White Heat

by Jill Shalvis

“Not yet. He’ll try to stop me.”

  “Nina.” She pressed her fingers to her eyes. “I can’t. I can’t do that to him, I can’t help you run away without a word, without—”

  “Fine.” Nina stood again, feeling her chest tighten, her eyes brighten with the tears she would absolutely not shed. “I’ll find another way. On my own.”

  “Nina—”

  But Nina wasn’t in the mood to hear empty platitudes, she was in a hell-raising mood. And lucky for her, the night had just begun.

  * * *

  Lyndie woke to the scent of fresh tortillas and the sound of Tallulah’s collar jangling, and sat straight up in bed.

  It was still dark. Her clock glowed five o’clock. Rosa’s dog had pushed open the door that never locked and now sat on the floor by her bed, waiting expectantly to be rewarded for such adorable behavior.

  “Go away.” Lyndie stretched and groaned. Every muscle ached, and then some. The long night hadn’t helped. She’d heard Griffin get up every few hours. The last time, near four a.m., she’d gotten up also, and had found him whispering with Tom at the front door.

  Tom had the radio, checking in with the men on the status of the fire, and then relaying that info to their firefighter.

  Griffin’s dedication and concern had tightened her chest, and she didn’t know why. Didn’t want to know why.

  Still on the floor by her bed, panting sweetly, Tallulah added a little whine for attention.

  “Oh, all right.” Leaning over, she reached out to pet her. With a blissful grunt, Tallulah lay on her back, exposing her pathetic hairless pink belly, which Lyndie now couldn’t reach. And she wasn’t getting out of bed to pet a dog.

  She wanted to lie back and pull the covers over her eyes. Normally she popped right up in the mornings, but last night had been a long one, and she glared at the paper-thin walls, through which she’d also listened to that amorous couple go at it for hours—and they had been particularly amorous, and arduous.

  It hadn’t relieved any of her inner tension, that was for sure. “Damn it.” She sat up. On the nightstand was a note from Rosa: EAT.

  That it was in English, not Spanish, made Lyndie shake her head. Rosa wanted to make sure she got it.

  She did. But for once, it wasn’t food on her mind, but the fire, and the long day ahead.

  She got out of bed, tripped over Tallulah, then ended up squatting down to pet her for a moment. Then she grabbed a towel and headed down the hall to the bathroom.

  In the Rio Vista Inn, there wasn’t any sense in locking the bathroom. There were two toilet stalls and two showers, and no such thing as privacy.

  Tossing aside the big T-shirt she’d worn to bed, she hung up her towel right outside one of the two showers, which were nothing more than a long tiled wall and two shorter tile walls no higher than her collarbone, jutting out to create the two different stalls. A plastic curtain could be pulled across the back, creating the fourth wall. Hopping into the shower, she yanked the curtain closed, dunked her head beneath the hot spray, and wondered what Rosa had left her to eat.

  Something good, of that she had no doubt. Something with eggs and peppers and beans and lots and lots of fat.

  Her mouth started to water.

  Rosa always spoiled her rotten when she came, they all did. She kept her eyes closed as she shampooed and conditioned. What was it about being here, with these people, that got to her? Why did they matter so much when all her life what had mattered had been seeing everything and everywhere and never staying in one place? “And why here,” she murmured as she rinsed her conditioner out. “Why am I growing roots here?”

  “Roots…where are they, coming out your feet?”

  Her eyes flew open at that low, already extremely familiar voice. Sure enough, standing there amidst the rising steam of her shower, looking quite pleased with himself, was one hotshot firefighter Griffin Moore.

  Far too at ease, he leaned back against the door and let out a slow smile. “Maybe I should just come in closer and take a peek at those roots.”

  Her heart had kicked into gear at just the sound of him, but she managed to sound bored. “Sure. Come on in and get a closer peek. In fact, peek all you want, Mr. All-Talk-And-No-Go.”

