How to Tame a Wild Fireman (27 page)

“Is that because the cops never caught up with you?”

“Haha. Quite the comedienne. No, it’s because I’m an outstanding driver, and if I were to break a traffic rule, they’d be so in awe of my technique they’d forget about giving me a ticket and simply applaud my expertise.”

“Wow. I’m about to give you a ticket for arrogance.”

He smiled, then turned serious. “What I mean to say is, you’re safe with me. I might take risks when it really matters, if it would save someone’s life. But I never take risks without a good reason.”

She gave him an odd look. “The funny thing is, I never even thought to be nervous. I know what a great driver you are. I’ve seen you on a dirt bike, remember?”

Patrick was about to point out that his dirt bike skills weren’t the best example, having landed him in the hospital, when both their phones beeped. “We finally got ser­vice, I guess.”

Lara was already checking her messages. “Megan called. Did she call you too?”

“I don’t know.” He tossed his phone to her. “You look. I don’t want to make an ass out of myself after just ranting about my safe driving record.”

But she was listening to the message. Her eyes went wide. “Listen.” She put the phone on speaker and played the message again. Megan had left it the day before.

“Lara, I’m trying to find Patrick. Have you seen him? If you’re with him, tell him another wildfire broke out and this one’s a lot closer. It’s headed in our direction. The firefighters came out and told us to evacuate, but Dad thinks he can handle it by himself. When are you coming back? Please call as soon as you get this message. Or tell Patrick to call. I’m really scared and Dad won’t listen to anything I say.”

Adrenaline sizzled through every nerve of his body. He slammed the accelerator down and the Hulk hurtled across a rut, briefly going airborne.

“Sorry,” he said grimly, putting a hand to Lara’s torso, making sure her seat belt was nice and tight.

“No worries. Drive as fast as you need to.”

“I’ll drop you off in San Diego, then—­”

“No. There’s a quicker way, through Arizona. The border crossing is faster. It’ll save us at least two hours. And you know what Southern California traffic is like. We’re much better off going through Nogales.”

“But you have to get back to work.”

“Not until Monday. And anyway, you were stuck down here because of me. I’m coming with you, and that’s final. I might be able to help. Have you forgotten I’m a doctor?”

“No. I’d forgotten—­” He hadn’t really forgotten anything, but every thought other than the ranch had fled like a flight of panicked swallows. “I’d forgotten you’re you. Thank you.”

And he stepped on it.

Chapter Twenty-Six

F
or most of the drive they watched the dry, sun-­baked Mexican landscape pass by in concentrated silence. Lara didn’t want to break into Patrick’s single-­minded focus on the road with anything less than earth-­shattering news. He seemed to be wrapped up in some kind of deep communion with the highway.

His driving was a thing of beauty. The way he maneuvered through the twisting curves in the rugged mountain passes took her breath away. He passed slower vehicles with meticulous precision, never reckless, never out of control. For the first time in many years she thought about her parents making that last, fatal drive. The police had said it wasn’t her father’s fault, but she’d looked it up. He’d been driving ten miles above the speed limit, not unusual for him. But maybe he could have reacted more quickly to that drunk driver if he’d been going the limit. He’d always been a larger-­than-­life, cocky daredevil of a man—­a male version of his sister Tam.

In her mind, she’d blamed him. And maybe some of that blame had carried over to Patrick after the dirt bike accident.

She gave him a sidelong look, taking in his intent scowl, the set of his jaw, the firm contours of his lips. Patrick had carried a lot of blame over the last ten years. But he hadn’t let it destroy him. Instead, he’d done something with it. Found a purpose. Saved lives. Then he’d faced his worst accuser, his own father, so he could help his family, whether they wanted it or not. Her respect for him rose another few notches. Really, she couldn’t imagine it getting much higher.

For so long she’d blamed him for running away when Liam was in the hospital, but what about her? Hadn’t she run from Loveless and never looked back, until forced to? All those years she’d spent rejecting Aunt Tam, wanting nothing to do with the Haven, wanting no one to take the place of her lost family. She still remembered the first time she walked into the Haven and nearly gagged at the scent of sandalwood. Right away she’d turned against the place. She’d stuck to her silly black clothes and made fun of everything there and fled as soon as possible.

What if everything she’d done, from adopting a goth girl persona and even pursuing a medical degree, had been to reject her eccentric, free-­spirited, bigger-­than-­life aunt and her madcap existence? The aunt who’d done nothing but love her and accept her and support her in whatever she chose to do. The aunt who was the closest person she’d had to a family.

Deep in her own thoughts, she barely noticed as they passed the ten kilometers to
la frontera
sign. Things were moving so fast, as they had ever since Patrick came back into her life. Another few minutes and they’d be in the United States again, back to reality. Back to hospitals and fires.

“I tried calling Megan, but she isn’t answering her phone,” said Patrick grimly. “I’d call the firehouse but they probably have their hands full.”

