It took a special kind of douchebag for me to feel hate almost immediately after meeting him, but the dude standing next to me in the elevator bay was ogling who he’d just called “the hot piece of ass behind the counter.” His eyes met mine, his brows lifted once, and then he targeted the same space where she was standing. I didn’t have to turn around to know who he was staring at. He didn’t look like a hotshot, but I’d seen him in the lobby. Then I recalled him standing in line to be checked in, his hand on the ass of the woman with whom he’d checked in.
He laughed once, looking down. “I can’t walk away from that,” he said, turning for the front desk.
I jabbed the elevator button with my thumb, silently scolding myself. She’s not your problem. You don’t care. You don’t care. Just go to your room. Stop caring. Fuck. The silver doors slid open, and I stepped inside. I sighed, waiting for the doors to close and to forget about the girl behind the desk. When the doors began to close, I pushed against them and rushed out like someone had thrown a grenade inside.
The ass grabber was leaned over the check-in desk, practically cooing at Darby. She looked repulsed, and I couldn’t blame her. The dude still had bedhead from nailing his roommate upstairs. There was a white halo around where his wedding ring should’ve been, and something told me the woman upstairs wasn’t his wife.
I glared at him before speaking. “Hey, babe. Before I forget, did you need me to bring you anything from the room?” I asked, trying to keep the rage out of my voice.
She blinked, and for half a second, I wasn’t sure she’d play along. She glanced at the man in front of her, and her face relaxed with a smile. “No, but you don’t have to go right now. You can hang out here if you want.”
The man stood upright. “Oh. Hey,” he said, holding his hand out to shake mine.
I just stared at it, then returned my attention to the girl behind the desk.
“Have a nice night, sir,” she said.
The man simply nodded before retreating to the elevators.
“Sorry. I had a feeling he was bugging you.”
“He was,” she said, looking relaxed. Getting hit on put this girl in her element. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
Nailed it. I liked being able to predict things about her, and not like it was a game. I felt a weird sense of pride.
“I don’t doubt that for a second. Still…this way was more efficient.” I wasn’t sure that was the truth, and she wasn’t going to say otherwise. She’d probably had a lifetime of shooting men down. “Well…good night.”
“Thank you,” she said before I made a full one-eighty. “I didn’t mean that I don’t appreciate the effort.”
I hesitated before speaking again. Even one more word, and…“Did you say you work nights?”
“Until eleven this week. I start nights next week after I’m finished training.”
“Training? Looks like you’re doing this solo already.”
She smiled, her eyes twinkling. The siren-call thing she had going wasn’t even on purpose, and that’s what threw me off. She radiated effortless seduction and innocence at the same time. I’d never seen anything like it, and I was completely fucking sucked in.
“Tilde wasn’t feeling well. She left a little early.”
“You’re a champ. Stavros better never let you go,” I said. She smiled, and I kept talking just to see if I could make it happen again. “I’m at work by six a.m., so next week I’ll probably see you on the way out.”
“Probably.” She didn’t twirl her hair, she didn’t stare too long into my eyes, she didn’t chat me up or give me a once-over. Nothing about her signaled that she was at all attracted to me, and still all I wanted was her attention. Just one more smile. One more word. Whatever she would give me, and it was pissing me off.
“What are you doing for dinner?” I asked, not knowing what else to say.
“Why?”
I shrugged. “I could eat.”
She laughed, and it was the best thing I’d ever heard. In fact, the more she spoke, the more I was sure she was her. “Why are you always trying to feed me?”
I couldn’t help but laugh with her. She had a point. “I don’t know. You look hungry, I guess.”
“Um…thanks?” She giggled.
“I just meant…uh…” I looked around. Floundering desperately was something new for me. I usually met women at the bar, a club, or a party. This was worse than enemy territory. Of course, the one worth having would be a challenge. “The lobby cleared out fast.”
She looked around, seeming to just notice. “Most of the hotshots either have to be up early to head up the mountain or are exhausted from just coming in from fire camp.”
“Fire camp? You sound like one of them,” I teased.
“Them?”
“Us.”
She watched me for a moment. She knew I was lying. Fuck. I’m better than this.
