by Grey, Helen
Flaming Desire
PART 4
By Helen Grey
Copyright © 2015 Helen Grey
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Book Description
This is Part 4 of "Flaming Desire" – a five part Hot Alpha Billionaire Romance Series by Helen Grey.
Three little words can bring tremendous joy. Those three same words can bring tremendous pain. For Jesse, she just wants to take them back. What was she thinking? Because her outburst has changed everything.
Determined not to show him how deeply his silence has hurt her, she focuses all her energy upon the fire that refuses to be controlled. It has changed direction, increasing the destruction and danger. It’s intent on consuming everything in its path. Including her.
This book is intended for a mature audience, 18+ only.
Chapter 1
The rest of the day was spent in what I can only term as controlled chaos. Back to work. Matt and I were sent to a different part of the line. I mentally kicked myself for blurting those three words that might very well change everything between us. What in heaven’s name had compelled me to say that? I hadn’t meant to, that was for sure. It had just gushed out. Maybe it was the adrenaline from seeing him hurt—the terrifying thought that something bad could have happened to him. The relief I felt when I realized he was alive.
I watched him carefully as we worked, but he wasn’t looking at me. In fact, I got the distinct impression that he was purposely avoiding my gaze. I didn’t blame him. I wished I could take the words back, not that they weren’t true, but I just wish I hadn’t said them. He had insisted that our relationship remain superficial, and then I had to go and say the three words that sent commitment-phobe men running for the hills.
What the hell was wrong with me?
Still, as far as I was concerned, Matt was sending mixed signals. I had a feeling that he did care for me, and more deeply than superficially, as he insisted. I guess I couldn’t really blame him for trying to keep some type of emotional distance between us. Maybe he was still grieving the loss of his wife and child. I shook my head. No maybe about it. That was stupid. He would probably grieve their loss for the rest of his life.
Still, it wasn’t like I was trying to replace his first wife or anything like that. Did he think that he could protect himself, and his heart, for the rest of his life by keeping people at arm’s length?
Then again, hadn’t I attempted to do that very same thing for years after I lost my family in a fire? And that was the crux of my confusion. I knew exactly how Matt felt. Not in the exact same way perhaps, but I understood devastating loss. No, I hadn’t lost a child, but I had lost my parents, my sister. Grief was grief. I couldn’t imagine going through what he had. I had never thought that I would survive my own grief. Maybe Matt hadn’t reached that point yet.
I tried to keep my mind focused on the task at hand. We were supposed to clear as much underbrush from this section of the line as we could, just in case the fire changed direction and came this way. Clearing out some of the underbrush would give the fire a little less fuel, but our efforts seemed so minuscule in the face of the wildfire raging uncontrolled around us.
The fire had taken on a life of its own, laughing at our pitiful efforts to stop it in its tracks. Just a half-mile away, I saw the flames topping the northern ridge, licking and consuming everything in its path, growing stronger, more powerful with every yard.
I couldn’t worry about Matt at the moment nor his efforts to remain emotionally distant. I couldn’t worry about any of that. My personal relationships didn’t matter in the face of this massive, all consuming fire.
It was at that moment that I resolved to relinquish any idea that I could control or influence Matt’s emotions or feelings any more than I could control the fire we so desperately fought. I knew I’d have to accept the fact that he might never reciprocate my feelings.
We’d known each other for only a short time. The fact that the adrenaline of working in an emergency room, of coming up here to fight the fire, the helicopter crash, and then the massive ferocity of the fire and Matt’s accident earlier only exacerbated my emotions. It emphasized my gut instinct for survival, for reaffirming life, for procreation.
I understood all that, logically. My heart? That was different. Everything seemed different. I had to get my heart and my brain back on the same page, but I had a feeling that it would be a hopeless endeavor at this point. I was so close to Matt that I could smell his earthy, sweat soaked clothes; inhale the scent of wood smoke and earth on his skin. I had no doubt that he could smell the same on me. And yet, every time I glanced up at him, he had his eyes riveted on the ground, on what he was doing. When he did look my way, his gaze shot past me as if I wasn’t there.
Once again, I struggled with feelings of hurt and rejection. At the same time, I also understood what he was doing. He was probably processing what I said, wondering if I had meant it. Perhaps he was trying to think of a way to extricate himself from my presence, to avoid any potential of emotional drama between us.
Believe me, I wasn’t about to exacerbate the problem by even mentioning it. Stick to business. That’s what I needed to do. Focus on what I was up here to do, regardless of whether Matt was standing right next to me or out of my sight.
“Over there!”
I glanced up, saw Matt pointing, and then turned to look over my shoulder. Embers had managed to light some shrubs only twenty yards away. We raced toward the spot, shoveled like mad, and put the embers out. He glanced up into the sky, at the roiling clouds of smoke. I choked on ashes and glowing embers, heavy in the air.
“Fire’s changing direction!”
I agreed. Still, we hadn’t been given orders to fall back, so we kept doing what we were doing, clearing underbrush as best we could. Tamping out small fires that wind-driven embers lit. So far, we had managed to make some progress, but if the wind kicked up more than it was now, we’d be in big trouble. If the fire came any closer in our direction, there was a possibility that we would have to move the base camp. Despite the use of helicopters, airplanes, and bulldozers, we were making very little impact on efforts to contain the fire.
