Play With Fire: Into The Fire Series Page 8

  Within minutes, Fred was bringing the helicopter down at the main fire camp. Willow Brook Fire & Rescue was the base for two hotshot crews and a local crew. I shared foreman duties with Levi on this crew. Cade Masters was our crew’s superintendent. He’d already flown out the day before.

  All told, there were twenty-five of us on the way. Needless to say, we weren’t all arriving at the same time. Half the crew came out yesterday with the rest of us today. There were several fire camps on the outskirts of this blaze. I helped Fred unload the gear from underneath the helicopter. He flashed me a grin and a wink as I turned away. Fred often shuttled our crews around Alaska. His weathered face usually greeted us after a few weeks of grueling work.

  We checked in at the staging area where a crew from Fairbanks was just finishing up a rotation. Cade was busy conferring with their superintendent. I caught Levi’s eyes as he nudged his chin toward the pile of equipment on the ground. With a few calls to round up the crew, we got organized.

  I rested a hand on my hip as I drained a bottle of water a few minutes later, looking into the distance to where flames flickered high in the sky, trees tumbling in their path. We were about to split apart into two groups where we would tackle different areas, creating firebreaks and using the landscape to our advantage.

  I was looking forward to the work, if only because I’d been damn distracted the last few days. The moment I’d realized Jasmine was staying across the hall from me, any mental peace and quiet went up in smoke. I was definitely the moth, while she was the flame. I could easily get burned, and I didn’t give a damn.

  Last night, it had taken every ounce of my discipline not to bury myself inside of her. Yet, for some damn reason, I’d been determined to save that. I couldn’t stop thinking about the feel of her channel clenching around my fingers and the look on her face as she flew apart.

  I was fucking crazy to be pursuing anything with her. Levi would have my head if he knew the thoughts I was having about his sister. Well, they weren’t just thoughts anymore. And just like I had said last night, we weren’t done. I didn’t want us to be.

  I recalled the flush on her cheeks when she opened the door, her hair a wild tangle around her shoulders. Her shirt had been only half buttoned, the sweet curve of one of her breasts visible.

  I told myself it was just lust—raw, primitive lust. Yet, in a corner of my mind, I couldn’t forget that look of vulnerability in her eyes. It made me want to wrap her tight in my arms and make sure she knew she was mine.

  See, that was the problem. When it came to Jasmine, I thought crazy thoughts.

  Someone called my name, and I glanced over to see Levi gesturing for me. With a hard mental shake, I jogged over to his side.

  “We ready?” I asked.

  “Yup. Like we discussed, you take half the crew over to that side,” he replied, gesturing toward the trees.

  Glancing over, I scanned the area. The trees were still a mix of green, not yet burned up. The land angled up to a rocky bluff. Reportedly, there was a stream over on the other side of the bluff. I’d take half the crew to create a wide firebreak, all the way to the stream, and then use that to our advantage.

  Meanwhile, Levi would take the other half of the crew and follow a ravine over on the other side of the fire to create another firebreak. We were following the work begun by the Fairbanks crew. They’d been out here for two weeks and were just leaving, looking exhausted and weary. This fire was fierce in the center, which was miles away from here for now.

  “Got it,” I replied.

  Levi ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “Let’s hope we can beat the wind,” he said as he turned away.

  When you were a firefighter, the wind was usually your enemy. Oxygen was fuel for fires. No matter which way the wind was blowing, it fanned the flames.

  This afternoon and the next few days were supposed to be calm, but then the weather forecast had a few storms blowing through. Storms would bring needed rain, but we hoped not much wind.

  Jasmine was temporarily dismissed from my thoughts, a welcome relief for the moment. I gathered up my half of the crew and we headed out, gear on our backs, hiking into rugged terrain.

  Creating the firebreak was grueling work, and I’d take anything to keep my mind occupied. Jasmine had knocked loose a few stones in the wall I’d built around my heart. She’d shaken loose old memories, memories I preferred to keep in the past.

