Lighting Fire

Californian Wildfire Fighters Book One

Leslie North

Californian Wildfire Fighters

Lighting Fire

Blazing Hot

Burning Flame

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

RELAY PUBLISHING EDITION, AUGUST 2018

Copyright © 2018 Relay Publishing Ltd.

All rights reserved. Published in the United Kingdom by Relay Publishing. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

www.relaypub.com

Blurb

Sookie Logan is interested in one thing and Chase Kingston is not it. A fiercely independent helicopter pilot for the National Guard, Sookie is back in her hometown to fly her copter and help fight a fire, not to hook up with some junior firefighter from Alaska. Especially when this particular firefighter works for her brother, the one person in the world who’s let her down the most. The hunk in yellow & tan is off limits.

But when a date intended to just make her brother’s blood boil turns into much more, Sookie and Chase give in to their raging attraction. Both agree it’s a quick fling—something that will last only as long as it takes to knock down the flames threatening her town. Leaving Chase behind will be as easy as leaving her hometown was the first time. No attachments. No regrets. Chase wasn’t looking for a hook-up and definitely not with his boss’s little sister. Besides, Chase isn’t about to fall for Sookie. Their “relationship” is all about the great sex, thank you very much—he’s been burned in the past and there’s no chance of a repeat. No way. Not even if Sookie is starting to get under his skin and he can’t seem to get that little firecracker out of his head.

Just when Chase is beginning to believe they may have something real, the demons he’s been fighting for years come back with a vengeance, making a future between the two as unpredictable as the fire they’re fighting. As the fire rages on, will Sookie and Chase douse their own flame? Or realize they’re meant to face any inferno together?

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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

End of Lighting Fire

About Leslie

Thank you!

Sneak Peek: Blazing Hot (Californian Wildfire Fighters Book Two)

More Books By This Author

Chapter 1

Chase

Chase groaned as he sagged down into his usual chair in the station meeting room. Garrett Wyld, his usual meeting neighbor, reached over to elbow him in the ribs.

"Easy, Wyld!" Chase swapped his mug of coffee to the other hand to keep from spilling any more. Even the shitty station coffee was a precious commodity on a chilly Alaska morning like this.

Garrett just chuckled and shook his head. "Something tells me I'm not the uneasy one. Why the long sigh, Kingston? You get lucky last night?"

Nearby squad members turned their heads, suddenly interested in the exchange. Chase took a sip of his coffee to avoid answering outright. It was a calculated risk, and he lost out—the brew was still hot as hell, even hotter than the blaze at the squad's last house call. He avoided an outward grimace and paid the price as the fluid scalded his tongue and seared his throat.

"Maybe," he said enigmatically. At least his poor abused tongue could still deliver the proper air of mystery . . . despite the cloak of mystery getting whisked aside in the next moment.

"You fucking dog." One of the senior squad members punched his other shoulder, and when Chase switched his coffee from hand to hand this time, he was grinning.

"Ah, to be young!" another lamented.

Chase just shook his head. He had aged out of bragging about his conquests, but he wasn't above receiving the heaped congratulations his reputation still earned him. He just wished he could remember the name of the gal he’d taken home last night . . . not that it made the least bit of difference. She had shipped in on a cruise liner out of Seattle and had already moved on to the next town by now. It had been fun, plain and simple, and that was how he preferred it. He'd show another sexy tourist the sights—and help her keep her bed warm—before the week was out.

The door blew open, and every head turned from Chase as the fire chief entered. Chase may have been the life of the party, but even he knew he was no match for the big boss himself.

"Listen up." Hank Logan crossed to the desk at the front of the room and tossed his clipboard down. He leaned back against the table and crossed his burly arms. Chase leaned forward despite himself. He had never seen Hank's clipboard get the table treatment so early in a meeting. His chief wasn't even looking to it as a reference now. He was looking straight into the faces of his men.

Something was up.

"New assignment," Hank told them. "I'm taking a volunteer contingent down to California. Cedar Springs, to be exact. She's a small town that’s used to the wildfires this time of year passing her by. This latest fire reared up over the past few days.” Hank nodded as if to himself. “Still fairly tame, so it's a control job to help the local squads keep it from spreading anywhere populated. Low risk, but that doesn't mean it won't be dangerous." Hank surveyed the crew’s faces once more. Chase suppressed the urge to look at Garrett. "A call for supplementary support passed across my desk this morning," Hank continued, "and I agreed to it. I want to take some men with me down south. Like I said, it's all voluntary."

"I'm in," Chase blurted. No one seemed surprised that he was the first.

"Could be weeks," Hank noted. "Maybe even months. Think the pretty tourists who disembark down at the port can spare you?"

Chase rocked back in his chair and flipped up the bill of his cap with a grin. "They're going to have to."

"If Kingston's going, then so am I," Garrett volunteered. "Can't let you boys have all the fun!”

Hank nodded. "Anyone else?"

The shouted affirmations came quickly after that. As Hank's offer sank in, every member of the squad suddenly realized that he or she could use a little extra Vitamin D. Once the contingent had filled out, they were dismissed. Chase rose, still grinning, and left at the head of the class. His pulse raced with equal parts caffeine and excitement for what his summer now had in store. Still, one question lingered in his mind.

"Cedar Springs," he said aside to Garrett as they headed for the locker room. "Why does the name sound familiar?"

"I was wondering that myself, and then I remembered," Garrett said as he pulled open his locker. "Cedar Springs is Chief's hometown."

"How the hell do you know a thing like that?" Hank almost never talked about himself. He left the airing of intimate anecdotes to . . . well, to people like Chase.

Garrett shrugged. "He mentioned it once to me when we went out for a drink."

"Bet you he has a childhood sweetheart stashed away down there," Chase said.

Garrett snorted his disbelief. "I'll take that bet." They shook on it, then locked eyes. Chase could see his own excitement mirrored in Garrett's expression. Screw dangerous, this latest assignment was going to be more fun than a summer's worth of Alaskan nights spent in the company of any one of those down-south Dorothys who hailed from the Emerald City.

Guess I'll have to find a girl's bed to warm down in Cali, Chase thought as he tossed back the rest of his coffee.

He was looking forward to it.

* * *

The flyover of California was illuminating in more ways than one. Chase craned his head to look again, his face so near the plane's window that his breath fogged the view. From this vantage, the fire seemed tiny—borderline harmless, like one of those ant mounds the sociopathic neighbor kid managed to find and ignite first thing every summer.

Thinking about how the outlying homes below resembled ants, though, put things into perspective.

The local squads were doing a good job of keeping the fire contained, even taking this year's persistent drought into account. Chase looked forward to meeting the guys on the ground and learning a trick or two to take back home with him.

What he looked forward to even more was meeting the local talent. Garrett wouldn't stop cutting him amused glances throughout the flight, and Chase wondered if his planned extracurricular activities were obvious on his face. Hank had yet to say anything about it, anyway. Hank likely didn't give a shit where Chase stuck his dick, hometown or no.

Chase was glad Hank hadn't made a comment yet. As much as Chase might enjoy his playboy reputation when the rest of the squad called him out on it, he wanted the chief to take him seriously. That was why he’d so readily volunteered for the contingent. He may be green, but he wasn't just another young and reckless meathead, and he was determined to prove it . . . even if his ego wouldn't allow him to admit outright that he sought Hank's approval.

It was a position Chase had vowed long ago never to let himself be in again. It wasn’t that he looked to the chief to fill the parental void his father had left. Hank wasn't that much older than he was, anyway. If the chief thought he was a fireman to reckon with, then everyone would think he was worthy of his spot on the squad, and he could forget about having to prove himself. If he couldn't tell his father where to shove his constant criticism, he could shove it to the back of his mind now, which was the next best thing . . . probably. He was confident that any private questions he had about his own ability would also vanish in an instant. It was therefore imperative he pull his weight on this mission.

But thoughts of the mission's importance flew from his mind the moment the plane grounded. Hank disembarked first, then Garrett and the rest, with Chase trailing at the rear . . . but if he hadn't been last, then he might not have seen the pilot stepping down from the Black Hawk across the tarmac. He had watched the helicopter touch down beautifully, every sleek angle controlled and exact. Its prop blades cut the air in hypnotic, ever-slowing sweeps. National Guard, Chase thought idly.

Then the pilot removed her helmet, and shook out her hair.

And Chase was in love.

Even the wrinkled flight suit couldn't hide her slender frame—and her curves. The built-in elastic hugged her tiny waist, showing off its trimness like a corset. The woman herself was tiny—or at least, she was the most diminutive thing walking around the tarmac that day. Currently, she was conferring with what appeared to be her crew chief, leaning occasionally to check a point of interest beneath the undercarriage. Her chocolate hair was cut short above her shoulders, hanging away from her high cheekbones in gorgeous natural waves every time she tilted her head to make an assessment.

Chase glanced behind him. Garrett was conversing with one of the tarmac staff, his duffle bag hanging off one shoulder. Hank and the rest were nowhere to be seen. The chief had probably gone into the terminal first thing to find the people in charge.

Chase slung his own bag over his shoulder and sauntered across the landing strip to the Black Hawk. The pilot was leaning into the cockpit and rummaging around for something. He enjoyed the view for a moment, then cleared his throat to signal he was behind her. It was the polite thing to do, even if manners had escaped him initially. "Afternoon," he said in greeting.

The woman turned toward him. She wore a pair of reflective aviators, and Chase was thankful for the opportunity to check his reflection in them. He looked good: tall, broad-shouldered, amicable lopsided smile, and the spark of dangers yet to be conquered in his gaze. He hadn't had time for a buzz before they’d shipped out, but his close-cropped hair looked better when it was slightly untidy, anyway. He understood the effect he had on women and objectively knew how good he looked, whether he was in or out of uniform. Time to put his famously irresistible baby blues to good use.

"Nice landing." He let his eyes travel her curves, broadcasting his interest in no uncertain terms. He wanted her to know he appreciated more than just her remarkable flying skill. What else can those hands of yours take hold of and pilot?

The girl's eyebrows made an appearance from behind her aviators as if she had heard every word of his telepathic follow-up. "Sorry, hotshot. Not interested."

Chase watched her walk away, too speechless to think of a quick way to salvage his confidence. The gouge she had just cut in his ego could give the Mariana Trench a run for its money.

"Ouch." Garrett draped a heavy arm over his shoulder, but Chase was quick to shake it off again. "Shoot and miss, Hotshot. Try waiting until we're actually in town next time before scoring."

Wonder if the Ice Queen is going to stick around? Chase thought as he watched her curvaceous figure recede into the distance. I know one fireman who wouldn’t mind bringing the thaw.

Chapter 2

Sookie

Dyna's Diner and Delicatessen was still the social hub of Cedar Springs. The locals came and went like clockwork, and it was rare to see a new face—and that was just the way Sookie Logan preferred it. She stood in the parking lot, hands in her pockets, staring up at the candy-red exterior of the streamliner diner. Though freshly painted, it was smaller than she remembered.

Or maybe she was just bigger than she remembered.

It had been an easy decision to head to Dyna's today after completing her first successful survey. Flying made her ravenous, and confrontations with handsome, cocksure men doubly so. Try as she might, she couldn't get the firefighter with the confident, boyish grin out of her mind. When he had come loping across the landing strip to meet her, she had nearly broken one of her most important cardinal rules and actually given him the time of day.

Men. They were like stray cats. Let them paw the door open once, and suddenly you're existing side-by-side with another life you're committed to, beholden to. Funny thing, the arrangement never seemed to go both ways; in both scenarios, the tomcat came and went as he chose, lavishing affection when it suited him. Jason might have been the only exception to the rule . . . but she didn't let herself think about her ex when she could help it.

The little bell over the diner door chimed as she entered, and even that was familiar. Sookie smiled to herself before schooling her expression as she made her way over to the diner's long bar. She found her usual stool empty and smiled again despite herself. She sat down.

Dyna, the diner's proprietor and cook, walked out of the kitchen, dabbing the perspiration from her forehead with a corner of her apron. She froze when she saw Sookie. Sookie's grin broadened, and she waved. So much for trying to fool Dyna. She had half-considered pretending to be a tourist stopping off on her way to the Coast, but it was obvious from the way Dyna's jaw dropped that six years wasn't that long an absence. Sookie may have felt like a different person, but maybe she hadn't changed as much outwardly as she’d thought.

"Sookie!" Dyna exclaimed. Several local heads turned, and shuttered eyes lit up in recognition of the name. Sookie leaned back on her stool, drumming her fingers on the counter, meeting everyone's curious look but holding no one's gaze.

"Heya, Dyna."

"Don't 'heya, Dyna' me! C'mere, you!" Dyna bustled around the counter, and Sookie rose obediently to receive her hug. Dyna still gave the best hugs: long and strong and bosomy, and she smelled like the cherry pie filling she made fresh herself.

Sookie drew in a long breath, sighing it out contentedly as they broke apart.

Dyna swiped at her eyes.

"It's good to be home," Sookie said as Dyna walked back behind the counter. "How are things?"

"Oh, you know. Same old, same old." Dyna flapped a hand, but in the next moment, she was leaning eagerly forward on the counter, her other hand fisted in the crease of her substantial waist. That pose, too, Sookie remembered fondly. "But what about you? Where you been all this time, Sookie?"

"I joined the National Guard," Sookie volunteered. Dyna, appearing to remember herself, turned to pour Sookie a cup of coffee, fresh and dark from the pot, as she spoke. "Been with them two years now. I'm in town to help with the fire. I'm air support." She couldn't help the warm bubble of pride that swelled in her as her ears registered her own explanation, but she kept cool outwardly. She knew very few overeager pilots—live ones, anyway.

"Well, now ain't that something?" Dyna declared. The bubble in Sookie doubled, no, tripled, in size. Dyna slid the mug of coffee her way, and Sookie tried to come up with something properly modest to say. Dyna was already moving on. "How'd your brother take the news? Bet he's never been prouder!"

The bubble burst.

"I . . . haven't really been in touch with Hank," Sookie admitted as Dyna took her menu away. No need to waste words on ordering when she always got the same thing: strawberry pancakes with a side of homegrown honey instead of syrup.

"That's a shame." She could see Dyna’s disapproval, even if the woman didn't appear exactly surprised.

"I ran into him in Alaska a few years ago," Sookie said quickly. "We just . . . we don't talk much. After what happened."

Dyna's grimace was now sympathetic. She reached across the bar and patted Sookie on one wilted shoulder. "Why don't I get you those pancakes," she said. "Local discount." Sookie nodded gratefully as the older woman disappeared back through the swinging doors of the kitchen.

Once Dyna had gone, Sookie leaned back on her stool, both hands wrapped around her coffee mug, and breathed another contented sigh. She had known her return to town would raise questions about Hank, but knowing didn't make navigating those conversations any easier. Her brother's movements in the world were as mysterious to her as they were to anyone who asked after him, yet she was still expected to keep close tabs on him. That's what family was for, right?

Any normal, well-adjusted family, anyway.

"How's the coffee?" Dyna asked as she returned. Sookie realized she was grimacing, and quickly changed her expression to one of absolute caffeinated enchantment. It wasn't hard—she had flown all around the world and had never tasted a cup that was its equal, and she told Dyna as much now. "Oh, stop it, you!" Dyna swatted her affectionately as she placed a steaming-hot pile of pancakes in front of her. Sookie's mouth watered at the sight. "You been by to see Lana yet?"

"I was thinking about it," Sookie hedged. She picked up the honey and drizzled sweet liquid gold all over her short stack until the cakes were completely gilded. Then she dove headfirst into her breakfast.

Dyna passed her a napkin, and the disproving look was back. "You ought to go see her." It came on stronger than a suggestion. "I'm sure she'd love to hear all about how you're getting on in the world." And I'm sure she'd love to hear all about Hank was the unspoken follow-up—or at least, Sookie imagined it was.

Hank and Lana had dated seriously all through high school. Everyone in Cedar Springs had every expectation that the golden couple would get hitched right after graduation, and none had expected it more than Lana herself.

Things hadn't worked out that way, to say the least.

Sookie wondered if it could be possible that Lana still loved Hank, even after all this time. What was Lana still doing living in this damn town? Waiting for a miracle? Waiting to wake up one morning to find her brother, Michael, still alive, and Hank in the driveway with his old firebird-red Buick? If she visited Lana, what sort of woman was she likely to meet after all these years?

Sookie shook her head to clear it, but Dyna interpreted it differently. "Sookie," she said with a new weight in her voice. "You owe her a visit. If it's going to be one of you Logans, it may as well be you."

"I agree," Sookie said. She took another swig of hot coffee, relishing the fire that raced down her throat and ignited a little extra courage in her heart. "It will be good to see her."

"She's as beautiful as ever." Dyna sighed wistfully. "So are you, dear. Sakes alive, you bloomed right on up like a rare mountain flower. I swear I don't know what magic's in the water around here, but I gotta get me some."

"From where I'm sitting, it looks like you've had plenty." Sookie grinned and received another affectionate swat. "Hasn’t anyone flirted with you yet today, Dyna? I'll flirt with you."

"You Logans!" Dyna exclaimed again, this time with an appreciative laugh. "Bunch of charming rascals at heart! I never knew whether to give you an extra kiss of cocoa or a good swift kick in the ass."

No one did, Sookie reflected. "I seem to remember a lot of cocoa," she said aloud. "The diner always felt like a nice place to us." To get away from home. "We were always happy here."

"Well, the diner's happy to have you home. And I know Lana would be, as well. She always liked you, you know," Dyna confided as she started collecting dishes.

"I always liked her," Sookie muttered. It was true. Though Sookie was younger, Lana had never treated her like a pesky little sister or a thorn in her relationship with Hank that she was forced to bear. Hell, she had been one of the few constants in Sookie's life, until Hank's shitty decisions had ripped Lana away from her. "I guess I just assumed she'd rather not see me," she concluded. "Not after everything."

"Only one way to find out!" Dyna said brightly.

Sookie nodded. If she could fly a Black Hawk over a raging fire, she could drag her ass over to Lana Sweet's and try to make things right by her—even if it was her brother who owed the biggest apology of all. But if you were going to wait on Hank Logan to come back around and make reparations for all the damage he had done, then you might as well sit tight and start counting the years.

Like poor Lana.

The bell chimed, and a blast of heady mountain air came into the room. Several seconds later, a dish dropped, rattling several revolutions on the floor before stilling. The dish had fallen out of Dyna's hands.

Sookie gazed in alarm at the older woman. Was she having some sort of fit? She quickly ran through a short list of physical symptoms, but she couldn't identify anything responsible for Dyna's complete upright catatonia. Then, suddenly, the spell was broken, and Dyna gasped. "Well, if it isn't the hand of God himself, I don't know what is!"

Sookie turned slowly on her stool. Agonizingly slow. The movie-murderer-is-standing-directly-behind-you-slow. She knew by the astonished tone of Dyna's voice what she was about to see, but she still couldn't fully wrap her head around it when she finally saw it.

It was her brother, Hank, standing in the doorway to the diner, so tall she was surprised he had avoided hitting his head on the little bell.

Two other men ducked in behind Hank. She watched as the first removed his cap, then the second man. It was the last man's face that completed the one-two punch to Sookie's stomach. Standing beside her brother was the would-be Romeo from the tarmac, looking more delicious than Dyna's strawberry pancakes. She could all-too-easily imagine the abs stacked beneath his T-shirt, and what it would be like to lick her way down them . . . with a drizzle of honey, of course. She practically had to drag her eyes kicking and screaming away from looking at him, and that was with her brother still standing there, surveying Dyna's like a lord, as if it was a domain he intended to retake for some distant kingdom.

Hank's eyes locked with Sookie's.

She raised her hand in a cool wave, sparing no grease in the elbow. She let the hand drift back down to the counter as Hank crossed the short distance to her stool. The two men standing behind him exchanged a look of confusion before following; Sookie noted that Romeo's confusion seemed tinged with embarrassment, maybe even a little panic. She couldn't deny it was a cute look . . . and one she was feeling more than passingly sympathetic to at the moment.

She didn't stand to receive a hug like she had with Dyna. Hank froze a moment, hovering over her, but then relaxed his posture. His hands slipped comfortably into the front pockets of his jeans. Sookie noted mentally that she had the same habit, and she wondered if she had picked it up from him.

She would have to work at breaking it. Later.

"Hey, Sook . . ." Hank began.

The entire diner held its breath.

Chapter 3

Chase

Sook.

So that was the Ice Queen's name. Chase marveled at it, tasted it, turned it over in his mind.

Okay, so it was kind of a weird name. But he could work with weird.

The three of them—he and Garrett, with Hank at the front—stood around the occupied bar stool, but the woman refrained from rising. Chase hadn't caught onto it immediately, but he understood now: This is an awkward situation. He had managed to avoid most situations like this in his personal life simply by being charming, or so he told himself. Hank was a hard-ass with almost zero outward charm that Chase could perceive . . . hence, the unpleasant reunion they were all being forced to live through right now.

Hey, Sook.

"Well, hello there, Hand of God," the pilot said. The retort would have flown over Chase’s head completely had he not heard what the woman behind the counter had whispered on seeing Hank enter. "In town for a visit? That's unlike you."

Hank shifted beside him, and Chase almost did a double take. Was his chief actually uncomfortable right now? "Business," Hank corrected. "I'm here with a volunteer contingent to help with the fire."

"That makes two of us," the woman replied, and turned back around on her stool. Chase couldn't stand it; he was itching to say something, to make himself stand out in the frigid exchange. It was driving him crazy, not knowing if she recognized him or not. Maybe he had only imagined the astonished look in her eye a moment ago when her gaze had leapfrogged to him.

Only one way to find out.

"Nice to meet you, Sook." Chase stepped forward and took a pair of defibrillators to the dead conversation. He could tell that his immediate neighbors were alarmed by the intrusion, even though he had been standing there the entire time.

The pilot swiveled back around on her stool. "Don't call me Sook," she snapped. "It's Sookie."

"Sookie." That made more sense as a name, he supposed. "Chase Kingston." He extended his hand. He had already decided to ignore the defensive tone in her voice. He understood on some level that while it was directed at him, it wasn't actually meant for him . . . yet. After a split second of contemplation, she accepted his hand, shaking it firmly. She hadn't warmed, exactly, but seemed more willing to give him the time of day, knowing her harsh greeting hadn't scared him off. "Hank, why didn't you tell us the world's most beautiful woman was hiding out in Cedar Springs?" It seemed a safe enough compliment, considering he had no idea how his chief might be connected to this woman. She may very well be the mysterious childhood sweetheart Chase was betting on.

"I suppose 'world's most beautiful' is subjective," Hank said, "especially considering the hand you won't quit shaking belongs to my kid sister."

Holy shit. This was Sookie Logan. Hank's sister. How had he not put two and two together until now?

Sookie was watching Chase's reaction play out across his face, amusement plain in her expression. He pulled his hand a little too quickly from hers and was gratified to see that she almost looked disappointed. "That's right. I'm Sookie Logan,” she said. “It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"That's not the impression you gave me earlier," Chase said. He saw Sookie cut him a quick, steely look, and he was happy that he hadn't just been imagining things back on the tarmac. Then she smoothed her expression the next instant before Hank might notice.

"The two of you have met before?" Garrett's voice was all astonishment, and Chase almost turned around to deck him one in the chest. For Christ's sake, tone down the overacting, Wyld.

"Yeah, they met before." Hank appeared uncertain of his own claim, but continued. "She stopped over in Alaska some time back. That was before you were with us, Garrett."

"My hair was longer then," Sookie said forgivingly.

Chase felt like a complete moron for not placing her sooner, especially considering she really was one of the most striking women he had ever met. He tried to call up a picture of the kid sister he had seen from a distance in Alaska—and wasn't disappointed. Sookie really had grown up since then; she had a tighter body now, for one thing, and seemed more confident in her own skin. He supposed flying aircraft and being dead sexy as hell probably had something to do with the poised way she carried herself.

The way she was looking at him now, too, made him think he wasn't the only one who had overlooked a lot on her visit. "You didn't remember me, either," Chase said, guessing.

"I remember you now. You were one of the new recruits." Sookie actually blushed at this. The warm color that suffused her cheeks struck him as startlingly girlish. He wasn't one to call grown women adorable, but damn . . . she was adorable. "You've packed on some muscle since then."

"I have. Thanks for noticing." Hank cleared his throat, and Chase raced on. "So . . . you're with the National Guard?" He gestured to Sookie's gear, and she glanced down at herself. When her face resurfaced, that sassy little eyebrow was raised at him again, the same way it had been back on the tarmac.

"Well, I'm not dressed for an early Halloween," she replied, and Chase had a feeling she was being merciful. He imagined that beautiful women in the National Guard, like the beautiful women who occasionally fought fires alongside him, were used to their credentials being questioned by the meatheads they worked with—if not the more ungrateful civilians they worked so tirelessly to save.

"You're our air support, then," he said.

"Very astute of you," Sookie replied in mock astonishment.

"If astute girl like you thinks so," Chase replied humbly. He heard Garrett clear his throat behind him, but he wasn't looking to impress Garrett with his pun.

He was surprised when Sookie laughed, a full-throated, bell-like sound—not like the tiny bell that hung above the diner door, but like a heavenly instrument. He liked the way her head fell back, liked the way the appreciative smile bloomed across her face—fuck, he liked it all. Especially the part where it was his lame pickup line that amused her.

Hank crossed his arms. Chase, suddenly reminded that he was flirting with his chief's sister, under his chief's direct supervision, realized he might have made an error in judgment. But he couldn't stop himself now, not when Sookie was looking at him with those gorgeous blue eyes full of wry expectation, waiting to see how far he would push it. Damn it, but beautiful was a powerful intoxicant.

