Plain Jane & The Hotshot (8 page)

J
o, shivery with cold and nervousness, seemed to step on every loud, snapping stick on the way to the cabin. Although the girls had been told they would be allowed to sleep a little later than usual in the morning, there were still only a few hours' rest remaining. She knew she'd pay for her tryst with tiredness and achy muscles, but right now she was wide awake.

Recurring memories and images made her pulse race.

She knew she desired more erotic pleasure with him. Just thinking about how he felt, his hard length moving inside her, made her want to turn around and go sneak into his sleeping bag.

But his catch-you-when-I-can attitude was heart-rending. Indeed, he did shoulder heavy responsibilities as a firefighter. She knew their relationship would have to take a back seat to disaster. But the forest fires couldn't last forever. At some point the noncommittal attitude would either deepen into commitment and a real relationship, or she would know she was just another notch on the bedpost and not get her hopes up.

Deep inside, she wasn't sure she could endure being another notch. She wanted to be more important to Nick than just a fading memory of a lusty night under the stars. Yet at the moment, she had only two choices. She either had to cut and run now or risk falling more deeply into the quagmire of lust and love.

Unfortunately, as she faced the closed door of her cabin, her instincts raged for salvation. As she'd learned from Ned, she couldn't predict him or his feelings, and she could only control her own. Certainly it would be far easier to control them—and halt them—now if she never saw him again.

Unable to decide, she pushed open the door. It was silly, yet she couldn't help feeling self-conscious. There could be no question whatsoever, if anyone saw her now, about where she'd been, or with whom, or what they'd been up to. She might as well have a sign taped to her: I'VE BEEN DOING IT.

The door sounded like the meow of a cat as she nudged it closed, rusted hinges protesting. Moonlight
flooded the interior through both uncurtained windows, a pale, ghostly blue. It all seemed so peaceful and proper, pristine even, that she felt more guilt poke at her.

She heard the even, steady breathing of her sleeping companions. Softly as she could, Jo crept across the bare wooden floor, wincing each time a board creaked.

Why did everything sound so damn loud at night? Even her thoughts seemed to make noise in the quiet cabin.

So far so good. Quickly she undressed and slid beneath the covers, fluffing up her pillow.

“Better brush the twigs out of your hair, nature girl.”

Jo practically cried out in fright at the unexpected words, spoken just above a whisper. To her primed ears, they were as loud as screams.

Kayla.

Of course. The girl had probably lain awake all these hours, just to make her wisecracks.

Jo felt her cheeks heat, but she tried to ignore the taunting remark.

Then Kayla spoke out loud.

“I guess you learned all about the stars, being on your back all night long. Tell me, did the earth move?”

“Please, just leave me—”

“It's been obvious from day one that you intended
to do the deed with that man. All your sneaking around hasn't fooled anybody.”

“Hey!” Bonnie's sleepy voice protested. “Shut up, Kayla, people are trying to sleep.”

“Me? What about
her
sneaking in here in the middle of the night?”

Bonnie, wide awake now and no fan of Kayla's, anyway, sat up in bed.

“Pipe down! Honest to God, Kayla, you're worse than a little kid. Ain't no virgins at this party, right? So let's just all go to sleep.”

Kayla fumed. “I'll have you know—”

“Hey! I gotta conk some heads together or what? Us old dames need our beauty rest.”

Hazel's authoritative voice sounded from the doorway, silencing all of them. To Jo, she sounded more amused than angry. She could see the vague outline of Hazel's form and her long, white pullover sleep shirt.

“Bury the hatchet, ladies,” Hazel said cheerfully from the door. “And not in each other. But if you must, please do it during daylight hours.”

She said good-night and returned to her cabin.

Jo waited, filled with dread, for Kayla to start all over again. But apparently hostilities had ceased for now. At least, she consoled herself, the fact of her little dalliance tonight was now announced, sparing her the revelation later. On the other hand, it was also now guaranteed to be remembered by one and all.

Exhaustion quickly claimed her, and she drifted off
to sleep with the anticipation of nightmares. Nick was now foremost in her thoughts, and her last unfinished thought was that tomorrow she'd decide if they'd ever be together again.

 

Exhausted, Nick fell into a deep, dreamless sleep almost as soon as he rolled into his down-stuffed sleeping bag. In what seemed no time at all, someone was calling out his name and shaking him awake.

