Flame (Firefighters of Montana Book 5) (3 page)

So yes, The Drop Zone had been the scene of many romantic disappointments.

What was she even thinking going back there tonight?

When a group of new moms came in, a posse of Lycra and strollers, Cady looked up, glad of the distraction, and served them all with her best smile.

D
ex McCoy ignored
the pang of hunger in his stomach as he drove through Glacier Creek’s main street which hit him just about the same time Cady’s Cakes came into view. He only slowed down as he drove past for safety reasons, because there were always people coming and going on the street outside her shop. Families with little kids, older folks walking too slowly across Main Street, tired, old cowboys still trying to pretend they had a spring in their step. Safety. Yeah, that was the reason. He sure wasn’t slowing his speed to take a long look through the gleaming front window of Cady’s Cakes. There she was, every day except Sunday. She was there from first light to sunset. And he didn’t need to look too long to see her smile from the front seat of his truck. As wide as the Montana sky, as bright as the stars above when the sun dipped behind the mountains.

He’d seen Cady Adams’s smile in his head every day he’d been away.

Dex turned up the radio and a country song filled the cabin of his truck. He sang along with it, totally out of tune, until he reached the Glacier Creek service station. His base. It was a twenty-acre facility surrounded by acres of land, with a couple of airplane hangars, a helipad, and a seven-thousand square foot log cabin. Inside, were offices, a workout area, a bunk house for the crew who were on-call, and a large assembly room where the smokejumpers gathered for briefings and training. This was where he spent his time. Here and home and out at North Fork with Mitch and Sarah and Lila. And, yeah, he had to admit to a few too many nights at The Drop Zone with the crew. Dex pulled into the gravel parking lot, cut the engine, got out, and strode across the lawn to the base, the words from that country song going round in his head. Why were they always about too many beers and the girl that got away?

He pushed open the front door and looked into the big reception area. Nothing much had changed in the three months he’d been away. It felt good to be back. Dex had returned from Missoula with more experience, some tough jobs under his belt, and the strangest sense that he’d finally earned his place here on the crew. It had been a year since he’d been back in Montana, a year since he’d begun his training. Although he’d done a lot of different jobs in the years he’d been away—he worked construction in Colorado, spent a year on an oil rig in Texas, went back to what he knew on a ranch in Wyoming—and he’d learned to skydive in New Mexico for fun—being a smokejumper was new.

“Hey, Dex.” He looked to his left. Jacqui Edwards put down her cupcake, spilling crumbs all over the reception desk, and jumped up to throw her arms around him. There was a bark from under the desk and her dog, Muttley rounded it, sniffing Dex’s trousers, his tail sweeping from side to side.

“Hey, Jacqui,” he said, patting her companionably on the back as she held tight. Muttley barked excitedly, dancing around Dex’s feet.

Jacqui let go. “Oh, settle down.” She admonished and with the simple act of extending an index finger and pointing it at the hound, her dog quietened down and sat.

“Good to have you back, Dex. How was Missoula?”

He rubbed a hand over his hair. “Good.”

“Were you up there for that big one on Black Mountain?”

“Yeah.”

Jacqui’s voice quietened. “Oh, that was bad.”

“It was. How’s everything here?”

“Same old. It’s been a busy summer but not as busy as you were in Missoula, by the sounds. Your name’s not on the board today. You dropping off your gear?”

“Yeah. Better to have it here so it’s ready when I’m back on call.” Dex looked past Sam’s office to the locker room. “I hope there’s still a locker with my name on it.”

“Of course there is,” Jacqui punched his arm and chuckled. “You’re one of the crew now, rookie. Hey, since you’re here and you’re not on duty, can I ask you for a favor?”

“Sure.” Dex crouched down to ruffle Muttley’s ears. The dog closed his eyes and titled his head to the side, panting loudly and enjoying every scratch. “What do you need?”

