A tiny missile flew at her, latching its jaws around her pant leg. Rory tried to take a step back, but the guys were surging into the room, pushing her in ahead of them. Staring down at the Chihuahua hanging off the fabric covering her shin, she asked, “Enrique?”
“Enrique,” Soup confirmed, nudging her to the side. “Letty, put out that cigarette. You’re going to blow us all to kingdom come.”
“I don’t have many pleasures in life,” the woman lying on the couch wheezed. She was wrapped in a yellow blanket that had several stains that Rory didn’t want to examine too closely. “I’ll smoke if I damn well want to.”
“You’re on oxygen,” Al said, nodding toward the tank sitting on the floor next to the couch. “You can’t smoke when you’re on oxygen.”
Without a word, she blew out a stream of smoke, glaring at the lieutenant through the haze.
“Letty, if you don’t put that out right now, we’re leaving,” Ian snapped.
Grumbling under her breath, she dropped the cigarette in a jar of yellow liquid. As horrified suspicions of what was in that jar crept into Rory’s brain, the dog hanging off her pants gave another muffled growl. She looked down at him and gave her leg a shake, but he managed to keep his grip. It was kind of impressive. The tiny dog must have had the jaw strength of a pit bull.
Junior started asking Letty questions about her health history as he pulled a blood-pressure cuff from the bag he’d brought in with him. Letty levered herself into a seated position, and the blanket slid down to her lap, revealing her naked, sagging torso.
Quickly looking back to the dog still clinging to her like a Christmas-tree ornament, she focused on trying to detach Enrique from her pants. Although she knew she would need to get used to seeing naked people if she was going to be a volunteer first responder, this was only her second call. She wasn’t quite ready for full-frontal yet. She’d rather look at the dog.
“I’m going to make sure the ambulance makes it down the driveway,” Soup said in a strangled voice as he hurried from the room.
“I’ll…uh, supervise.” Al darted after him.
“Thanks, LT!” Junior called after him as he wrapped the cuff around Letty’s upper arm. “I appreciate the support and leadership!”
When Rory gave her leg another gentle shake, it brought another round of high-pitched growling, but didn’t dislodge the dog. His tenacity was beginning to concern her. She pictured having the Chihuahua as a permanent accessory.
“Um…will Enrique eventually let go?” Rory asked, her gaze darting to Ian, since she was avoiding looking at Letty, and Junior was a little too close to naked boobs for Rory to focus on him.
“Just let him hang out there,” Ian said, eyeing the dog with an amused twist to his lips. “That’ll keep him out of the way until we’re done here.”
“Out of everyone else’s way, maybe,” she muttered, but managed to resist another, more strenuous leg shake.
“It’s called taking one for the team,” Junior added before relaying Letty’s blood pressure, pulse, and respiration numbers over his portable radio.
With a sigh, Rory asked, “Can I help with anything?”
“You’re on dog duty.” Ian grinned at her. “That’s your job.”
“This one new?” Letty’s question made Rory automatically look at the other woman, which she immediately regretted. The blanket had slipped down farther, revealing pretty much everything that should’ve been covered.
“Uh, yes,” she answered, fixing her gaze firmly on Letty’s face.
“Huh,” Letty grunted. “When did they start accepting women?”
Rory blinked. “I’m a volunteer. I think they take anyone who’s willing to do this for free.”
Making a displeased face, Letty reached for her pack of cigarettes. “You’re not eye candy like the rest of them. Especially not like that one.” She jerked her chin toward Ian.
“Letty! No smoking,” Ian snapped, and the older woman’s hand yanked back, away from the smokes. Although she scowled at him, Letty left the cigarette pack alone.
The sound of boots clomping down the hallway brought Rory’s head around. Two EMTs came through the doorway. By the expressions on their faces—a mixture of resignation and distaste—both had dealt with Letty before.
“Hey, Letty,” the female EMT said, leading the way into the room. “Having some trouble breathing, huh?”
Letty glared at her. “Didn’t I tell you not to come back here?”
“Sorry.” The EMT shrugged, not looking at all put out by her patient’s animosity. “It’s like what they say in kindergarten. ‘You get who you get, and you don’t throw a fit.’”
The male EMT, tall with dark hair peeking out from under his stocking hat, eyed the Chihuahua decorating Rory’s pants and grinned. “You got dog duty, huh?”
“How could you tell?” she asked dryly, glancing down at Enrique. He was still holding strong.
