There’s a domestic dispute at the winery. You got this, right?”

  “Yeah, I’ll take care of it,” Ben said with a sigh.

  “Thanks. I owe you one.”

  “One?” Ben muttered to himself as the receiver disconnected in his ear and he took the turn off onto Mosquito Road. “You owe me more than that.”

  He wasn’t looking forward to this. Hollister Quinn was one of those old guys who spoke his mind, loudly and often. He’d been the first in line to protest the latest upgrades being done to spruce up their small foothill town. Said he liked it rustic, the way it’d been for years and that it should stay that way. However, now that there was talk about Hidden Falls trying to become more of a tourist attraction along the way to Tahoe, an idea that would bring higher profits for local businesses which, in turn, kept the town thriving, Quinn was complaining even more. A visit with Quinn, even to retrieve a kitten, was sure to bring a lengthy lecture about how the people of Hidden Falls were selling out. Ben rubbed the knots of tension already building at the back of his neck.

  Pulling into the circular driveway in front of the Quinn house, he maneuvered his pickup between several other vehicles, none of which were Hollister’s. A crowd was already gathered under one of the tall pines in the front yard.

  “Great,” the old man complained as Ben edged closer to the chaos. “Please, tell me you’re here to do something productive, not just here to gawk like everyone else. I need someone to get that damn thing outta my tree.” He pointed to where a tabby kitten yowled loudly from a high branch on the tree.

  Ben squinted, following the old man’s gaze. “Are you sure that’s a cat? It doesn’t look—”

  “What else would it be?” Quinn rolled his eyes before glaring at Ben and shoving him toward the god-awful howling the cat in the tree was making. “Do your job, fireman, and get that thing down.” He turned away, muttering something about the woman running the animal sanctuary down the road but Ben didn’t quite catch it and he wasn’t about to risk having the old man rip him a new one again.

  “Sure thing, Mr. Quinn,” Ben agreed, wondering again why he’d wanted to be a firefighter. Sweating it out with the cattle on his parents’ ranch sounded a hell of a lot better right now than climbing a tree to get the shit clawed out of him by a frightened kitten.

  He glanced around at the large group of neighbors that had come to watch, curious at the interest for a simple kitten stuck in a tree. It wasn’t a big enough deal to warrant this sort of hullabaloo. The kitten yowled louder and Ben had just lifted his foot onto the ladder Quinn had left braced against the side of the tree when Ellie Quinn, the old man’s daughter, hurried to his side.

  “Ben, I’m sorry. I tried to get my dad to just leave the poor thing alone, but you know how he is.” She shot him a coy smile and her eyelashes fluttered.

  Ellie was a nice woman. The same age as his younger sister and obviously interested in him. She was sweet, kind to everyone she met, a member of the local women’s shelter planning committee and generous to a fault. In fact, she was exactly what he wanted in a woman, plus she had a “girl next door” quality that made her adorable. His mother had been trying to set them up for months, reminding him that he should be giving her grandchildren before she was too old to enjoy them. The problem was, Ben wasn’t attracted to Ellie at all. He wanted to be, but every time he was around her, there was no stirring in him, no warm fuzzies like he’d had with other women. Nothing to get a rise out of him, so to speak, at all. It was almost like he wanted to continually find himself getting screwed over by crazy women. “Don’t worry about it, Ellie,” he said, waving a hand in her direction and looking up the tree. “I’ll just get this guy down and he’ll take off back home.” Ben wasn’t nearly as confident about his ability to get the cat down as he sounded but Ellie was sweet. He couldn’t blame her for her cantankerous father.

  She cocked her head and gave him a confused look. “Oh. Um, okay.”

  Putting one foot over the other as he climbed the ladder, trying to ignore the jeers and shouts from below, Ben pulled himself into a fork in the tree, hanging his legs over the branch as he straddled it. He could barely see the spotted fluffy coat of the kitten but, from what he could see, it was definitely young. He’d never understand how a stupid animal could get itself into a tree but couldn’t get back out. Then again, it wasn’t like people didn’t get themselves into some pretty precarious positions they couldn’t figure their way out of.

  Tucking his feet under him so he was squatting on the limb, grateful for the heavy tread of his work boots, Ben reach for a thick branch to his right, using it to swing him to the V beside where the cat was hiding. The gasp from the onlookers below nearly made him laugh. Sure, falling would be painful but the fifteen-foot landing into mulch couldn’t hurt any more than the second story floor of an old farmhouse collapsing from under him during a call and dropping him into the co
ncrete basement below. Those two fractured ribs had hurt like hell.

