by Marie Fraser
Harry
Wild Tinder Book 3
by Marie Fraser
Harry Denismore doesn’t talk much, unless it’s about his crew or fire season. He doesn’t make small talk and he doesn’t seek out others who do. If you’re crazy enough to ask him about his family, be prepared to get a tongue lashing that will leave your ears next to bleeding.
Katie Richards loves to talk. She’ll talk to anyone about anything and doesn’t shy away from even the most uncomfortable conversations. In Harry she sees a challenge and she’s never met a challenge she couldn’t overcome.
Will Katie push too hard when it comes to Harry’s past, or will Harry learn that sharing often leads to healing? Can these two learn to speak one another’s language or will miscommunication keep them apart?
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Copyright 2019 Marie Fraser
All RIGHTS RESERVED. One or more global copyright treaties protect the information in this document. This Special Report is not intended to provide exact details or advice. This report is for informational purposes only. Author reserves the right to make any changes necessary to maintain the integrity of the information held within. This Special Report is not presented as legal or accounting advice. All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. No parts of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission of the copyright owner.
NOTICE OF LIABILITY
In no event, shall the author or the publisher be responsible or liable for any loss of profits or other commercial or personal damages, including but not limited to special incidental, consequential, or any other damages, in connection with or arising out of furnishing, performance or use of this book.
All Characters, events and locations in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, dead or living, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Chapter One: Mislead Communication
Katie Richards couldn’t wait to start reporting on the wildfires that had recently ripped through the Crescent Valley. She knew that at least fifteen homes had been lost in the wealthy Pine Crest subdivision alone. She also knew that a crew of hotshots had worked the fire, alongside several local fire departments in hopes of finally squelching the flames, which they eventually did.
“You all set Kat?” Dean Edison asked as he picked up his camera.
“Absolutely,” she smiled. “Let’s do this.”
Dean got into position outside the sign that still read as clear as day, Pine Crest. He held up his hands, three fingers in the air. Then two, then one. Pointing at Kat, he turned the camera on.
“We’re here, outside the Pine Crest subdivision which was devastated by last week’s raging wildfire. At least fifteen homes in this section alone were completely destroyed with several others suffering from smoke or heat damage, many from both.
“Excuse me!” Katie called, flagging down a gentleman who was wearing a fireman’s suit, his face smeared with soot. “Can we interview you?”
“Sure,” the man said, propping his axe against the side of house that had certainly seen better days. It’s burned out hull a haunted shell of the lives that occupied it just days before. “What would you like to know?”
“First, for our audience, can I get your name?”
“Harry, ma’am. Harry Denismore.”
“Thank you, Harry. Now, can you tell me what you think of this particular fire and if you were on-duty during the height of its rage?”
“It was a hell of a blaze,” Harry said with a grin. “And yes, I was working.”
“Are you with a local department or-“
“I’m a hotshot ma’am. I hail from Montana, so I’m relatively close to home, but unlike the locals, I work six month stints.”
“Thank you,” Katie said again, flustered by the man’s short, to the point answers and the way he seemed to be unaffected by the camera. How was it that she found the only guy who wasn’t interested in fifteen minutes of fame? Before she could ask another question the man had turned and walked back to the burnt house, picking up his axe and working to take down the only remaining wall so presumably it wouldn’t fall on any passersby or a devastated homeowner coming back to view the wreckage firsthand.
***
Harry got the wall taken down clean before he let his mind wander back to the reporter. She was a cute little thing, built like a baby bird. All bones with long, slender muscles. Why was it then that he couldn’t get her out of his head?
If he’d been any less male he’d have blamed it on simple hormones, the lack of sex that had been going on for far longer than Harry was comfortable admitting. His last romance had ended amicably enough, but it’d been nearly a year since he’d even been interested in dating.
“You think I’m getting too old for the dating game?” he asked JJ, whose real name was Jasper Jansen.
“You’re like what, twenty-eight? If you’re too old then I’m dead and gone.”
“Please, JJ,” Harry grinned. “You can’t tell me Cassie’s giving you trouble again.”
“Nope,” JJ said. “She dumped me, about a month back.”
“Seriously?” Harry said, looking up in surprise. “I thought you two were more than just bed partners.”
“Me too,” he shrugged. “Apparently not.”
“Well shit, man. You okay?”
“Eh,” JJ said, nonchalantly. “Always more fish in the see right?”
“True,” Harry said, cautioning. “Just make sure you don’t take on one fish without letting go of the other.”
“Wise words, H,” JJ agreed. “I’m gonna go wipe down the tanker.”
“Alright, see you for lunch.”
“Save me a burger.”
“Steak.”
“Even better,” JJ smiled, giving a hearty salute before he turned and jogged outside.