"You know, guys in our squad have a name for girls like you," he said.

"Really," said Sookie. "And what do you call girls like me?"

"Angels," he replied. "You watch over us, but you're always flying just out of reach."

Hank cleared his throat again. Loudly.

Sookie was staring at Chase, her look of amusement suddenly turned to contemplation, but she snapped out of it the moment her brother interrupted the pause. "Well, Fireman Chase, I appreciate the sweet comparison. But I can guarantee you've never met a girl like me."

"Are we counting the time we met before?" Chase inquired, but Sookie just chuckled and shook her head as she slid off her stool. As she walked past the three of them, she let her finger trail along the front of his T-shirt to the squad logo sewn over his left pec. His stomach muscles tensed at the touch, and his blood started pumping. He watched Sookie Logan breeze back out the door of the diner, already familiar with the slight sashay in her step.

He was a lucky man, getting to watch her walk away from him twice in one day.

A luckier man wouldn't let her walk away a third time.

Hank clapped him on the back. Hank tended to use more force than the average person, but Chase thought there was something especially ominous about the strength behind this gesture. "Eyes on the prize, Kingston," Hank advised. "And off my little sister's ass."

Chapter 4

Sookie

Chase Kingston was a distraction she didn't need right now.

Even as Sookie mounted the steps to Lana's house, days later, heart lodged in her throat and palms sweating, her latest encounter with the cocky firefighter was never far from her thoughts. She couldn't believe he'd had the nerve to flirt with her in front of Hank—and if she was being honest with herself, she found it sexy as hell he had brazenly put it all on the line for her that way. She had never met a man willing to brave the wrath of her brother, especially not one of his subordinates . . . if she was being honest.

Sookie decided to stop being honest with herself where Chase Kingston was concerned. It could never happen, and what's more, she didn't want it to happen. Not really. Not the logical part of her brain, anyway.

Where was that located, again?

She and Raj, her copilot, had spent the last several days assisting Frank in the daily maintenance of her bird. The crew chief was borderline romantically involved with the Black Hawk, but then again, so was she. Frank was old, and around humans, completely impatient and ornery, but he still struck her as probably having been the kind of kid who would have grown up fitting together model airplanes in his garage. He never seemed to take for granted that one of his jobs was to piece together and maintain the real thing now, even though he had been doing it for decades.

"I've been getting a funny vibration from where the foam tanks release all morning," she had told him. They had spent hours together poring over it, fiddling with it, until night fell and they had to call it a day.

"Keep an eye on her when she's in the air again," Frank grunted. "That vibration comes back, I want you back down here pronto. And keep an eye on her when you're taking off, too. Looked a bit wonky the last few times I watched from the ground. Unless you're getting careless, Logan?"

In summary, she had enough on her plate to worry about. She hadn't expected her brother to factor into her homecoming, and she really hadn't expected to be hovering her fist over his ex's door, as nervous as she had been the day she first took the Black Hawk up without an instructor. This was Lana, for fuck's sake. The woman couldn't have changed that much in the intervening years, could she?

Sookie rapped on the door and let her hand drop to her side, relaxing her fist. She held her breath.

She saw the exact moment recognition set in.

Lana's eyes rounded in disbelief. Any other person would have probably looked like a goldfish deprived of water in that moment, but Lana's shocked expression was even more endearing than the contemplative look she usually wore.

"Sookie!" Lana exclaimed. She held her arms out instinctively for a hug.

Sookie exhaled a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding—which turned out to be a mistake, because in the next instant, Lana was on the porch with her, squeezing her hard enough to collapse her lungs. Sookie did manage enough air to laugh, and the sound was one of relief.

"Lana Sweet. I do declare."

"You have a lot to declare," Lana replied. "Get in here, girl! I just brought the sun tea in from the porch. Can I interest you in a glass?"

"You know it." Sookie followed Lana inside. The house was a cute little one-story, with as many flowers growing in the pots out front as there were flowers peeking out of vases indoors. She inhaled deeply and was not disappointed; Lana's home smelled as sweet as her surname.

The walls of the hallway were lined with paintings, and the living room mantle was cluttered with photographs. Sookie crossed to the shelf, picking up one frame that lay on its face, before setting it back down quickly as Lana entered with the tea. She had recognized Lana in the picture—and Hank, and Lana's brother, Michael.

Lana hadn't noticed the invasion of her privacy. She smiled so widely now that her eyes squeezed themselves into crescents. "Now explain yourself, Sookie Logan!" Lana exclaimed. "Just what the hell are you doing here? I thought you'd left Cedar Springs behind you for good!"

"So had I," Sookie admitted as she settled herself on the couch. Lana poured them each a glass of tea out of the crystalline pitcher before sitting down herself. "But I couldn't stay away, not with the fire raging so near. I fly choppers now with the National Guard."

"No kidding." Lana whistled. "So that helicopter I heard flying overhead the other day . . . that was you?"

Sookie nodded. "Yeah. Sorry about all the noise. I can steal you a cool pair of noise-canceling headphones, if you want."

"I'm sure I would look extra vogue walking around in them." Lana shook her head and chuckled. She leaned forward and added, "So tell me, what does Cedar Springs look like from all the way up there?"

"Small," Sookie admitted. Fragile, she thought privately. Sleepy and complacent and tinder-dry.

"Nothing here ever changes, you know?" Lana said.

"Better hope it stays that way," Sookie warned. "I know a nearby wildfire that is seriously looking to change things up. And it won't be for the better."

Lana shrugged. "This region's no stranger to fires, Sook. You grew up here, the same as I did. There were plenty of summers we stayed inside because of the smoke.”

Yeah, but I have a feeling this one is different. Sookie didn't say as much out loud. She rarely discussed her gut feelings with anyone; she was content to act on them when situations arose—and deal with the consequences. Unfortunately, she was rarely wrong . . . which was why she now kept her creeping suspicion about the fire to herself.

I want to be wrong.

They had plenty of capable people, on the ground and in the air, dealing with blaze. She had no proof that it would rage out of hand. It would probably wind up being just as toothless as anything she had faced so far. It probably just bothered her more than the others because it was so close to home.

"Sookie?" Lana was looking at her, eyebrows furrowed and concern etched across her pretty face. "Is something wrong?"

Sookie shook her head. "Sorry. Work stuff. Sometimes I get distracted."

"No kidding. So what else is new with you?" Lana asked as she set her tea down. "Is the National Guardswoman still guarding her heart?"

Sookie bristled. "I'm not guarding anything, Lana."

"Mhmmm." Lana hummed as she picked up her tea again and took a very loud sip out of her straw.

Sookie had never heard a sound so perfectly articulate a person's thoughts better than actual words. She revised her response to be less defensive. "Lana, the only thing I care about protecting right now is Cedar Springs. And that means checking up on your sorry ass. You're my favorite person in this town, you know."

"I appreciate it." Lana's voice was full of feeling again.

"Well, aside from Dyna," Sookie added.

"That goes without saying."

"And . . . speaking of favorite people," Sookie said. She hesitated. Did she really want to do this?

Lana stared at her, patiently waiting, although the hands that had been nervous all through their conversation suddenly stilled in her lap. "Yes?"

Sookie expelled a long breath. "All right. I might as well tell you. The odds of you running into him sooner or later are too damn high, and I don't want you to be caught unawares.” She hesitated, then plunged ahead. “Hank's here, Lana. He brought a few of his guys with him; they're down from Alaska to help out with the fire."

Lana stared straight ahead, studying dead air. The silence deepened between them. Sookie shifted uncomfortably beside her on the couch. She was just about to wave her hand in front of Lana's face to make sure she hadn't broken the other woman when Lana blinked and seemed to reboot. She nodded in understanding, her smile tight, but at least it had returned for the time being. "Thanks, Sookie. I appreciate you telling me," she said.

What Sookie thought the woman would appreciate more was a subject change, so she barreled on. "He's got this one guy with him, Chase, who I apparently met before up in Alaska . . . I didn't recognize him right away. He was just a fresh-faced recruit back then, but he's packed on some serious muscle since—and managed to pad his ego while he's at it."

Lana snorted, but her eyes shimmered in amusement. "He sounds handsome," she goaded.

"He's handsome as all hell," Sookie agreed, "but I'm getting a total player vibe. I kid you not, Lana, my brother was standing only inches away, and this guy Chase still couldn't keep his eyes off my ass. I'll be surprised if he manages to keep his job if he doesn't learn a little discretion."

Lana laughed. "That sounds about right."

Her friend's laughter warmed Sookie. It was a laugh that told her she had made the right decision in coming by—and in telling Lana that Hank was in town. "Sounds like Hank's still looking out for you," Lana continued.

The warm sensation chilled instantly. "Hank couldn't care less about where I am or what I get up to," Sookie said flatly. "It's always been that way, and you know it."

She instantly regretted coming off so harsh, but Lana seemed unfazed. The woman had always accepted Sookie's rough edges with more grace than anyone else. "It never looked that way to me," her friend said simply. "I know the two of you had your differences, and your family went through a lot."

"Two orphans who can't stand to be in the same room as each other don't make a family," Sookie insisted. She traced a pattern in the condensation dripping down her glass just so she had a reason to keep her eyes averted. Lana was one of the gentlest souls she had ever met, but she also had one of the most penetrating stares of anyone Sookie had ever known. "And I doubt Hank's trying to play house now. He's just buggin' because Little Sis is all grown up and she has an ass that won't quit."

"You do have a nice ass," Lana agreed with a straight face.

Sookie sat up more primly. "Thank you," she said.

"But of course."

Their faux manners dissolved, and the two broke into gales of laughter.

They sat and chatted a bit more, until the molten light from the sunset shone through the western windows.

Sookie said her goodbyes. She needed time alone to think, and she intended to go in search of a stronger drink than Lana's tea to help her through the process.

"Goodbye, Sookie." Lana walked her out to the front porch and wrapped the younger woman in her arms again. "Don't be a stranger."

"I won't." Sookie squeezed back. If there was one thing she had missed about the people of Cedar Springs, it was their hugs. "Thanks for the tea, Lana."

She glanced behind her as she walked down the street. Lana stood silhouetted in the window, gazing out across town, like an illustrated princess in a storybook, waiting for her knight-errant to ride back into her life.

Seeing her like this tugged at Sookie's cold, cold heart. Obviously Lana still wasn't completely over Hank. She knew she had done the right thing by bringing her friend the news of her brother's return, but a part of her wished it could have been avoided. Lana deserved peace in her life, more than anyone else Sookie knew. She had already been through enough heartache to last her a lifetime.

They all had.

* * *

Given how she had spent the afternoon, a Long Island Iced Tea seemed an appropriate way to close out the evening.

Sookie stood on the flat roof of the Springs Well, alone, drink in hand, and gazed off toward the horizon. She had never been satisfied to view the world from ground level, and that was even before she was a licensed pilot. From her current vantage, she could see the wildfire burning in the distance, radiating an infernal light.

"Mind if I join you?"

Sookie started. She had been so lost in thought that she hadn't heard anyone else let themselves out onto the roof. She turned—and was strangely unsurprised to see Chase Kingston strolling toward her, a beer in his hand.

She pretended to study him, then gestured to the empty stretch of railing beside her. "By all means."

"Figured I'd ask," he continued. He leaned on the railing and took a casual sip from his bottle. "Can never be too careful," he added.

Sookie raised an eyebrow. "You don't need kid gloves when you're dealing with me."

"My own experience says otherwise," Chase replied. "I'm not sure which Sookie Logan I'm liable to get: the Ice Queen, or the Firecracker."

"Something tells me you're used to abrupt changes in temperature," Sookie said.

"Sure. But I'm not used to getting iced."

"Says the guy from Alaska," she pointed out.

"You know what I mean. I probably don't have to tell you this, but women don't usually walk away from me the way you did."

"Hmmm." Sookie leaned her forearms beside him and took a long sip off the top of her tea. "Well, what can I say? I'm an anomaly."

"You're something else, all right."

She glanced sidelong at Chase, feeling secure enough in the darkness to study him for the moment as best she could. The lone light mounted in the alcove of the roof access door only made his profile appear more incredible: She admired the slant of his nose, the cleaving definition of his jaw. He took another swig of beer, and she watched the shadows around his throat gather, his Adam's apple jump, as he swallowed. Even his lips were strangely, sensuously pronounced in the darkness. When was the last time she had really noticed a man's lips?

I can't help it, Sookie consoled herself. He talks so damn much. Hell, Chase was still talking now.

". . . didn't mean anything by it. When I came up to you the other day."

"Didn't you?" Sookie didn't have to manufacture her disbelief.

The lips that hovered maddeningly close to her in the darkness grimaced. "Okay, maybe I did. Maybe I meant to be the one walking away first . . . only in my version of events, I'd have your phone number."

"You meant to get into my pants," she added helpfully.

"Is that so surprising?" Chase asked. He turned to her, and Sookie didn't turn away. "You're a gorgeous woman. You're a pilot. And you shut me down. Of course I want you. I'd be crazy not to pursue you."

"So what's stopping you?"

Her question hung in the air between them. She hadn't intended to bait him, but she couldn't help it. The alcohol burned in her bloodstream, and Chase's nearness was already hitting her like a second round. She wanted more. She wanted to see just how far she could push him before he turned his words into action.

And he seemed about to act on something. The air around them was charged, as if he had already worked out his next move, what space he would occupy, and to what end.

Sookie liked to think she was the intended prize, and leaned in a little, just to make his decision easier. Her shoulder brushed his. His lips would taste like the beer he was drinking, she knew. In fact, she was counting on it.

"You're the chief's sister," Chase said. He didn't retreat from her altogether, but drew back slightly as he spoke; her shoulder felt immediately colder without the contact.

Talk about getting iced.

It was as if Chase had needed to hear himself say the words out loud to convince himself. Sookie snorted and turned away. She didn't trust the darkness to be enough to hide her sudden disappointment.

"Hank would kill me," Chase said.

"Hank can go fuck himself," she replied. The recommendation came naturally, and she was proud of the fact.

Chase scoffed a surprised laugh and held up his hands. "You said it, not me."

"Why are you so scared of him?" Sookie demanded. "You can't tell me you haven't thought the exact same thing. C'mon, you can be honest with me! I'm not going to run and tell Big Brother that one of the guys on his squad was venting to me on the roof of the bar." She glanced up at the sky. If there was anyone around to eavesdrop, it was the moon and stars, and even those were hidden behind a curtain of haze. "And I'm not going to run and tell him that you spent most of your evening off up here flirting with me. Hell, I wouldn't make a peep if you decided to do more than just flirt." It was the Long Island talking now, not her. It was alcohol that made her blood heat and not the molten-hot firefighter standing close enough to touch.

"You're his sister," Chase reiterated quietly.

Sookie blinked. She had yet to hear him speak with real reverence in regard to anything, but this felt close to it.

And it pissed her the hell off.

"Right. His sister. I'm not his property!" she hissed. She turned and jammed a finger into Chase's chest, which was a mistake—the violence of her gesture was no match for his solid wall of muscle, and her finger hurt in the aftermath, which only pissed her off more. "He has no right to decide how I live my life! He doesn't get to have a goddamn say in anything!"

"Easy." Chase caught her wrists, and Sookie was satisfied. Maybe her aggressive finger-punching had made an impact after all. The sensation of his massive hands clamped around her bare, slender arms felt good. His hooded expression, there and gone in a moment, told her he felt the same way.

"If there's one thing I'm not, Mr. Kingston, it's easy," she stated. She pulled away from him, and Chase let her go. They both knew he could have held her there for as long as he wanted, if he wanted—and a part of Sookie wished he'd had the balls to keep her. "And you know what?" she added as she snatched her empty glass off the porch railing. "Hank's not the only one who can go fuck himself. You can go fuck yourself, too, Mr. Kingston."

"Good night, Sookie." Chase gave a half-hearted wave, already turning to head for the roof exit.

Sookie's breath caught, and her heart stuttered to a stop. That was it? He was just going to let her walk all over him like that? What the hell happened to the brash alpha she had been sparring with earlier?

She had the words to drive him away, but she didn't have the ones to call him back. She watched him disappear into the square of light without a backward glance. The door swung shut behind him.

Sookie cursed below her breath. As much as Chase drove her crazy, she didn't want him to be another casualty in the long war between her and Hank. And after what Hank had done—how dare he? How fucking dare he? He had no right to intervene in any aspect of her life, and he sure as hell had no right to pull rank on any member of his squad who had the audacity to look at her like a woman.

The attraction that burned between her and Chase was one fire Hank Logan wouldn't be able to put out, no matter how hard he tried.

Sookie just hoped she didn't accidentally put it out first.

Chapter 5

Chase

"Kingston, you're up."

Chase glanced around the room as he came back to himself. His brain had dropped him right in the middle of a steamy daydream about Sookie, and for a moment, he couldn't remember where he was. Then he took in the faces of the men seated around him, some familiar, most belonging to members of the local fire department, and remembered where he was.

They had all agreed to meet at the Cedar Springs station today to receive their assignments. It was his first official day on duty, and the local fire chief was staring at him from the front of the room.

Chase straightened in his chair. "Ready, Chief," he said.

"I want you to be my eyes in the air today," the Springs chief said. "You'll be going up in the chopper with a member of the National Guard." The chief nodded toward the back of the room, and Chase turned. He had been so preoccupied with his torrid fantasy of Sookie that he’d failed to notice when the woman herself actually walked in.

Sookie leaned against the back wall, arms crossed over the front of her flight suit, her glossy chocolate hair pulled back from her severe face. She looked . . . ambivalent. Chase turned forward, nodded, decided to look the same.

On the inside, he was a mess of nerves.

Hank watched him suspiciously. Chase met his eyes, had an oh shit! moment, before remembering that his chief could not, in fact, read his mind, nor could the man telepathically rifle through the filthy contents of his thoughts . . . even if that was exactly what Hank’s scowl suggested.

"You got it, Chief," he said. The meeting moved on to the next assignment, and Chase sat back in his chair.

Fifteen minutes later, he was geared up and strolling across the tarmac to the chopper. Sookie was waiting for him, and beyond her, he could see the silhouette of her copilot already belted in, anonymous in his helmet, head bent over a checklist.

They stared one another down from behind their aviator shades.

"Ready?" she asked.

Chase gave her a thumbs-up.

"You're nervous!" she crowed.

"Shut up and fly this thing." He would have felt bad, normally, for letting his nerves get the better of him in that moment, but Sookie seemed too delighted with her discovery to notice. After instructing him on how to strap in—and enjoying herself far too much as she tightened his belt to a setting just short of strangulation—

And they were off. Literally, off the ground. Chase barely felt a lurch as they departed, but his hand shot out to grip the lip of the cabin door. He stared at the ground as it shrank beneath them; pretty soon the tarmac was the size of a postage stamp.

A chill went down his back. The pit of his stomach burned. Chase tasted that morning's coffee, revisiting him in the base of his throat.

"Relax," Sookie's voice said over the comm. "You're so nervous, you're making me nervous. And trust me, you don't want your pilot to be nervous."

"You're not nervous." It was cruel of her to even suggest that she was. "And I'm not nervous," he added for good measure—which was rapidly becoming true, but did nothing to remedy his growing certainty that he was going to vomit.

"If you're going to be sick, try to be sick out the door," Sookie advised, and he could swear he heard the copilot—Raj, he’d introduced himself—chuckle. The Hawk banked a sharp right, and Chase white-knuckled the opening, watching as the world smeared and tilted the wrong way. He felt like he was in a carnival funhouse, and only the depraved architect was having fun.

"When you're finished, I'd like to go observe a fire, please!" he shouted.

The comm crackled, but even feedback couldn't make Sookie's laugh ugly. "You're doing great, Hotshot. I'm impressed. One fire coming right up."

And then, suddenly, they were right on it. Chase craned himself as far forward as he could. A wall of intense heat hit him, and he gasped; sweat broke out on his temple, prickled beneath his arms and along the seam of his back.

"Holy shit," he said. Either there was an echo in the cab of the Black Hawk, or the pilots’ sentiments were his exactly.

The blaze had cooked the entire landscape for miles around, and it only seemed to be gaining momentum. This was not the same wildfire Hank had briefed him and Garrett on only days ago.

"This isn't a fire," Sookie said in wonder. "This is a hellscape."

"We haven't gone nuclear yet." Chase pulled his phone out and began to record video. The chopper banked again, and this time, he barely noticed the way the cabin leaned. Sookie circled the dead center of the blaze, before Chase instructed her onward. This wasn't the quadrant they had been assigned, but that wasn't going to stop him from putting this shit down on the record. "Glad you're here," he called up to Sookie. "If you weren't sharing the view, I doubt anyone would believe me."

"Why wouldn't they believe you?" She nosed the chopper forward around a streaming column of smoke.

"They'd think I was exaggerating my data, even if it was by accident. They still think I'm green. That's why they stuck me with you."

"Oh, thanks!" she shouted tartly.

Chase shook his head, before realizing the move would be lost on her. "I'm not saying you're green! This is your job, Sook. My job is to fight fires, not spectate." He realized too late that he had used Hank's nickname for her, but Sookie either didn't mind, or didn't notice. If Chase had to guess, cutting through the smoke-choked air above a blazing inferno tended to put minor annoyances into perspective.

"Whatever assignment they give you, you can always count on me to back you up," Sookie said.

Chase nodded. Again, the move was probably lost on her, but an adequate response was lost on him as well. He hadn't expected to feel touched by her words.

They continued their observations for a half hour more, until a combination of the heat and a half-empty fuel tank drove them home. Once the chopper touched down, Chase threw off his headset and ripped free of his seatbelt. The blades hadn't even stopped rotating yet, but Sookie was already out of her seat and headed toward the hangar while Raj finished the shutdown checklist. Chase sprinted after her, phone still in hand. He shouldered past the Guard crew chief, who was already crouched beside the Hawk scrutinizing something and, Chase thought, about two beers away from patting it and whispering sweet nothings to its console.

"Hey! Ice Queen!"

Sookie turned. Chase felt encouraged by her fleeting, amused look. "I just wanted to tell you how fucking cool it was being up there today."

"You think so?" She studied him, and after a few seconds, took off her aviators. Chase was surprised, and took his off as well. "Nothing beats flying. I'm addicted to it," Sookie confided. Her hazel eyes glowed.

"I can see why." Chase watched the dreamy look cross her face, and realized she had never been this vulnerable with him before. He needed to make the jump, now, while the cabin door was still flung wide. "Although I can think of maybe one or two things that beat flying."

"Oh yeah?" Sookie grinned, planting her hands squarely on her hips. "I'm all ears, Hotshot."

"Listen, Sookie . . ." Chase licked his lips, dry from the day's heat exposure, before carrying on. "They'll likely have me on trench crew, next. Probably the eastern side."

"Makes sense, considering what we saw today," she agreed.

"So I might not get another chance to ask you this soon if you'd like to grab a beer with me."

Sookie shifted. She tucked a windswept strand of hair behind her ear. "I wasn't exactly my best self the other night when we were out drinking," she admitted.

It wasn't a no. Chase could work with that. "This time we'd be out drinking as . . . colleagues."

"Colleagues?" She stared at him dubiously.

"Colleagues," he repeated firmly. He knew that it was the word he needed to use to describe their situation. Never mind what was in his head.

Sookie tipped her chin. She considered him, and he stood strong beneath her scrutiny. Then she flipped her aviators open and pushed them back up her nose. "All right, Chase. If that's what colleagues do."

"It is," he said.

"Then I'll meet up with you for a beer later down at the Springs Well."

"It's a work date."

"Oh, and Chase?" Sookie was already turning to go, but threw a glance back over her shoulder. "Why don't you, ah, let me know when you want me to get you up again. Into the air, that is."

Chase's mouth nearly fell open at the quip.

Sookie's lips quirked, and she turned to saunter off, leaving him alone and speechless with a phone full of bad news.

* * *

"Fuck, I'm beat," Chase said to no one as he dropped down into his bunk back at the station. He was the first one back, and he tried not to let the realization get to him. He was still a junior member of the team, after all—of course he would have been handed one of the easier assignments. It made sense that they wanted him to get his feet wet before diving right in.

Still, he couldn't help thinking he was being punished somehow.

You'd think I'd already fucked the chief's sister.

Chase groaned and turned over. He turned back, staring at the underside of the bunk above him. Sunlight filtered in through the slats in the window blinds—not the warm, golden sunlight of a clear California day, but the angry red Martian light of a sun trapped behind a veil of haze. Chase reached for the window wand and twisted. The room sunk into more serene darkness.

He draped a hand over his eyes, inhaled, and sighed deeply.

Suddenly he was back inside the Black Hawk. The chopper was grounded, and Sookie . . . Sookie wasn't in the pilot's seat. He was in the pilot's seat, and Sookie was in his lap.

Chase's hands found her waist, smoothed appreciatively down her curvaceous hips. The flight suit did a good job of hiding Sookie's figure from the outside world, but she was out of it now. Hell, why stop there? Sookie was completely naked, her hips undulating, perspiration beading her skin like drops of dew, sequins. Chase bent his head, and his tongue flicked along the curve of her neck, tasting. Sookie's head fell to the side in submission. Her breathing was labored—she was fighting for control of herself, had been fighting for a long time, but she was losing now.

Chase folded his tongue back between his teeth and glanced down. Below him, Sookie's breasts bounced and settled, bounced and settled. Her nipples were so tight, they looked painful. He breathed on them, and the dark pink flesh pebbled even more. He drew one into his mouth, and she groaned wildly. Her fingers clawed at his back, but she wasn't fighting to extract herself; if anything, her touch urged him on.

Below her breasts and taut navel, their bodies moved as one.