  An eyebrow lifted as he studied her. He wore another pair of wildland firefighter trousers and a plain white T-shirt with a firefighter logo over his left pec. And a nice pec it was. Either he’d gotten more sleep than she had in spite of checking on the fire, or he managed to hide it well.

  She lifted one eyebrow right back at him, then nearly swallowed her tongue when he pushed away from the wood and started walking toward her.

  “Hey!” She lifted a soapy arm and pointed it at him. “You’re not supposed to take that dare.”

  “If you knew me a little better, you’d know I take all dares.”

  “Great time for you to open up and tell me such a thing.” He was still walking toward her, with his long legs and tough, rangy body, and determined, intense expression. His eyes glittered with intent, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. Exactly what kind of intent did he have, and why-oh-why did it make her body hum? “Okay, stop!” She wanted to wince at how shaky she sounded, how breathless. “Stop right there, Ace.”

  Halfway between the door and the shower, and only about two feet from her, he did.

  The air seemed to crackle around them, as it had on several occasions now. Griffin smiled, just a little one, with a good amount of wickedness in it as the steam swirled around his head. “What’s the matter?” he asked softly.

  “I didn’t expect you to really have the cajones to come in closer for a peek,” she had to admit. “Not after last night at the creek.”

  “Surprise.”

  “I hate surprises.” She knew he couldn’t see anything, at least not yet, but her entire body was doing the strangest thing in reaction to his invasion.

  It was melting. Nipples tight, thighs quivering, stomach dancing, the whole deal. Apparently, it’d been too long. “Okay, show’s over. You can get out now.”

  “Funny thing about bathing around here. No privacy. Take, for example, when I was taking my bath.” He said this in a perfectly reasonable tone, as if they were discussing what they were having for breakfast instead of her very naked body. “In fact, you goaded me into that water, and then never took your eyes off me.”

  Yeah, but he’d been something to look at. It was what had led her to the cold creek only a little while later, needing the cool air and water to soothe her unwelcome aching and yearning. “In case you haven’t noticed the difference between last night and today,” she said. “I’m completely bare-ass naked here.”

  “If you expect that to work as a deterrent…” He let out a soft little laugh that was so incredibly sexy to her. “Think again.”

  The water began to cool, a warning she knew all too well. She had less than one minute to get rinsed off and out before it went cold. “Why are you in here?” she asked desperately.

  “To brush my teeth.” He brandished a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste. With that wicked smile still firmly in place, he sauntered on over to the sink, which put him only a foot from her.

  She hugged up close to the tile wall of the shower and glared at him.

  “Oh, don’t worry. I can’t see anything you don’t want me to see,” he said all friendly-like, and turning away from her, flipped on the water.

  Her water went a surge warmer, only a surge, warning her she was really on borrowed time. “I wouldn’t swallow any of that,” she warned him when he bent over the sink.

  “Don’t worry.” His words were a little garbled because of the toothbrush in his mouth. “I have a stomach of iron.” He rinsed and lifted his head, and met her gaze in the reflection of the steaming mirror in front of him.

  The water cooled even more.

  Lyndie hugged the tile and ignored it while she watched him. She had no idea what was so sexy about him brushing his teeth. She considered herself good at reading peo
ple. The gift had come from her grandfather, who claimed he could tell the strength of a person’s soul by the look in their eyes.

  Lyndie had no doubt of the strength of Griffin’s soul. He was here. No matter the reason, he was here volunteering his time, his very life, so far from home. She’d seen more of his character yesterday when he’d automatically, instinctively, taken over at every turn, wanting to ensure her safety, and everyone else’s, as well.

  And then there’d been last night. He could have gone for it, dug into what she’d have been willing to give, but he hadn’t. And that fascinated her. Scared her, too, in a way she didn’t fully understand.

  He finished rinsing and met her gaze in the mirror. “What’s going through that head of yours?” he asked.

  “I’m just standing here wondering how it is I’m even here this weekend.”

  He turned off the sink. “Hmmm.”

  “I had it off, you know. All I had to do was drop you.” She lifted a shoulder. “Drop you and go. Those were my instructions. Then I was free to fly back to San Diego.”

