by Candi Wall
His long legs took him over the embankment in three strides. She rolled over the top behind him as he ran across the clearing to the right. Rand turned with a loud yell and revved his engine. This was her chance. Bolting around in a semicircle, she straightened her track to come up behind Rand. Her fingers brushed the small flag attached to the back of the Beast as he pulled the monstrous four-wheeler up in a wheelie. Blinded by a curtain of mud splattering across her body and face, she gripped the cloth tight when he pulled away.
Yells and laughter erupted. Wiping the mud from her eyes, she held the flag up. When her vision finally cleared, the others already mingled in the clearing. Rand had Brack pinned to a snow bank but he’d spun around on his seat to stare at the flag in her hand.
She waggled it and stuck her tongue out only to sputter as the taste of dirt filled her mouth. Rand’s laughter was squashed when Brack tackled him, and in moments an all-out melee erupted. The scene would have startled anyone who came upon them, but she’d seen similar antics before. Relief needed for people who faced death and danger on a regular basis. Only people who’d experienced the death of a child in their arms, or witnessed a drowning victim, or held the hand of a wife as she cried hysterically for a lost child, would understand. They needed this foolish happiness.
Some of the others joined in the muddy wrestling match, and before long, most of the unit was covered in the sludge. Brack’s deep laughter filled her ears. It was the first time she’d heard him laugh, and the sound would be burned in her mind for a long time.
A sound she’d love to hear again and again.
It took close to an hour to pack the gear and get everyone cleaned up. By the time the trucks and equipment were loaded, everyone’s steps had slowed. The happiness from earlier ebbed and an easy silence filled the group as they worked. Brack was proud of them all. They were a good crew, every one of them. Even Jensen’s performance had been outstanding.
They all deserved a break, and for the first time in a long time, he hoped there weren’t any calls. Usually, he welcomed the distraction from his own thoughts. Calls kept him sane. But with Jonathon at home, maybe things wouldn’t be so lonely, so quiet with only the soft sighs of his memories to keep him company.
Abby’s laughter drew his attention. She sat on the tailgate of Joe’s truck as the older man bandaged a small cut on the back of her calf. A thin scar ran from her ankle halfway up her shin where it met a deeper, puckered scar with dotted marks left by staples. When she pulled her pant leg higher, the scar thickened before disappearing under her jeans.
The reminder of her accident didn’t seem to bother her. He’d read the statement she’d made after she’d been rescued and revived by her captain in Alaska. She hadn’t cared that she’d almost died or that her leg was mangled, with the possibility of permanent damage. All she’d wanted to know was if the fisherman she’d tried to save had lived. He had, much to her credit, and to her sacrifice.
Brack hoped she’d learned. Hoped the experience would keep her from doing anything too foolish. The need to protect his team from harm ran deep. Sometimes it made him lash out. His team understood. They knew what had happened to Ellen and Jeremy. Knew it was his fault. Abby had no idea, and it wasn’t something he wanted to share with her. Not yet. Maybe never. It was his pain to deal with. She’d adjust to his ways because she adjusted, or she’d leave.
Either way, he’d have his team in working order. Safe. Just as he needed it to be.
He slipped his jacket on and buttoned it before closing the truck door. “Good job tonight, crew. Go home and get some rest.”
They didn’t need encouragement, and within minutes, the parking lot was nearly empty. Only Abby and Rand remained. They stood off to one side, deep in conversation. A fist of jealousy punched him firmly in the gut, and he took a deep breath to ease the sensation. The way she smiled at Rand knotted his gut in a tight coil. He’d only seen that smile a couple of times, but he would have given anything in that moment for her to turn his way.
A loud beep from his pager made him jump. Rand’s pager toned along with his, slicing through the quiet night. Brack opened the door to the truck as Rand ran for his car. Abby met his gaze across the lot and she grabbed her gear with a question in her eyes.
She wanted to come.
He shook his head. “Not this time. You’re not official yet, but we’ll take care of it soon.”
“Just go,” she called out.
