Tequila

by Rebecca Sharp

I hoped discussing the storm would be enough of a distraction.

  Her eyes narrowed and heat spread to her cheeks. “Look, Logan,” she began with a hard, commanding tone—one it seemed she’d used to discipline before. “If I want to tell you—”

  “I don’t hold anything against you,” I growled, all kinds of frustration pumping through my veins. “Just let it go, Bae—”

  “My name’s not Bae,” she snapped, setting her glass on the granite countertop with just enough force to make a point.

  I froze.

  Well, that had my attention.

  She crossed her arms over her chest, my shock allowing my gaze to break from its cage of propriety and flick down to where her generous tits pressed against the fabric of my shirt.

  She was still cold. Or turned on.

  Fuck.

  “Excuse me?” I said through clenched teeth.

  “Bae… is my call sign,” she told me, pausing to drag in a pained breath, and I wondered what could be worse than telling me the woman who’d been my one-night Cinderella hadn’t even given me her real name. “My actual name is Shay Covington.” She winced slightly. “Captain Shay Covington, and I’m a fighter pilot in the US Air Force.”

  Jesus fucking Christ.

  I reached out and gripped the edge of the counter, feeling as though she’d just shot ten-thousand volts straight to my heart.

  Bae. Shay.

  Air Force pilot.

  “The night we met, I’d just graduated from the Academy, and the following day, I left to start my pilot training.” The forcefulness in her words died down.

  My head spun—like I was the one in a plane that was spiraling out of control, my body just waiting for the deadly crash.

  Her patience with my silence was thinly veiled the way her finger tapped against her arm and her pulse thrummed against the side of her neck. Still, she held her words back with regimented composure.

  “I see,” I said with a strained voice.

  “That’s it?”

  My mouth thinned. I needed space. Space to process the gorgeous ghost from my past was real and staying in my house. Space to process that the woman I thought I knew hadn’t even given me her real name, let alone a goodbye.

  “Well, whatever your name is, I’d use the land line to call anyone you need. Cable is out and cell service is already limited. I’m going to shower and then I’ll take the couch; this storm isn’t going to let up anytime soon.”

  I turned and stalked toward the bathroom, shutting the door behind me before she could say anything else.

  It was harsh. But I was hurt.

  But what in the ever-loving-fuck?

  An Air Force pilot.

  I flung the shower on, spinning the knob to ice cold, hoping to freeze out the anger running through my blood.

  The thing that pissed me off the most was that I was so affected—so damn hurt by it. What most would just chalk up to a semi-one-night-stand, I couldn’t let go of.

  One tequila. One dance. One kiss. One night. They’d all worked their way into the one part of my heart that was holding onto them for dear life, begging to turn them into more.

  But more wasn’t going to happen.

  She was only here because of the storm—because it was an emergency.

  No one in Estes Park was prepared for this kind of flooding, but once it was gone, she would be, too. And I wasn’t going to be left blind-sided once again.

  The cold water beat many realities into my skin as it washed away the dirt.

  This was the kind of storm that would change lives.

  This was the kind of storm that could change my life.

  This was the kind of storm that would change everything if I wasn’t careful.

  The phone ringing at six am had drawn me from the luxurious king bed, though I was already awake, replaying the final moments of last night over and over again in my mind.

  Logan Daniels seemed almost as disappointed in hearing my name as I was.

  Ironically, the only upside to the situation was the name hadn’t rung a bell—which made sense if he’d been in the park all day and away from any news stations reporting on my demotion.

  Though I had a feeling that this mountain man didn’t pay too much attention to anything except who and what he was responsible for.

  My mountain man.

  It was a weird feeling—to have such a strong sense of familiarity for someone I’d known one night six years ago combined with a modest level of uncertainty.

  Seeing Logan again felt like no time had passed—as though I’d promised him a chance at forever just last night. The way my heart beat with a skip in its step. The way my body hummed with a warm continuous undercurrent of desire. Everything I felt back then was still there, if not with even more intensity.

  But on the other hand, six years had passed and the time created a chasm between us. My leaving had created a chasm between us… one he seemed unwilling to cross.

  I was starting to see that, like most things about Logan, the simplicity of his surface belied a more intricate substance underneath.

  Even his house, the log cabin style which wasn’t too dissimilar from many houses in the area, seemed simple and plain at first glance. A-frame roof, exposed beams, unadorned white walls. But once I roamed around the main floor while he was in the shower last night—I saw the ornately-carved wood door that looked like it belonged on a Viking ship. I noticed the same carvings on the wood details around the windows and on the cabinets. And, speaking of Viking, the appliances were all purchased from the top-notch brand.

  And the bed… I shuddered. The slightest brush of his finger reminded me just how badly I wanted all of his touches that night—and how few of them I got.

  Sliding from under the covers, wondering if I should let him know I always slept in the nude, I threw on his shorts and t-shirt and cinched them tight.

  A quick glance out the window told me Estes Park was in worse shape than it had been last night.

  I opened the door and padded into the kitchen.

  “Logan?”