In his daydream, he was buried inside Sookie. She was tight, and warm, and slick with desire, both his and hers. His hands were planted on her hips, and he raised and lowered her, raised and lowered her, his fingers digging into the plump round muscle of her ass. He was a master playing an instrument, and she performed beautifully at his slightest touch. She leaned into his chest, panting, her arms wending around his neck.

"We shouldn't," she begged. "What if . . . Hank . . ."

"Hank can go fuck himself." Chase imagined himself echoing Sookie's own words to her in his daydream, the words she had accused him of not being brave enough to say. Now he threw them back in her face as he thrust upward, intent on driving any thoughts of her brother from her mind. She cried out and clutched him, sobs of pleasure escaping past her lips as her body bounced in time to his thrusts. He buried his cock deep inside that forbidden slit, and it was everything he had ever dreamed it could be. He was fucking Sookie, just as he had promised himself he would, and Sookie was riding his dick like her life depended on it. Her protests had devolved now to howling, passionate cries. Even the Ice Queen couldn't withstand the heat.

The windows of the Black Hawk fogged around them. Good, Chase thought. Now no one on the outside could see all the depraved things he was doing to its pilot. Just doing my patriotic duty, Hank . . .

"Ugh!"

Back in his station bunk, Chase overturned himself angrily as he gave up his fantasy, yet again, to intrusive thoughts of his disapproving chief. Flopping onto his stomach was a mistake—his erection was unceremoniously flattened beneath his full body weight, and a jolt of pain shot through him. Chase sat up abruptly; his head hit one of the metal crossbeams of the bunk above, and he saw stars.

"God . . . dammit!" He bellowed his frustration, but of course, there was no one around to hear him. His fellow firefighters were still out there, doing exactly what they had been called here to do. He could appreciate any frustrations they faced that day.

Unfortunately, Chase was pretty sure no one could appreciate his.

Chapter 6

Sookie

There were two options for why she might be here, so far as Sookie was concerned.

Either A, she thought the insufferable Chase Kingston was hot despite his obnoxious personality, and her dry spell had lasted long enough that she was willing to forgive everything else about him; or B, she was pissed off at her brother, and seeing Chase behind his back was the best way she could come up with on short notice of sticking it to him.

Why not both? Sookie wondered as she reflected on the calculus. She stood outside the Springs Well, dressed casually in a loose-fitting tank top and jeans, and tried her hardest to avoid looking like she was waiting. She watched the evening sky transition behind the ever-present curtain of haze. As the temperature around her cooled, only slightly, and the shadows deepened, her awareness of the smoke in the air increased. She had almost gotten used to the smell these past few days.

How much longer until we start putting out the smoke warnings? Months? Weeks?

"Hey, there!" a handsome voice hailed her. "What's an Angel like you doing alone down here on Earth?"

Sookie turned, glad for a distraction from her more worrisome thoughts. Chase sauntered toward her along the sidewalk from the station. She approved of his hustle—it meant she didn't have to stand around and devote energy to the appearance of not waiting for him anymore. And while she would never admit it out loud, seeing him quickened her pulse. She felt a jolt of adrenaline like the kind she only got when she flew.

No way Chase Kingston could excite her as much as flying . . . could he?

He halted beside her, grinning, almost as if he could read her thoughts and approved of them heartily.

Sookie regretted that she wasn't wearing her usual reflective aviators. She had no way of knowing what he was reading on her face to make him smile, and she had no way of hiding it.

"I liked it better when I was the Ice Queen," she said.

"I bet you just liked being called a queen," Chase said, speculating, and Sookie didn't correct him. She would never admit it out loud, but she liked his nicknames for her. Anything he came up was a stark improvement on Sook.

"What do you say we skip the bar tonight?" she asked.

He looked puzzled. The Springs Well was the only bar in town.

"Dyna's?" he suggested. It was cute, the way he said it, like an outsider testing out the local lingo.

It had been a long time since Sookie had found a grown man cute.

"I've got a better idea," she said.

Chase raised an eyebrow. "Better than Dyna's diner?"

"Maybe not better. How about . . . different."

"Different's good," Chase said as he followed her out into the forested darkness behind the bar. "A girl guaranteed me recently that I had never met anyone like her before."

"Oh? Was she right?" Sookie picked her way through the gloom under the trees. She knew the deer path like the back of her hand, but she went slowly now so Chase could follow her easily.

"She was," Chase said.

"Sounds like a handful." Sounds like more trouble than she's worth, a mutinous voice added in the back of her head, but Sookie quickly shut it up. What was the matter with her? It had been a long time since she had let the 'unworthy' voice out of the bag. She hadn't heard from it since earning her wings two years ago.

"Hell," he chuckled. "I don't think there's any denying that."

They broke through the tree line, and Sookie stepped aside to more easily allow Chase's broader form out into the open. A sleek, silver creek snaked along the ground at her feet, bubbling conversationally. She approached the shadowy bank and squatted down.

"What are you . . .?" Before Chase could complete his thought, she produced a cooler of beer. She turned in place, dangling the handle enticingly from her fingers. "No more Ice Queen," he stated. "You're an amazing woman who knows her way to a common man's heart."

"Shut up and sit down." Sookie threw one leg over a nearby log, then the other, and took a seat. Chase joined her, and she passed him a beer. "Shoot. I forgot the bottle opener," she muttered. She considered her bottle for a moment before his hand reached out of the darkness to pry it from her.

Chase sat back, lifted the hem of his shirt, and popped the top off on his belt buckle.

Sookie's mouth watered. She didn't know if it was for the beer, the demonstration's nearness to his (obviously well-endowed) nether regions, or for the sculpted half of that magnificent torso he bared without a second thought. "Thanks," she said as he passed the beer back to her.

"Cheers."

The clinked their bottles together and drank. They sat for a long moment in silence—which, when you were in nature, wasn't a real silence at all. But the air felt quiet—too quiet, so much so that Sookie could almost hear the hum of the electricity sizzling between them. Last time she'd been this near to Chase in the dark, she’d had a Long Island Iced Tea, and a warm-up beer before that, to buffer her.

"You know, Sookie Logan, you just might be the coolest girl I've ever met," Chase said.

"Is that supposed to make my panties fall off?" she asked wryly. In the hazy twilight, she could see his eyebrows lift in fake surprise.

"Are we in danger of that happening?"

"You're a firefighter," she reminded him. "You're always in danger."

"And if I'm not, you can bet your ass I'm not doing my job right."

"I feel the same way," she said.

Chase turned on the log to face her, his beer dangling loosely between his knees. "Why did you join the National Guard? Why did you become a pilot?" he asked.

Sookie shrugged. She took a sip of her beer. "You went up today," she reminded him. "Why do you think? It's amazing up there."

"But that's not it." He surprised her with his certainty, and Sookie lowered her beer. "Why do you do it, exactly?"

"Is that supposed to clarify your question for me somehow?"

"You're stalling," he said.

Sookie exhaled through her nose in frustration. She jogged her leg, then glanced out toward the landscape. They were facing south, away from the fire. The view under the fading light was perfectly serene, perfectly as it should be, silhouettes of trees rising against the sky. There wasn't a tree out of place. If a person never turned around, they might not realize their life was in peril until the blaze was actually upon them and it was too late.

"If I tell you, then you have to tell me something personal about you," she said. "About why you chose to be a firefighter.”

"Sure." Chase suddenly didn't sound so eager.

"I mean it, Hotshot. Otherwise you stand no chance of getting laid tonight. Take it or leave it."

"There's plenty I'd like to take," he said gravely. "But I'll start here."

A little shiver raced up her back before she could suppress it. She liked to give Chase shit almost relentlessly, but God, when he got a filthy innuendo in edgewise . . . it did things to her. "All right. After Hank left town, I sort of . . . ran away." She blushed and looked down. This wasn't how she had intended to start things off. "I mean, by then I was legally an adult, of course. But I sure as hell made some childish decisions. I was homeless for a bit. Surfed friends' couches. Hunkered down in my car. Slept on the street when I had to."

She expected Chase to voice his disbelief at this. Chase said nothing. He watched her, his eyes two gleaming, anchoring points in the darkness.

Sookie raised her beer to take another fortifying drink and continued, "So yeah, I started life out there in the big, wide world a little bit mixed up. I certainly don't regret the experience, but I wasn't doing anything to find myself. I was running. I ran all over the country before I eventually landed in the National Guard. I needed a place to stay, mainly. I was worn out. Totally directionless. Then I fell in love."

"With someone in the Guard?" Chase asked.

Sookie shook her head. "No. With flying. Almost from the moment I learned I could pilot one of those Black Hawks, it's like my path was suddenly set. I locked onto my fate, and I knew what I'd been put on Earth to do. Four years of ROTC and I got my degree. I'm not running anymore, but that doesn't mean I have to give up escaping. Flying above it all . . . well, you know what it's like, now. You're not just above it all physically. It's like your mind is suddenly free."

"What was holding it prisoner before?" Chase asked.

Sookie shifted and rolled the beer bottle between her anxious palms. "My . . . Hank's and my . . . family life wasn't super great." She didn't know what else to say. She had no idea how much Hank might have told Chase already . . . although, knowing Hank, it was probably less than nothing. She could still withhold the rest of the story. She could still keep the truth safely locked within her.

Because she still didn't know if she trusted Chase Kingston.

"No matter where you might go on the ground, someone might find you," she said. "Show up on your doorstep, ready to beat you over the head with your past. Up there, though, you're out of reach."

"Sounds lonely."

"It is. But it's better than the alternative."

"What's the alternative?" This time when Chase swiveled toward her, his knee brushed against hers. Sookie hadn't realized they were sitting that close, but she didn't shy from the contact. "Another person?" He was pressing her, taking her down a path she didn't want to go. His thigh was pressing against her thigh, letting her know its marble hardness, making it hard to focus on the treacherous conversational terrain she was being forced to navigate.

In the end, Sookie didn't know how to respond to him. She settled for jabbing her finger into his bicep. Really, she just wanted an excuse to test the solid-looking muscle’s strength for herself, and she wasn't disappointed. "Hey, I already told you more than I tell most people. Now it's your turn to spill."

"I'm flattered." Chase shifted, turning away slightly, and Sookie realized at once that he was closing himself off.

She reacted by grabbing his beer. He rounded on her, and she dangled it playfully out of reach. "C'mon, Chase. It's partly why I brought you out here."

"Can't wait to get to the other part of your plans for me," Chase muttered, but his heart clearly wasn't in it.

"Be real with me," she insisted.

Chase chuckled. "All right. Fair enough. But my reasons aren't as romantic, or as noble, as yours are. I joined the department because of the rush I get saving people. You said you were addicted to flying? I'm addicted to adrenaline. It gets you back to the basics of what it means to be a human. It burns everything else away."

"What else needs to be burned away?" Sookie asked.

"My father, Court, mostly." Chase scowled. "And . . . anyone else who didn't think I was good enough."

"Was there someone else?"

Chase said nothing, and she had her answer. Someone left you, she thought as she looked at him, sitting slumped on the log beside her. A woman.

"You loved her," she guessed.

"Doesn't matter." He took his beer back while her guard was down and finished it off. He rose to crack another. "It was a while ago."

"The past can be very present," Sookie said. "Especially if you don't deal with your demons."

"You should know, right?" Chase dropped back down beside her. There was an edge to his voice, but Sookie didn't take offense. He was right. She never practiced what she preached. A part of her had wondered if coming home to Cedar Springs would help her resolve all the pain she carried with her. If she could just unload it all like a supply drop, she might stand a chance of lifting off again.

"I've been in relationships before. Well, only one serious one," she admitted.

"Yeah?" Chase challenged, engaged again. "Why'd that fall apart?"

Sookie shrugged. "I guess a part of me just doesn't know how to be around men. Maybe it's the guys I meet, or . . . maybe it really is my fault. I don't know. But I always feel silenced, and walked all over—before long, it feels like I just exist to be a spectator to someone else's life and interests. It's like having my wings clipped."

"And what kind of guardian angel would you be to me and my squad without your wings?" Chase surprised her by stroking his fingers along her back, tracing the definition of her shoulder blades.

"I'm no angel." The hand on her back deepened its touch, and she arched. She was surprised when she didn't emit a purr of approval. It felt that good.

Chase sighed. She could practically hear the sexual frustration released on his breath. "We should go in," he muttered. "Early day tomorrow."

"Did I ruin the mood?" Sookie frowned. She liked Chase's hand on her back and resented it when he took it away.

"What mood?" he asked innocently. "We're colleagues, remember? Just colleagues sharing a beer."

"In the middle of the California woods, at night," she said.

"Beneath the stars."

"With work in the morning," she reminded him in a sudden turnabout. Because as much as Sookie hated to admit it, Chase was right. They had their roles to fulfill by the light of day—both in and out of uniform. Would she wake up tomorrow and find that things were still the same between them? Maybe night was only good for softening adversarial edges, rather than abolishing them completely.

Sookie got to her feet with a heavy sigh of her own. She locked the cooler up and stowed it back within the weeds. Who knew when she would need to escape next? The government’s Hawk wasn't fueled for personal excursions into the sky. A cooler full of beer by the creek would just have to do for now.

And she would have to satisfy herself with parting ways with Chase, taking with her only the lingering memory of his touch. It had taken tonight for her to realize she really did want more.

So how the hell was she supposed to go about getting it? The man was as wounded as she was. Their attraction was undeniable, its conclusion maybe even unavoidable—but what if they just wound up hurting one another more in the process?

They walked back into town together. Chase's hands were buried in his pockets, and Sookie wondered if he didn't trust them to behave.

God, how she wanted them to misbehave around her.

Chapter 7

Chase

After saying good night to Sookie, Chase continued down Main Street into the deepening night. He wasn't used to going home alone, and he wasn't sure he liked it . . . but it was hard to feel too disappointed with the glow of the evening he’d just spent nestled like an ember in his belly.

Other things were glowing that night, too. There was the wildfire raging in the distance, and there was a lone light burning in the living room window of the house he shared with the squad. Chase walked up the drive and mounted the front porch, his steps more measured now. He wished he could silence them altogether, then shook the thought from his mind. He wasn't some kid out past his curfew.

He unlocked the front door and shoved it open.

Hank sat in the living room chair. Chase glanced at the microwave clock in the kitchen, then pushed the numbers out of his head. Again: no curfew. He wasn't guilty of anything.

Yet.

"Hey, Chief. You're up late."

"Where the hell have you been?" Hank didn't bother matching Chase’s casual tone. If Chase had any doubts what this confrontation was about, they were snuffed in that moment.

The chief's tone made him hot, but he was determined to play things cool. "Just out having a drink." He dropped his keys in the foyer bowl.

"No, you weren't." Hank's challenge sounded confident. He sat back in the armchair and crossed his burly arms. "There's only one place to drink in this town, and I was there all night. You weren't there . . . and neither was my sister." Chase tried to stay as still as possible as Hank studied him. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

He could lie. He had intended to lie when Hank caught on to this thing with his sister, but now that he was in the moment, Chase felt the tug of loyalty . . . and of guilt. He couldn't lie to his chief. "I do know," he admitted. "I was out having a drink with Sookie. We decided on something a little more private than the Well." With good reason, he thought. By the way Hank gripped the arms of his chair now, Chase could tell his chief had been contemplating wringing his neck all evening.

"What does that mean? Private?" Hank's voice was a deadly whisper. Unlike lesser whispers, its power wasn't reduced just because he spoke more softly.

The whisper—and the question—put Chase on the defensive. The last place he wanted to be. "Nothing happened, Chief. Nothing's going to happen. We just figured we'd celebrate our first flight together."

"In private?"

Chase's temper flared. "If you don't believe me, then why don't you go and ask your sister?" When he was met with only stony silence, he soldiered on into unknown territory. "Fuck if I know what the history is between the two of you, but it's got nothing to do with me. I don't want any part of it. But if you're really so concerned that it keeps you up at night, maybe you should start by talking to her instead of me. Sounds like you’ve got a lot to make up for."

The whole speech was a mistake, but his closing line was the ill-advised cherry on top of an unasked-for-advice sundae. Hank was out of his chair and halfway to the foyer before Chase could blink, much less contemplate a hasty retreat. He was glad he didn't have the time to think about backing down. Hank was there, suddenly, a looming tower of muscle about to topple and wreak havoc. Chase stood strong.

The two of them stared each other down. Chase's fists itched, and his palms were sweating. Was he seriously going to have it out with Hank, here and now, when nothing had happened tonight? He didn't think he could take his chief, not really . . . but maybe it was the alcohol pumping through his veins that made him determined to go down swinging.

Or maybe it was something else in his bloodstream. An image of Sookie flashed in his mind, all dark hair and lips and brushfire-bright eyes. God damn, she was beautiful. If there was one face in the world worth getting his own smashed for, it was hers.

He waited for Hank's swing. It never came. At a glance, his chief's fists were curled at his sides, same as Chase's, and shaking with what must have been raw fury, but it was contained. Hank fought fires for a living, but he also controlled them better than most.

Chase relaxed his posture first. He wanted to say something, anything, to mitigate the damage done, but he couldn't find the words. Funny, how words came to you when you shouldn't use them—and abandoned you when you needed them most.

"Get to bed. You're on the grid again tomorrow." Hank brushed by him, knocking shoulders, and Chase gave ground. He stepped back, watching as his chief climbed the stairs and vanished up into the second story.

He tried to force himself to think more on the words traded, and what it might mean for him in the coming days . . . but try as he might, news of tomorrow's assignment overshadowed everything. He would be on the grid. Again.

That meant he'd see Sookie again. It seemed no matter where he turned in this town, he couldn't escape running into a Logan.

And in this case, he didn't want to.

* * *

"Creeping!" Chase shouted.

Sookie turned to him from the cockpit of the Hawk and twitched her shades down her nose. "Are you?" she asked with mock interest.

He rose, grabbing her by the helmet and forcefully turning her head back around. "Not me, Queenie. The fire. Look."

Sookie leaned her head out, and so did Chase, while Raj held the chopper steady. He knew he wasn't wrong, but it wasn't the kind of news he liked to deliver. The wildfire raged below them, pouring black smoke in thick, choking plumes as it devoured acres of forest whole. They had made enough passes by now to get a clear visual: The flames had definitely started to creep south.

"Prep the foam," Sookie said.

"Already on it."

Chase headed for the tanks, then clipped himself into the safety harness and got into position with the remote ready. Sookie brought them down lower over the blaze. Chase pulled his face mask up over his mouth. "How's our position looking from up there?" he shouted through the fabric.

"Almost there!" Sookie called back. "I'll cue you for the release!"

Chase waited, breath caught, eyes stinging, remote in hand. He split his attention between the woman in the cockpit and the fire below. He was ready when her hand shot up and cleaved the air. "Now!"

Chase hit the switch. The retardant foam spilled behind them like a red cloud. It streaked the sky and fell to the scorching earth below as Sookie flew on. He leaned out the door to watch its progress. The foam blanketed the landscape, dousing the fire beneath it and clinging to the branches of dead trees.

"Reminds me of a party I went to once!" he called up to the cockpit.

"A foam party?" Sookie said. He was only slightly disappointed that her worldly knowledge appeared a match for his own.

"House party with other members of the department. Your brother was there, too!"

"Ugh. Please spare me any more visuals!" Sookie called.

Chase erupted in laughter, then grabbed for the lip of the door as the Hawk hung a sharp left. He still wasn't used to flying, but damn if he wasn't growing to like it. The sexy little pilot who took him up on assignments might have something to do with it.

An hour later and they were back on the ground again, but Chase's mood soared. Not only had he finally found a chance to actively participate in quashing the blaze, but an afternoon spent flirting with Sookie (which most often meant trading jabs) had left him wanting more.

He caught her arm as they disembarked. Seemed to him that Sookie had a business-first attitude the moment she touched down, and he didn't want to lose his chance to speak to her without the interference of a prop blade . . . or her older brother.

"Hey. Ice Queen."

"Yes?" One of her eyebrows cocked behind her aviators, but that was all Chase saw of her eyes. He slipped them off her nose without thinking, and grinned at her look of dismay. She was definitely less icy without them . . . hell, he could read actual emotion on her face. He passed the shades back to her.

"Sorry about last night," he said. "It got way too D&M. I didn't mean to let that happen."

"You weren't the only one calling the shots," Sookie reminded. She poked him in the chest. "I didn't even know you were capable of deep and meaningful. It was . . . illuminating."

Chase wasn't sure he liked that. He wasn't sure what she meant by it, anyway. He captured the intrusive finger in his fist, and Sookie didn't pull it free. "I like to be the one calling the shots," he murmured.

"I can tell." Her tone wasn't disproving. Her finger was still his.

"How about you let me organize something for us this time?" he suggested. "Something fun. Definitely not serious," he added. He wasn't sure what Sookie Logan wanted. Hell, he wasn't sure what he wanted, except to not scare her away.

"This time?" she repeated. "Do we intend to make this a habit?"

He wondered if he only imagined her looking as if she held her breath. He tugged the finger, drawing her in closer, until he could feel her heat radiating against his chest. "One thing you should know about me, Sookie Logan, is that I'm a man of habits," he whispered. "And none of them are good."

"Good habits are boring," she said. "I'd hate to be a good habit."

Her lips tantalized him. Even without sampling them for himself, Chase knew how they would taste: as habit-forming as nicotine, as blistering as that first burn of whiskey after a long day of sweat and toil and danger on the job, and as sweet as a sip of water stolen in the middle of a blaze.

The Ice Queen's lips would be hot as hell.

"Time to fill out my report." Her eyes were on his eyes, which were on her lips. She pushed away from his chest and strolled away across the tarmac. Chase watched the sensuous roll of her hips, the slight wiggle of her ass, and knew she walked like a woman on a very different runway on purpose. She was teasing him. She knew he couldn't resist watching. After a few strides, she glanced back and winked at him.

Once she had gone, Chase groaned and leaned back against the Hawk, helmet in hand. He couldn't help replaying the conversation with Hank last night, over and over and over again, until his head spun like a heliblade. He had promised Hank nothing would happen—at least, he had come as close as he ever did to promising.

Something told him that ass, those lips, were going to make him break his promise.

Chapter 8

Sookie

A man sat at the bar wearing a fire department T-shirt, and he wasn't the man Sookie Logan wanted to find.

She froze in the doorway and thought long and hard about turning around and walking back out into the night. She could ghost on Chase. He would be upset, at first, but when she got him alone later to explain, she was sure he would understand. How could he do anything but thank her for ditching out when he saw Hank sitting there at the bar?

Sookie wondered who her brother was waiting for. Maybe Hank was hoping Lana would breeze through the Well door one of these warm California nights, but something told Sookie tonight was different. She had a suspicion her brother was waiting for her, specifically.

Better not keep brother dearest waiting.

Instead of bolting, she crossed to the bar and dropped down on the stool beside him. She signaled the barkeep for her usual Long Island. She had her heart set on a drink as much as she had it set on her evening with Chase, and she wasn't going to let Hank spoil it . . . even though every instinct in her shouted at her to run from whatever problem her brother was about to present.

She wasn't that person anymore.

"Evening, Sook." Hank didn't turn to look at her. He stared at the back wall of the bar, turning his whiskey around and around in its water ring. "Heard you went to see Lana."

"Yep." Her drink arrived right on time. Sookie took a long sip as she tried to pull her thoughts together. She had expected this conversation to be about her and Chase—not about her brother's ex. "Who told you? Dyna?"

"Doesn't matter."

Dyna, Sookie thought with certainty. She was the only other person with any foreknowledge of the meeting, and judging by Hank's cold tone, he certainly hadn't stopped in to pay Lana a visit yet.

"I wish you'd stay out of things," he said.

Sookie revolved on her stool. "Excuse me?"

"I said I wish you'd stay the hell out of it," Hank ground out.

"To what it do you refer, Hank?" Sookie snapped back at him. "Because the last time I checked, there was no it. There's nothing between you and Lana, and that's just the way you wanted things."

"You're on thin ice, Sook. You don't know what the hell you're talking about."

Sookie threw up her hands. She forgot that one of those hands held her drink, and some of the tea sloshed down the side, but she ignored it. "Then why don't you enlighten me? Please, Hank, I'm really fucking begging here. Or could it be that you have nothing new to tell me, considering I was there? I know exactly what you did to fuck things up with Lana, and you didn't just ruin your own life. You ruined the lives of everyone in the blast zone!"

"I don't want you going around there again," Hank said darkly. "You hear me?"

"You don't get to tell me who I can and can't see!" she exclaimed.

"That a fact?" Hank set his drink down and turned toward her. "You certainly seem hell-bent on proving it by sneaking around with my junior squad member."

"I'm not sneaking around with anyone," Sookie lied. "And I certainly wouldn't be caught dead sneaking around with a guy like Chase Kingston."

"Caught being the operative word," Hank said. "You meeting him here tonight?"

"No!" She slammed her drink down, and now the rest of it fountained out all over the bar top. She couldn't care less that her money was wasted—there was no way in hell she was sitting here a minute longer and subjecting herself to Hank's paranoia. "You know, you picked a really inconvenient time to start pretending like you actually give a shit about me. I'm not the sad little sister you left behind you in Cedar Springs, brother. I can take care of myself."

"That a fact?" he asked again. His eyes narrowed.

"That's a threat," Sookie clarified. She threw some bills down on the bar and rose. "Stay out of my way, Hank."

"See you soon, Sook."

Sookie banged open the bar door and released a full-throated growl into the night air. If she had longer hair, she'd be pulling it out in fistfuls right about now. She had mentally primed herself for a run-in with Hank now that she knew they were both in town, but their argument had still gone worse than she had imagined. He had a way of always making her feel like the irrational little sister. Deep down, it was even worse than that—after all these years, he still had a way of making her crave his approval. Maybe that was why she closed herself off and made herself difficult.

