Firestorm (4 page)

“Wait ’til Samuel starts teething on your coffee tables,” Beth groused, taking a sip of coffee and placing her mug on Reyne’s own low table.

“Little Hope was just giving your furniture some help,” Reyne defended lightly, nodding toward the screen. “Look at that. You see? The distressed look is in.”

“Yeah, right. I don’t think rows of tiny teeth marks are exactly what the decorators have in mind. It’s been over a year, and I still haven’t refinished ’em.” Beth shook her head as Reyne offered her a muffin.

“Come on, Beth,” Reyne began gently. “Have you eaten today?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Beth,” Rachel began, ganging up on her with Reyne. Since her diagnosis of breast cancer and her radical mastectomy the year before, Beth had continued to drop weight. “You don’t need to lose any more ground.”

“All right, all right,” she said, giving in. “Let’s not ruin the moment with lectures.” She took a tiny bite of a poppy-seed muffin.

Reyne laughed as she watched Rachel give Beth a you-can’t-fool-me-with-that-measly-effort look. “Boy, you have it tough, don’t you, Beth? I’d hate to be in your shoes, looking at that accusatory face.”

Beth smiled, and Rachel’s face softened. It had been a hard year. Over the last months, Rachel and Reyne had helped the Morgans out a lot by baby-sitting their three-year-old daughter, Hope, or taking Beth in to the hospital for her checkups. But Beth was not faring well. Her cheeks, once rosy and dimpled, were drawn and sallow. Her clothes hung from her body, and even her short brown curls seemed listless.

Beth had been the first to reach out to Reyne at the tiny Elk
Horn Community Church three years ago. It hadn’t been long before Reyne decided that she wanted to settle in the village permanently, not just when she was stationed there on occasion to fight fires. Reyne had wanted a home, but not on the outskirts of a bigger city like Missoula. She wanted a home in a place where people knew her on the streets, welcomed her into
their
homes. And from her brief visits to the small mountain town, she knew Elk Horn was that kind of place.

Beth was a living example of small-town hospitality, even though she was a transplanted Californian. She had welcomed Reyne at the Dub M for dinner, introduced her to her own friends—including Rachel and Dirk Tanner—made her feel like family. The high point had come when she and her husband, Matt, had offered Reyne purchase rights on a choice piece of property at the southeastern corner of their ranch. The only stipulations had been that she let cattle graze up to the fence that surrounded her acre and that they be given first option if she ever decided to sell.

The house, a dream come true, was built within six months.
This is home
, Reyne thought happily, gazing at her friends as they chatted.
I am so happy here
.

A high-pitched whirring distracted her from her reverie. She rose, looking out across town to the airstrip. “That’s odd,” she mumbled.

“What?” Rachel asked, rising beside her.

“That small plane. Taking off. I didn’t think there were any exercises scheduled this weekend.”

“Well, it’s the first clear day we’ve had in weeks. Maybe it’s a visitor. Or those new smokejumpers—”

“No,” Reyne interrupted softly. “Nobody’s at the airstrip yet. Very strange,” she said, shrugging and turning her back to the
window. “But I am
not
working today, so I won’t worry about it.”

“Still struggling with the working-from-home-so-I-never-get-away-from-it syndrome?” Rachel asked her.

“You of all people should understand.”

“I do,” Rachel returned, who had done advertising work from her home since leaving San Francisco to marry Dirk. “You have to get hard-core. Set your hours. Don’t answer the phone unless it’s during those hours. Leave your paperwork at your desk. Never let it get to the dining room.
Or
your bed. Let everyone know your rules. And don’t let anyone break them.”

Reyne nodded in agreement, then cocked her head as the Cessna sang overhead.
They never fly flight patterns in this direction
. She stood and walked to the front porch, watching in amazement as a technicolor parachute opened up high above, then slowly angled down toward the cottage.

Beth and Rachel joined her on the porch, watching the artful descent. The man landed not fifteen feet from Reyne’s house. “You’ve gotta be kidding,” she mumbled. “You! What are
you
doing here?” she asked him, fighting to keep her voice calm.

“So what do you think?” Beth said to Rachel impishly. “Should she run inside and shut the door in his face? ’Cause he’s definitely not dropping in during business hours.”

