Page 32 of Fireline
He pulled her a fraction closer. Lips a breath apart. “You…sure?”
“Hey, Booth! You’ve got—” Sophie stopped dead in her tracks and stared at them. “Oh, um. Sorry.” Flustered, she turned and bolted into the barn.
Great. Booth had been about to kiss her, and blast if she hadn’t been about to let him.
SIX
All at once, Nova stiffened in his arms. He loosened his grip, and she extracted herself from his embrace. Made a beeline for the house, mumbling something about macaroni and cheese.
A gust of wind blew stray locks that she swiped as if swatting insects. She stumbled on a rock, caught herself and muttered again.
Booth pressed his lips tight. He didn’t want to laugh, but he sure was getting a kick out of her fluster.
He was in so much trouble here.
Oh, how badly he wanted a chance. Wanted her. Not just the kiss he was sure they’d been about to have, but waking up beside her smile. Exploring life’s adventures together. Building something lasting from the ashes they’d risen from.
Regret rose under his ribs. The weight of his own past pressed down. That life was nothing but a dream when you had enemies trained to use loved ones as leverage.
Whatever burned between them, he had to let it simmer. Keep things professional. For both their sakes.
The horses whinnied and trotted to one corner of the corral. He followed their gazes to see Sophie standing there.
Booth straightened from the rail he’d slumped against. “You were coming to tell me something?”
Sophie smiled and paused to pet the muzzles tracking her along the fence. “I just wanted to let you know a package came for you. I left it on the porch.”
“Package? That’s some forwarding service. I just got here.”
“Maybe one of the guys brought it from jump base?” She turned her palms up and shrugged.
“Thanks, and if you need any help with the apple crisp leftovers”—he patted his stomach—“I’m your man.”
“You’ll have to fight Houston for it!” she called over her shoulder.
Booth jogged to the porch and found a small box with his name written in block letters. No return address. Inside was an ancient looking phone wrapped in a plastic grocery sack. He turned it on. A red icon on the Messages app indicated one new text.
Must talk. Meet at film set jail. Respond with C to confirm.
Booth stared at the phone.
Respond with C? Was this Crispin’s desperate attempt to meet away from Sophie and the rest of the smokejumper crew? Or was it someone else altogether?
After a few seconds of mental gymnastics, he slipped the phone into his back pocket. He needed to figure out what was going on before he responded. If it was Crispin, this could be a chance for Booth to get his life back.
He saw Houston opening the door to his truck and jogged over. “Hey, you heading into town?”
Houston paused. “Yeah. Need a ride?”
“If you don’t mind. I’m meeting a friend near the movie set. That too far out of your way?”
“Nah, it’s on the way. Hop in.”
“Just a sec.” Booth jogged over to where JoJo was oiling the chain saws before packing them in fire boxes.
“JoJo, I’m running into town with Houston. I should be back before my shift starts.”
JoJo scrunched her face. “Okay, but why are you telling me?”