High Heat (Hotshots)

by Annabeth Albert

  Annabeth Albert’s Hotshots series continues—the emotions and intensity of Chicago Fire with the raw, natural elements of Man vs. Wild.

  Smoke jumping is Garrick Nelson’s life. Nothing, not severe injuries nor the brutal physical therapy that follows, is going to stop him from getting back with his crew. But when a lost dog shows up on his front porch, he can’t turn her away, and he can’t take care of her on his own. Thankfully, help comes in the form of his sexy new dog-loving neighbor. As they work together, trying to rehome their little princess, Garrick can’t resist his growing attraction for the other man, even though he knows this guy isn’t the staying type.

  Rain Fisher doesn’t take anything too seriously. He dances through life, one adventure at a time, never settling in one place for too long. When his hot, conveniently buff, neighbor shows up on his doorstep, dog in tow, Rain’s determined to save not just the adorable puppy, but her reluctant owner as well. He never expects their flirtation might tempt him into staying put once and for all...

  Danger lurks everywhere for Central Oregon’s fire crews, but the biggest risk of all might be losing their hearts. Don’t miss the Hotshots series from Annabeth Albert: High Heat, Burn Zone and Feel the Fire.

  Also available from Annabeth Albert

  and Carina Press

  Better Not Pout

  Status Update

  Beta Test

  Connection Error

  Off Base

  At Attention

  On Point

  Wheels Up

  Squared Away

  Tight Quarters

  Rough Terrain

  Arctic Sun

  Arctic Wild

  Arctic Heat

  High Heat

  Feel the Fire (Fall 2020)

  Also available from Annabeth Albert

  Trust with a Chaser

  Tender with a Twist

  Lumber Jacked

  Treble Maker

  Love Me Tenor

  All Note Long

  Served Hot

  Baked Fresh

  Delivered Fast

  Knit Tight

  Wrapped Together

  Danced Close

  Resilient Heart

  Winning Bracket

  Save the Date

  Level Up

  Mr. Right Now

  High Heat

  Annabeth Albert

  For my dad.

  I’m sorry I still haven’t written you your space assassins, but I miss you every day, and I couldn’t have written this one without some of the lessons you left behind.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Author Note

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Excerpt from Feel the Fire by Annabeth Albert

  Chapter One

  “Come on, honey. You gotta let me help you.” Garrick liked to think he was good at sweet-talking, but his track record of success was in serious jeopardy here.

  Woof. The dog danced away from him again. Balanced on crutches, he was limited in his ability to lunge for her. A year ago, his fast reflexes would have made his words irrelevant, but now he pitched his voice low and gentle.

  “Sit? Can you sit?”

  Miraculously, the dog plopped her fairly sizable behind down on his porch. She appeared to be some happy mix of pit, rottie and lab with a short brownish coat and white and tan markings on her nose and chest. No collar, which was alarming enough, but it was the bloody paw prints on his porch and scrape on her side that had him truly concerned.

  He took a few steps toward her, but she quickly backed up. Damn it. It was probably the crutches that were scaring her.

  “Me too, dog. Me too.” Industrial gray with heavy forearm cuffs, the crutches made a heavy sound with each step. They were a necessity that made his life far easier than the underarm variety had, but he couldn’t deny that they were probably intimidating to the scared dog. He needed a better plan. She was probably only fifty or sixty pounds, but he wasn’t going to be able to even grab her scruff, let alone lift her.

  “Can you stay?”

  The dog cocked her head like she was actually listening, which made Garrick laugh for the first time since discovering her barking at his front door. Obedient even if skittish, she stayed in place while he went back into the house. He traded the crutches for his wheelchair and retrieved his phone from the dining table.

  Hell. He hated needing help, had needed so much of it in the past year, but he couldn’t let his pride get in the way of helping a wounded animal. His neighbor Shirley had dogs, two of them, little white yappy things. She’d have a leash and know a vet to call. She didn’t answer when he dialed her number, but he could see two cars in her driveway. Probably had company, and he hated interrupting, but it really couldn’t be avoided. If she wasn’t home, he’d have to try another friend or his dad, but this would be quicker.

  Pocketing the phone, he rolled back out to the porch where the dog waited right where he’d left her.

  “Good girl,” he praised, but when he scooted closer, she backed up again. “Okay, okay. I’m getting help. Stay.”

  He used the wooden side ramp his friends had built for him to navigate the two porch steps, then zipped down the driveway and across the cul-de-sac to Shirley’s house, a neat little seventies ranch, same basic size as his own. Hers was a friendly shade of lilac, while he’d gone for gray. It was an older neighborhood of smaller homes but decent-sized yards, and close to both a park and Garrick’s favorite sports bar, where he used to hang out all the time.

  And the air base, but he was trying not to think about that. Gorgeous blue sky, not a cloud in sight, fresh spring air, perfect day for a training jump or two. But not this year. Next one. You’ll get there, he reminded himself as he navigated Shirley’s driveway, which had more of an angle than his.

