by Kim Redford
Things had really taken off once Slade arrived with takeout from the Chuckwagon Café, lowered the tailgate of his truck, and laid out the spread of barbeque, fixings, and sweet tea. Country and western music from inside the open doors of the station filtered outside where everyone had gathered after completing all but one of the photographs for the calendar.
Unfortunately, there was a big downside. Dune wasn’t there. If he had been, everything would have been about perfect. As it was, she was alternating between mad, sad, and worried. Kent had tried to call Dune again. She’d even tried to call him. Their calls had gone straight to voicemail, so they couldn’t directly reach him. Kent had reassured her that Dune had said he was on his way over two hours ago. How long could it take to get from Cougar Ranch to the fire station? Not long, as she well knew.
She’d finally decided that he either didn’t want to face her after their one night together, or he didn’t want to do the photo shoot, or he didn’t want to help her at all. Maybe all three options were viable.
In any case, he was putting her in a bind, and she didn’t appreciate it one bit. She also felt like a fool to have believed his words, his hands, his body. He’d gotten what he wanted from her, and now he was probably headed to the Hill Country, never to be seen or heard again. It was just as well she’d found out now instead of later that he wasn’t trustworthy. And yet she couldn’t stop the tightness in her chest or the pain in her heart at that realization. At least she wasn’t in too deep, or was she? No, it’d simply been a one-night stand that had woken her up to how life could be again. That was a good thing. And if she kept telling herself that often enough, maybe she’d eventually believe it.
For now, she’d simply cross Dune Barrett off her list. She didn’t need him to get done what had to be done. So far, everything was going according to plan. They’d photographed firefighters wearing their turnout gear—but not too much gear—in front of the fire station, in the rec room, in, on, and around the engine and the booster. Kent had taken lots of shots, so they’d have plenty to choose from later. She had to admit their cowboy firefighters looked just as hunky as they looked ready to take care of business. And that was great for the calendar.
Unfortunately, Dune left them one month short, so she was trying to decide how to fill that month. She had to get the picture now, because she absolutely had to have all of the photographs that day so she could drop the photos into the calendar layout and get it in production.
She tamped down her concern about Dune, because she knew if he’d had trouble such as a truck wreck or something else disastrous, they’d have been alerted at the fire station, so they’d be almost the first to know. That meant he was okay out there wherever he’d gone. She comforted herself that he wasn’t in danger. Still, it was cold comfort because it meant he just didn’t want to be with her.
Yet now was not the time to think about Dune. There was simply too much left to do. She took another swig of sweet tea through the red-and-white straw in her cup, determinedly breaking her thoughts. She put a hand on the fender of Slade’s pickup as she watched a tall, willowy, blond-haired, green-eyed newcomer, looking good in a forest-green sweater and slacks set, walk over. Trey Duval followed close on her heels, wearing his traditional Santa Claus belt buckle with red shirt, Wranglers, and cowboy boots.
“Thanks for everything you’re doing for the county.” Misty Reynolds leaned in close, gave Sydney a hug, and stepped back with a big smile.
“That goes for both of us.” Trey’s hazel eyes gleamed as he put an arm around Misty’s waist, looking as pleased and possessive as all get-out.
“I’m just relieved we’re about to wrap up the photo shoot,” Sydney said.
“About that.” Trey glanced around the group, then back at her. “Dune’s not one to slack off his responsibilities.”
“It’s okay.” Sydney shrugged, trying to look nonchalant as she flailed about in her mind to come up with a solution to his absence in the calendar. Finally, something struck her as workable. “I have an idea about that last picture.”
“What?” Misty asked, taking a step closer.
“Why don’t we do a group shot of all our firefighters since they’re still here? We could gather around the food like it’s a tailgate party for Christmas.”
Misty laughed, glancing up at Trey. “Good idea. Everybody knows firefighters are foodies.”
“Not true,” he said, chuckling. “We just know firefighting requires a lot of fuel, so we make the most of it.”
