Black Flame

by Ruby Laska

  #

  Deneen wasn’t scared, at first. How big could the woods be? Surely the road was nearby. She tried to remember the direction they’d come when Jimmy first brought her here, the turns they had taken. She busied herself trying to find a branch she could use as a crutch, hopping along and wincing with pain every time her foot made contact with the ground. Soon, it became apparent that she wasn’t going to make it anywhere before night fell.

  Her fingers were freezing in the inadequate mittens, and so was the tip of her nose. She would have cried except she was pretty sure that her tears would freeze to her eyelashes. The snow had melted on her butt where she’d fallen and now her cheeks were frozen solid. Probably some of her body parts would need to be amputated, if she got out alive.

  “Oh, damn,” Deneen muttered miserably. Because, as much as she didn’t want to die, she really didn’t want to die in such a stupid way before she had a chance to explain to everyone. That she had been trying to find Jimmy, to keep him from the same horrible death she was about to suffer.

  There was always the hope that he would double back and find her, but given the approach of nightfall, it seemed impossible. He must have walked home along another route. He was probably back at the bunkhouse right now, fiddling around in his workshop while Jayne and Matthew wondered where she’d gone to find him. “Who knows?” she could hear her sister saying, in her fondly exasperated tone. “That’s just Deneen.”

  But now the snow was beginning to fall in earnest. Deneen sat down on a fallen log. It looked like it had been in the forest for many years, shelter to the tiny creatures who made their homes in its nooks. If she got hungry, maybe she could look underneath. Like Timon in The Lion King, she would find some caterpillars to eat. And there was plenty of snow, so she wouldn’t die of thirst.

  Deneen’s mood sank to an all-time low. She wouldn’t die of hunger or thirst, but her well-fed, properly hydrated dead body would be discovered here, frozen solid. She had compared her situation to the wrong movie. Instead of Timon, she would probably look like Jack Nicholson at the end of The Shining, frozen to death in the hedge maze with icicles coming down her chin.

  “No crying,” she scolded herself when she felt her eyes get moist. She hugged herself tighter, shivering. “And no feeling sorry for yourself!”

  She dug in her pocket for her lipstick. If she was going to die in the northern wilderness, at least she was going to look presentable when they found her.

  #

  “Slow down,” Matthew called. “You’re not going to do anyone any good if you overheat and then pass out and freeze to death.”

  Jimmy forced himself to slow to a walk. Each of them was carrying a flashlight, the beams illuminating the ground ahead of them. It was fully dark now, the moon obscured by swirling snow. In other circumstances, the woods would have looked pretty. But knowing that Deneen was out here somewhere—unprepared and defenseless—made it impossible to see the woods as anything but treacherous.

  Jayne had stayed behind, in case Deneen found a way to call. She was calling Cal when they set out, hoping he could marshal resources along Pedersen Road and Route 15. If Deneen had been able to follow Jimmy’s tracks before the storm began, she should turn up there. But if Deneen had turned west, if she had lost his trail and tried to turn around and gotten disoriented, she could be anywhere in a hundred miles of forest and plains. The rescue team would certainly find her, nonetheless.

  But would they be in time?

  For the first time that he could recall, Jimmy struggled to suppress the facts and figures that had always soothed him during difficult times. At this moment, he didn’t want to remember the statistics on body temperature and frostbite. He didn’t want to think about how long Deneen could walk before she was exhausted.

  He just wanted to see her. To hold her in his arms again. To tell her, as illogical and unlikely as it was, that he was falling in love with her.

  He and Matthew, dressed in gear more suited to the elements, would be fine. That was the worst aspect of the situation. If only he’d insisted she wear his coat, his thermal underwear, his waterproof gloves and fleece hat. If only he’d come straight home after his walk. If only he’d never gone at all, trusting himself to simply talk to her rather than battling his emotions with physical exertion.

