by Jill Shalvis
“You’re doing great.”
“Hardly.” She shot him a skeptical look. “I can’t believe you do this for a living. You’re in incredible shape.”
“You get used to it. And it’s not always so rough.” He decided it wouldn’t hurt to keep talking. It might take her mind off her pain and help her get to the ridge.
And keep him from worrying about that fire.
“The first couple days on a fire can be hard,” he said as they continued walking. “The goal is to contain it fast, before it spreads. So that first night nobody sleeps. We automatically push through until morning.”
“That must be tough.”
“Yeah, but everyone expects it. And strong coffee helps.”
Despite her fatigue, she shot him a smile, a genuine one that played along the edges of her mouth and lit up her eyes. He grinned back. She’d always shuddered at the sludge he’d brewed.
“After that, it depends on the fire and how long we stay out there. The fire lies down at night when the wind dies, so that gives us a few hours to rest.”
“That’s still not much.”
“You get used to it.” And after a while, it became a way of life. Crawling into his hootch near dawn, filthy and exhausted, his arm muscles trembling, his lungs burning from choking back smoke.
Lying under the moaning pine trees, his body spent, too tired even to doze. Listening to the fire crackling around him and the hypnotic wail of the wind.
And with that exhaustion, in those moments of weakness, the loneliness came creeping back, the vulnerability. The thoughts of Jordan.
When he was too damned tired to fight off the truth anymore. When his anger slipped, and he yielded to that soul-wrenching need. That longing for what he could never have.
The wish that she’d loved him enough to wait.
And despite it all, night after night, he found himself aching for her, wanting her, wondering what he could have done to make her stay.
Another gust of smoke drifted by, and he shook himself back to the present. He glanced at her, and saw she was now limping badly. Her face was furrowed in concentration, and lines of pain etched her brow. That ankle had to hurt like hell, but she still persevered.
And suddenly, he knew that the next time he lay alone in the darkness, he’d picture her like this. He’d remember her spirit, her strength, her determination.
But willpower alone wouldn’t get her up this mountain. He had to keep her mind off the pain. “Once we get the fire contained, the work gets easier,” he said.
“How? You still have to pack out your stuff.”
“Yeah, but that’s easier than fighting the fire.”
“Right.” Her tone told him she wasn’t fooled.
“And we don’t always pack it out. Sometimes, if we’ve got a lot of equipment, they do a long-line gear retrieval. That’s when a helicopter comes by and picks it up with a net.
“And if the season’s really busy, they even fly us out. So we can get back on the jump list and be ready for another fire.”
“But not normally.”
“No, usually once the fire’s out, we pack up our gear and hike to the nearest road. We leave a couple of people behind to cold-trail the fire.” A fire could look as though it was out, but still smolder for weeks. So they had to go through on their hands and knees, digging out stumps, making sure it was out.
She wiped her forehead on her sleeve and wheezed in a breath. “I remember. You always stayed behind to do that.”
“Choice from the top, boned from the bottom.”
“Meaning?”
“That I didn’t have a choice. I had to stay. You’re not always first on the list.”
She blinked. “Oh, I thought…”
“What? That I didn’t want to come home?”
“Well, I…”
A stark stab of bitterness jolted his chest. Hell. “How could you think that?” Didn’t she know him at all?
“I’m sorry, I-” She cringed. “Oh, God. I assumed you were like my father, living for your job. I…I should have asked.”
“Yeah.”
And maybe he should have explained.
That thought caught him off guard, and he frowned. He’d figured she understood his world and what he did. But what if she really hadn’t?
He thought about what she’d said before. That they hadn’t talked much when they were married. She was right. They hadn’t explained themselves. He hadn’t thought it mattered.
But apparently, he’d been wrong. And suddenly, he needed to redeem himself, to make her understand. Even after all this time.
He stopped. Her dark eyes rose to meet his. “Look, Jordan.” He rubbed the nape of his neck. “I like my job. I always have. But just so you know, I didn’t want to leave you back then. I wasn’t trying to get away.”
“I know.” Her dark gaze softened. And suddenly, he saw the vulnerability in those beautiful eyes, the doubt.
And he felt like the worst kind of fool. She hadn’t understood. Not enough. And that explained so much. Her loneliness. The tears. The fights.
Feeling guilty, he reached out and tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. “I felt lonely, too,” he admitted, his voice gruff. “I thought about you all the time. And I always wanted to come home to you.”
“Cade, I…” Her voice trembled. Her dark eyes stayed on his. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I guess I needed to hear that.”
“Yeah.” And suddenly, deep in his gut, the tension eased. And the long years of bitterness began to unfurl.
He should have told her back then. It might have made a difference. Or maybe not. He would never know.
And it didn’t change anything now. She still didn’t want a smokejumper, and he wouldn’t give up his job. But at least they’d settled something, put some closure on the past. And maybe regained some trust.
His throat felt thick, his head dizzy. Then a whiff of smoke drifted past on the breeze and he pulled his gaze away. “We need to keep moving.”
“I know. Come on, Dusty,” she cooed to the dog, her voice lilting. Her gaze met his again as they started hiking. “I’m sorry I’m so slow. I know I’m holding you up.”