“Do you want me to call the Haven? Maybe your mother can do something.”

He ran a hand across the back of his neck. “Why didn’t I think of that? Yes, that would be great. If Big Dog listens to anyone, it’s Mom.”

She dialed the number as Patrick maneuvered them into the line at the border control. After a few rings Romaine answered.

“Romaine, thank goodness! This is Lara. Is Candy Callahan still there?”

“Candy went back to her ranch. Where are you?”

“Mexico.”

“Mexico?”

“Long story. Does Candy know about the fire?”

“Of course she knows about the fire. The whole town is covered in ash again. You wouldn’t recognize the Cadillac. It looks like a hearse.”

Lara gripped the phone so hard she inadvertently pressed a few buttons, which gave a scolding beep. Was the Haven in danger too? Not the Haven. Not all those pillows and wall hangings and hokey hand-­painted sayings. Not her last link to her childhood. “Is . . . uh . . . what about you guys, the Haven . . .”

“We’re fine so far. The fire isn’t headed in our direction. But the whole town is covered with flying cinders. We’re all supposed to stay inside. The Callahans and other ­people out that way are in the worst trouble. They’re supposed to evacuate, but you know how Big Dog is. That’s why Candy went back. Janey went with her. Everyone does what Janey says.”

Not Big Dog
. Romaine was too new to Loveless to know that, but Lara decided not to mention it.

“Can you get in touch with Candy and see if she got him out? We’re headed to the ranch now, and it would help if we knew what was going on.”

“I’ll try. I’ll give you a call back if I hear anything.”

“Thanks, Romaine.”

Lara clicked off the phone. The Mexican police, armed with automatic weapons, were waving them across the border.

“Did you hear all that?”

“Yes.” If possible, Patrick looked even grimmer. “I wish Janey hadn’t gone. He hates her, especially now that my mom’s staying at the Haven. If anything’s guaranteed to make him dig in his heels, it’s Janey trying to boss him around.”

Lara’s heart sank at the memory of the animosity Big Dog had for the Haven and everyone associated with it. “He hates all of us. I’m at the top of that list. Maybe I shouldn’t go either. I don’t want to make things worse.”

“I don’t care what Big Dog thinks, but if there’s an active fire, I don’t want you anywhere close.”

“Hey. I did okay at the Waller Canyon Fire.”

“That’s not the point. I just . . .” He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. “I don’t want you in danger.”

Lara shivered at the intensity in his voice. She fought against that weak feeling, the one that made her want to curl up against Patrick’s side and let him take care of everything. She was a grown, independent woman who was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. “Doctors face danger all the time too. Crazy patients, bacteria, staph infections, viruses—­”

“Okay, okay.” Patrick looked a little pale. “I’m not questioning your courage. But if something happened to you at a fire on
my ranch
, I’d want to kill someone.”

“Kill someone? Geez, ‘Psycho.’ That’s a little extreme, don’t you think?”

Expressions chased each other across his face like summer lightning: fury, fear, determination. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m an extreme kind of guy. I’m just telling you how I feel.”

“Well, it’s sweet that you’re so concerned about my safety—­”

“Why’d you call it crazy talk?” He tossed the abrupt question like a hand grenade.

“What?” This conversation was giving her more whiplash than all those hairpin curves in the canyons.

“When Liam started asking about marriage. You said it was crazy talk. I want to know why. What’s so crazy about it?”

She had a sudden impulse to put her hand to his forehead and check his temperature. “Patrick, what the hell has gotten into you? Are you worried about the ranch? The fire department is probably handling things just fine.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Answer the question.” He forced the words through tightly gritted teeth.

Okay, so maybe he was serious. Maybe she’d hurt his feelings with her casual dismissal of marriage. “Well . . . we . . . I mean . . . how would we . . . ” The problem was, off the top of her head she couldn’t come up with any objections, though she knew there had to be a million. “I’ve never really thought that much about marriage,” she finally said. “It always seemed like something for the future. A ‘someday’ sort of thing.”

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “That’s a good way to put it. ‘Someday.’ But when do you know when ‘someday’ comes? What if it’s now? You and me?”

Holy crap. Was this some kind of cockeyed marriage proposal? But he hadn’t said he wanted to marry
her
. He hadn’t even said he loved her. This was just Patrick being Patrick, knocking her off balance when she least expected it. How did he always do this to her? She used her most authoritative doctor voice. “I don’t think this is the right time to talk about something like this. It makes no sense. We don’t even live in the same place.”

A brusque wave of his hand dismissed that objection. “I’m not tied to San Gabriel forever. I’ve thought about joining a hotshot crew or one of those private firefighter-­for-­hire groups that gets called to the really tough wildfires. Or I could transfer. I don’t think I’ll ever have trouble finding work.”

Was he seriously thinking about this? Her irritation grew. “Your family hates me.”

