Читать книгу Expectant Father - Melinda Curtis - Страница 8

“WHOA! WHOA! EVERYBODY SLOW UP. Big Mama down.” Spider leaped across a couple of boulders just as a pregnant woman with a long blond braid stood on shaky legs.

“Take it easy, Big Mama.” Spider hopped to the ground next to her.

She took a step back, her blue eyes widening at the sight of him. Or maybe it was at the sound of thundering booted feet on rock as the rest of the Hot Shots approached.

“You’re bleeding.” Without sparing a glance at the crew, he yelled, “Doc, get down here!”

Blood spurted over the side of her face, but that didn’t seem to shake her. “Did you just call me big?”

“I don’t know,” Spider hedged. His grandmother would tan his hide if she’d heard him disrespect a woman like that. But the woman was big. And carrying…a baby.

She raised her eyebrows at Spider with the disbelieving expression of a school principal, challenging him to tell the truth.

Spider lasted another ten seconds before he crumbled. “Okay, I might have.”

She huffed. “Were you raised by wolves? Never call a pregnant woman big.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it.”

But she was on the offensive now. “Are you so blind that you can’t see a pregnant woman in front of you?”

Spider took a step back. “Hey, these boulders are ten feet tall. I couldn’t see a bear hiding down here.”

“I wasn’t hiding.” She crossed her arms over her large—really large—stomach, which only plumped up her prime-size breasts. “A gentleman wouldn’t knock someone over, call them names and then accuse them of hiding.”

“I never said you were hiding.” Spider kept backpedaling. Pregnant women, as a rule, made him nervous. Sex was supposed to be fun, not result in…in…that. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay. Doc!” he yelled again. Sheesh, where were your friends when you needed them?

“I’m fine.”

Dang, she was stubborn. He stared into her ice-blue eyes and almost believed her despite the blood trail on half her face. She wasn’t kidding. She thought she was fine.

He took a finger and ran it over her plump cheek, turning his bloodstained finger in her direction. “That would seem to indicate otherwise.”

Cool as you please, she lifted a hand toward her forehead. He caught her wrist before she could touch the wound.

“Aw-aw-aw. You might have germs on those fingers. Let’s have a medic look at it.” He craned his neck around, reluctantly taking his eyes off her. Most of the guys were standing up on the boulder in their Skivvies, looking down on them with concern. Some were yanking off their boots and pulling on their pants. Arms crossed, Victoria stood apart from the rest in full field gear. She didn’t understand that making a game of racing down to the base-camp showers would ease the tension from the crappy day they’d had.

Doc landed on the ground next to Spider with his pants on. Spider suddenly felt a bit underdressed. Air-conditioned, but definitely underdressed.

Lifting her blond bangs out of the way, Doc examined the cut on the pregnant woman’s temple. “It’s already slowing down on the leakage department, but you’re going to need a stitch or two.”

Blond Mama frowned. At Spider. As if it were his fault.

“I don’t know why you were out here hiking in your condition.” He was compelled to say it, although normally, he’d be a little kinder to a damsel in distress, especially one with a bun in the oven. Yet, there was something about this woman that wouldn’t let him be her hero. “There’s a wildfire raging up there.” Spider pointed behind him. “And it’s not safe for anyone, especially a woman as pregnant as you, to be out here.”

She glared at him in a way that made him wonder how she’d ever gotten pregnant in the first place. He could almost imagine her saying “Oh, you are so dead when I get you alone.”

Really. It was as if he could hear that smooth voice filled with playful disdain, as if he’d heard her say those words before or something like them, although he heard a more loaded, sexy undertone in his head.

Sexy? The Ice Mama?

Ignoring her back-off stare, Spider leaned closer and peered at her in the hopes that he’d figure out who she was. She was almost as tall as Spider, and full of chutzpah, not backing down from his scrutiny. They would have gone on staring at each other all day if Doc hadn’t elbowed him aside.

“Give me some space to work, man,” Doc mumbled as he swabbed her wound with an antiseptic wipe and then applied a butterfly bandage.

She drummed her fingers on the huge rise of her belly. She had long, dexterous fingers. Something in Spider’s memory hiccuped. He knew this woman. “Don’t I—”

“No,” she cut him off emphatically, as if reading his mind.

“Isn’t that the Fire Behavior Analyst?” someone asked from the boulder above them.