We went back to work and I dealt with the brush. It was thick in places, sparser in others. It was a while before I realized that Matt was no longer beside me. I cast a quick glance around, saw that he had ventured into another area about thirty yards away, slightly down slope. I didn’t know if he was trying to avoid me or what, but I couldn’t worry about it right now.
By the time dusk approached, my muscles burned. I felt knots in my calves and between my shoulder blades, and I gasped with exertion every time I dug into the soil and lifted another shovel full of dirt. I barely had enough strength left to grasp branches as I pulled shrubs out by their loosened roots and tossed them into a pile for the cleanup crew.
The sun eventually set behind the smoke filled sky, turning the night sky into a dingy orange color. The fire continued to cast a strange, reddish orange glow over the area. I didn’t need the moon to see what I was doing; the flames were high enough and close enough.
Just when I thought I couldn’t possibly lift one more shovel full of dirt, I heard the crew truck arrive. Sweat streaked down my face, along my back and rib cage. I was exhausted and drained, emotionally and physically.
As a new crew arrived to take o
ver for us, I wearily made my way to the truck and climbed aboard. I sank onto one of the seats, leaning my head wearily against the window, my eyes closed. I rarely felt so depleted. I was so tired that my arms and hands trembled. I look forward to something to eat, and I didn’t even care if it was cold. Then, sleep. Blessed sleep.
“You okay, Jesse?”
I startled, opened my eyes, and watched Sam sink down into the seat next to me. Her face was as soot-smeared, dirty, and grimy as I’m sure mine was. I nodded, almost too tired to speak. “You?”
She shook her head. “We’re not getting ahead of this fire.”
I nodded in agreement and watched as several other worn out firefighters climbed into the truck, Matt among them. As he passed us and headed toward the back of the truck, he glanced down and smiled wearily at both of us. While I was pleased that he had it least made eye contact for the first time since I had muttered those words earlier this afternoon, I still felt hesitant and uncertain. Would he lie in his sleeping bag next to me tonight, or would he find a different tent?
I kicked myself again for blurting the words, but I couldn’t take them back. They were out there. Forever. I couldn’t do anything about it now.
“You’re falling for him, aren’t you?”
Once again, I glanced at Sam, taking in her knowing gaze. She looked at me somberly. I said nothing but offered a small shrug.
“Don’t fall in love with him, Jesse,” she said. “He’s got too much baggage. Anytime you get serious, he pulls away, emotionally at least.”
What could I say to that? I had already figured that out. Once again I glanced at Sam and she gave me a look that I could only construe as one filled with pity.
“Too late, huh?”
I offered a wan smile and again offered a light shrug. “Can’t help it,” I said softly. “There’s something about him that draws me to him like the proverbial moth fluttering around a flame.”
She nodded in apparent understanding. “Just watch yourself,” she said. “Moths get burned doing that, you know.”
I said nothing, but dozed as the truck bounced and rocked its way down the mountain slope back to base camp. I didn’t see Matt or Sam after I descended from the truck and made my way to join the line at the kitchen trailer. Food. Water. Sleep. That’s all I wanted.
The cooking crew must have been working overtime because there was a warm meal waiting, simple but filling; spaghetti with meat sauce, garlic bread, and a choice of beverages. I didn’t want any coffee, so simply chose a bottle of water and headed wearily to the dining tent. I sat down at a half-empty table, nodding a silent, tired greeting to firefighters also silently shoveling in food, eyes red-rimmed with weariness, stubble on their cheeks.
I barely had enough energy to lift my fork to my mouth, but knew that I needed the carbs. I ate quickly, and then, half asleep, placed my tray on top of the others, tossed my plastic fork into the trashcan, and then exited the dining tent, wearily shuffling my way back to my tent.
I had mentally prepared myself to find that Matt had moved to a different tent, but much to my surprise, and secret pleasure, I saw him laying where he always had. He had his back turned to the tent opening and appeared to be asleep, so I didn’t bother him as I wearily climbed into my own sleeping bag. I heard soft snores coming from his direction, and moments later, I felt sleep tugging at my own brain.
*
I woke just before dawn the following morning, feeling rested emotionally but aching and sore everywhere. I climbed out of my sleeping bag with a soft groan, did a few stretching exercises, and then, placing my hard hat back on my head, quickly left the tent to see if I could find Matt or others in his Hotshot group. I saw Sam and moved to join her, but I didn’t see any sign of Matt.
Sam nodded a greeting as I approached. “Ready for another day?”
I nodded, casting my gaze over the tired, weary firefighters waiting for the crew truck. “You seen Matt?”
She nodded. “He left with the crew truck before this one… about fifteen minutes ago. We’re all working the line near the top of the ridge,” she said, pointing.
I looked in the direction she pointed and felt my heart sink. The fire was blazing as strong as ever, and had just begun to make its way toward the top of the ridge line about a mile distant. I knew without a doubt that the wind direction had changed. “The base camp will probably have to move.”
