The move was second nature to Sam and he completed it without injury. He quickly shucked his parachute over his shoulder so he could watch and assess the rest of his team’s landings. He should have known Clark would execute the move with more grace than a cat. But he made a mental note Broxson needed to shed a few pounds to make his landing look effortless. Rivers rolled onto the extra padding sewn into her jumpsuit and Ace yelled something about marshmallows across the meadow at her. The rest of the crew landed without incident, all of them sporting endorphin-fueled smiles on their faces.
“Glacier Creek transport to base,” Sam heard Miranda’s voice on the radio he carried. “Papa and the Bad News Bears have landed. Commence the com transfer.”
There was a chuckle at the other end of the radio when Tyler Dodson’s voice came over it. “I take it everyone is still in one piece, captain?”
“We landed on an effing cushioned mattress, for crying out loud,” Clark grumbled from beside Sam. “The degree of difficulty was negative ten. Everybody had better be in one piece or they’re facing boot camp with the rookies next week.”
Sam’s opinion of Clark rose even higher. Clearly, the guy was into the job.
“Everyone is intact and accounted for,” Sam said into the radio. He watched as the crew was already shedding their Kevlar jumpsuits, pulling items out of the pockets and shoving them into their packs. They then worked in teams of two to secure their parachutes, carefully checking them for any damage before folding and stowing them back into their jump packs.
“Well, you little scouters enjoy your s’mores on the lake,” Dodson was saying. “Ferguson, Kingston, and I will just work our asses off getting this paperwork ready for the start of boot camp next week.”
“Try not to staple your hand to the desk,” Ace called as he rolled up his parachute.
“Check in if you need more marshmallows.” Dodson joked. “Glacier-one out.”
Sam tucked the radio inside the pocket of the down shell he’d brought with him. Normally, smokejumpers wore standard-issue fire gear beneath their Kevlar, but since they’d be wielding axes and kombi shovels to clear trails, they’d all donned comfortable clothing they could work and sleep in. He shoved his helmet into his backpack and grabbed his jump pack.
Broxson and two of the others were busy unpacking the box of equipment Cohen had dropped after they’d all landed. He passed out the four chainsaws to one member of each of the teams of two. Then he strapped the extra water to his own pack while Clark took the other. The afternoon sun was warm on their backs as they hiked two miles east toward the Lake McDonald Ranger Station. Along the way, they made quick work of trees and shrubs overtaking the trail.
Nestled among hundred-foot red cedar trees—some as old as five hundred years—the ranger station looked out over Lake McDonald, a long, narrow nine and half mile body of water that was the largest of the seven hundred and sixty lakes in the park. The vast, blue waters rippled in the spring breeze. Sam stood for a moment admiring the majestic view from the covered front porch of the cabin. Growing up military, he’d lived all over the world, but he didn’t think he’d ever seen anything more beautiful than the view he was enjoying now.
The station wasn’t staffed during the winter months, and the crew’s first task was to make sure it was habitable for the forest ranger arriving for the summer. Sam punched in the code to the log cabin’s front door before throwing it wide open. The movement was met with a wild fluttering when a family of bats dive-bombed Sam’s head before they made their way out of the cabin. Clark doubled over in laughter as Molly Rivers patted Sam on the shoulder.
“Consider yourself initiated, captain,” she said as the rest of the team joined Clark in laughter.
Sam turned to find Broxson with his cell phone out recording the moment. “Hey, remember when Kiffin nearly wet his pants at the bat family. You get points for not squealing like a girl, captain.”
They laughed again and Sam relaxed at the sound of it. He’d planned this outing to test some of his crew. Apparently they were testing him, too. Of course, the odds he’d ever squeal like a girl were pretty much nil, but he liked the idea they were coming to accept him as part of the team.
“Bats are practically the state bird of Texas, Broxson.” Sam stepped into the cabin, careful not to disturb any more winter guests. If bats could get in, so could a rattler. He pulled his pulaski from his pack, just in case. Molly flipped on the generator, bringing the station to life. The three-room building was dusty with a sprinkling of sparkly bat shit, but with a half hour of effort it would be habitable for the crew tonight.
