Just Kate: His Only Wife (Bestselling Author Collection)

by Linda Lael Miller

  “Where you headed?” he asked, not taking the hint and not moving an inch.

  “Physical therapy,” Grandma Rose told him.

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “It’s hard work,” Aubrey corrected him.

  “I don’t doubt it.” Unfazed by her brusque tone, Gage polished off his coffee, rinsed out his mug and placed it in the dishwasher. “And speaking of hard work, I should get cracking.”

  Aubrey blew out a huge sigh when she heard the front door shut behind him. How long, she wondered, would it take to build the wheelchair ramp? More importantly, how long until she could comfortably share the same air space with him?

  Getting Grandma Rose ready for their trip to Pineville didn’t take long. She obviously wished to be self-sufficient eventually and would do whatever was required of her to achieve that status. Because morale played an important part in the recovery of someone in her grandmother’s condition, Aubrey encouraged her.

  Afterward, she helped her grandmother into the recliner so that she could watch her favorite soap opera. During the show, Aubrey showered and dressed. When she finished, they still had a good half hour to kill before they had to leave for the rehabilitation center in Pineville.

  “Wheel me out onto the porch, dear,” Grandma Rose said, using the remote to shut off the TV, “so I can see how Gage is doing with the ramp.”

  Aubrey tried to come up with a valid argument. “Are you sure? You have a big afternoon ahead of you and don’t want to overdo it.”

  “I’d like to know how I can overdo it by just sitting.”

  “It’s warm out there.”

  “Nonsense.” Grandma Rose leaned forward and braced her hands on the armrests. “I can tolerate a little heat.”

  Aubrey reluctantly complied with the request, the wheelchair bumping as it rolled over the threshold and onto the porch. She thought about asking Gage if he could replace the threshold with a flatter one, then caught herself. Asking one of the other guys might be a better approach.

  The first sight to greet her as she stepped outside was Gage’s pickup truck parked in the driveway. The emblem on the door, she now noted, was some kind of flame with initials in the center. He’d lowered the tailgate and was using it as a makeshift workbench. The second sight to greet her was Gage. He stood with his back to them, bent over a circular saw and cutting wooden planks. She tried not to notice him, but her eyes kept darting across the yard to where he worked.

  His shoulders were broader than she remembered, the muscles more defined and prominent. He might have grown another inch or two. Then again, maybe he just stood straighter and taller. Either way, maturity agreed with him. Were he another man, Aubrey might find the changes appealing.

  When the plank Gage was cutting split neatly into two pieces, he shut off the saw and looked up. “Hey, there.” Removing his ball cap, he ran fingers through sweat-dampened hair, then flung it onto the tailgate as he came toward them. “Need a hand?”

  “No, I—”

  “Good heavens, Gage,” Grandma Rose interrupted. “You must be dying of thirst. Get him a glass of lemonade, will you, Aubrey?”

  Setting the brake on the wheelchair, she gratefully retreated into the house. Maybe by the time she came back with his lemonade, he’d be working again.

  No such luck.

  He was sitting in the chair closest to Grandma Rose when Aubrey stepped outside.

  “Thanks,” he said, as he shot to his feet and reached for the plastic tumbler she carried.

  She gave it to him and when he’d sat back down, she inched toward the door. “I have a few things to do around the house before we leave for Pineville.”

  “There’s nothing that can’t wait until later,” Grandma Rose said, motioning with her hand. “Sit down and visit for a while.”

  Gage grabbed one of the other chairs and dragged it over next to his. Flashing his trademark sexy grin, he patted the seat. “You heard your grandmother. Sit and visit for a while.”

  To a casual observer, the invitation appeared innocuous enough. Aubrey knew better.

  He drank half the lemonade in one long swallow. “Whew! That hit the spot.” He then lifted the plastic tumbler to his forehead and rested it there. “Awfully hot for June.”