"Sookie!"

Sookie trained her glare upward, and found herself face-to-face with Chase. He so rarely called her by her given name that she almost hadn't recognized his voice at first. He stood on the bottom step up to the bar, concern—and maybe even the spark of preemptive anger—etched on every handsome feature of his face. He knew that she hadn't come storming out for no reason, and he was clearly prepared to meet the reason.

His face was inches from her own. They had never been this close before. Standing at the top of the stairs gave her extra inches . . . and her argument with Hank had just given her a new perspective.

"What the hell h—?" Before Chase could complete the question, Sookie planted her hands on either side of his jaw and drew him in for a kiss.

She sealed her lips against his, and in the next instant, Chase was crushing his lips to hers. It was like she had fired a shot and they were off to the races, and it was the sheer instinct to conquer that seemed to propel him forward. He grabbed her waist and pulled her to him, until she was half-dangling off the top step, completely beholden to the strength of his arms. Sookie wrapped her own arms around his neck, but found she couldn't keep her hands still; they roamed up the back of his head, across the powerful, bunched muscles of his shoulders, and down the steep indent of his back. Chase was huge and hard, and in that moment, a mountain she was determined to scale. His lips claimed hers, hot and wet, and when she opened for him, he slid his tongue into her mouth.

This was wildfire country. It was only natural that their first kiss be molten.

"Sookie," Chase breathed. She wasn't aware until that moment that he had broken far enough away from her to speak. She leaned in to silence him, and Chase groaned. It seemed like he might resist, but he caved at the last second and swooped back in to catch her eager lips. Her tongue slid along the length of his, and when he groaned this time, she captured the reverberation with her mouth.

She knew what, or rather who, Chase was thinking of, and she didn't want him to think anymore. Hell, she didn't want to think about what would happen if Hank found them out here like this, and Chase didn't even know she had left her brother back there in the bar behind her. But making out on the front steps of the Well far surpassed reckless. Cedar Springs was a small town with a lively nightlife, and it surprised Sookie that no one had noticed them out here already.

Time for a change of scenery.

"Take me," she panted as she pulled away.

"Where?"

"Anywhere. The alley."

Chase didn't require more direction than that. He hoisted her up, and Sookie wrapped her legs around him. She kissed every inch of him she could reach as he carried her around back behind the Springs Well.

The alleyway was cramped, but it was darker than the town's well-lit Main Street. Sookie thought it would serve their purposes nicely. Chase wasted no time in thrusting her up against the wall and continuing where they had left off.

With her body pinned beneath his, his hands were free to roam over every inch of her. Sookie gasped and arched as his questing fingers explored her curves; hell, she was pretty sure she purred. Their kisses now were a series of short collisions as they tried to multitask. She grasped the collar of his shirt and attempted to pull it over his shoulders in the same instant Chase shoved his hands up under her shirt. The branding heat of his palms against her bare skin was a delicious shock, and Sookie cried out with surprise.

"Shhh," Chase hissed. He caught her mouth in his, and his fingers delved their way beneath the underwire of her bra. Her nipples were already hard despite how warm it was; it was because of the way Chase kissed her, a fact he discovered now for himself. He gripped her breasts, rolling the taut flesh. The rough massaging of his hands felt incredible, but it was when he backed off enough to pinch the flushed pink end of her left nipple that the sensation sparked and soared. Sookie bit down on her lower lip over another cry of delight.

Chase must have liked what he saw in her face. He pushed her shirt up and bent his head beneath her; the next instant, Sookie felt him draw her nipple into the wet, velvet paradise of his mouth. Her breath came in shallow, appreciative gasps. Further down, yet to be discovered by Chase, her underwear was getting soaked.

She reached for the front of his jeans and wrenched them open impatiently. The button flew off and sailed into the darkness of the alley, where it hit the ground with a little metallic ping! and rolled beneath the dumpster, never to be heard from again.

"Impatient little thing," Chase growled against her mouth. He strained closer, as eager to be free as Sookie was to get her hands on him. She found the length of his cock, long and hot and still swelling, and gasped along with him. She had figured from the way Chase carried himself that he was above average, but this just might be bigger than anything she had ever handled before.

"Surprised?" he asked her in breathless amusement

Sookie was trying to see between them in the dark, and now she glanced up sharply. "I've seen my fair share of these, Hotshot."

"Not what I meant."

Sookie decided not to dignify his fishing for compliments with a response. She tugged his cock a little more roughly than was necessary to get him out of his pants, and Chase hissed.

"Easy."

"I intend to be," she said mischievously.

"Nothing about trying to get into your pants thus far has been what I would consider easy," he pointed out. "Speaking of which . . ."

Sookie gasped and laughed as Chase lifted her up off the ground again. The way he manhandled her made her feel almost as weightless as she did when she flew. She undid her pants and pushed them down her legs. When he set her down again, their shirts quickly followed.

They stood apart for a moment to study one another in the dark. Sookie loved the way his eyes dragged over her bare curves, as if he could physically reach out and touch her with his gaze. He could touch her, very easily, but he seemed to be holding himself back. She wondered if he was trying to savor the sights as much as she was.

But this wasn't the time to halt activities. They could admire each other later, when they weren't both standing half-naked in a small-town alleyway that might or might not be infrequently trafficked by other people. Sookie pulled at him, and he attacked her mouth with new fervor. Her pulse sped. She knew what the intensity of his kisses meant. Chase ground his hips against hers, thrusting slowly. She wondered if he even noticed he did it. His erection felt as big as a battering ram against her inner thigh, and Sookie knew the intention behind it was the same.

"You packing?" she gasped when Chase next released her mouth.

He grinned at her in the dark. "You tell me."

"I meant a condom, genius."

His jeans still hung around his hips, and he reached now into his pocket to draw out a thin black package. He wagged it at her, and Sookie rolled her eyes.

"Ambitious of you."

"I like to be prepared," he said modestly.

"I meant the size."

"It's cute of you to worry if it will be enough to sheath my enormous cock." Chase bent beside her ear to whisper the words, hot breath ghosting along her face and neck. "But I think I'll manage to fit, somehow."

Sookie shivered at the promise. Now her panties had really outlived their usefulness. She dropped them like a bad habit as Chase unrolled his rubber. As soon as he was ready, he took hold of her and lifted her back up against the wall. Sookie threw a leg over his hip and straddled his waist, heart beating like a war drum in her chest. She felt the thick head of him press at her entrance. The pressure built, and then Chase slid a few inches inside her.

"You're so wet," he moaned. He eased in a few inches more.

Sookie's head fell back and struck the hard brick of the wall, but she barely noticed the pain. She couldn't bring herself to focus on anything other than Chase's thick cock, stretching and stretching her until she felt she would burst. Every time she thought he was in all the way, he gave her another inch. By the time he sank into her fully, she was shuddering. She wrapped her other leg around him and linked her ankles behind his back.

"Too much for you, Angel?" Chase's lips were still by her ear. His tone was teasing, but Sookie sensed the concern behind the question was real. She shook her head, then turned into his mouth.

"More," she breathed.

"Roger that," he murmured.

For a man who claimed to call the shots, he certainly took instruction well. Sookie wrapped herself around him as his hips began to move. His cock plunged deeper into her, and she moaned as he struck the sweet spot secreted within her that made her see bursts of starry silver behind her eyes. His next thrust sent her several inches up the wall, and she clutched for the back of his head. His mouth found her breast, bare and bouncing beneath her hiked bra, and he nipped her areola lightly with his teeth. The hot sweep of his tongue tasted the tender area in the next instant, in time to his thrust, and Sookie cried his name.

She had never screamed a lover's name before.

"You hear something?" There was another voice, suddenly. It sounded distant enough to be an ocean away, but Sookie pulled herself back from the brink of near orgasm (she never came this fast, normally!) and snapped to attention at once.

"Chase!" she hissed.

"Say my name, baby." He rutted into her, and Sookie had to rip her hand away from the back of his head to clap it down over her mouth and suppress a moan. Without any other means to warn him, she used her other hand to swat his head. He only seemed to get more into it then, and had her by both wrists before she could struggle against him anymore.

"Chase! There's someone outside the alley!"

For a man mid-fuck, he certainly reacted quickly to the possible news of being caught. He whisked her off the wall and carried her around behind the dumpster.

Sookie wrapped her legs tighter around him and buried her face in his neck, watching the smear of streetlight recede over his shoulder. The dumpster hid them completely as Chase backed them behind it and pressed her into the wall once more.

They froze together, holding their breath as one. Chase's cock was still buried inside her, and Sookie ached to wiggle her hips and regain that delicious friction. Her alerted brain was at complete war with what her body thought it needed. Chase, too, seemed to be having trouble concentrating. He kept nuzzling her temple, and the pressure of his hands on her arms was possessive. Even if they were discovered, Sookie had her doubts he would break apart from her until he’d finished.

The voices receded once more into the night. Chase began to rock into her once more, and she scrambled for a firmer grip. For the first time that evening, she was starting to think she had acted rashly, that she had made a mistake. What if they were discovered? Everyone in Cedar Springs would know that Sookie Logan had put out for a firefighter. She would never hear the end of the whispers. She would have to run again, if only to escape them—but she knew, deep down in her core, that she could never run far enough or fast enough to forget this night.

There was no going back. The sex sizzled. It was everything she had never known she needed from a man. It was too much.

"Chase!" she gasped again. Why fight her need to plead with him? His name still lingered in the air between them from when she had shouted it earlier.

His fingers manacled her wrists and pinned them above her head. His hips surged in a hypnotic rhythm, and she undulated to meet him, thrust for thrust, riding his cock like an expert. You'd think she'd done this before in the alleyway behind the Well, the way she carried on, but Sookie was convinced that they were the ones christening it there and then. She couldn't imagine anyone else from this small town going out on such a reckless limb.

"Fuck, I'm going to come." Chase gritted. His thrusts picked up. He flattened her against the wall with his chest, and Sookie couldn't have escaped him if she wanted to.

She held on for dear life as she felt her own orgasm start to build. His cock drove into her, relentless in its quest for completion, until there was no holding herself back anymore.

Sookie wailed as she came, a high, wordless cry that would be unmistakable in nature to anyone passing by. Pleasure rolled through her in waves that rippled all the way to her fingers. Her toes curled. Her thighs shook.

Maybe it was the way she clenched herself in that moment that put Chase over the edge. He buried himself inside her and held his position, snaking his arms around her and clutching her close. Sookie drew his left ear between her teeth and was rewarded with a gasp and shudder. Chase's fingers dug crescents into the flesh of her leg as he spent himself inside her. Sookie still rode the aftershocks of her own orgasm and enjoyed that she shared it with him.

He finally relaxed enough to slump against her. Sookie once more summoned the part of her brain that wasn't pure animal instinct in an attempt to gather her thoughts. She knew one thing right off the bat.

That was the best goddamn sex she had ever had.

She knew now what it meant to have her mind blown. It meant she couldn't readily think of what to say next. Words suddenly seemed much cheaper when you could communicate what Chase had done with his body alone. Sookie had never felt so worshipped, so wanted. It was a feeling she could get used to. It was a feeling probably best observed from a safe distance, bottled up in a viewing globe where it couldn't impress upon you or hurt you directly.

But it was too late now. Sookie had shattered the globe, and the truth of what Chase could make her feel raged uncontained. They had just shared their first thoroughly-good fuck, and already she was imagining a hundred and one other ways to lead Chase into temptation and do it all over again.

"We could be in town a while, you know," she murmured as Chase pulled away from her. "We could make this a regular thing."

"I knew you'd be a bad habit," he mused.

She laughed lightly, breathlessly, and was surprised when his hand came up to push a stray strand of disheveled hair from her face.

"We need to establish some rules," she said, all at once. She didn't know what it was about his gentle touch that startled her, but she suddenly felt like a jittery rabbit in negotiations with a fox. She needed to get a handle on the situation first. "No telling my brother. Obviously."

Chase groaned. "At least let me put my dick away before we start talking about Hank."

"You're the one who said you wanted something not serious," Sookie pointed out as Chase tucked himself away and zipped up the front of his pants. The metallic tear it made in the night air was so deliciously illicit that Sookie licked her lips. Sex with Chase had been phenomenal, but shadowy alcoves and secrecy was another component she intended to enjoy.

Because if she didn't have fun, and fun only, with this, she might actually stop to think about why she was doing this in the first place. It was the mental jigsaw puzzle she had tried to piece together last night, all over again.

Why had she let things escalate with Chase? Was it because he was arrogant and dead sexy and everything her heart warned her to stay away from—and everything her traitorous body wanted at the end of the night? Did her shitty relationship with Hank factor into the equation at all? She couldn't deny that Chase's appeal had increased the moment she learned he was a member of her brother's squad—but that was also admitting the appeal had been there to begin with.

She liked Chase. A lot. That was a big problem. That's why rules were so important. A part of her suspected that she needed them more than he did, but she also couldn't shake the impression that he had his own wounds.

Rules, then, would help them pretend otherwise.

Chase grinned down at her in the dark. "Just a fling, then?"

Sookie nodded. "Absolutely. No strings attached, whatsoever."

"Because usually when I make this arrangement with a girl, things don't turn out the way we both agreed they would.”

"I told you, Hotshot," she said testily. "I'm not like any girl you've ever met before."

"You could say that again," Chase growled. His lips were on her neck again in the next instant, and Sookie sighed with pleasure.

She threaded her fingers through his short-cropped hair and let her head fall back. She gazed up at the Cedar Springs stars swimming above and lost herself in the moment. Chase's mouth was more than competent; it was well-versed in everything it did to her. It made her blood sing beneath the skin he nipped and sucked.

Please let this be a fling, she prayed to the smoke-obscured heavens above. I've tried for years to fly above it all. Please don't let me fall now.

Chapter 9

Chase

Later that week, Chase was on trench duty. He stabbed, shoved, and shoveled his way down toward the earth's core, but the dirt never seemed to rearrange permanently, not unless you stepped back to really look at it . . . but that involved less digging.

The sooner this assignment ended, the better, so far as he was concerned. The sooner the ditch got dug, the sooner he could take a real crack at that bitch of a fire.

His muscles burned. He had discarded his shirt hours ago and couldn't remember anymore where he’d set it. Sweat boiled off him under the oppressive California sun, but he'd rather be sweating due to a different and more dangerous heat exposure. He itched to take the blaze on, to channel all that he had learned and turn it against a real force of nature.

There was no other way of knowing what he was made of.

Wish I was in the air with Sookie right now.

His own thoughts surprised him, and he stopped digging. He was pretty sure there had to be a rule against wishing, and if not, he decided to instate one now. Thinking about the sexy little pilot when they weren't screwing in a back alley—or anywhere else that might strike their fancy—was a definite step in the wrong direction. This was a fling. This was fun.

It couldn't be anything more than that.

"Hey, bud, pass me the water?" he asked the guy working beside him. Chase swiped a forearm across his brow, and then reached out to receive the canteen. The Alaskan squad was paired with some of the local fighters today . . . only it wasn't a local standing beside him now, shovel in hand. At least, it wasn't the local he’d expected to find.

His chief's hand was attached to the offered canteen. Hank nodded grim acknowledgement, and Chase accepted. He wasn't about to die of thirst out of fear Hank had changed his mind about laying him out.

"All this sun getting to you yet, Kingston?" Hank asked as he turned back to the trench.

Chase guzzled water before dumping some of it over his scalp. He shook his head like a dog shedding a sudden rain from its fur.

Hank took it for his response. "It'll catch up with you if you're not careful," he warned.

Chase grinned roguishly. "Careful's my middle name, Chief."

Hank snorted. "Not fucking likely."

"That why you won't let me get a crack at that fire?" Chase tried to keep his tone conversational as he resumed digging. "You don't think I know how to be careful?"

"I won't let you near it because it's still something you think you can take a crack at," Hank said. "You know what kind of man takes a fire like this lightly?"

"A dead one?"

Chase had heard it all before. Hank neither confirmed nor denied the morbid punchline, just turned away to continue his dig. Silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the sound of metallic scooping and the flinty spark of an occasionally struck rock.

"You slept with my sister yet?" Hank asked him.

Chase's heel slipped on the shovel blade. He nearly fell on his ass in surprise, but regained his balance at the last instant. He didn't know if Hank had noticed, but he needed to answer the question, and quick, to keep the conversation flowing naturally.

"No." The lie was out of his mouth before he could weigh if it was ill-advised.

"Huh." Hank made a noncommittal sound and kept digging.

Chase resumed his own work, but he could barely concentrate on the task at hand. He risked a follow-up. "Why'd you ask? She acting like she's seeing somebody?"

"She's acting like a goddamn pain in my ass," Hank replied. "Business as usual. I avoid talking to her, and she hates me. I try to talk to her, and she hates me worse."

"Tough break," Chase noted. He was trying for politeness. If he got Hank going down this track, maybe the chief would forget all about his first line of questioning.

No such luck. "That girl's been hurt before. She's got horrible taste in men. No offense."

"I doubt she has any real taste for me, so no offense taken," Chase said.

"Whether she has a taste for you or not, I want you to stay away," Hank warned. "I overreacted when I confronted you the other night, but she's my sister, Chase. We may be estranged, but that doesn't mean I love her any less. And you have a reputation, kid."

"Do I?" Chase jammed the shovel down and ignored the similar stab he felt in his chest. He knew he had a reputation—he had built it deliberately after Sheila, his ex, took off. If the implosion of their relationship had taught him anything, it was the value in being perceived as a player. If his reputation preceded him, then every hookup that followed came without strings attached.

"I know Sook acts tough, but she's more fragile than she lets on," Hank continued. "Always has been. I just don't want to see her get hurt."

"Seems to me like she can take care of herself," Chase said, a little too quickly.

Hank laughed. "Yeah. She's good at looking that way, isn't she?"

* * *

This latest conversation with Hank bothered Chase even more than the first. After the day's labors, he was exhausted, and the chief's relentless hounding was starting to take a toll on him as well. He didn't like lying to Hank about the man’s sister, but what was the alternative? Admitting to the man he respected above all others that he and Sookie were shacking up together? He'd be dead before he could offer anything even resembling an excuse.

Didn't put him off wanting to see Sookie, though. Not in the fucking slightest.

"There you are!" Sookie waved to him from the bar at Dyna's. The bell hadn't even chimed; Chase hadn't yet shouldered his way fully through the front door. She must have been watching the entrance for him. Something about that tickled his ego—or at least, he thought it must be his ego. It made him feel damn good, at any rate, and he hadn't felt really good all day. He pulled his cap off as he joined her at the bar.

"Rough day?" Sookie butted her shoulder against his affectionately.

"With that bastard brother of yours around trumpeting orders? Always."

"You were complaining just yesterday in the Hawk that he wasn't working you hard enough." Sookie toyed with the straw of her drink, then bent her head and made a show of wrapping her lips around it. Chase's mouth went dry, but it had nothing to do with his envy regarding a drink. He could all too easily imagine what it would be like to have that voluptuous mouth wrapped around his dick and sucking him dry. "That's too bad," Sookie said finally, as she concluded her little show and drew back. "I was hoping you had a bit of stamina left in you."

Chase's cock twitched at the veiled offer. "Yeah?" He glanced toward the kitchen, but Dyna was busy filling orders with her back turned to them.

"I'm going to powder my nose," Sookie said. She extricated herself from her stool and disappeared around the corner to the bathroom. Sookie didn't wear a dab of makeup, as far as Chase knew.

He waited a minute, then shoved off from the bar and followed her into the restroom. The moment the door latched, her mouth closed over his. He shot the lock behind them.

Ten minutes later, he walked out first. He glanced around casually, smoothed his hair, and took a seat. When Sookie rejoined him, her hair wasn't as disheveled as he’d left it back in the bathroom . . . but her pretty face was still flushed from exertion.

"Fucking hell," he muttered. "I didn't know how bad I needed that."

"See?" she said perkily as she dropped back down beside him. "I told you this arrangement would work. When you fight fires for a living, you gotta find other ways to blow off steam."

Dyna dinged the bell on the kitchen counter to notify the wait staff the next order was up. She raised an eyebrow at the two of them sitting together. Sookie caught the look, but played it off as if she hadn't. "We'll have two of the specials, please, Dyna, when you have a moment."

"Two specials coming right up." Dyna bustled off without resolving the question in her eyes.

"What's the special?" Chase asked belatedly, after Dyna had already gone.

Sookie smiled mysteriously. "I guess you'll find out." She went around the counter to refill her coffee and filled up a mug for Chase as well. She passed it to him. She already knew from their pre-flight briefings at the station that he took it black.

They lapsed into a companionable silence. It said something about a woman when her silences were as interesting as her conversation. Chase watched Sookie play with the short, dark fringes of her hair. She did it often, unconsciously. It was obvious she had cut it recently and was still getting used to it. "Your brother's worried about you, you know," he mentioned.

Sookie pulled a face. "As far as I'm concerned, Hank can go . . ."

But what Hank could go do with himself was to remain a mystery. Sookie cut herself off and turned, smiling beatifically as Dyna personally delivered their orders. Chase's mouth watered at the sight of steak and mashed potatoes filling the plate in front of him. A quick screw followed by a sizzling steak. What more could a man ask for after a long day's work?

"I don't want to think about Hank," Sookie concluded as she dived into her own steak. "He had his chance years ago, and he blew it. He has absolutely no right to worry about me. I can handle myself. And anyway, I want our time together to be ours."

"Some would call that a date," Chase joked.

Sookie laughed along with him. "Some would," she agreed.

"But at least one of us reminds me at every opportunity that she's not like other people," Chase pointed out.

Sookie swallowed a mouthful and grinned. "See? You're catching on." She stabbed at her potatoes happily. "And anyway, you're not so normal yourself, Hotshot."

"No?"

"No. You flew all the way down here from Alaska to personally battle, in your words, a real bitch of a fire. I'd say that definitely doesn't constitute as normal."

"Aren't you glad I did?" Chase queried, quirking a skeptical eyebrow.

Sookie just snorted . . . which wasn't a no, Chase thought to himself.

They finished their meal without any more mention of Hank, which was fine by him. He had regretted it the moment he’d brought the other man up, but he had been surprised when Sookie didn't immediately bite his head off. A part of him suspected he was the only real link she had to her brother, considering she refused to forge one herself.

The joke about their 'date' continued when Chase offered to buy her meal, and Sookie accepted. He caught Dyna's sharp look of warning as they exited together. He put his cap back on just so he could tip it to the woman in acknowledgement. He didn't need her cautioning him about what he was getting into with the Logans by taking Sookie out. The thought preoccupied his mind almost more than the fire these days.

Outside, they lingered on the front step. A warm evening wind gusted between them, rifling their civilian clothes. Sookie seemed to be avoiding his eyes in an attempt to play it cool, but when she finally did meet his gaze, Chase felt a tiny shockwave ripple through him. She looked half-amused, half-expectant.

"Want to go for another . . . walk?" he suggested.

"If we go for any more 'walks', I'm afraid I won't be able to walk straight before the week is out!" Sookie laughed, but her hand slipped into his back pocket companionably.

"Are you really afraid?" he asked.

"Fuck, no."

Her answer was immediate, and it made Chase wonder what he’d meant by his question. He thought he had been playing along with their usual banter, but maybe he had been asking something else. Don't overthink it, he warned himself. Overthinking usually led him into more trouble than he was prepared to deal with. Hank might accuse him of being young and reckless, of improvising without a thought or plan for the future, but Chase privately considered this a strength. If you didn't adhere to anyone's expectations from the start, then you never wound up disappointing them. It was something he had picked up along the way.

It was something he wished he had learned sooner.

Chase blinked and realized Sookie was looking at him expectantly. They still stood together on the steps. "I'm not afraid," she reiterated suddenly. "To do this. Whatever it is."

"Neither am I," he told her. When he held out his hand for her, she surprised him by taking it. He stepped down to the street, and Sookie slipped in beside him. "Just a fling," he added.

"Just a fling."

Chapter 10

Sookie

The fire blazed out of control.

In her recent nightmares, Sookie had awakened in a cold sweat—a hard thing to accomplish most California nights at the height of summer—haunted by images of the wildfire raging all around her. She wasn't alone; the Hawk was grounded there with her, but no matter how hard she tried, no matter what she did or the desperate tricks she pulled, she couldn't get her beloved bird into the air. She was trapped in the cockpit, strapped in . . . she had retreated as far as she could go, and the inferno was bearing down on her on all sides. The glass cracked, and the sweat vaporized off her skin, and then . . .

It was over. She woke up.

This time, the fire wasn't a dream.

"Look at that!" Raj gave a low whistle into his mic, one that Sookie wasn't sure the copilot even realized he’d vented, but she had to agree with his sentiment.

At least I'm the air, she thought as she circled the burning blaze in her Hawk. She had always felt powerful beneath the spinning propellers, like she could slice the atmosphere to pieces if she had to, but no amount of fanciful thinking on her part could change the reality unfolding below her. The fire had more than crept, it had jumped—across a river, to be exact—and now raged beyond what any of them had expected or predicted. Must have been the wind, she thought, carrying a spray of embers across the water to ignite the trees on the other side . . .

"Sook? You there?" Hank's voice crackled over her headset.

"Hank!" she breathed. "Thank God. We lost communication when you went into that last patch."

"Don't thank God for me yet," her brother advised, and it was only then that Sookie realized she had said it out loud. She wondered what her brother would think of that . . . if they had had time to think at all in this situation.

She quickly filled him in on what she was seeing and heard in return the immediate cold acceptance in her brother's voice. "We had guessed it might jump," he said. "Listen, Sook, I can't stay on this line for long. Just wanted to tell you the squad's en route and coming to back you up."