She nodded in agreement as I began to wonder if we would ever get a handle on this fire. I knew it was growing and mentioned my thoughts to Sam.
Again, she nodded. “Over one-hundred-fifty thousand acres so far,” she commented.
Oh my God. I knew there had to be hundreds of us here fighting the fire. The size and fury of this wildfire was staggering. The number of aircraft, equipment, and crews from all over the United States that had come in to help was impressive, and yet we had no handle on it.
In a matter of minutes, the crew truck that had just deposited the first group of Hotshots up on the ridge rounded a curve, and to a man, everyone shifted their backpacks, checked to make sure they had water, me included, and prepared to board the truck. As I moved, I gradually began to work out the stiffness in my muscles, but I knew that it would be another long, hard day.
I hoped that Matt would talk to me today, but if he didn’t, I had to accept it. I still found it hard to believe that I had blurted out my feelings, but there was no use in crying over spilt milk. What happened in the future with Matt would happen—or not. It appeared that a relationship, a real relationship, was the last thing Matt needed or wanted right now. Disappointing, yes, but not really surprising, at least not knowing what I did about his background.
I pushed thoughts of Matt into the back of my mind as I climbed into the truck with the others and sat down, grasping the seat as we made our way up the mountainside. The truck bounced so erratically from side to side, and hit so many potholes that I was surprised we hadn’t busted a tire or broken an axle yet. There was very little conversation in the truck. Everyone was tired. Words seemed superfluous. As I gazed out the dusty and smudged window next to me, I cast my gaze over the fire line as we slowly climbed higher and higher. It seemed that everywhere I looked, the mountain was on fire. How many hundreds, or thousands, of firefighters were on the line now?
I tried to keep my body loose, prevented myself from tightening my muscles, exacerbating their soreness as we wound our way up the mountain. Every so often, we passed an area that had caught fire, leaving hopscotched areas of blackened freshly burned tree stumps and blackened ground behind. It was amazing how fire could skip and jump around the way it did, much like a tornado, and I never cease to be amazed by the power, fury, or even discretion of a fire as to where it burned and where it didn’t.
By the time the crew truck reached its destination, I already felt tired, but I knew that I had another long, bone weary day ahead of me. I refocused my mind and dug deep into my determination to continue doing the best job I could. Sam left the seat, and I followed her. Together we joined the group of Hotshots gathered along the ridgeline. As it turned out, Sam, Matt and I, along with four other men were assigned to the high point.
Following Sam, I began to climb. Matt and the others followed, each of us separated by about ten feet or so. The ground here was loose and gravelly, studded with rocks and clusters of boulders, out of which grew saplings of aspen and pine. We were several thousand feet up. It was rugged, beautiful, and dangerous. Just to the left of the ridge was a short cliff. From my vantage point I saw, just off to the left, a steep cliff, broken about fifty yards down by a protruding shelf of rock, and then the steep slope tapered downward into a narrow valley.
The air here was choked with ash and smoke, so heavy that despite the fact that it was still early morning, it felt like dusk. I pulled the handkerchief from around my neck up over my nose and mouth. I pulled the goggles from the hard hat I wore around my eyes to protect them from burning embers, which blew gently on the early morning breeze.
Matt had yet to say anything to me, but I decided that I just had to let him be. Explanations would be pointless. My words stood for themselves. If he wasn’t comfortable with them, then there was nothing I could do about it.
I focused on my work. Today I worked more with my fire ax than with my shovel. Working near the front of the line, Sam and two others more or less generally hacked at the underbrush beside me, trying to loosen stumps. Those following behind used shovels to dig up roots, clearing as much of the underbrush as possible. Bulldozers wouldn’t be able to get up here, so we just did the best we could. Our tasks today, like yesterday, was to try to clear a roughly twenty-yard swath of underbrush from the slope in the hopes of slowing down the fire if it did top the ridge.
Hour after hour we worked. I used my ax with discretion, not trying to tackle bigger trees or brush that I knew would just be a waste of energy. Instead, I focused on hacking away branches, small saplings, and underbrush, knowing that with all of us working together, we might, just might, be able to clear a twenty-by-fifty yard swath of underbrush by the end of the day. It didn’t seem like much, but when fighting fires, every little bit helps.
Of course, if the wind picked up and swept the fire in our direction, we would have to quickly abandon our position and move back. At that point, we would only be able to hope and pray that what we had accomplished would provide some effect in slowing the spread of the fire.
I don’t know how many times I slipped to my knees because of the loose gravel underfoot. It was hard to get a foothold, especially on the slope, which felt awkward and took quite a bit more energy than I had expended yesterday. Soon my thighs were burning, my back aching, and I had to focus on tightening my grip on the ax handle so that it wouldn’t go flying every time I made a down swing.
“Take a break!”
I had just made a mighty effort to swing my ax down on a chunk of Hawthorn berry shrub, or least I thought that’s what it was, when I turned to see Matt standing just a few feet away. I shook my head, knowing that if I stopped it would be very difficult to start up again. Besides, everyone was working just as hard as I was. We had to keep up the momentum. I didn’t want to slow anyone down.