“I’ve talked to over a hundred in the past two days,” she said. She was trying to let my comment slide off, proud that I’d pointed out how fast she’d picked up the lingo. One thing I learned at the Bureau was how to read people, and this girl—despite her efforts—was an open book for someone like me. She wasn’t from Colorado. By the sounds of it, she came straight from Texas. She wore the same clothes to work—not the typical uniform—and devoured the food I’d given her. She had come to the Springs in a hurry, with whatever money she had on her at that moment, and whatever clothes she was wearing. As much as I wanted to ask why she was running—or who she was running from—I didn’t want to scare her off.
I shoved my hands in my pockets. “So…how’s the training going? Getting dropped in during a political fire had to be daunting.”
“I’ve heard that a few times. What’s a political fire?”
“One the news covers, so they bring everyone in.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that’s what this is. Is that why you’re here?” I opened my mouth to speak, but she continued, “Because you were here before the fire.”
I tried to keep my face smooth, but even if I didn’t believe in any god, lying to this girl felt like a sin. If I’d taken a job anywhere else, I could have told her. It was painful to say the words. “This area has been at high risk for a while.”
“Is that what you do? Scout potential fire sites?”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “It’s…complicated.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Mysterious.”
She carried a long, black remote to the sofas and pointed it at the television, changing the channel. The local news was still reporting on the fire, and she hugged her middle.
“It’s okay,” I said, just realizing I’d automatically followed her. “It’s still miles out.”
“Zeke said he’s going up soon. Seems like it’s getting worse.”
“Eating up a lot of acreage, for sure. He’ll be fine. He’s been doing this awhile. You know him?”
She shook her head. “He’s just been nice to me. We’re supposed to watch a movie when he gets back.”
“Oh,” I said, understanding, and then feeling an overwhelming sense of disappointment.
She turned to me, noting my expression. “No, we’re um…we’re just friends.”
I nodded, trying not to look too relieved. She made me feel more on edge than being alone, at night, bleeding to death on the southern border of Sudan, and I loved it.
Her cheeks filled and she blew out air.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Just feeling queasy and shaky all of a sudden.”
“Maybe your blood sugar is low. Why don’t you sit? I’ll get you something out of the vending machine.”
She shook her head. “The vending machine is full of junk.”
“Okay. Anything in the breakfast room?”
She thought about that. “Good idea. Probably cereal or a banana or something in there.”
She started to get up again, but I held up one hand. She didn’t look in any condition to protest. “You just relax. I’ll find you something.”
I jogged across the lobby to the dining area, searching through the cabinets. I found two bowls of cereal, a banana, and hiding behind a door was a full-sized refrigerator full of school cafeteria–sized cartons of milk and small cups of vanilla ice cream. “Score,” I said aloud, grabbing four cups and two spoons.
I jogged back. Her eyes widened and she scooted to the edge of her seat. “Oh my god, are you serious?”
I set down the ice cream, the plastic spoons, the milk, the bowls of cereal, and the banana. “Knock yourself out.”
“We have ice cream?”
I watched with strange satisfaction as she opened the milk and peeled back the cover on the cereal bowl and combined them, then dug in. She poured more milk into a second bowl and finished that off, too, before peeling the banana. She hummed, and I smiled, my entire body relaxing as I watched her eat. She tossed the peel to the table, prompting me to open two cups of ice cream.
“To continental breakfasts,” I said, holding my cup toward hers.
She touched her cup to mine. “To Stavros. I’m going to have to pay him back for all of this.”
I scooped out a spoonful of creamy white and put it in my mouth. “I don’t eat breakfast. It makes up for this.”
She tried to stifle a smile but failed, and then she scooped a bite, closing her eyes and savoring every moment the ice cream was in her mouth.
“You look pretty happy right now.”
“I am,” she said, leaning back against the soft cushion. “You have no idea.”
“Is it a good time to ask about your name?”
She turned her head toward me. “My name?”
“Yeah. Maddox tells me there’s a story.”
“Oh,” she said, brushing the crumbs off her pants. “So you were talking to Taylor about me, huh?”
I would’ve been embarrassed, but the slightest hint of a smile curved the corners of her mouth. “Yep.”
Her gaze found its way to the ceiling, and a million memories seemed to play in her mind. “It’s really dumb.”
“Nothing dumb about that name.” Darby. It fit her perfectly. Unique without being silly. Not too feminine but effortlessly beautiful. “Where did your parents come up with that?”
She sighed. “There’s a film about a drunk Irish guy and leprechauns that they used to watch all the time. I guess I’m named after him. Sort of.”
“Darby O’Gill and the Little People?”
She giggled. “You’ve heard of it? My brother used to say it was awful.”