He grabbed his boots. “Start your car before I leave.”
The engine revved to life, and she flashed him a quick thumbs-up. Then she smiled.
Damn, he’d asked for it. And his mind filled with one thought.
She made him feel alive.
Chapter Six
“Wait a minute!” Abby glanced at Jonathon’s interpreter. “Meagan, wasn’t that the sign for shit?”
Jonathon launched a rapid fire of signs, but Meagan just smiled. “Yes, Abby, it certainly was.”
With a withering glance at the woman, Jonathon dropped a quarter in the small canister at the end of the table labeled, Abby’s Rainy Day Movie Fund—Courtesy of Cursing.
A moment later, his fingers and hands were in a blur of motion.
Abby could only catch a word or two, but when he wasn’t agitated—like now—and he took pity on her, she could almost communicate with him without Meagan’s help.
“He says that the math problem doesn’t make sense.”
“Of course it does.” Abby scooted closer and circled the formula at the bottom of the page. “Put the values from the problem in this form and remember the order you have to solve. Anything in parentheses first. Try it.”
He bent his head to the paper, chewing on the eraser as he worked. He’d left off wearing his hat again, which pleased her. They’d formed a great working relationship, and every day she saw more and more socialization. Just yesterday, he’d stopped by her practice and several of the girls had commented on how sweet and cute he was. None of the girls knew he could read lips, and she hadn’t had the heart to give away his secret. She liked the confidence the girls’ attention created in him.
So different from his father, Jonathon lacked the self-assuredness that radiated from Brack with overpowering presence. Every little boost helped the young man, and he’d mentioned softball practice again just that morning.
A thought suddenly occurred, and she turned to Meagan. “Ask him if he’d like to manage my softball team.”
Meagan signed the request, and Jonathon’s face lit up, his grin so wide every tooth in his mouth showed. Abby nodded. “I’ll take that as a yes. We’ll ask your dad, and if he says it’s okay, you can stay after with me each day for practice, and I’ll give you a ride home.”
Excitement intensified the speed of his signs. She caught four words and glanced to Meagan for help.
The interpreter chuckled. “He wants to know if he’ll be managing both teams.” She paused as he signed again. “Says, that’s double the amount of girls.”
“Both, it is.” Abby pointed to the paper. “But work comes first. If your grades slip, you’re done.”
He crossed his heart and went to work. Moments later, he slid the paper back to her with a sheepish grin.
He’d done it. “See, that wasn’t hard when you followed the steps. Think you can do the rest tonight for homework? I bet you could stump your dad with a couple of these. Just don’t give him the formula and he’ll flounder like a fish.”
He grinned, eyes gleaming. Meagan’s voice rattled along with his sudden flurry of signs. “He wants to know if you like fishing.”
She shrugged. “I’ve only been a couple of times.”
He slapped a hand against his forehead before resuming his hand-speak. “Early morning is the best. Dad and I go down to the river, near the docks in town. When the stripers are running, you can see them dart through the water like huge silver missiles. I caught one a couple of years ago that was forty inches long.”
That was a big fish
. “Wow. What do you do with them? Did you eat it?”
“No, we let it go.”
Abby jerked at the sudden interruption of Brack’s voice. He stood in the open door of the room, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. The light-gray sweater and green-collared shirt beneath hugged his muscular form to perfection. Dark jeans and work boots made him so completely male, she nearly stopped breathing. “I didn’t see you there.”
Jonathon followed her gaze and immediately started signing. Abby ignored the conversation between father and son and waved to Meagan when the interpreter left. She cleaned up the workspace to keep busy, uncomfortable with their occasional glances. Jonathon signed her name once, and she cursed her slow retention of the signs.
Brack chuckled. “Abby said that?”
Okay, she couldn’t ignore that.
Accidentally knocking her bag from the table, she crouched to clean up the mess. “What did he say?”
With a wide grin, he knelt down to help. “He said you like fishing.”