  His low mutterings drew my attention to his presence where he stood by the windows, looking out over the flooded terrain as he speared a hand through his hair.

  It was longer now than it had been six years ago.

  And he was definitely bigger.

  I balked, drinking in the sight of his toned back muscle, rippling down before they faded into low-hung grey sweatpants.

  You know what should be banned by the UCMJ? Those fucking sweatpants.

  He ended the call and informed me, “I have to head into town. Route Seven, Thirty-Four, and Thirty-Six are all cut off, and Trail Ridge Road is hardly passable with the rockslides. Estes Park is stranded and we’ve got to evacuate Big Thompson Canyon.”

  Just as he hung up the phone it rang again, but he made no move to answer it.

  “Aren’t you—”

  “It’s the five-nine-eight automated call to warn residents of rising water levels and that they are releasing water from Lake Estes,” he said.

  I swallowed over the lump in my throat and immediately insisted, “I’m coming with you.”

  His eyes flared. “No.” He stalked by me into the bedroom. “You’ll be safe here. If floodwaters reach this high, not even an ark could save us.”

  “Alright, well you can either take me with you or I will walk. Or hijack one of those other vehicles in the garage,” I retorted.

  I was a servicewoman. There was no way I was staying behind on this.

  I’d been a part of several rescue missions while deployed. There was no way in hell I was going to stay here and not help now.

  He yanked a clean shirt over his head.

  “Dammit, Shay—” he broke off, and we both froze, knowing it was the first time he’d called me by my real name.

  “Logan.” I hated the way his name felt like it belonged on my lips. “This is just as much your job as it is mine.”

  Meeting his gaze, I knew he could
n’t deny it. We were both in the service of protecting people, and right now, the residents of Estes Park needed all the help they could get.

  “Plus, maybe someone will have some clothes that fit me.”

  I watched as his brain processed the benefits of taking me along.

  “Your choice.” I shrugged. “You can go, but don’t expect me to be here when you return.”

  The look on his face was a feral kind of expression that only incredible hurt and absolute need can create.

  “You’ve taught me well to never expect that from you,” he replied with a low voice and turned away. “Your sneakers are in the dryer. I’ll grab you a jacket. We leave in ten.”

  As soon as he was gone from the room, I let out an exasperated groan.

  Screw you, Logan Daniels and your almighty-morals.

  Maybe I deserved that… But as soon as we were done saving the world, I was going to have several stern words with my mountain ranger about what happened that night.

  About what should’ve happened that night.

  And about what I still wanted to happen even after all these years.

  I’d been a lot of places and seen a lot of things, but the water… the destruction… Huge chunks of road missing as though they’d been bombed. Low-sitting buildings drowning in floodwaters.

  We’d been warned. Back at the emergency team’s headquarters, the last thing Sheriff Larimer had told all the volunteers before we dispersed to our respective tasks was what to expect coming out here. But the way he said it—as though there weren’t words enough to describe the horror—should’ve prepared me more than I was.

  It was one thing to visit a town or city after it had been bombed. A bomb destroys in a matter of moments. But this flood… it was destruction in slow motion. Houses. Power and communication lines. Roads. Vehicles. Business. Life. All swept away by the raging current.

  Estes Park had gotten eight inches of water in the last day and a half.

  The evacuation of the canyon that had been voluntary a few hours ago was now mandatory.

  A fifteen-foot wall of water had crashed through the basin, turning what was once a creek into a deadly storm of rapids and waterfalls that swallowed anything and anyone in their frothy deluge.

  I raised a hand and knocked on the door in front of me.

  “Hello, ma’am,” I addressed the elderly woman who opened it. “My name is Shay and I’m with the local emergency crew. The floodwaters are rising and evacuation is now mandatory.”

  The woman’s hands trembled and her mouth gaped as she looked at me and then back into her home.

  “I’m here to escort you to the evacuation center for the time being,” I pressed on with calm reassurance.

  She stared at me with a blank sort of sadness. “B-But my home…”

  My lips firmed into a line and I straightened my spine, clasping my hands behind my back as though I were standing in front of Commander O’Shaunessey and not a civilian who knew she might never see her house again.

  “Is not as important as your life, Mrs. Taft.” Logan’s firm yet soothing voice came from behind me as he extended a hand.

  She hesitated another moment before taking his assistance, and I watched as his giant form escorted Mrs. Taft’s small frame to the van taking canyon residents to the shelter.

  “I don’t understand why she hesitated,” I said a few minutes later when Logan returned, walking by me as we made our way through muddy plains to go door-to-door, evacuating those who hadn’t left.

  Thankfully, a local policewoman on the emergency crew had an extra set of clothes she was able to lend me, along with her old pair of hiking boots for the day and a promise to bring a small duffel with more supplies tomorrow. They weren’t an exact fit, but they were lightyears better than wearing anything of Logan’s.

  “Mrs. Taft has lived in that house for thirty years. Some people hesitate when they know they might not see something they care about ever again.”

  The undercurrents in his words ran stronger than the floodwaters that overwhelmed the canyon river next to us.

  Touché.