The EMT laughed as he moved toward Letty. Junior rattled off her history, symptoms, and vitals before backing off and letting the two newcomers take over her care.
“So,” Junior asked quietly as he moved next to her. “How do you like the glamorous life of a firefighter so far?”
Enrique growled.
“It’s…uh”—she glanced down at the dog—“interesting.”
* * *
After everything, Letty decided she didn’t need to go to the hospital. Rory thought her wheezing breaths were alarming, but the EMTs both agreed with their patient. Ian produced some venison jerky and used it to coax Enrique into releasing his grip on Rory’s pants. To her relief, it worked. With the meat clamped in his jaws, he ran behind the couch, growling the entire way.
“She’s no worse than she usually is,” the dark-haired EMT, who introduced himself as Scott, told her once they’d left the house. “I think she calls us when she gets lonely out here.”
Rory studied him thoughtfully. “The eye-candy brigade.”
“What?” Scott laughed.
Flushing, Rory explained, “Letty said I’m not eye candy like the rest of you. Um, them.”
Leaning in closer, Scott lowered his voice. “Why, Rory. Are you calling me hot?”
“What?” She stared at him in horror, taking a step back. “No! Why would… I mean, of course not.”
When he started to laugh again, she turned away and plunged through the snow toward Rescue Two, ignoring Scott calling after her. Climbing into the warm cab was a relief, as both an escape from the cold night air and Scott’s…she didn’t know what.
Frigid air swirled into the cab as Ian climbed into the driver’s seat. He looked at her and raised an eyebrow.
“What?” she snapped, hating that she was embarrassed and confused about why.
“What was that about?”
With an exasperated huff, she tossed her hands in the air. “I have no idea. He was being weird.”
“He was hitting on you.”
Rory glared at him. “He was not.”
Real humor was absent from his laugh. “Want to bet?”
“No.” After a moment, she added, “If he was, that was inappropriate.”
“Why?” Ian eyed her curiously. “Because we’re on a call?”
“I don’t know.” Shrugging uncomfortably, she stared out the windshield at the snow lit by the truck’s headlights. “More because that house was so gross and Letty was naked.”
This time, Ian’s chuckle actually sounded amused. “Yeah. Both kind of put you off the idea of sex, don’t they?”
“Plus, I’m not interested in him.”
“Good.” The single word was thick with male satisfaction.
Her flush burned her cheeks as she stared even harder through the glass in front of them. Rory had no response to that, even if she could have shoved any words past the blockage in her throat.
He laughed again, softly. Something about the husky edge to the sound made her blush flame even hotter. To her relief, Soup yanked open the passenger-side door.
“That place is disgusting. It gets worse every time. Can’t someone do something about the state of that house?” he grumbled as he settled his body in the seat next to Rory.
“The county knows about it,” Ian said, watching as Al drove the other rescue truck toward the gate.
“What’s the problem? Not enough jars of piss in the living room?”
Rory groaned. “I thought that’s what the yellow liquid was, but I didn’t really want to know for sure. Thanks, Soup, for confirming that.”
“No problem.” He nudged her with his elbow. “Just sharing the love. Nice job with the dog, by the way.”
“That was the ‘rite of passage’ you guys were talking about?”
“Yep.” Grinning, he settled back against the seat. “Don’t worry, though. There are more to come.”
“Great.” Although she rolled her eyes, there was a warmth in her belly that had nothing to do with the truck’s heater. Maybe there was something to this whole “family” thing.
* * *
After they helped an elderly man push his Buick out of a snowy ditch and responded to a wildland fire sighting that ended up being someone’s porch light, there weren’t any more calls for the rest of their shift. By the time they headed out to the parking lot, Rory was finding it hard to keep her eyes open. The early-morning sun reflected off the Bronco’s shiny bits, making her squint. As she opened the back hatch so Jack could hop into the SUV, she couldn’t hold back a jaw-popping yawn.
“Up for breakfast?” Ian asked.
Rory yawned again. “Mind if we get a few hours of sleep first? I’m afraid I’d doze off and face-plant into my pancakes.”
“Sure.” He opened the passenger door for her, waiting until all her limbs were safely inside before shutting it. Leaning her head back against the seat, she allowed her eyes to close.
The next thing she knew, someone was nudging her. With a groan, she peeled open her heavy eyelids just enough to see it was Ian bugging her…yet again.
“Why do you keep waking me up?” she complained, fumbling to unbuckle her seat belt.
