Taylor nodded. “I’m going to answer all his damn questions—again—and hopefully he’ll leave Tyler alone.”
“Because Tyler was the one who spoke to Travis.”
Tyler shifted. “Actually, it was Trent.”
I frowned. Without having met them, it was hard to keep the brothers straight. “Which one is he again?”
For some reason, that brought a smile to Tyler’s face. “Second youngest.”
“Oh yeah,” I said. “The tattoo artist. It makes sense why you’re both covered.”
“We all are,” Taylor said. “Except Thomas. I have to get on the road. I’m going to try to get there first. Maybe get Trexler’s third degree out of the way before we go back to work.”
“Something seemed … off about him,” I said. “Watch yourself.”
Taylor winked at me. “I got this, Ellie. Don’t worry about me. Ever since I found out we were going to Colorado Springs … I dunno. I’ve had a good feeling about it.”
“You just like that damned cowboy bar down there,” Tyler said.
Taylor arched an eyebrow. “Colorado Springs has a considerably higher percentage of attractive women, and most of them hang out at that bar.”
Tyler rolled his eyes. “They’re looking for fly boys. The Air Force base is there.”
“Yes, but it’s me we’re talking about,” Taylor said, pushing off from my armoire. He bent down to grab his duffel bag, and then slung the strap over his shoulder. “I’m out, dick head.”
Tyler stood up, hugging his brother. It wasn’t a side hug or a hand-shake-slash-shoulder-bump. Taylor and Tyler wrapped their arms around each other and squeezed. The customary hard slapping on the back followed, but they were a sweet sight.
Taylor’s keys jingled in his hand as he rounded the corner. The front door opened and slammed, and Tyler sighed.
“You’re going to miss him.”
He sat down on my bed again, leaning over and lacing his fingers together. “It’s kind of a pussy thing to say, but Taylor and I haven’t been apart a lot. It feels weird.”
“Understandable. The twin thing.”
“I’m just glad he’s not going to Australia with Jew.”
“Australia?”
“Yeah, we switch out. A couple of our guys go over there for a season to learn their way of doing things, and we get a couple of their guys to see how we do it.”
“So those are the Aussies we’re waiting on? Isn’t that going to mess with your groove or whatever to get two new guys?”
“The Aussies are machines. They always come here to work. We’re dragging ass to headquarters, and they’re antsy, wishing for the next call. What?”
“I don’t know … I feel irrationally betrayed.”
Tyler wrinkled his nose. “You feel what?”
“You should have told me. One minute I’m the big sister making grilled cheese, the next I’m left out of the loop.”
Tyler thought about that. “Wow, I’m sorry. You just fit in so well I forget you don’t already know this stuff.”
“I suppose I can forgive you.” I sat up, running my hand over my face. “Oh my God.”
“What?”
“My mouth. It tastes like a trashcan.” I stood, opening the armoire to grab my toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste before rushing to the bathroom. After spitting the suds into the sink, I rinsed and grabbed a towel. My sinuses felt congested, so I grabbed a tissue.
“Oh my God!” I said again.
Tyler jogged across the barracks, stopping in the doorway. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m dying,” I said, blowing my nose again. “My insides are rotting.”
“Black in the tissue?” Tyler asked.
I nodded.
He chuckled. “That’s normal. When fire season is over, you’ll still be doing that for weeks. It’s from the smoke and ash.”
“Isn’t that … I don’t know … unhealthy?”
Tyler made a face. “You smoke, Ellie.”
“So do you,” I snapped.
“But I’m not whining about the hazards of inhaling wood smoke. We’re sucking a lot worse every time we light up.”
“But I don’t blow charcoal out of my nose after I smoke.”
Tyler shrugged. “So wear a filter mask next time.”
“Maybe I will.”
“Good. Are we going into town or what?”
I shook my head and shifted, holding up one foot off the cold floor. “I can’t right now. I have to get my notes emailed to Jojo.”
