by Piper Stone
Extreme heat crested over the trees, a light breeze fanning the flames in their direction. They hit the ground with a hard thud, rolling and immediately releasing the chutes. Stoker knew they were on target. Tyler was considered one of the best spotters in the business.
The men stood and Antonio pointed out directions. From what he’d seen from the air, this could take hours or even a couple of days to contain. Thank God, the local fire department was fighting along the flanks.
He followed Antonio into a dense area of the forest. They immediately began to cut away the brush, abating fuel as the fire moved in their direction. Working side by side, they walked through dense foliage, nearing the blaze. Hot and sweaty, he had no sense of time, no thought to how long this was going to take. He plodded through.
Crack!
“Look out!” Antonio called. He reached out, grabbing Stoker’s arm and pulling him several feet.
Stoker looked up just as a massive tree limb fell. The loud booming noise reverberated through the forest. What the fuck? He was unable to tell if the tree itself was on fire or the old wood had fallen prey to age and stress.
“This way!” Antonio pointed.
They continued to dig, shoveling dirt as fast as their heavy equipment would allow. Every step became harder as they came closer to the fire until they could see the first lapping flames over a short rise.
Battling a blaze was always dangerous, but when inside the belly of the beast, anything could go wrong. He had no idea where the other men were located, but as they cornered their section of the blaze, turning the fire away from some of the densest areas, he knew they were making some headway.
What seemed like hours later, they’d reached a pinnacle. Antonio pulled him aside, issuing a break. He removed his helmet and wiped his face. “We’re doing better than I anticipated. As long as the team has managed to do as well as we have, we may have it contained in a couple of hours.”
Stoker removed his helmet and turned in a circle. The night sky was thick with smoke, the stench acrid but could have been much worse. “How can you tell?”
“Watch the way the fire is following the trenches we created. We’re controlling the stream. The firemen should be able to get some water on various entrance points, which will help. Just keep doing what we’re doing.”
Nodding, he donned his helmet and took a step. Another cracking sound drew his attention toward the sky.
Whoosh! Bam!
Boom!
“No!”
Jessica had found Stoker’s limited wine selection and given the two bottles were on the counter, a receipt lying next to the merlot, she knew he’d recently purchased them. Had he bought them for her? Too early to tell. She was fidgety, worried about Stoker and bored to death. Glancing down at Mac, she leaned over, petting his neck as she sighed. “Just you and me.”
Woof!
Thoughts regarding Stoker’s friend remained furrowed in the back of her mind. She wanted to find out as much as she could about the situation. Why? Because she couldn’t stand to see him hurting in the manner he was. Stoker was like a shell, a man haunted because of a single act. She was curious about the man, whose exterior was rough and tumble, but his house was pleasantly organized, comfortable and even inviting. Cooper had been an important part of his life.
“Show me around?” she asked Mac, laughing as he thumped his tail. “Good baby boy. Let’s go.” She found the pantry and stood both admiring and chuckling as his selection of food. He was a man of few needs. The kitchen was devoid of life. The appliances gleamed in the well adorned light, yet there were no plants, no sign of life. She eased back into the living room, finding a small office near the back. When she walked inside, she breathed in the scent of old wood.
The small space was rustic, but he had every creature comfort including a carved wooden desk and a massive leather chair – exactly what she would have expected. The laptop appeared new and he had two printers located on another table. She noticed his bookshelf and was surprised the oversized piece was full of books. “What does your daddy like to read?”
Mac walked over to the piece of furniture, lifting one paw and barking.
“Okay. What do you want me to see?” When she closed the distance, she examined the interesting collection. From Bram Stoker to Clive Cussler on the fiction side and nonfiction including books on horses and boats on the other. He was a man of mystery. She took a sip of her wine and selected a book, a comprehensive look at bull riding. She’d do her best to wait up for him. She chuckled as she fingered the well-worn cover. Obviously, Stoker had two distinct sides, perhaps more.
