Playing With Fire: inspirational romantic suspense (Montana Fire Book 2) (9 page)

Romans 8:28.
All things work together for good.

It didn’t feel like it.

Maybe that’s what this trip was about. Finding hope again.

Finding Liza again.

Conner shut the car door, stood in the circular drive, not sure if this was the right place. Her niece on the other end of the phone in Deep Haven had given him the address, reluctantly, he could admit.

Which only confirmed that he should have called. Much earlier.

And, probably, this was a very bad idea. Because friends didn’t just drop off the planet...

Oh, who was he kidding? In his mind, Liza had become much more than a friend. Lifeline. Encourager.

Light.

No wonder his world felt so dark.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, headed for the giant double oak doors, the word
Vitae
etched into them. A sign on the door asked visitors to ring the bell.

He heard it chime inside, waited for footsteps.

Nothing.

And probably he deserved that. The man who’d let something good die didn’t deserve to show up, have her waiting with open arms.

He turned, put his hands on his hips, surveying the rocks, trying to figure out if he should just go in, or maybe wander around—

“Conner?”

He closed his eyes, just for a second, to mask the sudden rush of relief. Took a breath.

Then turned.

She was just as beautiful as he remembered from that moment he met her two years ago, in Deep Haven—more, probably. She wore white—appropriate, perhaps, for the image she’d conjured in his mind over the past year. A flowy dress with a thick waist and an off-the-shoulder neckline, full sleeves, and a long skirt that dropped to just above her ankles. Sandals on her feet, turquoise beads at her neck, and her long, beautiful mane, shiny like chocolate gold in the sunlight.

He found the courage to meet her eyes. As rich as he remembered, espresso, that warm, delicious jolt that went right through him to his bones.

Fortifying. Then she smiled, nothing of reproach or accusation in her expression.

As if she were genuinely, positively, thrilled to see him.

His raw, fraying heart gave a thump of joy in his chest. Wow, he might need to sit down with the way his legs were giving out.

“I can’t believe it. How did you find me?” She walked over to him, and only then did he realize that she was holding a sketch pad and pencils.

His mouth had gone dry, so he swallowed, found his voice. “I called your house and...I’m so sorry, Liza. I know it’s been a while...”

His
a while,
aka a
year
since he’d last talked to her, flickered in her eyes ever so briefly and he braced himself, added, “I missed you.”

And if that didn’t sound pitiful and make him want to run for his car—

But then she loosened the coil in his chest with a shrug. “I figured you were busy. I kept praying for you...”

Oh, how he didn’t deserve that. Deserve her.

“Am I interrupting?”

“Nope. It’s the summer session, and I’m artist in residence right now. No classes.” She took a step toward him. “How’s your grandfather?” She was on the porch, so close he could touch her. Wanted to, especially when he smelled something sweet and floral lifting off her skin.

Needed, really, to feel her arms around him.

“He passed away.” About six months ago, but he didn’t add that.

More shame, and not a little self-pity, because maybe he could have appreciated her being at the funeral. Or even just in his life as he’d packed up and sold the ranch he’d grown up on. Or even since then, caught in the middle of a brutal fire season.

“Oh, Conner, I’m so sorry.” She lifted her hand to reach out to him, then let it fall, as if she didn’t want to assume.

Assume. Please.

“Thanks. I should have called you.”

“No. You were busy, and I know what he meant to you.”

And he had to look away, because, yeah, she did.
Get a hold of yourself.
He hadn’t come here for pity.

“So, I was in the area...”

Lie.
But if he told her he’d hopped a plane as soon as Raina gave him the information, that would sound
way
too needy.

And, he might have his heart on his sleeve, but Liza had never offered, or even hinted, at anything more than friendship.

So... “And I was thinking about that time you said you wondered what it was like to be a smokejumper. So I thought it would be fun to go skydiving.”

She raised an eyebrow.

She had said that, right? Because he knew that he did most of the talking—oh no. What if it was just one of her comments, the kind she didn’t mean. Like her comment last summer about him visiting her in Deep Haven.

He’d nearly said yes before his common sense kicked in. Right. The last thing she needed was a guy in her life living moment by moment, not sure what his future would be. Afraid to take a look at it, frankly.

“I mean, I thought—”

“Yes.” She smiled at him then, a spark of what he’d seen when he’d first met her. Adventure, warmth.

And he might have missed it before, but her smile also contained a sense of anticipation.

“I’d love to go skydiving with you.”

It all broke free then, that darkness that had suffocated him, and in its place, light.

Liza.

“When?”

“Right now, bay-bee.” And yeah, he added flirt to his tone. Because he wasn’t here just to see his
friend.

He fully intended on seeing if Liza wanted more, just as much as he did.

#

She didn’t want to call it a date—but that’s exactly what it felt like. Driving ninety miles to the Grand Canyon, stopping at an airstrip. Meeting Conner’s friend Gilly, who apparently was waiting for him—
them
.

As if he’d prearranged his so-called in the neighborhood, whimsical, let’s-go-skydiving-or-whatever outing.

It only got more confusing as he gave her a short lesson on what to expect. Then he plopped a helmet on her head, they’d climbed into the belly of Gilly’s little red-and-white airplane. He’d strapped on parachute pack, then attached her to him by her tandem harness.