“Sure,” Misty and Sydney said as one, and then both burst into laughter.
“Anyway, that’ll work.” He turned aside and motioned toward his cousin, Kent Duval, to come over.
Kent noticed and tossed a gnawed-to-the-bone rib into the trash. He grabbed the hand of Lauren Sheridan, a honey-blond, brown-eyed cowgirl who’d recently returned and recaptured their high school love.
“What’s up?” Kent asked, wearing his usual snap-shirt, jeans, and boots, as he glanced toward Cougar Lane before he focused on Sydney. “Any news?”
She shook her head in the negative as she shrugged her shoulders, wishing she at least knew what’d happened to Dune.
“Sydney’s got a good idea.” Trey glanced at her in encouragement.
“I’m all ears.” Lauren leaned closer.
“Okay.” Sydney tossed a smile at them. “I’m thinking it’d be good to have a group shot of our firefighters around the barbeque—or what’s left of it—like they’re celebrating at a Christmas tailgate party. I believe it’d work for December. What do you think?”
“Love it!” Kent clapped his hands together.
“So do I.” Lauren glanced toward the road, then back again. “I mean, if Dune’s not going to be here, then that idea works fine.”
“We have to assume he’s not coming to the shoot,” Sydney said in a firm tone, knowing she had to get everybody on the same page.
“Right,” Kent agreed. “My camera’s already on a tripod. I just need to focus on the group, set the timer, and join it.”
“Perfect.” Sydney said the word, but she didn’t mean it. “Perfect” would be if Dune was there, but he wasn’t, so they’d go with the next best thing. And anyway, a group shot was probably a good idea. If Dune had been Mr. December as she’d planned, then she would’ve used the shot on the calendar’s cover. But this would work, too.
“Are you going to be in the group photo?” Lauren raised her eyebrows at Sydney. “You’re a volunteer firefighter, too.”
“I hadn’t planned on it. This is about the guys.”
“Wait a minute,” Kent said. “I think Lauren’s right. Sydney ought to be in the group shot, along with Hedy—and Ash. Lauren, you too, since you’re volunteering at the station again.”
“I like it,” Misty agreed. “And I think Hedy with Ash on her lap ought to be front and center, since they’re the backbone of the station.”
“I agree about Hedy and Ash,” Sydney said, “but I’m not so sure about me.”
“Or me,” Lauren agreed.
“We’re sure about both of you.” Trey gave a big grin.
“But I’m not even dressed for it,” Sydney said. “My hair. Makeup.”
“Stop right there,” Misty interrupted. “We’ll put you in a firefighter jacket. And a cowgirl hat will take care of your hair. Lauren, too.”
“Good.” Kent glanced around the group. “It’s a done deal.”
“I’ll get the group assembled while you set up the camera.” Trey turned and headed toward the nearby firefighters.
“I’ll tell Aunt Hedy,” Lauren said. “I’m really excited about this picture.”
“I think it’ll work.” Sydney just wished Dune was there to be in the photo with them.
“You bet it’ll work.” Kent took a step away, then looked back. “Maybe you and Slade can get the food and containers s
et up for the photograph.”
“Okay.” She looked around, caught Slade’s eye, and motioned him over to his pickup.
“What’s up?” Slade glanced around at all the sudden activity, then focused on her. “No Dune?”
“Nope.”
“I’ll be hornswoggled. I’d never have thought he’d just take off. Are you sure he’s okay?”
“I’m not sure of anything, except we’ve got to get one more photo for the calendar.”
“What do you need me to do?”
“We’ve decided to do a group shot as if we’re celebrating Christmas with a tailgate party featuring the Chuckwagon Café food.”
Slade laughed, shaking his head. “I like it.”
“We just need to arrange the food so it looks good in the photo.”
“Too bad I didn’t know ahead of time or I’d have gotten our café’s name emblazoned somewhere in the picture.”