The squad? Sookie's pulse beat in her ears louder than the wind—almost louder than Hank's voice. Chase.

Of course he would be there. What did she think he was in town for? Hadn't they bragged to each other these past weeks about their individual progress on this fire, almost as much as they’d wrestled between the sheets?

"Sook? You read me?"

"Loud and clear," Sookie affirmed as soon as she could be sure her voice sounded the same on both counts. "Be safe out there."

"See you back at the base. Over and out."

Several hours later, she touched down in the Black Hawk, and then she did something totally inadvisable: She launched herself out of the cockpit almost before the wheels touched the pad, leaving Raj and Frank to deal with the mop-up. She didn't have to search long. Hank, Garrett, and Chase were talking just inside the shade of the hangar, their expressions sober. Only Hank had taken his helmet off. They looked almost as if they were about to head right back out.

"Chase!" Sookie shouted his name, louder than she intended, but no sound came out. She realized belatedly that she still wore her noise-cancelling headphones and wrenched them off her head. Chase turned, and when he saw her, he started toward her—only Sookie got to him before he could take a half-dozen steps.

She stopped just short of barreling into him. Hank gave them both a long, irritated look, but then he left without a word. It was progress . . . in as much as Sookie thought Hank was capable of progress.

For a wild moment, she caught herself wanting to leap into Chase's arms. She knew from the look on his face that he'd be ready for it, too. Maybe he wanted it even more than she did. Instead, Sookie breathed in deeply and tried to focus on slowing her racing heart. "Everything all right?" she asked him.

"It's fine," Chase said. "Hank's just . . . probably trying to ignore the fact that we're screwing. He has to know by now."

Sookie shook her head, amusement tugging at the edges of her lips. "I meant you. Are you all right?"

"Hell, yes. Never been better!" He drew her in against him, for once heedless of who might be watching. "You know that fire's no match for us!"

Sookie loved the way he said us, obviously including more than just his squad, and she loved it even more when he took his helmet off and tipped it down over her eyes. "I was going to tell you not to get a big head, but too late," she remarked as she pushed it back up.

The way he was gazing at her, she thought he would kiss her right then and there on the tarmac . . . but whatever impulse she saw flicker in his eyes, he resisted it. She had done the same when she didn't run right into his arms, she reminded herself, in an attempt to not feel too disappointed. "You’re filthy," she pointed out.

"So I've been told."

She sighed. "No, I mean really filthy. Outwardly dirty. Physically unclean. Dermatologically—"

"I get the picture, nerd." Unable to pull her any closer, Chase settled for grinding his pelvis against hers, and she giggled, actually giggled, a bubbling laugh she had worked for years to suppress. She glanced around quickly, half to be sure no one had seen the lewd move, and half to be sure that no one had heard her. "Question is, what are you going to do about it?" Chase asked her.

"I have a few ideas."

The first idea Sookie had was totally unsexy, and that was to complete her landing checklist, so she gave Chase a playful shove, paired with a wicked look that promised, Later, and headed back out to the chopper.

Frank was waiting for her, impatiently tapping his foot, his wisps of hair askew as if he had just been blown by a strong wind (which, considering his constant proximity to the helicopters, he had). He thrust the clipboard into her chest and turned to stoop beneath the Hawk to start registering complaints. Meanwhile, Raj looked pointedly toward the hangar and then back at Sookie, giving her a grin and a discrete thumbs-up, before apparently becoming completely absorbed in his own copy of the checklist.

She reunited with Chase afterward, and the two of them went back to her place. There was no chance of them going to the temporary lodgings Chase shared with the rest of the squad. While Sookie's housing situation was equally temporary, the little one-bedroom afforded them some privacy, at least, to go at it like rabbits in the off-hours.

Chase had been over almost every night since their first encounter in the Well's alleyway. It was getting harder and harder to sleep restfully through the nights he wasn't there, though Sookie had already convinced herself that her nightmares were completely unrelated to the stress she felt when Chase wasn't there. It was good to have another body beside you, that was all, even if Chase's base temperature tended to burn them both up like he was a human furnace. Clothes rarely factored into their nightly routine anymore. It was the first time in her life Sookie had ever consistently slept naked, and there was really no going back to a camisole and cotton shorts after that. She supposed she would, one day, when the National Guard assigned her somewhere cold, and her fling with Chase was just a distant memory.

But she chose not to think about that now.

"Come on, Hotshot." As soon as they got home (and she really needed to stop thinking about it as home), Sookie took him by the hand and led him to the shower. Chase went obediently.

She ran the water and undressed him slowly. He let her do it, watching her with a curious expression all the while. Sookie staunchly avoided looking him too closely in the face. She was afraid of what she might find there.

She wasn't sure if it was the weight of Chase's look she feared more, or the way her heart clenched every time she thought too hard about how things could have gone differently today—whatever it was, it made her eyes slip off his face time and again. She focused on the task at hand.

As soon as he was completely naked, Sookie stripped out of her own clothes. Steam rose from the shower, although she hadn't cranked it too hot. She backed into the tub and drew Chase along with her.

She started slow. She lathered the bar of soap in her hands, then worked the lather into his face, neck, and shoulders. Her fingers didn't shy from any of the territory, and they weren't gentle. Chase groaned at the deep intensity of her massage, and beneath the water, Sookie felt his muscles start to slowly relax.

He had been carrying a hell of a lot of tension. It was only then she realized how good he normally was at hiding it.

He watched her, head bent, water streaming off his forehead. She still tried not to look at him too closely, but when he caught her wrist and paused her activities, it couldn't be helped. When he captured her chin, she raised it. When his lips lowered, hers soared to meet him. The inside of his mouth was hotter than the shower they were sharing. She tasted the darkness of the coffee they had both downed at the station that morning, and smelled more than a hint of the smoke still clinging to him despite her best efforts to get it off him. Gray water swirled down the drain between them as the ash that streaked his hair and face slowly bled away.

Sookie hadn't intended to have sex. It had just seemed like the most logical thing, to share a shower and conserve water. But she could feel Chase's erection butting its way between her thighs, and she knew the monster had intentions of its own. A guiding hand on her waist turned her around, and she complied, pulse hammering with excitement.

His fingers found her slit and pried it open. Sookie moaned and wiggled against him. Chase slowly inserted one digit, and then two, stretching her in preparation. Her clit throbbed, and he found that, too. He pressed and rolled the hard bead of flesh with his thumb until Sookie moaned again.

She reached behind herself, grasping for him, unwilling to wait any longer. Her fingers closed over his cock and guided it to her. His dome slotted itself at the entrance to her passage, and Chase eased his way inside.

It was slow going at first. The shower was significantly more cramped than the alley where they’d first hooked up, and the water made it difficult to find purchase, but Sookie braced herself against the wall and arched her spine as best she could. She was rewarded for her efforts when Chase's cock slipped all the way inside her. He groaned with surprise at the ease with which he penetrated. Sookie threw her head back, wet hair whipping behind her.

Chase thrust into her, and his plunges matched the driving of the water pelting down onto her back. Sookie moaned. The acoustics of the shower amplified the noise, and the noise amplified the intensity of Chase's desire.

"Mmm!" The force of his next thrust nearly flattened her face against the wall. "Ah! Ah!"

"Yeah, baby. Come on, baby," he coaxed behind her.

"Yes! Just like that . . . oh God, yes," she answered him. His hands were on the slippery slope of her ass, digging in hard, cutting her pleasure with a delicious spark of pain. Their flesh slapped together, harder, faster, until even her wild cries couldn't drown out the sound completely. She threaded a hand down between her legs, eager to touch herself, and her fingers forked around his cock as he slammed its girth inside her again and again. Feeling how big he was, how he filled her, was almost enough to make her pass out.

"Oh God, Chase, I'm going to come!" she shouted.

He didn't relent. His thrusts picked up the pace as she went rigid in his grasp. He jackhammered, hips pumping, as Sookie cried and fell hard over that final ledge.

Orgasm erupted inside her, impossibly huge, so big a sensation that she didn't think her body could possibly hold it. She moaned and trembled all over as her fingers worked herself between her legs, milking every last jolt. Chase was like a machine, never stopping, never ceasing, not a single hitch in his unabating rhythm. To Sookie's astonishment, she could feel something starting to build inside her again.

"Oh, fuck," she moaned. "Oh, Chase, yes . . .!"

"Come with me this time, baby." He wrapped a hard arm around her sternum and pulled her in close. Her breasts bounced with the force of his driving hips. He exhaled a loud moan, completely unrestrained, and his obvious pleasure alone was enough to put her over.

He shot his load as Sookie came again in the same instant, soaring high and spiraling down, down, like the milk-white threads of Chase's seed that swirled down the drain.

It was all she could do to keep herself standing upright after that. She was so totally spent that she would have collapsed beneath him, if it weren't for Chase's arm keeping her firmly affixed in place. She stayed standing, enjoying the warm, solid feel of him behind her. He placed a kiss on her shoulder, and Sookie turned her head to catch his lips lazily with her own. "Mmm," she mumbled. It was all she could manage until intelligible words returned to her.

"Yeah," Chase agreed.

They waited to get out until the water ran cold. Chase kept a duffle bag at her house, now, with a change of clothes. Sookie kicked it out from beneath the bed for him as she sat down to towel her hair off. She supposed she could spare one of the dresser drawers for him, but it seemed counterproductive to the fast and fleeting nature of their fling. It seemed like a step in the wrong direction, somehow . . . still, she kept thinking about extending the invitation, and suspected she would, eventually. It just makes sense, she assured herself. Like the shower.

Chase didn't pick up his bag immediately. He gazed at her perched on the bed. He seemed to have forgotten she could see him doing it.

"What's that look for?" You've been wearing it all day, she thought. It was the look she hadn't let herself notice until now.

"You're just beautiful." Chase's tone was unapologetic. Sookie stared. He nodded, shrugged, and turned away to get dressed. She knew it hadn't been a casual observation, though. A man didn't say something out of the blue like that, with that much ease, if he hadn't been thinking about it for a long time.

It had been the comment of someone who was getting attached.

Sookie's heart stammered in its rhythm. It was on the tip of her tongue to remind Chase to keep his distance emotionally. She would just be watching his back for him, same as she did out on the grid. He would probably thank her for it . . . but instead of issuing a warning, Sookie rose and crossed to him.

Chase turned, and his arms came up to receive her as she slipped her own around his neck. She kissed him, long and lingering. When she drew back, his eyes were hooded, and she knew it had been as good for him as it had been for her.

"What was that for?" Chase asked her.

"Nothing in particular," she lied. Hearing herself say it out loud was important.

"I've got half the day off tomorrow," he mentioned. "How would you feel about getting out of town? Not far, just . . . a little way out?"

Sookie thought about it. "I'm on duty . . ." she said slowly. "But I can trade my spot on the roster and meet you after, if that works."

Chase's lip curled in a crooked smile. "It's a date," he said.

Sookie swatted his bicep. "We'll have to come up with another term for it."

"Why? It's what I intended. To ask you on a date."

Her mouth went dry, suddenly, unexpectedly. She should call him out, work herself up to anger. Chase watched her war with herself.

"I said it on purpose, Sookie," he reiterated.

Break it off! the rational voice inside her shouted, so loud she was surprised Chase couldn't hear it himself. Break it off now, Sookie, or let yourself be the one broken!

She knew the danger. She knew ending the fling, here and now, would be the cruel—and right—thing to do. And wasn't that the point of a fling? To be able to terminate it at a moment's notice without causing all the damage and destruction that came with an actual failed relationship.

I can't, the irrational voice inside her argued helplessly. I can't. And she knew it was the voice she didn't want to listen to that spoke the truth.

Like the fire today, the situation with Chase had taken an unexpected turn. It could wreak havoc on her, maybe even destroy her. She wished the wrong thing didn't feel so damn right in this instance.

"Okay . . . it's a date, then. It better be fucking epic, though," she quipped.

Chase grinned. "All right. I can do epic. But you gotta dress up."

"How the hell am I supposed to manage that with you around?" Sookie laughed, because now Chase was on top of her on the bed, straddling her waist, taking the towel from her fingers and guiding her down onto her back.

"Good question. I regret I don't have an answer for you," he said between fervent kisses. "I'm sure you'll come up with something."

Chapter 11

Chase

Chase took his most recent paycheck and rented a car. He met Sookie outside her place the next evening. He was surprised to find it wasn't a National Guard pilot who descended the steps to meet him, but a tight little cowgirl. Sookie had it all: the red leather boots, the red checkered shirt that tied around her midriff (without ever really covering said midriff), and a pair of light denim Daisy Dukes that taut bottom of hers barely filled. She had her short chocolate hair styled to one side, and it rippled with her enhanced curls beneath the brim of her red cowboy hat.

Chase rose up out of the car and whistled as she strutted down the steps and struck a pose for him. "You clean up nice," he said approvingly.

"So do you," she returned. No tongue in cheek, no sarcasm—just the truth as she perceived it, and a clear hint of admiration in her voice on top of that.

Chase's chest swelled. It was the best fucking compliment a woman had ever given him. He moved quickly to pop the car door open for her, and she let him hold it as she folded herself inside. Another risk, another victory. They both knew damn well that Sookie was perfectly capable of holding her own doors.

"Where we going?" she asked as he joined her inside the car.

"Let's just say you're dressed perfectly for what I have in mind," Chase said as he backed them out of the driveway.

The ride to Red Hook, the next town over, was short and sweet—or at least, that's how it felt, having Sookie there in the car with him. She regaled him about her shift, somehow making the most routine motions of her day perilously exciting, and Chase realized that was how Sookie perceived her job. She loved flying with all her heart, and no day she spent in the sky in service to others could possibly be boring.

When the conversation lulled naturally, he reached across to squeeze her knee. He kept his hand there the rest of the way to Red Hook.

"Oh, God," Sookie said as they pulled up to the bar. "The Red Hook Hootenanny? Chase, what the hell have you done?"

"Don't pretend like this isn't the greatest date idea in the history of date ideas," he said proudly as he got out of the car. Strings of lights crisscrossed the bar's deck and patio and illuminated the evening, lending everything a festive glow that the smoke-obscured full moon could no longer provide. In fact, the lingering haze only made the lights seem to blaze all the brighter.

There were scores of people moving about, conversing and laughing with drinks in their hands as the jukebox played the night air. "Want a drink?" Chase snatched Sookie's arm and steered her toward the outdoor bar. “Your post-shift beer's on me, today."

"You keep using that word," Sookie said suddenly. Chase glanced sidelong at her as he divvied out the cash for two Buds. "Date," she clarified. "You keep saying date."

"Sorry. Would you prefer hootenanny?"

Sookie laughed, swatted his arm, and took her beer. The moment was successfully diffused, although Chase reflected that she was right. He really needed to get his terminology in order if they were going to make this fling work.

They sat down together at a nearby picnic table and watched as a group of self-styled cowboys tried to impress a gaggle of ladies with their square dancing.

"You know, I used to go to these things all the time as a kid," Chase mentioned as he leaned back. Sookie dropped her hat down on the table and lounged beside him, crossing her legs and swinging her ankle.

"Really? In Alaska?"

"No. Montana. My great-uncle had a ranch there." His mouth twisted ruefully. "Man, I loved that son of a bitch. He'd never let you tell it to him outright, but I like to think he knew where things stood between us. At the very least, he had to know I loved him more than I loved my old man."

"You weren't close with your father?" Sookie guessed.

Chase snorted. "That's the understatement of the century."

She was quiet for a long moment as they watched couples start to pair off and take to the dance floor. When he glanced over to check that she was all right, he was startled to see her eyes clouded over with sadness. He doubted she was about to cry, but he had never seen her misty-eyed before, and it startled him. The powerful urge to pull her into his arms and hold her close for the rest of the evening nearly overwhelmed him.

"I wasn't . . . I mean, I wasn't close with my father, either. With either of my parents," she said. "But I remember that when I was younger, we used to go all the time to country dances like this. I really cherished them because it felt like one of the only times we could just relax and let loose as a family . . . now that I'm older, I'm guessing the alcohol had something to do with it. It's almost enough to make me wish my parents had been drinkers." She paused again, sighed, and took a sip of her beer. "That was before the fire. I assume Hank told you all about that."

"I knew he was orphaned at a young age," Chase said cautiously. "I suppose it makes sense that you would have been, too."

Sookie stared at him incredulously. Then she burst out laughing: a deep, full-throated, delighted sound. Chase exhaled a breath he hadn't even known he was holding. For a second there, he’d been afraid she would throw her drink on him and leave because he’d made light of her past—thing of it was, he wasn't making light of it. If the conversation was heavy, he only wanted to lessen the burden Sookie carried so that she could actually feel she could open up to him.

"Phew!" she sighed and wiped her eyes in the aftermath of her episode. "You know, Chase, you really are something else. You somehow always manage to say the exact wrong thing, but it's always the thing that makes me feel better."

"Hey, now. Sometimes I get it right," he disputed.

Sookie just shook her head. "Let's skip the D and M tonight, if it's all the same to you. I'd rather throw a few back and then get thrown around the dance floor."

"Happy to oblige," Chase said. He downed his beer and signaled a passing member of the wait staff for two more . . . drawing a cry of outrage from Sookie when he revealed they were for him. Two more beers quickly followed, and then a free round of shots purchased for every man and woman, courtesy of one of the drunker cowboys.

Pretty soon, Chase's world was spinning, and it had nothing to do with the alcohol. He had Sookie in his arms and he was twirling her around and around beneath the fairy lights, and she was laughing with her head tipped back as they went. It wasn't a dance in any particular style; Chase supposed they could join with the line dance off to the side and try for something more appropriate to the setting, but the urge to break formation after falling in line the past few years of his life, now, with Sookie, was too powerful to ignore.

When the jukebox slowed its tempo down, so did he. He pulled Sookie in close, and when she pillowed her head on his chest, his heart nearly melted from the proximity.

They kept swaying even after the song ended. He gazed down at her and saw that her eyes were closed peacefully. "You falling asleep on me?" he asked.

She drew back, raised herself up on her toes, and kissed him. "Want to go home with me?" she suggested quietly.

Did she even need to ask? "You know I do."

It was only later, as Chase moved between her legs, serenaded by her sighs and moans, that he realized they hadn't escaped the evening's turn toward the deep and meaningful after all. No matter how he changed up their rhythm—no matter how he might flip their positions—the sex they kept coming back to was slow and tender. No matter how impersonal he tried to make it, she pressed the heat of her body against his and undulated her curves until they were one. He couldn't help groaning, or reaching down between thrusts to stroke her sweat-soaked hair, or let his fingers drag worshipfully along any shuddering part of her that was in reach. He was powerless to take charge like he had so many times before, and for once, Sookie didn't fight him for the fun of it. They had dropped more than their clothes at the door, and Chase had never felt so naked.

I have to end it, he thought in wonder. The next time their hips collided, the thought was blasted out of his mind. He felt like he was viewing his own realization behind a glass case at a museum, like it was ancient already, a relic from a time before he had known with certainty that he would not end it. If every room in the museum represented a part of history, then the thought of ending his fling with the gasping pilot was dated:

Before Chase Kingston fell in love with Sookie Logan.

Chapter 12

Sookie

Breakfast together at Dyna's was becoming a post-sex ritual with Chase on the nights he stayed over. Sookie had a special post-sex, pre-breakfast ritual that involved hunting the diner for any sign of her brother before sitting down.

"Hank's already been in, sweetheart," Dyna said. Her mouth was thin, but her kind eyes twinkled with both amusement and exasperation. Sookie knew where Dyna stood on her poor relationship with her brother, and she could guess the woman's opinion of Chase by proxy. Dyna didn't like seeing Sookie running around with the firefighter, but that was only because Dyna still remembered the girl Sookie had once been: fragile, uncertain, perpetually broken-hearted. Dyna couldn't know how Sookie had grown in the years since she'd skipped town, what strengths she'd gained. She couldn't know that this thing with Chase was just a fling, and that they were both happy with the arrangement they had worked out.

Sookie nodded thankfully, then glanced over her shoulder as she dropped down into her usual seat. Chase was catching up with a couple of guys from his squad. He looked perfectly at ease inside the diner, unlike the first time she’d clapped eyes on him. Despite his cocky exterior, he hadn't been able to hide the fact he was an Alaskan fish out of water—now, his familiar presence seemed to warm the diner, making even the low-lit booths and alcoves glow just a bit brighter. His booming laugh was as natural now to these surroundings as the bubble of the coffee pot or the sizzle of bacon hitting the skillet.

And God, he looked good in the morning, especially considering they rarely kept their hands off one another in the night long enough to fall asleep. She had given him the boot on more than one occasion in the beginning, even going so far as to bundle his clothes and toss them to him in the driveway when he turned his best pleading, puppy-dog eyes on her. It was all a game—they both knew she wouldn't have thrown him out if they didn't have work in the morning—and as their weeks together progressed, Chase got better and better at talking his way back in. He rarely set foot in the driveway anymore unless it had been his intention all along to leave. Sometimes it was Sookie now who pulled him back in.

When he turned and caught her looking, he grinned just for her. She quickly held up a menu to pretend like she wasn't totally busted.

What was with her this morning?

He said goodbye to his coworkers and sauntered over. "Have I told you just how damn delicious you look this morning?" His compliment drifted to her from behind the shielding menu.

"You've told me frequently," she said. Didn't matter. Her heart still thrummed every time she heard the insatiable hunger in his voice.

"Oh, I'm not talking to you," Chase corrected as he plucked the menu out of her hands. "I'm talking to the flapjacks printed on back here. Think I know what I'm ordering this morning."

Sookie snorted. "Seriously? Who calls pancakes flapjacks anymore?"

"Only true gentlemen," Chase said staunchly. "We're a dying breed."

Almost as if on cue, the bell chimed, and the diner door pushed open. Sookie was mid-eyeroll at Chase's claim, so she was the first to see the face of the man who ducked inside the establishment. The blood froze in her veins.

"I'm telling you that you scored when you met me. I'm—Sookie, what is it?" Chase gazed into her face, his smile twitching to an empty standstill. "Hank?" he guessed without turning around.

The man by the door surveyed the diner. His eyes lit on Sookie's. She rose as he started toward her . . . but managed to be standing less defensively by the time he arrived. Chase glanced between the two of them and rose as well, although he was clearly confused.

"Sookie," the man said in astonishment. "I had no idea you were in town!"

'The not-knowing was mutual," Sookie said. "Chase, this is my . . . friend. Jason. We go way back."

She thought she was being diplomatic, but Jason undercut her in the next instant. "We used to date," he explained as he extended his hand to Chase. "Pleasure to meet you." Sookie watched their hands pump, and wondered if she only imagined Jason's skin breaking out into patches of white as Chase cut off his circulation.

"Good to meet you, Jason." If it was a lie, Chase did a great job of sounding cordial.

Sookie shook her head. I'm imagining things, she thought. Worse, maybe she was actively fantasizing that Chase would feel possessive of her when confronted by a past flame. She definitely had to knock it off.

"Listen, I hope I'm not interrupting anything . . ." Jason glanced back and forth between them, ". . . but would you have time to catch up? I understand if you have plans." Another significant look at Chase.

"I've got time after my shift tonight," Sookie suggested. "I'm flying a chopper for the National Guard, but it's a routine patrol tonight. I should be back down again by seven." Admittedly, she had been looking forward to spending an evening in with Chase . . . but she had never expected the opportunity to talk to Jason face-to-face to come again. There was so much she had left unsaid between them, so much she needed to get off her chest and establish once and for all.

Jason's eyebrows rose. "No way. Now I'm really glad I happened to run into you. You'll have to fill me in on all the crazy stories you have." He nodded to himself, his gaze suddenly turned inward. He looked disappointed by his own story as he added, "I'm just in town looking after my parents' house. They couldn't make it up from Florida this year, so I came to housesit for them. You know: good son stuff," he joked.

Sookie had to laugh as well. While Jason seemed taller and more distinguished, he was still totally white bread. "Still have your old number?"

Sookie nodded.

"Great! I'll give you a call later this evening. I'll look for you!" he added, cheesily pointing upward.

Sookie shook her head, chuckling, as he walked off to take the booth Dyna had cleared for him.

"Guess we're off for tonight," Chase said.

Sookie turned back to him. His tone was neutral, but she still burned guiltily to think he had been a party to that exchange. She had jumped on Jason's invitation, afraid the chance to heal old wounds would never come again, and she had done it at the expense of a night together. Still, it wasn’t like Chase would mind, right? They had both deliberately denied themselves the privilege to mind what the other did, hadn't they?

"Yeah. Sorry about that. It's just . . ." Sookie toyed with her fork, wagging it back and forth like she could trick her brain into coming up with a better excuse through hypnosis. She settled for the truth. "Things didn't really end well between us. I always wondered if I'd get a chance to have a personal talk with him again.” She looked up and suggested quickly, “Why don't we get together tomorrow? I had such a good time last night . . . I hate to postpone any more fun we might have together." She tried on her best devilish smirk, but when Chase seemed unconvinced, she leaned in quickly to kiss him. That surprised him—they had both agreed to implement a 'no PDA' rule at Dyna's, especially after they’d nearly wrecked her restroom the last time they got feisty.

"Sounds great," he said. His eyes glanced off the clock above her head in barely the time it took to read its hands. "Hey, I gotta get to the station. Call me when you're free, all right?"

Sookie tried to mask her disappointment as he rose. They hadn't even had time to order anything together, but she supposed she should be going as well. Running into Jason, while serendipitous, had also suppressed her appetite. She knew the things she had to say to Jason, and they weren't going to be easy for either of them to digest . . . but she felt certain it would help her move forward in a positive way, and the new Sookie was all about propulsion.