“Nick! Hey, wake up, Romeo! We got trouble.”

“Huh? Wha—?”

Nick struggled to sit up. Tom Albers and Jason Baumgarter stood just outside the fly of his tent. The sun was up, but only barely. It gave feeble light and no warmth.

“Mike Silewski's on the horn,” Jason said, holding out the field radio handset. “Wants to talk at you.”

For a few moments, still feeling drugged with deep sleep, Nick had to search his memory. Then he recalled Silewski was the senior park ranger in the Bitterroot.

“Yeah, Mike?” he managed. But he had to repeat himself, for in his sluggish state he forgot to depress the talk switch.

“Man, you sound rough. Tough night?”

Nick could hear the grin in the ranger's tone, but it wasn't very amusing to him at the moment. How did these guys always know things so fast?

“If you get near a point,” Nick reminded him impatiently, “feel free to make it.”

“Touchy, touchy. We've got a pocket burn about two klicks north of the summit,” Silewski reported. “Airborne embers, evidently, kicked up by that wind last night. Mostly it's just old-growth timber on that mountain, and we could let it thin itself out. But Fort Liberty's smack in the middle of the pocket.”

“Yeah, I know the place.”

Nick came fully awake at the grim news. Historic Fort Liberty had been built just after the Civil War as a far-north outpost for the U.S. Sixth Cavalry. The jewel of Montana pride and tourism, it was also one of the finest nineteenth-century restorations in the American West. As such, it attracted tourists and, from time to time, Hollywood filmmakers, and brought badly needed revenue into Montana.

“We've got a priority request from the governor to protect that site,” Silewski added. “Your team will insert by helicopter, since there's no safe drop zone. Your orders are to build a firebreak around the fort and then dig in until the danger's past. You guys should be ready to stage in thirty minutes.”

Nick had been a smoke jumper too long to question orders. But he immediately felt a sharp stab of disappointment. There went his time today with Jo. And an opportunity he had been thinking about for several days, the chance to know her better.

“I know you guys're s'posed to be off until later,” Silewski said. “But the governor is worried sick, and
we can't pull Winkler's team off mop-up—they're still finding hot spots.”

“You know our motto,” Nick replied stoically. “Always flexible. Look, Mike, do me a little favor?”

“At your service, Hotshot.”

“I'm going to leave a note in an envelope at our campsite. I'll tape it to that tree that's been split by lightning. Would you take it up to one of the women who's camped on Bridger's Summit?”

“Aha! This hot Texan blonde I'm hearing about, right?”

“No, another one. Her name'll be on the envelope. Deliver it to her personally.”

“Tough assignment,” Silewski said drolly, “but I guess I'm man enough to do it.”

“Stout lad,” Nick replied. “Over and out.”

While Tom and Jason woke up the rest of the team, Nick dug out his letter-writing supplies and penned a quick note to Jo, explaining about the emergency. He assured her he'd be back before she was due to return to Mystery and told her how disappointed he was at the interruption of their time together.

“I hope, more than anything,” he wrote in closing, “that what we had together last night was just the beginning of our relationship, not the end. The fire season won't last that much longer, and I hope you'll want me to come see you in Mystery. I really want a place in your life if you want me in it.”

He folded the note, sealed it in an envelope and
wrote Jo's name on the envelope. Still bitterly disappointed, and resenting this assignment right now in his life, he started assembling his gear.

 

Mike Silewski parked the U.S. Park Service Blazer in the lot beside the cabins atop Lookout Mountain. With Nick's note tucked into his shirt pocket, he climbed out of the vehicle and removed his sunglasses for a better look at the pleasant sight coming toward him across the camp clearing.

The woman carried a water jar, evidently headed for the pump down the slope. It had to be the same busty blonde all the guys were talking about.

Trim legs tanned a golden brown poured out of denim short-shorts so tight they left little to the imagination. And her short-sleeve white blouse was rolled up and tied to reveal a smooth, flat midriff.

“Can I do something for you, Ranger?” she asked with a sexy smile and ambiguous phrasing, and Mike had to swallow a couple of times before he could find his voice and answer.

“Uh, hi, there.”

The ranger glanced behind her. He saw another woman, young like this one, playing tetherball with a ball and rope tied to a tree.

“I've got a note here from Nick Kramer,” he explained. “I take it you aren't Jo Lofton?”

