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So he continued to his house and the life that was emptier than he’d ever dreamed possible.
“ARE WE THE FIRST VISITORS from Silver Bend this morning?” Lexie stood on the front porch with plump little Henry propped on one hip. Her smile was dazzling, but as genuine as her little boy’s. Lexie’s brown hair was pulled back into a mother’s utilitarian ponytail. “We just dropped Heidi off at school, so I thought we’d come by to check on you. Did you make it through the night okay?”
“We were fine.” Thea let them in, taking the blue quilted diaper bag from Lexie. “Am I going to get more visitors today? The casseroles yesterday were…interesting.” They wouldn’t need to cook for a week—if she could get the girls to eat them.
“Small town. Half the population over fifty.” Lexie rolled her eyes. “Oh-ho, are you going to get visitors. Each one will dust off the old family recipe.” She shuddered, then sank onto the couch and settled Henry on her lap.
“It doesn’t sound so bad.” Cities were so impersonal. Even at her university, you could pass by hundreds of students without anyone ever looking you in the eye, much less be concerned about you.
“She doesn’t suspect, does she, Hot Shot?” Lexie played with one of Henry’s chubby fists. “They’ll know where she was born by dinnertime.”
Thea was reminded of the relentless questioning from the trio in the Painted Pony.
“So, if you have any secrets you want to keep, practice your poker face and changing the subject.” Lexie continued, “Not that we aren’t fond of them all, it’s just that…well, we love it when there’s a big political scandal to keep them busy.”
“Thanks, I think.” Thea sat on the opposite end of the brown couch, catching sight of Tess lingering in the hallway as she did so. “How old is Henry?”
“Nearly eight months.” Lexie blew a raspberry in his fist, and he giggled. “We nearly lost him when he was born. But you’re a fighter like your dad, aren’t you, Hot Shot?”
“And your husband is a…uh…Hot Shot, too?” Thea was becoming incredibly curious about Logan and his Hot Shot job.
Lexie nodded. “Firefighting runs in Jackson’s veins. He’d be miserable if he couldn’t fight fires.”
Henry sneezed. Lexie efficiently wiped his nose with a tissue, dodging the chubby hand that batted hers away.
“I’m a Hot Shot, too,” Lexie blurted. After a moment of uncharacteristic hesitation, she pulled a jar out of her diaper bag and handed it to Thea.
“Hot Shot Marinade.” Thea read the colorful label. “How cool. Are you a saleswoman?”
“I am Hot Shot Sauces. I’m head cook, bottler and salesman.” Lexie drew Henry closer, eliciting a squawk out of the boy. She laughed self-consciously. “He’s right, I’m taking myself too seriously. It’s just that I’ve never done anything except be a wife and mother.”
It took Thea a moment to sort all Lexie’s achievements—wife, mother, businesswoman. “Don’t put yourself down. I’m even a bit envious. You have it all.” Even though they seemed about the same age, Thea had years of study and work ahead of her before kids were a possibility. In her eyes, Lexie had set the bar as high as Thea’s mother had. Still… “Isn’t it hard? Glen said something last night about Hot Shots being gone a lot. And running a business when you have two kids…”
“Sure, it’s hard. Forget seeing any Hot Shot in the summer for more than twenty-four hours at a time. It’s pretty steady nine-to-five work in town from November to March.” She laughed. “I mean, they’re in town if they’re part of the permanent staff, like Jackson and Logan. But I’ve tried living without him, and it just wasn’t what I wanted.” Lexie grinned. “What can I say? I love the lug.”
Thea found herself grinning back, even though her heart gave a small, envious pang. What would it be like to have a love that strong? “You must be brilliant as well as lucky in love.”
“Your time will come. If you stick around, you can have your pick of the other Hot Shots.” Lexie bounced Henry gently. “Not that it’s easy to catch one. Most of them don’t know the meaning of the phrase settle down. Or, they’re stuck in a rut.”
“A rut?”
“That’s a nice way of saying some of them have yet to grow up. Some got dumped and have sworn off women. Others don’t realize they weren’t put on this earth to sleep with as many women as they can.” She sighed. “Then there’s Logan. He’s always been a ladies’ man, but he can’t seem to get past his grief or his anger over losing Deb. He had a temper before, but now he’s got the shortest fuse known to man.”