She just wished she could have skipped seeing the distracted look on Chase's face. Maybe he was only thinking about his own work, Sookie reasoned, even though she knew in her heart it was a lie. Unexpectedly running into Jason had to be the reason for Chase's sudden distance, but she had faith the fireman would work through any jealousy aroused from having her ex around.

Sookie had no intention of getting back with Jason, anyway—and even if she did, it wasn’t like she and Chase were an actual item.

This will be good for us, Sookie thought as she departed for the airstrip. She had no way of knowing what Chase currently expected from their fling, but even she could see it was starting to get too cozy. Maybe Jason had arrived at the exact right moment to dump a bucket of chilly reality on her newest torch. This will be good for you, Sookie. Everything is happening in accordance to what you wanted. You're having hot, no-strings-attached fun with a smoking fireman from out of town; you get a second chance to clear things up with Jason; hell, you're even pissing off Hank with almost every breath you take. You're in complete control of your life, and you answer to no one.

Whatever was going on with Chase, she couldn't let it follow her into the air. She needed to fly with a clear head, especially since her sky was more choked with smoke each passing day.

It was getting harder to see her way clear.

Chapter 13

Chase

Fucking Jason.

"You don't look happy," Hank noted.

Chase glanced up from the foam tank he was refilling. He was confined to the airstrip today doing material prep. He supposed it was what he deserved for showing up early and appearing overzealous. He couldn't exactly tell his chief that his sudden enthusiasm stemmed from needing to get as far away from Sookie—and any ex-boyfriends—as possible.

"I'm doing grunt work." Chase made sure to grunt his response appropriately. "Forgive me if I'm not out dancing in the streets."

Hank had always driven his men hard, but recently the chief seemed to be working them harder than ever. As much as he complained, Chase didn't really mind it—usually. He had survived this long on the squad because he was a hard worker, and always pushed himself to go further, to do better. Putting up a protest was all posturing, all expected behavior, on his part.

If he was being honest with himself, he appreciated that the chief saddled him with so much responsibility. It was a stark contrast to his father. Chase didn't want to say he needed someone to impress, so . . . he wouldn't.

"You think this assignment is beneath you," Hank said as he began to pump his own tank. "But if you took a second to really think about it, you'd realize your chief is doing the fucking grunt work right alongside you. And he's faster at it. I'd leave you alone if I thought it'd make you more efficient, Kingston, but it's obvious you'd rather stew than get shit done. So what's up?"

"Nothing," Chase said.

"If you don't want to talk, I guess that's fair enough," Hank said. "I haven't exactly been welcoming our conversations recently." The chief really did seem willing to drop it, but a question itched in Chase's brain now. His tongue wagged against his clenched teeth.

"Who the hell is Jason, anyway?"

"Jason? Jason Lewis?" Hank paused in his work, looking genuinely surprised to hear the name. "He and Sookie grew up together. Everyone in town knew they were a match before they did, and, well . . . you know how small towns are. It was pretty much expected that they would get married."

Hank disappeared behind his foam tank and resurfaced moments later, wearing a meditative look. "Not entirely sure why they didn't make it, but I wasn't surprised. I always thought that guy was too serious for Sookie. She didn't need someone to control her, or try to fit her into some traditional small-town mold. Aggravating as she is sometimes, she was never someone who was meant to be tamed. A guy like Jason couldn't handle Sookie." Hank shook his head. "But they broke up after I left town. I have my opinions, but sometimes I'm not sure it's right I voice them. I wasn't the best brother to her for a while . . . and I didn't really keep myself up-to-date with her life."

"She may act like she resents it, but you have to know it means something to her that you're here now," Chase said. "Even if she can't admit it to herself."

Hank shrugged, looking unconvinced. "Jason Lewis . . ." he resumed thoughtfully. "It's been years since I thought of him. What's it all to you, anyway?"

Chase glanced up sharply, but there had been nothing in his chief's tone that implied an opinion one way or another. For once, Hank genuinely seemed as if he was just making small talk, nothing more . . . and Chase was damn suspicious of the sudden turn. Usually Hank took any interest in Sookie on Chase’s part personally. Usually the threat of flying fists seemed just around the conversational corner.

"It's not anything to me," Chase said, realizing only after the words were out that there had been no winning way to answer Hank's question. "I mean . . . it's just something to talk about. Jason's back in town, that's all."

Hank shook his head and muttered under his breath. A little louder, he said, "How'd Sookie take the news?"

Guessing we were together at the time, Chase thought. He busied himself priming the tank in front of him as he brainstormed a diplomatic way to answer. "Seems like she took it all right," he said finally. "She's going to catch up with him tonight, anyway. Doesn't seem like she's taking the idea of a reunion too badly at all."

"Something about coming back to your hometown after a long absence makes you see things different," Hank said. "It forces you to finally see all the things you might have done wrong in the past. And it puts you in a mood to fix your mistakes."

Chase's hands froze in their work. No matter how hard he tried to get them going again, they wouldn't cooperate. He avoided looking at Hank for as long as he could, but the silence stretched between them, and he finally couldn't take it anymore. He glanced up and was surprised to find Hank staring off into space. He had never known his chief to lose himself in thought almost mid-sentence like that.

Hank was obviously reflecting on something. Still, Chase couldn't help wondering if the warning was meant for him.

Hank snapped out of it eventually. "Don't worry about it right now," he advised. "You just keep focused on filling those tanks, Kingston."

"Yeah, yeah." Chase would have waved him off had he not been using both hands to prep said tank. "I'm going, I'm going."

But if Hank was right about one thing, it was that Chase's efficiency suffered from being distracted. Try as he might, he couldn't get Sookie out of his head. The memory of her wild laughter as he’d spun her around the dance floor last night persisted. When he replayed the image to its conclusion, he relived the moment he’d banded her tightly against him, followed by the moment she raised herself up to entwine her arms around his neck and seal her warm lips against his . . .

Chase shuddered and closed his eyes. He needed to back off. It would be the best thing for him—and the best thing for Sookie. He could admit now that he had failed in keeping his emotional distance—he was only human, after all—but the important thing was he had caught it in an early stage. Speculation that he was falling for his squad's Angel had been only that: speculation.

A little material prep, and he'd be ready to pursue his fling with Sookie again tomorrow. If she still wanted him. If Jason didn't manage to win back tonight what he had so idiotically let go in the first place.

Fucking Jason.

Chapter 14

Sookie

"Engaged?" Sookie repeated incredulously.

On the couch, seated across from her, Jason Lewis winced. "You don't have to sound so surprised, Sook. You could at least pretend to have guessed I was marriage material . . . considering you were the first girl I ever proposed to."

Sookie blushed. She had invited Jason over via text after she’d clocked off her shift, and had been surprised to find her ex already waiting on the porch of her rental with a six pack of beer. What started out as an awkward evening had quickly became more comfortable as they readjusted to one another . . . that is, until now.

"I didn't mean it that way, Jace. And I definitely didn't mean for you to bring up . . . you know."

Jason shook his head. "You don't have to tiptoe around my feelings. I'm over it. And from where I'm sitting, it looks like you've moved on, as well."

Sookie nodded. "I think so. Or at least, I've thought so all these years."

"Until you saw me," Jason guessed.

"Until I saw you," she agreed.

As if sensing their conversation would require more outside help, Jason rose to go get two more beers out of the fridge. Sookie toyed with the ends of her hair. It was too easy to touch it sometimes, to remember how long it had been once . . . and remember the girl who had worn it that way.

When Jason returned, she was sitting tall once more. She thanked him for the beer with a gracious nod as he sat back down. "It wasn't until I saw you that I realized I had left so much unsaid," she continued. "All these years, I thought Hank was the despicable one for leaving Lana the way he did. But I want you to know that I feel bad about the way I left things with us."

"You were young," Jason said. "We both were. And looking back now . . ." He eased back on the couch and rolled the beer between his hands thoughtfully. ". . . I asked too much of you. Actually, I asked the wrong things of you. I learned a lot from our relationship that I wasn't eager to repeat with Cheryl." Cheryl was Jason's fiancé.

"But you're getting married now," Sookie pointed out. "So you did wind up getting what you wanted, didn't you?"

"Yes." Jason smiled warmly, if a bit sadly. "But it took me longer than I like to admit to figure out what a bigger commitment, like marriage, is supposed to be. Cheryl helped me see that . . . and so did you. Yes, you," he reiterated when Sookie snorted and waved her hand. "I know it wasn't just the thought of being tied down to me that chased you away, Sookie. The life I thought I wanted with you . . . it wasn't a life that took who you were into consideration."

"I appreciate what you're saying. More than I can almost express. But I want you to know that you didn't chase me away, Jason," she said. "I ran away from Cedar Springs as hard and as fast as I could. Just like Hank did. I'm not above admitting it now. Thing is, I don't regret that I did. I'm sorry if that's harsh," she added quickly, but now it was Jason's turn to wave a hand. "But I needed to get away from everything I grew up with to become the person I am now. I felt like I was suffocating. I had to get away from this town and all its ghosts . . ."

"And you had to get away from me," he supplied.

Sookie shook her head, but it wasn't because she disagreed with what he said. "It's more what you were starting to represent. I know you wanted a wife, Jace, but it seemed to me that what you wanted was a traditional definition of the word. You wanted someone who would sit at home and take care of things while you were out actively contributing to society. Someone who was an accessory to your life, and not a partner."

Sookie relented a moment and watched him. Jason stared at his hands—no, at the place where his wedding ring would sit—in quiet contemplation.

"—but I don't think that's what you wound up settling for," she insisted. "You seem so much calmer now. So much happier than you were with me. And I know there's plenty to be said about strong women who want to stay at home, but I just couldn't be that person. After all those years spent trying to live up to my family's expectations . . . then Hank's, after they passed away . . . the thought of spending the remainder of my life trying to fit a mold royally freaked me out. So that's what I've been wanting to say to you all these years," Sookie concluded. "I'm sorry, and I'm not sorry. God, I was way more eloquent in my head."

"You've said everything exactly right," Jason replied. "Because it's how you really feel, Sookie. And don't take this as a criticism, but you haven't always been exactly forthcoming with what was actually on your mind. Something tells me you still may not be . . . which is why I appreciate everything you've just said to me all the more." He lifted his beer to her, and she leaned forward to clink hers to his. "Here's to the truth," he said.

"The truth," she agreed. She couldn't deny how relieved she felt to finally have it all out there between them. She hadn't been sure how this reunion would go, but this was definitely better than expected. Sookie smiled, more to herself than to the man sitting across from her, and sipped her beer.

“So, is that guy Chase your boyfriend?” Jason asked offhand.

Sookie choked and quickly set her beer aside. She tried again, and managed a pleasantly surprised scoff this time. “What?” She laughed and shook her head. “Chase is . . . I mean, Chase is a great guy.” A really great guy, the mutinous little voice in the back of her head, the one that didn’t understand the definition of the word fling, agreed. “We work together.”

“That’s not really an answer,” Jason pointed out. She’d always hated it when Jason pointed things out. "We just agreed to having no more secrets between us, right?"

“I’m sure he’d be a great boyfriend. He’s just not going to be . . . my boyfriend.”

“You want him to be?” Jason eyed her significantly over his bottle, then tipped it back to give her time to respond. Sookie knew he’d sit in her living room all night and sweat her for an answer until she came up with something convincing.

But Sookie wasn’t one to let Jason win anymore. She took up her own beer and crossed her arms. She made herself sphinx-like, keeper of riddles.

Jason laughed at her dismissive expression and rocked forward. “You really like him, don’t you?” he pressed. “Come on, Sook. I could see it plain as day on your face this morning before you saw me and looked like you wanted to run for the hills.”

“I did not look like I wanted to run for the hills, Jason.” She was determined not to let the two of them slip back into old roles. “And of course I like him. More than I thought I ever could, but . . .” She shook her head violently. “I don’t want to talk about it. Sorry.”

“Fair enough. I just want to see you happy, Sook.”

“I am happy,” she insisted. “I’m better than I’ve ever been, Jace. Promise.”

“I think I can drink to that.” They clinked beers and drank. Sookie noticed they were both smiling, and decided the evening had gone better than she could ever have expected. An hour and two beers later, they were outside on the front porch. Sookie swayed a little, not because she was particularly buzzed, but because the week's patrols were starting to catch up with her. She felt tired on her feet, but surprisingly stable emotionally.

Jason paused before descending the stairs and looked at her. "It was good to see you, Sook. Really," he emphasized. "I'm glad we got the chance to talk. After all these years . . . I never imagined I could feel closure about us."

He lingered, waiting for her to say something. A million and one thoughts still circled in her brain, most of them concerning Chase, but she thrust them aside to try and live in the moment. "It was good to see you, too, Jason," she said. When she beamed a smile his way, she meant it. "I look forward to meeting your fiancée."

"You'll love her. And she'll love you." He paused again, then held his arms out to her. "Come here."

Old habits died hard. She went to him, and they hugged. The warmth of Jason's embrace was a nice escape from the cool evening air, but not as powerful, not as right, as Chase's. She really needed to get over contrasting the two of them—it was like comparing oranges to . . . whatever they managed to grow out there in the Alaskan wilds. It wasn't Jason's fault that the man who now occupied her bed was proving hard to measure up to.

When Jason pulled away, Sookie rose up to kiss him on the cheek, followed by, "That never happened,” and a laugh. “Now get out of here before the landlady sees you!" She swatted his shoulder playfully as he departed with a chuckle and a shake of his head. "You know how small small towns are."

"I'm telling you, Sook, sometimes ours feels like the smallest. Have a good night," he said again, raising his hand in a wave. "Look out for yourself. I'm sure I'll run into you sooner rather than later."

"Watch the skies!" she called after him. "I'll be up there. And this time, Jason, I'll be looking out for you!"

Chapter 15

Chase

You're not jealous, Kingston, Chase told himself as he walked briskly down the darkened streets of Cedar Springs toward Sookie's. But you can't let this old flame steal your thunder.

His thing with Sookie might just be a fling, but that didn't make him any less invested in keeping other men from circling her. It was only natural for him to feel the way he did, wasn't it? He wasn't used to being challenged by other men over women . . . not that Jason had challenged him outright. Hell, the other man had barely looked at him. The thought only incensed Chase further. Did Jason not recognize that he was an opponent, an obstacle? Because he sure as shit intended to be one if that local beanpole so much as looked at Sookie with a spark of sexual curiosity on his face.

Sookie's not yours, the sensible voice in the back of his head reminded him. And there's no faster way to drive her off than to start acting like she is.

He wished the voice didn't sound so much like Hank's.

Chase turned the corner and was surprised to find Sookie's lights still on. He checked the glowing face of his watch, but he could already guess the time. He had set out from his place around one in the morning, with the intention of clearing his head after a few lonesome beers; his feet just happened to take him in Sookie's direction. He hadn't expected her to still be up. He knew she had a shift early tomorrow morning.

He also hadn't expected to find her standing in the driveway, locked in Jason's arms.

When she raised herself up on her tiptoes, and when her lips touched down on Jason's cheek, Chase froze dead in his tracks.

The moment seemed to drag on into minutes . . . hours. Chase understood that, logistically speaking, Sookie couldn't have kissed her ex for longer than a split second, but the sight of them together seemed superimposed on the night long after they had withdrawn and said goodnight.

Jason got into his car, and Sookie disappeared back inside the house.

Chase stood alone on the street. And he boiled. Anger raced through his veins like heat lightning, and his fist itched to do—what? To make good on his fantasy of punching Jason? To pound on Sookie's door and demand answers?

Were you with him tonight?

"Goddammit," Chase hissed under his breath. When the single, intrusive thought wouldn't be banished, he turned and rammed his fist into the cold metal streetlight beside him. His knuckle split, and the circle of light he stood in wobbled . . . but the California cicadas kept trilling, and the memory of Sookie's lips touching Jason kept turning over and over again in his mind.

He made the walk back home in half the time. He blew through the foyer so quickly that none of the poker-playing squad members sitting around the kitchen table had the chance to comment on the swiftness of his errand.

He pelted up the stairs, threw the bedroom door open, and kicked it closed behind him with enough violence to shake the whole house. He tossed himself down on his mattress, rolled over, and buried a groan into his pillow.

"What's up, Kingston? You look like someone just drowned your dog."

Chase glanced over and found the other bed in the room occupied. Landon Brenner sat upright, back pressed against the wall, typing a report on his laptop. If he had glanced up at Chase's theatrical entry, then he gave no indication of it now; his eyes were lasered in on his work.

"I don't want to talk about it," Chase snarled.

"Uh-huh." Landon still didn't look up from his screen.

"It's just . . . if you were with a girl, right, but you hadn't said you were exclusive or anything, and then her ex came back into town—that would still piss you off, right? You'd be justified in wanting to lay him out with a cathartic punch or two, yeah?"

"Is this about Sookie?" Landon asked.

Chase sat up straight in his bed. "I didn't say it was about anyone specific! What makes you think that?"

Landon finally stopped typing. He levelled a look at Chase that clearly said: Really? "Dude, everyone knows about you and Sookie. Hank bitches about it constantly. Did she hook up with her ex or something? Is that what this is about? Because I heard that guy's already engaged."

"I don't know," Chase admitted. He shifted his legs over the side of the mattress and hunched forward, gripping the edge of the bed as if the gravity in Cedar Springs might reverse itself at any moment. "I don't know if they hooked up. I don't think Sookie would if she knew he was engaged. But I happened to see them hug, and . . ."

What if that son of a bitch lied to her?

"You happened to be stalking them?" Landon said helpfully. "I'm not going to lie to you, Kingston, this is already starting to sound unhealthy as shit. Sounds like you've been cheated on before."

Chase white-knuckled the bed frame so hard, his fingers popped.

Landon's expression shifted instantly. "Jesus, dude, I'm sorry. I had no idea. Was it Sheila?"

"Sheila," Chase confirmed.

"Unbelievable." Landon sat upright and pushed his computer aside. "The two of you were dating for how long?"

"Four years." What Chase chose not to reveal to a sympathetic Landon was that Sheila had cheated with his best friend at the time. "Look, I didn't mean to turn this into a fifth-grade girls' slumber party. If you have a report to get—"

"Look," Landon interrupted him. "If Chief's sister means something to you, then you need to work it out. Don't torture yourself speculating on what may or may not be happening. For fuck's sake, Kingston, this town is tiny. You could walk five minutes and solve this mystery by asking Sookie yourself."

"I'm done talking," Chase said stubbornly. "Sorry I brought it up."

"You're never done talking," Landon said. "But right now I need you to listen to what I'm saying to you. If the thing with Sookie is just a fling, then let it be a fling. You guys are adults. But whatever you decide, I know one thing's for sure: If you have your head screwed up while you're supposed to be watching my back out there, then I would rather have someone else watching it."

Chase sat in silence. He hated giving anyone else the last word, but he knew Landon was right. The other firefighter was completely justified in calling him out. He sucked in a long breath through his nose and stood.

"Off to solve the mystery?" Landon asked him.

"I'm taking a walk," Chase replied. He paused in the doorway and gripped the doorjamb. "My head is clear," he said. "The thing with Sookie . . . it was fun. She was fun. But it just isn't the right time."

For either of us, he thought. Chase wasn't done mourning Sheila if it was still so easy for him to jump to conclusions, and maybe Sookie wasn't done with Jason, either. Starting up a fling had been a bad idea. They were gasoline and a lit match, just waiting to combust.

Someone else was waiting to combust in the hallway. As Chase turned the corner, he found Hank waiting for him. His chief was a tower of tensed muscle, his fists clenched and loaded at his sides. Chase had never seen the other man so furious. He took a startled step backward before he could convince his lizard brain to stand its ground.

"Glad to hear you think my sister was fun, Kingston," Hank growled.

"Hank, I swear I didn't mean—"

"I don't give a rat's ass what you mean!" the chief snarled. "I tried to be understanding of whatever the two of you thought you had, but I will not listen to you degrade the only family I have left on this earth. Sookie is too damn good for you. She's always been too damn good for you."

And I'm not good enough for her. It was something of a marvel to hear what Chase had always suspected finally be dragged out into the open. First Court, then Sheila . . . did I think it was only coincidence? I wasn't good enough for them, either.

"Yeah, I get it, Chief." Chase shouldered past him. He fully expected to be flung down the stairs for his dismissal—hell, he almost wished Hank would toss him—but the fire chief exhibited his usual inhuman control and let him pass unharmed. Chase couldn't help wondering if it was because he needed all his bones intact to dig trenches and prep foam tanks. With Hank, he assumed refraining from violence in this instance was a matter of logistics. Chase was an indispensable member of the squad, there for one purpose and one purpose alone.

It was time to start acting like it again.

Chapter 16

Sookie

It had been hard falling asleep last night without the solid heat of Chase's body beside her.

Sookie tossed and turned, managing to lose whatever sleep she’d thought the long overdue conversation with Jason would have earned her. Hell, she hadn't even been able to close her eyes long enough to entertain her reoccurring nightmare about the wildfire burning out of control. Even that would have given her some relief—or at least been enough to distract her from the fact that she was sleeping alone.

Morning came, and Sookie hauled herself groggily out of bed. She went through the motions of showering and didn't even bother drying her hair; she gave it a quick shake, combed her fingers through it, and raced out the door of her rental half an hour earlier than usual. She was in a hurry to get to Dyna's and acquaint herself with a steaming cup of fresh, hot coffee . . . and more than that, she was in a hurry to see Chase. Her thoughts raced faster than she did, and memories of Jason's unsolicited advice from the night before wouldn't stop circulating.

Maybe she did owe it to herself to give this thing with Chase a real shot. And maybe she owed it to Chase, too. She could tell he cared for her, maybe even as much as she cared for him. The fact that they tried to keep their growing feelings a secret from one another just seemed absurd. They were two totally mature adults, weren't they? They should be able to have this conversation.

Sookie just hoped she wanted to have the same conversation Chase did.

She arrived early to the morning briefing at the station, surprised to find Chase already seated in his chair toward the front. Rather than post up along one of the walls like she usually did, she made a beeline for him, conscious of passing two other squad members on her way. Fine. She didn't mind having an audience. Speaking to Chase was too important.

"Morning, Kingston." She leaned against the desk the local chief usually sat behind. Chase broke whatever reverie he was lost in to look at her. She saw a flicker of something pass across his face—was it excitement at seeing her?—but it was so quickly repressed in the next instant that she felt winded and delusional. The expression he wore was one of slack indifference.

"Hey."

"That's all I get? Just a hey?" She crossed her arms, keeping her tone casual, but she couldn't deny the lukewarm welcome stung.

Chase shrugged. "Sorry. That's all I got?"

"Late night?"

It was definitely not her imagination when he scowled. "For some people, it was."

"Chase?" She hated how small and hesitant her own voice sounded by comparison. She had been trying to keep their conversation private, but Chase's clipped responses were loud enough for everyone else to hear. "What's up? You know you can talk to me. If you'd prefer to go somewhere else, we could—"

"It's nothing," he interrupted. He rocked forward in his chair, and the way his boots hit the floor seemed to Sookie like intentional punctuation. She looked around the room, and realized the other squad members were looking anywhere but directly at the two of them.

What the fuck?

"Look alive, crew." Hank entered the room then, followed closely by the Cedar Springs chief.

Sookie shifted off the desk and alighted in her usual spot by the corner. She barely registered the assignments as they were doled out, her gaze trained on the back of Chase's neck as if she could ignite the close crop of his hair if she fixated hard enough. There were capable firemen in the room, right? So what was the harm in trying to go a little Firestarter?

Her thoughts about Chase were slightly kinder as soon as she was paired with one of the locals, Tony. She hadn't flown with him on an assignment before, and an hour later in the air, his inexperience still showed.

"Getting close to the trench," Tony muttered over the headset.

"Sorry? Could you say that louder?" she called back to him. She suspected she had heard correctly the first time, but still hoped to be proven wrong.

"I said the fire's creeping awfully close to the trench!" Tony responded. "We hadn't counted on it coming up against our barrier for at least a few more days."

"Shit," Sookie cursed below her breath—or at least, what she thought was below her breath. So much time spent up in the Hawk had trained her to make herself heard.

"You could say that again," Tony said. "But I wouldn't worry too much about it just yet. Just something we need to keep an eye on for now."

“Mmm hmmm,” Raj’s voice said in her ear, and she glanced over to catch his eye and nod. She could see from his expression that the copilot was equally unsettled by the fire’s unpredictable progress.

They touched down safely an hour later, and Tony took off to complete his report. He offered a friendly wave in parting, but Sookie barely registered it—she was too busy hunting the tarmac for a sign of Chase—or any other member of Hank's squad who might direct her to Chase. She saw no one. Must not be back from their assignment yet, she thought.

A low, warm wind picked up, buffeting her dark hair around her face. Sookie raised her chin to the sky and squinted. The sun hung like a baleful red pendulum above her.

It wasn't just Chase's cold-shoulder treatment that was getting to her.

Something wasn't right.

* * *

"The wind feels like it's changing," Sookie said out loud, a day later. "I don't like it."

Lana carried their usual tray of tea into the parlor and sat down. Neither woman leaned forward immediately to help herself. It was Sookie's day off, and they had planned this lunch together days ago, although neither appeared to be in the mood for lunching. There is something in the air, Sookie thought. Lana feels it, too.

The other woman appeared to be mulling over Sookie's words. She stared out the room's far window, thoughts swimming behind her eyes. Her hair was tied back from her neck today, and she looked as naturally and effortlessly elegant as she always did.

Sookie knew she sounded ominous, maybe even superstitious, and she appreciated the way her friend still took her seriously when she got this way. She mentally pinched herself and leaned in, then, to break the spell, snagging a sugar cookie off the tea tray. Her right leg jounced. Could be that Dyna had just made the coffee especially strong this morning, and that's why she was feeling so anxious all of a sudden.