Spider looked at her again. In her khaki shorts, white T-shirt and sturdy boots, she looked like your average hiker, except for the baby in her belly. He hadn’t noticed she was pregnant, but he’d only been to one base-camp briefing and he’d been at the back of the throng of teams.

Had he seen her somewhere else? He would have remembered talking to a pregnant woman, right?

Well, not usually.

But there was something naggingly familiar about this one.

IT WAS HIM.

Black hair and intense black eyes. All five foot ten inches of sculpted, sexy man.

Not only was it him, but Aiden Rodas had looked her in the eye as if she were some irresponsible, idiotic woman who had caused her own accident. He had filled her nights with pleasurable memories that came pressing back on her now, heating her from the inside out. And he…

Didn’t even recognize her.

While the man they called Doc applied a bandage to her temple, Becca’s foolish pride steamed. Aiden didn’t recognize her. Had he really been that drunk when they’d met? She hadn’t thought so. She should be grateful he didn’t recognize her. It made everything that much easier.

Still, Becca didn’t want to be just another notch on his bedpost.

The baby kicked her belly in Aiden’s direction, a proverbial wave to garner his attention. Becca ran a hand over her tummy, trying to satisfy the urge to shush her little one. There were plenty of reasons why Aiden didn’t need to know of his role in creating this child. But she wouldn’t waste any more time on Aidan. She’d found the Silver Bend Hot Shots and now had the ideal opportunity to figure out what had happened up there on the mountain.

Becca managed to collect herself enough to get down to business. “I hear you saw some excitement today.”

“Man, did we ever,” Doc chuckled. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“And I’d prefer not to see anything like it again,” someone on the boulders above clarified, and received many jibes for their honesty.

Ignoring her wound, her twinging leg and heavy belly, Becca couldn’t contain her curiosity about the runaway fire. “I’d love to hear about it.”

“Is this our debrief?” Aiden asked, a suspicious expression clouding his face. He’d put on the forest-green pants and yellow shirt that was the Hot Shot uniform.

“No,” Becca protested, holding out her scraped elbow to be swabbed with an antiseptic wipe by Doc, unable to keep from making a face when his ministrations stung. “We just happened to bump into each other—”

“Stumbled upon is more like it,” Aiden mumbled, still eyeing her as if she were the enemy.

“—and I’m just naturally curious.”

Aiden wasn’t buying it. He frowned at her before turning away, climbing to the top of the boulder and disappearing on the other side.

“All done here and ready to move.” Doc snapped his first-aid kit shut.

With a sigh of relief, Becca thanked Doc and followed him with ginger steps down the trail, asking about the fire just as carefully. She didn’t see Aiden, but felt his disapproving presence somewhere behind her.

“DO YOU BELIEVE HER?” Spider asked Chainsaw from the back of the single-file line of Hot Shots wending their way the last mile into camp. Ahead of them, he occasionally caught a glimpse of golden hair and a swinging braid through the trees. The two men were lagging behind mostly because Spider was dragging his feet.

“No, as pregnant as she is, I can’t believe she hiked up here. She’s like Super Pregnant Woman or something,” Chainsaw observed.

“That’s not what I meant,” Spider snapped. “She came up here just to interview us personally, before anyone else could.”

“You are so paranoid,” Chainsaw chuckled. “The Fire Behavior team hikes all over the place. They also go on the helicopter and airplane flybys with Incident Command.”

“And it just so happens that we meet her on the trail coming down from nearly getting burned over?” Spider wasn’t buying it.

“Crazier things have happened,” Chainsaw said.

“The trouble with you is, you’re too trusting,” Spider complained. “I bet she missed something in her analysis and she’s trying to cover for it. I think I’ve seen her somewhere before, too.”

“The trouble with you is, you’ve seen too many bad conspiracy movies and now you can’t trust anyone. Come on, she was probably just doing her job. Get over it.”

“You’re a pushover.”

“And you’re jaded beyond belief.”

Despite himself, Spider grinned. He was jaded and suspicious by nature, a product of a father who’d made too many empty promises. His grin faded. He’d met the Fire Behavior Analyst before. Sooner or later, he’d figure out where and when. Until then, he wasn’t trusting her as far as he could throw her…so to speak.

“SO YOU HAD NO WARNING? No wind kicked up?” Carl was trying to probe the crew into saying weather had nothing to do with the dangerous situation they’d found themselves in.

