Big Sky Baby. Judy Duarte

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      Jeff couldn’t remember the good doctor’s name, but the guy had told his aunt to ease up on him. And she had, especially where Jilly was concerned.

      “A home-cooked meal sounds good,” Jeff said. “Besides, I’d like to see your house.”

      “I thought you would.” Jilly offered him a smile, then grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze, sending a burst of heat pulsing through his blood. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

      Yeah. Let’s.

      They took separate cars, since Jeff couldn’t stay long. But he was looking forward to seeing the little house on Lost Lane he’d encouraged her to buy. It was a fixer-upper in the better part of town, and Jeff had known it would increase in value with a little paint, some elbow grease and Jilly’s artistic knack.

      Jilly arrived first, opened the door, then dashed inside, while Jeff lagged behind.

      The faint scent of ash and smoke laced the air, reminding him of the destruction the fire had ravished on the forestlands outside of town, the job he had to do tomorrow. He’d often flown out with MAFFS, fighting a number of devastating blazes, but he had a personal stake in this one, since it was so close to Rumor.

      He’d no more than stepped into a spacious living room that needed more furniture, when a bark sounded and a scruffy blur raced into view like a miniature tornado.

      “Look, Posey. We’ve got company.” Jilly stooped to pick up the small, scruffy dog. Well, it sounded like a dog, but it looked more like an automated dust mop minus the stick.

      Jeff laughed. “Where did you find that thing?”

      “That thing?” She lifted a brow and frowned. “You’ll hurt her feelings. This is Posey, the best friend I’ve got. Other than you, of course.”

      The ugly little dust mop wiggled in her arms, licking her face.

      She always did like strays—dogs, cats, a guy like Cain Kincaid, whose sole purpose in life was to jump the bones of every woman in the county.

      “What do you think?” she asked.

      About what? The fact she’d finally listened to his repeated advice and dumped Cain a couple of months ago?

      “I’ve still got a lot to do, but the house is coming together.”

      Jeff scanned the mint-green living room, noting the faint smell of fresh paint. She’d decorated the windows with lacy curtains he suspected were handmade.

      A floral sofa and a beige easy chair completed the sparse furnishings, but he figured she could pick up additional furniture later, one piece at a time.

      He shot her an appreciative smile. “It looks good, Jilly.”

      Having a real home had always been a dream of hers, and he was glad he’d had a small hand in helping her buy her own place. “Now all you need is the porch swing and that little picket fence you’ve always talked about.”

      “Thanks.” She put the squirmy dust mop on the floor, then offered him that chipped-tooth smile he found so endearing. It was, after all, her badge of courage.

      On Jeff’s first day at Rumor Elementary, Cain Kincaid had taunted him for being the new kid in their first-grade class. Things might not have escalated, had the school bully, along with a third-grade crony, joined in, cornering Jeff behind the handball court.

      Only six years old, and clearly outnumbered, Jeff had doubled up his fists, ready to defend himself to the death. But from out of the blue, a scrawny, brown-haired girl came to his rescue, butting the bully from the side and sending them all flying toward the concrete backboard. Thank goodness a teacher intervened, but not before Jilly earned her battle scar—a chipped front tooth. From then on, each time she smiled, Jeff was reminded of her bravery.

      They became friends that day, and their friendship had endured through the years.

      “It’s good to have you back,” she said.

      “Yeah, well, under the circumstances, I’m not really back. Once that fire is contained, I’ll be gone.”

      “You’re here now.” She flashed him a smile. “Let’s enjoy our time together.”

      He intended to, even though things had grown a bit weird between them.

      Since they’d been apart and since she’d revealed a few details about her relationship with Cain, Jeff had started to feel something, although he wasn’t sure what.

      At times it seemed a lot like jealousy. He shrugged it off, though, determined not to consider the possibility of romance—temporary or otherwise. Jilly needed someone who would make a home with her in Rumor, someone who wasn’t a freedom-loving pilot married to his job.

      Besides, Jeff lived in Colorado, close to his MAFFS outfit. He thrived on being on call, on taking off at a moment’s notice. And he loved the excitement, the danger.

      There couldn’t possibly be a fate worse than being grounded in Rumor for good, pushing a lawn mower and living vicariously by television on Saturday nights.

      Jeff was a free spirit. And he had no intention of having his wings clipped—by anyone.

      An hour later Jilly and Jeff sat at the scarred oak dining room table she’d picked up at the thrift store in Whitehorn. A vase of yesterday’s tulips and white tapered candles in brass candlesticks graced the worn but clean linen tablecloth.

      She would have offered him a glass of wine, but knew he was a real stickler for flight regulations and safety. So she didn’t bother to ask and gave him iced tea instead.

      They dined on roast beef, red potatoes and baby carrots. All the while, Posey sat near the table, waiting patiently for someone to have pity and toss her a treat. Strange as it may sound, Jilly understood how the little mutt felt.

      As a kid, she’d often waited for a scrap of affection, a kind word, a warm smile.

      Of course, things had changed once her mother died and Jilly moved out of the run-down house she’d grown up in.

      “Aren’t you going to put that dog outside?” Jeff asked.

      “Nope.” She tossed her two-legged friend a crooked smile. “Posey lives indoors.”

      Jeff merely shook his head and went back to eating. When he wasn’t looking, she slipped her furry pal a chunk of meat.

      Both her friends seemed pleased with the taste of her culinary efforts and chomped away. She wished she could take more credit for the meal, but she’d merely dumped everything in a Crock-Pot this morning and let the handy-dandy appliance do the rest.

      Jilly picked at her food. Although hungry, she was struggling with a diet that wasn’t working. She’d gained weight lately.

      As Jeff buttered a piece of bread, she discreetly unsnapped her jeans to give her waistline some relief. It seemed that most of her weight had settled in the stomach, bloating her tummy. Her energy level had dipped, big-time, causing her to want a midday nap.

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