  Even as I threw myself into the heavy work, at night under the stars, Jasmine feathered through my thoughts.

  I kept trying to convince myself it was just because she was so fucking beautiful and the attraction burned so hot between us. Yet, the memories she’d kicked free told me another story. They told me that she was the only woman I’d met in years who made me long for more than a passing encounter.

  Late one afternoon, into our second week of being out at this fire, I was working with the chainsaw to clear out some thick brush. We’d created a firebreak almost a half-mile wide running along the edge of the trees for miles. We were following along the stream where it widened and intersected with a river.

  “Donovan!” Levi called.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I released the clutch on the chainsaw and flipped the switch to turn it off. Setting it down carefully, I snagged a water bottle from the ground nearby, guzzling it quickly.

  “What’s up?” I called in return.

  Levi and I walked toward each other, meeting halfway amongst the cluster of downed trees. The sound of axes whacking and chainsaws humming continued around us nearby. Levi look tired, precisely how I felt.

  He dragged a sleeve across his face, removing his heavy work gloves and whacking them on the side of his leg. “Just got the radio call from Cade. Rain’s coming in tomorrow, so we should be able to fly out. We’ve got a good handle on the fire on the far side,” he explained.

  I nodded, dragging my own sleeve over my forehead. Sweat ran in a trickle down my back. “Good deal. How far do we want to get today before we let the guys rest?”

  Levi flashed a weary grin. “I’m so fucking tired, I’d like to call it quits now. But we’ve got hours of daylight. I say we get to the river. What do you think?”

  “Exactly what I was thinking,” I replied.

  “Good. That’ll give us time to have dinner and maybe hike about halfway back to the main camp,” he replied.

  We chatted for a few more minutes before separating again, checking in with the crew and spreading the orders for the afternoon. Whenever we knew we were about to finish up out in the field, everybody always worked harder. Being a hotshot firefighter was one of the most physically demanding jobs in the world. The men and women who did it gave a new name to dedication.

  As I threw myself into the afternoon, my mind spun back to another time, only a few years before. I loved my crew here, loved the camaraderie, the honor, and the trust. I trusted every single person on this crew with my life.

  Back in Georgia, my best buddy Bill and I grew up together. We both wanted the same thing when we started volunteering at the local fire department. We left Georgia for hotshot training together in California. Just like my crew now, I’d trusted Bill with my life. Just thinking about him brought a bitter taste in the back of my throat. There were different kinds of trust. I still assumed Bill would have my back in a life or death situation.

  Yet, he’d torn my trust to shreds personally.

  We’d gone to college together, like so many friends did. I didn’t even know why I went to college, seeing as I knew exactly what I’d wanted to do. But I had because I thought I should. I’d fallen in love, or lust, or something like that, with Katie Sharp. She was everything I thought I’d wanted—ballsy as hell, beautiful, and smart. She didn’t bat an eye out in the backcountry. She wasn’t a firefighter, but then, that life was for few.

  We were together for three years in college, and I asked her to marry me later. Because I was a fucking idiot and didn’t see the writing on the wall, it wasn’t
until I came home one night, to the apartment I shared with her, that the truth slapped me in the face.

  Bill and I both were firefighters. When we’d moved out to California, Katie had come with me. After our training, we took jobs on different crews just because that was what had been available. I’d gotten in a day early after a weeklong stint at a fire in Arizona. Coming home tired and wanting nothing more than a shower and a night tangled up with Katie, instead, I found her sucking Bill off in our kitchen.

  To this day, I wasn’t sure which was worse. The betrayal was all tangled up. My best friend for years had been seeing my girl behind my back for months at that point. Or at least that was what I pieced together after asking around. I hadn’t seen Katie since I’d seen her with her lips wrapped around Bill’s cock. The second to last time I’d spoken to Bill had been when I’d hauled off and punched him while his jeans were hanging around his hips.