Half of the Silver Bend Hot Shots were crowded into the Medical tent. The other half had already been questioned, examined, observed by a stress counselor and released to the chow line. Becca had been smart to meet the team up on the mountain. The mood in the tent was more like that of an interrogation than a debrief, thanks mostly to Carl.

“We noticed the wind about the time we noticed the flames were riled up,” the broad man they called Chainsaw answered. The rest of the firefighters had grown silent the more Carl questioned them.

“So the wind did blow.” Carl nodded, scribbling something onto his notepad. “And then what happened?”

“We ran like hell was on our heels.” Aiden stood with his arms crossed, only giving Carl half his attention. The other half kept lasering over to Becca.

“And what do you mean by that?” Carl was persistent. Getting on everyone’s nerves, but persistent.

Aiden pushed up his shirt sleeves with sharp movements. “I mean we had no time to stop and take a reading of the wind speed. It was as if someone flipped the toaster switch to on, and we were the toast.”

“You’ll need to head into town for a sonogram and an X ray,” Maxine, the paramedic on duty said softly, staring at Becca over the rim of her bifocals.

Becca avoided acknowledging the ache in her head, avoided looking at Aiden. The way he kept staring at her had her jumpy enough to want to disappear. Her gaze fell upon a woman in Aiden’s Hot Shot crew who had bright red hair and burns on her wrists.

“I fell on my butt, Maxine, not my belly. The only thing bruised is my behind. I’ll pass on the hospital,” Becca whispered back, because other than her head, she did feel fine. That’s all she needed was a trip to the hospital during a fire. She’d be branded as weak and ineffective quicker than she could refresh her parched lips with Chapstick.

Near enough to hear their discussion, the female Hot Shot smiled as if in approval of Becca’s decision. Becca smiled back. The two women shared something unique—both operated in a man’s world where any reminder that they were the weaker sex was unwelcome.

“What about your head?” Maxine snapped off her gloves and put her hands on her hips, no longer quiet now.

It hurt, but Becca would never admit it, or the way her stomach was starting to rumble with hunger.

“It’ll take more than a bonk on a boulder to send me to the hospital in the middle of a fire.” Becca slid off the examining table—almost gracefully—and with a nod in the female Hot Shot’s direction, made to leave. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work. The evening briefing is in about ninety minutes.”

“I’ll need to run this by Sirus,” Maxine warned, clearly not approving.

“Of course.” Becca understood about liability and, if ordered by the Incident Commander, she’d go to the doctor.

But until then, it was business as usual.

“I’m off as well,” the Hot Shot with the burns on her wrists announced.

“Not much I can do for you anyway. Doc did a good job on your bandages.” Maxine patted Doc on the back as she went to greet a man limping into the tent. “Make sure you wear those gloves properly in the future.”

With a brief thank you to Doc for cleaning her up on the mountainside, Becca was out of there, somehow managing to exit the tent without having to look at Aiden again. Her head pounded, her back ached and her ankles were swollen. She’d gotten much more out of the Hot Shots as they’d escorted her back to camp than Carl was getting from them now. The airflow had come from above them, although some had felt light breezes from the direction of the creek. Almost without warning, the winds had come from over the mountain, driving the fire down on top of them like one big blanket of flame.

Becca shivered, despite the oppressive mountain heat. They’d been lucky to have Jackson Garrett as their leader. The Hot Shots nicknamed him Golden because of his knack for reading fire situations before they became deadly. According to Golden, he’d felt the pressure change and the winds stir around him, and watched the flames leap up then retreat in an area above them. He’d given the order to pull back just as the fire had roared to life at their backs.

Becca saw some of the Incident Command team grouping down by the chow line. She’d still have time to check the weather satellite one more time and start a draft of her report on what had happened to Silver Bend before the briefing.

“Excuse me.”

Becca’s shoulders tensed. There was still plenty to do and by now the rest of Incident Command would have heard of her accident, so she had to prove that the pregnant Fire Behavior Analyst was as tough as any man. A bump on her noggin? Wouldn’t slow Becca down. But the interruption came from someone she couldn’t easily ignore.

Becca turned around to see what the female Hot Shot wanted.

“What you did back there in Medical was…great. You made taking control look so simple.” The Hot Shot shifted her feet and jiggled her fire helmet with one hand as if she were nervous. “My name is Victoria… The Queen.” Self-consciously, she touched her red hair. “Would you like to have some dinner? I could use the company.”