  Straddling the second branch, he watched the kitten for a moment. The poor animal was scared out of its mind. Its big blue eyes were round with fear and, from this vantage point, he could see that it was a matted mess. Tiny claws clung to the rippled bark of the tree and he wondered how he was possibly going to convince the frightened animal to let go without his very vulnerable bare arm replacing the tree trunk under its claws.

  “Here, kitty,” he called quietly. The cat turned toward him and he saw the unmistakable black tufts over the kitten’s ears. It turned away again, edging out onto the branch and he saw the stubby tail.

  Holy crap, that is not a cat. It’s a freakin’ bobcat kitten.

  “Shit,” he muttered. “That damn brother of mine owes me big time.”

  Emma Jordan paused at the doorway of the reinforced chain link gate that separated her from the nearly one hundred and fifty pounds of pacing lithe mountain lion to eye the truck heading down her long driveway. The cat chuffed at her, making the noise of pleasure deep in his throat, rubbing his face along the fence line. “Okay, Buster, I’ll be right back with your breakfast.”

  Interrupting the animals’ feeding schedule was something she rarely did, especially with the animals that couldn’t be rehabilitated and released back into the wild. They needed routine but visitors at feeding time was an even worse prospect than a grouchy cougar. She hurried back to the old golf cart and headed for the front gate. Sierra Tracks Animal Sanctuary wasn’t open for visitors any longer, not since her father had suddenly changed his policy and stopped his educational programs after his first stroke a year ago, complaining he just couldn’t keep up. It was probably better that he’d slowed down, but it had hurt the facilities bottom line, putting them into the red for the first time. It was one of the things she intended to change now that she’d been thrust into taking over after his death, but she lacked the manpower to give tours for now. Until she could find some more funding, it would have to wait. Just one more in a long list of changes she wanted make now that she’d become the director of Sierra Tracks.

  Emma jumped out of the golf cart before it had even fully come to a stop. She barely caught a glimpse of dark hair and broad shoulders as the driver turned back toward the front seat of his truck. “Sorry, we’re not open for business to the public and I’m not giving any more interviews.”

  “You’re what?” The deep baritone voice was as warm and rich as fine chocolate. “No, I’m not here for that.”

  Emma caught herself before she audibly gasped as he turned around. This man looked like a fitness model with his dark, spiky, slightly gelled hair, rippling physique and t-shirt showing off a sleeve tattoo on his right arm. Bumping the truck door shut with his hip, he walked up to the iron gate with a cardboard box cradled between his hands. “You’re in charge?”

  He didn’t walk, he swaggered up to her gate. And when he smiled, she felt her entire stomach do a flip. Who the hell is this guy?

  Her stomach righted itself and she clenched her jaw at the judgmental tone that reminded her that people weren’t happy she’d taken over for her father. The torch had passed to her and several people were already voicing the serious doubts they had whether she was qualified or could handle it on her own. Apparently they didn’t know about her veterinary degree or the fact that she’d worked as the head trainer at a large animal park in Southern California. Her experience didn’t matter, or they didn’t care. Not that working at the park had ever prepared her for the vast amount of work she faced here on a daily basis, alone for the most part. She couldn’t deny that there were days she was sure people might be right about her capabilities being lacking. However, her father’s death hadn’t left her any other options.

  “Yes.”

  “Thank goodness.” He sighed in relief as he pressed the box in her direction. “This is for you. I was afraid I’d be stuck with him.”

  Emma felt relief wash over her as she heard quiet scratches coming from the box. He’d probably found some kind of bird and hadn’t known where else to take it. This was something she could handle. Taking in a wounded bird was easy compared to dealing with the reporters who kept calling and refused to understand that “no comment” really meant exactly that. This she could handle in her sleep.

  She punched the code into the keypad, waiting for the electric gate to slide open before holding out a hand. “I’m Emma Jordan, Conrad’s daughter.”

  Mr. Fitness Model looked her up and down. “You?”

  Emma arched a brow, waiting for him to explain. She didn’t expect most people to recognize her. She’d kept herself secluded at the sanctuary as much as possible since her return. People weren’t her forte, animals were. And it wasn’t like she’d been to visit much over the past eight years. She was too busy finishing vet school and trying to land a job. Too busy to realize just how much was changing at the sanctuary over the last five years, after her father hired his two assistants, Jake and Brandon. Too busy to realize that he’d been second-guessing what they’d discussed for the future of Sierra Tracks and them working together for the past year.

