And then I’m lost, irretrievably, in his gaze. I never want to find my way back out again, either. Because this man…this man is ruining my heart in ways that I am wholly unprepared for.
Dragging his mouth across mine lightly, he breathes raggedly, “But I’m so tired of fighting this.I’m crazy about you, Teddy. You’re all I think about anymore. Every waking thought and every dream at night…it’s all you. It's only been you.”
“Light it up, boys!” I call out to my crew. Some nod, some call out affirmatives, and others simply shout back, ‘Yes, Sup!’
We’re doing a burn out on a section of property that surrounds a local historic site to protect the building. In reality, it’s a dilapidated barn-turned-museum that in my opinion could use a good torch, but the local council has deemed it a historic landmark for Sky Ridge. With the heat wave we’ve been dealing with since July and next to no rain, we were assigned to come out and clear out snags, thin the brush, and back burn the surrounding acreage to prevent any fires getting too close, if there happens to be any that flare up in the area.
King and his squad are around the west side of the property digging line. He’s in his element, the bastard gets to direct the use of a bobcat to clear a lot of the thistly brush away while Cal and his team are using their drip torches to back burn the acreage.
It’s easy, fairly mindless work. Weather conditions are pristine for this kind of job, and it gives us something to do between long-haul fire assignments. We prefer to work at night since it’s easier to see where our flames are at, and we have the addedbonus of not baking beneath the hot sun all day. It’s not that much cooler, but with no sun beating down on us, it’s almost enjoyable.
We’ll be here until late as fuck—more like early as fuck. We might be lucky to get out of here by the time the sun is coming up tomorrow, but none of us mind.
I miss the days that I could work a drip torch alongside Cal. Normally I’d be out keeping an eye on my squads, but this prescribed burn is a cinch, and I need the exhaustive manual labor of digging tonight.
Anything to try and keep my mind from Teddy and the conversation from the other morning. How I’d opened myself up in a way that I’ve never done before, to a woman that in her right mind would tell me to take a fucking hike…
But she hadn’t. She hadn’t pushed me away, or rejected me like I’d thought she would. No, this woman had simply kissed me back, so gently, just a whisper of our lips against the others, and then she’d said, “I don’t think I want to fight this anymore either, Xander.”
Before either of us could say anything else, though, Bea’s little cries had come through the baby monitor sitting on my coffee table, the lights flashing from green to red as her volume went up. Teddy had scrambled from my lap, straightening her shorts and blushing furiously—fuck I love the way her skin flushes pink all over when she looks at me, when she catches me watching her—and I desperately want to see that color all over her body, with nothing between us. My need for her is ravenous, and I can’t wait to be granted more of her.
I’d let her go after she picked up her coffee cup and the baby monitor, but I’d followed her to the door, sliding my hand around the front of her throat just as she’d made to escape, and I’d kissed her again. Just once. Just a mostly chaste kiss to her delectable, delicious mouth. And a promise to see her later, to which she’d nodded.
Going more than twenty-four hours without laying eyes on her is akin to torture, and I’m not too proud to admit that the thought of leaving her to come out for this fire assignment—really fucking sucked.
I’m not getting any younger. I may not be entirely past my prime, but I can admit that my body is slowing. Not by much, but I can tell the difference. My joints ache, my back is stiff most mornings, I’ve got more fucking gray hairs threading through my hair and beard than I’d like… and all I have to show for almost forty-three years on this earth is a hand-me-down house with furniture that is all vintage from the eighties and nineties, several undoubtedly unhealthy coping mechanisms for grief, and a career that’s kept me from having that white picket fence and a family.
Which I was fine with, I remind myself as I slice my Pulaski through the foliage and dirt, ripping up a line. The ache in my muscles is a welcome relief. Sweat beads and slides down my forehead and cheeks as I push harder, losing myself in the work. I never wanted a family. I didn’t need it. I didn’t need anything but this, day in and day out, and my crew. My friends, my brothers, this family I’ve found along the way.
Straightening, I heave out a breath and glance around. The low-lying fire is spreading slowly, just like we want it to, burning up all the dead and dry foliage, turning all this green to black that will protect the area and will allow new growth to come through in the spring.
It’s something to see, truly moving and almost magical, the way the earth breathes new life into itself after decimating everything. I’ve traveled to old wildfire sites years after the burn, and I’m always awed at what I see. New green, young trees sprouting from the ashes and thick, healthy foliage coming back strong even after so much devastation.
“She’s a beaut,” Cal pants as he steps up beside me, his drip torch hung low at his side and the flame extinguished. We watchour guys as they work the low blaze up a slow rolling hill, to where King has directed a dozer to push the line about a half mile away surrounding the entire property. The reds, oranges, and yellows of the flames are brilliant in the darkness. Truly a sight to behold.
“That she is,” I agree. There’s never been a sight that I’ve loved more than a blaze eating up a hillside. That is, until now.
Until Teddy.
God, I can’t wait to get home. To see her tomorrow. For the first time in my entire life, I’m dreading waking up alone. For the first time in my almost forty-three years, I want nothing more than to wake up next to a woman after having fallen asleep next to her. No, not just a woman.Mywoman.
My fucking woman. Teddy. I want to go to sleep every single night and wake up every goddamn morning next toTeddy.
She may not be mine yet, but I have every intention of making sure that is exactly where we end up.
I clap Cal on the back and grin over at him. “Let’s burn this bitch so we can go home.”
“Fuck yeah,” Cal grunts on a chuckle, and then we dig into the line. Because I have somewhere to be in the morning.
“Oh thank god,” I mumble as I open the door, letting both Violette and Scottie in. I’m bouncing Bea in one arm, keeping my four-month-old moving. She’s cranky tonight and doesn’t want to be put down. Hollie says a quiet hello and then beelines for Penny’s room. Over Scottie’s shoulder as she stops on the patio, I spot Dalton in the front yard playing catch with Xander, and when Cal and Rowan step into the middle of the yard, Dalton’s face lights up like Rockefeller Center at Christmas. That barbed wire guarded, concrete slab fortress built around my heart crumbles a little more.DammitI’m so screwed.
Scottie looks over her shoulder at what’s caught my attention, then turns back and grins widely. “Oh, so you’ve got itbad- bad, huh?”
“Shut up!” I whisper hiss, shooing them both inside so I can close the door. I lean against the door, my body sagging, Bea facing outward where I have her clutched to my chest. They both laugh their asses off at me, and I try to give them my best glare, but I know it falls flat. “Bad-badisn’t even close. This is catastrophic. It’s a calamity. A disaster in theform of one sexy as hell neighborslashmy older brother’s boss and best friend.What is wrong with me?”
“...Ummm…I brought wine!” Vi giggles, holding up not one, but two bottles of wine by the necks like she’s showing off a prize fish catch. I can’t help but laugh at her attempt to curb my rising panic.
We make our way into the kitchen, where Violette makes herself at home by uncorking the first bottle of wine while I grab down two stemless wine glasses and a crystal tumbler for Scottie’s whisky. She’s not really a wine-girl, but she humors Vi and I during these girls’ nights that I so desperately need. They’ve become a weekly ritual and I live for these few hours of adult girl time, even if that means we’re still fielding a barrage ofMoms!from all directions and I’m sporting an ornery infant as a body accessory.
