SmokingHot (7 page)

***

She should get to drive. After all, it was her bucket list—or, rather, Kade’s. And Kade was her sort-of fiancé. They slowly moved down the runway, the Segway rolling smoothly over the asphalt as Tye drove like a little old grandma.

“Some speed would be good.”

He didn’t take his eyes off the runway. “You want to go faster?”

“There’s no
faster
about it,” she grumbled. “We’d have to actually be going
fast
first.”

He chuckled. “You’ve got a thing for speed, don’t you?”

No. She just didn’t have a thing for
slow
. Life had a habit of passing by unless she reached out and grabbed it with both hands. She’d learned that the hard way. She eyed the speed setting.

“This is turtle mode.”

“Uh-huh,” he agreed. “Enjoy the scenery.”

The problem was, this scenery was all too familiar. They’d started close to the Donovans’ big metal hangar and now they were putting down the runway, past a DC-13 and a chopper. She’d seen these planes before. She’d seen this tarmac. Riding a Segway was supposed to be exciting. Different. Something more than this slow, sedate glide. When they hit the halfway mark on the runway, she wiggled herself into position by his side. She liked doing this better
with
him. Otherwise, it felt too much like he was driving.

Which he was.

Darn alpha male.

She leaned into Tye, feeling the tension in his hard body. Since she was apparently just along for the glide at the moment, she looked up at his face. And...
merde
. He had his eyes focused on the horizon, a SEAL on a mission
.
This was supposed to be fun. Kade had always had plenty of fun and lots of laughs. There wasn’t a bar where the man wasn’t welcome and no one he couldn’t win over. Tye looked like he was planning on storming an insurgent stronghold at the end of the runway.

That needed to change. Tye needed to have some fun. She slid her hands out from underneath his and slapped her palms over his fingers. There. Now she had a shot at being in control. “My turn.”

He hesitated, his fingers tensing beneath hers. Then he let go. Not happily, she knew, and probably not for long, but she’d take it. She promptly adjusted the speed setting, because this beginning mode wasn’t what she wanted. Not, she thought, that “standard” was much better. Apparently the makers of Segway were anti-speed too. There wasn’t a “fast,” “furious,” or “go, baby, go” setting anywhere to be seen. The Segway picked up speed, though, and she’d bet they were going all of twelve miles an hour.

They hit a bump. Okay. She steered them straight through a pothole. That was the truth, plain and simple. Tye’s arm snaked around her waist and he cursed.
Not
in French. Nope. She understood what he said perfectly well.

“Eyes on the road,” Mr. Grim Reaper demanded in her ear.

“You always play by the rules?”

“When my team’s safety is at stake? Absolutely.” His jaw tightened and he wrested control of the Segway from him.

“I don’t like playing by the rules,” she informed him, turning to face him.

“You do today.” He steered them left, making a tidy circuit of the landing strip behind the jump hangar. Katie counted two more planes parked on the runway and a half dozen pick-up trucks fanned out in a semi-circle. The place was peaceful and quiet.
Boring.

Then he stopped fast and that move threw her against his chest, because she hadn’t been holding on. Nope. She’d been letting go big time.

She finger walked up his chest. “Penalty on the play.”

He eyed her. “That’s the worst sports metaphor I’ve ever heard.”

“Suck it up.” She nudged his sunglasses up.

Danger, danger, Will Robinson.
Tye had old eyes, like she’d thought the first time she’d seen him, but there was something else there now, something she couldn’t help but respond to.
Heat
. For
her
, Katie Lawson. She’d never been a
femme fatale
. Despite her man problem at the bar that had made Kade pony up his faux fiancé services, guys tended to see her as the fun friend. The girl they played with on the softball team and chatted up while they went after girls like Laura and Abbie. Tye, however, looked at her like he could eat her up.

And she liked it.

Which was so, so bad of her.

Instead of turning around or getting off the Segway or doing any one of a dozen practical things, she slid her hands up his arms. His shoulders were as hard and powerful as the rest of him as he brought the Segway to a gentle halt. Good. Causing an accident wasn’t on
her
bucket list.

“I’ve got worse metaphors,” she promised and his lips quirked.

“Can’t wait for the show-and-tell.” He stood there, less than an inch of space between them and that slightly amused look curling his mouth. Her whole body was shrieking
oui, oui, oui
while her head countered with
C’est impossible!

“First base,” she whispered and, when he ducked his head to catch her words, she kissed him. Which was all his fault, she decided. He looked so hungry, what else was she supposed to do?

