Embracing the Quiet Night: A Missoula Smokejumper's Christmas (Missoula Smokejumpers Book 1)

by Piper Stone

  Makeup and hair. As if those two items mattered in the scheme of life. She fought tears as she was led inside, jumping when the door to the set was closed. “Tanya, I need a favor.”

  “Anything. Just ask.”

  “I need to put together a present, a very special gift.” One that will beg for forgiveness.

  “For your hot guy?” Tanya grinned.

  “Yeah. I’m trying to make certain he doesn’t leave me.” She could hear a slight gasp and wasn’t entirely certain if she’d made the noise or Tanya.

  “I have the perfect store in mind.”

  Jessica twirled her finger in her hair, trying her best to push away her tears, yet a wave of anxiety turned into nausea. No purchased present would eradicate the situation, but she did have one idea. Please God, let this work.

  “There you are!” Shannon Miller exclaimed as she tapped the top of the bar.

  Stoker grinned and turned in a circle, excitement surging through his entire being. The work at the lot had been out of bounds, even forcing the smokejumpers to cut additional trees. At least the concept had been met with good words from Captain Phillips. At this rate, they’d sell out before the twentieth of the month. The place was rockin’. Christmas music continually played, very tacky lights and decorations covered every possible inch surrounding the facility and some of his fellow team members had been known to hand out a hot chocolate or two. This was one of the best decisions he’d made.

  “The man is a slave driver,” Riker huffed.

  “I didn’t see you complaining when you had that Santa hat on earlier tonight,” Stoker shot back.

  “Ooh!” Several of the bar customers teased.

  Shannon smiled. “Then I think beers all around. Where’s Cooper and Tyler?”

  “Boy wonder here had some things to do so they closed up tonight,” Garcia offered.

  Stoker noticed a box located right beside the front door. As owner of the bar, Shannon had certainly grasped onto the charity event with vengeance. “I had a few things to do. Sue me. I’m here.” The glitch in his voice was distinctive.

  “And with bells on, I see,” Garcia snarked as he strutted closer. “We were getting worried about you.”

  “Like I said. I had a few things to do,” Stoker said, heat cruising up from his neck. The last few days he’d spent shopping. The perfect tree was in the stand, new lights and a few adorable ornaments purchased. Even MacGyver had given his paw of approval. The very special gift was under the tree, lying on the two yards of red velvet he’d grabbed from a fabric store. Everything was awaiting Jessica’s return.

  “Jessica!” Landen winked as he lifted his beer. “You two are almost sick together, ya know.”

  “Ooh la la!” Antonio added.

  “Very funny, gentlemen. How are things with the charity drive?” Stoker asked, approaching the bar.

  Shannon leaned over and slid a beer across the bar. “Better than you asked for. The moment I put the word out, I had phone calls. Even the local television station is going to cover the event at some point. I have a storage room full of toys and food for the family. I’m shocked at how much support you’ve gotten over the last few days.”

  “Thank you so much for your help.” Stoker lifted his beer. “I do want to keep some of this a surprise from Mr. Michaels. He’s full of pride. You know?”

  She placed her hand on his arm. “I know. What you’re doing here is amazing. We’ll keep this as quiet as possible. Just remember, Jessica loves you because of the man you are.”

  Stoker nodded as he scanned the room. Everyone was having a good time. “You’re a damn good friend.” She’d wrangled the information about the argument from him on night two. Shannon had a way about her that was undeniable.

  Blushing, she kept her smile. “I’m glad to be a part of this. The time was right with the recent fires. So many people need a helping hand. Does a soul good. You know?”

  “Yeah, actually I do.”

  “Jessica will be so proud.”

  Stoker shook his head. “If she ever talks to me again.”

  She raised a single eyebrow. “Give her a little bit more credit than that. I know her pretty damn well by now. She’s pining away for you. Trust me.”

  “Did you look in the box over there? There must be hundreds of cans of food,” Sawyer said as he moved closer.

  “There’s enough that we’re going to have to find a second location to keep everything,” Shannon stated as she locked eyes with every smokejumper that was close, her grin turning mischievous.”