There was an informal sisterhood in the fire community. Women helped each other with moral support, advice and a safe place to vent. But the Hot Shot’s timing was off. Becca’s job was calling, her credibility at stake. If she wanted that promotion in Boise, she had to perform above excellent, above what a man could do.

Becca opened her mouth to refuse, to suggest they catch a cup of coffee in the morning, but then she caught Aiden’s disapproving stare as he came out of the Medical tent. His attention seemed to be aimed at both Becca and the Hot Shot with her, which pushed Becca’s nurturing instincts into over-drive. He clearly disapproved of Victoria, who might have approached Becca to talk about how to deal with Aiden.

Becca sighed. Her conscience wouldn’t let her leave this until later. Besides, her stomach growled again; the baby needed to be fed.

“Can we make it quick? I still have plenty to do before the IC team meets to set up their plan of attack.”

“I appreciate it. I need to stand in line for the shower anyway.” The Hot Shot ran a hand over her hair. At some point, it had been in an intricate French braid. Now red hair hung in limp strands around her dirt-streaked face.

The last glimpse Becca had of Aiden was of his frowning countenance as they made their way to the chow line.

The sight made her smile.

“YOU COMING TO EAT, Roadhouse?” Bart asked as he wiped his face with a worn blue bandana and made to follow the rest of the Montana #5 ground crew into the chow line.

“In a minute.” Roadhouse wanted to make sure his son, Aiden, was okay. He’d heard about the Silver Bend crew’s close call on the mountain. He’d even heard there were no severe injuries. But that didn’t stop him from worrying, or ignoring his empty belly and walking on stiff knees through camp looking for his son.

Roadhouse was on a private fire crew—second-class citizens to the likes of Aiden on their Department of Forestry firefighting teams, even though the pay was better in private crews and the work often farther from the front line. DoF Hot Shot crews got the prime jobs on wildland fires, except in situations like this one, where bodies were scarce.

Non-fire civilians might say Roadhouse was lucky to be away from the action most of the time, but when fire ran in your veins, you wanted to be at the front line, with adrenaline and the dragon roaring in your ears. Why suit up otherwise?

Before he’d rounded camp once, he saw Aiden step out of the Medical tent. His heart nearly stopped. Other Silver Bend members were filing out as well. What had happened to his boy?

“Roadhouse,” a deep, familiar voice called out behind him.

Roadhouse glanced around, knowing he had to give Socrates, one of NIFC’s most respected Incident Commanders, his full attention, but unwilling to take his eyes off his kid.

“How was it out there?” Socrates didn’t call him “Old Timer” like some of the kids on the crews, because he’d been fighting fires longer than Roadhouse. He had the gray hair and scars to prove it.

“It’s a sleeper, sir,” Roadhouse stated bluntly. Wouldn’t do to hold back with Socrates. “The fire seems tame, but it’ll surprise us all at the end. You can sense it up on the line.” He could have griped about the gasoline, but Roadhouse wouldn’t complain about having to hike five additional miles to base camp. Back in the early days, firefighting in the mountains was more of a survivalist challenge. A bit of hiking was nothing in comparison.

Socrates stared long and hard at Roadhouse before admitting, “Someone finally agrees with the Fire Behavior Analyst.” Socrates scanned the camp. From the rise where they stood, they could see most of the mess area, tables filled with grubby, hungry firefighters, the Medical tent, the staging area where trucks unloaded men and equipment, and the command tents.

Aiden started up the hill toward them with the Silver Bend superintendent, Golden. Roadhouse turned around, pretending to look up the mountain, hoping his son wouldn’t recognize him with all the grime and his long hair tucked beneath his helmet. Desperate for Aiden’s company, Roadhouse had resorted to dropping into Aiden’s path when he least expected it—only because Aiden would vanish if he saw Roadhouse first. When that happened, it nearly broke Roadhouse’s heart all over again.

“Golden,” Socrates nodded to his stepson when he stopped a few feet away.

Still in his prime and liked by many, Golden was fast becoming a legend. People would tell stories about Golden around fire camps long after he was gone.

No one would remember Roadhouse when he was six feet under, fondly or otherwise, least of all his son.

Hearing a second set of footsteps, Roadhouse turned around with a sinking heart, meeting Aiden’s curious gaze, watching it harden with recognition.

When would his son learn to forgive?

WHAT A LOVELY little family reunion. Spider pulled his helmet off and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Wasn’t he just a luck magnet today?