“That’s not exactly what I said.” The subtle aroma of coffee and…fresh-cut wood assaulted her senses. Mercy, it wasn’t enough that he looked delicious? He had to smell amazing too? “I did enjoy his story about striper fishing.”
“He reads people’s reactions.” He helped her to her feet with a hand at her elbow. “Then he assumed that you would like fishing too. That’s why I asked if you actually said it.”
“Gotcha.” She tried to move away, but the bookshelf behind her stopped her progress. Being in close quarters with him made it difficult to breathe. All her promises to keep her reactions controlled after the mud fight four nights ago withered under his gaze. It was no use.
“So? Want to go sometime?”
“Go?” Now she was a parrot? Great.
“Fishing,” he supplied, still way too in her space for coherent thought.
Jonathon stepped into the conversation then, his hands on overdrive. Brack laughed. “He thinks you’ll do better than me. I’m not lucky with the fishes.”
How could she say no? Two sets of absolutely beautiful eyes stared at her. One with youthful joy, one with something she couldn’t read but so wanted to. “Sure. I mean, I guess I could give it a shot.”
Jonathon grabbed her shoulder. With slow movements, he signed for her to ask his father about softball. She steadied herself to meet Brack’s gaze again. “Right. I’ve asked Jonathon to manage the softball teams for me. He’s very excited, and I’d be willing to give him a ride home if need be.”
Jonathon signed quickly to his father. All she could make out were several, very drawn-out, very pathetic, pleases. It didn’t take long. Brack signed back, and she didn’t have to guess his answer. Jonathon tossed his papers in the air with a silent yell, then gathered them up a moment later under his father’s stern glance.
Just as quickly, a grin broke on Brack’s face, and Abby sucked in a sharp breath. That easy quirk of his lips turned her insides to a seamless current of electricity.
Centering herself, she focused on anything besides how good he looked. “Is it possible, sometime soon, to have me officially inducted onto the team?”
“Everyone wants something.” His easy chuckle softened the statement. “You’re persistent, aren’t you?”
“I know what I want.”
His gaze held hers for a long moment, the heat percolating her blood. “Do you?”
She nodded, licking lips suddenly dry under the low, husky tenor of his words. “I love what I do.” She let her eyes roam over the firm line of his jaw where a faint shadow of whiskers begged for her touch. She could easily imagine the bristled texture, the warmth of his skin, and crushed her hands into fists. “I’m also not one for boredom.”
“Doesn’t look like I have much of a choice.”
“Does that mean yes?”
“Yeah, guess so.” His eyes lit with devilment and he leaned a hip against the table, keeping her blocked in the corner. “Of course, this means you have to help out at the annual auction.”
Gag. She hated fundraising, but she’d weather one weekend if it kept the peace. Mental note, chocolate martini ingredients needed before fundraising hell. “No problem. Count me in.”
His smile held a tinge of secrecy, and she shivered in response. It truly wasn’t fair that all he had to do was smile and she was mud. If he smiled like that during drills she’d be the best-behaved member of his team. Now if he’d just ask for something like a night of roll-your-eyes-back-into-your-head sex, she’d cave without hesitation. After all, what good was her temporary freedom if she couldn’t enjoy it?
“Good. I’ll make sure I put you on the list.” He turned to Jonathon, signing that he’d give him a ride.
Jonathon waved and headed for the door. He nearly collided with Rand as he entered the room. Jonathon lit off on a flurry of signs, and Rand laughed. “Thatta boy. Makes an uncle proud to know you’ve weaseled your way into an activity that includes all girls.”
“’S’got to be the Elliot blood,” Brack added.
This was the first brotherly banter Abby had seen since meeting the men. She had to give it to their poor mother. Disciplining these two and Jacob must have been hell on the heart. “Your mother must have had to drink.”
Both Elliot gazes landed on her, but it was Brack who spoke. “Why’s that?”
“Keeping you two in line.”
The brothers laughed. Rand clapped Jonathon on the shoulder and signed goodbye before looking back at Abby. “She didn’t have to worry about us. It was Lawson who gave her all her gray hair.”
“Lawson?”