“Once you’ve unpacked your gear, could you pick up an order for me on your way back through Glacier Creek?”

“Sure I can. Where from?”

“Cady’s Cakes,” Jacqui said, smiling. “She’s made a whole new batch of trail mix bars for the station. I need to get them in to the ration packs and since it’s quiet now, fingers crossed, I thought I might use this quiet time to get everything ready for the search and rescue season.”

“Sure.” Dex felt the tension in his jaw. “I’ll get my gear out of the truck, then I’ll head over.”

Muttley whimpered when Dex stood and stopped scratching the dog’s ear.

“Don’t leave it too long. You’ll want to get over there before closing time.”

As he walked back out to his truck, he tried not to notice that Jacqui was stifling a grin. He had the distinct feeling he was being set up.

*

Cady checked her
watch, saw it was almost five. Two minutes to five in fact. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, trying not to think about her aching feet or the tiny headache that had been pounding in her forehead for what seemed like hours. She was tired today, a little more than she usually was. Adrenalin and the business of her shop seemed to carry her though to closing most days, but not today. There was something on her mind, something that had flown in, landed there, and had been hanging on for dear life since she talked to Jacqui earlier that morning.

As she surveyed her now empty shop, she let out a deep breath thanked the angels—and her regular customers—for another successful day in Cady’s Cakes. And as she watched the cars drive by her front window, in what passed for rush hour in Glacier Creek, her mind drifted to the commemoration ceremony for Russ Edwards one week from today. She had already planned what she was going to bake for the gathering at The Drop Zone after. Three different kinds of bars, which she could make in the days leading up, and then a range of savoury muffins and different kinds of cupcakes. As she stood in the fading afternoon light, the shadows long in the street outside, she had an idea to decorate some of them the red, white and blue of Russ’s parachute. She bent over to grab a pen from the shelf under the counter—to write herself a note so she wouldn’t forget—when she heard the close rumble of a truck.

She looked up quickly. It was Dex. She watched while he parked right outside her shop, got out, and walked to the front door.

Well, wasn’t this a surprise?

For the first time since she’d opened up, Dex McCoy was coming into Cady’s Cakes. What the hell was going on? They hadn’t said a word to each other in forever. And since they’d both been back in Glacier Creek, there was maybe a sullen glance across The Drop Zone. A reluctant nod if they passed each other in the street. But not one single word for four years.

When he pushed open the door and lifted his eyes from his boots, Cady’s chest tightened and her pulse skipped. God, he looked good. Better than ever. Back in high school, she’d thought he was dreamy, but now? He was smoking hot. Cady took in his tall, rangy frame, his long, loping stride, the deep tan of his revealed forearms and his neck, his jaw, his cheeks. His dirty blond hair, spiky and unruly. Exactly like Dex himself.

“Hey, Cady,” he said.

Cady lifted her chin, shoved her left hand on her right to stop the tap-tap-tapping of her pen. She found the most businesslike voice she could muster. She was Cady from Cady’s Cakes, after all. “Hello, Dex.”

He reached the counter, stopped, and she watched him shove his big hands into the pockets of his jeans. She swallowed hard. She knew they were big hands. He’d used them once to push her away. One night, a long time ago. The no talking for four years thing was a pretty good indication he was as determined as she was to forget about what had happened.

“How’ve you been?” She could be friendly, even if he felt like a stranger now.

“Good.”

“How was Missoula?”

Dex raised an eyebrow. “How did you know I was in Missoula?”

“This is Glacier Creek, Dex. Small towns talk, remember?” Maybe he’d forgotten about that, since he’d been away for so long.

“Missoula was good.”

He certainly hadn’t learned the art of conversation while he’d been away. He took a good long look around her shop, seemingly taking in every detail. And when his gaze returned to her face, he was serious and still.

“This place looks really great.”

“Well… thanks.” Cady felt the familiar swell of pride and let herself enjoy it.