For just a fraction of a second, her charming smile seemed to waver. But it was back so quickly Silewski
thought maybe she'd just squinted at the morning sunlight.

“No, I'm Kayla,” the blonde introduced herself. “Jo's not here right now, but I'll be glad to give her the note when she returns to camp.”

Her dazzling white teeth flashed as she poured him an even wider smile.

“I'm sure that would be just fine,” he replied. “Thanks a lot.”

He handed her the letter, trying not to be too blatant about ogling her body. Not that she seemed at all offended by his interest. Quite the contrary, her attitude seemed to be: enjoy it, that's what it's for.

“I'll see she gets it,” Kayla promised again as the ranger got back into his vehicle.

But as he backed out of the lot, Kayla tossed a glance back over her shoulder to see if any of the others had seen him give her something.

Bonnie still playing tetherball, was not even aware she was still there. And Kayla had deliberately lied— Jo was still inside the cabin, moping about something. No doubt this letter from Nick had something to do with it.

Kayla quickly headed down the path toward the stone bridge, wanting to put trees between herself and the rest. She glanced at the envelope in her hand, and a mixture of anger, jealousy and guilt lanced through her. The anger and the jealousy far outweighed the guilt.

Anger made Kayla frown as she recalled last night in the cabin, how all of them had ganged up against her. Even Hazel. Jo comes slinking in just before dawn, yet they all turned on her, Kayla.

“Who in hell do they think they are?” she fumed out loud as she made up her mind.

She glanced back one more time to make sure no one was around. Then she set the water jar down and tore the envelope open.

J
o had expected to sleep in, especially since Hazel and her cronies were giving them a rare break from the usual shock reveille. But the commotion of the other girls getting up and dressed, not that long after sunrise, brought her awake, too. Rather than just lying there pretending to sleep, she decided to tough it out and get up with the others.

She got a reprieve from Kayla's taunts, however, for unbelievably, she was already up and gone. She'd even neatly made her bed before she left.

“Yeah, I know,” Bonnie greeted her, reading the surprise in Jo's face. “Our little Texas Twinkie has evidently turned over a new leaf. I didn't even hear her leave.”

But Kayla's blessed absence could not buoy Jo's already crushed feelings. Somehow, in the cold light of morning, she realized she had to stay sane. When Nick showed up for her at ten, she'd decided to tell him to call her when he got off the mountain and could pursue a real relationship. She couldn't see him until then. She just wasn't that hard yet.

Ned had never once suggested seeing her anywhere but in his apartment on campus. At the time she simply assumed it was because he didn't want to announce he was dating one of his students.

But in fact, he'd had no need of her that couldn't be met in the bedroom. She would have seen that if she hadn't made the stupid mistake of assuming he felt what she felt.

She was not going to make that mistake with Nick.

“I might as well confess now and get it over with,” she announced to her friends just before she left for the showers. “Nick's dropping by later.”

“Hey, thanks, chum,” Bonnie protested with mock annoyance. “So what about, oh, lonesome me? You could at least fix me up with that cute radio guy, Jason. He's got dimples when he smiles.”

Jo laughed as she left the cabin.

A surprise awaited her when she crossed the camp clearing: Kayla had built up the fire left by the older women from breakfast and was scrambling eggs in a big iron skillet.

“Breakfast'll be ready in a jiff,” she said to Jo, not glancing in her direction but speaking in a civil
tone. It would have surprised Jo at any time, but especially now, after the altercation earlier this morning. Now there was not one sign that Kayla was annoyed at her.

“Thanks,” Jo replied in a carefully neutral tone.

She showered, washed and conditioned her hair, then donned the only dress she had brought along, a blue slip dress. It felt good to put on her sandals, instead of hiking boots. She even spritzed her hair back.

Determined to feel as good as she could about the direction she was going in, she even dabbed on a little coral lipstick. Obviously she might never see Nick after she told him he could call her and that was all he was going to get. But at least their parting wouldn't be like Ned and hers, with her crushed and weeping. No, she was going to look great, smile and control everything inside until she was alone. And if he never called her, only then would she let out the hurt.

After she emerged from the shower hut, Jo joined the others for breakfast but only had a cup of coffee. It was already nearly ten, and she expected Nick any minute.

She also still expected a confrontation of some kind with Kayla, but it never happened. Although not exactly friendly, for she still avoided looking at Jo, Kayla didn't aim any of the usual smug glances in her direction.

