Feisty Firefighters Bundle

by Jill Shalvis

  She still did.

  Her heart stalled. It was true. She loved Cade. Despite the years, despite the divorce, her heart still belonged to this man. He drew her in and touched her in a way no one else ever could.

  She saw awareness flash in his eyes and her pulse thrilled in response. So he felt it, too. That pull, that wild attraction, that insatiable, soul-wrenching need.

  But what did that change? What did it matter? She jerked her gaze away.

  And nearly wept at the awful irony. All these years, she’d wanted security. And when she’d finally found a steady man, one who would never leave her, she’d realized she couldn’t marry without love.

  And the one man she was destined to love, the one who touched her soul and stirred her heart, could never stay at her side.

  He made a final wrap on the bandage, and propped her foot on his knee again. “Go ahead and secure it,” he said.

  Her throat cramping, a huge sense of loss weighting her chest, she worked the small metal clip through the elastic until it caught. “That’s great. Thanks.”

  She managed to curve her lips up into a smile and shift away. Then, feeling shredded inside, she picked up her shoe, loosened the laces and worked it onto her foot.

  While she tied her shoe, Cade collected their bags and refilled the canteens. Then she grabbed the leash and stood, allowing her weight to shift to her foot. The bandage felt tight, but it braced her ankle. She just hoped it would get her to that clearing.

  “How does it feel?” Cade asked.

  “Great.”

  “Jordan…”

  “I’m fine. Really.” Except she loved a man she couldn’t marry. Ignoring the despair filling her chest, she forced her gaze to his. “Shall we go?”

  “Yeah.” His brows furrowed, and he looked troubled, as if he wanted to say more. But then he turned away. She waited until he started walking before she slowly fell in behind him.

  A deep sense of futility filled her, but she shook the sensation off. She couldn’t dwell on what she’d lost, not now. And she couldn’t think about the future, or what could never be. She’d just concentrate on the present, getting herself up that next mountain.

  No matter how much she ached for this man.

  As Cade had predicted, the game trail had stopped at the creek. She let him take the lead, content to plod behind him as he blazed a path through the brush. She skirted huckleberry bushes laden with berries, detoured around alder and fir trees and crawled over decaying logs. Maneuvering through the rough terrain took concentration, giving her a welcome excuse to stay silent. The last thing she wanted to do was discuss her heartbreak with Cade.

  But as the yards passed the slope grew even steeper, and her pace dramatically slowed. Her lungs burned, her breathing grew harsh and her chest felt stuffed with cotton. And despite the bandage, her ankle screamed with every step.

  “Are you okay?” Cade called back.

  “I’m fine,” she wheezed out. A sharp branch scratched her face, and she batted it back.

  So this was how Cade spent his summers, she marveled. Hiking through the untamed forest, going without showers for days. She wondered how he could stand it. She’d never survive a packout, especially with a hundred pounds of tools on her back.

  Smokejumpers were a special breed, all right. She couldn’t imagine competing for this job.

  Exhausted now, she glanced at the dog. He trotted happily beside her, sending a slither of warmth to her heart. He looked silly with Cade’s sock knotted on his collar, and despite crossing the river, he still desperately needed a bath. But at least he wasn’t wandering through the forest alone anymore.

  A few yards later, Cade stopped. Desperate for the break, she stumbled to a halt beside him.

  “You thirsty?” he asked.

  She sawed air through her burning lungs and nodded. He turned to give her access to his PG bag, and she gratefully grabbed the canteen. She drank deeply, greedily, relishing the moisture on her raw throat. She paused, wiped the sweat from her forehead with her sleeve and guzzled down more.

  With her thirst partially quenched, she handed him the canteen. He took several long gulps and gave it back. She drank again, then recapped it and slipped it into his bag, ready to go.

  But he didn’t move. Still panting, she looked up.

  “Why didn’t you sell the cabin before now?” he asked.

