Men of courage

by Lori Foster

  “Does, too. When we look through the photo albums. You remember the Gannon Christmas tradition. Mortify the children by rehashing their most embarrassing moments? Complete with film at eleven.”

  Haley smiled. She’d forgotten about that. Her family would have been mortified by having anyone mention their foibles in front of company. Besides, Brubakers didn’t make mistakes. They merely had learning opportunities. The Gannons on the other hand, considered their faults as fodder for the family grist mill, and laughed over them as much as the triumphs. Seemed far healthier to her, in retrospect. “Well, I hope I’m not part of that embarrassing past,” she joked. There was a long pause, and she actually tensed. “Brett?”

  “He did you a favor, you know,” he said finally.

  “What?”

  “Sean. Breaking up with you. He did you a favor.”

  “I know that. I mean, I didn’t at the time, but I realized it pretty soon afterward. He was good enough to keep in touch, at least for a little while. And—well, you’re right,” she said, leaving it at that.

  “But we did miss you. A lot.”

  “That’s really sweet, but I was just—”

  “I missed you.”

  There was something in his voice. And she couldn’t help remembering how his mouth had felt on hers, his hands on her, his body, so— She stopped, had to stop. He needed her help, not her stupid needy fantasies. “Brett, I—”

  “I had a major crush on you. Did you know that?”

  She opened her mouth, then shut it again and merely shook her head, forgetting he could only hear her.

  “I’m embarrassing you.”

  “No,” she said quickly. Too quickly? “I mean, I—I didn’t know.” And just thinking about it was almost too tantalizing, too filled with possibilities.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t notice I was all but drooling every time you came home with Sean. I thought I was pretty suave in hiding it. But let’s face it, I was all of sixteen at the time. How suave could I have been?”

  “I always thought you were adorably cute and sweet. And funny.”

  “Ouch.”

  She smiled despite herself. “It’s better than me remembering you as a drooling teenager with a crush, isn’t it? And I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I’ve—I’ve always had fond memories of you. Your whole family,” she added quickly, though not sure why. He’d brought up this conversational path. He’d been the one making the revelations. And, while truth be told, she’d never thought of Brett in a romantic or sexual way back years before… it seemed she couldn’t think of him in any other way now. And that was with the world literally falling apart around her. Imagine where her thoughts would go if they were actually to spend some normal time together. And, as simply as that, she realized she wanted to.

  “I dreamed about you,” he said.

  She didn’t know what to say to that, either. Tell him she imagined she’d dream about him now, too?

  “I’m glad we met up again, Brett,” she said, deciding that was a truth they could both handle. “Sorry for the reasons, but glad nonetheless.”

  “Me, too. Which is good. Because now you have to come home with me.”

  “Home? To Baton Rouge?”

  “No, home to San Francisco. It’s where I live now. In my undamaged home. Where I’ll be, with my bum ankle. Laid up for some time.”

  She grinned. “Ah, playing the sympathy/guilt angle, are we?”

  “Is it working?”

  “It might be.”

  “Good. Because I was serious earlier. I have a spare room. Plenty of workspace in my garage. Recon will be more than glad to share her food and water. Although Mr. Squeaky is not up for grabs. Just a friendly warning.”

  “Mr. Squeaky?”

  “The god of all dog toys.”

  “I’ll make sure Digger knows.”

  “Then it’s all set.”

  “But—” Her response was drowned out by the thwap-thwap of helicopter blades. Only this time they didn’t fly away.

  Help had finally come. They were all going to be okay.

  The helicopter maneuvered into place, the wind thrust from the blades making the treetops thrash, while bits of dust and rubble swirled up from the road. They lifted higher and for a moment Haley thought they were going to fly away, but she soon realized they were just adjusting their height to diminish the force of downward thrusting air. Shortly afterward, a man in yellow rescue gear was lowered on a cable and dangled there as they maneuvered him around so he could inspect what was left of her garage. Then they shifted slightly, but the motion was enough to swing him over to where she and the dogs huddled.