“You’re doing fine, really.”
“You’d be farther ahead without me.”
He couldn’t deny that. “I don’t mind the company, though.” In fact, there was no one he’d rather be with.
It was true, he realized with a start. He wanted to spend time with this woman. Somewhere in their hike across the mountains, he’d lost the urge to get away.
Which meant his resistance to her was crumbling.
And that put him in more danger than any fire.
Chapter 12
So he’d let himself become vulnerable to Jordan.
Cade battled through the thick mountain brush, that thought mired in his mind. Despite his defenses, she’d managed to suck him back in, luring him with her seductive warmth, that sense of caring. Tempting him with that relentless heat that flared whenever she was in sight.
He locked his jaw against the need to believe her. So what if she seemed sincere? He’d trusted her before, and she’d run off. Was she any more reliable now? Or was she only setting him up for another fall?
Did it matter? They weren’t married anymore. They wouldn’t need to see each other once they got off this mountain.
He blinked away the sweat stinging his eyes, and sighed. Yeah, it mattered. For some damn reason he couldn’t let go of that woman or purge her from his heart. She’d worked herself so deeply into his soul that nothing could pry her loose.
But he couldn’t dwell on that now, couldn’t let himself get distracted, not with the fire this close. He’d wade through his relationship with Jordan when they were safe.
And hope to God that by then, he could bash some sense into his brain.
He checked his watch, and the unease that had haunted him all day twisted his nerves. Even at their slow pace, they should be close to that spur ridge by
now. They’d been hiking for hours.
And he felt every second of it. A jackhammer shrilled in his skull. Hunger gnawed deep in his gut. His shoulder burned so badly that nausea swelled up his throat.
And if he felt this weak, he couldn’t imagine how Jordan kept moving. That ankle had to be killing her by now. And they still had miles to go, hours battling through steep, brushy terrain with that damn fire heating their steps.
He just hoped to God that she could make it.
He forged a path around a thick stand of huckleberry bushes and a gust of smoke-tinged wind brushed his face. He looked up, his chest heaving, and glimpsed a slice of sky through the trees. So they’d finally reached the ridge. The tension squeezing his gut slacked. Maybe now he could get a visual on that fire and figure out the fastest way to the top.
Hurrying now, he burst through the last few pine trees onto a rocky ledge. One glance, and his hopes tanked. He couldn’t see anything that would help him. Douglas fir towered up both sides of the ridge and obscured his view of the clearing. Straight ahead, a smoke bank piled over the valley, shrouding it in gray.
He turned to warn Jordan as she limped out of the trees behind him. “You’d better stay back. There isn’t much room out here.” Beyond him, the rock ledge sheered off abruptly, plunging thirty feet to the trees below.
“All right. Come on, Dusty.” The dog lunged and bucked, spooked by the strong smell of smoke. Hauling hard on the leash, Jordan dragged him back to the trees.
Cade pulled his own attention back to the mountain. He searched the pines on the uphill flank, but they shielded the clearing from view. Across the ridge on the eastern slope, the trees descended to the thick haze below. Between the peaks, the dense smoke pooled around the mountain, its edges fringed with dark charcoal. Further out, it boiled up white and fluffy, like innocent cumulus clouds.
But that fire was anything but harmless. Bright orange flames flicked through the heavy smoke, like the menacing breaths of a dragon. And beneath that thick cover, the blaze moved steadily forward, shaking the valley with an ominous roar.
And he couldn’t tell where it was heading. He dragged his hand over his eyes, rubbing against the sting of burning pine, and wished to hell that his radio worked. He urgently needed an update.
Acknowledging the futility of that wish, he headed back to Jordan. She stared at the smoky valley, her dark eyes huge in her pale face, her smooth jaw slack with fear.
His gut fisted in recognition. He’d seen that same look on the faces of rookies making their first jump from the plane.
And sometimes, a rookie was so damned scared that he froze in the door, unable to make himself leap. That ended his days as a smokejumper.
But unlike the rookies, they didn’t have a backup plan out here. A jump ship wouldn’t whisk them back to the base if Jordan balked. They had to get themselves to that clearing.
Which meant he needed to calm her down fast. He strode the final distance to the tree line. “Let’s take a break and have some water,” he said, his tone even. “I could use a rest, and you need to get your weight off that ankle.”
Her eyes still wide, she yanked her gaze from the smoke. “But do we have time?”
“A few minutes, anyways.” They couldn’t stay long, but a brief rest might settle her nerves.
A line furrowed her forehead, but she nodded. “All right. I still have that orange if you want it.”
“Sure, as long as you can peel it. I don’t think I’d do too well with my teeth.”
As he’d hoped, she managed a thin smile, then settled beside him in the parched grass.
“How does the fire look?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“According to the forecast, it should stay on the other ridge, at least until tonight.” But anything could happen. And if all hell broke loose, he needed her to keep a cool head.
She looped the makeshift leash around her leg and under her hip to secure it. The dog paced nervously, then abruptly dropped to her side.
“How’s your ankle?” he asked.
“Fine.” Her lips tightened, and the skin around her eyes pinched. “How’s your shoulder?”