  “And yet you stayed.”

  “And yet I stayed,” she agreed, and crossed her arms on the edge of the tile so that she could rest her chin on her hands as the water beat down on her.

  Cold water. And she didn’t care. “I stayed when it went against the grain.”

  “Why was it against the grain to help a village you love?”

  She didn’t know. She wanted everything to be black and white, and in her world she did her best to make it so. Griffin, like San Puebla, wasn’t black or white, but a terrifying mix that she couldn’t put her finger on. “Helping isn’t against the grain,” she said. “Staying is.”

  He set down his toothbrush and turned to face her, and though he could have tried to get an eyeful, he kept his baby blues right on hers. “Why’s that?”

  “I’m an Army brat. We never slowed down enough to settle in anywhere, much less fall in love with a place. But here…” She shrugged. “I’ve settled a little, and that’s scary.”

  “Why?”

  “Because once you care, you can get hurt.”

  His voice was suddenly, terrifyingly gentle. “Did someone hurt you, Lyndie?”

  “Not on purpose, no. But…people eventually go away.” Since that was a shocking admission, she turned away to face the water. “And I have no idea why I just told you that.”

  “Because the water has gone cold and you’re freezing your brain, but of course you’re too stubborn to admit such a thing.” He reached in, his arm brushing her shoulder and back as he cranked the handle and turned off the water.

  The sudden silence seemed deafening.

  As he retrieved his arm, she craned her neck to meet his gaze. She felt surrounded by him and yet he barely touched her.

  Oh boy, oh boy. Pulling her towel over the tile wall, she wrapped it around herself, making sure everything was covered on the body that felt startlingly, shockingly, wide awake and ready to play.

  Then and only then, did she yank back the curtain and step out of the shower, standing before him, water streaming down her limbs from her hair.

  His cocky, naughty smile was long gone.

  She was fairly certain she herself couldn’t have smiled to save her life.

  His voice sounded hoarse. “Lyndie—”

  “I need to ask,” she whispered into the steamy room. “What your demons are that made you face that fire yesterday, when you didn’t want to, and what will make you face it again today.”

  For a long moment he didn’t so much as breathe, then he slowly shook his head. “It’s complicated.” Reaching out, he ran a finger over her wet jaw. This time when he smiled it was a heartbreakingly sad one. “Very complicated.”

  10

  As dawn burned red and orange in the sky, lighting the forest, the rock formations, the overhang of smoke, Nina walked in the front door of the small but well tended casa she shared with her father—just as he was leaving.

  Tom scratched his head and studied his precious only daughter. “I got your note. What do you mean you want to go home with Lyndie? Lyndie is home.”

  “No, this is just a stop for her.” They stood in the open tiled hallway her great, great uncle had laid himself. The walls were stucco from two centuries back, lined with shelves that collected dust like a showcase. She looked around her and made a sound of disgust. “There’s so much damn dust in these damn mountains that it’s permanently seeded in my pores.”

  “There’s dust in other cities, Nina. And even in the States.”

  “Yes, well, it’s probably a cleaner dust. And this isn’t Lyndie’s home. She loves us, very much, but San Puebla isn’t her home.”

  “She’s home here,” Tom insisted, because he wanted it to be so. He wanted everyone to be as happy here as he was. “She owns the place next door, now, doesn’t she?”

  “Yes, because otherwise Rosa would have gone belly-up. But you and I both know Lyndie’s true home is the air. Her home is wherever the fancy strikes her.” She sighed. “Do you have any idea how the freedom of that draws me?”

  Tom felt his stomach slide to his toes. “You don’t want to live like that.” Please, don’t let her want to live like that.

  “Papa, I’ve told you before, I don’t want to live here. You don’t listen.”

  God help him, he’d ignored it, thinking she’d outgrow the need to go. But she’d never sounded so determined before, never.