“Congratulations.”

We’ve both come a long way
, Cady thought, but she didn’t say it. “I wish I could offer you something but I’ve pretty much sold out of everything, except that one lonely chocolate chip cupcake there. I’ve already cleaned the coffee machine and”—she flicked a glance at the watch on her wrist, noticing the minute hand had just ticked over past twelve—“I’m now officially closed.”

Dex seemed to be hiding a smile, his lips pulled tight. He also had some muscle action going on in his jaw that was kind of mesmerising.

“I’m not here for coffee or…” His eyes dipped to the display cabinet. “Or… cupcakes. Jacqui sent me. You’ve got some trail bars for the station?”

Of course she had some trail bars for the fire station. It was a standing order at Cady’s Cakes. The energy food bars, densely packed with nuts, seeds, oats and almonds, were a staple in the food packs for the smokejumpers when they set off to fight fires. They needed calorie dense foods to keep their energy up for the sometimes days they spent in the inaccessible mountain ranges around Flathead Lake. She’d been supplying them since she’d opened up a year ago.

“Of course. I’ll just grab them. They’re in the back.” She looked past his wide shoulders to the front door. “Would you mind keeping an eye out? I haven’t locked up.”

“Sure.”

Cady wiped her suddenly damp hands on her apron and went to the back of the shop to the storeroom. The bars were packed in a cardboard box, sealed in plastic ziplock bags. When she walked back to him, carrying the box with both hands, Dex’s eyes were on her, studying every step. Every sway of her hips underneath the flare of the pink apron. She hated that she noticed. She liked that he did.

She put the box on the counter. “Here you go.”

“Thanks, Cady.”

And then he paused, just for a moment, and something zinged in the air between them. Something like a long lost memory. Something like desire. He looked up. She met his eyes. They were dark, mysterious, and there were words there, hidden behind that mystery. For just a flicker, she was eighteen again. Cady didn’t realise she was holding her breath until she felt the burn in her lungs.

She had to look away. She grabbed a pair of tongs. She reached for the last cupcake in the display window, the one she’d been planning to take home for herself and have for dinner—it sure beat frozen leftovers—and positioned it on top of the box of trail bars.

Dex looked at it. Then looked at Cady. His dark chocolate eyes were like the caramel she poured into trays to make caramel slice.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“It’s a chocolate chip cupcake. It’s one of my best sellers.”

Dex regarded it. “I’ll give it to Jacqui.”

Cady sighed, fixed her fists to her hips. “It’s not for Jacqui. It’s for
you
.”

“For me?” He looked at it suspiciously.

Why was he looking at her as if he suspected she’d put bait in it?

Cady found some sass. “Yes. It’s for you.”

“I can’t take that.” There was a flare in those caramel eyes of his. He reached for the cupcake and put it on the counter, careful to hold it by its paper wrapping.

Cady paused. She put it back on the box.

Dex put it back on the counter.

She huffed. “What? Don’t tell me—you don’t eat carbs?”

“No, not much.” A glance at the stretch of his T-shirt across his chest backed up what he’d just said.

“It’s good, you know.”

“I’m sure it’s good.”

“So what is it then? You don’t want it because I made it, right? Cady’s Cakes not good enough for you, Dex McCoy. Is that it?”

He stared at her, his face expressionless. And Cady suddenly realised she wasn’t talking about her chocolate chip cupcake anymore. Four years ago, he hadn’t thought she was good enough for him. Seemed like nothing had changed in all these years. Dealing with Dex McCoy was like
Groundhog Day
.

She grabbed the bag, pulled out the cupcake, opened her mouth, and took a huge bite. Damn, it was good. Dex didn’t say a word. He lifted the box under one arm and left.

D
ex tossed the
box in the passenger side of his truck and stomped to the other side, flinging open the door and starting the engine with a fierce twist and a throaty throb on the accelerator.

Cady Adams was playing with his mind.