Some Like It Hot: Christian romantic suspense (Summer of the Burning Sky Book 3)

by Susan May Warren

  Some Like It Hot

  Summer of the Burning Sky Book 3

  Susan May Warren

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

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  Dear Reader

  Soli Deo Gloria

  One

  He knew he didn’t deserve it, but Riley McCord wasn’t going to turn down Larke’s smile. Not when she looked at him with those sweet, pale blue-green eyes, grinning at him like he might be a bona fide hero.

  Fate seemed to like him tonight. Maybe because he’d paid a few dues when he’d saved his fellow smokejumper’s hide on the line a couple days ago. When he thrown himself into the fire to grab Skye Doyle when her drip torch malfunctioned and trapped her in a ring of death.

  So, yeah, he let himself be called a hero, and he leaned into Larke Kingston’s laughter, just barely suppressing the urge to wind an arm around her waist and pull her closer.

  Later, maybe. When he could sneak her back to Sky King ranch where he and the rest of the Jude County Smoke Jumpers were bunking—her ranch, actually—but he planned on finding a nice spot to watch the sunset, or whatever passed for that up here in Alaska, and…well, he had a few things on his mind.

  Namely, trying to forget the date. July 12. The day that always seemed to sneak up on him and leave him hollow.

  Not tonight.

  He leaned on the bar, ignoring the pain in his shoulder as he finished his story about escaping a fire his first summer as a jumper. “The team’s plane had gone down in this ravine—”

  “Looks like there’s trouble brewing.” Larke glanced over his shoulder to the front of the Midnight Sun Saloon.

  Riley turned, his gaze traveling over his team of still slightly grimy firefighters seated at a long table in the middle of the room, drinking beers, eating wings, and yelling at a rerun football game on the flatscreen overhead, and landing on seasoned jump veteran, Tucker Newman.

  Tucker had gotten off his stool in the crowded bar and was standing up to some bulky, flannel-clad local who wore a less-than-welcoming look on his face.

  Perfect. But he had Tucker’s back. They’d survived their rookie summer together—one that involved an arsonist with a vendetta against the team—and Tucker was one of the few who put up with Riley’s demons.

  So Riley moved forward, past the booth where Skye sat alone, nursing a Coke, past Seth and Romeo, jumpers from Minnesota, past Hanes and Eric, former Zulies out of Missoula, and stood just outside the rim of trouble, under a stuffed moose head.

  The place screamed Northern Exposure, with its out-of-season Christmas lights looped around rough-hewn beams overhead, the smell of greasy fries and spicy wings emanating from the kitchen.

  A few grizzly locals had stirred from their booths.

  And of course, it was about a girl. Because Tucker had a soft spot for ladies who needed rescuing. Had been just a few short steps from running into the fire after Skye, all the while screaming instructions at her to shut off the torch.

  Riley had solved that hiccup by grabbing the defective torch and hurling it into the oncoming fire.

  But Tucker was the guy who made sure that a drunk girl got home, tucked her safely into her bed, left her keys on the kitchen table, and locked the door behind her. Tucker was the good guy, the one who followed the rules.

  So, his standing up to Flannel wasn’t a huge surprise, given the pretty, petite brunette glaring at the big guy.

  And Flannel was a big guy, had let’s throw down written in his glare as Tucker held up his hand, maybe trying to deflect the inevitable. “Don’t—”

  Tucker glanced at the girl and responded with, “I just want to make sure—”

  “Nate—!” The brunette shouted just as Nate made his decision.

  Riley’s instincts cha-chinged as Nate’s punch spun Tucker around and into the bar.

  Riley was already moving. Because he’d seen the guy to Tucker’s left coming out of a nearby booth, a moose of a man who had the smokejumper in his sights.

  And well, a fight might fill the hollow spaces inside Riley just as well as what might happen with Larke.

  Behind him, the table of lit smokejumpers ignited with a roar.

  Riley tackled Moose Man around the waist, the girth not unlike Rueben’s, their sawyer who had unfortunately already walked out the door with his girlfriend, Gilly, their jump pilot. He landed on top of the man and relished the way the big guy’s breath whooshed out.

  But when Riley reared back, the man’s fist caught him on his shoulder, and with a blinding flash of heat, pain splintered through him.

  He might have landed a bit hard on that stupid shoulder when he’d tackled Skye. Now, the pain shot gray into his eyes.

  Turned him woozy.

  Long enough for the moose to land another punch cracking across his face, this time snapping his head back.

  Oh, no, he was not ending this night on the floor, bleeding from the mouth. He spun off the moose, bringing his foot around and hard into the man’s jaw.

  That’s right—

  The sound of the gunshot jerked through him, and for a second, the old man’s voice was in his head. Keep your head in the game. Focus. It’s the only way to stay on target.

  Yeah, well, he’d long ago forgotten what the target even was.

  “Stop it!” The brunette stood with her gun raised, like she might be in a movie.