  Her breath stopped, and all at once she felt dizzy, as if she hadn’t the strength to stand up. It was a good question, one she’d refused to answer for years. And one she’d prayed he wouldn’t ask.

  But she’d dodged the truth long enough. She inhaled sharply to gather her courage, then locked her gaze on his. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I guess I didn’t want to think about it at first, the cabin, the divorce.” The baby. “I hadn’t expected you to give it to me, you know. So I didn’t really know what to do.”

  “Your lawyer demanded the cabin in the settlement.”

  “I…I didn’t know. I should have. I’m sorry.” She swallowed hard. “I know that’s not an excuse. I was young and silly. A coward,” she admitted. She’d been so intent on avoiding Cade that she hadn’t even questioned the terms. “I just wanted to forget.

  “But it didn’t work,” she whispered. “I couldn’t forget. Not the marriage, and certainly not you.”

  She searched his eyes, hoping he’d understand, but his expression remained blank.

  She sighed. “Later on, I thought about selling, but I still couldn’t make myself do it.” She couldn’t sever that last tie to Cade. “And I think…I knew that I had to come back here to face the past. To think about what had happened. But I didn’t have the courage until now.”

  His hard jaw tightened beneath the bristles, and the muscles in his taut cheeks tensed. Then something like regret flashed in his eyes, along with the deep pain she’d caused.

  Her heart made a slow, guilty roll through her chest. She’d never meant to hurt Cade. Never. She’d just been so racked with grief herself that she hadn’t thought her actions through.

  “Cade,” she pleaded. She reached out to touch him. “I-”

  He jerked back, stopping her cold.

  Her throat thick, she dropped her hand to her side. “I’m sorry. I wish…I wish we’d talked like this before.”

  But they’d fallen for each other too fast. They hadn’t given their relationship time, hadn’t talked about who they were or what they wanted. Maybe she’d been too young even to know.

  Instead, they’d communicated with their bodies and hearts.

  “We both saw what we wanted to,” he said, his voice quiet. “An illusion.”

  Dread chugged through her belly. “And what was it you wanted to see?” she whispered.

  “A woman who understood me. One who loved me enough to wait.”

  The woman she could never be.

  His jaw rigid, he strode away.

  Chapter 11

  He’d done it again.

  His jaw clenched, his gut churning, Cade strode through the trees up the mountain. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he control himself around Jordan? He should forget their damn marriage and keep it locked in the past. Instead, he kept trying to get closer, probe deeper, to figure out why she’d left.

  As if he didn’t already know.

  Pinecones crunched under his boots. Low branches scratched his face, and he shoved them aside with a scowl. He knew the truth, all right, but he couldn’t shake off the sensation that there was something he still couldn’t see, something she had kept hidden. Some detail that would help it make sense.

  Right. Talk about fantasies. Disgusted, he swatted away another branch. He was pathetic around that woman, like some crazy lemming blinding himself to reality to hurl himself off a cliff.

  It was those eyes that undid him. Those hypnotic eyes of hers pulled at him, sucking him under, making him want to ignore the truth. Convincing him she was the woman he’d once believed.

  He hissed out his
breath and glanced back. Her face flushed, Jordan struggled through the dense brush behind him. Devil’s club arched close to her head, its flat leaves trembling as she pushed past.

  And as he watched her climb, his pulse still thundering in his ears, he felt his resentment slip. No matter what she’d done in the past, he had to hand it to her now. He’d never seen anyone try so hard.

  She wasn’t in condition for this trek, wasn’t even equipped with good boots. She had blisters on her feet, scrapes on her legs, and she could barely stand on that ankle. And even from this distance he could see her exhaustion.

  Yet she hadn’t complained even once. Throughout this ordeal she had pulled her weight, determined to keep herself going. She even looked out for the dog.

  And it was hard to hold on to his bitterness when she was so damned nice. It would be easier if she whined or complained, even cried. But instead, she was a great companion. She always had been. Easygoing, good-humored, sexy as hell.

  The kind of woman he wanted to come home to for the rest of his life.