  “You okay?” the man shouted, barely discernible over the sound of the chopper above.

  Haley nodded vigorously. “Fine. Animals are fine,” she shouted.

  He gave her a thumbs-up, then spoke into the mouthpiece that was attached to his headgear. Moments later the chopper shifted again and they began the painstaking chore of determining how to lift Brett from the shorn-off remains of her garage. After what seemed like hours but was— amazingly—probably less than thirty minutes, they’d managed to get a harness to him and lift him from the rubble.

  Haley’s heart was in her throat the entire time he was winched up and finally, thankfully, hauled safely into the chopper. Then the cable dropped again, this time with a rescue worker attached. The helicopter shifted and they motioned her and the dogs back and shouted down through bull horns for her to turn away and close her eyes. She did so, keeping the dogs huddled until she felt a tap on her back. She jumped, but was quickly held in place by the strong hands of the rescue worker—who, as it happened, was a woman.

  “Hold on tight, we’re going to get you and these guys out of here.” She motioned to the dog carrier. “Can you put your dog back in the carrier please? It will be easier to lift him.”

  Haley nodded and made her way to the carrier with Digger. Shielding her eyes from the whips of dust and dirt stirred up by the blades thwapping overhead, she turned in time to see Recon being lifted by her harness to the chopper.

  The rescue worker motioned her over. “You’re next.” She reached out for the carrier, which Haley instinctively clutched to her chest. “He’ll be okay. He’s riding up with me,” the worker told her with a confident smile.

  Haley forced a smile, thankful for her easygoing manner. As if this was no big deal, all in a day’s work. Once again, it was brought home to her what amazing work people like Brett and this woman did. When it was all over, she’d make sure to thank them all personally. The woman motioned to the cable, which had been lowered again. She grabbed hold of it and unhooked the harness. “Let’s go,” she shouted.

  Haley looked up to see Brett all but dangling out of the side of the chopper, shooting her two thumbs-up. She shook her head and smiled… then strapped on the harness.

  She kept her gaze locked on his the entire, hair-raising trip up to the chopper, never once looking down. Not so much because of a fear of heights—though dangling a hundred yards above the earth by a cable was not her idea of a fun time—but because she didn’t want to see just how complete the devastation was below. She’d seen enough to know it would only make her more heartsick.

  But as she was hauled into the chopper and released from her harness, she took one look at that cocky grin, that definite twinkle in his eyes, all there despite the pain he was in… and she had to wonder if she hadn’t just escaped one life-threatening situation to land herself in another.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “You’re supposed to be sitting with that ankle elevated.”

  Brett looked over his shoulder from where he was presently standing. Or sort of standing. Actually, he was balancing his weight on one foot, leaning the rest on the kitchen counter in his small Telegraph Hill home. “You’re the guest, don’t worry about me.”

  Haley leaned against the door frame and folded her arms. “I believe the deal was, you give me temporary shelter and I assuage my guilty con
science by nursing you back to health.”

  “I’m just making something to eat, then I promise—”

  “Right, right. And last time it was just ‘I have to get one thing from my room.’ Or, ‘I just want to get the Sunday paper, then I promise I’ll be good.’”

  Brett laughed, thinking if only she knew how good he wanted to promise her he could be. Or how many times since she’d come home with him that he’d had to forcibly keep from yanking her into his arms and tasting that mouth of hers again.

  Instead he enjoyed just looking at her, all neat and tidy in her fresh khakis and polo shirt. They’d liberated her luggage yesterday and to look at her now, you’d never guess she’d been banged up and suffered a near-death experience a day earlier. Circumstances notwithstanding, he’d liked her a bit messy and wild around the edges, but this Haley was just as arousing. Probably all those fantasies he harbored about getting her messy and wild all over again.