  “I feel a nightmare coming on,” Antonio groaned.

  “Well, Mr. Big Shot Smokejumper, how about keeping some of the boxes of food at the hanger?” Shannon handed him a beer, then yanked the bottle back as she swayed her hips back and forth.

  “She’s such a ballbuster,” Riker commented.

  “Why we love her. Excellent idea,” Garcia added then moved away from Antonio’s reach. “Just sayin’!”

  Antonio exhaled, the sound exaggerated. “Fine. Have to clear it with the captain, but I’m certain he won’t mind. Now, give me that beer.”

  “Comin’ up, boys.” Shannon motioned to her bartender.

  Stoker stood quietly, sucking on his beer and watching highlights of some football game on the oversized television. Tomorrow. She was coming home tomorrow.

  “You look like a kid in a candy store, well one that’s been crying for days on end.” Riker approached.

  “I guess. A lot on my mind.” He eyed the larger man. “Look, about the other day.”

  “No need to apologize. You have a family on your mind, a beautiful fiancée.” Riker turned to face him. “Take a small piece of advice. Times like this, holidays, they are special. You can never go back. I learned the hard way just how precious they can be when they’re stripped away from you.”

  He knew the life Riker had led, even though the man never talked about his past or his significant loss. “I hear ya.”

  “I really hope you do.”

  “Hey, isn’t that Jessica on television?” Landen pointed toward the area over the bar.

  Stoker moved closer.

  “Look at that! She’s a star. Hey, Shannon, turn that up!” Garcia chortled.

  His heart racing, Stoker crowded the edge of the bar, shutting out everything and everyone around him but the sound of her voice.

  “We’re very lucky to have the lovely and talented Jessica Dunn with us today. She’s in town preparing for her upcoming CD and with a new band I hear. Tell all the fans out there. Why did you change from rock and roll to country?” The man’s voice was practiced, with just the right amount of excitement.

  Jessica looked straight at the camera and smiled.

  “Woo-hoo!” Several of the customers called.

  “Our girl. Look at her!” Landen said as he inched closer to Stoker.

  “She looks amazing,” Garcia said, the words scattered.

  “Quiet,” Stoker managed.

  “I had an amazing inspiration,” Jessica said. “Not only a beautiful town, Missoula, Montana but a particular and very special man.”

  “Aww!” The collective gasp was loud.

  Garcia wrapped his arm around Stoker’s shoulder. “Told you.”

  “Well, from what I’ve heard, you’ve certainly made the right choice,” the interviewer continued.

  Stoker realized he was holding his breath as she continued to answer questions, her long fingers fiddling with her hair, a sheer sign of her nervousness. He bit back a smile as his cock twitched. Tomorrow would be a special day.

  “Just one more question. I understand you’ve lengthened your stay, can you tell your fans where you’re going to be?”

  He heard the question, knew what the implications meant, but Stoker refused to believe she wouldn’t have called him.

  “Yes, I’ll be here through the twenty-second and you can find out where I might be appearing on my website.” Jessica’s smile had faded.

  “Oh, shit,
” Garcia said under his breath, his arm slipping from around Stoker.

  Antonio sighed and shot Stoker a look. “Business, man. Nothing more.”

  “Yeah, you heard it. Just a few days longer,” Landen huffed.

  Stoker blinked several times, his emotions all over the place. He grabbed his phone from his pocket, glaring at the screen. No calls. Zero voice mails. Snuffing, he took a long pull on his beer until he was ready to choke on the liquid.

  “There’s a reason. You know that.” Garcia nodded several times. “There has to be.”

  When he’d finished the beer, he pulled out a five-dollar bill, slapping both on the counter. Then he turned and walked through the crowd.

  “Where are you going?” Garcia caught up with him.

  “Home. I have no reason to celebrate.”

  “Come on. Give her a call.”

  “Not gonna happen,” he huffed as he slapped his hand on the front door. He stopped and twisted his head. “She wanted no contact, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.”