“I don’t know why you don’t just write it yourself. She used most of your manuscript for the magazine. She didn’t even credit herself.”
I smiled, filling my hand with water and rinsing out the sink. “That was pretty cool. I thought it was crap, but she cleaned it up a little bit and called it good.”
“Chief said he’s gotten a lot of phone calls about the story. The brass like the positive press it’s brought to the crew.”
“It didn’t get picked up by the AP like Wick had hoped.”
“Yet,” Tyler said as I turned off the faucet. “So you’re going to work?”
“Yeah … go ahead.”
“Nah, I’ll wait. It’s kinda nice being alone with you.”
I fetched my laptop, and then sat with Tyler in the TV room. He lifted the remote and turned on the television, keeping the volume down while I typed. The process was a bit easier this time, matching numbered photos to corresponding accounts.
Not quite an hour after we’d sat down, Tyler reached down and lifted my legs, lowering them over his lap. He settled back against the sofa cushions, looking sleepy but content.
“Hungry?” I asked, clicking SEND.
“All done?” Tyler said, watching me close my laptop.
“Yes. Finished. Let’s eat.”
We rode into town in Tyler’s truck, his ridiculously loud exhaust pipes announcing to everyone within a three-mile radius that we were back. He stopped in a small café I’d never been to, but where he seemed to be familiar.
The waitress looked both surprised and overly enthusiastic about seeing him, but Tyler didn’t seem to notice.
“Uh, just waters for now. You want OJ, Ellie?” Tyler asked, still reading over the menu.
“Yes, please,” I said.
“Two,” Tyler said, holding up his index and middle finger. When the waitress left, he lowered his index finger, leaving me a charming gesture for a few seconds before putting it away.
“Back atcha,” I grumbled. I pretended to be annoyed, but it was hard to stay mad at him when his dimple was working its magic.
“Orange juice. Two,” the waitress said, setting down two glasses. “Who’s this, Tyler?”
She was smiling when she asked the question, but a familiar glint was in her eye. She took in my clothes, my hair, even my jagged fingernails and chipped polish, wondering what it was about me that had enticed Tyler Maddox enough to buy me breakfast.
“This is Ellison,” Tyler said, the grin on his face breaking out into a full-blown smile.
“Ellison?” the waitress asked. “Edson?”
I cringed, wondering which story she’d heard and how satisfying to her it would be to realize I wasn’t competition after all.
“Yes?” I said, trying to meet her condescending gaze. Life was a collection of stories, and I couldn’t let her judge me for a few chapters.
“You know my cousin, Paige. She talks about you a lot.”
“Oh. Yeah. Tell her I said hi,” I said, surprised at how relieved I was.
“Hi? That’s it?” the waitress said, her voice tinged with disdain.
“Emily, c’mon. Can we order?” Tyler said, impatient.
Emily pulled out her pad and pen, her lips pursed.
“The waffles,” Tyler said.
“Peanut butter and whip with warm maple?” she asked.
“Yep,” Tyler said.
Emily looked to me.
“Oh, uh … I’ll have two eggs,
over medium, and bacon. Burned.”
“Burned?” Emily asked.
“Crispy fried.”
She shook her head. “I’ll tell the cook. Anything else?”
“That’s it,” I said. Emily walked away, and I leaned against the table. “She’s going to spit in my food.”
“Do you know her?” Tyler asked.
“No. I’m not sure if she hates me because of something she thinks I did to Paige, or because I’m with you.”
“Maybe both. Girls are weird that way.”
“Oh my fuck, Tyler. Could you be more of a misogynist?”
“Am I wrong?”
“About what? I’m not even sure I know what you meant.”
“But you knew enough to be offended.”
“I hate you today.”
“I can tell,” he said. “I would say you need a drink, but…”
“No. My luck, we’d get called to a political fire, and I’d be puking my guts out.”
Tyler smiled at the jargon. A political fire was anything big enough to make CNN, something everyone was dispatched to, and the only reason I would ever know that was by living with the twenty-man crew who would be sent to one.