If this was an olive branch, Jo was happy to accept
it. But somehow it didn't add up right. It didn't make sense that, suddenly this morning, Kayla would be in the mood for peace.

As Hazel had pointed out, Kayla did have her sweet points. Maybe, Jo decided, I should stop judging her so harshly.

Breakfast ended, and Bonnie went out to collect firewood. As if uncomfortable being alone with Jo, Kayla went back into the cabin, leaving Jo alone with the morning peace and stillness.

At first she enjoyed the solitude. But more time ticked by, and as it did her state of mind gradually changed from determined expectation to resentment.

It hadn't occurred to her that Nick wouldn't show. For some stupid reason she thought she'd be the one to direct the relationship, if they even had a relationship. She'd never expected to be dumped right after her one-night stand.

But maybe she should have, she thought. Naive, that was her, through and through. Ned wouldn't have gotten so far with her if she hadn't mistaken him for an honorable man.

Now, with every minute that passed, it seemed she'd mistaken Nick for an honorable man, too.

By eleven o'clock, her hurt increased tenfold. By eleven-forty-five, anger warred with all that hurt.

By this point she felt stupid hanging around outside, drawing attention to the fact that Nick had stood her up. Trying to keep her feelings out of her face, she joined the others in the cabin. She dug a paper
back out of her pack and stretched out on her bed, pretending to read.

“Hazel and the others will be back before too long,” Bonnie said hesitantly, looking up from her crossword-puzzle book. “Maybe you should walk down to Nick's camp?”

“Oh, he probably just overslept.” Jo managed to make it sound like no big deal. “I might just as well stay here. I'm sure he'll turn up later. We'll talk then, I supppose.”

“Talk?” Bonnie looked at her. Her eyes asked questions.

Why, Jo chastised herself, did she have to tell them Nick was coming at ten? Now there was this gathering sympathy for her, even though she was devastated enough right now without having to endure pity to boot.

At least Kayla's curiosity remained muted. She definitely was not rubbing it in—just keeping completely to herself and listening to her CD player through headphones while painting her nails. She did not even glance at Jo.

Jo stared at the same page for countless minutes, not seeing a word. At one point heat suddenly formed behind her eyes and her vision blurred as tears threatened. Only with a supreme effort of will did she maintain her composure.

Don't lose it, she commanded herself harshly.

She could not understand how this could be. All Nick's attention and intensity only last night, and now
all of it was simply gone like a fist when you open your hand.

The silence in the cabin became unbearable, and Bonnie decided to dispel it.

“You getting nervous about the Chute, Jo?” she inquired. “I sure am. It's the day after tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I'm sweating it,” Jo replied, though she hadn't even spared a thought for it lately. The heady waters of romance had been challenge enough.

“Swoop-for-your-life…not a very confidence-inspiring name,” Sheryl chimed in.

“Nick said…”

Jo hesitated, surprising herself, for the words had come out almost on their own. But she did not dare leave the sentence hanging. That would be even worse.

“Nick said the same thing Hazel does.” She forced her tone to sound casual. “He calls the Stony Rapids an easy river for rafting.”

Bonnie, bless her, did an excellent job of pretending she'd noticed nothing.

“Huh! That's easy for him to say—a guy who jumps out of planes and risks death for a living. And Hazel, well, she's sweet and I love her, but she's a McCallum. My God, those ranchers are hard as woodpeckers' lips. Me, I'm just a timid hairstylist.”

“You've done fine so far,” Jo assured her, wanting to steer away from the topic of Nick. “We're gonna have fun rafting the Chute, you'll see.”

It amazed her, the disconnect between her calm remarks and her turmoiled interior. And such hypoc
risy—she no more cared about making that rafting trip than she cared to memorize a phone book.

Right now she wanted only one thing. One person. Nick. She wanted him to suddenly show up and explain away all of this letdown. And when she finally heard the crunch of gravel under tires out in the parking area, her heart leaped into her throat.

Until she recognized Hazel and Dottie's voices and realized it was just the older gals returning from town.

 

Hazel and Dottie had just exited the supermarket in town when a U.S. Forest Service bus rolled past, filled with smoke jumpers wearing their familiar orange-and-blue T-shirts. It was headed east, out of town, not west toward the high-timber country where the fires raged. And the guys were dressed to travel, not to fight fires.