  “Do you remember the day you and Gage first met?” Grandma Rose didn’t wait for a response and just prattled on. “It was at Sunday school. You were about four and Gage must have been, oh, five or six. You had on that pretty pink dress I liked with the big white sash. We had such a time with your hair, trying to make it look nice.” She made a tsking noise. “A few weeks before arriving here, you and your sister decided to play beauty parlor. Annie, the little dickens, cut a huge chunk of hair out of the left side of your head. Your poor mother cried for days.”

  Aubrey had no desire whatsoever to walk down memory lane. Gage clearly didn’t share her sentiment and enthusiastically participated in the discussion, bringing up one youthful indiscretion after the other.

  Crossing and uncrossing her legs, Aubrey endured the small talk. Because of Gage, she’d lived exclusively for the summer when she and Annie would stay in Blue Ridge. For nine straight weeks, their parents visited various hospitals across the country where their father would demonstrate the latest medical advance he’d made in the field of cardiovascular surgery.

  Their mother, Carol May Stuart, had been raised in Blue Ridge, having met their father at college. They both liked the idea of their daughters being exposed to the same grassroots upbringing she experienced. The girls loved Blue Ridge; their grandparents loved having them stay. It had been a perfect arrangement. Until the summer after Aubrey’s freshman year at the University of Arizona when everything went to hell in a handbasket.

  “Do you remember the day you came home and announced you’d eloped?” Grandma Rose’s smile turned sentimental. “I was so happy for you both.”

  If Gage was ill at ease with her grandmother’s reminiscences, he didn’t show it. His attention didn’t waver from Aubrey once while the older woman recounted the incident. Not that Aubrey had made eye contact with him. But she could feel his stare just as surely as if he’d reached over and laid a hand on her.

  “I remember everything,” he said in a husky voice.

  She remembered everything, too. And despite the scalding temperatures, a shiver ran through her.

  Perhaps sensing Aubrey’s discomfort, Grandma Rose slapped the arms of the wheelchair. “Would you look at the time.” No one had so much as glanced at their watch. “We’d best be on the road, hadn’t we, Aubrey?”

  “Yes,” she mumbled and gratefully rose.

  Gage also stood and grabbed the back of her chair, pulling it out. She couldn’t help herself and looked at him. Given the sexually charged atmosphere in the SUV yesterday, she fully expected desire or longing to be reflected in his features. What she saw there caught her off guard and affected her far greater.

  Sadness and, unless she was mistaken, regret. For their marriage, she wondered, or that it ended? She couldn’t tell, and maybe that was for the best.

  “And I need to get back to work. That ramp won’t build itself.” Gage’s smile vanquished all trace of negative emotion from his face. “Can I help you into the car, Rose?”

  “Yes, thank you. That would be nice. Aubrey, fetch my purse for me, will you? It’s on the kitchen counter.”

  “Sure, Grandma.”

  They were leaving at last. Retrieving her grandmother’s purse first and then hers, Aubrey headed back outside just as Gage was assisting Grandma Rose into the SUV. The scene was tender enough to give Aubrey pause.

  He had no sooner buckled her grandmother’s seat belt when a series of loud beeps cut the air. Stepping away from the SUV, he reached for the radio hooked to his belt. Aubrey remembered seeing similar communication devices being used by the local ranchers. After listening to a garbled voice, Gage depressed a button and returned the radio to his belt, a frown creasing his brow. “I have to leave.”

>   “Problems at home?” Aubrey asked.

  “No.”

  Without so much as a wave goodbye, he abandoned Grandma Rose and hopped into his truck. Throwing it into Reverse, he tore out the driveway, the tires spewing a shower of gravel and dirt. He hadn’t even bothered to put the tailgate back up. His ball cap sailed out and landed at the end of the driveway.

  “What the heck was that all about?” Aubrey asked after retrieving the cap and loading the wheelchair into the back of her SUV. It annoyed her that Gage would take off and leave the ramp half-done, not to mention a mess in the front yard.

  “I suppose he got called to a fire,” Grandma Rose answered.

  “What fire?” She scanned the nearby rooftops. No telltale plume of gray-black smoke billowed skyward.

  “In the mountains somewhere, I suppose.” She peered out the window. “Or anywhere in the state. Once they went to California and twice to Colorado.”