Cognizant of Tess eavesdropping in the hallway, Thea lowered her voice. “He’ll be fine with the girls, won’t he?”
Lexie looked Thea directly in the eyes. “He’d do anything for those girls.”
There was an odd sound in the hallway, followed by retreating footsteps.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Thea. I know Logan’s going to need help with Hannah and Tess.”
“Whoa. Wait.” Thea shook her head. “I’m not staying. I’m getting my Ph.D. I brought the girls here because Wes is AWOL and they had nowhere else to turn.”
“They’ll still have nowhere to turn. Fire season is starting. You can’t just leave them.” Lexie’s expression dimmed.
Thea thought about the untouched pile of textbooks and notes in the kitchen, about the physical condition and mental state of Glen, about the bare interior of the house, and two little girls with broken hearts. In her mind’s eye, she saw her mother leaving for good, but not before she wrenched a promise from Thea to reach for the stars and refuse to settle.
“Well,” Lexie said finally. “Things have a way of working out, don’t they?”
THE RED CAUGHT HIS EYE first as Logan rounded the bend toward his driveway.
Red giving way to a slender pair of legs.
Then the other colors hit him. Yellow, blue, orange. The spectrum of the rainbow glinted against the light dusting of snow on the ground and the yellow Volkswagen in his driveway.
By the time Logan got out of the truck, it had registered that a woman did indeed belong to the car. A woman with killer legs and a dog.
Said dog was little and white with brown spots and short fur. At the moment, he was lifting his leg over the shrubs edging Logan’s porch.
“Good morning. Are you Logan McCall?” The woman’s voice was melodious, as colorful as the red denim skirt she wore topped with a bright orange T-shirt. Totally inappropriate attire for early spring in the mountains.
Not that he didn’t appreciate the view. He just didn’t appreciate the invasion of his privacy.
Logan pushed his sunglasses higher up on his nose and emitted a gruff reply. “Yeah, I’m McCall.” Thoughts of coming home to silence, a hot shower and twelve hours of sleep faded. Why was this woman here?
“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it? Not a cloud in the sky.” She laughed a little self-consciously and shifted her feet.
Logan stared at the woman’s bright red sneakers. She’d laced her shoes with little silver bells so that her feet tinkled every time she moved.
He made the mistake of looking her in the face for the first time. She had warm brown eyes that crinkled when she smiled. Somehow, he’d known she’d have the kind of expression that made you want to smile back. No one could drive a Volkswagen like that and not be cheerful.
Something was wrong. He could feel it. Women like this didn’t show up on his doorstep unless… “Where’s Aunt Glen?”
“She’s inside with the girls.” The woman had a way of standing still that made it seem as if she were moving. Maybe she did move. A thin layer of snow crunched softly beneath those red shoes. There was something about her that was…intriguing.
As if he’d heard a car coming, Logan looked down the driveway, taking his time before asking, “What girls?” Part of him wanted to believe she had a carload of women in his house, but he suspected that wasn’t the case.
The dog trotted over to sniff Logan’s mud-caked Black Diamond fire boots.
“Whizzer, no,” she warned the dog.
Logan bent down and petted the friendly dog. Ignoring the woman’s bare, slender ankles that led up to shapely, fine legs, he craned his neck around until he could see the Volkswagen’s license plate. Washington. Last time he’d seen Wes, his truck had sported Washington plates. His hand stilled as the dog danced away.
“That explains a lot of things,” he observed as the anger pooled in his belly, welcome in its ability to obliterate all other feeling. His nieces were inside, which meant that Wes was close by. “Where’s Wes?”
“I don’t know.” The joy seemed to have gone out of her tone. Even the bells on her feet were silent. “I haven’t heard from him in over a month.”
Logan snorted in disbelief. From where he knelt on the ground, he could look up and see her over the top of his sunglasses. She didn’t seem so bright and sunny now. In fact, her eyes darted around as if she was starting to panic. Maybe she was going to cry.
The last thing he wanted to witness was a female display of emotion—from Wes’s girlfriend, no less. When Deb died, he’d locked his own emotions away so their intensity wouldn’t break him.
