Wildfire Sweethearts. Leigh Bale

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      He gave a lazy shrug. “Driving to Minoa, the same as you.”

      “After last fire season, I thought you were planning to move to Idaho. You said you were putting in on a fire control management job in Boise,” she said.

      “No, I decided to wait a bit longer.”

      Wait for what? The job had surely closed by now and he’d lost his window of opportunity. Frankly, she doubted he’d like being cooped up in a stuffy office anyway. He’d always preferred working out in the field, where the action was.

      “So, you’ve been living in Minoa since last summer?”

      Most hotshots like her were seasonal employees, working April through August. But Sean had been a permanent hire with benefits, working twelve months out of the year.

      “Yeah, I took a short leave of absence from work, but I’ve been back for five months now. Why?” A thatch of curly black hair fell over his high forehead. Hair she used to thread her fingers through.

      “Where have you been? Today, I mean, since you’re out here on this road.” It was too much of a coincidence that he happened to come upon her on this lonely highway, wasn’t it?

      “At a training exercise in Utah.”

      Hmm. She wondered if one of their mutual friends had told him that she’d be traveling this road today.

      After all that had happened, she couldn’t believe he still wanted to fight wildfire. But it seemed to be in his blood. He was good at it, too. None better. An adrenaline junkie who thrived on the action. With no family of his own, he had nothing to lose. A man who acted first and thought about the dangers later.

      After Sean had broken her heart, she’d never wanted to see him again. But here he was, bigger than life. And now it appeared that they’d be working together once more. Which made her hands sweat and her stomach feel queasy. If she’d known he was still here, she would have found other employment, on a different hotshot crew in another state. Now it was too late. Because she needed this job. Badly.

      Working on this team would give her the firefighting experience she needed to reach her career goals of one day becoming a fire management officer with the Forest Service. Also, the money would pay her college tuition in the fall. Just one more year of schooling and she’d have her master’s degree in resource conservation with a minor in fire science.

      She took a deep inhale and let it go, resigned to working with Sean again. If she could fight fire, she could certainly handle this. He was on a different squad than she was and she could keep her distance. If she could just make it through the next five months, she’d never have to see him again. She’d finish school then get a job somewhere far away from his brooding smile and penetrating eyes—and her bittersweet memories.

      Without permission, he hopped up into the back of her truck and rummaged around in Zach’s silver toolboxes. Tessa didn’t complain. Over the years, Sean had spent as much time in this rusty vehicle as she had.

      “You got any water?” Clutching several tools, Sean jumped down and sauntered toward the front fender. Tough and agile, his body moved with the feline grace of a star athlete.

      For several pounding moments, her gaze followed him as he propped his sunglasses on top of his head. He looked good. Too good. But he was thinner than she remembered, and deeper worry lines creased the corners of his eyes. Eyes that now seemed so sad and empty.

      She hadn’t seen him in eight months, and it had given her time to think. Breaking up with her so suddenly didn’t make sense. She could understand Sean changing his priorities. Life and death situations had a way of making a person reevaluate what they really wanted. But it had cut her deeply to know that he no longer wanted her. It had also made her slightly suspicious. He’d been cleared of any wrongdoing in Zach’s death, but what if he was responsible somehow? Had he broken up with her out of guilt? Or was he just afraid of loving and losing her the way he’d lost Zach? Maybe there was some other reason she didn’t understand?

      Reaching inside the cab, she retrieved her half-empty water bottle. When she returned, Sean was bent over the engine like a pro mechanic. His expressive eyes crinkled as he squinted against the bright sunlight. Without looking up, he shot a hand out and she placed the bottle in his grasp.

      Copying his manners, she shook her head. He was still the same old Sean she’d known for nine years. Her brother’s best friend. Tough and proud. Never mincing words.

      If only he hadn’t shut her out. If only she knew what had really happened that fateful day when her brother died. After some time had passed, she’d been hoping Sean might call her to talk about Zach’s death, but he hadn’t opened up one bit. As it stood, he’d broken her heart and she no longer trusted him.

      “What do you think the matter is?” She ducked her head and peered at the engine.

      “It’s overheated.”

      “Obviously. But is it serious?”

      “We’ll know in a moment.”

      Wrapping a handful of his shirttail around his fingers to protect against burns, Sean twisted off the cap to the radiator. They both jerked back as a geyser of steam shot up from the spout. He waited a moment until it settled down then poured the water in. Sizzling sounds filled the air.

      “It’s hot, huh?” she said, feeling helpless and out of sorts.

      “Yep, it’s bone-dry. We’ll need some more water.”

      “I don’t have any more.”

      He turned his head and quirked one brow at her, a quizzical expression that used to make her laugh. But not today. Now she felt nothing but betrayal.

      “I thought I taught you to prepare better than that. There’s a gallon jug in my truck. Go and get it,” he said.

      Hackles rose at the back of her neck, but she fought them off. Because she didn’t want to argue with him now, she retrieved the jug. Moments later he poured the contents into the radiator. It gurgled as he screwed the cap back on.

      “Are you ready for work in the morning?” he asked without looking up.

      She snorted. “That depends.”

      “On what?”

      “On whether I can get this old truck to work.”

      “It’ll be working. You’ll be there.” He sounded positive, as though he expected nothing less.

      “Yeah, I hope so.”

      “As soon as you get into town, take the truck over to Grant Metcalf’s garage for a complete overhaul. This piece of junk is overdue,” he said.

      “It’s not a piece of junk,” she said.

      “Yes, it is.” He was too busy tightening bolts and testing the spark plugs to notice her annoyed glare.

      “Get in and start it up.” Sean stood back, holding a wrench in one tight fist. A streak of grease marred his blunt chin.

      She refused to hurry as she climbed into the cab and turned СКАЧАТЬ