He slanted his head. “About as fine as your ankle.” He handed her his canteen.
Their gazes caught, and she smiled, an amazingly brave smile that sparked laughter deep in her eyes.
And suddenly, the tension around them eased, and that connection seeped into his blood, that friendship that felt as comfortable as his worn-in smokejumper boots.
Maybe that was why they hadn’t talked much when they’d been married. Because just being together felt so damned good.
A blush rose along her cheeks, and she looked away. Wisps of dark, silky hair curled around her chin and tumbled over her shoulders as she raised the canteen to her mouth.
And he wondered how many hours he’d spent just like this, watching her, entranced by her beauty and grace. Absorbed by every detail about her, from the lush, dark lashes fringing her molten eyes to the sensual way that she moved.
She finished drinking, then pulled the dog’s bowl from her bag with her gentle hands, filled it and set it down. Still shaking, the dog rose and lapped the water.
She took another gulp from the canteen and gave it back. “Thanks.” Her soft lips curved again, and the movement made his body hum. Then she pulled the orange from the bag and peeled it.
He inhaled, forcing air to his mesmerized brain, and eased it back out. She hypnotized him, all right, emptying his head so he couldn’t think straight. But for both their sakes, this wasn’t the time to lose focus.
He forced his gaze to the burning valley. The fire appeared to be heading north, with the main thrust on the opposite peak. But the haphazard wind gusts could still spark spot fires in any direction. And he wouldn’t see them beneath the thick haze of smoke.
“I hope you didn’t leave anything important in that Jeep,” he said.
She shot him a startled look. “You think the fire got it?”
“Maybe. It’s hard to say with the wind shifting back and forth. But I’d guess it jumped the river and is making a hard run over the mountain.”
A small line creased her forehead and she frowned out at the swirling smoke. After a moment, she brought her gaze back to his. “That means our cabin’s gone, too.”
“Yeah.” Their gazes held.
And without warning, the air between them hung still, held immobile by the weight of the past. And memories piled up, images of when they’d been happy. Of Jordan smiling, her brown eyes gleaming with laughter. Of Jordan naked, her beautiful face taut with desire. His rapture at being with the one person on earth who met his needs.
The pine trees moaned overhead, and a stark emptiness seeped through his gut, a feeling of loss. Not for the cabin. Anyone could rebuild that. And new pine trees would eventually replace the burned ones, filling in the black.
No, the loss struck deeper, sharper, as if, with the cabin, a time of his life had vanished. And that seemed more final than the divorce.
He watched a series of similar emotions flicker across her face-pain and loss, regret. And suddenly, he saw beyond his bitterness to the truth in her dark eyes. “So you did care.”
“Yes.” Her whisper sent heat to his chest. “Of course I cared. God, I loved you so much.”
But then why the hell had she left?
“Cade, I-” She lifted her hand, then closed her mouth and shook her head.
She didn’t continue, and he sucked in a breath. The acrid smoke burned his lungs and pulled him back to the present. The fire. Their survival. That last steep stretch to the clearing.
This wasn’t the time to ask questions and rehash their past. He would figure all that out later, after that chopper airlifted them out.
When he had time to demand some answers.
She gave him a section of orange and cleared her throat. “So, it’s a good thing we switched directions.”
“Yeah.”
“But is it…Can t
he fire-”
“I doubt it.” He hated to lie, but she didn’t need him fueling her fears. “But I don’t really know,” he added, compelled to be honest. “The way this wind’s shifting, anything can happen.”
He swallowed the orange, took a deep slug of water and handed her back the canteen. Thinking hard now, he strode to the ledge to plot their course. To get to the clearing, they had to continue climbing up the south face of the mountain. The trek would be steep and slow, especially with Jordan’s sore ankle.
What bothered him was that he couldn’t see around the spur ridge. With the tall trees blocking his view, he couldn’t see where they needed to go. And if a finger of flame crept off the front and ignited this side…
Dread cramped his gut, and he tamped down the slither of fear. If only he could crank up that radio. He needed an update from dispatch, or for one of those tanker pilots to relay the view from the sky.
But his batteries were dead, and he couldn’t call, which meant they had to keep hiking. They didn’t have a choice. It was their only way off this mountain.
But he’d damn well better find an escape route in case that fire blew up. And with all the unburned fuel in this forest, he didn’t know how he’d manage that. They needed a burned-out section, another rock slide, something that fire would skirt around. And he hadn’t seen anything like that for miles.
He strode back to Jordan. She scrambled to her feet, her eyes locked on his. “Are you ready?” she asked, her voice quivering.
“Yeah.” He lifted their bags while she wrapped the leash around her fist and picked up her stick.
His gaze met hers again when she straightened. “We’re going to keep angling up the mountain. We’ll zigzag to make it easier, but it’s probably going to be steep. We need to get around to the south side where that clearing is.”
“I understand.”
Worry lurked in her dark chestnut eyes, along with fear. And he knew that she really did understand. This was it. They might not have another chance to talk. If that fire blasted up this mountain, they’d be running for their lives.
“Cade,” she whispered. Her beautiful eyes tugged at his heart.