“That’d be crass advertising, wouldn’t it?”
“Yep. And it’s just the type I like,” he said with a chuckle.
“They want Hedy, Ash, Lauren, and me to be in the photo, too.”
“Great idea. Y’all contribute plenty to the station, so you ought to be included with the group.”
“Looks like we’re all in agreement. Let’s get this food set up.”
“I’ll make room for Hedy in front of the tailgate. Ash will be sure to stay with her if we lure him with his favorite food.”
“I’ll stand near her, so we womenfolk are together,” Sydney added.
“Suits me.” Slade put a big hand on her arm. “I’ll take care of the food. You go ahead and get yourself all dolled up. The rest of us are ready to go.”
“Are you sure you don’t need help?”
“Go!”
She glanced around, saw everybody was getting into place for their final photograph, and jogged over to Celeste. She sat down inside, opened her purse, and pulled out her makeup bag. She added a little extra blusher, eyeliner, and lipstick. She ran her fingertips through her hair, grabbed her cowgirl hat, and put it on her head. She pulled her hi-vis yellow firefighter parka off the back floorboard, slipped it on, and was good to go.
She noticed that Hedy hadn’t joined the group. She simply sat with Ash on her lap, as if waiting to make up her mind as to what she wanted to do next. Sydney quickly walked over to her.
“Are you sure about us being in the photo?” Hedy asked. “I thought this was all about the cowboys.”
“We might as well throw in a little extra eye candy. That’d be you and Ash.” Sydney stroked the cat’s sleek silver-gray fur and straightened the big red bow around his neck.
“Ash is definitely eye candy,” Hedy said. “Me? I might break the camera.”
“Not on your life.” Sydney leaned down and kissed her cheek. “You’re going to make the photo, so just come along.”
When they reached Slade’s pickup, everyone and everything looked in position while Kent stood behind the camera, still fiddling with it. Sydney gave everybody a thumbs-up.
Hedy slipped into position, and Sydney maneuvered into the open space slightly behind her next to Lauren. Misty stood just in back of Kent, watching, waiting, and obviously ready to help if anybody needed them.
“Okay, folks, say cheese,” Kent called as he quickly stepped away from the camera and headed for his place by the truck.
Sydney put a big grin on her face just as Kent tucked his body in beside her. They both froze in place.
As the camera’s shutter clicked to capture the group, a pickup tore into the parking lot, careened to a stop beside them, and a cowboy jumped out.
Dune jogged over to them, wearing dirty, sweaty, ripped Wranglers and carrying a crushed cowboy hat. “Am I late?”
Chapter 24
Dune didn’t look at anybody except Sydney, trying to gauge just how mad she was about him being so late to the photo shoot, or the former photo shoot from the look of things. His attempt at a joke to ease the situation had fallen flat, so he was left with his backup position—which meant no position at all.
Nobody said a thing as all heads swiveled to see Sydney’s reaction to him, because she was in charge of the calendar, and they’d follow her lead. Besides, he wasn’t local, so he bet they’d band together if put to the test. So what? By now, he didn’t care much one way or the other. He was hot, tired, and out-of-sorts, but he was here, so that ought to count for something. If not, he was plenty ready to load up his truck, head south, and say to hell with Wildcat Bluff County. But then there’d be no Sydney, Storm, Slade, Kent, or the other friends he’d made here. He resisted a big sigh, knowing he was caught between a rock and a hard place.
“You’re just in time for our group photo,” Sydney said, looking him over from head to toe.
He glanced down and realized he was in no shape for photographs. He hit the crown of his hat against his thigh to knock off the dust, then he punched the felt back into a recognizable shape with his fist. “Guess my clothes have seen better days.”
Sydney nodded in agreement as she put a hand over her mouth, as if stopping the words she wanted to say.