But instead of bursting into tears, the woman cried out and sprang forward. “Whizzer, no!”
At the sound of spray hitting something behind him, Logan leaped up and away, with only a brief twinge in his leg. His reflexes were sharp after having dodged many an angry bee fighting fires in the mountains. Bees didn’t like fire and they wanted desperately to take their anger out on someone. Snakes, at least, seemed to have the sense to dart out of the way when they heard twenty firefighters moving toward them.
“Whizzer, no,” she reprimanded the prancing dog before turning those deep brown eyes his way. “I’m so sorry. He didn’t get you, did he?”
Logan just stared at the woman, unwilling to embarrass himself by looking for wet spots on his backside. If the little rodent had pissed on him, he couldn’t feel it yet through his grubby pants and boots.
Rather than back off from his stare, the woman closed the gap between them with a soft ripple of bells, grasped him firmly by the shoulders, turned him around and checked him out.
At least, Logan assumed she was checking out his ass. That’s what most women did. And most of the time, he didn’t mind. Not a bit.
But that was before Deb became sick and died. Before Logan became the legal guardian of his nieces. Before Deb’s lowlife, trucking husband had disappeared with the twins because Logan wouldn’t stop him. Before Logan had sunk into despair because he’d let the most important people in his life down.
The woman turned him one way and another, her touch commanding yet distinctly tender. “He didn’t get you.” Her hands fell away as she stepped back.
Logan blew out the breath he’d been holding. He hadn’t been on the receiving end of an attractive woman’s touch since…last summer. He suppressed a groan. He didn’t even want to think about it.
Logan was selective. Ample assets, that’s what he liked. Lots of blond hair—didn’t even matter if it was natural blond—and full, red, pouty lips that whispered with the promise of a night or two of fun. But this woman…
She was thin, small breasted, with chestnut hair that tumbled past her shoulder blades and dimples that only made those crinkly smiling eyes that much more appealing. He could see the freckles dusting her nose because she wasn’t wearing any makeup, not even lipstick. She was the kind of woman who stayed home and baked apple pies to spoil her man upon his return.
She wasn’t his type at all.
“Where’s Wes?” he repeated irritably, thinking that she wasn’t Wes’s type, either.
“I told you, I don’t know.” She hugged herself against the chill. It was nippy out, yet she only wore that thin T-shirt—bright orange with a yellow sun—and an indigo-blue jean jacket over that almost knee-length red denim skirt. Dressed like that, she had to be from California or Arizona originally. Add the Volkswagen Beetle and she had to be a second-generation hippie.
“Wes stopped paying the bills and we got evicted,” she added. She looked at him tentatively, as if waiting for him to bite her head off.
Logan swore. He’d known it was wrong to let the twins go, but he’d been unconvinced that he was the better alternative. “Are they okay?”
“See for yourself.” She spun away with her bells jingling, striking his nerves as she walked toward the house.
“Whizzer, come on.” She opened the front door as if she, not Logan, lived there.
Whizzer jumped up onto the porch with superdog-like agility.
“Are you coming?” She hesitated in the doorway. Sunlight glinted off the silver threads in her red skirt and the bells on her feet. One shoe continued to jingle.
Whizzer stood on the porch panting, as if peeing were an Olympic sport in which he was competing and which required a lot of effort.
Logan almost smiled at the lighthearted picture they made until he remembered she was Wes’s girl, which meant her friendly, upbeat manner was probably just an act.
“They’ve been waiting to see you,” she added when he didn’t budge.
Logan scratched his grimy neck, more than willing to bet they had. The girls probably blamed him for every crappy thing that had happened to them since their mom died. And they had every right to. If anything bad had happened to them while they were in Wes’s care, it was Logan’s fault.
Guilt and frustration pulsed in his veins. Suddenly, Logan couldn’t face Tess and Hannah.
THEA WAS INCREDIBLY RELIEVED to have food for the girls, a roof over their heads, and to have found the twins’ uncle. Or she had been relieved until Logan stood staring at her as if she’d just landed from planet Mars and might be dangerous.