“Donkey’s balls, to quote my dad. Liam and Megan love you. My mom likes you just fine. She’s living at your property, remember? And Big Dog’s insane. I’m done making decisions based on Big Dog.”

Lara dug her fingernails into her palms. They zoomed up the perfectly ordinary highway that now felt like a direct route to crazyland. When she pictured marriage, she’d always imagined something safe and comforting. She’d imagined coming home after a long day’s work to a foot rub and a glass of wine. Calm conversations about where they should spend Christmas. Gentle laughter about the upstairs neighbor or the annoying dog across the street. She’d pictured marriage as a sort of warm bath.

Life with Patrick would be more like whitewater rafting. He was the man who always kept her guessing, who pushed her headlong into her own sexuality, who made her laugh and, in the next moment, made her more furious than anyone else on the planet.

Just look at how he was approaching this whole conversation. If he really wanted to propose, where was the ring? Where was the bended knee?

“I don’t even know why you’re talking about this,” she hissed. “Because we’ve had sex? I’m not some girl in a Regency romance.”

“A what?”

“You know, back when sex automatically meant marriage, unless you were a rake. A cad.”

He shot her a look. “A ‘cad.’ Oh my. Say it ain’t so.”

“Of course you aren’t a cad. That’s my whole point. You won’t be a cad if you don’t marry me just because we’re having sex.” She inhaled a deep breath, trying to summon one of Aunt Tam’s meditation mottos.
Return to your center
.
Ground yourself in your inner truth.

“But that’s just it. I
am
saying, marry me.”

So much for returning to her center. “You aren’t
really
saying it, Patrick. You’re just being crazy.”

“You keep saying that. But what’s so crazy about it? So far your objections are geography and Big Dog. Neither of them matters one bit.”

She put her hand to her head, wishing everything would stop spinning.

“Are you okay?”

“Can we please stop talking about this?”

“Sure.” He winked, that teasing, vivid flash of blue that had tormented her since she was twelve. “For now.”

“Patrick!”

He closed his lips with a zipping gesture and they both fell silent. Alongside the road, telephone poles flashed by in a steady pattern. Lara rolled down the window and let the flow of air cool her face. They zipped through one tiny town, then another, eating up the miles to the ranch.

Lara stewed over everything Patrick had said. The closer they got to the ranch, the more angry she got. They passed from Arizona to Nevada, then turned onto the highway that would take them to Loveless. If Patrick was serious, then he’d delivered the worst proposal in the history of mankind. If he wasn’t serious, then why had he brought it up? What was he really up to?

It finally clicked about fifty miles from Loveless.
I’m done making decisions based on Big Dog.
But was he? “I know what you’re doing.”

“What do you mean?”

“As always, you’re trying to find the thing most likely to piss off your father. It worked when you invited me to dinner, so why not up the ante? Why not tell him we’re getting married? You’d guarantee yourself a rant. He already gave me one. He said no Callahan would ever marry someone like me.”

Patrick whipped his head around, spearing her with blue fire. “That’s fucked up. I don’t care what Big Dog says, thinks, or does. I make my own decisions.”

“But that’s just words, Patrick. I know I’m right. What other explanation is there? You’ve been trying to tick off your dad your entire life.”

“What ‘other explanation’?” She could practically see the steam coming out of his ears as he passed a trundling RV going about ten miles under the speed limit. “What about the fact that we’re good together? No,
great
together? What about the fact that I want to be with you all the time, and I think waking up next to you for the rest of my life would be pretty freaking amazing?”

Lara’s hair chose that moment to whip itself out of its shaky knot. She gathered it off her face and wrapped it around her hand while she rolled the window back up. The sudden quiet gave his words even more significance. Was he actually, really proposing, and not in the most backward way imaginable? “Are you seriously saying you’re serious?”

“I’m saying I could be serious. I’m saying we should give it serious consideration. I’m saying I don’t see why we shouldn’t think about it.”

“Patrick!”

“What?”

She struggled to get a grip on her storm of emotions, but failed utterly. “If you’re really proposing, you’re doing a horrible job. Like epically, ridiculously horrible. If you ever decide to do it for real, think back to this moment and do everything the opposite.”

He shot her a stunned look, opened and closed his mouth a few times, then directed his attention back to the road, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed to a squint.

Okay, so he had said a few nice things in there. But they’d been buried underneath a bunch of confusing statements, none of which translated to “I love you.” He had said that thing about “waking up next to her,” which was pretty darn romantic. And being “great together.”

But what about love?

“Holy mother of God,” Patrick murmured. “Just look at that.”

Huge billows of ominous black smoke roiled on the horizon. It looked like a thunderstorm lit with lightning flashes of demonic orange.

“Wow,” she breathed.

“Good thing is, I’d say that’s still a few miles from the ranch. We should have time. But not a helluva lot. Hang on.”