  “Alright, Logan,” I growled, picking up my pace to keep up with his long legs. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have just disappeared on you after promising to call—promising to see you, and I’m sorry.”

  My boots fell heavily on the small track of pavement leading to the next house.

  “Apology accepted,” he said with more militaristic command than most of my superiors. “Now, let’s focus on our job.”

  “We can walk and talk—or is multitasking against your rules, too?” I pursed my lips as he glared over his shoulder.

  “It was six years ago; there’s nothing to talk about. One-night stand and all that. Trust me, I know how those work,” he said nonchalantly.

  This time, my stomach squeezed for a whole different reason.

  Jealousy.

  And it wasn’t green like they made it out to be. It was red and poker-hot as it speared into my gut.

  “I didn’t want it to be a one-night stand,” I bit out. “I meant what I said to you, but I had to leave the next day. And once I did, the thought of—”

  “Shay,” he whipped around and cut me off just as I let out a scream.

  The pavement collapsed underneath me like the floor dropping away on one of those amusement park rides.

  One second I was plummeting. The next, I was secured against Logan’s chest as he carried me onto the muddy embankment on the other side of the asphalt.

  My mouth was dry as I gasped in air, staring at where I’d almost fallen. Moments later, the pieces of pavement that had broken off rushed out into the raging river.

  That could’ve been me.

  My thoughts quieted against the rapid but steady beat of Logan’s heart.

  “You’re alright,” he said with a low voice, the rumble in his chest soothing the disquiet in mine and creating a new kind of unease at the same time.

  My chin dragged against the fabric of his shirt as I looked up to find his gaze.

  I didn’t just want to apologize for six years ago. I wanted to finish what was started—what I left…

  What I ran from.

  And what I’d run back to.

  My knees buckled, and I sagged against him almost as suddenly as if the ground had been pulled out from underneath me once again.

  “You’re alright,” he repeated, and though he couldn’t know it, his words spoke to all the ways I was falling—and failing—recently.

  When the moment finally came—the one where I flew too high and scorched the tips of my wings against the sun—I fell back down here, in Colorado, hoping he would catch me.

  He’d promised to be there when I landed—whether to catch me or to hold me—and maybe in the deepest, most vulnerable parts of me, that was the reason I’d come back to Colorado.

  Because Logan Daniels wasn’t a liar.

  He was the only man who’d ever made me feel okay about falling—the only man who’d tempted me to come back down and be simply Shay, the woman who wanted nothing more than him.

  Logan swore underneath his breath as his arms tightened around me, searching every inch of my face for signs that something was wrong.

  “You okay?” he finally asked.

  With a jerky nod, I pulled back from him and he reluctantly let me go.

  “I’m fine.” The thought sent me recoiling back into my decorated and uniformed shell. “Holy shit. I can’t believe that just broke.”

  Turning away from Logan, I carefully maneuvered close to the pavement and bent forward at enough of an angle to see that the rains had washed away most of the supporting earth underneath it, causing it to collapse.

  “You need to radio back and let the teams know to be careful; the asphalt down here is completely compromised,” I told him in my best down-to-business voice.

  His eyes roamed over me for one hard second, searching for any more cracks in my armor.

  But I was a soldier. He’d
never find my breaks.

  He raised his radio up to his mouth, holding my gaze as he spoke. “Basecamp, this is Logan Daniels. Please alert all teams to stay off the pavement down here. Just had a huge piece collapse and tumble down into the river.”

  Tearing myself away, I walked on as the faint sounds of confirmation from rescue headquarters came back through.

  For the next ten hours, we scoured through the canyon, moving out almost fifty people to be taken to the evacuation center or to stay elsewhere.

  And every house after the first had only gotten harder to watch as the threatening floodwaters tore people—families from their homes.

  “B-But what about my animals?” A little girl with blonde ringlets looked up at me with huge, watering blue eyes, her words thick and lisped because she was missing her two front teeth.

  “Her stuffed animals,” her mother clarified as she bent down and picked up her daughter, assuring her that she could always get more toys.

  Reaching out, I rested my hand on the girl’s small shoulder.

  “What’s your name?” I asked sweetly.

  “Bella.” Her lower lip trembled.

  I gave her the biggest smile I could muster. “It’s nice to meet you Bella. I’m Shay, and I’m going to get your animals and make sure they make it safely back to you, okay?”

  Her face brightened as though I’d just told her I’d take her to meet Santa Claus. “You will?”

  “I will,” I promised.

  “But what if the water gets too high?”

  I could sense Bella’s mom was anxious to go and feeling bad that her daughter was holding up the rescue effort. I gave her a nod of calm assurance, that there was a moment to be spared to finish this conversation.

  “Then I’ll just have to fly in through the window to grab them,” I said lightly.

  “You can fly?” Her little palm pressed over her mouth and she gasped out, “Are you Super Girl?”

  Shit.

  My smile wavered and my hand fell from her shoulder.

  “I’m going to get your animals, but you need to go to the van now, okay?”

  I stepped to the side as the mom thanked me, but before she could hurry to the van, Bella reached out and threw her arms around my neck.