“I didn’t realize you knew that term,” Tyler said.
“I sort of have to pay attention for my job.”
“You’re really good at it, Ellie. I’m glad Jojo gave you a raise, but I saw on the Internet the other day that they’re paying photographers six figures a year to shoot pics of national forests.”
“Really?”
“I was looking into National Geographic, too. That seems a little harder to get into, but not impossible.”
I arched an eyebrow. “You trying to get rid of me, hotshot?”
“No fucking way. Not even a little bit.”
We looked at each other for a moment in a silent exchange. We had an understanding that I needed, and Tyler was satisfied with whatever it was that we were doing. Part of me wanted to thank him for not pushing, but that would defeat the purpose of our rule to avoid labels, or really to even discuss the nature of our relationship—if it could even be called that.
Emily returned with our plates, interrupting our little staring contest. “Waffles. Eggs,” she said, turning around before Tyler could ask for a refill.
“Okay, then. Not sure what you did to Paige, but her cousin is pissed about it.”
“I honestly don’t know this time.”
“Weren’t you two, uh…”
“No. As a matter of fact, I was very clear. Many times.”
“Many times, huh?”
“Shut up.”
Tyler chuckled, finishing his waffle. He paid, and we walked downtown, stopping into various shops. It was strange to see something I liked and not buy it. I found myself looking at price tags for the first time, and once, when I came across an exceptionally soft black turtleneck, calculating my bank balance and upcoming bills in my head to see if I had the extra cash to spend. I didn’t.
I walked around the store, peeking at Tyler through the shelving. He had a few items in his hands, so I waited for him to check out, and then we popped into a candy store. We spent the day walking around, talking about the crew, a lot of playful bickering, trading family stories, and trying to one-up each other on what shocking illegal activities we’d participated in.
I won.
The day wore away, and as the sun ducked behind the green mountaintops, I felt myself already mourning The Day Tyler and I Did Nothing. Wandering aimlessly in downtown Estes was one of my best days.
After a light dinner, Tyler and I walked down the block toward a familiar alley. He casually reached for my hand, at first swinging our arms, and then gently squeezing my fingers when he realized I wasn’t going to pull away. He was wearing jeans, black boots, and a short-sleeved white T-shirt with something about a motorcycle in black ink. It went well the tattoos covering his arms, and I smiled when I thought about the reaction my parents would have if they saw us.
“What do you think? Want to share a Shirley Temple?”
“I thought you said you were tired of the bar scene.”
“We don’t have to go. I don’t want to encourage old habits.”
I pulled my hand away. “I’m not an alcoholic, Tyler. I can be around liquor without drinking.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You don’t believe me.”
“I didn’t say that, either.”
I squeezed his hand, tugging him forward. He resisted for the first few steps, and then gave in. A woman pushed through the door, her heels clicking down the concrete the same way we’d come. Her ankle rolled, and she nearly fell but regained her balance, grumbling curse words until she turned the corner.
Tyler pulled back as I reached for the door with my free hand. I stumbled backward, leaning against him before pushing him away.
“I was kidding, Ellie,” Tyler blurted out. “I don’t think we should go in there. We can find something else to do.”
“At ten o’clock in this town? We go in here, or we go back to headquarters,” I said, pointing at the door. Its chipped black paint was the perfect prologue to what awaited us inside.
I reached for the door again, but Tyler resisted. Just as I began a scathing review of his reluctance, he touched my cheek, looking down on me with concern in his eyes. “Ellie.”
I turned my face away from his touch. My new job and my new life were due to my stubborn pride. Not even being disowned by my parents could make me get my shit straight. My luck was better when I made my own decisions apart from external influences, but I found myself wanting to do things just to make Tyler happy—the sort of stupid, vapid shit Finley did when she liked a guy—things that definitely weren’t me. But then again, I wasn’t sure who I was anymore. Maybe Ellie two-point-oh would skip the bar to play it safe and hide from temptations at headquarters.