  He shoved that thought away, unwilling to entertain that dangerous yearning. Because no matter how much he wished things were different, he couldn’t alter the past.

  Panting noisily, she closed the distance between them. Then she stopped, propped her hands on her knees, and gasped for breath. Her cheeks were bright, and her dark hair tangled over her shoulders. Dirt smudged her delicate chin.

  But despite her exhaustion, determination gleamed in her eyes, and he couldn’t help but feel impressed. She was a hell of a fighter.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I’m…fine.”

  “Want some water?”

  Still wheezing, she shook her head, sending dark curls wisping around her flushed face. “No, I’m…all right.”

  He doubted that, but they couldn’t afford to rest yet. They were still miles away from that clearing. Worse yet, sheltered in this valley between the mountains, he couldn’t tell where the fire was heading.

  And that made him damned nervous.

  “Hold on.” He dropped his PG bag to the ground and pulled his radio from the outside pocket. Ignoring the sharp pain lancing his shoulder, he straightened and keyed the mike.

  Nothing happened.

  He blinked, checked the switch, and tried again. Still nothing. Dread slinked through his gut. Hell, this was all they needed.

  “What’s wrong?” Jordan asked, her voice high.

  “Looks like the batteries died.” His jaw rigid, he jammed the radio back in his bag and pulled out his compass.

  Jordan raised her hand to her throat.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said. He kept his voice even so she wouldn’t worry. “They already know where to meet us.”

  “But how are we doing on time?”

  “Great.” As long as they flew the rest of the way. He checked the compass, relieved that they hadn’t veered off course, then shoved it into his pocket.

  “Look,” he continued calmly. “There’s a lookout ridge just after we get out of this valley. It’s probably another hundred yards. If you think you can make it that far, we’ll wait and take a rest then.”

  “I told you, I’m fine.”

  “Good.” He swung the bag back over his shoulder and, once he was sure she was ready, headed off at a steady pace. He’d spotted the ridge earlier that morning, back on the opposite peak. He hoped they could survey the fire from there, especially now that they’d lost radio contact.

  Because he sure as hell didn’t want to walk into a trap.

  And these were perfect blowup conditions. The steep slopes and high winds would increase the speed of the fire. And if that blaze switched paths, tunneling through the valley and igniting below them, they could never escape.

  His throat clenched tight, and a cold chill snaked up his spine. He’d seen the videos, completed the training. Knew all about Mann Gulch and Storm King Mountain, when smokejumpers in conditions just like these had found themselves entrapped. They’d streamed up the mountain, dazed and panicked, trying desperately to outrun the flames, sprinting frantically for their lives. A race they were destined to lose.

  And the same thing could happen to them here.

  His nerves tighter than a parachute’s shroud lines, he rammed his worries to the back of his mind, where they wouldn’t distract him from the task at hand. Instead, he focused on slugging up the steep slope toward the ridge so he could find the best way to safety.

  But his body protested with every step. His skull banged beneath his hard hat. The dull ache pulsing his shoulder now racked him with piercing pain. And if he felt this lousy, he couldn’t imagine how Jordan kept up.

  He glanced back, and regret surged through his chest. He wished he could help her more. If his damn shoulder would cooperate, he’d carry her over the mountain. She didn’t weigh much more than a loaded pack.

  Too bad she didn’t have crutches. He frowned, wondering why that hadn’t occurred to him before. This deep in the forest, he could easily find a walking stick.

  He kept an eye out for likely branches as he continued hiking. He had plenty to choose from. It had been decades since a fire had burned through, leaving the area choked with deadfall and brush. Which made the forest ripe for a massive fire, especially in these drought conditions. One good spark, either from lightning or a drifting ember, would ignite the entire peak.

  Which didn’t help their chances of escape.

  He finally spotted a downed branch that looked the right width. He swung the bags off his shoulder, used his foot as leverage to break off the smaller side shoots, then hefted it in his hand. “This should work.”

  “For what?”

  “A walking stick.” He turned and handed it back. “Maybe you can take some weight off that ankle.”

