Читать книгу His Only Wife - Cathy McDavid, Cathy Mcdavid - Страница 10

The smell of chicken enchiladas, homemade pizza and hot apple pie commingled, filling Aubrey’s SUV as she drove the main road through town the following morning. From their resting place on the floor in front of the passenger seat, the foil-wrapped food dishes rattled and shook in protest with every bump, pothole and sharp turn.

Buildings and landmarks marked Aubrey’s short trip, most familiar, a few new. The feed store, the one-room public library and Mountain View Realty’s log cabin-style office building were the same as she remembered. A life-size wooden statue of a bear now stood in front of the Blue Ridge Inn, its big paw raised in greeting.

How, Aubrey asked herself, had she let her grandmother coerce her into running this errand? Some of the Hotshot crews, as reported by her grandmother’s neighbor, Mrs. Payne, had taken over the Blue Ridge community center. “A satellite fire camp of sorts,” she’d said, and explained a little about how the twenty-member crews rotated shifts. In a show of support, many of the townsfolk prepared food for the wilderness firefighters, who used the community center to eat, sleep and otherwise relax before returning to action.

According to recent reports, the blaze had been raging in the mountains twenty-five miles east of Blue Ridge since yesterday, apparently started from the smoldering remains of an illegal campfire left by recreationists. It didn’t take much to ignite a fire during the hot, dry Arizona summers.

Originally, Mrs. Payne had planned on delivering the food items. But the two older women got to chitchatting and decided Aubrey should do it. That way, they could work on a baby quilt for Mrs. Payne’s newest grandchild. Aubrey agreed, only because she didn’t have the heart to deny her grandmother the opportunity to spend an enjoyable hour with a friend. And it was for a good cause.

Besides, what were the chances of Aubrey running into Gage anyway?

That’s what you said at the gas station, a small voice inside her teased.

“Shut up,” she told the voice as she pulled into the community center parking lot.

Aubrey had spent every spare minute not dedicated to her grandmother’s care thinking about Gage and his second job. She remained glued to the radio and TV news for updates on the fire. She’d even gone so far as to research Hotshots on the Internet, using the laptop computer she’d brought with her.

Holding the box of food dishes to her chest, she used her shoulder to push open the heavy door leading into the community center. From the number of vehicles in the parking lot, she expected quite a few people to be inside. The actual count was considerably more.

A dozen or so cots took up one corner of the huge, airy room, many of them occupied. Metal chairs surrounded a TV, which sat on the small, homemade stage. Several stations had been created by arranging long tables into Us or Ts, their various purposes indicated by a cardboard sign taped to a corner.

“Hi, there. You bring a food donation?” The woman greeting Aubrey was about her age and looked vaguely familiar. Before she could place the face, the woman said, “You’re Aubrey Stuart, aren’t you? I heard you were back in town.”

“That’s me,” Aubrey said, wishing she could remember the woman.

“You don’t recognize me, do you?”

She smiled apologetically and shook her head.

“It’s been a long time.” The woman returned her smile. “I was Eleanor Carpenter. I’m Eleanor Meeks now. I used to live about a half mile up the road from your grandparents. You played sometimes with my younger sister, Beth. When you weren’t playing with Gage, that is.” Eleanor’s eyes remained warm and friendly, but her smile turned impish.

“Of course.” Aubrey was surprised by the delight she felt at running into a former acquaintance. “Nice to see you again.” She shifted the box of food to her hip. “Are you volunteering here?”

“Yep. When I can arrange for someone to watch the kids, that is.” She took Aubrey by the elbow and led her toward the kitchen located in the rear of the huge room. “Let’s find a place for this food and then we can talk.”

“Is your husband a Hotshot?” Aubrey asked.

“Was.” Eleanor’s smile faded. “He was killed two years ago in a burnover incident when the wind suddenly changed direction.”

“Oh, my gosh! I’m so sorry.” Aubrey instantly flashed on her parents’ late friends, Jesse and Maureen. “I didn’t—”

“It’s all right.” Eleanor reached into the cardboard box and removed one of the covered dishes. She placed it in an empty spot on the counter. “I won’t lie and say things are always easy. But me and the kids, we’re doing okay. Volunteering with the Hotshots helps.” A shadow of grief crossed her face. It lasted only a moment and then she was smiling again.