  Someday, he’d always promised himself, he would learn to deal with his feelings instead of trying to pretend they didn’t exist. He was twenty-nine years old, well past the age where he should have dealt with his issues. And now, because of his weakness, his fears, he was in danger of losing the best thing that had ever happened to him.

  “What’s that?”

  “What?” Jimmy stopped and looked in the direction that Matthew was pointing. “I don’t see anything.”

  “There, against the sky. I think it’s smoke.”

  Jimmy squinted, pushing his glasses up on his nose. It did, indeed, look like a faint cloud of smoke rising up into the chalky night sky. He pointed his flashlight beam upwards, but the smoke—or whatever it was—was too far away to be sure.

  He started running in that direction, crashing over fallen branches, his boots plunging through the snow. He ignored Matthew’s shouted pleas to slow down. If what they were seeing could help them find Deneen, it was worth it. And if they didn’t find her soon—well, it wasn’t worth thinking about, other than the knowledge that his own safety wouldn’t matter then.

  By the time he reached the clearing near the bottom of the valley, where a frozen creek ran between the two gentle slopes, he could smell smoke and see a faint orange glow. He started yelling Deneen’s name, urging his body to go faster. Matthew lagged far behind, but Jimmy, who spent hours every day pushing his body to go farther and faster and harder, practically flew over obstacles and through the trees.

  As he came closer, he could make out the flames of a small fire. Next to it a figure was struggling to stand up. A figure in a puffy pink coat.

  “You came!” Deneen shouted, and then she was in his arms, laughing, her face warm from the fire, her arms around him. Burning wood crackled and popped, sparks shooting out into the snow.

  She was alive. She was all right. She was in his arms.

  “Hiking outdoors in those clothes demonstrates very poor logic,” Jimmy finally said, when Deneen relaxed her grip on him enough for him to catch his breath.

  “I was trying to rescue you,” she said. “The storm was coming, and I didn’t want you to freeze to death.”

  Jimmy started to point out that his outerwear and gloves and boots were rated for conditions down to thirty degrees below zero. That he always hiked with extra water and protein bars, as well as a first aid kit, a Swiss army knife, and a lightweight reflective emergency blanket.

  Then he stopped. All of that was true, but none of it needed to be said right now. It was only getting in the way of his true feelings.

  “I was scared,” he admitted. “Please never attempt to rescue me again.”

  Then he kissed her.

  EPILOGUE

  March

  Jimmy arrived at Dr. Osterhaus’s optometry practice at 5:05 pm. Technically, Deneen was off duty at 5:00, but she usually lost track of time, chatting with the final patients of the day. She had proved such a hit, filling in while the receptionist was on maternity leave, that he had been begging her to stay.

  Since Deneen was also renting the Osterhauses’ spare room, she had developed a warm relationship with them. During Jimmy’s three-week hitches on the rig, she often ate dinner with them, when she wasn’t out doing wedding things with Jayne. Jimmy wasn’t sure exactly what those errands entailed, although he had noticed that the bunkhouse was filling up with fabric swatches and pages cut from bridal magazines. Deneen assured him that he didn’t need to know the details. The wedding wasn’t until June, so there was ample time for him to catch up.

  When Jimmy was between hitches, like now, he enjoyed picking her up from work himself and bringing her to dinner at the bunkhouse. Som
etimes Roan came as well, and the kitchen was filled with laughter and joy—the sort of cozy scene that Jimmy had never dared to dream he would actually be a part of.

  The bells that Deneen had affixed to the office door tinkled, announcing his arrival. He smiled to see his girlfriend’s delectable rear end, as she bent over the coffee table in the waiting area.

  “Oh—hi!” she said, standing up. Then he noticed that the coffee table was covered with a shamrock-printed tablecloth. The theme continued in a shamrock-strewn garland and leprechaun hats fashioned from shiny paper and hung from the ceiling.