  “Stoker!”

  Refusing to listen, he stormed into the parking lot and toward his truck. He needed time alone, to think. He tossed his phone into the seat then jumped into the cab, slamming the door. Every part of him was shaking.

  Wham!

  Stars floated in front of his eyes as he slapped the steering wheel. A lump remained in his throat. Roaring the engine to life, he controlled his breathing and sped out of the parking lot. The moment he passed by the Christmas tree lot, his cell phone rang. One look gave him shivers. Jessica. He held the phone, darting glances between the screen and the road then slowly pressed the button, sending the call to voicemail. Nothing was going to help the situation any longer.

  At some point, he was going to have to face facts. He wasn’t good for her or her career. His anger as well as his selfish needs would hold her back. This wasn’t fair to her at all. She deserved happiness and complete support, not a broken man. He snorted as he continued the drive. They’d share the holiday together, no matter how little or how much time. Then he’d break it off.

  As he pulled up the long gravel driveway, his stomach twisted into knots. He cut the engine, every move with weighted hands, and stepped outside. He had a couple official days off to get his shit together. Working at the lot should help improve his attitude. Hearing MacGyver whining behind the door, waiting for his daddy dog to come home at least gave him a smile. He loved the cabin, his horses and his beloved Golden Retriever. While the place wasn’t that big, the land he owned was close to the mountains, and more importantly, the river, the place where dreams were made.

  The wedding was supposed to have been at the ranch. Well, at least the after party. Groaning he opened the door, bursting into laughter when Mac bounded out, his gorgeous tail wagging as he barked and jumped then ran off the front porch and toward the woods. No doubt searching for Jessica. The poor pup hadn’t been himself since she’d left. He leaned against the railing, shoving his hands into his pockets. A city girl, a metal music lover and one fine musician herself had found her way into his home town. Like a beautiful bird, full of life and ready to explore the world. Why in the hell did he think he could keep her in a gilded cage?

  Stoker closed his eyes and inhaled. The weather pattern had shifted, promising at least some snow in the forecast every day for a solid two weeks. The fresh snow was just enough to cover the trees, creating an almost luminescent appearance. This was his favorite time of year. Fire season was over, the world of the smokejumpers usually at peace with very few calls. The months allowed time to rekindle relationships, relax and rebuild, even spending time by a fire of his own making, enjoying life. “Christ.” The single word spoken seemed to drop in the dense air the moment he opened his mouth. “Come on, buddy. She’s not coming home right now. Let’s go inside.”

  He tore off his coat, tossing his phone onto the coffee table. He would try and call her later. No, maybe he wouldn’t. At least he could listen to her message, if she’d left one. “Let me get you some food, buddy, before I smash my head into a wall.”

  After Mac was settled, he rekindled the remaining embers in the stone fireplace, remembering the first time Jessica had come inside, finding his prized guitar. He noticed at that moment that she’d taken the instrument with her. She never allowed the guitar to go on a road trip, fearful of damage. Why this particular trip?

  The answer was simple enough. The series of meetings were more important than anything. He walked toward the metal stand, the piece having been in the same corner since Cooper had given him the guitar so many years before. Years before he’d gone to Afghanistan. A time when he and Cooper had been like blood brothers, never far from each other’s side. The war, injury, and captivity had taken a toll on their lives as well as their friendship.

  Jessica, the feisty woman with a take no shit attitude had refused to allow them to continue squabbling. They were close once again, Cooper now serving as a trainer for the Jackals. Hearing a noise, he bristled and for a few seconds, he envisioned Jessica behind him, a happy look as she surprised him.

  “I thought I’d find you here.”

  “Don’t you ever knock?” Stoker shook his head and smirked. Talk about karma or the Devil. Cooper always knew when he was in a piss poor mood.

  Woof! Woof!

  “Hey, your door was unlocked. Could have been a burglar. Hey, Mac.”

  “Traitor!” Stoker teased as he turned around.

  “Such a good little boy, even though your daddy is such a pain in the ass.” Cooper rubbed Mac’s ears before lumbering forward.