Yeah, could be.

"What does Hank think?" Lana asked. Sookie snapped the cookie off with her teeth, loudly, and Lana held up her hands. "Sorry I asked."

"We talk . . . over the radio," Sookie admitted.

Lana smiled. "Sounds like progress to me."

Has he been by to see you yet? The question was on the tip of Sookie's lips to ask, but she quickly cemented her tongue to the bottom of her mouth. Easy to do, when your mouth was full of sweet, sugary, home-baked goodness. "Hank feels the same as me. I think. Say what you will about him . . . well, maybe you won't. I will say what I will about him, but he's a damn good fire chief."

"Is that what Chase told you?" Lana asked.

The cookie turned to ash in her mouth. Sookie glanced away quickly. "I don't want to talk about Chase."

"Yes, you do," Lana said simply. She poured a tall glass of cool tea and pushed it toward Sookie. "Everyone in town knows the two of you are together."

Sookie was grateful for the drink and quickly chugged some to prevent herself from choking on her surprise. "Small towns," she muttered darkly. "This is why I told myself I'd never live in one again."

She straightened her shoulders and turned to Lana. "If you want to know how Chase is doing, you should ask him yourself. Apparently he's over talking to me. It remains to be seen if he's over . . . other parts of me." She tried to sound callous about it, but she still felt a stab of pain, hearing herself say the words aloud. "Seriously, Lana, I'm thinking about calling the whole thing off. Chase is a known player back in his hometown, and I think his true colors are finally starting to show. I was just starting to think things might be . . ." She trailed off before she could say different. "—well, things are what they are. One minute, he seems crazy about me, and the next, the novelty's worn off." Sookie shrugged in an attempt to broadcast indifference. "It's fine. Hell, it's better this way. I call the shots in my life now. I knew I was playing with fire when I started this fling with Chase. Can't expect a leopard to change their spots, I guess—or whatever homey expression you might have for this occasion."

"I wouldn't say that at all," Lana corrected. Sookie glanced up in surprise; Lana laughed, and reached between them to grab her knee affectionately. "Darlin', I really don't think Chase is a player. He has a reputation, sure, but he seems like he's got a soft heart. Softer than yours," Lana said point-blank.

Sookie looked down guiltily. She had been so busy readying her shields that she hadn't even considered she was being unfair. "Not that you don't have every reason in the world to be guarded," Lana continued with another affectionate squeeze. "But trust me, Sookie dear, most men are just real insecure by nature . . . something I know all too well. Don't judge Chase just yet. Everyone else in his life does. Why not be the exception?"

"You're too good, Lana," Sookie blurted. Her eyes stung, but she couldn't be sure if it was the threat of tears. She wasn't a crier, normally. It was probably all the smoke in the air. "Us Logans are seriously not worthy of you."

"Oh, stuff it," Lana said, her face coloring a little at the compliment. She quickly snatched another cookie off the tray and thrust it toward Sookie. "Here. Eat this. It's sweeter than me, I promise."

"Doubtful," Sookie said, but obliged anyway. No matter how she might change, she had never been shy about her appetite—especially not where Lana's baking was concerned. Still, even the mouth-watering confections being pushed on her weren't enough to distract her from what had been said.

Maybe Lana was right. Maybe she needed to track down Chase and talk things out.

And she knew just the place to start.

Chapter 17

Chase

After a long and wearisome shift, Chase knew just the place he wanted to be.

With Sookie, said the voice in the back of his head that sounded disapprovingly—and disconcertingly—like the chief.

Of course, Chase retorted silently. There was no place he would rather be right now than naked in Sookie's arms after a passionate round or two of make-up sex . . . not that it would technically be make-up sex, considering neither of them had anything to make up for. So what if he had seen her kiss Jason? Didn't mean a thing. Certainly it didn't have anything to do with him.

Keep telling yourself that, Kingston.

The wind in and around Cedar Springs was picking up. It had everyone worried, although they only remarked on it in hushed voices—it was not much yet, and it was almost as if the squad feared the elements themselves might overhear and get ideas if they made any significant fuss about it. The local forecasts had been in their favor so far. Just because things had been going relatively predictably with the fire didn't mean disaster might be in the air.

Chase didn't like believing in something as clichéd as the calm before the storm, but the charged feeling in the air today made him wonder if there wasn't something to it after all.

He was approaching the front of Dyna's when he spotted Sookie in one of the windows. His heart leapt into his throat, and all thoughts of the jealousy he had been grappling with since the other night were thrust immediately aside. Whoever she was with, she was engaged and smiling and beatific. Chase realized in that moment that while he’d called her "angel" at first as a joke, and then as an affectionate work alias, he’d meant what he said. Anytime he conjured a mental image of an angel now—wings, halo, and all—it was Sookie he saw, outfitted to fly, staring up at him with amusement, defiance, and something else he thought he could put a word to, if only he would let himself believe—

Sookie leaned forward across the table and punched the shoulder of the person in the opposite seat. Chase craned to the side to get a better look.

Jason Lewis shied belatedly from her fist, as if it had been his intention all along to get socked in the first place.

Jason Lewis. Jason Lewis. Jason fucking Lewis.

Chase flashed back before he could stop himself. Standing there in the diner parking lot, he suddenly found himself in a different parking lot, staring into a different window, watching a different woman laugh gaily as she sat across from his best friend. Sheila. His first love, sitting with Adam. Laughing with Adam. Batting her eyes at Adam, the same way she would flutter them at Chase—but there was nothing to it, his inner voice told him, there was no call for jealousy, hell, you should be thankful that your best friend and the woman you hope to call your wife get along so well—

A little too well, as it turned out. That had been a month before Sheila dumped him and ran off with Adam. That was the month before Chase learned he wasn't enough to more than just his father, and he'd been fighting an uphill battle ever since to prove otherwise.

Now, he felt like he was tumbling back down into the abyss.

He didn't realize he'd crossed the parking lot until his hand was already on the door. He shoved it open, and the bell chimed so hard, it sounded like it was about to shake itself apart. A few heads turned to identify him, but Sookie's wasn't one of them.

He crossed purposefully to the booth she shared with Jason, aiming to loom as he stood over them. "The two of you look cozy."

"Chase!" Sookie's pretty face molded itself perfectly to a look of astonishment. "There you are! I was looking for you."

"It's a small town, Sook. I'd say you didn't go looking very hard."

He took some sadistic pleasure in watching her wince at the reviled nickname. "Of course I didn't look very hard. There's only one place you ever go for lunch. I was here waiting for you!" she protested. She swept a hand to indicate the counter. "Look behind you, Hotshot. There are two mugs of coffee. I even saved our usual seats."

Chase didn't want to look behind him and be proven wrong. And he definitely didn't want to be called Hotshot in front of fucking Jason. Had Sookie had a similar tongue-in-cheek nickname for her ex, once? The thought made his mouth sour, and a muscle in his jaw twitched. Whatever armor he had walked in with, he was in danger of having it stripped from him. "Yeah? Looks more like I'm interrupting lunch."

"Jason was already having lunch when I got here," she said. Her gaze shuttered suddenly, and she appeared to regret rising to his bait. "What's with you? First you won't even talk to me, and now you're pissed off? Did someone pee in your coffee this morning?"

"Uh, should I just . . .?" Jason shifted in his seat.

"Stay out of this," Chase growled. The other man quickly bowed his head. "Look, I don't know what's going on here, and frankly I don't care." He committed hard to the lie and made it all teeth. "But if I was the kind of guy who did care, I would be totally justified in feeling that the two of you seeing each other this much is bullshit."

"Have you looked at yourself in the mirror recently? You clearly are angry," Sookie said. Her eyes narrowed. "And if you were the kind of guy who cared—if you really were serious about me, then you would get that I don't like being told what to do."

"Are you really so . . . thickheaded?" Chase shouted.

Now everyone in the diner was definitely staring at them. Jason's mug of coffee was suspended in his fist, and his jaw was ajar, making him look exactly like the witless bore Chase had pegged him for. Good.

Sookie burst out with a mirthless laugh. "Thickheaded? Are you serious, Kingston?"

"Fuck yes, I'm serious!" Chase doubled down. "Because the way I see it, you're either screwing this guy, or you're too stupid to realize that's exactly what it looks like!"

Sookie hurled a coffee mug at him. Thankfully, it was the overturned, empty one that had been set at the place across from Jason. Chase caught it one-handed; he actually took a half-step backward as the pilot rose and stormed toward him.

"You have no idea what the fuck you're talking about," she hissed. "As usual!" She looked like she wanted to ram her pointer finger into his chest. Hell, Chase would have welcomed it. She had done it so often before in their arguments, it would have felt like a return to normalcy.

Instead, Sookie growled in frustration and threw up her hands. She stalked past him and banged the diner door on her way out, likely leaving Chase with the tab for their coffee.

Why did he suddenly feel like he deserved to pay?

"Er . . ." Jason cleared his throat, and Chase turned in bewilderment. He had almost forgotten the other man was there. "Care to sit down?"

Had Jason asked him a split second before, Chase would have told Sookie's ex where to shove his invitation. Now, all the wind had suddenly been taken out of his sails. He felt deflated, despicable . . . and watched. Half the diner looked as if they wanted to grab their pitchforks and run him out of town; the other half looked as if they couldn't believe their good luck in getting a free show over lunch.

He took Jason up on his offer and sat down.

"I know how it must look to you, seeing us together," Jason said. "But that's because you don't know the full story. Look." He slid his cellphone across the table. Chase stared down at the lock screen. It was a photo of Jason, smiling and hugging a laughing woman who . . . was not Sookie. “I'm engaged," Jason said patiently. "Sookie and I did date in the past, but we were just kids. We thought what we had was serious at the time, of course, but—" he shook his head. "We just weren't right for each other."

Chase stared at the other man. He couldn't conceive of a world where Sookie wasn't the right one.

"I really did come back to town to check on my parents' house," Jason emphasized. "I'm not here to win Sookie back. Hell, she would probably laugh in my face if I tried."

"I—" Chase's mouth was suddenly dry. He tried to take a sip of coffee and realized he was still holding the empty mug Sookie had thrown at him.

Dyna chose that moment to swoop in with a glass of water. She slammed it down wordlessly on a coaster in front of him, along with Sookie's bill. Chase didn't need to look to know that he had been overcharged.

God, how had he let this happen? He knew he was the youngest firefighter on the squad, but he had always prided himself on his maturity and professionalism—and despaired when it seemed like Hank never saw it. Now, suddenly, he understood the score. He was immature when it came to his personal life, and so was Sookie, for that matter. Neither of them had ever had the opportunity to grow beyond their first heartbreak. Worse yet, they had run from the chance to gain any relevant experience for fear of failing or being rejected.

No wonder the accusations and drinkware were flying.

"I'm an idiot," Chase concluded and slumped down in the booth.

Jason looked sympathetic. "We all are when it comes to women, man."

Chase's pocket buzzed before he could come up with a response. He pulled it out, saw that it was Hank, and quickly pressed it to his ear. "Kingston," he said. He wasn't sure he had expended every stupid word he was capable of, so he left it at that.

"I need you to drop whatever you're doing and get down here immediately," Hank said. "Fire's picked up."

Chase was already out of the booth. "On my way. Where are you?" he demanded.

"Air strip." He could hear rapid-fire voices on the other end of the line, and the call cut out. He assumed his chief had said all he needed to say and hung up.

"Guess the coffee's on me," he heard Jason remark as he barreled out the door.

He arrived at the air strip ten minutes later, already half in his gear. He lugged the rest with him as he jogged across the tarmac to the Black Hawk. The chopper was the hub of activity as several squad guys came and went, lugging tanks between them and sliding them into the cabin. Chase's eyes locked onto Sookie, doubled over inside and helping to secure everything. He was almost to her when a strong hand on his shoulder steered him aside.

"Kingston, I need you flying with my sister today," Hank said. If his chief had feelings about the arrangement either way, he didn't show it. Chase could practically see the blaze reflected in his eyes, and they weren't even within visual distance yet. The wildfire was foremost on everyone's mind—except his. "Her copilot and crew chief are down with food poisoning today. You're the only one available to ride with her."

"Assignment accepted," Chase said unnecessarily. Hank clapped him on the back and strode off to bark orders elsewhere.

As soon as he was gone, Chase quickly adopted one of the foam tanks and lifted it into the cabin.

Sookie's hands brushed his, and she glanced up sharply, as if the sizzle between them was already enough to identify him without looking.

"Hey, Sookie," he began. "I just wanted to let you know that I—"

"Now isn't the time," she cut him off curtly. "Get strapped in and ready to fly."

"I can do that," Chase agreed, trying not to scowl as he pulled himself up into the cabin beside her.

This was going to be a long shift.

Chapter 18

Sookie

Sookie’d never thought she would live to see the day when silence inside the Black Hawk was a problem.

She hadn't gotten used to the whir of the propeller blades until she was several weeks into her training, and even then, she could never deafen herself to them completely. The cutting of the air above her, the humming of the machinery below, was safe and familiar background noise to her now. She felt more at home here than she did on earth. Silence was for the world on the ground.

Yet Chase insisted on bringing it with him.

You asked for it, Sook, she thought. You're the one who told him now 'isn't the time'. If there was a way to discreetly kick herself without Chase noticing, she would. Why did it feel as if every time she tried to guard herself, she wound up making the situation worse?

Maybe it wasn't weakness to show her true feelings. Maybe it required strength to just come out and say it.

"Look, now's not the time for this!" she shouted. You couldn’t help but shout inside a Black Hawk. "So here goes. I like you, Chase Kingston! I like you a lot!"

Chase glanced up, bewildered. "Did I hear you correctly?" he shouted back. "Because there's no way you just said what I think you said after hurling a mug at my head!"

"You think I put on a dress for just anyone?" she demanded. "You think I let anyone close enough to actually let loose with my temper like that?"

"Maybe you don't normally leave any survivors!"

Sookie shook her head, fighting the urge to smile. She didn't want her serious discussion derailed; she struggled enough expressing her feelings as it was. "Look, just because we've had sex doesn't mean you own me. Just because I like you doesn't mean you own me. I want you to know that. But I'm offering to give you a piece of me, all right?"

"I like you, too, Sookie." Hearing him say the words made a shock of pleasure race through her, as much as if he had just said I love you. "I just—I guess I need you to know I got hurt real bad once before. Real bad. I know that's not an excuse for the way I acted."

" ‘Still-not-over-it’ bad?" Sookie guessed. Not like she didn't have experience with that herself.

"I want to be over it. I want to be better," Chase stressed. "You make me want to be better." He paused. She glanced back to ensure they didn't have a bad connection, and saw him struggling for words. "I guess I thought maybe you were fixing to hurt me the way I'd been hurt before. I know that I don't own you, Sookie. But I wouldn't mind it if you acted like you owned me. I can't handle the indifference. It drives me crazy, wanting things to go somewhere with us."

"That makes two of us," she said with conviction.

"I want it to be two of us," Chase answered with equal assurance. "You and me? We make a good team, Ice Queen."

"You might regret giving me that nickname now that you've thawed my cold, cold heart, Chase Kingston!" Sookie laughed. "You'll have to get used to just calling me queen from now on."

"I look forward to it!" he shouted back. Sookie's cheeks heated beneath her aviators, and a cozy warmth settled in her stomach that had nothing to do with the dangerous wildfire raging below them.

Speaking of—

"Hey, Hotshot. You ready to open those tanks? Looks like we're in position."

"That was damn fast," Chase said.

"Didn't feel damn fast with you giving me the silent treatment."

"You're the one who told me it wasn't time to talk!" Chase called over his shoulder as he started his prep work. A moment later, he called to her again: "Ready when you are!"

"I have to get lower," she said as she veered the Hawk downward. "I don't like it, but if we're too high, the foam will go wide. "Ready to release?"

"Ready."

Chase released the tanks. Sookie counted as she felt them disengage. One, two . . .

Rrr.

"Chase?" she called back. "Everything all right back there?"

Rrr. A metallic whirring vibrated through the cabin. Sookie glanced over her shoulder. She hated taking her eyes off the fire for even a second, especially when they were this close, but she could tell that something was wrong. "Chase!"

Chase leaned out to the side. When he glanced up, his face was already dark with smoke, and sweat carved tracks down from his temple. We're too close, Sookie thought in horror. In the next moment, the cold-blooded pilot in her understood that her panic was irrational. She knew exactly how close they could afford to get. Chase was safe, so long as he stayed in the—

"Third tank is jammed!" Chase shouted. "I'm going to have to crawl over the edge and unjam it!"

"Don't you fucking dare!" she shouted back. Her blood thundered so loudly in her ears that if Chase responded, she didn't hear it. She quickly cut her eyes forward to survey the scene, then back again—just in time to see him disappear halfway out the cabin opening. "Chase!"

"Don't worry, Sookie, I've got it! I—"

The release opened and whipped across Chase's shoulder. In an instant, everything seemed to slow to an agonizing crawl. Strapped to her seat, Sookie could do nothing but watch as Chase tumbled sideways out into the smoke-filled sky.

"Chase!"

Chapter 19

Chase

His tether snapped on the way down.

Chase clawed for it, animal panic making him grasp for the rope even as it snaked ineffectually through the air behind him. The Black Hawk shrank overhead and spun away from him as gravity dragged him down in a gut-churning rush. Branches snagged his limbs, puncturing his clothes and more than a few tender spots, but he had the presence of mind to thank God as the tree stabbed and tore and slowed him on his inevitable date with the ground.

He landed hard. Precious air exploded from his lungs, and he gasped to get it back as he rolled over. Oppressive heat slammed into him, making his fight to regain his breath nearly impossible, but he persevered until he had enough in his proverbial tank to drag himself to his feet. His literal tank was back on the chopper, along with all his other gear.

Fuck.

He’d had a few things on him, at least, when he fell. Chase scrambled to find his mask and pressed it to his face. It was better than nothing.

All around him, the wildfire raged. Tall columns of flame that had once been living trees thrust themselves nightmarishly toward the blackened sky; further off, a tree toppled and exploded like a bomb. Elsewhere, he heard the roar of something that sounded like an engine, barely distinguishable above the unearthly howl of the fire.

"Sookie!"

She had brought the Black Hawk down in a nearby clearing. It was impossible, but she had done it. Chase stumbled forward, holding his mask to his face with one hand and using the other to shield himself from the shower of embers scattered by the Hawk's rotating blades.

Damn it. She was too close to the fire. Chase tried to wave her back up into the air, but Sookie was waving at him, gesturing vigorously for him to get to her. When Chase began to pump his arm forward, so hard it nearly dislocated, she finally got the message and turned to look. When she saw the fire nearly upon her, she dropped her hands to wrestle with her belt.

She wasn't going to make it. Chase could see the scene unfold before him before the pieces even fell into place. Something was wrong. The belt was tangled on something, or stuck, and there was nothing within Sookie's reach inside the cockpit to help her free herself. He raced toward her, ragged breaths fogging the inside of his mask, obscuring his vision as much as the stinging sweat that dripped into his eyes—

A loud groan made him wheel. A flaming tree careened between him and the chopper, only narrowly missing him on the way down. It hit the ground in a shower of sparks, flamed high, and groaned louder. Oh, God. The damn thing sounded seconds away from exploding.

He didn't think. He just acted. He dashed toward the tree, planted at the last second, and lunged over it. Flames licked and scorched along the insides of his pants. By the time he landed, he was on fire, legs and right arm flaming. He bolted for an oozing patch of foam and threw himself down onto it, rolling to put himself out. His ears rang.

Somewhere nearby, Sookie screamed.

Chase picked himself up and sprinted for the Black Hawk. He had his knife out before he would even allow his hand to register the pain. He hauled himself up beside Sookie and sliced her free from her restraints. She grabbed onto him as he pulled them both to what he hoped was safety.

He could smell leaking fuel.

"MOVE!" Chase screamed, loud enough to shred his vocal chords. He was terrified that it was already too little, too late, but Sookie heeded him, sprinting as fast as she could away from the Hawk, and he followed. In the reflection off his mask, he watched the Hawk recede into the distance.

He saw the moment the fuel tank caught fire. He tackled Sookie to the ground.

The deafening explosion filled the air above them. Shrapnel flew through the sky, decapitating trees and embedding trunks. Chase pulled Sookie closer, praying that any debris that flew their way would end its nightmarish trajectory with him. He would shield her, no matter the cost.

After a long, tense moment of waiting, he drew a shuddering breath. He pulled her to her feet, removed the mask from his face, and pressed it to hers. Sookie's wide, terrified eyes told him exactly what she was thinking, but Chase couldn't bring himself to listen now. She wanted him to keep the mask, but he wanted her to live. A quick glance down, and he saw blood gushing down her leg from a jagged tear in her flight suit. He held his arm out to her, and she hugged him around the shoulders.

She hopped as he pulled her, stumbling, away from the spreading fire. "The trench!" Chase shouted hoarsely. Even though her face hovered right beside his own, he couldn't be sure she heard him. "It should be just up ahead! If we can get to it—"

Sookie's leg buckled, and Chase knew that was the end of it. She went down hard, and he followed her down. Before she could land in a heap, his arms encircled her, and he lifted her against his chest. He rose and kept running for the both of them.

The ground dropped off sharply ahead of him. Chase slowed as he neared the lip of the trench, then kept going, half-falling down the hill in a cascade of dirt, Sookie still in his arms. He could hear her breathing raggedly inside the mask—or was that his own gasping lungs drawing in the polluted air? Soon enough, they were at the bottom of the trench, and he started the long climb up. Sookie clutched him, burying her head in his neck. It was the last shred of motivation Chase needed to get them up the hill.

He kept running long after they hit flat, solid earth again. He ran for as long as he could. Up ahead, he thought he distinguished human figures, a squad fighting the fire on a different front. He tried to shout to gain their attention, but found he had no voice left.

Sookie raised an arm off his neck to wave feebly, and he saw one of them turn.

And then he couldn't go any further. Chase dropped to his knees, carrying Sookie down with him. She clutched him, and God, after running through Hell on earth—her arms felt like Heaven. He wanted to tell her.

He wanted to tell her so many things he had left unsaid up there in the sky—and here on the ground—only he couldn't think. His tongue was a lead weight between his teeth, and his chest felt too tight to draw in air. He begged her with his eyes to understand, and Sookie cried out.

She pulled the mask from her face and tried to press it to his, but it was too late.

Chase's eyes closed, and he fell forward. He hoped to be unconscious before he hit the ground, but a pair of slender arms caught him, and he gave himself over to them and their unanticipated strength. They weren't moving anymore. Still, it felt good to be cradled.

It felt good to be with the woman he loved.

Darkness crept around his vision. Over Sookie's shoulder, he thought he could discern the figures of several firefighters running toward them, carrying oxygen tanks—but then he was sinking—down—down. With the last of his mental strength, he clawed to find his way back out of the darkness—and failed. At least he wasn't alone as he slipped away.

Sookie was there.

Chapter 20

Sookie

There was a knock on the hospital room door.

Sookie blinked blearily and raised her head up from her folded arms. Chase's face resolved in front of her, resting peacefully against the pillow. Still no sign of waking, but she would watch over him for years, if she had to. He deserved as much shuteye as a man could manage, now that he was out of the woods—both literally and figuratively.

"Come in, Hank," she called over her shoulder. The door opened, and her brother entered. She had already recognized him by his knock.

"Just wanted to check in on you, Sook. How's the leg?"

"Fine." She winced as she moved it into a better position. "Well, not fine, but not broken, and they have me on some pretty good meds."

"I heard you refused the meds." Hank was always good at catching her in a lie.

"I'm on eight hundred milligrams of Ibuprofen. I'd say that counts for something. I swear, I can't feel a thing." Sookie crossed her arms. "And anyway, I don't want to be compromised if I have to go back up there again."

"Sounds to me like you're grounded for a while," Hank said quietly.

This time, Sookie didn't lie to get him off her back; she nodded slowly, sadly. The Black Hawk was gone, consumed by the inferno. She would have been in deep shit, normally—losing a six-million-dollar piece of government equipment because you were trying to save your lover's life wasn't exactly smiled upon by the Guard—but Frank had been adamant that it wasn't her fault. He had gone to bat for her with maintenance reports flying and fists swinging. She knew the Hawk had been in need of more than a few parts, and Frank cited the delay in getting them paid for and delivered as the reason why they had lost it.

Sookie knew that she would have some people to answer to, of course, but she wasn't overly worried. She would have brought the Black Hawk down again in a heartbeat if it meant prolonging Chase Kingston's life just a little longer.

Hank stood awkwardly for a moment, then indicated Chase's unconscious form. "How's the patient?"

"Good. They stuck an IV in him and got him hydrated. His suit kept him from suffering any serious burns. Still hasn't woken up, but he's sleeping peacefully now. He should be back on the firelines in the next few days."

"Guess he’s earned himself some time off," Hank grunted. "How are you holding up?" His eyes drifted to where Sookie held Chase's hand tightly in hers.

She squeezed it in a small demonstration. She didn't care anymore if her brother knew. "I could be worse," she said. "I'm alive right now because of Chase."

"I know you are," Hank said. "Chase is a good man." He moved closer, and Sookie shifted to face him. He let his hand settle on the back of her chair, and she didn't try to lift it off or push it away. A part of her wanted to reach out and squeeze it, the same way she did Chase's, but she didn't feel ready. Not yet.

But soon.