“My name’s Thea Gayle. I’ve been watching the girls,” she managed to say, assuming he was waiting for her to introduce herself. She thrust her free hand in his direction, then pumped his hand vigorously, until she realized how nicely his large hand felt wrapped around hers—callused, warm, comfortable. His friendly grip was at odds with the melancholy expression in his eyes that said stay away, keep your distance, don’t want any.
Against the play of light and green shadows of fir trees, Logan McCall looked magnificent as he hesitated on the porch. Like a young Robert Redford, with soot-streaked angular features and eyes as blue as the cloudless sky above him.
They stared at each other across an awkward bit of silence while Thea struggled for something to say, which was unusual for her. She was seldom at a loss for words. Stories to ease the mood usually came easily to her lips. It had to be those eyes of his, so blue, so sad.
They stepped into the house. The clock ticked on the living-room mantel. Thea could hear Aunt Glen talking to Tess and Hannah in the kitchen. Whizzer circled the hardwood floor behind her before plopping down with a big grunt.
Thea shrugged apologetically, grateful for any break in the tension. “We had quite a time finding you. It seemed like the whole town took us in.”
The gorgeously grim-looking firefighter stared down at her with distant eyes. It was clear that he’d come directly from a fire. He wore a yellow button-down shirt in need of a washing, dark green khakis and grimy work boots. Her fingers itched to touch the Nomex fabric his clothes were made of. It was fire resistant, an advance that she’d explored in a section of her textile studies.
As they continued to stare at each other, Logan’s golden eyebrows hovered low over those attractive peepers, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. She bet women far and wide fell at his feet begging to be lost in the deep blue of his gaze, which was compelling despite his obvious reluctance to smile.
He was the kind of guy who didn’t need anything or anybody. Here was a man who could pick and choose which women he spent time with. And she’d bet Whizzer’s kibble that he was choosy, all right. He was the type who didn’t give her a second glance, with her plain features, plain coloring and plain body. Heck, he didn’t think enough of her to speak to her.
Or it was as Lexie had implied. Logan was too burdened with grief to care about much of anything.
Thea sighed, telling herself it was a good thing that Logan didn’t think much of her, even better that he didn’t need her. She’d fulfilled her obligation to the twins. She had to get back to Seattle and her study schedule.
She slid her cold hands in the pockets of her jean jacket and retreated farther into the house. Thea was so intent on keeping her distance from the man that she missed his question.
“Did Wes treat them right?” he repeated, words heavy with scorn as he pushed his sunglasses back up his nose. “Did you?”
Thea sucked in a breath, torn between an unusual feeling of loyalty toward her employer—even though he’d turned out to be a deadbeat—the need to tell the truth—that Wes was so neglectful it was hard to call him a dad—and indignation that he’d think she’d mistreat the twins.
“If it’s money you want, you’ve come to the wrong place.” Logan spread his hands, palms up, his gaze burning with hurt and accusation. “I’m just a poor Hot Shot.”
There was that temper Lexie had warned her about. Be smart and say as little as possible, she counseled herself. Don’t make a joke of it. Logan McCall didn’t want anything to do with optimism. If anything would work with him, it would be sarcasm, something Thea avoided.
Only, all that intensity directed at her from those blue eyes was disconcerting. And her mouth engaged itself before she had time to heed her own advice.
“A hot-who? Is that like some sort of male stripper?” At his startled expression, Thea continued, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Because I’ve only met one male stripper. His name was Cowboy Temptation, but I don’t think he was a real cowboy. I mean, he wore a holster with pop guns.”
Logan’s jaw worked. “I’m a Hot Shot.” He emphasized each word carefully, then added, “A wildland firefighter.”
Too shell-shocked at herself to answer intelligibly, Thea could only echo, “Wildland?”
“My team fights forest fires. I’m not a city firefighter.”
She smiled as if she’d missed his irritation, as if she didn’t know there wasn’t a city anywhere close to here. Thea wasn’t going to kid herself. Logan, with that icy, wounded reserve of his, wasn’t going to help her get back to Seattle. In fact, she didn’t think she or the twins would be welcome in his house at all.
“Oh, I get it,” she said, playing the dumb brunette because he might be the kind of hero who wanted to come to the aid of a helpless woman. “You put out fires in parks, like Yellowstone.”
“Close enough.” The firefighter chewed on the inside of his cheek.