Aubrey couldn’t help thinking of Gage. Was he all right? Was he in danger? How long until he returned?

Some of the Internet Web sites she’d visited the previous night portrayed wilderness firefighting as a glamorous and exciting profession, the men and women as heroes. They were, but as an E.R. nurse, Aubrey knew better than most the not so glamorous and exciting side of firefighting.

“Hey, Eleanor,” someone called. “Can you give us a hand? This idiot fax machine won’t print.”

“I’m the local Jane-of-all-trades.” Eleanor sighed wearily, though she acted more pleased than put out. “Hang around, why don’t you? If you’re not in a hurry.” She started off, then stopped and turned. “It’s good to see you again, Aubrey. Welcome home.”

Welcome home.

The phrase echoed in Aubrey’s head. Though she had lived most of her life in Tucson, Blue Ridge had been home to her, too. Certainly the home of her heart.

“Thanks,” she told Eleanor. “I think I will hang around.”

Whatever malfunction had struck the fax machine, it perplexed not only Eleanor, but several others. While the group of workers stood over the machine—reminding Aubrey of surgeons and nurses in an operating room—she finished unloading the food dishes and went wandering the community center.

As she neared the front door, it flew open. A large group of Hotshots entered, dressed in dark brown pants, black T-shirts and heavy work boots with thick rubber soles. They were covered in grime, and the smell of smoke clung to them, nearly overpowering Aubrey.

She couldn’t avoid hearing their conversation as they passed.

“I’m going to grab a quick bite to eat,” said one of the tallest of the group. “What about the rest of you?”

Most concurred.

“I’m gonna hit the sack for a while.” The speaker yawned noisily. “I haven’t slept in two days.”

The taller man slapped his buddy companionably on the back. “Take care of that arm first.”

“This?” He held out the affected limb, and Aubrey noticed an ugly gash running the length of his forearm. “It’s just a scratch.”

“I don’t care if it’s a pinprick,” the taller man said. “Take care of it.”

“Yes, sir.” The injured man veered away from the others and went behind a U-shaped station, where he dropped down into a metal chair and rolled up his sleeve. The cardboard sign taped to the table read First Aid.

Without stopping to think, Aubrey went over to him. “Can I help you with that? I’m a nurse.”

He peered up at her, and his face brightened. “Sure.”

She came around the tables and conducted a quick inventory of the available medical supplies. Then she took the man’s arm and examined the cut. It was long and inflamed, but not deep.

“How did this happen?”

“A tree branch attacked me.” His smile widened and took on a new appearance—that of a man interested in a woman. “You got to watch out for those fellows. They’re sneaky. Catch you when you’re not looking.”

She released his arm, giving him the kind and helpful smile she reserved for patients. “I’m going to the kitchen for some water to wash this. I’ll be right back.”

“And I’ll be right here.”

In the kitchen, she found a small basin that she promptly filled with warm water from the faucet. She also found a stash of industrial paper towels and grabbed a handful. Not the best for cleansing wounds, but they’d do in a pinch.

True to his word, the man was waiting for her when she returned.

“You’re back.” He didn’t mask his delight at seeing her.

Aubrey set the basin and paper towels down on the table near him and donned a pair of latex gloves. While she treated his wound, he engaged her in lively conversation. He was a good-looking man, despite the dirt and grime. And he didn’t come on so strong that he offended her with his mild flirting. Another woman would probably flirt right back. But not her.

Aubrey met, and subsequently dated, any number of available, attractive men. With every one, she waited for that telltale flutter of awareness in her middle. It rarely came, and the relationships tended to fizzle out, some sooner than others. Yet one glimpse of Gage bent over a circular saw cutting planks and she’d had enough flutters to lift her three feet off the ground.

“Are you a volunteer medic?” The injured man’s question jarred Aubrey from her musings.

“No. I really just came by today to drop off some food donations.” Aubrey had finished cleansing the wound and was applying an antibiotic ointment to the affected area.