I frowned. “C’mon. O’Doul’s, mocktails, and people watching. We can laugh really loud like we’re drunk and slap the table a lot. No one will ever know.”
Tyler was still unconvinced, but I pulled him through the door anyway. A small group of barely legal women sat at a table by the door. A few couples were at the end of the bar near the bathrooms, and a few older local men were peppered across the bar stools. Tyler pointed to the table we had sat at when I was here with Finley and Sterling. The thought of Sterling made my skin crawl. He hadn’t intended to fuck me any more than I’d meant to be fucked when I went to his house that day, but Sterling was the embodiment of rock bottom for me, and I was okay with never seeing him again.
“Hey, you okay?” Tyler asked, sitting next to me. He patted my thigh, bringing me back to the present. I both loved and loathed when he touched me like we were that familiar, as if I belonged to him. Tyler was my new addiction, like flirting with fire on the mountain, loving the danger and waiting for the burn.
“Yeah, why?”
“You just look a little uncomfortable.”
“A couple of O’Doul’s and I’ll be fine.”
Tyler smirked. “Good luck getting some liquid courage with non-alcoholic beer.” He stood, leaving me alone to order at the bar.
I picked at the last bits of polish left on my nails. Finley had always been the one to make sure I had a regular manicure, even if she had to make an appointment from the other side of the country, but now that I couldn’t afford one, I sort of missed it.
My phone buzzed in my back pocket, and I pulled it out, seeing Finley’s silly, beautiful face. I pressed the red button for the second time that day and put my phone away.
“You’re looking awfully forlorn,” Tyler said, setting a bottle on the table in front of me. “Here. Drink up. Annie told me that Wick had already warned her that if we came in together to remind me not to get kicked out.”
“What an asshole. He ruined our entire night.”
Tyler breathed out a laugh. “That’s exactly what I said.”
“Really?” I
asked, dubious. Tyler nodded. “We are spending way too much time together.”
“I was just thinking we needed more days like today.”
“Tyler…”
“Don’t say it. I know.”
“Ellie?” a high-pitched voice called from across the room. “Oh my God! Ellie!”
I turned to see Paige weaving through tables to get to mine. She bent down and threw her arms around me. Her blue hair was now fuchsia, and she was beautiful as ever. Her tiny features remained soft as she smiled sweetly at me. She was still searching for someone, wearing a cropped tank top and frayed denim shorts to display her tattoos. Her right arm, the blank canvas, was now marked with black lace serving as leaves to a coral-colored rose.
“That’s new,” I said.
She grinned and then pointed to her nose. “So is this.”
I frowned, unable to ignore the thought that Paige was changing too much, too fast. She was already drunk, her eyes were bloodshot, and purple circles darkened the thin skin beneath her lower lashes. She wasn’t more than twenty-two or -three, but already tired of the bullshit life kept throwing at her. We were going in opposite directions, and I wondered if I’d been the last straw. Finley had always said that I ruined people, and I could see the turns Paige was taking, all downhill.
“I’m so glad to see you,” she said, a new nose ring shimmering as it reflected the multi-colored lights above. “I went to your house. José said you took a job and moved out.”
“True.”
“Where? New York City? L.A.?”
“The Rocky Mountain Alpine Hotshot barracks, actually.”
Paige turned her head like a confused puppy. “The what?”
“I’m a photographer for The MountainEar. I’m following the hotshots this summer.”
Paige giggled and nudged my arm. “Seriously. Where did you move to?” Her eyes bounced between Tyler and me, and then recognition lit her expression. “So you’re … living together?”
“Not exactly,” Tyler said. “Unless we say we’re also living with nineteen other guys.”
Paige tightened her bottom lip, but then she tried to relax, forcing a smile. “You couldn’t call?”
“I don’t have your number,” I said.
“Really? I thought I gave it to you.” I shook my head, and she blinked. “Well, I can give it to you now. Where’s your phone?”
Beautiful Burn (Maddox Brothers #4) Page 15