Clark was already dumping his gear and stripping down to his Henley and jeans. “I’m allergic to dust, captain,” he said as he tossed a plunger at Broxson. Then he grabbed his own pulaski, a kombi shovel, and one of the chainsaws. “We’ve got several hours of daylight left. How about if Broxson, Kiffin, and I head out to the campground over at Howie Ridge and knock out whatever work needs to be done there. You girls can get this place shipshape and still have time to catch a couple of trout for dinner.”
“Oh, no you don’t,” Mendez said. With fingers decorated in fire engine red nail polish, she grabbed one of the chainsaws. “Just because I’m female, doesn’t mean I’ll do your cooking and cleaning, Ace Clark.” She gestured at Ryder and Simms. “Come on you two, let’s head over to the falls and clear out that trail.”
Simms winked at Clark as he pulled a fishing pole and a tackle box out of the kitchen pantry. “That’s the best spot in this area for trout anyway. Never let it be said Jessica can’t bring home the dinner and fry it up in a pan,” he said. Mendez stomped off, Simms and Ryder in tow, while the rest of the crew laughed. With a quick salute, Clark and his team took off in the opposite direction.
“Don’t make me have to come out there and rescue your sorry asses,” Molly called after them. She shrugged when she met Sam’s gaze. “Ace has ants in his pants,” she said. “Never could sit still.” She glanced around the cabin. “I’ve got this if you want to explore the area. There’s a lookout tower a few miles toward the trail head. The path to it could likely stand some weeding. The view from the top will give you some perspective on the trails we’ll be working on the next few days.” She grabbed a broom out of the pantry where Ace had found the plunger.
Sam wasn’t sure exactly when he’d lost control of his team, but with boot camp and a long fire season stretching ahead of them, they all needed to blow off a little steam. Yanking the reins back now would only stoke the resentment that had begun to fizzle out. He grabbed his pulaski and a kombi shovel and headed out, following the signs to the trailhead located near the shore of the lake.
“Keep an eye out for bears,” Molly called out just before he made his way off the circular driveway. Sam felt his own endorphins and adrenalin kick in. A confrontation with a bear would definitely suit him today. It wouldn’t be any worse than the showdown he’d had with Laurel Keenan earlier.
He tromped through the brush that threatened to overtake the trail, chopping at it with his pulaski as he walked. The woman was infuriating. One minute, she was kissing him like she wanted to crawl inside of him and the next she was shoving him away, telling him he was too “dangerous”, too “risky”. She was the dangerous one. Dangerous to his mind and body. Every freaking time she came within ten feet of him he wanted to grab her up, hoist her over his shoulder, and haul her off to someplace private where he could unleash the impulsive, passionate woman Laurel was clearly trying to keep contained.
Sam dug out the root of a vine and yanked at it with his hand before tossing it through some trees. He was damned tired of women telling him he was too much of a risk; as if putting himself on the line for his country was something to be ashamed of. He didn’t need that in his life.
He swiped at the sweat forming on his brow, taking a moment to glance out over the lake. Pulling in a deep breath, Sam refocused his mind on the work he and the team needed to get accomplished over the next sevent
y-two hours. He’d committed his crew to clear sixty miles of trails on the south side of Going to the Sun Road, the fifty-mile road that bisected the park. There were several campgrounds that needed to be checked along the way. Three days of hiking, camping, and physical labor should be enough to keep his mind off Laurel Keenan and her mind-blowing kisses.
You haven’t changed. He heard Becky’s disappointed words in his head. You’d still rather run into a fire than face your feelings, she’d accused. She’d been right that horrifying day she’d taken off on Tabitha in a rage, hating him. But he’d rather hurl his body out of a perfectly good airplane than sit around and pick apart his relationship or discuss his fucking feelings. He slashed at the brush until his shoulders ached. And he wasn’t going to change. No way was he giving up the adrenalin rush his work gave him. Not even for a woman who kissed liked Laurel Keenan.
Chapter Five
“Are you sure you have everything?” Laurel asked for what felt like the hundredth time.