  “Oh.” A slow smile spread over her face, lighting her eyes to a golden brown. “I should have thought of that myself. Thank you.”

  Their eyes held, and for a moment, his world careened to a halt. His breath backed up in his chest, and every nerve seemed to stretch.

  He forced himself to inhale. It was only a stick, for God’s sake. He hadn’t done anything special. But that smile of hers had the most amazing effect on him, making him feel as if he’d conquered the world.

  Still feeling off balance, he picked up the bags and resumed hiking. She’d always had that effect on him. She’d made him feel whole, valued, as if he were really worthwhile.

  Just like smokejumping did. It was the only place he’d found validation, where he could do everything right.

  And he’d do this right, too. He’d get them safely off this mountain.

  Focusing back on that goal, he angled steadily across the steep slope, skirting jagged stobs and bushes. A small animal dove into a stand of huckleberry as he passed, rustling through the dense brush and shaking the leaves. Yards later, the trees thinned out, and he turned again to check her progress.

  “This is great,” she told him as she hobbled up. “Just what I-”

  The dog abruptly stopped. The leash went taut and she stumbled, staggering to regain her balance. She thrust out the stick to break her fall just as Cade leaped back and grabbed her.

  “Thanks.” Wincing, she steadied herself against him.

  The contact jolted along his nerves, and he tightened his grip on her waist. She felt soft and warm, and way too good in his arms.

  “Are you all right?” he murmured.

  “I’m fine. He just caught me by surprise.” Her lips curved into a grimace. “But I’m glad I had the stick. I would have fallen without it.”

  “Yeah.” His gaze met hers. The air seemed suddenly thick, and he could barely pull it into his lungs.

  She stepped away, her cheeks flushed, and he reluctantly released her. Then she looked at the dog, tugged on the leash, and huffed. “What’s wrong? What are you doing, silly? Come on.”

  She pulled again, but the dog sat down and lifted his nose.

  She plan
ted her hands on her hips. “He won’t budge. I guess he must be tired.”

  “Maybe.” He watched the dog scent the air. And maybe he smelled something they didn’t.

  Unease chilled his gut. Even with his better nose, that dog shouldn’t smell the smoke yet. Unless the fire had jumped the river and pushed the front over that mountain. Or the wind had shifted early and the fire was heading their way.

  Which meant they had to get out of here fast.

  “Come on,” he said to the dog, his tone brusque. “Let’s go.”

  With a little whine, Dusty rose and trotted forward.

  “Well, that’s interesting,” Jordan said. “He wouldn’t listen to me.”

  Cade grunted, more concerned about the fire than the dog’s behavior. He moved quickly back into the lead, staying alert for signs of the blaze. He heard an air tanker rumble in the distance. Dropping more mud, he hoped.

  Then the pine branches creaked overhead, and a warm breeze fanned his face. Relieved, he glanced up at the swaying treetops. That wind meant they’d made it out of the valley. They couldn’t be far from the ridge.

  But then another gust blew past, trailing the faint smell of smoke, and his pulse slammed to a halt. The dog was right. That fire was closer than he’d expected.

  “Cade?” Jordan said, her voice pitched high. “Do you smell that?”

  “We’re doing fine,” he called back. “It’s just drifting smoke.”

  Which shouldn’t be anywhere near them right now. It was still too damned early. That wind should blow north until tonight.

  He balled his good hand into a fist, wishing to God he could see that fire. He hated hiking through this forest blind.

  Because if he’d learned anything in his years of smokejumping, it was to trust his instincts. And right now, every nerve in his body urged him to get to that clearing fast.

  But Jordan couldn’t move any quicker. Even hiking this slowly, the woman had clearly reached her limit.

  Hoping to shorten the route, he slanted directly up the steep slope. But then her pace fell off even further, forcing him to drop back. Her breathing sawed in the mountain air.

  “I’m sorry,” she wheezed when she’d caught up. “I know I’m holding you back.”