As she walked back into the living room, book under her arm, she looked in the direction of the hallway and his bedroom, her curiosity piqued. She’d be invading his space, which wasn’t fair. Then again, he hadn’t asked her to keep out. Had he? “Should I?”
Woof! Woof!
“Well, if I get into trouble with your daddy, I’m going to point fingers in your direction, big boy.” Laughing, she took baby steps in the direction of his room. Why the caution? Because she was terrified to learn too much about the man. Maybe an air of mystery was good for a budding relationship. “Ugh. I’m not in a relationship, no matter that we made out. Right? I’m right, aren’t I, Mac?”
This time Mac whined.
“Ok, fine.” Garnering courage, she headed for his bedroom. When she turned on the light she smiled. The bedroom was large, complete with a separate stone fireplace. The king-sized bed was ornate in design, the headboard obviously handmade. The comforter was plum, rich and vibrant. She ran her hand over the pillows before glancing at his dresser. She knew the area wouldn’t be cluttered. He wasn’t that kind of man, nor was he into material items. On top were two watches, a bottle of cologne and a badge of some kind. She walked closer, picking up the leather and steel piece. “Lieutenant Stoker Hansen, engine company twelve.” She fingered the badge, imagining him as a savior of humans and animals alike. He was very much a hero to so many.
After carefully placing the piece back in the same spot, she opened the cologne, inhaling. The scent was exactly like him, exotic and earthy. She sprayed a single stream, shivering when the fragrance wafted across her nose. Visions of the kiss, his touch and the intensity of his eyes bored into her soul. She set the bottle down and rubbed her fingers across her mouth, savoring the kiss. He’d been aggressive and controlling, yet gentle. The combination was thrilling.
She turned back toward the bed, envisioning time spent on a cold winter’s day, snow falling softly to the ground, nowhere to go. “Mmm… I’m in a dream, Mac. I don’t know if your daddy wants me around.”
Mac nuzzled against her leg, his tail swishing back and forth.
“Then put a good word in with your daddy, will you?” After placing the book on his nightstand, she crouched down, wrapping her arm around his neck. The moment was special, something she’d never experienced before. As she pressed her face against his fur, she heard the sound of her cell phone chirping.
“Let’s see who’s calling, boy.” She took long strides, grabbing the phone on the fourth ring. “Maggie. About time you called me back. Where have you been?”
“I’m sorry, chica. Duty called. How are you? Isn’t the country gorgeous? The trees and sky are magnanimous, sunsets the best in the world.”
“Why do I feel like you’ve been here before?” Jessica asked.
“I grew up in Missoula, silly.”
Suddenly, she had a sinking suspicion. “Let me guess, you know the man who owns the place I’m staying in.”
“Of course, I do. He’s my father. Didn’t I happen to mention to you that the situation was perfect?” Maggie laughed. “By the way, he thinks you’re a handful.”
“I just bet he does. Why didn’t you tell me?” Groaning, she had fallen into the tidy setup without a hitch.
“Because I feared you would think I rigged the map game.”
Jessica groaned. “And you didn’t?”
“No
t in the least. Call what happened fate,” Maggie half purred. “So, I hear you met Stoker Hansen.”
“I did.” She heard the faraway sound in her voice.
“Wait a minute. Have you more than met him?” Maggie teased.
“In a manner of speaking. Don’t ask me any questions or I’ll reach through the phone.” Jessica teased. “What do you know about him?”
“He’s a good guy.”
“What aren’t you telling me? Is he an ax murderer or something?”
Maggie hesitated before answering. “Jess, he’s been through a lot in his life. Lost his parents when he was a teenager. Practically raised himself. Other shit has happened, too.”
“Like in the war.”
“He told you?”
“Only a few details. I know he’s hurting. He didn’t need to tell me that,” Jessica moved toward the window, peering out into the night sky. She prayed he was safe.
She laughed. “He’s rough around the edges. Careful with that one.”
“Why?”
“Because he tends to push away everyone he cares about.”