Used to. Damn it. Her brother is dead. Don’t be an agent right now, Trex. Don’t analyze everything she says and grill her about what doesn’t make sense right now. Just listen.
“That’s quite a story. Not as intriguing as I thought, but unique, nevertheless. Sean Connery was in that movie, you know. The special effects are quite convincing.”
She covered her laugh, still staring up at the ceiling. She looked exhausted. I glanced at my watch. The other kid, Ander, should be coming in to relieve her within an hour, and that meant our conversation would be over.
“Your turn,” she said.
I settled into the sofa. “I’m from Kansas, originally. Goodland. My dad, Scott, is a Baptist preacher. My mom, Susanne, plays the piano and leads the choir. I have a little sister, Hailey. She’ll be a senior this year.”
Darby looked at me as if I were describing the perfect family, and I should have just let her believe that, but I was already being dishonest with her about my career. Lying to her about anything else felt even more wrong.
“Nope, it’s not as great as it sounds.”
“Really? Because it sounds pretty great.”
“My dad was strict. As in ‘Spare the rod, spoil the child.’ He’d beat me, then beat my mom for crying over it. He’s chilled out over the years, though.”
Darby winced. She was empathic to the point that she could feel the belt on my mother’s skin. Probably because she had felt it in the past. My heart sped up, the hairs on the back of my neck tingled as the unavoidable vision formed in my mind. “Sorry,” I said, through my teeth. I took a breath to try to relax my jaw. “Probably too much info.”
“No, it’s okay.” She looked at me differently, like we were on the same team. Trust flickered in her eyes, but I knew it would take more than a story to win her over. “How old were you when it stopped?” she asked.
“When I got bigger than him. I moved out as soon as I was eighteen…” I nearly said “to join the Marines,” but caught myself. Telling her about my military career would only lead into how I became a hotshot or worked with the hotshots. I couldn’t tell her what I really did, and she didn’t know me well enough to know I wasn’t bullshitting. My choices were to lie…or to lie. I figured keeping that part of my life as vague as possible wouldn’t hurt. “I moved to San Diego for a bit.”
She nodded, as if she were remembering with me. “My mom was tough, too. She kept me in pageants until I was in high school.” She breathed out a laugh. “It’s hard to believe she was a pageant mom, now. All my old pageant friends wish their mothers would stay out of their lives. I can’t seem to get her attention anymore.”
I frowned. Who could be stupid enough to ignore Darby? “What about your dad?”
Two tiny lines formed between her brows. Pain. She was hiding pain.
“I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it.”
She looked down. “No…it’s…nice to talk about it. I haven’t, really.” She looked down at her melting ice cream, then put it on the table. “I’d just gotten my license the month before. Five-car pileup. We were second. It was ugly. Dad and my brother Chase were the only fatalities.”
“Drunk driver?” I asked.
She turned her head to face me. The color had returned to her face. She was feeling better, but the pain in her eyes was undeniable. “No. It was me,” she said. “Dad was angry that I had kept something from him. We argued. My full focus wasn’t on the road. Looking back, he wasn’t angry at me at all. He was angry he’d gone all that time being friendly to someone who wasn’t a friend. I know that’s what he’d tell me if he was still here. I miss them both a lot.”
I tried not to smile. Smiling would be out of place in that moment, but she was a realist like me. There was plenty to beat ourselves up about, but we were also aware of our faults without playing the victim. I respected that about her more than anything.
She continued, “The car in front of us turned into the other lane, and in the next second…” She breathed out like the air had been knocked out of her. “I hit the semi in front of us. They died instantly. I woke up in the hospital four days later. Instead of pageants, I practiced walking after my legs healed. Once Mama got me on my feet, she moved to Louisiana. She didn’t even say good-bye.” She paused, her expression changing. “You look mad.”
I smoothed my features. “Me? No. No, just hate to hear anyone treated you bad.”
Her eyebrows raised once. “Then I won’t tell you the rest.”
My adrenaline began to pump, the way it did when I felt something bad was on the horizon. I couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but the urge to be a hero was getting harder to ignore with every word she spoke. She didn’t deserve the life she’d had. No wonder she’d run away.
“You can tell me whatever you want. I’ll listen.”
She smiled. “I bet you would.”
“You seem to know something about me that I don’t.”
Surprised, she settled against the sofa and leaned forward a bit. The fact that I could point out what she was thinking without her telling me was intriguing to her. “Tell me. What do I think I know?”