Rand nodded. “Our littlest brother.”
Really, there were more of them?
As if she’d asked the question out loud, Brack smiled. “There are five of us all together. Gage is in the military.”
Wow. For the smile and the number. “And I thought the two of you were enough.”
Jonathon grabbed Brack’s arm and gave him a tug toward the door. With a parting glance, Brack followed his son out. Abby dropped down on the closest chair and sighed. Elliot men were exhausting.
“What’s got you so happy?” Rand grabbed a coffee mug from the cabinet near the window and poured himself some of the strong brew left over from that morning. He cringed slightly when he took a sip.
“Brack agreed to let me join fire and rescue.”
Rand sat in the chair across from her with a sharp laugh. “He didn’t have a choice. If he hadn’t agreed, Allen and Linda, as chief and assistant chief, would have overruled him.”
Did it matter how she was accepted? Not in the least. “Well. I’m just happy. I even agreed to do this auction-fundraiser-thingy, and trust me when I tell you I’d rather have a root canal.”
The second sip of coffee he took sprayed across the table. Swiping at his spill, he chuckled. “Guess I’ll have to thank Brack for that. And save my next paycheck.”
Confused, she reached over to grab him a napkin. “Why?”
He stood and dumped the coffee in the sink. “Because you are what’s being auctioned, my dear. Highest bidder gets your services for the day.”
She dropped her forehead to the table, ignoring Rand’s laughter.
The next day, Brack pulled his truck into the parking lot and looked down the hill at the sports complex.
In the middle of the mud and lingering snow that caked the softball field, Abby and about twenty filthy girls ran the bases. The girls’ clothing colors couldn’t be distinguished through the grime, but not one of them seemed to care. He was about to open the truck door when Abby was pushed to the front of the line by the girls. Laughing, she pulled her ponytail tighter and sprinted down the first-base line.
He should have known she’d be into the fun up to her ears. She rounded first with graceful strides, heading to second base where she slid through the muck, sending a spray of mud and slush into the air.
Determined to keep his eyes off her, he tried to locat
e Jonathon. His son stood just on the other side of the farthest dugout, his mop of hair tucked beneath a baseball cap. But this time, he’d tipped it back, his smile focused on a young blonde who leaned against the wooden frame of the dugout.
Her fingers traced over his shoulder when she tried to gain his attention, and an easy happiness filled Brack at the joy on Jonathon’s face. God, he worried about him.
Leaving the Hatten School had made things different. But in a good way. He liked having his son home. Conversation still came stilted, but he hoped that would change with time. Maybe it wouldn’t be so tense if he’d been there for Jonathon. He’d tried to help his son through their loss. But he’d been consumed as well. Looking back, Brack realized there were so many times when Jonathon had needed him. Hell, it was no wonder the kid acted out. Brack had left him to his own devices, then sent him off to school. Even on the weekends Jonathon had been home, the fire department calls had taken Brack away.
“Lynette likes him.” Abby laughed when Brack jerked in surprise. “Sorry to sneak up on you.”
His smoky, brooding eyes made a slow perusal down her body. “You’re a mess.”
Shaken by the touch of his gaze, she stepped back as he climbed out of his truck. “Yep. But it was so much fun.”
“Who likes who?”
“Lynette.” Abby knew he’d been watching and wondered why he hadn’t come down. She’d never met someone so reluctant to engage in his child’s life, yet so obviously craving the connection. “She likes Jonathon.”
Brack walked past her to lean his elbows against the hood of the truck. “And she’s not—embarrassed by him being deaf?”
“Children are more accepting than adults any day.”
“He used to be teased.” Fatherly anger furrowed his eyebrows. “A lot. But his mother used to tell him the other kids were just jealous because they couldn’t speak in code. That worked until he was nine.”
“Then what did he do?” She could imagine Jonathon as a young boy, his feelings trampled by the other kids in his class. But the mention of his mother sparked her curiosity again. No ring. No mention of Jonathon visiting her… Shit. She needed to focus. “How did he manage?”
