“You guys say there. I’m going to find a way to get inside.”
The limb is the size of a small tree. There’s no way I’ll be able to move the damn thing, but I try nonetheless, to no avail. The windows on either side of the house are over my head, so there’ll be no climbing up unless I can find something to stand on. They weren’t kidding about the back being caved in. Half a rotten tree collapsed on it.
I come back around to the front, hoping I can wiggle my way in between the tree and the front door to get it open. Above the sound of distant buzzing chainsaws and humming yellow Tomets, I begin to hear the sound of more voices, some raised over the din. More people must be up and moving around trying to clear out paths, discern the extent of damage.
The crunch of boots on leaves snapping twigs has me looking up as I near Tom and Mary’s front steps. Maybe it’s someone who can help.
I open my mouth to call out to them when the words die on my tongue.
The man hasn’t noticed me yet. He carries a chainsaw with one hand like it doesn’t weigh a thing. He scans the area, sharp and observant. I know that gaze. I’ve stared into it, dreamed of it. His eyes haunt me every day.
“Walker,” I say, louder than I intend, because it’s the only thing I know about him other than what it feels like to have him inside me.
He stops. Turns to me.
Those blue-gray eyes meet mine.
Chapter Three
Walker
Past
“I don’t normally do this,” is all I remember her saying before she tugs me to my Airbnb.
“Neither do I.”
She pushes open the door and stumbles inside. “No, I mean it. That’s not just a line. I don’t go home with strange guys.”
When I’m over the threshold, she pushes it shut behind me and presses me against its surface. My brain short-circuits like it had the moment I saw her in the bar. Sounds cliché, but they’re clichés for a reason.
She’d been waiting tables at the restaurant I’d gone to for dinner. Not my waitress, but one a couple sections over. I’d lingered over a mediocre steak and over-dry baked potato that I’d washed down with cheap beer to watch her like some kind of creep. I’d stayed through dinner rush, then wandered over to the bar where she’d taken over serving drinks. She plied me with alcohol until I, with some stroke of luck or fate or both, convinced her to go to the bar next door when we couldn’t stay at the restaurant any longer. Some hours later, with enough alcohol to make bad decisions sound like good ones, I’d convinced her to come back to my place where we could be alone.
“I’m not complaining,” I say and let my hands wander wherever she’ll allow them. “I wouldn’t judge you even if you did.”
She pauses her own explanation to peer up at me with fathomless brown eyes. “That’s so sweet,” she says, causing me to laugh. “What did you say your name was again?”
“Walker,” I answer and brush back her loose brown curls from her face. God, I want to kiss her.
“I’m Avery.”
“I remember.”
She presses her eyes shut, sighs a little. “We should probably talk some more. Get to know each other better. I think I’m a little drunk.”
I close my eyes and lean my head against the door, praying for some self-control. “Whatever you want. I just don’t want to be alone.”
Her fingers pause their exploration of my chest over the thin material of my T-shirt. I glance back down at her, watching her study me. Fuck, maybe she was right. I’d had way too much to drink.
“I don’t want to be alone either,” she confesses.
Wanting nothing more than to taste those confessions on her lips, I instead put my hands on her arms and put some much-needed distance between us. “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll make us some coffee. I think there’s some in the kitchen.”
At this, she chuckles and carefully sits on the small leather sofa in the living room. “You don’t know if you have coffee in your own house?”
“It’s not mine,” I answer as I hunt through the cabinets searching for K-cups. “It’s an Airbnb. I was only in town for a few months. Didn’t seem like it would make much sense to rent a place for longer when I’d be leaving soon.”
“Oh, so you aren’t from Battleboro?” Was I imagining it or was there disappointment in her voice? I like the thought of her wanting to have me around. Not many people do these days.
“I am originally. Just back while I’m in between jobs.” I find the K-cups, an off-brand, but they’ll do, and load one up in the machine. While it gurgles to life, I lean against the countertop and grip its edge to keep my hands from reaching for her. “I’m a Wildland Firefighter.”
She nods, then laughs. “I have no idea what that means.”
“You know those big wildfires you hear of on the news out west?”
Avery’s eyes widen. “You fight with those?”
“Nine months out of the year. I’m in between contracts right now, but I’m going back for another contract in a few days.”
“So, what brings you back to Florida?” she asks. “Why not stay out west all year round?”
Good question. I consider my words while I make one cup and start another. “You want cream or sugar?” I ask.
“Both,” she says.
I stir them in and finally answer, “Family, I guess.”
She makes a noise of understanding in her throat as she sips her coffee. “That’ll do it. That’s why I’ve stayed here. I’ve never been out of the state. I imagine it’s pretty different where you go, even without the firefighters.”
“You’ll have to go sometime. Nothing like it.”
She takes the offered coffee cup and smiles sadly. “Thanks. Maybe one day.”
“What about you? What do you do when you’re not working at the restaurant or bartending?” I sit on the small recliner with my own cup of coffee and suck it back even though it’s piping hot. I could use the mental clarity before I do something stupid. Like beg her to stay with me.
“Not much,” Avery answers with a self-deprecating laugh. “I’d like to go back to school one day, but for now all I do is work. Nothing as exciting as fighting wildfires.” She lets out a yawn, then an embarrassed laugh. “I’m sorry, it’s been a long day. I worked a double shift. The coffee is sobering me up, but unfortunately, I’m still dog tired. Some company I am, huh?”
“Do you want to crash here?” I ask before I can stop myself. At her curious glance, I say, “Just sleep, I promise. Or I can call someone to take you home.”
She’s already shaking her head before I finish the suggestion. “No, that’s okay. Um, if it’s not weird, I can sleep here and walk back to my car in the morning. I mean, if you’re okay with that.”
Okay with it? It’d be a relief not to wake up all alone shrouded in nightmares. “I don’t mind. As long as you don’t care if I snore.”
Avery giggles. “I’m so tired, I probably won’t even notice.”