  No porch for Shirley, but the single step in front of the front door was always a challenge. He should have brought the crutches, but he’d been in a hurry. Stretching, he managed to reach far enough to rattle the storm door. “Shirley? Shirley? It’s Garrick.”

  “What the—” The door swung open to reveal a younger man, undoubtedly one of her many grandkids, and that would explain the extra car. And of course it would be one of the gorgeous guys who starred in the pics all over Shirley’s fridge—riot of curly chestnut hair pulled up, brown eyes and a lean dancer’s build in a shimmery blue shirt. “You need something?”

  All of a sudden, Garrick was acutely aware of his dingy sweatpants and grubby T-shirt advertising a triathlon from five years back. He’d been going through his physical therapy exercises when he’d heard the dog barking. And it had been months since he’d last worried what he looked like, so God only knew the state of his hair and face, but something about this guy made him care. And like with the dog, he did
not seem to be making a good first impression, judging by the guy’s scowl.

  “I’m her neighbor,” he hurried to explain. “From across the street? The one who built her garden beds in back. We’re friends. I need her help with a dog situation.”

  “A dog situation?” The scowl dropped, leaving in its place a more speculative expression, one that showed off the guy’s full mouth and high cheekbones. “She’s mentioned you. She’s resting right now though. Said she had a bad arthritis night.”

  “Heck. Yeah, don’t wake her up. But there’s a dog on my porch, a hurt stray, and I need to figure out what to do with it. It won’t let me close.”

  “On your porch?” He gestured behind Garrick. A quick swivel revealed the dog at the bottom of Shirley’s driveway, looking expectantly at him.

  “I thought I told you to stay!” Garrick said to the dog, then turned back to the young man, who was laughing now. Dimples. Because, of course. “Yeah. That’s it. Seems friendly enough, but I don’t have a leash and I’m not sure what to do once I catch her.”

  “Okay, hang tight. Let me make sure Mimi and Molly are secure, then I’ll get a leash and some treats.” The guy disappeared into the house.

  “Come on now. You don’t need to be afraid.” Garrick rolled toward the dog, hand outstretched. She let him get closer than she had on the porch, then started backing up.

  “Cookie? Who wants a cookie?” Shirley’s grandson reappeared with a black leash and a packet of bacon-and-peanut-butter-flavored biscuits. Mouth cracking into a doggy grin, the hound ignored Garrick’s hand in favor of limping toward the treats.

  “Guess you’re Mr. Popular now,” Garrick joked, following her.

  “Oh, you know that word! Cookie! Don’t you? Smart cookie!” The guy had a great voice, friendly and musical, not overpowering at all, and for a second, Garrick wouldn’t have minded being the one showered with praise. Which was odd. Not the attraction—that happened some, or at least it used to. But it hadn’t since the accident. Not even hookup apps or porn of any stripe held much appeal these days. But apparently golden brown eyes and bouncy hair and really bad timing did the trick.

  “She knows sit too,” Garrick provided as the dog gobbled down a treat. “Sit.”

  Obediently, she plopped down on the concrete driveway. Woof.

  “Someone wants another cookie?” This time the guy was lightning fast, the sort of reflexes that would be at home on any engine crew, as he lassoed the leash around her neck, clipping it in place. He doled out another biscuit as he straightened. “She’s hungry. Probably hasn’t eaten in a while. Want me to get some water while you call Animal Control?”

  Garrick had to laugh. “This is a small town. Very small town. There’s no dog catcher or pound.”

  “None? Police nonemergency number maybe?”

  “I don’t think they handle stray dogs that aren’t a threat. Fish and Wildlife will come for wild animals like bobcats on your property, but not dogs.”

  “Thank goodness you’re not a bobcat.” Giving a nervous laugh, the guy glanced off into the hills before patting the dog again.

  “There’s an animal shelter in Bend, about forty-five minutes away, but I think she needs a vet first. I’d go door-to-door to find an owner but that paw has me worried about walking her too much.”

  “Good point.”

  “Rain? What’s the commotion?” Shirley emerged from the house, walking a little slower than normal but looking pretty with her long gray hair spilling down the back of a dress dyed the colors of an Oregon sunset.

  Rain. He had to be one of the Portland grandkids—they all seemed to have hippie names. Rain, Skye, Lark and so on. And he was clearly used to bigger cities than Painter’s Ridge, where no one who worked for the town was coming out for a lost dog.

  “Your...uh...neighbor found a dog.” Still holding the leash, Rain walked over to her. The name absolutely suited his lithe frame and natural grace to his strides.

  “Garrick.” He offered a handshake after Rain transferred the leash to his other hand. He hadn’t grabbed the wheelchair gloves he usually used for longer treks, so his bare skin met Rain’s. And there it was again. Sparks, sure as a flint meeting steel, right when he could least do a damn thing about it. And because Shirley undoubtedly wouldn’t appreciate him macking on her much-too-young grandson, he glanced away.

  “I’m gonna get that water. You think you can hold her?” Glancing down at Garrick’s chair, Rain offered the leash somewhat reluctantly.

