Page 60 of Some Like It Hot
He grinned. “Of course you are. I’m a hero, after all.”
She laughed. “Whatever.”
Then he kissed her again, because he’d kept his promise.
And he was getting that kiss.
* * *
For the last two days,half of Alaska had invaded Sky King ranch.
Or at least half of their firefighting force, including a hand crew from Anchorage, the Midnight Sun jumpers from Fairbanks, two air tankers, and even Riley’s boss, Jed, who’d left before the fire had started five—only five?—days ago.
How Larke’s life had changed in five days.
Except, she was still serving coffee and had even made cookies for the crew now assembled on the porch, surveying their work.
The fire had stopped at the ridge overlooking the charred remains of her homesteaded cabin, and Riley’s fast thinking had saved the lodge, the hangar, the core of their operation, not to mention the cabins that anchored the glacial lake. Now, a cloudless sky turned it a rich, nearly turquoise blue, a stark contrast to the black that surrounded it to the west.
Larke set a tray of cookies on the railing to the deck. A few grimy smokejumpers from the Midnight Sun team helped themselves.
She saw Skye standing across the yard with the dark-haired FBI agent in a semi-heated discussion, her face animated. Apparently, the agent—Rio—had been undercover, protecting Darryl in prison.
She’d tracked down Alicia at the Copper Mountain Regional Hospital and stopped in yesterday to see her and her baby boy.
“Darryl’s not coming back,” Alicia had said quietly. “But I’m going to be okay. My son and I will be okay.” Yes, she would. Because Alicia was a survivor.
Larke spotted Riley out in the yard talking with Tucker and their boss, Jed, who had returned.
She was about to join them when a hand slid onto her shoulder. “How you doin’, kiddo?”
Her father hadn’t shaved, his whiskers coming in whitened, his face lined with the craggy stress of the past week.
Of seeing his only daughter nearly die.
She hadn’t thought of that—how it felt to send his children, his daughter and sons, to war. Or for them to bring it home in their hearts.
She should write to her brothers, probably. After all, she was the big sister.
“I’m okay, Dad.”
He cast a look out to the blackened skeleton of her house. Shook his head. “All your hard work.”
“It’s just a house.”
He pressed his lips to her head. “I know. But you felt safe there.”
Her gaze went back to Riley. He wore a black T-shirt, his green pants low on his lean hips, firefighting boots, and a baseball cap over that unruly golden brown hair. With his strong back to her, those thick arms crossed over his chest, the memory of his body braced over her, protecting her, stirred inside her.
Oh, she loved him. A fast, bright, hot love that surprised her—but maybe she, like Riley, was built to run into fire. She hadn’t seen that about herself, not until he’d turned to her as they stared at her house and clutched her against his trembling frame and quietly, desperately, yelled at her for leaving him.
Never again.
Still, she did have a habit of running into the flames—in Afghanistan, and even thinking she might bring home the hot firefighter without getting burned.
Although, shehadn’tgotten burned, because Riley turned out to be the guy who wasn’t afraid to follow her into the fire. To protect her from herself.
He still favored his arm—he spent the past two days helping supervise the firefight, calling in water dumps, directing the mop-up.