“You live here?”

“Uh…yes and no.” She opted for the condensed version, not wanting to go into her life story. “I’m staying with my grandmother for an extended visit. She’s recovering from a broken hip. How about you?”

He shook his head. “Sacramento. Born and raised.”

“And you belong to the Blue Ridge Hotshots?”

“No way,” he scoffed and pointed with his free hand to the emblem on his T-shirt. It bore a resemblance to the one on Gage’s truck. “I’m with the Sierra Nevada Hotshots.”

“Really? I didn’t know there were other firefighters here.”

“There are four crews working the fire right now. Us, Blue Ridge, Albuquerque and the Tucson Hot Shots. More are scheduled to arrive tonight if the fire continues to spread.”

“I just learned yesterday that Hotshots traveled to different states.”

“We go wherever we’re needed. Kind of like the marines.” A dimple appeared in his cheek when he gave her a crooked grin. “So, are you free for dinner when this fire’s done making the morning headlines, or do you have a boyfriend?”

“I…ah….” Why was she even hesitating? She absolutely did not have a boyfriend, and this seemingly nice, definitely handsome man had just asked her out. She tried to make her lips form the word no. “N-not really.”

“Uh, oh. Too slow.” The man—whose name Aubrey didn’t even know—chuckled good-naturedly. “And the eyes were a dead giveaway, too. Is he with the Blue Ridge Hotshots?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she said, strong and firm with no hesitation this time.

“A wannabe boyfriend? Are you one of those Hotshot groupies?”

“Absolutely not!” She huffed indignantly. “May I remind you I’m holding your injured arm in my hands, and I’m not above inflicting pain.”

His chuckle developed into a full-blown belly laugh. “As much as I’d be tempted to in this case, I don’t steal another man’s girl. But if you ever get tired of him, or he doesn’t treat you right, give me a call. Sacramento’s not so far away I can’t find my way back here.”

“Honestly, there’s no one—”

“MacPherson! You’re not giving this young lady a hard time, are you?” The taller man from earlier appeared, his jaw set in a no-nonsense frown.

“Who, me?” MacPherson pretended to be insulted.

“You’ll have to excuse him, ma’am. He has a tendency to run off at the mouth. You have my permission to boot him where it counts if necessary.”

“It’s all right,” Aubrey answered.

“Hey, Captain.” MacPherson held up the arm that Aubrey had finished dressing. “She’s a nurse.”

“Are you?” the captain asked.

“Yes, I am.”

“Are you a volunteer here?”

“Her boyfriend’s one of the local crew,” MacPherson interjected before Aubrey could answer.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she protested, but no one paid her any heed.

The captain had made an attempt to wash up. His face and hands were scrubbed clean, if not the rest of him. “Have you ever considered volunteering? I’d be happy to introduce you to Marty Paxton, the Blue Ridge commander.”

“Thanks, but no.”

“Wilderness firefighting teams can always use skilled medical personnel.”

Aubrey glanced around the community center, seeking a diversion. Where had Eleanor gone off to? “I can’t. I’m the sole caregiver for my invalid grandmother.” That sounded better than the truth.

Jesse and Maureen’s deaths had done a real number on Aubrey, shaking her confidence to the core. No matter how hard she tried not to, she saw their faces in every trauma patient she treated. Aubrey believed she owed her patients the best possible care. How could she explain to the captain that she feared she might freeze the first time a seriously injured firefighter was brought in?

Thankfully, he took no for an answer. “Well, if you ever change your mind, I’m sure there’ll be an opening for you.”

“And you could always come to Sacramento if you get tired of this place.” MacPherson bounced to his feet and shot her a look loaded with innuendo. “Thanks for the bandage job. See ya around, I hope.”

“Nice meeting you, ma’am.” The captain nodded curtly. “Let’s go, MacPherson. We got a call while you were under the knife. Playtime is over.”

“But we just got here.”

The rest of MacPherson’s complaint went unheard as the two men were joined by the remaining members of their crew. Moving as one, they rushed out the door. If they’d been riding horses, Aubrey would have expected to see a cloud of dust billowing behind them.