Her mouth pressed against his, her lips slightly parted so she could catch his lower lip between hers. A soft, sipping kiss, just tasting him the slightest bit because he was probably—okay, definitely—off-limits and at no point had she asked him if this kissing business was okay. But he tasted perfect. She ran her tongue over his bottom lip just to make certain. Yup.

He tasted perfect.

“Katie—” Her name on his lips was part need, but mostly protest.

***

Tye jumped off the Segway so fast he ass-planted.
Smooth.

“What the hell was that?”

“A kiss.” She glared at him, all
no shit, Sherlock
perched on the borrowed Segway.

“That’s not on the list,” he accused.

“Having a ménage is.” Damned if she didn’t look hopeful. Or something. He wasn’t sure what that
something
was, but he was in trouble here.

“I can count to three, angel. There are two people here.”

He wanted to leap back on that Segway. Or pull her down to the ground with him, get her underneath him and—

He wrestled his rebellious thoughts under control. “I thought you wanted to wait until Kade comes home to tackle the ménage to do.”

Right. Kade. He needed to be remembering his man down and not how Katie’s breasts had felt pressed up against his own chest.

“You think I’m a nice girl.” She hopped off the Segway and crouched beside him, stabbing a finger into his chest accusingly.

Yeah. He did.

“You’re wrong.”

He really, really wished he were.

She chewed on her lower lip and he wondered if Kade had told her that little gesture was her tell and betrayed her every time she started fudging the truth. “About Kade and I—”

“Save it,” he said, standing up. “I don’t want to hear the details. Consider that kiss practice, for when Kade comes home.”

He wished his return trip to the hangar was a victory march, but the ride was more of a strategic retreat. Katie’s belief in Kade’s coming home was contagious, it really was, but like catching a killer cold or that H1N1 swine flu. It wasn’t healthy. He couldn’t afford to think that way.

After all, no one knew better than he did that Kade was gone for good.

The flames licked over the tree canopy, creating a column of smoke visible for miles. Tye knew this, because he had a ringside seat for the fire’s next move. The jump team had hunkered down in their safety zone to wait out the fire currently parting around them like the Red Sea. Today’s safety zone was a previously-burned area which meant he was pretty much sitting on a pile of charcoal while the flames roared left and right. His present situation made Khost and the Afghan countryside actually look like a safe bet. The team had jumped in yesterday afternoon and then spent the night knocking down the flames. That had been good, hard work. There were no nightmares when he didn’t sleep. It was perfect.

A tanker chugged overhead, dropping a load of pink retardant onto the flames. Pink rain, Tye thought. It was an absolute Dr. Seuss moment. Fortunately, today’s exit plan didn’t involve a pack-out. Instead, the team was waiting for a chopper pick up. Thank God, because Tye didn’t see anything remotely resembling either a trail or flat terrain.

“We should have brought hot dogs.” Evan Donovan was a big guy, a broad-shouldered man who looked like he played defense for a football team. He was also a man on a mission as he tugged his protective gloves off and dug into an MRE he’d fished out of his pack.

“Do you ever think about anything besides your stomach?” Rio punched his brother in the shoulder in easy camaraderie.

Tye liked the Donovan brothers. They were good guys and all former military.

Evan chewed, then swallowed. “That fire gets any closer and we’re going home minus a few parts.”

Tye eyeballed the fire, but the Donovans seemed unconcerned. The other jumpers sprawled on their packs, feet up and asses planted. Joey was asleep.
Jesus.
If the Donovans weren’t worried, however, Tye was good. Mostly.

“Mandatory break time,” Jack said, when Tye raised an eyebrow and looked his way. “Mother nature wants to make sure we get our state-mandated ten minute time out.”

“No worries.” Tye pushed his helmet back, swiping at his forehead. He was pretty sure he’d just redistributed the black from the ash.

“Good.” Jack eyed him. “Sometimes, the new guys worry.”

“No idea why.” Tye watched the wall of flame sweeping past them. The flames’ roar approximated that of a freight train, drowning out the sound of the guys shifting. He took a drink from his canteen. Their picnic spot was uncomfortably hot, but pulling off his Nomex now was an unacceptable risk. He flexed his gloved hands. Nope. The gloves stayed on. Just in case.

“Be honest. How many team members do you fry?”

“On a yearly basis?” Jack grinned. “Why do you think we had a vacancy for you?”

Tye snorted, then sobered.

Jack clearly knew where Tye’s head had gone. “Kade was a good guy. He’ll be missed.”