  Aubrey jammed the key in the ignition, inexplicably irritated. “The volunteer fire department doesn’t travel outside Blue Ridge.”

  “No. But the Blue Ridge Hotshots do. Gage is also a wilderness firefighter.”

  Aubrey’s mind grappled with the unexpected information. “Since when?”

  “For a while now. During the summers, mostly. He does something else with them the rest of the year, too, but I don’t know what. Part-time, of course. He still works the ranch with the family.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “He didn’t tell you?” Grandma Rose looked surprised.

  Aubrey shook her head. “No one did.”

  Her family seldom talked about the Raintrees after the divorce. Aubrey’s father resented Gage and flew off the handle every time his former son-in-law’s name was mentioned. Because his outbursts had accounted for any number of unpleasant family gatherings, Aubrey opted to keep the peace and stopped asking about Gage. News occasionally made it her way via her grandmother, but not with any regularity.

  She had yet to start the SUV, and the vehicle’s interior temperature quickly escalated. Turning on the engine, she set the air-conditioning on maximum before pulling out of the driveway.

  The drive to Pineville took about an hour, not all of which was filled with conversation. During the frequent lulls, Aubrey’s mind drifted to Gage. Besides being captain of the Blue Ridge Volunteer Fire Department, he was also a wilderness firefighter. Amazing.

  Mountain fires had been in the news too often during the last few years for her not to know what a Hotshot was and how important they were to the safety and preservation of Arizona’s endangered high country.

  She’d always assumed—along with most people in Blue Ridge—that Gage would follow in his father’s footsteps and take over management of the Raintree Ranch. To discover he’d chosen a different profession, one as dangerous and challenging as a wilderness firefighter, intrigued her.

  And being intrigued by Gage was a complication she neither wanted nor needed in her life right now.

  Chapter 3

  The smell of chicken enchiladas, homemade pizza and hot apple pie commingled, filling Aubrey’s SUV as she drove the main road through town the following morning. From their resting place on the floor in front of the passenger seat, the foil-wrapped food dishes rattled and shook in protest with every bump, pothole and sharp turn.

  Buildings and landmarks marked Aubrey’s short trip, most familiar, a few new. The feed store, the one-room public library and Mountain View Realty’s log cabin-style office building were the same as she remembered. A life-size wooden statue of a bear now stood in front of the Blue Ridge Inn, its big paw raised in greeting.

  How, Aubrey asked herself, had she let her grandmother coerce her into running this errand? Some of the Hotshot crews, as reported by her grandmother’s neighbor, Mrs. Payne, had taken over the Blue Ridge community center. “A satellite fire camp of sorts,” she’d said, and explained a little about how the twenty-member crews rotated shifts. In a show of support, many of the townsfolk prepared food for the wilderness firefighters, who used the community center to eat, sleep and otherwise relax before returning to action.

  According to recent reports, the blaze had been raging in the mountains twenty-five miles east of Blue Ridge since yesterday, apparently started from the smoldering remains of an illegal campfire left by recreationists. It didn’t take much to ignite a fire during the hot, dry Arizona summers.

  Originally, Mrs. Payne had planned on delivering the food items. But the two older women got to chitchatting and decided Aubrey should do it. That way, they could work on a baby quilt for Mrs. Payne’s newest grandchild. Aubrey agreed, only because she didn’t have the heart to deny her grandmother the opportunity to spend an enjoyable hour with a friend. And it was for a good cause.

  Besides, what were the chances of Aubrey running into Gage anyway?

  That’s what you said at the gas station, a small voice inside her teased.

  “Shut up,” she told the voice as she pulled into the community center parking lot.

  Aubrey had spent every spare minute not dedicated to her grandmother’s care thinking about Gage and his second job. She remained glued to the radio and TV news for updates on the fire. She’d even gone so far as to research Hotshots on the internet, using the laptop computer she’d brought with her.

  Holding the box of food dishes to her chest, she used her shoulder to push open the heavy door leading into the community center. From the number of vehicles in the parking lot, she expected quite a few people to be inside. The actual count was considerably more.