"I know I have no right to be your protector after having left you," Hank whispered. Sookie's heart lurched a little, but she said nothing. She understood this next moment was imperatively important. "And I know I went a little overboard when I found out about the two of you. I think a part of me—" He struggled for words. Sookie let him. "A part of me was jealous that Chase got through to you before I did. I'm your brother, Sook. I know I made a huge mistake in our past—but I love you, and I miss you, and you grew up on me when my back was turned."

"Don't stop trying," she whispered. "Please."

Hank was silent a long moment. Together, they watched the rhythmic rise and fall of Chase's chest beneath the thin hospital gown. "I won't," Hank said finally. "Anyway, looks like we're both going to be here a while."

"Plenty of time to annoy each other," she said with a wry smile.

Hank's own smile twitched in agreement. His phone buzzed, and he checked the screen. "I gotta head out," he said. "Fire's under control at the moment, but there's a storm coming. Could either help or make the situation worse, depending on whether it rains or blows."

"Let's hope for rain," Sookie said.

Hank nodded. His hand found her shoulder, then, and she leaned her head against the solid length of his arm. Then he withdrew and left. He passed another fireman in the doorway, and stopped to converse a moment.

Sookie turned and saw that it was Landon Brenner, one of the members of the Alaskan squad.

He tipped his cap to her and ambled over. He looked totally exhausted, and Sookie could tell by the pained way he walked that he had been out all night fighting the blaze. The three of them together wore the cologne of campfire.

"How's he doing?" Landon asked her.

"Better. He'll be up and aggravating us all in no time," Sookie assured him.

Landon grinned and gave her a thumbs-up. The nurse assigned to Chase arrived just then, and Sookie turned along with Landon to watch her enter. "Visiting hours are just about over." The nurse's eyes never left Landon's face as she said this.

Sookie glanced from one to the other and couldn't help lifting an eyebrow. "The two of you know each other?"

"We just met." Landon's eyes also lingered on the nurse. Eventually, he pushed his cap back onto his head and nodded to them both. "Have a good night, Sookie—miss. Text me when the princess awakens."

"Will do." Sookie flipped him a wave as he left. When she was alone with the nurse, she said, "I'll take off, too. I just wanted to stay a few more minutes."

"Stay as long as you want to," the pretty nurse reassured her. "No doubt he'll want to see his girlfriend when he wakes up."

It was on the tip of Sookie's tongue to correct the other woman, but she didn't. A part of her thrilled at the omission of the truth. Besides, who was she to say it wasn't true? By the way Chase had been talking before their ordeal, it sounded as if he was ready for something serious. She just nodded her thanks.

The nurse's mouth flexed in sympathy. "These firefighter guys. Always out there chasing danger, huh?"

"Yeah." Sookie chuckled. "I'd say it's his middle name, but his first name really is Chase."

The nurse just smiled and shook her head. "He's lucky. You be sure to tell him that, when he wakes up."

"I will."

The nurse departed, leaving Sookie to watch the door curiously. She couldn't help sensing that there was more to that nurse—and that the other woman had left much unsaid. Sookie vowed to get her name later. For now, she heard weight shifting on the bed. She turned back, pulse tripling its pace when she saw that the patient had finally awoken.

"Is this an angelic visitation? I must be dead." Chase groaned as he tried to sit up.

Tears sprang into Sookie's eyes. In that moment, she couldn't care less who might walk in next and see. "That's what you get for being a goddamn hero. Heroes die doing stupid shit like you did all the time."

"Not my fault you're a shitty pilot," Chase croaked.

They stared at one another, and when neither of them could keep a straight face any longer, they burst out laughing. Sookie gave herself over to great gales of laughter that sounded like half-sobs, but she didn't try to repress them, the same way she hadn't tried to hold back her tears at seeing Chase awake. She reached forward and took his hand, and he squeezed her like she was the only life support he needed.

"Hey, we got interrupted before," he said hoarsely. Sookie tried to pass him a glass of water, but he pushed it away obstinately. "I'm not going to be interrupted again. I'm trying to tell you that you lit a fire in me, and it took me over completely. Something poetic like that. The last thing I want right now is water."

"You really want to give this thing a shot?" He had said it before, back inside the Hawk, but Sookie could still scarcely believe she was hearing it. "Even after . . . everything?"

Chase grunted. "I've been through worse."

"Even after everything I said?" she asked dubiously. "I know I don't always have the best way with words, Chase, but I meant it. I value my independence. Now that I've finally found it, I won't ever be able to give it up."

"You think I'd want you to? Besides, you don't owe me a damn thing," he said. "I think I've just fallen a little in love with you. So let me love you, Sookie Logan. That's all."

Sookie sat stunned, but it wasn't because she didn't know what to say to this. Hell, no. She knew exactly what to say to this. "I think I've fallen a little in love with you, too, Chase Kingston."

"Even angels fall sometimes," Chase said. They gazed at one another for a long moment, at a loss for words—but for the first time in her life, Sookie didn't feel lost. She felt like she was exactly where she belonged.

"Yeah?" She broke the spell and raised an eyebrow. "You want to see how devilish this angel can be?"

"You know I do. Push that chair against the door and get over here," was Chase's answer.

"You sure you aren't too injured?" Sookie joked as she tucked the back of the chair beneath the doorknob and drew the curtains.

"Why don't you climb on up and find out?"

It took some careful maneuvering, and more than a few painfully misplaced knees, before she finally sat astride him, naked from the waist down. She moved as he thrust up from the bed, taking his length inside her, marveling and mewling and throwing her head back as his warm hands found the curve of her waist.

Afterward, she climbed off the bed to pull her discarded panties back on. Chase watched her through half-lidded eyes, before he eventually turned from the view to finally take her up on that glass of water. Sookie left the chair stuck under the door as she climbed back into bed with him. "The fire's still spreading, you know," she said as she tucked herself against his side.

"Mmm," Chase hummed into her hair.

Sookie pushed herself up a little to look at him. "You're not worried?"

"No," Chase said. "Not yet. But we both need to get back out there ASAP."

"Just when I thought I finally left Cedar Springs far behind me." Sookie sighed and snuggled back in against him. "Oh well, I guess it isn't so bad. At least if I'm stuck in this town, I'm stuck here with you."

"I'd gladly be stuck wherever you are," Chase agreed as he folded her into his arms.

They may have had their arguments, Sookie thought, but at least that was something they could both agree on.

End of Lighting Fire

Californian Wildfire Fighters Book One

Lighting Fire, August 16 2018

Blazing Hot, August 23 2018

Burning Flame, August 30 2018

PS: Do you love passionate men in uniform? Then keep reading for exclusive extracts from Blazing Hot.

About Leslie

Leslie North is the USA Today Bestselling pen name for a critically-acclaimed author of women's contemporary romance and fiction. The anonymity gives her the perfect opportunity to paint with her full artistic palette, especially in the romance and erotic fantasy genres.

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BLURB

Rugged loner Landon Brenner has a problem and she’s beautiful, intelligent, and he’s falling for her—fast. Injured while fighting the fire threatening the small town of Cedar Springs, and haunted by past failures that drive him to get back to the action despite his injuries, Landon reluctantly agrees to take a room in the house of the sexy nurse who treated him while he was in the hospital. Their attraction is combustible, and the more time they spend together, the more Landon finds himself yearning for more than just a temporary fling.

It’s hard not to fall for a guy who likes to go around saving everything in his path—from small animals to people—but Alexandra Appleby is determined to resist Landon’s many charms. He’s too much like her late husband Henry, a cop who died in the line of duty. She doesn’t need another hero in her life. A man around who rushes into danger without thinking twice. And she sure as heck doesn’t want to fall in love with a man whose bravery could kill him—and leave her heartbroken. She’s got her job and she’s perfectly content to spend the rest of her days alone. But Alex can’t help thinking that maybe, just maybe, Landon is worth putting her heart on the line.

As the fire creeps ever closer to Cedar Springs, will Landon and Alex put aside their fears—and the past—to find a way into each other’s hearts?

Grab your copy of Blazing Hot

Available August 23 2018

www.LeslieNorthBooks.com

* * *

SNEAK PEEK

The fire raged, but Landon Brenner raged against it harder.

After the unexpected wind change, the squad had known it was only a matter of time before the blaze would start to creep up on Cedar Springs. Today was the closest the department had seen so far. The fire had spread to a nearby county park: All around him, the ponderosas burned like matchsticks, like the already-spent candles on the half-eaten cake he’d advanced past on his way toward the burn. One of the park's picnic tables had been abandoned mid-birthday party; he could still see the overturned chairs and melted ice cream pooling on the paper plates. A pile of unopened presents, grouped together on the end of the table, had been summarily forsaken.

Landon vowed the fire wouldn't get that far.

He was loaded down in full gear, but he had never felt lighter. Sweat dripped down the inside of his helmet, and though it stung his eyes, he was glad for the pain. Pain kept you awake to danger, kept you focused. Beside him, one of the volunteer firefighters from San Francisco—Keller—moved with equal competence. Keller was new to the Cedar Springs fire but clearly not new to the job. Landon appreciated that he didn't have to look out for Keller the way he did some of the other guys in the growing rag-tag volunteer contingent.

So when the spray beside him let up suddenly, Landon knew what had happened before he turned to assess his partner.

Keller struck the nozzle of his hose against the flat of his palm; he did it again, then swiveled to try and get a better visual on his tank.

Landon shot an arc of spray over his shoulder as he hustled over. "Trouble?" He knew his voice would sound distorted through the mask and pushed some extra air out to make himself heard, keeping his inquiry short.

Keller nodded and motioned to his tank. "Jammed!"

"Go! Get a replacement. I'll cover you."

Keller's pause told him that the other man was still uncertain. Time was of the essence, and neither of them had time for this debate.

Cedar Springs didn't have time for this debate.

"Don't hesitate! Go!" Landon commanded. He pointed, and Keller, nodding, broke into a jog toward the trucks parked in the distance behind them.

Landon turned back to face the fire, pulse racing, but he kept his thoughts collected and clear.

His tank was still half full—more than enough foam to cover both areas. He had the time he needed, but he couldn't afford to be distracted again. He swept back along the perimeter of his section, snuffing out blazing trees and patches of forest floor. A loud creak, followed by a thunderous crash in the distance, told him that one of the park trees had just given up the fight. There would be more to follow, but he couldn't afford to think about it now. He plunged deeper into the woods.

The fire didn't hold out for long against his onslaught. He sprayed great gobs of foam, watching it fountain out from the end of his nozzle with grim satisfaction. As soon as the landscape in his section was carpeted in a fresh blanket of artificial snow, he moved onto Keller's area. He had gone deeper into the heart of the blaze and was sweating enough to fill not one, but maybe ten, of the station's buckets. He distracted himself with thoughts of the cold shower that awaited him back at their temporary residence but quickly narrowed his focus once more. If the forest was coming down in this sector, then he needed to stay sharp. A shower would be his heavenly reward after facing hell head-on.

The fire in Keller's section had progressed further than he’d expected. Landon gritted his teeth and rechecked the foam level on his tank. He thought he had enough—maybe barely—to complete the mission on his own . . . and if he didn't, he would damn well find a way to make his reserves last to the bitter end. He couldn't count on Keller to be back at it in time. It was his responsibility—and his alone; he had taken it on, and he wasn't about to back off now.

A sudden movement drew his attention. A three-legged shape, hunkered down low to the ground, slunk toward him, coming from the opposite direction that backup would be barreling in from. At first Landon thought it was probably a coyote, or maybe even a fawn—he had seen plenty of mule deer flushed from hiding today and had watched them go sprinting off across the empty highway in droves. The features of the animal approaching him now resolved, and he saw that it was nothing but an ash-gray mutt, probably stray or lost and wandering after the fire had reduced its home to cinders.

"Shit," Landon muttered.

The dog was behind a wall of flame. It whined, feinting back and forth, bad leg tucked up close to its chest. It paused and wagged its tail at him half-heartedly as if waiting with patient and implicit trust for him to rescue it.

"God damn it!" he swore again and turned to see if backup had arrived yet.

It hadn't.

Well, he’d told Keller he had the situation handled. He just hadn't expected to encounter a new one.

He saw Pete's face, suddenly staring out at him from between the flickering tongues of flame. The memory hit him so hard that he nearly stumbled backward, but he braced himself and endured, as he always did, unable to let go and unable to look away.

The forest around him receded, transforming into a vast black Alaskan river surrounded by a wilderness of fir trees. He saw Pete, still a teenager—forever a teenager—waving to him, calling for him, screaming at him, as Landon stood rooted to the spot. Fear had clutched him that day in cold, unrelenting fists, and it still hadn't released him by the time the flood had been upon them. A giant wall of brown water, clotted with trees and debris, had gone tearing down the river as a wide-eyed Landon clung to his log and watched Pete swept away—

The dog barked, wrenching him rudely back into the present. Sweat was boiling off him, a new waterfall of perspiration that had nothing to do with the blaze surrounding him. This was a cold sweat—old sweat, the kind he woke bathed in nearly every other night.

But the dog wasn't Pete. There wasn't going to be another Pete, damn it, not ever again. No man or beast was dying today, not on his watch.

Landon shouldered his hose and rushed forward, leaping over the perimeter of fire the dog was too scared to cross. It jumped up at him excitedly as soon as he had joined it, but when he reached down, it bolted a few feet away, tail tucked between its legs.

"Come on," Landon growled through clenched teeth. He tried to keep his tone soft, with mixed results, but the dog heard the command and looped back around.

Landon stretched his arms out again, and the dog jumped into them. "Good boy!" he panted as he jogged with his cargo toward the perimeter of the burning forest. "You know a dog person when you meet one, huh? Or maybe it's 'cause you know I'm your one-way ticket out of here."

The dog whined, but they were in the home stretch. As soon as he broke out into the clearing, Landon knelt to set the mutt down. He brushed a gloved hand along the dog's back and watched the ash come off it in a cloud. Beneath it, the dog's clumped, wiry fur was brown.

The dog craned forward to lick his visor, and Landon grinned. Then it darted away unexpectedly with a yelp.

Landon rose and spun in place. Time seemed to slow, and the world stopped revolving on its axis as a towering shadow blotted out the glare of the smoke-choked sun above.

Landon tried to dodge out of the way of the falling tree, but his response came too late. It came down on him, knocking him to the ground and pinning him beneath the burning weight of its trunk. Landon heard himself shout, but the sound rebounded around his helmet and wasn't nearly as loud as the deafening roar of the fire all around him.

The heat was excruciating. The pain was worse.

He struggled to lift the tree off himself but only managed to move it a few inches before it rolled back to slam him in the chest. His helmet fogged as his remaining breath left him in a whoosh! He saw stars. Darkness encroached along the corners of his vision, but he battled it back.

Help. He tried to yell the word, but he was locked in a living nightmare, trapped beneath a blazing pillar that would crush him to death, and that was only if the fire didn't get him first. Already, he could feel the intense heat filtering through his turnout gear, nipping and biting in places as it fought to catch and burn a path through to his flesh.

This was how he was going to die. His head spun with the realization. Had he done everything right? Had he saved enough lives? Had he made up for his past mistakes? Even in his final moments, fear clenched icy claws around his heart, constricting it, and the weight of his shame pressed down on him even harder than the tree. Oh God, not yet, not like this—

"Landon!"

He heard someone calling his name from what seemed like a long distance off, but in the next moment, a face mask identical to his own loomed over him.

Landon expelled a breath, not sure if it was from relief or the fact that his lungs were slowly being crushed by the oppressive weight of the flaming trunk.

"Man down! Over here! Help me lift!"

The firefighter—Keller—motioned behind himself quickly, then turned back to Landon. He was so close that Landon saw Keller's eyes widen behind his protective screen; he could see the fire consuming him, piece by piece, reflected in Keller's face piece.

Keller reared back and unleashed his foam canon. The nozzle spouted suds all along the length of the tree—and Landon himself; he watched it wash down his mask like a slow-moving waterfall, but then, small black dots swarmed his vision, and he slipped into unconsciousness.

The next thing he knew, he was moving, flying horizontally down a sterile white hallway. Lights strobed above him, and there was a dull throb in the back of his head. He glanced down and saw that he was laid out on a rolling table. Two nurses were rushing him through what he thought he recognized as Cedar Springs Medical, toward the ER.

How he could go so quickly from feeling like death to feeling so incredible, he had no idea. Then he felt a sting as he tried to lift his hand and looking down, saw the IV emptying morphine into his arm.

Okay, maybe he did have some idea.

"Holy shit! Landon!"

Landon turned his head on the gurney. His vision swam, but he thought he made out the chief's sister, Sookie, sprinting down the hall toward him, still in her flight suit, her helmet hanging from her fingers. Behind her, he could see his squad mate, Chase, bringing up the rear, looking more uncomfortable than Landon himself was able to feel in that moment. Whatever they’d given him, he was definitely flying higher than Sookie had ever managed in her Hawk.

"I'm fine." He tried to wave off her concerns but found couldn't raise his hand up off the table. It felt like he was wearing a lead blanket.

The gurney kept rolling, and his two friends hustled to keep up. He remembered something important. "The dog. What happened to the dog?"

"You're not fine!" Sookie protested. "You're talking nonsense!"

"Sookie." Chase's voice was forceful. Landon had an idea that the other man was trying to convey something, but he wasn't sure what. He couldn't wrap his head around subtext at the moment.

He watched Sookie's mouth clamp shut, then her eyes darted, and she moved out of the way.

A nurse's uniform appeared in his line of vision. Landon followed it all the way up and was surprised to find a new female face now hovering above him. Her sleek blonde hair was tied back and framed by a halo of light from above; to his drug-addled brain, it burned like white fire. The blinding brilliance, combined with his swimming vision, fuzzed the woman's features. He squinted and strained to sit up to get a better look. He managed to lift his head, but something was holding the rest of him down. As he was trying to figure this out, the nurse passed a clipboard off to someone beside her, and that was when he was struck by revelation.

Maybe a shower wasn't his heavenly reward after all.

"You must be an angel," he heard himself say. The nurse glanced down sharply, lips parted, clearly taken aback that he had managed to recognize her in her earthly form. "Either that, or you're the most beautiful woman I've ever damn seen," he concluded.

When he couldn't keep his head elevated any longer, he let it fall back against the gurney and closed his eyes as they carted him away.

Grab your copy of Blazing Hot

Available August 23 2018

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BLURB

He didn’t understand loyalty until she stripped it away…

Ex-NYPD cop Damian Stone was on the fast-track to an FBI career until a mafia ambush cost him his partner. He left the force and was recruited by an elite security team that leverages his hyper-protective instincts to protect the unprotectable--dangerous clients are Damian's bread and butter.

But he never expected her.

Alexa Volkov lived a privileged life—far from the messy underbelly of her father’s Russian mafia. But that doesn’t stop her from carrying the tattoo that makes Damian burn for revenge. As a crime boss daughter, Alexa is in a unique position to collapse the organization from the inside out. Her plan to testify against the mob patriarch puts a bounty on her head that would tempt even the most trustworthy cop—especially one hell-bent on punishing her for the sins of her father.

But the safe house part of Damian’s protection plan is anything but safe. In a place where alliances are not what they seem and the most dangerous heat bearing down on them is the forbidden burn of seduction, the only thing more at risk than life is a lethal hit to the heart.

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* * *

SNEAK PEEK

This was the last time Damian Stone would ever let Rockwell assign him a woman.

He studied the two figures at the nearby gas station, slid his thermos from his console, and took a fortifying swig of espresso. Twenty minutes had passed since his first scalding sip, and the caffeine had yet to rouse him from his morning haze. But the sight of Alexa Volkov’s crisp, white blouse shrink-wrapped against her cleavage was enough to raise a corpse from the dead.

Pure triple shot.

Admittedly, there had been no precedent before her. Damian’s past clients included a sweaty Wall-Street type with an appetite for sex trade cash, an informant that had turned state’s evidence against a high-profile New York senator, and a retired real estate mogul whose trophy wife had hired half of Jersey’s parolees to make his death look like an accident. In every instance, the guys were foul-mouthed, ball-scratching, abysmal excuses for human life that Damian would have given his dying breath to protect.

This woman? Damian would have surrendered his dying breath and every damned other involuntary drive to extract himself from her protection detail.

Two red flags skewered his instincts.

First red flag: her dossier. The text was more than half obscured. Rockwell’s thick, black boxes would have made the State Department proud. And the grainy, paper-clipped photo of the blond may as well have been a police sketch from a drunk eye witness.

Damian had nothing to go on. Less than nothing.

Second red flag: Goddamn, but she was beautiful. Distractingly beautiful. Throw-a-top-security-agent-off-his-game beautiful.

Volkov's escort leaned against the company’s unmarked sedan, looking damn obvious—dressed all in black and wearing a pair of expensive shades. The man looked like he had been trained on a Hollywood set and released out into the wild in full wardrobe. He certainly didn't look like someone casually passing through Wyoming at dawn.

Damian made a mental note to have a word with Rockwell about some of the newer trainees.

Volkov wasn't doing much to improve her cover, either. Her stiletto heels peeked from beneath an expensive, wide-legged pantsuit; and despite a coat more inclined to fashion than function in the Rocky Mountains, a sleek belt at her waist amplified her shapely curves. But what most women aspired to, Volkov achieved effortlessly: long, lithe figure; wide-set, exotic eyes, straight blond hair pulled back into a high ponytail.

One glance at Alexa Volkov was like taking a blow to the head. The spark behind your eyes that kept you company when someone laid you out on the training floor at the police academy.

Damian allowed himself a moment to feel dizzy. Then he got out of his car.

The woman didn't shrink as Damian approached, though her slender arms fidgeted. He wondered what she was contemplating more—his nondescript outfit, or his towering, decidedly descript build. He didn't blame her for looking uncertainly to her escort for a confirmation of Damian's identity.

"Stone," said the man in black.

Damian took ownership of the name with a slight nod. He flashed the escort his credentials, but his focus never veered from Alexa’s stare. Eye contact was the first non-verbal to gaining her trust. Her Nordic-blue eyes, as breathtaking as the rest of her at close proximity, tightened to a glare.

Her escort took the hint and departed without further comment.

"You're a cop," she said. It wasn't a question.

"Retired," he acknowledged.

"You don't walk like you're retired."

She was observant, then, as well as being a knock-out. Damian wondered how her defenses would impact their shared situation. He had been on the receiving end of that mistrustful look a time or two before when he still wore the uniform.

"Why don't we get some coffee?" he redirected. "Have you eaten anything?"

"Shouldn't we be heading out? I mean, isn't it dangerous, now that I'm…?"

"You're with me."

Volkov’s perfectly-shaped eyebrows twisted in a not-so-perfect fashion, no doubt her brain working to process his meaning. He had used the statement to calm skittish clients before, but the words hadn’t struck him as odd until they left his lips in the presence of a beautiful woman.

"What I mean to say is that you're safe, Miss Volkov. You can trust me to make decisions. Patronizing the diner will make our visit to the premises less suspicious."

Her steady, contemplative blinks seemed to indicate a shift, a consent to delay judgment until more information presented itself. Lines at her forehead eased then disappeared.

Damian guided her to the diner’s entrance and held the door for her.

Volkov stalled in the doorway and looked up at him with a wan smile. "Tell me again how you're retired? Even your words are blue." She ducked beneath the pillar of his arm to enter.

In her wake, her fragrance wafted to his nose—something blossoms and vanilla and rain, rolled into one.

The scent soothed his jacked nerves. Always first-meet nerves.

The Sizzling Griddle diner was cramped, built like a long railcar with red vinyl booths lining the outer wall. Volkov took direction from him beautifully and didn't stop until they had sequestered themselves in a secluded corner. A cursory glance satisfied Damian that they were a good distance from the windows. He took a seat on the stool beside her, trying to assess how much he was allowed to study a woman under his protection while still retaining his professionalism.

Seeing her in poor lighting only made things worse. She might be anyone. He might be anyone. Their first meeting might be a thing of chance, rather than a life-preserving necessity.

"How was your escort?" he asked. If they were strangers in a diner, he certainly wouldn’t have opened with that line.

"Strong. Silent. He looked a little ridiculous. You, on the other hand…" She paused when Damian removed his baseball cap and place it on the table beside his wallet, seemingly changing her mind about what she planned to say at the last moment. "Your name is Stone?"

He didn't correct her. An adherence to last names was a good boundary to encourage. Instead, he nodded to a passing waitress, who obliged him by overturning his mug and pouring him a cup of coffee. Alexa declined a cup.

"How did you get into this line of work?" she asked after their waitress left.

Damian raised the mug to his lips.

"Were you discharged?"

"No."

"No offense, but you look too young to have retired by choice. And if you were injured in the line of duty, I doubt this would be your logical next assignment. You have to be able to protect me, right?"

Damian lowered his coffee without having taken a sip. Answers about his past could make or break her trust in him.

"Am I right?" she pressed.

"Miss Volkov, if the question is whether or not I am capable of protecting you, then I assure you that you are in safe hands."

She sat back from the bar and crossed her arms. Damian wondered if she was going to order anything to eat, or if this had been a wasted effort to appear unsuspicious. When the waitress returned, he took the liberty of ordering two stacks of pancakes. A possible overstep, but their first meeting couldn't derail much faster.

Volkov ate her meal dutifully, speaking little. Damian accepted a refill on his coffee. It was a long drive back to the safe house, and he couldn't afford to let last night's fitful sleep show. He paid in cash, and they quietly exited the diner.

A man watched them from a sidewalk, half a block away, half-concealed by a parked Jeep.

Damian’s hand seized her elbow. He kept the movement casual, overfamiliar for the benefit of anyone who might be looking, but the pressure his hand exerted left little question as to his intention.

Volkov stopped walking. "What is it?"

Damian leaned toward her, his body as close as a lover, his answer a whisper. “Trouble.”

Grab your copy of In Safe Hands (The Safe House Unit Book One) from

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