He raised his canteen in a silent toast to the flames.

“He was the best.” Better than Tye. He should definitely be the one standing here, ass deep in fire.

Jack eyed the flames. “Ten more minutes and we’re good to go.”

Hefting his Pulaski, Tye mentally laid down his line. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Have you thought about what you’re doing when summer is over?”

Tye eyed him. “Uncle Sam has requested an encore.”

“Requesting isn’t the same thing as ordering,” Jack pointed out. “Re-upping is a choice.”

“Not for me. Is that what Kade was shooting for? A permanent berth on the team?”

“This isn’t about Kade,” Jack said easily, shoving to his feet. “Or what he might have wanted.”

But it
was
. Standing up, Tye slapped his helmet back into place. He had Kade’s place on the jump team. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had the best of reasons for volunteering. Hell, he’d known the jump team had been left shorthanded and experienced jumpers weren’t so easy to find. He’d been happy to step up and he was enjoying his summer. But he also wanted Kade’s fiancée and not for altruistic reasons.

Katie was gorgeous, sexy as hell and, yep, still completely off-limits. That crazy bucket list project? He got it. She wanted to do what Kade would have done. Well, Kade wouldn’t have kissed him, Tye knew that for certain. Keeping his hands to himself would be a challenge but he was a Navy SEAL and difficult was his specialty.

“If you change your mind, there’s a permanent place for you on the jump team,” Jack volunteered. “We could use another good man and you know your way around a plane. Spotted Dick bought himself a place down in Belize.”

Tye wasn’t a good man.

“Retirement property?” He had no idea how old Spotted Dick was, but the guy had clearly seen more than one firefight. He would have pegged him for the kind of guy who fought until the end though.

“Bone fishing.” Jack grinned. “He wants the odd week off here and there. I don’t think anyone could get him to pack it in permanently.”

Tye could sympathize. Parking his ass on a beach and watching the waves come in and go out seemed like a life sentence of boredom.
Pass
.

“I appreciate the offer.” Tye turned to face the fire. The flames looked shorter, right? Not quite as hungry? Jack seemed satisfied, however.

“That’s not a
yes
.”

Okay. Jack might be satisfied with the fire’s progress, but with this conversation? Not so much.

“Nope.” Part of him wished the next word out of his mouth could be that
yes
.

Jack Donovan fell into step beside him and they walked the line together in silence, assessing the fire’s progress. Even Tye could see that the flames had stopped their urgent forward movement. There were no obvious breaks or hotspots. The dirt line the jump team had carved inches deep into the topsoil had done the trick. They’d jumped in to get there first—and fast. The Big Bear Rogues would come up the fire roads as far as they could and then pack in. Those hotshots would knock the fire down the rest of the way.

“Think it over,” Jack said when they turned to head back to the team. “My offer stands, for the summer at least.”

The deafening beat of the chopper coming in overhead made answering unnecessary. The bird descended carefully until it hovered just above the ground, sending a blast of hot, ash-filled air over the group.

“Did someone call a taxi?” Evan roared loud enough to be heard over the chop, motioning for the team to pile in. That sounded good to Tye. Right now, he was jonesing for a hot shower, some food, and his pillow. He helped the guys toss packs through the open bay door, then scrambled aboard, hooking his fingers through the webbing on the wall to lean back out the open door and score a last look at the fire as the pilot took them up and through the pall of smoke, swinging over the mountainside and headed for home. Airborne, they shot through the bright blue of the morning sky.

“We got her contained.” Evan high-fived his brother and settled into a yelled recap of the fire’s trickier moments.

Opting out of the highlights reel, Will Donegan elbowed Tye. “You got your truck back at base? Can I bum a ride into Strong?”

“No problem.” He didn’t feel like being alone anyhow. A ride-along in his cab would be welcome. “You didn’t drive?”

Below them, the dark green tops of pines poked up out of puffy white smoke. If it hadn’t been for the spot fires burning merrily, the scene below could have been one of those Christmas displays with cotton-ball snow.

Will grinned. “My wife has the truck, but she’s not driving it home. Sunday morning mimosas with the girlfriends,” he explained, when Tye raised a brow. “Good times, but I’ll be lucky if she’s walking straight.”

Tye decided not to weigh in on that one. Ten minutes later and Strong came in sight as the chopper neared the airstrip.
Home
.

Just for the summer, he reminded himself.

Don’t get used to it. Don’t put down roots. He’d ship out in September and this would all be over.