“You done?”

She turned at the voice and, seeing Eleanor, smiled. “There you are. I missed you earlier.”

“Sorry about that. I got suckered into making a bunch of copies at the real estate office next door where I work. The owner is good about letting the Hotshots use his equipment.”

“That’s nice.” It seemed to Aubrey the locals were more than willing to assist the firefighters however they could. She’d forgotten how much she liked the we’re-in-this-together attitude prevalent in small towns.

“Someone just brewed a fresh pot of coffee. Can I interest you in a cup?” Eleanor asked. “Or an iced tea? I’m scheduled for my break. We could catch up on old times.”

If the promise of a caffeine pick-me-up wasn’t enough, the hope shining in Eleanor’s face would have persuaded Aubrey. “Sounds great.” She reached into her jeans pocket for her cell phone. “Let me check in at home quick. Make sure everything’s okay with my grandmother.”

Home. There was that word again. She should probably be careful how she used it before someone—herself included—got the wrong impression. Look at the conclusion MacPherson had drawn thanks to one little slip of the tongue.

Why would anyone think she had a boyfriend?

“Have you seen Gage yet?” Eleanor asked after she and Aubrey found a quiet spot in which to curl up with their iced teas.

“Yesterday,” Aubrey answered with forced nonchalance. “He and the other volunteer firefighters are doing the handicap renovations on my grandmother’s house.”

“Mmm. I think I heard that. Funny how neither one of you ever remarried.”

Aubrey didn’t rise to the bait Eleanor dangled. “Not really. I’ve been focused on my career for the past several years. Serious relationships have been low on my list of priorities.” Not exactly the truth, but not a lie, either.

“I can certainly understand.”

“What about your sister, Beth? Has she gotten married?”

Aubrey’s attempt to change the subject backfired.

“Last spring. To an insurance salesman in Show Low. You know, after you and Gage…after you left town, she made quite a play for him. He turned her down flat, which she took pretty hard. Of course, we all told her she was wasting her time. He was never interested in anyone but you. Oh, he’s dated some. I mean, no man is made of stone. There was one gal in Pineville he hooked up with for a while. A technician for the phone company, I think.” Eleanor smiled coyly. “But like you, serious relationships have been low on his list of priorities.”

As it had yesterday on the porch with Gage and her grandmother, reminiscing made Aubrey fidgety. “Tell me about your children,” she said. “Do you have any pictures?”

Trust a mother’s pride in her offspring. To Aubrey’s vast relief, Eleanor immediately switched gears and for the next several minutes they enjoyed an amiable conversation. One that didn’t twist Aubrey’s stomach into knots.

“I’ve really enjoyed visiting, but I need to get back to work,” Eleanor said with reluctance. “I’m on duty until seven.”

“It’s been great. I hope we can do it again while I’m here.”

“Oh.” Eleanor’s eyebrows lifted. “You aren’t staying for good?”

“No. Only until my grandmother recovers.”

If she did recover. The chances of an elderly person leading a fully independent life after breaking a hip weren’t good. But Aubrey refused to dwell on statistics. Rather, she and her grandmother would take it one step at a time.

After a goodbye hug, Aubrey and Eleanor parted company. The TV blared in the background as Aubrey headed down the center of the large room. Men still slept in the cots, some of them snoring soundly.

She was about ten feet from the front door when it swung open and another group of Hotshots entered. These firefighters were wearing navy blue T-shirts, as opposed to black, she noted, and included a woman among their ranks. Knowing they must be tired and hungry, Aubrey stepped aside to let them pass, smiling at their nods and hellos, until the last man stepped through the door.

Upon seeing him, her smile froze.

Like the other Hotshots, he was dirty and grimy and smelled of smoke. Black smears covered his face and arms. Sweat plastered his short black hair to his head. A combination of sun, heat and wind had turned his tanned complexion dark and ruddy. Bits of debris clung to his clothing, and there was a jagged tear in the knee of his pants.

He looked tough and rugged and strong enough to hammer nails with his bare knuckles. He also looked sexy as hell.