  “Yup. I’ll put the brakes on.” Garrick engaged the locks for his wheels. He was still getting used to all the bells and whistles on this one. It was a nice chair, far better than the old-fashioned clunky things he’d first had at the hospital. Ultralight. Racing style they called it, though that was a bit optimistic as far as he’d found. The thicker bicycle-like tires and red trim added to the sporty appearance. He’d been reluctant to give up the rental chair, get this one custom fit when he wasn’t sure how long he’d need it, but the insurance, which could be a bastard about some things, had paid up.

  “I don’t know as I like the look of that dog. Too big. And you never know, might be aggressive.” Shirley shook her head.

  “Seems like a sweetheart to me.” Garrick kept his tone light, not too argumentative, but the dog, who was currently twisted around trying to get at her scrape, seemed more scaredy-cat than fighter.

  “Don’t let Rain talk himself into keeping her here. Mimi is downright territorial over her house. And we have to watch Molly at the park. She’s always goading bigger dogs.”

  It wasn’t really Garrick’s place to be preventing Rain from anything, but he nodded. “Well, hopefully we’ll find the owner quickly. You’ve never seen this dog around?”

  “No. But I can make some calls. And I’m on that neighborhood group thing.” She whipped out her phone, a newer model that one of the grandkids had talked her into.

  Garrick largely avoided the online neighborhood group, which tended to complain about package stealers, lawn ornament movers and inconsiderate parkers, but it might be useful for something like this.

  Shirley snapped a picture of the dog and got busy on her phone as Rain came back with a mixing bowl full of water. The dog waited patiently for Rain to set it down, then gulped down most of the water, tail wagging, still paying no mind to the leash. Yeah, she was a sweetheart all right, and someone had to be frantically looking for her.

  “The vet will be able to tell us if she’s microchipped.” Rain patted the dog on her head.

  “Yes. Cherry Pet Care on Main is where I go. They take walk-ins,” Shirley added, not looking up from the phone.

  “Do you want me to take her?” Rain’s mouth quirked as he glanced between Garrick and the dog. “Or do you want to come? The vet might not...uh...do pro bono work on strays.”

  “I’ll come.” Garrick got it. He’d been a broke college kid once upon a time too, and Rain didn’t look much older than twenty-two or so, which was a nice reminder not to go perving on his good looks again. “I’ll just need to grab my wallet.”

  “Thanks.” Relief was evident in Rain’s wide eyes.

  “No lost dog notices from the neighbors,” Shirley reported. “And you better hurry. The vet only has short Saturday hours. You sure you’re up for the outing, Garrick?”

  “Nothing better to do,” he said lightly, but it was true. Weekends were the worst. No physical therapy. Fewer visits from his dad, who worked long hours at his Western-themed shop, which did a ton of tourist business. Friends were busy with their own lives, and inviting himself along was far more complicated than it used to be, as was finding his own fun. The dog was the most exciting thing to happen in a while, and that was just sad. “Besides, Rain said you were feeling under the weather. You rest and check the app, and we’ll handle the dog.”

  It felt good to take charge of something again, even
if it was simply logistics for the dog. He sent Rain to fetch old towels to protect his car from the dog’s wounds while he headed back to his place for his wallet, keys and crutches, which went in the holder on the back of his chair, another spiffy feature that helped. No time to change clothes though. Not that he needed to care what sort of impression he made on Rain or the vet or anyone else.

  Rain met him at his car, a small SUV, with the dog waiting on her leash.

  “So...dog goes in the back seat and your wheelchair in the cargo area? That sound okay?” Rain asked, not told, which was nice, especially when he continued, “Can you tell me how best to help you? Is the car too tall for you?”

  A lot of people would have made assumptions and started doing things at this point, but Rain gave him space, both literal and figurative, which Garrick appreciated.

  “I can stand to transfer.” Pulling up even with the passenger door, Garrick demonstrated. “Tall is actually easier. If you want to fold the chair and stow it, that would be great.”

  “No problem.” Rain wheeled it around to the back of the SUV.

  “It’s pretty sturdy,” Garrick called as he hefted himself into the passenger seat, suddenly weirdly on edge. “It collapses by pulling on the seat cushion, but don’t try to force anything.”

  “I’ve got you. Not my first time folding a chair. You’re safe with me, promise.”

  “Thanks.” Strangely, Garrick found himself nodding. He did feel comfortable with Rain, even though he was younger and a stranger and his car was old enough to not exactly inspire confidence. The gentle way that Rain loaded up the dog helped. He didn’t have the brashness Garrick associated with a lot of guys his age. And he seemed good-natured, the way he’d rolled with having his Saturday upended by Garrick and the dog. All in all, Garrick could have done a lot worse for an unexpected rescuer, and despite the seriousness of their task, he found himself almost eager to spend more time with him.

  Danger. Abort. Bad idea. Nice as it was to remember what attraction felt like, he wasn’t up to flirting, let alone anything else, and Rain was the trifecta of probably straight, too young and way off-limits. Better he simply focus on the job at hand and not let himself get carried away with anything else.