  Cooper’s missing leg would always be a reminder of things lost. Stoker sucked in his breath. “I suppose you heard.”

  “You got a beer or two?”

  “I can arrange that.” This would be the ‘talk’ or what he liked to call an intervention. Only Cooper knew how to talk him down from the rafters.

  “Good, ’cause—”

  “I know,” Stoker interrupted as he walked toward the kitchen. “We need to talk.”

  “You bet your sweet ass, lughead.”

  He chuckled as he pulled out two beers, popping the tops, then noticed Cooper standing in front of the tree.

  “Sad looking thing. Seen better trees in the garbage.”

  “Don’t you dare make fun of my tree. First one in years.” He walked back into the living room, handing off a cold one. They stood in front of the tree. “Waiting for Jessica to return. She’s fussy about decorating.”

  “Jessica is the least fussy woman I’ve ever meet. You want to share this with her.”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  Cooper exhaled and headed toward the couch. “Then wait. Whatever day she comes home, this will be special for both of you.”

  “What if she doesn’t care?”

  “You sound like a ten-year-old. Time for you to grow up, suck it up and enjoy life. Damn, boy.”

  Stoker leaned against the mantel. Reaching up, he fingered the single picture she’d framed of the two of them.

  “She’s beautiful and stupid for loving you.”

  He thrust out his arm, giving his friend his middle finger. “You are a riot, my man.”

  “I’m here to remind you that she does love you and you love her.”

  “Of course, I love her,” Stoker whispered. “But I’m not good for her. This, isn’t good for her.”

  “Okay, let me play devil’s advocate here. Jessica had nothing when she came here. Right?”

  “Yeah.” Even her house was being foreclosed on.

  Cooper patted the couch until Mac jumped up, settling into his lap. “No band. No money and a one-way ticket to Missoula, Montana of all places.”

  This time, Stoker merely shrugged.

  “In the course of about a month, she found the love of her life, a country music career including a big deal recording contract, a rustic home and a new set of friends. Did I miss anything?”

  “MacGyver.” He teased.

  �
�Yes, and an amazing dog. Much better than his daddy, I might add.” Cooper grinned. “So, you tell me here, why wouldn’t she come back?”

  “I dunno.”

  “I dunno? Damn, you need to hear yourself sometimes. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You have an amazing life together, one most people would give anything to have. Only you can fuck this up.”

  The words were said with care and very much the truth. Hearing his buddy say them hit home, kicking him in his gut. “You’re right. I’m not going to let that happen.”

  “There’s the spirit. The crazed smokejumper I know and love.” Cooper raised his beer before taking a sip. “I will make you a promise. If you fuck this up, the woman is all mine.”

  “Touch her and I remove the other leg.” Stoker broke into a smile. Both men laughed, and he headed to the overstuffed chair, easing down. “That the only reason you’re here, to kick my sorry ass?”

  “That’s the enjoyable part.”

  He noticed the flash in his buddy’s eyes. “What is it?”

  “There’s a couple fires in Wyoming and parts of Idaho. They are rollin’.”

  “Now?”

  “Yeah.” Stoker shifted Mac until he could ease onto the edge. “Tyler’s been following the weather as well as the recent outbreaks. With the dry summer and fall, even with the dropped foliage, this damn windy period has sparked a bunch of firebrands.”

  “Shit! More than the firefighters can handle?” When large embers as well as chunks of debris became airborne, they could spark new fires even miles away. The situation could turn deadly within seconds.

  Cooper moved the beer bottle from hand to hand. “Maybe. I don’t need to tell you that there’s a lot of jumpers on vacation this time of year. No need to keep them settled down.”

  “Normally.”

  He nodded. “I have a bad feeling about this. I don’t know why, but my gut is churning.”

  “When your gut churns, we should all be afraid.” Stoker tilted his head until he could see the falling snow. Even a raging snowstorm wouldn’t stop a firestorm, especially if several fires connected together.

  “This I will tell you. If the fire jumps state lines, heading for Billings, we’ll have no choice but to go in.”