The fluttering thing started again in Aubrey’s middle. Only today it resembled propellers on a twin-engine plane rather than butterfly wings.

“Aubrey! What are you doing here?”

“Hi. I…uh…brought some food.”

As a boy, he’d been cute. As a teenager, handsome. But Gage Raintree as a man fully grown was utterly breathtaking.

“Are you leaving already?” he asked.

“Actually, I’ve been here a while. And yes, I am leaving.”

The other Hotshots had moved on ahead, leaving the two of them as alone as they could be in a large room full of people.

Gage took a step back and pushed open the door with one hand, the corded muscles of his arm standing out. “Here. I’ll walk you to your car.”

Oh, no, thought Aubrey. What now? Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The problem was, after getting one look at him, she really didn’t want to do either of those things.

GAGE ENTERTAINED no doubts he would somehow get Aubrey alone and harbored no qualms about doing whatever was necessary to accomplish that end. He didn’t blame her for her obvious reluctance; they had a lot of unresolved stuff still hanging over their heads. And just because he was ready and willing to tackle some of that unresolved stuff didn’t mean she felt the same.

A sense of satisfaction filled him when she finally relented and agreed to let him accompany her outside. As a result, he now had the enjoyment of following her to her SUV. And it was definitely enjoyable.

She wore jeans today. Low-riders. And a snug little blouse that revealed a modest band of creamy flesh. When she moved just right, he could see her belly button. A definite plus. Her short, bouncy hair had been pulled off her face with a headband, but several tendrils escaped, falling into her eyes.

Eyes that watched his every move.

Since running into Aubrey, Gage had dwelled on little else except her. Even the fire had taken a mental backseat, which was unusual for him. He tended to throw himself into firefighting to the exclusion of everything else, which caused a significant number of rifts with his family. To say his father disapproved of Gage being a firefighter was the understatement of the century.

When he and Aubrey reached her SUV, she reached for the driver-side door handle. Anticipating just such a move, he blocked her with his body.

“Sorry about leaving everything a mess yesterday,” he said, leaning against the door. “When I get called, I have to report immediately.”

“It’s no problem.” She dug impatiently through her purse for her car keys. “I moved what I could into the garage, if that’s all right.”

“I’ll call Hannah. Have her stop by and pick it up.”

“Don’t bother. It’s not hurting anything.”

“Thanks. That’ll save me making a second trip between the ranch and the house.”

“How’s the fire? I saw on the news it’s only five percent contained.”

A question. Good. Maybe she wasn’t as skittish as she appeared. “We had a lucky break today with the weather, which is encouraging. But you can never predict for sure when it comes to fires, so I’m not packing my gear just yet.”

“I admit I was a little surprised to learn you’re a wilderness firefighter. When did that happen?”

“About four years ago. My friend Marty recruited me. I told you about him. He’s with the Pineville radio station. We met when the old Hunt Museum and General Store burned down, and he came out to do a live broadcast.”

“I took it for granted you ran the ranch with your dad.” She gave a little shrug. “Since that was, well, that was always…”

“My plan. Yeah, well, it’s still my dad’s plan.”

“He doesn’t like you being a firefighter?” Her eyebrows knitted, then lifted. “I think he’d be proud.”

Gage expelled a long breath. “It’s not that he doesn’t like me being a firefighter, just not now. Between his gout attacks and Hannah commuting back and forth during the week to the agricultural college in Pineville, running the ranch falls mostly to me.”

“And firefighting has a tendency to cut into your chores.”

“In a big way. It’s a forty-hour-a-week job during the season. Double that when we’re at a fire.”

“What do you do when you’re not fighting fire?”

“Clear roads of hazards, burn control fires, training. It’s never-ending.”

“You’ve taken on quite a load,” she observed.

“More so now that we’re participating in the drought study.”

“Drought study?”

“For the federal government. All the ranches in the area have lost a lot of grazing land because of the drought. We didn’t think we were going to make it for a while, and wouldn’t have without the extra income from the study.” He didn’t tell Aubrey how very close the Raintrees had come to losing the ranch that had been in their family for five generations.

“I thought you liked ranching.”

