Playing With Fire: inspirational romantic suspense (Montana Fire Book 2) (10 page)

He finally found a niche about four hundred yards off the path, almost obscured from foot traffic, a small enclave in the rocks.

Their own viewing platform about ten-feet wide that opened up to the west.

“Box seats,” he said. He helped her down to the enclave, then opened his backpack. Pulled out a blanket. He spread it on the ground for her.

Huh.

She hunkered down next to him. “A
day
hike? It looks like you packed for the weekend.”

“Just a quick trip up the mountain,” he said. “To see something amazing and beautiful.”

Her heart just stopped. Because he wasn’t looking at the sunset, the layers of magenta and purple, the way it turned the mesa a rich, burnt red.

No, his eyes were on her.

“Liza, I—” He looked away. “I lied to you.”

What?

“I wasn’t just
in the
area
.”

Oh. She let a smile slide free.

“I wanted to see you. I missed you, and I know I should have called, and I know I don’t deserve your friendship...”

Oh. Right. She managed to keep her smile.

“But I can’t get you out of my head.”

Her voice left her, her throat dry as he looked at her again, his eyes thick with emotion. Longing? Sadness? Hope? She couldn’t place it, her own emotions a tangle.

He had such beautiful eyes—in the sunset they turned gold at the irises, rich blue at the edges, the kind of eyes that could hold her captive.

Had, actually, for two years.

“I don’t know how, but you make me feel like my entire life isn’t filled with holes and broken promises.” He touched her face, ever so gently, his fingers tracing down her skin.

Lighting it afire.

“Can I...um...”

And then because she couldn’t help herself, because suddenly her code of staying just friends seemed stupid and childish in the face of her longings, she leaned forward.

Conner kissed her. Softly, just a brush of his lips against hers, as if testing.

Hoping.

She closed her eyes, savoring.

He nudged his hand around the back of her neck, his thumb on her cheek, caressing, and deepened his kiss, his mouth opening, still gentle.

Still testing.

He tasted of coffee and chocolate ice cream, of a hunger held in check behind the tenderness of his kiss. He smelled of the outdoors, the brilliance of the sunset simmering on the horizon, the exhilaration of the skydive, the courage to jump into a blazing fire.

And he’d tracked her down, all the way to Arizona.

She surrendered, sinking into his embrace, nearly disbelieving this moment.

He put his other hand on her waist, scooted closer to her, curling that arm around her back.

With her hands on his chest, she could feel his heartbeat pulsing against her palm.

As if he were nervous.

Oh. Conner.

Because if she
weren’t
dreaming, then it was no use trying to tell herself that she wouldn’t be completely shattered, her heart in pieces when he walked away.

Except, maybe, if he could promise her—

What? That he loved her? That he’d never hurt her?

Oh.

What…was…she…
doing
?

Liza pushed on his chest, just a little, enough for his embrace to loosen.

For him to lift his head.

“Are you...is this okay?”

Conner stared down at her, his eyes darkening with the sunset. And she wanted to say yes. That she could stay here all night, pocketed in his embrace.

That it didn’t matter that he couldn’t give her tomorrow, that he’d vanish from her life.

And she got it—really. Because a guy like Conner, with so many losses, simply couldn’t believe in a happy ending.

But she did. Or wanted to.

However, she refused to force him to promise her one.

“Yeah,” she said, her eyes filling. “I’m just wondering—” And shoot, she wanted to stop herself, even heard herself screaming, waving semaphores. “What happens next?”

He drew in a breath, swallowed, and she tried not to let it feel like a sledgehammer to her chest. Tried not to let herself die, right there in his arms. Especially when, for a second, a stripped, almost-panicked expression flashed through his eyes.

He attempted to hide it with a smile. Then, “We’ll see. We’ll just take each day as it comes. I can’t make any promises.”

Right. Of course. She
knew
that part. “Yeah, okay,” she said, her throat thick.

She was right. This was really going to hurt.

And it did. Because she foolishly let him kiss her again. Foolishly stayed there as the sun set, then foolishly let herself relax into his embrace and watch the moon rise, let him wrap the blanket around her, coax her into laughter as she listened to more stories of his life.

Foolishly let him guide her back down the mountain.

And when he asked, she foolishly agreed to meet him early enough to watch the sun rise.

Then, she did the first smart thing she’d done since she met Conner Young.

She packed her bags, slid a letter of resignation under the door to the Vitae office.

And left town.

Leaving her foolish, broken heart behind.

Current day…

It seemed to Conner that he spent way too long searching for things that just didn’t want to be found.

“Seriously, dude. She’s gone. Vanished.” Reuben urged forward his horse, a beautiful brown-and-white paint, across the meadowland and along the ridge of the gully, muttering his annoyance. In fact, everything out of Reuben’s mouth this early in the morning had mostly been just a clearly formed growl.

The sum of the fellow smokejumper and cowboy’s words since Conner had rousted him out of bed consisted of
Are you kidding me?
and
Stop talking so loud
.

Not that Reuben had a hangover—Conner suspected the raging headache had to do with his weekend rodeoing at the Ember Hotline Saloon and Grill.