They were a month into their six month tour and already it was sweltering. Summer didn’t usually start this early in the Crescent Valley, but Harry knew that lately the weather was anything but predictable. He was just slapping the first steaks on the grill when he heard the distinct sound of a woman’s voice, and it wasn’t Ava Rodriguez, one of their hotshots.
“Mr. Denismore?”
Turning Harry looked on the pretty face of that reporter who’d cornered him earlier in the week when they’d been clearing debris from the Pine Crest subdivision.
“Call me Harry,” he said. “I’d shake your hand but I’m a little messy.”
“It’s alright,” Katie smiled. “Steaks?”
“Only way to go in my book.”
“Listen, I don’t mean to take up much of your time. I just had some questions I didn’t get to ask you the other day.”
“So you tracked me down all the way out here?”
“I’m a reporter, that’s my job.”
“Okay,” Harry said, noting the way her back went up. So she was touchy about her profession. “No offense intended.”
“Sorry, I just…sometimes I forget that I don’t have to explain my reasons to everyone.”
“True,” Harry said, biting into a slice of bell pepper. “You wanna stay for lunch?”
Katie turned toward her cameraman with a lift of her eyebrows. “What man doesn’t love steak, especially when it’s free?”
“Oh, it’s not,” Harry grinned. “Steak always has a price. For you two, it’s listening to the music I play while I cook.”
“Oh?”
He grinned and turned tow
ard the eighties retro boom box and hit the play button on the cassette player. Journey, in all its eighties glory spilled out of the speakers and Harry laughed when Katie just stared. "Too old?”
“No, just…really?”
“I was born in 1990, Journey was a staple in my house growing up.”
“I already feel sorry for you.”
Harry chuckled. “I could turn on some Queen if you’d prefer.”
“No,” Katie nearly shouted. “Journey’s great.”
***
Katie was perplexed by this nondescript man. He was down to earth, which was nice, but there didn’t seem to be a shred of attention seeker in him. Most men she knew couldn’t wait to have the spotlight once they knew what she did for a living. Why didn’t Harry?
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
“I can’t guarantee I’ll answer it.”
“OK,” Katie said, taking the risk. “Why aren’t you interested in me?”
“Excuse me?” Harry asked, one eyebrow raising when he turned dark eyes on her.
“Sorry, that didn’t come out right. In my business,” Katie said, starting over. “I’m used to seeing two types of people. Those who can’t wait to get their fifteen minutes of fame and those who absolutely will not go on camera. It’s just odd to see someone who’s comfortable in front of the camera, but doesn’t seek it out.”
Harry shrugged. “It’s nothing personal, Miss Richards. I just don’t have a need to flaunt myself or my opinions for others to crow over. You ask me a question, I’ll give you a straight answer, but I’m not much for embellishment or anything of the sort. No offense.”
“None taken,” she said, still watching him. “Those steaks smell incredible.”
“Well at least you’re not a, I’ll just have a salad type.”
“Stereotypes?”
“Too many of those damn things, if you ask me.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” she chuckled. “Do you have anything to go with those?”
“Salad,” Harry laughed. “I think there’s some potatoes and baked beans in the fridge if you’d like some.”
“I’ll warm them up if you show me there the kitchen or microwave is.”
“Kitchen’s through the bay door there to the left. Microwave is there as well.”
“Thanks.”
***
Harry flipped the steaks and wondered about the reporter who was warming up side dishes in his kitchen. It wasn't actually his, but he was just about the only hotshot, aside from Ava, who used it. He made the manly meals and she did the soup and salad sort.
Katie Richards though was a different story altogether and man could the woman talk. He imagined how many circles of hell he could make if he had to talk for a living. “Katie, can you bring me a large plate? I think these bad boys are done.”
“About time H,” Alex Hernandez said, coming in from parking the water tanker.
“Don’t start on me, Hernandez.”
“I’m just saying,” Alex shrugged with a grin and a wink. “You grill slower than my ninety-year old granddaddy.”
“Jackson!” Harry called. “Tell Alex to shut it!”
“Shut it, both of you.”
The men laughed as Katie walked through the bay door with a plate and two side dishes in her hands. Harry didn’t miss the way Alex and Jackson looked at her. Giving her another assessment, he couldn’t blame them. She was short and slim, built the complete opposite of him and still he found her incredible attractive. Maybe getting to know her better wasn’t such a bad idea.
“So, Katie, how is it that you came to know Harry?”
“I interviewed him down at Pine Crest on day during the fire cleanup.”
“Oh?” Alex grinned. “And what did our esteemed silver-tongued logophile have to say?”
“I’m not so sure I’d put him down as a word lover,” Katie laughed. “I couldn’t keep the questions going fast enough to keep him from walking off.”
“That’s because Harry here isn’t much of a talker. Not even close.”
“So, I don’t like to hear the sound of my own voice. Is there something wrong with that?”
“Not wrong, but certainly odd,” Ava said, motioning with her fork.
“How?”