“You know Roadhouse, don’t you, Spider?” Socrates asked with an arched brow. To an outsider, it might appear that Socrates was being polite, making sure they all knew each other. But every one of the men standing on the knoll knew that Roadhouse was Spider’s dad. Just like every one of them knew that Spider and Roadhouse had a shaky past, if you could call neglect and abandonment shaky.

“Yeah, we’ve met,” Spider answered coolly, wishing he’d recognized his father as he’d walked up. He would have walked on, and let Golden talk to their commander alone. “We’ve come to check in.” This last part came out a little belligerently. It wasn’t every day that a man watched a woman get burned, ran down a mountain in his boxers and startled a pregnant woman, then had to face his father. Spider was dirty, tired and not in the mood for pleasantries.

“Come to gripe a bit?” Socrates raised a white eyebrow. He’d been the Silver Bend superintendent before Golden and had trained many of the Hot Shots in the Idaho region, including Spider. He cut right through the bullshit and didn’t let anyone give him undeserved grief.

“No, sir.” Golden shook his head, ever the politician, spinning his wedding band, a movement that reminded Spider how much his friend loved his wife.

“Hey, I’ll gripe if you’ll let me. But I’d rather hear about the latest on the fire,” Spider said, giving Socrates a halfhearted grin, waiting to see if they were sparring or playing nice.

“I’m sure you could have been briefed by Becca Thomas when you ran her over on the hill today.” Socrates shook his head. “Spider, when are you going to grow up and learn to think about the consequences of your actions?”

So, they were sparring.

“I was just telling him—” Golden began.

Socrates cut his stepson off with a wave of his hand and a disapproving glance. “There are women in NIFC and the fire crews now. Did you happen to think that running down the mountain half-naked might be considered harassment by one of them? Perhaps by the woman in your own crew? Either one of you?”

Spider avoided the Incident Commander’s hard stare, but somehow managed to catch his dad’s disapproving shake of the head. Spider drew his shoulders up so that he was at least even in height to his dad, even if he was still shorter than Socrates and Golden. He’d just been trying to lighten Silver Bird’s spirits.

“Morale is a little low in the field, which is understandable given that this is the end of the season and crews, including ours, are burnt out,” Golden spoke defensively. “What are we doing on this fire? Setting up a perimeter and picking our noses while it gains momentum? Or are we trying to put it out?”

Socrates looked pretty damn grim as he stared at them, which gave Spider a funny feeling in his stomach, but he chose to focus on Golden. “I wanted to pull you onto the IC team, Golden. That’ll be awfully hard to justify after a stunt like this.”

“I don’t want to be part of Incident Command, so maybe it’s for the best.” Golden looked frustrated. “I’ve told you that before and I thought we agreed that my skills were best used in the field.”

“We’re not likely to get much more in the way of resources and you’re good at creative ways to fight fire. I could use some help in planning the attack.”

“Try someone else on our crew, like Spider.” Golden was being uncommonly stubborn considering what they’d just been through, and that he had a wife and two kids back in Silver Bend to consider.

“Ding-ding-ding! Round over. Gentlemen to your corners.” Forcing a grin on his face, Spider stepped between the two men. “We’re here for some relaxation, a shower and some real food. It’d help morale a heck of a lot more than me running around half-naked, treading on the politically correct line you seem to have drawn in the sand, Socrates, if you’d just let us know what help we can expect on this beast.”

The Incident Commander considered them silently for several seconds before admitting, “You won’t be getting much help. Based on the Fire Behavior Analyst’s recommendation, I’ve requested more air support and crews.” He didn’t sound as if he’d put much stock in his request. “But resources are stretched thin this time of year and we’re not exactly defending anything from the fire. There are no government logging contracts or public structures in this fire’s path.”

“We’re risking our lives for nothing? That bites.” Spider scanned the picnic tables below them. A blonde and a redhead caught his eye amid the sea of yellow shirts and fire helmets. What were those two women up to?

“You’ll be happy to hear we’ve solved the gas supply dilemma.” Socrates’ voice dripped with sarcasm.

“A little hiking never did anyone any harm,” Roadhouse added, as if defending Socrates, who sure as shooting didn’t need any defending. The man was tough.

“Considering the way Spider hikes these woods, we’d all feel better if he went from here to the DP in a vehicle.” The severity of the Incident Commander’s tone left little room for argument.