But he saw a little light at the end of the tunnel, because he’d seen one corner of her mouth twitch as if she was resisting the urge to laugh. Well, he’d take a laugh over a cry any day of the week. Maybe funny was the way to play this train wreck of a day. Everybody knew Texas folks liked nothing better than to laugh at themselves when they shared some long, tall tale about their misadventures. He’d sure had his share today.
“Well,” he drawled out the word into several syllables just to whet their appetite for a good story. “It all started with a big, bad, Brahman bull.” When they all leaned slightly forward, as if anxious to hear more, he knew he had them in the palm of his hand. He needed a win to get his life back on track, so he’d just give them the best story they’d heard in a coon’s age.
“I take it you’re talking about the Cougar Ranch Brahman,” Kent said, helping the story along.
“Yep. That’d be the one.”
“Wait.” Sydney pointed toward the camera. “We want to hear your story, but first join the group so we can finish the shoot.”
He looked down at his clothes again, then back at her—glad she was at least talking to him but not so optimistic about his appearance. “Are you sure you want me to be in the picture?”
“You’re one of our fire-rescue volunteers, aren’t you?”
“That’d be a yes.”
“I rest my case.”
“I can get a jacket out of the station.” He figured that’d help cover up his clothes.
“No, not now,” Sydney said. “We’re ready to go, and the group’s getting restless. Why don’t you get in back of Trey and put on your hat. That way, you’ll be mostly covered up.”
“Guess that’ll work.” It looked as if he’d put off that trip down to the Hill Country a little longer.
As he stuck his hat on his head, Trey gave him a big grin and stepped aside so he could muscle into the group. Maybe it’d have been easier to have hightailed it out of here and licked his wounds with several bottles of Shiner under his belt. One thing for sure, he wouldn’t have had to see the suppressed laughter at his condition, and that wasn’t just his clothes but his letting Sydney tell him what to do because he was obviously so besotted with her that he wouldn’t chance any trouble between them. It could be a damn right embarrassing situation, if all the other cowboys hadn’t been there before him and understood what he was going through until he got her on a secure lead and she put one on him.
He got into place just back of Trey and tried to put a pleasant look—at least not a grimace—on his face for the photograph. A few snaps of the camera later and the photo shoot was finally put to bed. And he’d at least made it in time for one picture.
Soon everyb
ody was milling around the back of Slade’s pickup, shaking Dune’s hand or slugging him on his arm, doing the male-bonding thing. It felt pretty good, particularly after the morning he’d had and the concern he’d had about being sent back to the ranch without his supper, or some such. He figured it just went to show if you scratched a cowboy, you’d find they were all the same underneath.
Now if he could just get Sydney not to hold a grudge, they could get on with their day. He glanced around for her. She was over with Kent, talking together as he took his camera off its tripod.
Slade slapped him on his back. “Better grab some grub while you can. Everyone’s diving back into it, so it won’t last long.”
“Thanks. I will.” He glanced at the open containers of food. “Is that Chuckwagon barbeque?”
“You’re darn tootin’,” Slade said from his position by the food. “I made it myself.”
“In that case, I sure don’t want to miss out.” He picked up a chopped beef sandwich and iced tea.
Slade leaned in close. “I doubt if she’ll admit it, but she was worried about you.”
Dune glanced into the hazel eyes so like Sydney’s and gave a quick nod of appreciation that her brother had shared that important piece of information.
“Still, you’re gonna have to make up for being late.”
Dune nodded again as he took a big bite of the delicious sandwich. “Okay,” he mumbled around the wad of food.
Slade glanced over at Sydney. “You better eat quick and get on with your story before everybody gets gone.”
Dune swallowed, then swallowed a slug of tea. “It’s a good one.”
“Remember, she needs to save face.” Slade picked up his drink, tossed several empty containers in the trash, and moved what food was left to the edge of the tailgate. “She’s got a lot of social capital invested in you doing right.”
“I won’t let her down.” Dune finished off his sandwich and tossed the wrapper in the trash. He drank the last of his tea and threw the cup away, too.