“That I’m just talking to you for a result.”
“And what result is that?” she asked.
I smiled. “I didn’t take you for a game-player.”
She blinked. “I’m not.”
“Then just say it. We don’t have to dance around it for an hour. Whoever is the bluntest wins.”
“Challenge accepted. There is no way I’m sleeping with you. Ever. I just got out of a not-great relationship and I have a lot going on.”
“Like what?”
She hesitated, but finally decided to be as blunt as we agreed to be. “That’s none of your business.” She seemed pleased to say the words; relieved, even.
“Fair enough. But I’m not chatting with you as a segue. I’m interested in getting to know you. We both know you’re probably the most beautiful woman in three states.”
“Just three?” She smiled, and I nearly forgot what I was going to say next.
“I was being conservative. But this isn’t a recon mission.”
“Recon mission, huh? What did you do before the forestry service?”
“None of your business,” I said.
She burst out laughing. I had to agree, being this honest was refreshing, and I liked her even more for enjoying it as much as I did, even though it was so far against her Southern upbringing she would have to concentrate to sustain it.
“Do you still talk to her?” I asked. “Your mom?”
“I called her just before I came here. I was engaged.” She looked over to check my reaction. “She wasn’t in a position to help me, of course, so I bailed. I came to Colorado Springs in my wedding dress.”
“Runaway bride?” I asked. That part of her story I wasn’t expecting.
Her brows turned in, forming twin lines between them. “Shawn was mean. Real mean. I had to get out of there.”
“Did he hit you?”
She peeked up at me.
I breathed out, trying to let go of the violent rage building inside of me. I wanted to kill a man I’d never met. Wouldn’t be the first time, but I didn’t want to explain any of that to Darby.
“I’m not stupid, you know. I mean, I believed him at first when he apologized. After a while, the apologies were the only peaceful moments. I just…I didn’t care about myself then. I didn’t think I deserved better. I caused a lot of hurt for a lot of people.”
“You still…you still didn’t deserve that, Darby. I swear to god you didn’t.”
“Don’t swear to God,” she said, her smooth features wrinkling in disgust.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. It just doesn’t mean anything to me. I forget.”
“What do you mean?” she said, her attention piqued. “You don’t believe in God?”
“There are over three thousand gods in human history. Which one?”
“The only one.”
I chuckled. “Who says?”
“Isn’t your dad a preacher?”
“Yes.”
“Then how can you not believe?”
“Because I’ve read the Bible, and then I researched how it was put together. After that, I researched the history of Christianity. Then, paganism and the Second Temple. Does it offend you? Because I don’t hold it against you that you believe in an invisible man in the sky.”
She crossed her arms and faced forward. “I wasn’t offended until now.”
“Does he talk to you? Do you hear an audible voice?”
“Actually, he does.” She turned to face me, a grimace weighing down her features. I knew I was pissing her off, but I just couldn’t stop. It was like I was finally able to say everything to my father I’d been wanting to say, and it was flowing out of my mouth like word vomit, all to a woman whose company I was quickly becoming addicted to.
“Oh? I mean, that’s cool. I’m just surprised. What does god sound like? Your god. I’m assuming he’s the only one to talk to you, because…you know…he’s the only one.”
Her lips parted as she sucked in a tiny gasp, but the corners of her mouth were turned up. She wasn’t angry, just surprised. Talking to Darby was like taking enemy fire, both terrifying and comforting. I felt vulnerable, and at any moment my whole world could end, but I was also in my element. I was good at navigating the maze that was Darby Cooke, as if I had a choice. Everything about her drew me in; her voice was soft and soothing, her eyes calm, that sweet smile set the rage inside of me at ease. I hadn’t felt that kind of peace in a long time. I knew I could push her a little out of her comfort zone and she wouldn’t hate me for it. As a matter of fact, she was leaned forward, begging me to egg her on.
“It’s more like a feeling than an audible voice,” she said.
“So, your conscience? So it’s really you, not god, you’re talking to. Because, believe it or not, that makes you sound less crazy.”
Her cheeks flushed a bright pink. “It’s called faith. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for God.”
“What did he do?”
Her eyes narrowed. “He kept me safe. He got me here.”
“He kept you safe,” I deadpanned. “So why did you come to Colorado Springs with just the clothes on your back?”
She faced forward, folding her arms across her middle.
“Unless you got in god’s Mazda and he drove you here…sounds like you saved yourself.”
