Just Kate: His Only Wife (Bestselling Author Collection) (23 page)

“I remember everything,” he said in a husky voice.

She remembered everything, too. And despite the scalding temperatures, a shiver ran through her.

Perhaps sensing Aubrey’s discomfort, Grandma Rose slapped the arms of the wheelchair. “Would you look at the time.” No one had so much as glanced at their watch. “We’d best be on the road, hadn’t we, Aubrey?”

“Yes,” she mumbled and gratefully rose.

Gage also stood and grabbed the back of her chair, pulling it out. She couldn’t help herself and looked at him. Given the sexually charged atmosphere in the SUV yesterday, she fully expected desire or longing to be reflected in his features. What she saw there caught her off guard and affected her far greater.

Sadness and, unless she was mistaken, regret. For their marriage, she wondered, or that it ended? She couldn’t tell, and maybe that was for the best.

“And I need to get back to work. That ramp won’t build itself.” Gage’s smile vanquished all trace of negative emotion from his face. “Can I help you into the car, Rose?”

“Yes, thank you. That would be nice. Aubrey, fetch my purse for me, will you? It’s on the kitchen counter.”

“Sure, Grandma.”

They were leaving at last. Retrieving her grandmother’s purse first and then hers, Aubrey headed back outside just as Gage was assisting Grandma Rose into the SUV. The scene was tender enough to give Aubrey pause.

He had no sooner buckled her grandmother’s seat belt when a series of loud beeps cut the air. Stepping away from the SUV, he reached for the radio hooked to his belt. Aubrey remembered seeing similar communication devices being used by the local ranchers. After listening to a garbled voice, Gage depressed a button and returned the radio to his belt, a frown creasing his brow. “I have to leave.”

“Problems at home?” Aubrey asked.

“No.”

Without so much as a wave goodbye, he abandoned Grandma Rose and hopped into his truck. Throwing it into Reverse, he tore out the driveway, the tires spewing a shower of gravel and dirt. He hadn’t even bothered to put the tailgate back up. His ball cap sailed out and landed at the end of the driveway.

“What the heck was that all about?” Aubrey asked after retrieving the cap and loading the wheelchair into the back of her SUV. It annoyed her that Gage would take off and leave the ramp half-done, not to mention a mess in the front yard.

“I suppose he got called to a fire,” Grandma Rose answered.

“What fire?” She scanned the nearby rooftops. No telltale plume of gray-black smoke billowed skyward.

“In the mountains somewhere, I suppose.” She peered out the window. “Or anywhere in the state. Once they went to California and twice to Colorado.”

Aubrey jammed the key in the ignition, inexplicably irritated. “The volunteer fire department doesn’t travel outside Blue Ridge.”

“No. But the Blue Ridge Hotshots do. Gage is also a wilderness firefighter.”

Aubrey’s mind grappled with the unexpected information. “Since when?”

“For a while now. During the summers, mostly. He does something else with them the rest of the year, too, but I don’t know what. Part-time, of course. He still works the ranch with the family.”

“You’re kidding.”

“He didn’t tell you?” Grandma Rose looked surprised.

Aubrey shook her head. “No one did.”

Her family seldom talked about the Raintrees after the divorce. Aubrey’s father resented Gage and flew off the handle every time his former son-in-law’s name was mentioned. Because his outbursts had accounted for any number of unpleasant family gatherings, Aubrey opted to keep the peace and stopped asking about Gage. News occasionally made it her way via her grandmother, but not with any regularity.

She had yet to start the SUV, and the vehicle’s interior temperature quickly escalated. Turning on the engine, she set the air-conditioning on maximum before pulling out of the driveway.

The drive to Pineville took about an hour, not all of which was filled with conversation. During the frequent lulls, Aubrey’s mind drifted to Gage. Besides being captain of the Blue Ridge Volunteer Fire Department, he was also a wilderness firefighter. Amazing.

Mountain fires had been in the news too often during the last few years for her not to know what a Hotshot was and how important they were to the safety and preservation of Arizona’s endangered high country.

She’d always assumed—along with most people in Blue Ridge—that Gage would follow in his father’s footsteps and take over management of the Raintree Ranch. To discover he’d chosen a different profession, one as dangerous and challenging as a wilderness firefighter, intrigued her.