  He wondered if she had any clue how much he enjoyed knowing she was in his kitchen, in his house, his home. Now if he could just stop thinking about having her in his bed, life would be much easier. But he didn’t think that was going to happen anytime soon. She’d only been with him for two days, most of which had been spent in a whirl of talking with insurance adjusters, contacting various rescue and cleanup effort organizations and trying to determine how much, if any, of her home and belongings she was going to be able to recover. The second aftershock had not only destroyed the garage, but had caused structural damage to the foundation of her house. Neither appeared to be reparable. Not to mention that the road leading to her house was a total loss. The entire area had been declared a hazard and was off-limits for the time being.

  He’d worried about Haley handling the whole ordeal, had made it clear he was there for her. But she’d taken charge of her destiny, as much as someone could given the circumstances, with hardly more than a ripple of emotion. He realized part of that was due to the fact that not only had she rescued Digger, but Brett had refused rescue until the chopper personnel had agreed to lift her small safe out of the garage, as well. She’d thanked him for both efforts so often he’d finally had to tell her to stop. It was his job. For her, it was all she had left. That and two suitcases.

  Her house and land were probably worthless and she’d already decided she’d have to relocate. She hadn’t said where, and he hadn’t asked. But he knew if he wanted her in his life beyond the next couple of days, life-altering disaster or no, he was going to have to work fast. Because he wasn’t going to just stand by and watch her walk out of his life again. She wasn’t the only one whose life had been dramatically altered in one day. He felt as if his had been turned upside down. And he was enjoying the view just fine, thanks. So, as long as her life was being dramatically altered, she might as well alter it a bit more to include him.

  “I’m waiting, and you’re still standing,” she said, tapping her fingers against her arm. But there was a smile lurking just behind that frown. He liked that it was always there, just below the surface. It encouraged him to coax it out of hiding. Something he’d discovered he enjoyed immensely.

  “It’s just a mild sprain. The doctor said—”

  “I was there, remember? I know what he said, and you’re not doing it.”

  “Nag, nag, nag,” Brett muttered, but he was grinning when he said it.

  Fighting her own smile, Haley picked up a wooden spoon and waved it at him. “Don’t make me use this.”

  Brett laughed, then hopped away from her when she took a step forward. “Kitchen weaponry. One of the few wilderness skills I’m not trained in.”

  “It’s a female thing,” Haley informed him, taking another step, a fake scowl on her face. “We’re born with it. Even us Brubakers, gener-ations of whom have never set foot in a kitchen. But don’t let that fool you.”

  “No, uh-uh. I’d never underestimate a woman with a kitchen utensil in her hand.”

  “Smart man. So don’t make me teach you a lesson.” She pointed to the door with the spoon. “Go. Sit. Your own dog is ashamed of your disobedient behavior.”

  Brett glanced at the door, where Recon sat observing the scene in front of her with avid interest. Usually that would be due to the fact that when Brett was in the kitchen, food might hit the floor at any time. But her attention was on the two humans in the room. She’d accepted the interlopers in her house with her usual exuberant joy and enthusiasm. Digger had initially annoyed her greatly with his endless inspections, until she figured out he could hold his own in a tug-of-war contest with her favorite knotted rag.

  Haley had worried they’d break something with all their racing and ripping around, but Brett waved off her concern. After spending the past few months surrounded by destruction, it was wonderful and life affirming to have raucous happy noises fill his house. Even if they were canine in origin…and not Haley’s moans of pleasure. He really had to stop picturing her naked, he decided. Even the wooden spoon couldn’t deter him from a sudden tight fit to his shorts.

  “Recon knows she won’t get fed unless I get this done and on the floor.”

  Haley glanced at his food preparation and realized it was not intended for human consumption. “Oh.” The spoon faltered. But only for a moment. “Fine, then,” she announced, motioning to the small breakfast nook area that was part of the narrow kitchen. “Sit there, prop your foot up and tell me what to do.”

  “I begin to see the Brubaker strengths.”