Her mother sighed as she wheeled herself toward the SUV her dad was busy loading their suitcases into. “Sweetheart, relax. Whatever Tyson forgets, Bryce will be able to get in California. And Dad and I are only staying in Spokane two nights, but if we need something, they have some wonderful shopping.”
“Which means I’ll be spending all weekend in moldy antique shops and fabric stores,” her father said, trying to look annoyed when Laurel knew the truth was he doted on his wife. “Of course, if we don’t get Tyson in the car, we’ll miss meeting up with Bryce in the Spokane airport this afternoon.”
Laurel walked inside the barn where her son was holding court with Oreo, Truman, Cheech and Chong—the alpacas her father used as pack animals on trail rides—and Pirate, the one-eyed barn cat. “You all had better be on your best behavior while I’m away,” he was saying, practically repeating the speech Laurel had given to her son moments before. “Listen to Mommy and don’t wander off. I’ll see you again in five wake-ups.” She gnawed on her lip as she watched him, one-by-one, hug each animal before racing into Tator Tot’s stall to wrap his arms around the pony’s neck.
“Mickey Mouse is waiting,” she called to him.
Oreo darted between their feet as they walked hand in hand toward the SUV.
“I wish you were coming, too,” Tyson said.
Laurel fought against the tightness in her throat. “We’ve been over this, Tyson. This is your special trip with Daddy. Besides, I have to study, remember?”
“You’re already smart, Mommy,” Tyson argued.
Laurel smiled in spite of her disappointment that Bryce would be getting this experience with their son. “What does Miss Ivy always say?”
“The richest people learn something new every day,” they both said together.
Unable to stop herself, she picked him up. Normally he’d protest that he was too big to be treated like a baby, but today Tyson wrapped his arms around her neck and stared solemnly at her. “Me and Daddy are gonna miss you,” he said before hugging her tightly.
Her parents exchanged worried looks. It was hard to tell how Tyson was going to react to Bryce’s announcement. Laurel only hoped the boy’s father had read some of the parenting books she’d been sending him.
“Who’s ready to go to Disneyland?” her father called out with a clap of his hands.
Tyson jumped down from her embrace and, with one more squeeze of Oreo, he scrambled into his booster seat. Her father helped her mom into the passenger seat.
While her dad stowed the wheelchair in the back, Laurel’s mom quietly tried to reassure her. “Everything will be fine.” Laurel had lost count of the number of times her mother had uttered those words over the years, whether she was saying them to herself or her daughter.
Despite her misgivings, Laurel nodded and gave her mother a hug. “Enjoy your weekend,” she said as she closed the door.
“We’ll call you when we hand him off to Bryce,” her father said with a wave.
Oreo plopped down on Laurel’s boot, whimpering as the SUV pulled away. They stood there long after her family disappeared down the driveway, until Truman gave her a soft butt with his head reminding Laurel that she had things to do. Knowing she’d be a bit of a basket case, she’d taken the day off work under the guise of getting some studying done. But the idea of ten chapters detailing income taxation made her eyes cross, so she headed into the barn instead.
The morning was warm and sunny. Laurel decided to take advantage of the weather by giving Tabitha a workout. With Oreo and Truman looking on, she put the mare in the cross-ties and cleaned the horse’s feet with a hoof pick. Tabitha shifted her body into the brush when Laurel curried her off.
“You like that, eh,” she said as she gave the horse a gentle pat on the rump. “Well, at least one of us won’t be lonely that much longer. Your daddy comes home tonight.”
Tabitha stomped a foot as Laurel pulled the latigo strap on the saddle and cinched it tight on the mare’s girth. She brushed her fingers down the horse’s neck to sooth her while threading the strap through a D-ring on the saddle and tying off the latigo neatly, the process similar to tying a necktie.
“Did you miss him?” she asked while she gently placed the bit between the horse’s teeth. “Don’t tell anyone, but I missed him,” she admitted to the animals assembled in the barn. “I know, I know, nothing can happen between us. But you have to admit, he’s pretty hot.” Laurel pulled the bridle over Tabitha’s head. “And a really great kisser.”