  “It’s just that you . . . don’t look anything like your dad. Well, other than the red hair.”

  “I’m assuming you were a friend.” She didn’t remember him coming around the ranch while she’d been here, and Emma wouldn’t have forgotten this guy. It wasn’t every day fantasies came to her door.

  “Oh, sorry.” He rubbed his hand on the side of his thigh before reaching for hers. “I’m Ben McQuaid. I’m actually on my way to the firehouse and stopped when I got a call. I figured it’d be better to bring this little guy to you on my way.” She eyed the box as a curious mewl came from inside. “So? You want him here, or should I take him up to the barn?”

  “I guess that depends on what ‘he’ is.”

  “Bobcat kitten. He was stuck in a tree up the road at the Quinn place. Hollister suspected he belonged to you.”

  She leaned forward, peeking into the box to see tawny fur and one round blue eye peering back at her. The kitten gave a slight hiss but didn’t cower as she expected him to. Her heart immediately melted slightly and she sighed. She shouldn’t take any more animals in right now, especially since she wasn’t sure she had the manpower now to take care of the sanctuary’s previous rescues, but she knew if she refused, Animal Control would likely have to euthanize the poor thing since she knew they didn’t have the resources to care for him.

  “What made him think he was mine?” She glanced up at the man in front of her, trying not to notice the scent of crisp soap and laundry detergent that came from him and made her pulse skip slightly. She’d actually expected him to be drenched in cologne. In fact, it seemed rare to meet a guy these days who didn’t bathe in the stuff, but she liked that he didn’t.

  “Well,” he hemmed.

  “The articles,” Emma finished for him.

  He shrugged slightly. “It’s Hollister. He’s loud and opinionated and doesn’t like change. Is he? Yours, I mean.”

  Why did everyone assume any wild animal in the area was hers?

  “Nope.” She chewed at the corner of her lip, debating turning the kitten, and the sexy fireman, away purely out of principal. But turning him away would only hurt the poor kitten in the long run and wouldn’t change anyone’s minds. She couldn’t do it. “Can you drive him up to the house?”

  She watched as the guy turned and walked back to his truck. The view was just as good leaving as it was coming toward her. Sliding the box into the truck, Ben glanced over his shoulder toward her, catching Emma watching him. Unfortunately, it took a second longer for her to register that she was still checking out his ass.

  A cocky grin lifted one corner of his mouth, speaking volumes. “It’s okay. I can stand here as long as you like.”

  Heat rushed over her shoulders and up her neck but she wasn’t about to let him think she was that impressed by a few muscles, or that rock-hard butt she�
�d like to try bouncing quarters off. Emma waved her hand at him. “Don’t worry about it. Didn’t see anything I liked anyway.”

  Take that, Mr. Muscles.

  He chuckled quietly as he climbed into the truck and idled it past her slowly, waiting for her to climb back into her golf cart as the electric gate closed. “You sure? Because I think you’ve got a little drool on your chin.”

  Emma glared at him as the furious blush expanded to cover the rest of her neck, her chest and cheeks. Instead of answering him, she slammed her foot down on the gas pedal, pressing it to the floor, and wishing the golf cart would go faster than five miles per hour as she drove past the pompous ass in a pickup truck. She bit her tongue, consoling herself with the thought that any man who drove a truck that big and fancy must be compensating.

  Chapter Two

  Ben knew he should head into the station now that he’d given her the kitten but he wasn’t really in any hurry to clean equipment and they knew he was out on a call. The truth was, after reading the articles about her, he was intrigued to finally meet Emma Jordan.

  She was so focused on the kitten that she acted like she barely even remembered that he was in the room. But Ben couldn’t help but pay full attention to her. Emma Jordan was adorable, especially when he’d caught her checking out his ass and her cheeks turned bright red, making the smattering of faint freckles across the bridge of her nose stand out. She bent over the cat, holding him by the scruff as she looked into his ears and at his eyes before lifting the sides of the animal’s mouth to look at his teeth. It gave him a perfect view of her heart-shaped bottom, cupped by a pair of cargo pants. He couldn’t help taking a good look himself.

  “You said you found him in a tree?”

  Ben’s gaze slammed into hers and she lifted a brow as she caught him checking out her backside. It was the first thing she’d said since she’d ushered him inside the makeshift exam room in the back of the house, so it surprised him. “Uh, yeah. He was about fifteen, maybe twenty feet up, stuck on a branch.”