And being intrigued by Gage was a complication she neither wanted nor needed in her life right now.

Chapter 3

T
he smell of chicken enchiladas, homemade pizza and hot apple pie commingled, filling Aubrey’s SUV as she drove the main road through town the following morning. From their resting place on the floor in front of the passenger seat, the foil-wrapped food dishes rattled and shook in protest with every bump, pothole and sharp turn.

Buildings and landmarks marked Aubrey’s short trip, most familiar, a few new. The feed store, the one-room public library and Mountain View Realty’s log cabin-style office building were the same as she remembered. A life-size wooden statue of a bear now stood in front of the Blue Ridge Inn, its big paw raised in greeting.

How, Aubrey asked herself, had she let her grandmother coerce her into running this errand? Some of the Hotshot crews, as reported by her grandmother’s neighbor, Mrs. Payne, had taken over the Blue Ridge community center. “A satellite fire camp of sorts,” she’d said, and explained a little about how the twenty-member crews rotated shifts. In a show of support, many of the townsfolk prepared food for the wilderness firefighters, who used the community center to eat, sleep and otherwise relax before returning to action.

According to recent reports, the blaze had been raging in the mountains twenty-five miles east of Blue Ridge since yesterday, apparently started from the smoldering remains of an illegal campfire left by recreationists. It didn’t take much to ignite a fire during the hot, dry Arizona summers.

Originally, Mrs. Payne had planned on delivering the food items. But the two older women got to chitchatting and decided Aubrey should do it. That way, they could work on a baby quilt for Mrs. Payne’s newest grandchild. Aubrey agreed, only because she didn’t have the heart to deny her grandmother the opportunity to spend an enjoyable hour with a friend. And it was for a good cause.

Besides, what were the chances of Aubrey running into Gage anyway?

That’s what you said at the gas station,
a small voice inside her teased.

“Shut up,” she told the voice as she pulled into the community center parking lot.

Aubrey had spent every spare minute not dedicated to her grandmother’s care thinking about Gage and his second job. She remained glued to the radio and TV news for updates on the fire. She’d even gone so far as to research Hotshots on the internet, using the laptop computer she’d brought with her.

Holding the box of food dishes to her chest, she used her shoulder to push open the heavy door leading into the community center. From the number of vehicles in the parking lot, she expected quite a few people to be inside. The actual count was considerably more.

A dozen or so cots took up one corner of the huge, airy room, many of them occupied. Metal chairs surrounded a TV, which sat on the small, homemade stage. Several stations had been created by arranging long tables into Us or Ts, their various purposes indicated by a cardboard sign taped to a corner.

“Hi, there. You bring a food donation?” The woman greeting Aubrey was about her age and looked vaguely familiar. Before she could place the face, the woman said, “You’re Aubrey Stuart, aren’t you? I heard you were back in town.”

“That’s me,” Aubrey said, wishing she could remember the woman.

“You don’t recognize me, do you?”

She smiled apologetically and shook her head.

“It’s been a long time.” The woman returned her smile. “I was Eleanor Carpenter. I’m Eleanor Meeks now. I used to live about a half mile up the road from your grandparents. You played sometimes with my younger sister, Beth. When you weren’t playing with Gage, that is.” Eleanor’s eyes remained warm and friendly, but her smile turned impish.

“Of course.” Aubrey was surprised by the delight she felt at running into a former acquaintance. “Nice to see you again.” She shifted the box of food to her hip. “Are you volunteering here?”

“Yep. When I can arrange for someone to watch the kids, that is.” She took Aubrey by the elbow and led her toward the kitchen located in the rear of the huge room. “Let’s find a place for this food and then we can talk.”

“Is your husband a Hotshot?” Aubrey asked.

“Was.” Eleanor’s smile faded. “He was killed two years ago in a burnover incident when the wind suddenly changed direction.”

“Oh, my gosh! I’m so sorry.” Aubrey instantly flashed on her parents’ late friends, Jesse and Maureen. “I didn’t—”

“It’s all right.” Eleanor reached into the cardboard box and removed one of the covered dishes. She placed it in an empty spot on the counter. “I won’t lie and say things are always easy. But me and the kids, we’re doing okay. Volunteering with the Hotshots helps.” A shadow of grief crossed her face. It lasted only a moment and then she was smiling again.