Jessica heard a glitch in Maggie’s voice. “Were you two involved?”
Maggie sighed. “At one time, too many years ago to count.”
“Please don’t tell me you left for Florida because of him.”
“Well, there were a couple of reasons, but he was one of them. Before you ask. I’m not pining away for him. We were over a long time ago.”
“You’re going to have to tell me the story one day. Is he that far gone?” Jessica asked, fearful of the answer. When Maggie remained silent, she groaned. “Tell me the truth.”
“Jess, he’s been waiting for the right woman to come along. He really is wonderful. Kind. Giving. Just be careful. If you fall for him, you’re going to fall hard. That much I can tell you.”
Jessica took a sip of her wine, realizing her hand was shaking. “Thanks for the information. I’ll be careful.”
“Just don’t say I didn’t warn you. I gotta run. I’ll check in with you in a couple of days. Oh, before I forget, my brother is breathing down the bank’s neck about your house. He might buy you a couple weeks anyway.”
“Thanks for that.”
“What are friends for? Have fun, but not too much fun.”
She held the phone out, staring at the screen as she thought about Maggie’s words. Falling hard. She understood the sentiment well.
Against everything, including her best judgment, she knew one thing for certain. She was falling in love with him. The question remained. Was he going to break her heart?
Chapter 9
You’re my setting sun, my forever home.
You’re the light who drives my soul
Never forget that I love you
Never forget you’re the one
I’ll always be by your side
Through…
Jerking awake, the words continued to flow in the back of Jessica’s mind. The song was melodic, full of the kind of love written about in books and movies, the kind of love she’d never experienced. And probably never would. Why in the hell had her mind drifted, writing music in her sleep? She exhaled, running the words through her mind. The song was rough, without polish, but one that needed to be written. This was the first time in over two years a joyful piece of music entered her very soul. Why now?
Stoker…
The realization was startling. Haunting. She’d known him for only a short time. She shifted as she clenched something soft. Disoriented, she glanced toward a small source of light. Only the moonlight highlighted the room, illuminating the shadows with an eerie glow. She was warm and comfortable, snuggling in Stoker’s bed. “Shit.” The word said out loud, she was surprised she’d allowed herself to fall asleep in his personal space. What had happened? She remembered sitting on the comforters, enjoying the faint hint of his cologne, the feel of his pillows against her.
A song. She was writing a song. She snuggled into the soft pillows as she repeated the passage, tapping out the rhythm with her index finger. This wasn’t rock. This was country. Wouldn’t her manager be proud? Her thoughts drifted to the rather diminutive man who’d been with her since the beginning. Even before Fringe was fully formed, Jasper had been by her side. Oddly enough, the man hadn’t called her. Hadn’t emailed her. Hadn’t texted her. She bit her lip as another ugly realization slammed into her gut. She was not only yesterday’s news. She was a nobody on a dirt trail straight to zero land. Groaning, she rolled over. The warm body next to her wasn’t Stoker’s. Chuckling, she eased her arm over the sleeping pup, cuddling up next to Mac’s warmth and whispered in his ear. “Hi, baby. You kept me company last night. Thank you.”
Mac shifted, raising his head briefly. Snorting, he eased his head back onto the pillow, content and comfortable. He knew he was safe in loving arms.
When his breathing slowed, soft snoring sounds emitting from his muzzle, she stroked his fur. If only she could be as content as the beautiful fur baby. She closed her eyes briefly then struggled to look at the clock. Where was Stoker? Maybe he’d come home, refusing to disturb her and stayed on the couch. Yawning, she stretched and cuddled closer. If he wasn’t in the mood to finish what they’d started, maybe the morning would be a perfect beginning.
As she drifted off to sleep, the words floated in the back of her mind.
I’ll always be by your side…
Woof!
Wham!
“Don’t, daddy. Please don’t.”
“Come here, Jessie. You and I need to have a little chat,” he bellowed as he walked closer.
She scuttled into the darkness, cowering in the corner.