  A dozen or so cots took up one corner of the huge, airy room, many of them occupied. Metal chairs surrounded a TV, which sat on the small, homemade stage. Several stations had been created by arranging long tables into Us or Ts, their various purposes indicated by a cardboard sign taped to a corner.

  “Hi, there. You bring a food donation?” The woman greeting Aubrey was about her age and looked vaguely familiar. Before she could place the face, the woman said, “You’re Aubrey Stuart, aren’t you? I heard you were back in town.”

  “That’s me,” Aubrey said, wishing she could remember the woman.

  “You don’t recognize me, do you?”

  She smiled apologetically and shook her head.

  “It’s been a long time.” The woman returned her smile. “I was Eleanor Carpenter. I’m Eleanor Meeks now. I used to live about a half mile up the road from your grandparents. You played sometimes with my younger sister, Beth. When you weren’t playing with Gage, that is.” Eleanor’s eyes remained warm and friendly, but her smile turned impish.

  “Of course.” Aubrey was surprised by the delight she felt at running into a former acquaintance. “Nice to see you again.” She shifted the box of food to her hip. “Are you volunteering here?”

  “Yep. When I can arrange for someone to watch the kids, that is.” She took Aubrey by the elbow and led her toward the kitchen located in the rear of the huge room. “Let’s find a place for this food and then we can talk.”

  “Is your husband a Hotshot?” Aubrey asked.

  “Was.” Eleanor’s smile faded. “He was killed two years ago in a burnover incident when the wind suddenly changed direction.”

  “Oh, my gosh! I’m so sorry.” Aubrey instantly flashed on her parents’ late friends, Jesse and Maureen. “I didn’t—”

  “It’s all right.” Eleanor reached into the cardboard box and removed one of the covered dishes. She placed it in an empty spot on the counter. “I won’t lie and say things are always easy. But me and the kids, we’re doing okay. Volunteering with the Hotshots helps.” A shadow of grief crossed her face. It lasted only a moment and then she was smiling again.

  Aubrey couldn’t help thinking of Gage. Was he all right? Was he in danger? How long until he returned?

  Some of the internet websites she’d visited the previous night portrayed wilderness firefighting as a glamorous and exciting profession, the men and women as heroes. They were, but as an E
.R. nurse, Aubrey knew better than most the not so glamorous and exciting side of firefighting.

  “Hey, Eleanor,” someone called. “Can you give us a hand? This idiot fax machine won’t print.”

  “I’m the local Jane-of-all-trades.” Eleanor sighed wearily, though she acted more pleased than put out. “Hang around, why don’t you? If you’re not in a hurry.” She started off, then stopped and turned. “It’s good to see you again, Aubrey. Welcome home.”

  Welcome home.

  The phrase echoed in Aubrey’s head. Though she had lived most of her life in Tucson, Blue Ridge had been home to her, too. Certainly the home of her heart.

  “Thanks,” she told Eleanor. “I think I will hang around.”

  Whatever malfunction had struck the fax machine, it perplexed not only Eleanor, but several others. While the group of workers stood over the machine—reminding Aubrey of surgeons and nurses in an operating room—she finished unloading the food dishes and went wandering the community center.

  As she neared the front door, it flew open. A large group of Hotshots entered, dressed in dark brown pants, black Tshirts and heavy work boots with thick rubber soles. They were covered in grime, and the smell of smoke clung to them, nearly overpowering Aubrey.

  She couldn’t avoid hearing their conversation as they passed.

  “I’m going to grab a quick bite to eat,” said one of the tallest of the group. “What about the rest of you?”

  Most concurred.

  “I’m gonna hit the sack for a while.” The speaker yawned noisily. “I haven’t slept in two days.”

  The taller man slapped his buddy companionably on the back. “Take care of that arm first.”

  “This?” He held out the affected limb, and Aubrey noticed an ugly gash running the length of his forearm. “It’s just a scratch.”

  “I don’t care if it’s a pinprick,” the taller man said. “Take care of it.”

  “Yes, sir.” The injured man veered away from the others and went behind a U-shaped station, where he dropped down into a metal chair and rolled up his sleeve. The cardboard sign taped to the table read First Aid.