  The kicker? It was bad enough that my best friend had been fucking around with my girl, but he tried to make it up to me, tried to call and talk. I guess he felt bad in the end. At the time, it didn’t really fucking matter. Not to me. Friends didn’t do that shit to each other. Yet lately, the anger and bitterness had faded. I missed Bill. I fucking missed the friend who’d betrayed me.

  Since then, I hadn’t been looking for love. In fact, I’d flat out decided I was better off without it. After years of being teased for wanting to settle down so young, I’d shifted gears entirely, and it worked out just fine. I’d yet to meet a woman who made me want anything other than a few nights between the sheets.

  Jasmine was different. Maybe it was because she was so damn sexy, but just the sight of her made my cock ache. Sexy didn’t make me think about my bitterness.

  Restless and annoyed at the fact my thoughts were going in a direction they hadn’t gone in years, I kicked away the sense of bitterness. Jasmine, beautiful sexy Jasmine, had unraveled the threads along the tattered edges of my heart.

  I didn’t even think she’d been trying. I knew from her comment about her ex that she was quite familiar with betrayal. All I knew was I wanted to never see that vulnerability flickering in the depths of her eyes again. I could take it because she shouldn’t have to.

  Hours later, I finally got my damn mind off Jasmine. It took a tree almost falling on my head to make it happen, but what the hell? Whatever worked.

  That night in the endless sunset in Alaska, the guys and I lounged on the ground. No campfires for us. Still, we had food and laughter. A while later, I lay on my back, staring at the sky. It was well past midnight, and darkness was finally falling. Stars winked against the sky, the moon rising over to one side with the smell of smoke in the distance.

  Jasmine, once again, nudged into my thoughts. I fell asleep, restless for the feel of her against me.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jasmine

  Rolling my car to a stop, I scanned the area. Midnight Sun Arts gallery was on a boardwalk on the rocky beach, along with a cluster of other shops. Kachemak Bay sparkled under the sun just beyond the boardwalk. Mountains rose tall across the bay with a glacier glowing that otherworldly blue in the distance. Mount Augustine, a volcano that sat sentry beyond the bay, anchored the view. Climbing out of my car, a salty breeze gusted, ruffling the surface of the water. Taking a deep breath, I marshaled my courage and walked up the steps to the boardwalk.

  Diamond Creek was a few hours south of Willow Brook on the shores of Kachemak Bay. Like Willow Brook, the small town was a tourist draw in the summers. I looked around the gallery as I stepped inside, taking in the high ceiling, the bright light, and the soft cream walls. Artwork hung on every available surface with displays scattered throughout the gallery.

  I meandered through the space, taking a deep breath and letting it out with a sigh. I loved being surrounded by art.

  “Hello,” a voice called as the sound of footsteps echoed on the hardwood flooring. “Can I help you?”

  A woman rounded one of the display cases, coming into my line of sight. She had short dark hair that fell across her forehead. It was cut in shaggy layers with a streak of pink on one side and purple on the other. She was about medium height with a curvy build. She wore a loose cotton purple blouse over a fitted black skirt that fell to her knees. Cowboy boots and chunky silver jewelry completed her ensemble. She was beautiful.

  The moment she saw me, she smiled. “Oh, are you Jasmine?”

  “Are you Risa?” I asked in return with a smile. Because if she knew who I was, I figured she must be Risa.

  “I’m definitely Risa. So nice to meet you,” she said, striding quickly to me and holding her hand out.

  Her handshake was firm. She stepped back, her smile warm and her eyes bright. “I’m so glad you could make it, and if you’ve been here for a few minutes, I’m sorry. I was tied up with a phone call in the back.”

  There were other customers milling about. She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Mind if I check in with a few customers? We can chat behind the counter after I do. Someone else will be here in just a few minutes to cover the front.”

  “Of course. I’ll take a look around.”

  “You do that,” she said with a little wave before striding across the room.

  Risa Thomas was part owner of Midnight Sun Arts in Diamond Creek. Amelia, Lucy’s best friend, had connected her with me through her friendship with Amelia’s older brother, Quinn, who happened to live here in Diamond Creek. I knew Quinn, but I hadn’t seen him in years. He was a few years ahead of me when I was in high school, just old enough that I didn’t really know him well.