“Fuck!”
Jessica opened her eyes and winced. The damn nightmare was back. She swallowed and calmed her breathing. “Damn you,” she whispered and held her breath until the visions cleared.
The light streaming in from the window was bright. Too bright. Her brain foggy, she shifted through her memory bank. Mac was still asleep, his body quivering as if chasing rabbits. She rubbed her hand across his back until he opened his eyes. “What time is it, buddy?” After glancing at the clock, she moaned and threw back the covers. Almost nine. She listened for any sounds, human or otherwise. Hearing nothing, she climbed out of bed. “Guess you need to go out.”
Mac jumped off the bed, his entire backside wiggling. “I think I’m going to have to call you Mr. Wiggles. Let’s go find daddy.” She looked down at her disheveled attire. She’d fallen asleep in her clothes. After brushing her fingers through her hair, she glanced in the dresser mirror. Hell hath no fury like a woman in last night’s clothes. This would have to do.
She opened the bedroom door, listening for any tell-tale signs of his presence. Only the fleeting clicks of the refrigerator could be heard. Mac pushed past her, his exuberance catching. “Just hold on, sweetie.” A quick search around the cabin and she realized not only was Stoker not home, but he hadn’t been home at all. A lump formed in her throat as fear trickled down her spine. Something terrible must have happened.
Shaking, she opened the front door, praying to some God that his truck was parked in front. It wasn’t. Mac bounded outside, happy to face the morning. She, on the other hand, had a foreboding sense of dread. Who could she call to check? She didn’t know anyone in town and had no idea how to get in touch with whatever precinct or headquarters he was working under. Smokejumpers. What little she knew terrified her to death.
Easing off the porch, she walked the grounds, ending up at a small stable and corral. Three horses were feeding on a bale of hay, their statuesque beauty highlighted by the glistening sun streaming across a field of green. She was taken aback by the sheer perfection of the sight in front of her. This was nature at its finest, a blissful morning shared with some of God’s finest creatures.
While she had no experience with horses of any kind, she was drawn to their majestic presence. Opening the gate slowly, she walked inside, careful to close the latch. Hes
itating, she garnered courage and walked closer. They seemed different than Ralph’s horses, perhaps younger and so full of life.
Only one of the horses acknowledged her presence, the whinnying sounds floating into the bright sky. She inched forward, every step methodical. The last thing she wanted to do was spook them. Stoker would kill her. Or spank her ass. The thought gave her another series of tingles. She closed the distance until all three horses turned in her direction. Their eyes held no fear, no concept of worry at all. They seemed to understand she was a friend and would never hurt them.
“Hi, babies. You’re beautiful.” Jessica reached out, touching one between the eyes. The incredible black stallion stood several inches taller than the others, his eyes intense pools. He reared his head momentarily, then snorted and took a step closer, dropping his head.
She was touched by the beast’s instincts, his ease in mannerisms. He was proud, yet accepting his desire to be around humans. She took a deep breath and rubbed his nose. “So gorgeous. You must be your daddy’s pride and joy.”
The two others came closer, their eyes filled with curiosity. Inhaling, she closed her eyes, envisioning riding one of them alongside Stoker, galloping next to a running stream, the trickling waters floating over rocks and crevices. Trees swaying overhead as a light breeze rustled through the dense foliage. The dream was lovely, but one she couldn’t afford to concentrate on. One horse was unblemished, beautiful by any standards. The other scarred, flesh discolored in shades of pink and gray. “Poor baby. What happened to you?”
The horse refused to come any closer, but also didn’t run away, yet her eyes were telling. The beauty remained afraid.
Standing on her toes, she pressed a series of kisses along the stallion’s nose when he lowered his head, then stepped away from them. If Stoker was alive, she’d ask for a ride. If he wasn’t… No, she refused to think this way. He was safe given his competent skills, his years of experience. He had to be safe. Wringing her hands, she looked up at the sky, saying a silent prayer. Please God. Let him be all right.