  “We do run a tight ship. But, although my forebears might roll in their graves, not to mention the ones actually still breathing in the family mausoleum in Connecticut, the fact is, I’m handy enough in the kitchen. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

  He was pretty sure she wasn’t prepared for him to say, “Great, get naked and meet me in my bed in five minutes.” Which was the time it would take him to hop there on one foot. Yeah, totally smooth, Gannon. That’ll have her drooling for you.

  He’d been wondering if he was the only one feeling the sexual tension lurking just below the surface of their platonic living arrangements. He wished now he hadn’t told her about his teenage crush. She probably felt sorry for him. Or worse, still saw him as a too young contender. Which was ridiculous. It was one thing when he was sixteen and she nineteen, but now?

  “So, what do I do with this stuff?”

  “I really get to give orders now?” he said, grinning when she scowled at his smug smile. “Do Brubakers take orders as well as they give them?”

  “Well, there is probably a reason why I work alone,” she said with a grudging smile of her own. “Being my own boss doesn’t give me anyone to order around. But then, I don’t have anyone giving me commands, either.”

  He leaned over and snatched the wooden spoon she was still waving around as she spoke. It was all he could do not to reach for her, too. He tested the belly of the spoon against his palm, then leered comically at her. “Ah, the conniving cripple takes the upper hand away from the domineering damsel.”

  She feigned fright, clasping a hand dramatically to her chest. “Why, you wouldn’t dare, sir.”

  He waggled his eyebrows and slapped the spoon hard in his palm, making her jump. And, oddly enough, arousing the hell out of him. Not that he wanted to use it on her, nor did he believe she wanted it used, but there was no mistaking that sexual spark that had just leaped between them. “Good thing I’m laid up with this bum ankle and dependent on your innate kindness and sympathy.”

  She merely rolled her eyes, then turned back to the counter. “So, what— Hey!”

  She spun around, hands clasped to her very nicely rounded backside. The same backside he’d just leaned over and thwapped lightly with the spoon. He couldn’t help himself, he who had never struck a woman, even in play. Sexual or otherwise. He didn’t know why exactly he’d done it now, except he liked her better when she wasn’t so perfectly contained. She had a sharp wit and he admired the fact that she wasn’t a complete mess over this whole th
ing. She had held up almost too well during the entire ordeal. It made him wonder what all she’d been through that, despite the occasional smile and the underlying foundation of good humor, she worked so hard to be in total control at all times. What was she afraid would happen if she just let go?

  She rubbed her backside and gave him a look. “Do you want me to call your mother?”

  Brett recoiled in mock horror, but he immediately put the spoon down. “I’ll behave.”

  She smiled dryly. “That’ll be the day.”

  God, did she have any idea what she was doing to him? How badly he wanted them to misbehave? Together? Repeatedly and at great length?

  Haley had once again turned back to the counter. And his opportunity to act on his impulses had once again safely passed. Damn it.

  “Does she really eat all this stuff?” Haley asked, nose wrinkled.

  “Are you kidding? That’s doggie gourmet cuisine. And after all she’s been through, she deserves that and more.”

  Haley turned then, a thoughtful look on her face. “I can’t truly comprehend how hard it must be for both of you, doing what you do. But I think it’s wonderful that you do it. And I know I’m not speaking just for myself.”

  “Thank you,” he said, humbled by her serious comment.

  “What made you get into this, anyway? Not just the rescue part, the fire department, too. The whole thing.”

  They’d talked in the car on the way to the airport yesterday morning and he’d told her about how he’d spent the past couple of months. She’d told him about the jewelry consignment contracts she’d just signed. But neither had talked much about how they’d ended up doing what they did.

  “I volunteered at the fire department as part of a college course I was taking, for community service. I thought it would be interesting. And— well.” He shrugged. “I guess you could say I found my calling. As for the SAR work, well, maybe that is my truer calling. I love working with the dogs, making a difference. It’s incredible how smart they are. It started when I went with a friend of mine, who’s a handler, to one of the competitions they regularly hold.”