  Then the bartender, a solid blonde woman who scared even Riley, put together an incredible string of blue words that had him just a little in awe. She followed by dragging up one of the skinny flannels from the floor and throwing him aside like he might be trash. “Every one of you, get out!” It seemed she looked right at Riley when she added, “Unless you’re willing to behave yourself.”

  He wanted to raise his hand, offer himself in tribute. Him. He would behave himself. Or at least he’d give it a good try.

  It never quite panned out that way.

  “Let it go, guys,” Tucker said.

  Riley glanced at the moose, who seemed willing to have another go, break a few rules. But Riley had a pretty girl waiting, thank you.

  And his shoulder really burned.

  He turned, spotted Skye standing outside her booth, as if she might dive into the fray. Oh yeah, Tucker would have been thrilled about that. But she had guts—Riley had to give her that.

  Seth, Romeo and the other guys picked up chairs, offered a few apologies.

  Riley caught Larke’s gaze on him, an unreadable expression on her face. He offered a smile, and she raised an eyebrow, reaching for a napkin as he walked over.

  “You have a little blood there, tough guy.” She pressed it against the side of his mouth, and his hand caught hers.

  “It’s nothing.” Except he could use a little ice for his shoulder, maybe.

  “You took a pretty hard shot there,” she said, reaching for his shoulder. “Want me to take a look at it?”

  He shrugged, despite the fire churning through the muscle. “Naw. Just a war wound. It’ll be fine.” He winked.

  A shadow fell through her eyes, a flicker that had him frowning. Then she gave a little giggle that sounded completely fake, and nodded.

  Huh.

  It stabbed inside him another spur of unease. Because the second he had met Larke ten days ago, he’d
wanted to see nothing but her smile, the way she flirted with him before they deployed, the suggestion that she’d be at the ranch waiting—for what, he wasn’t sure, but yes, he had a few hopes.

  In truth, Riley wanted Larke to be the kind of girl he might easily forget, someone to ease away the ache of today, the last week—honestly, this entire lousy year.

  Problem was, he could hardly get her off his brain the entire deployment—the first sign of disaster—and now that he was back, with Larke looking up at him with a smile he just wanted to devour, wearing a black tank top that showed off all her curves, with her fingers looped into the beltloops of his jeans, yeah, he was on his way to making a serious, delicious memory.

  Except…the shadow. The fact that he’d glimpsed something inside that suggested Larke had her own hollow spaces.

  And shoot, if it didn’t ignite all the protective, run-into-danger instincts that only got him into trouble.

  Riley could very easily get his heart broken if he didn’t keep this night easy, fun, and his heart at arm’s length.

  To his great relief, Larke blinked away the shadow and grinned up at him, stepping closer. “Play us a song.”

  No problem. She let him go, and he headed over to the jukebox. They had nothing in this century on the ancient music machine, but he found something he recognized and popped it on.

  Redbone. “Come and Get Your Love.” Thank you, Guardians of the Galaxy.

  He waggled his finger at her, and she sauntered over to the dance floor, put her arms around his neck. “I love this song.”

  And probably she was telling the truth because the tiny Alaskan town of Copper Mountain had the sum of one decent bar and grill, and he had no doubt she’d spun on this dance floor a few times.

  A girl with her long, white-blonde hair and laughter certainly couldn’t have been hard up for attention with all the wildlife around here.

  A couple of his cronies joined them on the dance floor, and he spotted a man—some tourist with blond hair cut behind his ears—saunter over to Skye’s table with intentions on his face. And okay, maybe Riley had a little Tucker in him because he tried not to, but did size the guy up, watching as he talked to Skye.

  Let his breath out just a smidgen when another guy dragged him away from her booth and out the door.

  Romeo took his place, reaching for her chili fries, and Riley let it go. She was safe with the rookie.

  “Dancing Queen” had come on, and he felt a little silly, so he took Larke’s hand and dragged her back to the bar. He noticed his guys leaving and glanced at her.

  “We can take my bike home,” she said, winking.

  He had to like a girl who drove a motorcycle.

  “You sure you don’t want me to look at that shoulder? You’re favoring it.”

  He was?

  “I was a medic in the army. I can spot an injured soldier who’s trying to be tough.”

  “I—” He made a face. “I fell on it a couple days ago, and I think I might have knocked it out of joint.”

  “C’mon. Let’s go back to the ranch and we’ll get some ice on it.”

  He stepped in closer. “Or, heat?”

  She laughed, pressed a hand to his chest, right over his heart. “Heat is only going to inflame it. It might make it feel better, but it’ll only make it worse.”

  Indeed.

  He really didn’t want to care.

  But, as she took his hand and led him from the bar to the parking lot, as she kicked her bike free, handed him an extra helmet, and climbed on the bike, he couldn’t escape the idea that she was right.

  No matter how good it might make him feel, the heat would probably only make it worse.

  He settled his hands on her hips, holding on as she motored him into the burning sunset.

  Apparently, tonight was not the night Larke turned the page, put the demons in the past, and became the girl who lived in the moment.

  But her plan was doomed from the start. Who knew what she was thinking really? She’d never been the type to zero in on a man and decide to hand herself over into his arms.