***

When Katie got home from church on Sunday morning, Abbie and Laura were already parked on the front porch. They’d had the same Sunday morning ritual for the last four years and nothing—certainly not marriage or men—would change that, they’d promised each other.

“You got the goods?” Laura’s gaze went straight to the plastic grocery bag Katie was schlepping.

“You bet.”

Every Sunday morning, they toasted the previous week with mimosas after church (or drank their consolation prize, as Laura had pointed out after more than one bad week) and devoured one of those tubes of frozen cinnamon rolls. None of them was much of a cook but Pillsbury rocked their worlds.

Since it was her turn to “cook,” Katie headed inside, set the oven and pop-pop-popped the cinnamon rolls onto a cookie sheet. The ETA to delicious gooey goodness was twenty minutes. She eyed the stove. Or maybe she’d give it twenty-three because she was in no mood to wait for the oven to warm up. She shoved the goods into the stone-cold oven, set the timer, and headed back on out to the porch.

“Have a seat.” Abbie patted the Adirondack chair to her left. “Tell me that
you
have stories, because Laura here is coming up dry.”

That was unusual. Between the highway accidents she cleaned up as an EMT and the shenanigans her fellow EMTs got up to, Laura was usually better than reality T.V.

Laura shrugged. “So everyone drove safe this week and the guys behaved themselves. Unfortunately, it won’t last.”

Laura passed her a mimosa made from the bottle of sparkling wine—none of them had the budget for the real stuff—parked in a plastic bucket full of ice by her feet. Asking where the bucket had come from was probably unwise, but Katie was almost certain she’d never filled it up with Pine-Sol, so as long as she didn’t lick the bottle, she was probably safe. Sometimes Laura took practical to a whole different level.

“So we’re counting on you for exciting updates.” Abbie made a give-it-up gesture. “Don’t disappoint.”

“I think I assaulted Tye,” she said glumly.

Abbie snorted mimosa out of her nose and Laura tossed her a roll of paper towels.

“Either you did or you didn’t.” Laura took a swig of her own drink. “There’s not too much grey area.”

“Are we talking—” Abbie punched the air with her fists. “Or...” She blew an air kiss.

“The latter. The former.
Merde
. How come I can never keep straight which is which? I kissed him.”

Abbie and Laura traded looks.

“You don’t look surprised.”

Tye had, though. Right before he’d really, really gotten into kissing her back—and before he’d removed her mouth from his.

“On a scale of one to ten, how hot was the kiss? What?” Laura asked when Abbie smacked her. “That’s relevant information. It leads to the whole
was it an assault or not?
question.”

“I have a hard time imagining Tye Callahan being a bad kisser.” Abbie grinned. “And I’ve had a damned good time imagining it.”

Laura eyed her. “You know, you really don’t act married.”

“Again, I’m married, not dead.” Abbie shrugged. “Will knows he’s the best. When I compare him to others, I appreciate him even more.”

“Whatever.” Laura shook her head and topped off her plastic flute. “Good thing I’m off duty today because I’m ninety eight percent certain my BAC just passed the legal limit.”

“I kissed him,” Katie admitted. “So his skills don’t really come into it.”

Abbie turned to Laura. “How good of a kisser is Katie?”

“Hell if I know.” Laura kicked her steel-toes up on the porch railing. “I haven’t French-kissed her since we were eleven and curious. And, no, I’m not taking one for the team here and repeating the experiment. Once was enough for me, thank you.”

Katie made a face. “I was still better than you.”

“Keep saying that.” Laura grinned. “But I’m not the one worrying she assaulted a guy.”

Given Laura’s blunt approach to life, Katie decided, it was kind of surprising it hadn’t happened already. Laura had no problem walking straight up to a guy and telling him she found him attractive. Or unattractive, an asshole, or just plain in her way. You always knew exactly where you stood with Laura.

Abbie sighed, clearly abandoning the test plan approach. Thank God. “Did he use the
assault
?”

“I kissed him.”

And it was a fairly humiliating memory as far as kissing war stories went. She wouldn’t have minded if he’d seemed to enjoy the exercise, but after those first few moments when he’d almost kissed her back, he’d been... frozen. Then he’d all but fallen off the Segway. So, no, that kiss wasn’t going in the keeper column as far as memories went.

“Did he kiss you back?”

“Or did he screech like a virgin, yelling
Back the fuck up?
” Laura brightened, clearly enjoying the mental image.

“I thought he was
going
to kiss me back,” she emphasized. Didn’t men like take-charge women who made the first move? “Then he backed up so fast that he fell over.”