Reaching across her body, Ian unfastened the belt. His nearness enveloped her in his scent, bringing her to full, instant wakefulness. She started leaning closer, but he stepped back. With a regretful but silent sigh, she climbed out of the SUV.
“Because you keep falling asleep on me,” he said. “I’m starting to get a complex.”
Despite her flustered awareness, Rory had to grin as she headed for the door. At the thought of the exposed, too-bright guest room, though, her smile faded as she slowed her steps.
“What’s wrong?” Ian asked, resting a hand on her lower back to nudge her forward when she slowed to turtle pace.
“Nothing. Just the windows.” As soon as the words were out, she flushed. Being around Ian made her a little too honest.
“We’ll figure out something,” he said, urging her toward the door only to stop abruptly.
She glanced at his furious face before following his gaze to the skinny piece of green plastic looped over the doorknob. “What is that?”
“Get inside,” Ian ordered tersely, looking around as he crowded close to her. He unlocked the door and ripped the plastic circle off the knob before urging her into the kitchen. Once inside, he locked the door, tucked her into a corner, and told her to stay. Normally, she would’ve made a sharp comment about how she wasn’t Jack, but Ian’s furiously determined expression kept her silent as he searched the house.
After what felt like a very long time to her jittery stomach, Ian returned to the kitchen, looking no less enraged.
“What is it?” She stared at the piece of plastic lying on the floor.
With a wordless, angry sound, Ian swept it up and crammed it into the garbage under the sink. “It’s Billy, trying to scare us.”
“What?”
Ian closed his eyes for a second, looking like he was attempting to calm down. “A glow-stick. That was Rave’s thing. If someone pissed him off, he’d leave a glow-stick.”
“But…” Frowning, Rory pictured the harmless-looking item that had been hanging from Ian’s doorknob. “How is that scary?”
A muscle twitched on his jaw. “It was a message. Rave would be back to end whoever got a glow-stick.”
“Oh.” Her fingers were shaking, so she jammed them into her coat pockets to hide their revealing tremors. “So Billy’s saying he’s going to kill us.”
Suddenly, Ian was in front of her, cupping her face in both hands. “He won’t hurt you,” he promised fiercely. “I won’t let him even get near you.”
She stared at him, startled and touched by his intensity, by how determined he was to keep her safe. “I believe you,” she said, and she meant it.
“Okay.” Blowing out a hard breath, he let his hands drop to his sides. “Okay. Are you going to be able to sleep after this?” He gestured toward the closed cabinet hiding the trash can where the glow-stick resided.
The adrenaline was fading, and she felt exhaustion creeping back in. “No windows?”
“No windows.”
“Then yes.”
During the short time she was in the bathroom, Ian managed to turn his closet into a bedroom.
“Will that work?” Ian asked, frowning.
“Perfect.” She was so tired that she was swaying in place. Anything horizontal would’ve looked perfect to her.
“Sure?” He glanced between her face and the makeshift bed. “I feel kind of rude having you sleep on the floor in the closet.”
“It’s a big closet. Plus, the camping mattress is a huge step up from yesterday.”
Ian had made a bed out of an inflatable mattress and a sleeping bag on the floor of the master closet. She hadn’t been lying when she’d said it was big. It could probably sleep a family of eight comfortably.
“It still doesn’t feel right—” Ian started, but Rory cut him off.
“Please,” she begged. “I’m so tired. Can I sleep now?”
He stopped glaring at the closet bed and looked at her. “Sure.” Taking a step closer, he leaned in until she could feel his breath warm her lips. She went still, wondering if this would be the time he kissed her. His addictive scent surrounded her, making her realize how familiar it was becoming—familiar and comforting. Oddly enough, as much as he made her heart race, he calmed her, too. He moved, and she held her breath, but he only brushed his lips against her cheek. “Sleep tight.”
The second his mouth touched her skin, she felt like she’d caught fire. When she tried to tell him good night, the only thing she could force out of her tight throat was a very unladylike grunt. He grinned at the sound and then left the closet, pulling the door closed behind him.
Once he was gone, the tension seeped out of her muscles, leaving only exhaustion. She was tempted to crawl into the sleeping bag fully clothed, but she knew that what she had on was her only wearable option, besides enormous sweatpants and T-shirts. With a quiet groan, she stripped down to her underwear.
“Here’s—” The closet door opened, making Rory suck in a startled breath and twist around so her back was to Ian. “Whoa.”