  * * *

  While I’d been obsessing about calling Risa, she beat me to it. She emailed me the other day and asked me to stop by the gallery. She was looking for more pottery for this gallery as well as a few other galleries she managed with her partners.

  Midnight Sun Arts in Anchorage was one of the busiest galleries there. I wouldn’t have had the nerve to approach them. Even though I’d been involved in the art world in San Francisco, which should’ve been more intimidating, I’d had a few connections there since I’d attended one of the local art programs.

  In Alaska, I had no such connections, and confidence wasn’t my strong suit when it came to this part of trying to be an artist. I walked slowly through the gallery. Risa had an excellent selection with paintings, photographs, pottery, jewelry, woodcarvings, and more. The prices were higher than I would have expected in this area, but I didn’t really have any sense of the local art market.

  I’d emailed Risa a link to my website, which had photos of pottery I’d sold at shows and galleries in San Francisco. I was nervous, and I hated the feeling. Just when I was starting to think the art she had here was too classy for my work, I came around the corner and found an utterly charming and whimsical collection of painted furniture. This was right up my alley. My pottery tended to be on the playful side.

  Risa’s voice reached me again as she came around the corner. “There you are!” I turned to find her warm smile waiting. “Come on. We can actually go in the back now. My afternoon help just showed up.”

  I followed her through the displays to the back. She paused and introduced me to a friendly girl named Kayla before leading me around the counter and through a back door into a hallway. We stepped into a small office, my eyes immediately drawn to the window, which offered a stunning view of the bay.

  Her gallery was right along the shore near Otter Cove Harbor. Aside from being surrounded by artwork all day, she had a simply spectacular view. Kachemak Bay stretched out in front of us. Gulls were swooping and calling along the edge of the water.

  “Have a seat,” Risa said, gesturing to a small round table. “You want some coffee?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  She stepped to a small counter at the back and quickly filled two mugs. I heard the distant hum of some sort of tool, but I didn’t know what it was. Returning to the table, she took a sip and stretched her legs out. She brushed her hair
off her forehead and then cocked her head to the side.

  “So, like I said in my email, I’ve already seen your work online. I would love to carry it in our galleries. We’ve got this one and then others in Anchorage, Juneau, and Fairbanks. We sell a lot. I know you’re probably thinking I’m crazy, but between all of our galleries, I would imagine we would need an order every other week from you. My only concern at this point is whether you have somewhere you’re going to be able to work. I know you were living in San Francisco and just returned to Alaska.”

  I was so busy trying to scramble for purchase in my brain and get my feet under me, I could hardly absorb what she was saying. If she meant what she said, I would basically have a full-time job throwing pottery and selling it. It would be more than enough to keep me in business.

  She must’ve sensed my surprise because she laughed softly. “I told you, we stay busy. It’s different here than in the cities. I mean, I’m sure, dollar for dollar, San Francisco sells more art in a day than we do here. But tourists love buying things, just so they can say they got it here. Local artists are preferred, and it’s a different kind of customer base. You were born and raised in Alaska. Your work is beautiful, fun, and practical. Trust me, I can sell the hell out of it.”

  I met Risa’s warm gaze and felt myself nodding. I couldn’t quite believe her offer and was entirely prepared for it not to work out. She seemed confident but, well, I had a knack for things not working out. I wasn’t stupid though, and I wanted this. So much. I knew I would need to figure out exactly how and where I was going to set up a studio, but come hell or high water, I’d make it happen.

  When I nodded, she clapped her hands together. “Perfect. We really need more pottery. People love it because, aside from the fact that it’s beautiful, it’s useful. That furniture you were looking at out there?” At my nod, she continued, “We sell it like crazy. It’s wild and funky, and just like pottery, it’s practical. When I saw your stuff online, I thought of that furniture. It’s a totally different type of art, but it has that same whimsical vibe.”