  Deneen had transformed Dr. Osterhaus’s waiting room from a functional, yet drab space to a place that made adults smile and took away children’s fear of the eye doctor. Mrs. Osterhaus was so impressed that she had hired Deneen to plan her grandson’s birthday party. And several patients had asked if Deneen would be interested in planning everything from a bar mitzvah to the opening of a new hardware store. At this rate, Deneen would be able to go into business full time by fall.

  There were other developments, as well. Matthew and Jayne had arranged to buy the old farmhouse from Mimi. They would do renovations over the summer, and move in in time for their baby’s birth. Once they left the bunkhouse, Jimmy was hoping to ask Deneen to move in with him. She could even use the room they vacated as her office.

  “Give me two seconds,” she said, ducking into the back to say good night to Dr. Osterhaus. A moment later she was back, slipping into her coat. After her rescue, Deneen had retired the vintage coat to her closet. She refused to part with it—she said it had saved her life, since she had found a book of matches in an inside pocket when she was looking for her lipstick, and used the matches to start the fire that had led Jimmy to find her—but she now wore the insulated waterproof parka that Jimmy had given her as a gift.

  “Guess what?” she said, as they headed out to Jimmy’s truck. “I received an anonymous love note in the mail at the office.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. It was actually very sweet. I think I’m falling in love with Albert Einstein.”

  “I doubt he sent you the card,” Jimmy said, secretly proud of himself for thinking up the romantic gesture. “He has been dead for sixty years.”

  He tried to do one new thing each week to express the feelings he still had difficulty saying out loud. So far, Deneen had seemed to enjoy all of them, including the flowers he brought her, the chocolates ordered from a boutique, the fancy restaurant dinners, and the evenings in front of the fire. But the love note had allowed him to try to express himself using words. So what if he’d borrowed them from the great man? Somehow, he didn’t think Einstein would mind.

  Deneen pulled the card from her purse. Unfolding it, she read, “‘Not everything that counts can be counted, and not everything that can be counted counts.’ Isn’t that beautiful?”

  “Sure,” Jimmy said.

  “It made me curious,” she went on. “So I looked up Einstein myself. Know what else he said?”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea,” Jimmy said, though he was pretty sure he had memorized all of Einstein’s best-known quotes.

  “‘Gravitation is not responsible for people falling in love.’ What do you think he meant by that?”

  “I’m not sure,” Jimmy said sincerely.

  “I think it means that you can’t ever explain why two people should be together. You can use all the science in the world, make the very best prediction based on all the data you could possibly find, but in the end, there’s a certain amount of magic involved.”

  They had arrived at the truck, and Jimmy walked to the passenger side, as he always did, and opened Deneen’s door. Before helping her in, he kissed her…taking his time and making sure to do it right.

  When they finally came up for air, he said, “Magic, huh?”

  “Yep.”

  The old Jimmy would have pointed out how little sense such a comment made, how there had never been any conclusive evidence of the existence of magic of any sort.

  The old Jimmy had been wrong. As he bent down for one more kiss before they headed home, Jimmy decided that magic was as good an explanation as any for Deneen being in his arms.

  All that mattered was that she was there to stay.

  ###

  Did you enjoy Black Flame? Please consider leaving a review and share your thoughts with other readers!

  Don’t miss the other two books available in The Boomtown Boys Series BLACK GOLD and BLACK HEAT. I’ve included excerpts below for your enjoyment.

  Other books available from Ruby Laska

  The Cupid Island Series:

  Larissa Learns To Breathe

  Mandy Makes Her Mark

  Plain Jane’s Birthday Wish

  Stand Alone Novels:

  Mine ‘Til Monday

  Heartbreak, Tennessee

  A Man For The Summer

  Along For The Ride

  Mountain Song

  Join Ruby’s newsletter to stay up-to-date on new releases and automatically be entered for giveaways.

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  Now for an excerpt from BLACK GOLD (Book #1 in the Boomtown Boys Series)

  BLACK GOLD

  The Boomtown Boys #1

  Ruby Laska

  The girl singing on stage was nearing the end of her set. Sweat poured down her face, taking what remained of her eye makeup with it. Her cheap tank top had lost a few sequins during the performance and there was a long, ragged thread hanging from the edge of her skirt. Only her boots looked like they'd come from anywhere other than a thrift store: fire engine red with swirls of fancy stitching on the side.