Laurel guided the mare over to the mounting block and climbed into the saddle. Oreo and Truman trotted beside them as they made their way out into the bright sunshine. “A girl can only imagine what other things that guy of yours does well,” she said wistfully.
Unfortunately, Laurel’s body wasn’t having any trouble imagining what Sam Gaskill could potentially do with that talented mouth of his. Or his very capable fingers. Tabitha took off at a fast trot before Laurel even realized she’d been squeezing her thighs together. She relaxed her legs and slowed the horse back down to a walk.
“Anything that happens with Sam would be impulsive,” she admonished herself. “And I’m not impulsive anymore.” Tabitha looked over her shoulder at Laurel. The horse’s big, brown eyes were full of disbelief. “Well, I’m trying not to be.” The mare snorted and swished her tail.
“Yeah, thanks for the support.” Laurel spurred the mare on, shoving images of Sam out of her mind as she lost herself in an effort to become one with the animal beneath her.
*
Ten hours later, Laurel was jerked awake by the ringing of her cell phone. Peeling a page of her textbook from where it had stuck to her cheek, she sat up groggily. Night had fallen and a steady rain was pelting the roof. Oblivious, Oreo was curled into a ball at the other end of the sofa, snoring softly. Laurel checked the caller ID.
“Ivy,” she said into the phone. “What’s up?”
It was nine-thirty on Friday night, and Laurel really hoped her friend hadn’t downed too many appletini’s while stalking Liam at The Drop Zone. Miranda was working tonight, which meant Laurel would be the one to have to rescue their friend. She glanced down at the camisole top and comfy Hello Kitty sleep pants she’d pulled on when she’d finished with Tabitha that morning. No wonder she’d fallen asleep. Ivy was going to really owe her one if she had to get dressed and go out in the rain.
“Hey, you.” Thankfully, Ivy sounded relatively sober. “I’ve decided that my new favorite Hugh Grant movie is Notting Hill. Although, I’m watching Music and Lyrics now and who’s to say what will happen.”
Laurel stood up and stretched, relieved that Ivy was safe and sound at home, apparently enjoying a Hugh Grant marathon. She looked down at the creased page in her textbook, wishing she could enjoy a little of the Brit’s smile right about now. Instead, she wandered into the kitchen and put a pod of coffee in the Keurig. Given how little studying she’d gotten done today, she needed some caffeine to meet her goals.
“What�
��s your favorite Hugh film?” Ivy asked.
“Sense and Sensibility,” Laurel answered without hesitation. “Love Actually would be a close second.”
“Oh, I love when he does the little dance in that one. I wish our elected officials were as much fun as his character. Almost as much as I love him wrapped in a towel in Two Weeks’ Notice.” Ivy paused. “Wait, I think that one’s my favorite Hugh Grant movie.”
The coffee finished brewing. Laurel pulled out her mug, poured in some cream and took a sip. Ivy had a tendency to wax on when she was in the midst of one of her movie marathons.
“Listen, Ivy, I’ve still got”—Laurel frowned as she leafed through her textbook—“six more sections of business law to get through tonight. I want to knock out as much studying as I can while Tyson is away. Can I take a rain check on Hugh Grant?”
“Oh sure.” Ivy said. “I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing out there. Alone. In the rain.”
She’d been doing just great until Ivy reminded her of her situation.
“I’m fine.” She glanced over at Oreo, who was sound asleep. Not that he’d be any help if something came up. “The barn is closed up tight,” she lied. She just realized she’d slept through night check. As soon as she hung up with Ivy, she’d go secure the barn.
“Well, Hugh and I will be here all night. Call me if you need a study break.”
“I’ll do that,” Laurel said as she slid her feet into her Ugg boots. “Let’s plan on dinner tomorrow night. Unless, of course, you’re too busy with Hugh.”
“I was planning on spending tomorrow night with Channing Tatum, but a girl’s gotta eat. Call me in the morning.”
Smolder (Firefighters of Montana Book 1) Page 6