When Hazel was back at the camp, she decided a little patrol was in order. Dottie didn't have to ask where she was going.

Hazel followed the hiking trail down the slope from Bridger's Summit, a series of switchbacks through pine and aspen. The smoke jumpers' camp was only about five minutes from the mountaintop cabins.

Or
had
been.

The matriarch emerged from behind a huge dead-fall of brush and brambles, then stood staring at the clearing, her disappointment sudden and keen.

The spot was deserted. Only a few flattened spots in the grass even hinted that tents had been pitched here.

So maybe Nick had indeed pulled stakes and left for good. Taken the “geographical cure,” as her cowboys called it when a man left town suddenly after feeding a line of bull to a woman he'd seduced.

And yet…she was reluctant to form that conclusion just yet. Nick had seemed so sincere and decent when she talked to him.

But was it all just moonshine?

I was so worried about Jo retreating under a shell, she told herself. Maybe, though, I stupidly forgot
why
she needed that shell in the first place. And just maybe I coaxed her out only to get crushed again.

“Looks like he cut and ran, huh?”

Jo's voice, just behind her, startled Hazel back to the present moment. She turned to confront her younger friend, saw the dejected look on Jo's face.

“Now, honey, don't go stacking your conclusions higher than your evidence.”

“Oh, Hazel, he had you fooled even before he deceived me. Face it, we've both been bamboozled by a master jerk.”

“Before you hang the no-good label on him, shouldn't you wait a bit?”

Jo tried to form a cynical smile, but abandoned the effort. “You know the old joke. ‘Denial' is not a river in Egypt.”

“Jo, honey, if all Nick wanted was to get laid, why did he spurn a hot-to-trot sure thing like Kayla and direct all his efforts to you?”

“Challenge, Hazel. The thrill of the hunt. He was telling me the truth when he said he didn't like sure
things. I'll give him that much credit—he doesn't do the easy and obvious thing.”

Despite Jo's bitter tone, Hazel knew her angry response might well contain a nugget of truth. Looking at the young teacher now, as she gazed at the deserted clearing, came close to breaking Hazel's heart.

“What really hurts,” Jo confided in a rush of brokenhearted candor, “is the way I so foolishly thought the two of us had made an emotional connection. Isn't that hilarious? That's why the sex was so special, for me, anyway. The same stupid,
stupid
mistake I made with Ned and vowed never to repeat.”

“Jo, you shouldn't—”

“But I, Jo Lofton, small-town music teacher and old maid in training, am not Miss Montana material,” Jo rushed on, her tone bitter as she mocked herself. “Little simps like me are only good for a quick poke before the stud muffins move on to the next love-struck sucker or go back home to the little woman.”

Hazel put an arm around Jo's shoulders and squeezed. Although she had not yet leaped to the same conclusions Jo obviously had, it certainly looked as if Jo's bitterness might be justified.

Maybe the pessimistic historians were right, Hazel thought glumly. Maybe human beings
don't
learn from history. And individuals, like civilizations, were doomed by their own personalities, forced to repeat the same disastrous mistakes over and over.

Jo's next comment seemed to confirm Hazel's thought.

“It's not that I don't know the reality,” she la
mented, close to tears. “I just keep denying it. Why?”

“Because you're a wonderful girl with high ideals about love,” Hazel responded firmly. “And because your basic nature is to trust others. That's not unusual in trustworthy individuals like yourself. Personally, I hope you never change.”

“Oh, God, Hazel, I'd
better
change. I can't take any more of—of—”

But Jo couldn't finish her thought before a sob tore from her throat, unleashing a torrent of tears. Feeling as if a knife was twisting inside her, for her own guilt was so strong, Hazel held the miserable girl in a mother's hug, trying to comfort her.

I caused this, Hazel realized, not Nick. My crusade to save Mystery, to populate it with married couples of my secret choosing—I put that ambition over Jo's emotional well-being. Even if Nick did cut and run, as the mounting evidence suggested, Hazel felt it was her job to see it coming. But she had failed.

In her pride and scheming, she had failed Jo. And pride, Hazel reminded herself, comes directly from the devil. And like a good devil, I've helped send this innocent girl to the hell of a broken heart, exposed her to the bitter test of betrayal.

“C'mon, hon,” Hazel said gently, turning Jo back toward the summit. “I think both of us need to stay busy for a while.”