They took off, and Liza felt pretty sure she’d lost her brains.

They’d definitely dislodged an hour ago when she’d spied a man standing on the stoop of Vitae’s front entry. It took her a full five seconds for her brain to recognize him.

Conner?

Lean and wide-shouldered, he wore a navy T-shirt and cargo shorts, hiking sandals, his blond hair short and tousled by the wind.

For a second, her heart had hiccupped. But no, it couldn’t be.

And then he’d turned to stare at the vista, his hands on his hips, and she knew she’d seen that pose before.

On a beach in Minnesota as he considered the sunrise.

It took her a heartbeat for the realization to emerge. After a year of silence, their last conversation just before she left for Arizona, when she felt sure that their friendship had simply run its course, Conner Young had tracked her down.

She’d probably fallen painfully, irrevocably in love with him somewhere between “
I missed you
” and “
I was thinking about that time
...”

Oh, who was she kidding. It was
long
before that.

But the idea that he thought about her enough to miss her…

She didn’t want to consider further than that, or the fact that he’d actually
not
been in the area but had flown down with Gilly from
Montana
...

No. Not for her.

Because that would mean, to use Raina’s words, that he was
into
her, too.

Liza should simply hold on and have fun with her adventurous, hot, brave, muscled
just
friend
. With beautiful blue eyes and a smile that, when he directed it her way, made her feel beautiful.

Oh, she was so playing with fire to have agreed to be locked in his arms, even if it was to jump from a plane, her life in his hands.

This was really going to hurt.

#

“You’re still flying, aren’t you?” Conner said a couple of hours later as he came to the car carrying two coffees. He handed her one. “That happens after a jump—you sort of relive it over and over, experiencing those endorphins.”

Oh, those were the source of her endorphins? She wanted to attribute it to the sense of his arms around her, his voice in her ear as they’d drifted down like a cloud, locked together.

“Yeah,” she said, sipping the coffee, thankful for the bracing effect that might put her feet back on the ground. “Except I’ll bet it doesn’t feel like that when you’re jumping into a fire.”

He put on his sunglasses, aviators. “No. You’re just hoping you don’t get blown into the flames, or caught on a tree, or land in a river, or even twist your ankle on the landing. Because then that means you’ve put your entire team at risk. Someone might have to hike out with you, and for sure, you don’t do your job as well.”

He put his coffee in the holder, pulled out of the lot.

They stopped in Oak Creek Canyon on the way back, and he found an ice-cream stand, treated her to a double-chocolate mint.

Now, with the afternoon late, the sun heavy on the horizon, she could admit she didn’t want their ‘date’ to end. She couldn’t remember having so much fun. Laughing at Conner’s stories about mishaps on the fire line, the rookie hotshots. “I still can’t believe that Tucker Newman joined the team.”

“He’s working for Jed on the hotshot crew. He has the look of a smokejumper in his eyes. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried out for the team next year.”

“Clearly you made an impact on him.”

She looked away before he could see it her eyes—that he’d made an impact on her, too.

“That summer in Deep Haven was...it was impactful for everyone,” he said cryptically.

Then, just as she hoped he might elaborate, he fell silent as they closed in on Sedona. He said nothing even as they pulled up to Vitae. He put the car in park, and she didn’t know what to say.

Thank you for finding me? For giving me an amazing day?

For being my friend.

Except, that’s not what she wanted—not at all. But she had a code, one that said she wasn’t going to read more than there was into a relationship.

She reached for the handle.

His hand on her arm stopped her. “Liza—uh. I have a question.”

She looked at him, his sunglasses obscuring his eyes.

“I don’t want—I mean.” He blew out a breath. “I was going to hike Doe Mountain, catch the sunset. And I was wondering if you would...will you come with me?”

She didn’t want to sound too eager, but um,
yes
. “Sure.”

“Okay. Good. Do you want to grab a sweater or something? It can get cold.”

She felt pretty sure that with Conner around she might never be cold again. But she ducked inside anyway, changed into jeans and grabbed a sweatshirt. He’d zipped the legs back onto his convertible shorts by the time she returned.

Conner grinned at her as she got back into the car, as if he’d been reluctant to say good-bye, too. But that’s what friends did—spent time together. Enjoyed each other’s company.

Liza had always wanted to hike Doe Mountain. The low, flat-topped mesa was famous for its panoramic views of Bear Mountain, the Verde Valley, and of course Chimney Rock.

They parked in the lot, and to her surprise, Conner pulled a backpack out of the trunk. As if yes, he’d intended to hike the mountain, with or without her.

So maybe it wasn’t a date—she was simply a tag-along.

She tried not to let it deflate her as they hiked up the switchbacks.

Friends, enjoying the day together. Because he was in the
area.

Wow, had she overread that.

Still, as they ascended, as the sun began to settle below the far horizon, gilding the tufted clouds overhead with fire—threads of gold, umber, and crimson lighting the red rock ablaze—her disappointment slid away. Standing at the top, the canyon vast and redolent with the smells of the desert—sage, sand, and lime—was a little like flying again.

Not quite. But enough.

And then he took her off the path, walking along the edge of the cliff, along the top.

“Where are we going?”

“To find the best view.” Conner reached out his hand.

Huh. She took it, letting his grip enfold her as he picked their way over the reddened clay, around sagebrush, low juniper.