  Regina McCary hung on to every note, imagining that the familiar adrenaline rush might be what a natural-born predator felt as it closed in on its prey. She drained the last of her weak gin and tonic and forced down a bite of her sandwich. It wouldn't do to let hunger or dehydration slow her down, not this close to the score.

  "Not bad, is she?" a familiar voice grated in her ear when the song ended. The small audience clapped enthusiastically, especially a group of drunk guys taking up most of the back of the bar around the pool tables, and Regina could barely hear him. But she'd know that voice anywhere. Her heart sank and she squeezed her eyes shut and prayed: not here, not now. Surely, he wouldn't have followed her all the way here from Nashville, not when this was supposed to be her first vacation in six years.

  But when she finally opened her eyes, it was Carl Cash who had slid into the chair across the small table from her. He pushed her plate out of the way to make room to set his familiar canvas knapsack on the table.

  "What the hell are you doing here?" Regina demanded.

  "Following up on a hot tip. But, honey, you don't want to talk about work, do you? Not while you're on vacation."

  "How do you know I'm on vacation?"

  But Regina could guess, and her heart plummeted because there was only one person who could have told Carl where she was, and the betrayal stung: Meredith Jester wasn't just her boss, she was supposedly her friend.

  "I'd have to be your friend to do this," Meredith had said the day she told Regina she had two choices: take a vacation, or find another job. "It would be easier to just cut you loose. Or let you work yourself to death."

  Meredith had always had a soft spot for Carl, who had worked at her talent agency before striking out on his own. Never mind that Carl had become her number one competitor. Meredith was loyal to all of her former employees. That had worked out well back when Regina had been dating him, and even better when she’d been engaged to him. Meredith had even helped plan their wedding, when she wasn't busy running her talent agency.

  When Regina and Carl broke up, Regina suggested it would be a good time for Meredith to let go too. But Meredith replied that there were enough rising country music stars to keep both Cash Professional Management and the Jester Group busy, and besides, she enjoyed the competition. She and Carl continued to try to poach eac
h other's hottest clients while trading friendly barbs and gossip about Regina.

  "Okay," Regina said, taking a deep breath. "Look. I suppose Meredith told you to come up here and keep an eye on me. But I do know how to take a break from work, Carl. I'm on vacation, nothing more."

  "In a bar," Carl said, raising an eyebrow, "with live music."

  "There aren't a whole lot of entertainment options in Conway, North Dakota," Regina hedged. "Haven't you noticed?"

  "Which makes it seem like a very odd choice for a vacation."

  "No, wait, there's hiking—"

  "Yeah, Meredith told me about that. Miles of unpaved trails with views of... nothing. Come on, Regina, there's way better hiking around Nashville. And besides, you don't even own a pair of hiking boots."

  "And there's rafting on the Little Yellow River. And there's a historic fort around here somewhere—"

  "Right. Maybe Meredith fell for all of that. But I think I know you just a little better than she does." Carl tugged the leather laces of his knapsack and reached inside, pulling out a sleek top-of-the-line laptop.

  The knapsack, like so much about Carl, was part of the disguise he had cultivated. He never actually came out and denied the rumors that he was Johnny Cash's nephew, but he made damn sure to cover up the fact he was the one who started most of those rumors. Regina was one of the only people who knew he'd been born Carl Bettendorf from upstate New York, and gotten himself a fancy East Coast education before coming to Nashville and transforming himself.

  After a few taps of the keyboard, Carl spun the laptop around and Regina found herself looking at a publicity shot of the same girl who'd exited the stage only moments earlier. Underneath were the columns of data that Carl was so good at digging up: the handful of venues she'd played in the last few years, the few minor acts she'd opened for, the unknown bands she'd belonged to before they broke up.