“Do you mind?” she snapped, glaring at him over her shoulder, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Although she was wearing a bra that was more serviceable than sexy, and panties with enough coverage to satisfy the average grandmother, Rory still felt naked. She reminded herself that a bikini would cover less skin than what she was wearing, but it didn’t matter. She’d never been in a bikini, much less in a bikini in front of anyone—much, much less in a bikini in front of Ian, who was still staring at her. The hungry look in his eyes made her skin flush with heat, and she swallowed, her throat suddenly dry.
“No,” he said, sounding a little dazed. “I don’t mind at all.”
Obviously, she needed to be more direct. “Get. Out.”
Ian blinked and then held out a T-shirt and sweatpants. “I brought something for you to sleep in.”
“Thank you.” Her tone did not convey much gratitude. Between her mostly naked state and his smoldering stare, she was clinging to her composure by her fingernails. Awareness rushed through her, awakening feelings she didn’t even know she could have. Her flush darkened, and she knew she was blushing everywhere. “Now will you please leave?”
“Right.” After running his eyes over her almost-naked back once again, he took a step toward the door. “I knew you had a nice ass, but I’d have never guessed it was that nice.”
“Out!” she practically shrieked, barely catching herself before she whirled around to point at the door. If he was mesmerized by her underwear-clad back half, she definitely didn’t want to see his reaction to her front side—or her reaction to his reaction. Her stomach did a flip.
He held up his hands in front of him. “I’m going! I just need to take a mental picture first.”
With a growl, she looked around for something to throw at him. Of all the times not to be armed…
As if he could read her thoughts, he chuckled and exited the closet. “I know what I’m dreaming about tonight,” he said as he closed the door.
Her growl morphed into a snarl as she grabbed the first thing within reach and threw it where Ian had been standing. The plastic hanger bounced harmlessly off the wood panel, and Rory was pretty sure she heard him laugh again.
Muttering curses, she pulled on the T-shirt and pants, trying very hard not to notice the scent of his detergent clinging to the fabric. She turned off the closet light and crawled into the sleeping bag. She felt warm all over from her whole-body blush.
Although the room and the makeshift bed felt foreign, the darkness of a windowless space was reassuring. With a little effort, she could pretend she was in her underground bunker, only without her security lights. With a quiet huff, she flipped onto her side, trying to cool the embarrassment and uncomfortable excitement that flowed like fire through her veins.
As she closed her eyes, the movie began, rewound, and replayed. Rave crumpled to the floor again and again, until her eyes popped open, and she stared into the dark. She’d take humiliation and unfamiliar arousal over the looping visual of the man she killed bleeding his life away on the floor of her shop.
Instead, she shoved both Rave and Ian out of her head and mentally field-stripped an M16 over and over until she fell asleep.
* * *
A knock on the closet door woke her much too soon. With a groan, she yanked the sleeping bag over her head, but she could still hear the second, more insistent knock.
“What?” she demanded.
“State investigator’s here to talk to you.”
That woke her completely, and she wriggled out of the sleeping bag. “Out in a minute.”
Ian had sounded surly. Rory wondered if that was because he was as sleep-deprived as she was, or if his interview hadn’t gone well. With a frown, she donned her clothes, wishing she had something a little…fresher. Although they weren’t actually stinky yet, the jeans and long-sleeved shirt had had a long night under her bunker gear. Lately, she’d had the foreign and unwelcome desire to look nice for Ian. She’d even considered breaking her self-imposed ban on buying factory-made clothes and stopping into the Screaming Moose for a dress, of all things. The thought of wearing a dress and high heels made her wince—she wouldn’t even be able to walk out to feed the chickens, much less run from an attacker. She’d be safer in her jeans and combat boots. Too bad they weren’t a little more…well, feminine.
When she opened the closet door, Ian was waiting, not looking at all happy. His eyes warmed when he saw her, but he didn’t smile.
“That bad?” she asked.
His answer was just a short nod.
Making a face, she headed for the bathroom. An unpleasant interview with a state investigator about the man she’d killed wasn’t the best thing to wake up to. “Three minutes, and I’ll be ready.”
He caught her hand, pulling her to a stop. When she turned her head, Ian was right there. He dropped a quick kiss on one corner of her mouth.
“You’re even beautiful when you first wake up.”
Giving her hand a final squeeze, he walked toward the stairs. Rory, her body on fire from that simple kiss, stared after him.