“I do.” He caught her gaze and held it. “But I love firefighting, and I’m going to keep doing it despite my dad’s objections.”

“Good for you, Gage.”

“Do me a favor, will you? The next time my dad and I have an argument, repeat those same words to me.”

He grinned, attempting to lighten the mood and fend off the resentment perpetually gnawing at him. His father bent over backward to support his younger sister’s ambitions, which were in keeping with the Raintree tradition of cattle ranching, but not his son’s.

She smiled back. “Is he really that tough on you?”

“Tougher.”

“What about hiring help?”

“We can’t afford it.”

“I hope you can find a compromise. Firefighting is special. Not that ranching isn’t,” she quickly amended. “But you make a real difference in the world.” Genuine admiration tinged her voice, and his chest swelled.

“Like being a nurse?”

“Firefighting is nothing like being a nurse. You put your life on the line for others. That takes courage and daring.”

“It’s just a job.”

“It’s not just a job.” She tilted her head and stared him square in the face. “I have to say, Gage, you really impress me. Not that I wasn’t—”

She didn’t have a chance to finish because he hauled her into his arms, lifted her onto her toes and brought her mouth to within a tiny fraction of his.

Her green eyes went wide. “If you’re thinking of kissing me, think again.”

“Oh, I’m going to kiss you, all right.”

Deciding this was exactly the opportunity he’d unconsciously been hoping for, he swung her around and pinned her against the SUV door. She didn’t run screaming, which was all the encouragement he needed. He then made good on his threat and kissed her soundly.

For the second time that day, he felt the searing sting of flames licking his body. Only these flames were the product of his own desire.

She didn’t respond initially, and he could sense her struggle to remain unaffected. Gage would have none of it. He didn’t merely seek entrance into her mouth with his tongue, he demanded it. And once inside, he made it his personal mission to affect Aubrey as much as possible. She held out for another few seconds, then conceded with a soft moan.

Mindless of the warm summer sun beating down on them and the occasional passing car or pedestrian, he kissed her over and over. Venturing from her mouth, he tasted a delicate earlobe and the sweet curve of her neck where it joined her shoulder. She shuddered and sighed, and he took her mouth again.

“Enough,” she gasped when he finally allowed her to catch her breath.

Because he was fast approaching the point of no return, he eased back a step.

Aubrey pressed her palms to her flushed cheeks. “We can’t do this. It’s crazy.”

“I want to see you. I think it’s pretty obvious there’s still a lot of attraction on both sides.”

She worried her bottom lip and shook her head. “Not a good idea.”

“I disagree.” Gage’s heart rate had finally slowed to something his overcharged system could tolerate. “Have dinner with me later this week. We’ll talk.”

Her dubious expression spoke volumes. “You’re right about one thing. There is still a lot of attraction on both sides. But I’ve only been back in town a few days, and it’s not like we’ve remained close through the years.”

“Okay, w—”

She cut him off with a raised hand. “I’m not ready…not going to start dating you again. It would be a mistake. For a lot of reasons.”

“Aubrey…”

“I’m out of here in six weeks when my leave of absence is over. And I don’t think either of us wants another miserable parting. One was more than enough.”

Gage was struck by the sudden pain clouding Aubrey’s eyes. Pain because she’d hurt him and regretted it? Or had he hurt her? Truthfully, he’d never stopped to consider the possibility that his refusal to accompany her to Tucson might have been viewed by Aubrey as a form of rejection. Well, maybe he should consider it and consider it hard.

“I really have to go.”

“Aubrey—”

She grabbed the door handle of her SUV and got in. This time, he didn’t stop her.

“Goodbye, Gage. And good luck with the fire.” She shut the door.

He stayed, watching her pull out of the parking lot and replaying the last five minutes in his head. Kissing her had been great. Unbelievable. He didn’t regret it for one second. But it was clear he’d pressured Aubrey for more than she was prepared to give. And if he didn’t want to scare her off, he’d have to take a less headstrong approach.

Fortunately, Gage counted patience as one of his strong suits, along with perseverance.

If he’d learned anything as a Hotshot, it was when to fight and when to back off.

And that backing off didn’t signify quitting.