Aubrey couldn’t help thinking of Gage. Was he all right? Was he in danger? How long until he returned?

Some of the internet websites she’d visited the previous night portrayed wilderness firefighting as a glamorous and exciting profession, the men and women as heroes. They were, but as an E.R. nurse, Aubrey knew better than most the not so glamorous and exciting side of firefighting.

“Hey, Eleanor,” someone called. “Can you give us a hand? This idiot fax machine won’t print.”

“I’m the local Jane-of-all-trades.” Eleanor sighed wearily, though she acted more pleased than put out. “Hang around, why don’t you? If you’re not in a hurry.” She started off, then stopped and turned. “It’s good to see you again, Aubrey. Welcome home.”

Welcome home.

The phrase echoed in Aubrey’s head. Though she had lived most of her life in Tucson, Blue Ridge had been home to her, too. Certainly the home of her heart.

“Thanks,” she told Eleanor. “I think I will hang around.”

Whatever malfunction had struck the fax machine, it perplexed not only Eleanor, but several others. While the group of workers stood over the machine—reminding Aubrey of surgeons and nurses in an operating room—she finished unloading the food dishes and went wandering the community center.

As she neared the front door, it flew open. A large group of Hotshots entered, dressed in dark brown pants, black T-shirts and heavy work boots with thick rubber soles. They were covered in grime, and the smell of smoke clung to them, nearly overpowering Aubrey.

She couldn’t avoid hearing their conversation as they passed.

“I’m going to grab a quick bite to eat,” said one of the tallest of the group. “What about the rest of you?”

Most concurred.

“I’m gonna hit the sack for a while.” The speaker yawned noisily. “I haven’t slept in two days.”

The taller man slapped his buddy companionably on the back. “Take care of that arm first.”

“This?” He held out the affected limb, and Aubrey noticed an ugly gash running the length of his forearm. “It’s just a scratch.”

“I don’t care if it’s a pinprick,” the taller man said. “Take care of it.”

“Yes, sir.” The injured man veered away from the others and went behind a U-shaped station, where he dropped down into a metal chair and rolled up his sleeve. The cardboard sign taped to the table read First Aid.

Without stopping to think, Aubrey went over to him. “Can I help you with that? I’m a nurse.”

He peered up at her, and his face brightened. “Sure.”

She came around the tables and conducted a quick inventory of the available medical supplies. Then she took the man’s arm and examined the cut. It was long and inflamed, but not deep.

“How did this happen?”

“A tree branch attacked me.” His smile widened and took on a new appearance—that of a man interested in a woman. “You got to watch out for those fellows. They’re sneaky. Catch you when you’re not looking.”

She released his arm, giving him the kind and helpful smile she reserved for patients. “I’m going to the kitchen for some water to wash this. I’ll be right back.”

“And I’ll be right here.”

In the kitchen, she found a small basin that she promptly filled with warm water from the faucet. She also found a stash of industrial paper towels and grabbed a handful. Not the best for cleansing wounds, but they’d do in a pinch.

True to his word, the man was waiting for her when she returned.

“You’re back.” He didn’t mask his delight at seeing her.

Aubrey set the basin and paper towels down on the table near him and donned a pair of latex gloves. While she treated his wound, he engaged her in lively conversation. He was a good-looking man, despite the dirt and grime. And he didn’t come on so strong that he offended her with his mild flirting. Another woman would probably flirt right back. But not her.

Aubrey met, and subsequently dated, any number of available, attractive men. With every one, she waited for that telltale flutter of awareness in her middle. It rarely came, and the relationships tended to fizzle out, some sooner than others. Yet one glimpse of Gage bent over a circular saw cutting planks and she’d had enough flutters to lift her three feet off the ground.

“Are you a volunteer medic?” The injured man’s question jarred Aubrey from her musings.

“No. I really just came by today to drop off some food donations.” Aubrey had finished cleansing the wound and was applying an antibiotic ointment to the affected area.

“You live here?”

“Uh...yes and no.” She opted for the condensed version, not wanting to go into her life story. “I’m staying with my grandmother for an extended visit. She’s recovering from a broken hip. How about you?”