  To the bones, she was her mother’s daughter, with pure willpower running through her forceful, proud veins. Maria had been his heart, his soul, from the moment he’d set foot in these rugged, isolated hills. Actually, at first it’d been delirium, as he’d come through on a fishing trip, and had collapsed from a terrible flu.

  Maria had taken care of him, babied him, spoiled him for days, and by the time he recovered, he’d fallen hard. Thank God it’d been mutual. He’d gladly stayed, loving the wide, open spaces, the pace of life, the feel that time had stood still. They’d married, spent a few blissful years so in love it almost hurt to look at each other. Then in one tragic heartbeat, she’d given him his precious daughter and lost her own life.

  Even now, the memory grabbed him by the throat and threatened to choke him. He’d stood in that hospital holding the newborn Nina, unable to accept what the doctor told him. He’d gained a baby, and lost his wife.

  Over the years he’d come to terms with the loss, and even though he still missed Maria terribly, he had Nina.

  And now she was going to leave him, too.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” she whispered. “You make my heart hurt. Papa, you are my family, you are my everything, but I…I need more.”

  “What? What is it you need? Just tell me.”

  “That’s just it! I don’t know, not until I get out there and do some living.” She cupped his face, kissed both his cheeks. “You came here on a whim when you were younger than I am right now. Your parents didn’t stop you. Your friends didn’t stop you. Now let me do the same.”

  “My folks are gone now. There’s no one for you there.”

  “I don’t care. There was no one for you here, either.”

  “Your mother.”

  “But you didn’t know that when you first landed here.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, wondering how to reach her, how to make her happy. “You don’t know what the States are like, querida,” he said desperately. “It’s too dangerous for a beautiful young woman alone on the streets—”

  “I’m not going to be on the mean bad streets of Los Angeles or New York. I’m going to be in sunny, beach-town San Diego, at least at first.”

  “Nina.” God, how to reach her? “I’m sorry you’re unhappy. I hate that you are, but this will pass. Your home is here, your job is here, and translating—”

  “No. Papa, please, listen to me. I’m not trying to disconnect from you, or even forget my culture. I’m still going to love you. This is just something I have to d
o. Lyndie is going back to San Diego either tonight or tomorrow, you know she is. I want to go, too. I want to be more American than holding a piece of paper. I want to live it. Like you did.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m a Mexican now.”

  She looked at his white skin, his pale, pale hair, his freckles, and laughed.

  “In spirit,” he said. “I’m Mexican in spirit, which is all that matters. Your mother was Mexican. That makes you full-blooded.”

  “No. I’m half American. I speak flawless English, you yourself saw to that. I want to go to college there.”

  “You said you didn’t want to go to college. I tried to send you—”

  “Mexico City doesn’t interest me. I’ve told you, you don’t want to listen.”

  “Because I love it here, I feel close to your mother here. I can no more leave here than I can forget her, and it terrifies me that you can.”

  “I just want to see the rest of the world.”

  Tom sagged a little, stared at the tall, beautiful, headstrong daughter he loved with all his heart. “You look so much like her. I want you to be happy, like she was.”

  “You want me to be happy here. But I can’t be.” She took his hands, kissed them. “I’m glad I look like her, Papa. She was beautiful.” She rubbed her cheek over his knuckles. “But I can’t be happy here, not like she was. Please understand.”

  “No.”

  She looked into his eyes. “Then I’m sorry for you.”

  “You’re not going.”

  “I love you, Papa.”

  Tom watched her walk away from him, and right out of the room, and wondered how much longer he could put her off before he had to let her go. Let his only baby go.

  * * *

  Griffin sat outside under a still dark, fire-ravaged sky after Lyndie’s shower, concentrating on breathing and breathing only. If he didn’t, he might wonder at the way he’d reacted to a woman after all this time, a woman unlike any other he’d ever met. What was it about her that made him want to feel again? Maybe he was tired of feeling raw and wounded. Maybe deep down he wanted more, and was willing to fight for it.

  Because that was a difficult thought, he switched gears, thinking about the day ahead, about having to be out there dealing with the fire.