“I…” She stopped, thinking about my words. “I did. But he gave me the strength.”
“So, you’re weak? I don’t buy that. Someone who travels alone without a plan or enough money for food is pretty damn brave.”
“Or stupid,” she grumbled.
“You left because you decided not to marry an abusive boyfriend. Sounds pretty smart to me.”
“That’s because you don’t know about the hundreds of poor choices I made before that moment and can’t judge me for them.”
“I wouldn’t anyway.”
She smiled at me. Darby was a heaven I could believe in.
“You’re a decent human being, Trex. Even if you are an atheist.”
I puffed out a laugh. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“I don’t like that you’re an atheist—whatever you are—but I can still like you, I guess.”
“Well, that’s not very Christian-like.”
She glared at me. “We all come short of the glory of God.”
“That’s convenient.”
“Ugh! Why don’t you just leave and let me work?”
She was still smiling. She didn’t mean it, and that made my insides do backflips and high fives and fist bumps and chest bumps. Darby made me feel like a boy and a superhero at the same time. I was decent because to her, I wasn’t a monster. If she knew more about me, she might change her mind.
I lifted my wrist. “I’d let you work, but you’ve been off for half an hour.”
“I have?” she asked, reaching for my watch.
My arm in her hand was the best thing I’d felt in a long time, and I let the muscles in my arm relax, letting her hang on as long as she needed. Her skin was so soft and warm. The sudden urge to touch the rest of her came over me.
“I have,” she repeated. She looked at me and then at the front desk. Ander was leaned against the wall, tapping away at his phone. Her eyes fell to my lips. “An atheist. I’m so disappointed in you, Trex.”
“We just have religious differences. I don’t really think you’re crazy. Maybe a little misled.”
She leaned in, still staring at my lips. Her breath was sweet, the ice cream still lingering on the tongue I wanted in my mouth. I couldn’t have thought of anything else in that moment if I needed to.
“I have a long, bad history with jerks,” she said.
“I can pretend to be one long enough to get your attention.”
“You have it.”
I swallowed. I’d never met anyone like Darby. She was like crack and Christmas.
She paused a few inches from my face, blinking as if a spell had been broken. “I should probably…” She stood, bending down to pick up the trash from our meal.
“I’ll get it,” I said. “You should rest.” I stood. “You look exhausted.”
She looked up at me. “Is that a dig at my looks, or are you trying to take care of me?”
I pretended to think about it. “Definitely the latter.”
“I am tired.”
“Good night, then.” I stared down at her, never needing to kiss someone so bad in my life.
“You want to kiss me, don’t you?”
“Have you ever been alone with a man who hasn’t?”
She thought about that. “Besides my dad and brother? No.”
“Maybe it’s best that we don’t. Atheists are terrible kissers.”
“Oh, really?”
“Tastes like sulfur.”
She giggled. “I guess that means I’ll taste like clouds and sunshine?”
“I was hoping for ice cream,” I said.
My answer stunned her for a moment, and then she touched my chest, pretending to look at the buttons on my shirt as she contemplated what to do next. I leaned into her hand until I could feel the warmth of her skin through my shirt. Guilt shadowed her face. She patted me twice, and I knew our night was over.
“I’m sorry. I’m not…I can’t.”
“Don’t apologize. Really. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
She looked disappointed as she waved. “Good night,” she said, walking to her room.
After she disappeared from sight, Ander looked over at me. “Ouch.”
“Shut up, kid,” I said, bending down to pick up the leftover ice cream cups, milk cartons, and plastic wrap.
“Stavros said something bad happened to her.”
I frowned, carrying the trash to the garbage can, tossing it in. “Yeah.”
“Do you know what it was?”
“No,” I lied, protecting her secret and myself. Before I knew her, I’d have wanted to kill anyone for hurting her. Now it would be all I could do not to call in favors and hunt the bastard down.
“Well, whatever it was, he was a soldier or something. My grandma said she’s sworn off military, firefighters, cops…so it’s not you. I can tell she likes you. It’s just that she’s not interested in your type anymore.”
“Have a good night, Ander.”
Ander bobbed his head once, and I could feel his eyes on me as I walked to the stairs. Darby was a mess, I was a mess, and continuing to talk to her was just asking for trouble. I couldn’t tell her about my job, and even if I could, she would write me off, anyway.
I didn’t think I could hate the man she left behind more, but with that one thought, I wanted him dead.