  Although if ever she wanted to hold onto someone, just long enough to forget, it would be Riley McCord with his soft brown eyes, tousled golden brown hair, matching ten-day beard growth long enough to run her fingertips through. He wore the build of a man used to hard work—broad, ropy shoulders, lean, strong legs, and forearms threaded with muscle. Okay, yes, she’d noticed him when he’d unloaded gear that first day he’d arrived at Sky King ranch.

  Watched the way he joked with his buddies, and it stirred inside her a flicker of forbidden interest.

  He was Lt. Freeman Stone all over again. And maybe that was the problem.

  No, it was definitely the problem, because she clearly had a type.

  Confirmed by the way Riley dove into a fight even before it started. She’d stood there, watching, blinking back memories, and doing an adequate job of acting just fine until he had to mention war wounds.

  Her face must have betrayed a momentary panic. Right then he’d frowned, as if seeing past her smile, her flirting, right down to her core.

  To the blood and screams and weeping.

  Except maybe she could still resurrect this evening. Riley hadn’t exactly turned down her offer to take a look at his shoulder. He sat behind her, his hands on her hips, her body nestled into the pocket of his legs, leaning with her as she drove her brother’s bike along the dirt road that led back to Sky King ranch.

  Dodge would be so furious with her if he knew she’d taken out his Triumph Tiger to lure home a man. But Dodge and her other two bossy younger brothers weren’t here to give her grief, thank you, and truth was, if they were, well maybe she wouldn’t be trapped here, helping her dad keep the bush flight service open.

  She was sick of catering to fishermen and hunters, cleaning cabins, fish, and making beer runs for wealthy sportsmen from the Lower 48. She had her own dreams, her own life, her own…

  Okay, fears.

  Not tonight. She gunned the bike as they neared the ranch nestled in the pocket of the foothills of Denali. A red-hued sun hung just over the white-capped granite mountains, dragging blood-red shadows across the lake that edged their property, over one hundred acres of prime Alaska real estate. And the Kingston family’s hand-built log cabin sat in the middle of it, an expansive lodge with a two-story great room window that faced the national forest and all its glory to the north.

  Okay, it might be a view she never tired of. A view that had called her home in a weak moment.

  She drove past the house. Her father’s truck sat in the drive, and beyond that, in the grass strip behind the house, was parked the bright yellow DHC-3 Otter, the back seats removed for the jump crew.

  A few of the smokejumpers her father had agreed to house sat on the deck of the lodge. The only woman, Skye, sat staring out at the sunset, looking a little shell shocked.

  Larke recognized the look.

  Tiny cabins nestled near the lake, where the floatplane bobbed, tied to the dock.

  She slowed, then followed the rutted road that led down the ridge and around to the far western edge of the lake.

  The original homestead was now her private cabin.

  It sat below the ridge in a pocket of land rimmed by the lake to the east and a pine forest to the north.

  Just far enough away to be on her own, close enough to feel safe.

  She pulled up near the tiny barn next to the homestead that housed her truck, then propped up the bike as Riley got off.

  After stowing their helmets in the seat, she held out her hand.

  He grinned at her and slid his into hers. Big. Warm. Calloused.

  She headed down the path toward the house.

  “Where are we going?” Riley asked.

  She debated a moment and wondered if she had the courage to…

  Nope, probably not. “To watch the sunset,” she said. “But I’m going to get you some ice first.”

  His hand tightene
d in hers. “I don’t need ice,” he said, a little husk to his voice.

  She laughed, and it sounded nervous.

  Perfect.

  And shoot, Riley must have noticed because he slowed his steps all the way to a stop. Turned to her. “You okay?”

  Aw. She forced a smile but had to look away from those brown eyes.

  Oh, she knew how to pick them—always the kind who could peel away her pretense and now…was she crying?

  Good freakin’ grief. She took a breath and tore her hand from his. “Let’s get that ice.”

  She practically ran down to her cabin, Riley’s steps fast, then slowing behind her.

  She left him on the porch as she grabbed an ice pack from her freezer. Came out to find him sitting in the grass, staring west as the fire lit the sky.

  “Nice place.”

  “It was my grandparents’. It was pretty rough inside when I started, but it’s nice now. New kitchen, stacked stone fireplace, refinished flooring. I put in a skylight upstairs so I could watch the stars in the winter.” And now she was blathering. Poor man. She should have just dropped him off at the lodge.

  She sat down next to him in the grass and handed him the gel pack. “Put this on your shoulder.”

  He took it and held it to his left shoulder and nodded toward the house. “You did all that?”

  “I had help.”

  “Boyfriend?”

  “Dad. When I came home, I just…I didn’t want to live at the lodge. My grandmother lived here until I was twelve. I’d come down here to get away from my brothers. When I got back, it seemed like the right place to live. Clear my head.”

  Keep others from hearing her nightmares.

  And now she’d probably told him too much because he was quiet a long time. Finally, “The sun never really sets, does it?”

  Oh. Um, “No, it doesn’t set. Not in the summer. It can sometimes get dark in the forest, with the shadows, but really, it’s all sun, all the time.”