“I have to find her, Reuben. I can’t lose her.”

“And you wonder why we call this drone-thingie your girlfriend.” A modern-day cowboy in a black T-shirt and jeans, except for his requisite cowboy boots and weather-beaten camel-brown Stetson, Reuben bridged two worlds—jumping fire and trying to keep the Marshall family ranch in the black, along with his slew of brothers and sisters still reeling after the death of their father.

Conner didn’t care how much Reuben groused. He wasn’t throwing in the towel on his piece of mechanical ingenuity.

And yeah, maybe he’d spent way too much time working on the design, testing the improvements, but it wasn’t like he had anything else to fill his off time.

Like, say, calling a friend. Or former friend.

Whatever.

“I know it’s around here—the map pinpointed the drone’s last-known position right over this ridge.” Conner held his phone, which he’d imported the drone’s tracking system on, and tried to align it with their location.

The town of Ember, four miles ahead to the east, tucked away under the shadow of the Kootenai National Forest. The Cabinet Mountains behind him to the southwest, rising like a dragon, gray spikes pricking the dome of the morning.

To the north, Highway 2 cut through the northwest territory of Montana, running parallel to the Kootenai River. And just below him, the Prairie River, an offshoot of the mighty Kootenai, tumbled over rock, through gullies, and dissected a thousand prime acres of delicious ranch land. Land that was currently dotted with the shaggy, thunderous forms of over five hundred sleeping Montana buffalo.

“I’m not going down there, just in case you were considering it,” Reuben, now-former friend and current defector said, shifting in his saddle. “And neither is old Gracie there. When you said you needed a horse, I was picturing a lazy ride into the mountains, not an Old West posse on the hunt for one of your little toys.”

And that was… Just. It.

“Not a toy,” Conner said tightly, bringing the binoculars up to scan the herd, searching for the blinking tractor beacon. “A drone. An
expensive
test drone that reads fire and wind and predicts patterns and that just might, someday, save your sorry hide.”

He didn’t add that maybe it could have saved Jock and the seven other members on their Jude County Smokejumper crew who had perished almost a year ago, trapped in a fire. Instead he skipped to, “So yeah, if I have to ride your old nag down into the middle of that herd of buffalo, that’s exactly—”

“Gracie is hardly a nag. She did five years on the rodeo circuit, won three world championships in the Palomino World Show in barrel racing, heeling, and breakaway roping. She’s not skittish with dogs, will cross rivers, and stands tied. You couldn’t ask for a better horse, and frankly, you don’t deserve a gal like Gracie.”

Probably that was true. Conner probably didn’t deserve
any
gal. “Sorry.”

Reuben ran his thumb and finger into his eyes. “Tell me again where you think this life-saving toy plane went down?”

“I don’t know. I lost the signal somewhere around here. But even before that, it stopped responding to my commands.”

“Even your drones leave you,” Reuben said with a smile. “Dude, you have issues.”

Conner returned the smile, refusing to flinch at the way Reuben’s comment dug into the open wound Liza’s unexplained exit—full-out run, really—left in his chest.

“This is the fourth drone that’s gone crazy and disappeared off the radar. And I’m the one digging into my wallet to fund these so-called toys, so I’ve got to find it.”

He scanned the field again, the morning shadows still thick enough to detect the orange beacon, should it still be operational.

Reuben shifted in his saddle. “Tell me again why you were flying this at night?”

“Tests. To see how the night vision worked in tracing the terrain. I would have come out last night, but I had to download the flight data and chart it to determine where it went down.”

“You missed Kate and Jed’s engagement party.”

I know.
He just nodded, not wanting to give himself away. And yeah, he felt like a chump. But Jed exuded all this messy happiness, and frankly, just a month ago, Jed was nursing his broken heart right alongside Conner.

Now the man had the woman he always loved in his arms, and Conner...well, like the drone, Liza had simply gone crazy and walked out of his radar.

At least that’s the best he could figure out, given the data.

He tossed too many of his nights away reliving that last sunset with her tucked in his embrace, her back against his chest as he curled her silky, long brown hair between his fingers.

And when they’d kissed, everything seemed to finally click into place.

Until her question—
What happens next
?
—
left him dry-mouthed, forming a catch-up reply.
I can’t make any promises.

Yeah, way to charm her.

“I think Jed’s hoping he can convince her to elope,” Conner said, keeping his voice cool. He even lifted his shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. “No big fuss, you know?”

And that’s exactly what he needed to get through his head. It wasn’t like he’d made Liza any promises, right?

Her leaving shouldn’t cause such a big fuss, then.

Conner put down the binoculars. “Who owns this land?”

“Jim Browning—everyone around here calls him Brownie. Tom was his grandson.”

Oh. Conner’s hands tightened on the glasses. Twenty-six-year-old Tom had died in ’the tragic flashover along with the other smokejumpers, including local legend and Kate’s father, Jock Burns.

Maybe, hopefully, Brownie would be amenable to letting Conner search through the buffalo pies for his lost drone.