“It just is,” she shrugged. “Having a conversation with you is worse than pulling teeth. Let’s face it, H. About the only person who talks less than you is either a mute or dead.”
“See why I don’t like talking?” Harry said, raising dark eyes to meet Katie’s intense green ones. Was it odd that he found them so beautiful? Green wasn’t really his color, but her eyes were just so damn bright.
***
Katie was much quieter than usual as she watched the interplay between these colleagues. Was it strange, she wondered, for them to work together so closely and then walk away after six months of intensity? Harry seemed to not care one way or another, but she’d seen him cleaning up a home that wasn’t his, just to make sure someone wouldn’t come along and get hurt by the single standing wall.
She stood and thanked everyone for their hospitality before pushing her chair in and heading for the exit. When Harry showed up at her side, she smiled. “Hi.”
“Thought I’d walk you out.”
“Okay.”
She let the silence stretch until her nerves frayed. “Can I ask you a question?”
“I suppose.”
“Does your family worry about you when you’re out here?”
“My family?”
“Yeah, you know…wife, children, parents, siblings, that sort of thing.”
“I’m not married, nor do I have children,” Harry said slowly. “As for the rest of my family, they couldn’t care less and that’s the way I prefer it.”
So that was a touchy subject, Katie thought. Steer clear of that until they’d formed a firmer foundation. “Friends?”
“I have a few.” Harry said.
“You really don’t like to elaborate do you?”
“Look, Katie, I get that you’re a reporter. As such you have a need to ask countless questions and dig until you find the answers. I don’t mean any offense, I just don’t have much to offer someone like you.”
“Mr. Denismore-“
“I’m sorry, Katie,” Harry said, before Katie watched him walk back toward the large building they’d just stepped out of.
“Well of all the idiotic,” Katie sighed. She slipped behind the wheel of her BMW Concept 6 coupe and drove back toward the city. Maybe it was just as well, she thought, to have a little space. It was obvious the man didn’t want anyone to get close, to know him more than on the surface.
Chapter Two: Best Laid Plans
Katie decided, after about a week, she’d waited just about long enough to contact Harry. Even so she couldn’t explain, even to herself, what exactly it was she was expecting. Still, she felt the need to try and so she drove the two hours south and hoped it was still in the six month period for Harry’s contract. Much to her reporter’s chagrin, she hadn’t asked when his contract ended.
“Katie,” Danny Carpenter said, stretching out a hand. “Glad to have you back. If…you’re looking for Harry, I’m afraid you’ve missed him. He was called home on an emergency.”
“Oh,” Katie said. “I thought he wasn’t close to his family.”
“Sometimes, when our families are such a disappointment, we make our own. Those Harry calls family aren’t necessarily related to him by DNA.”
Katie thanked Danny and sat in her car, wondering about her next move. She’d been so sure of herself when she’d started her drive, but now…now she wasn’t sure of anything.
***
Harry sat inside the home of his adoptive parents and wondered what he was supposed to do now. The mother of his heart, Teresa, had been in the hospital. Apparently she’s suffered a stroke and was sent home on hospice care. Harry, for one, was helpless.
“I just…I don’t know what to do,” he said, looking
at Teresa’s children, Ron and Christina. Younger by three years, Ron was the typical oldest younger brother. Technically, he was the oldest, because Harry didn’t really belong, at least biologically, to this family. But as loved as Harry had always been by Teresa and her family, he acted the part of the oldest and now he fumbled, not knowing exactly what role to play.
When the doorbell rang, Harry let Christina answer it, ignoring the back and forth banter of whoever was on the other side. When Christina came back in he could tell something was wrong. “What is it?”
“Nothing, it’s okay. It’s just…there’s a woman here who says she needs to talk to you. She said you’d know her, a Miss Katie Richards.”
Harry got up and went to the door, surprised and shocked that Katie was indeed standing on the other side. Stepping out, he shut the door behind him. “What are you doing here?”
“Nice to see you too,” she said, feeling unlike her usual giddy self. “I came by to find you at the hotshot’s headquarters and you weren’t there. One of your fellow firefighters was kind enough to explain that sometimes people choose their loved ones, especially when life doesn’t give them a good roll of the dice.
“I wanted to tell you that I was sorry. I shouldn’t have pried where I wasn’t wanted.”
“You drove all the way here to apologize?”
“Yes,” Katie said.
Harry sighed. He’d known plenty of people in his twenty-eight years. Some were real people hidden behind fake masks, others, most of whom were fake people hiding behind even faker masks. A reporter would seem to be as fake as they come. Why wasn’t Katie like that? “Would you like to come in? I’m not exactly in the best state of mind, but I could use the company.”
“Sure,” Katie said.
***
She hadn’t truly known what to expect. Having Harry invite her into his home was definitely a good sign, she hoped. She stood in the foyer, taking in the modest home with its overtly warm welcome. “I like your home.”