“No,” Reyne heard Rachel say quietly. “He’s too cute to turn away—and there’s no wedding ring in sight. As I was saying, you have to bend the rules once in a while. Besides, he’s obviously skydiving, not smokejumping. So technically, it’s
not
work.” She ignored Reyne’s tight-lipped grimace and stepped off the porch, reaching out her hand. “Hi, I’m Rachel Tanner. Reyne didn’t tell us she was expecting company.”

The handsome, tall man stopped unclipping gear and flashed her a brilliant smile. “Logan McCabe,” he said. “I’m pleased to meet you. I’ve just been detailed to Elk Horn to head up the timber company’s private firefighting force as a backup for Missoula. And when I have some extra time, I’m supposed to work closely with this woman on a research project.” He nodded at Reyne, ignoring her sputter and look of confusion.

Beth made her way around Reyne and went to meet the man too. Reyne looked at them both with disbelief, feeling betrayed. Then she caught herself. They had no idea what Logan had done. They only saw him as a handsome, apparently eligible guy dropping in on her—literally—during a glorious spring day. It
was
kind of romantic when she thought about it.
Wait a minute, did I just call him handsome? And think this might be romantic? Reyne, get a grip
.

She glared at Logan, who was charming her friends with another lame joke. Yes, she had to admit it. He
was
handsome, with tightly cropped, dark brown hair that waved close to his head. Dazzling blue eyes, she noted as he looked toward her, eyes the color of a Montana sky on a hot day. He was striking, strong …

Not that it was going to get him an inch farther with her. Reyne had worked with dozens of handsome, adventurous men in her years fighting fire. And this particular man had almost certainly cost her the research and development money she had worked for months to get.

She resolutely stepped from the porch and walked to him.

“What are you doing here, McCabe?” she asked bluntly.

R
eyne, apparently we got off on the wrong foot,” Logan said. “I need to apologize for interrupting your presentation last week.”

He looked down at the woman before him, who was beautiful. Shining pale hair that spilled over her shoulders in waves. Blue eyes that smoked with anger. She couldn’t possibly be as angry as she seemed. But even if she was, Logan wasn’t worried. He gave her his most winsome smile.

“Fine,” Reyne said, hands on her hips. “I’m waiting.”

Beth and Rachel gave their friend puzzled, surprised looks but said nothing.

“I … I’m sorry,” Logan faltered, unaccustomed to facing someone he couldn’t readily soften up. “I was a dope. It’s my immediate response to a new situation. Tell a joke. Warm up the crowd, you know.” He grinned at Beth and Rachel, seeking support. They smiled in response. Reyne did not.

“That was an important meeting for me, McCabe,” she said, looking at him without blinking. “I really need that funding for my pocket weather-kit project.”

Logan nodded at her, sobering. “They can be tough, those guys. I’m sorry. What else can I say?”

Reyne turned and walked back to the cottage. “Not much, I guess,” she said over her shoulder. “Come on, you guys,” she said to
her friends. “Coffee’s getting cold. I assume my unexpected guest arranged for a lift home.”

Logan stood there for a moment, then turned to gather his parachute. “I guess you don’t want to talk until Monday,” he said, just loud enough for her to hear as she opened the porch door.

“About what?” she asked impatiently.

“About our project.”

“
Our what
?”

“Our project. I received word on Friday. I’ve been reassigned to Elk Horn to work with you until I start training the timber company’s crew.”

Reyne walked down the steps again, her gait measured, obviously pondering his words. “Are you saying that you got the funding for your project? And I’m to assist
you
?”

Logan met her gaze with a grin. “Yes! Isn’t it great? They’re such tightwads; it’s amazing I got anything. But they stipulated I have to work with you on it. Apparently, you’re the expert on things …”

He frowned as Reyne abruptly turned and walked away toward an outbuilding that matched her cottage. He tore his eyes away from her long legs in slim jeans and rushed to catch up with her.

She threw open the door, obviously furious. With one flip of a switch, counters full of computer equipment came to life. He looked at it all in amazement and then at his companion as she whirled to face him again. “Do you see this? I’ve invested thousands. And I’ve been waiting two years for the go-ahead on my project. Two years! And then you come along and—”

Logan’s brow furrowed in concern, understanding dawning. “You’re saying that you think they gave me the grant
instead
of giving one to you?”

“You’re the one who got a call Friday, big boy. My consolation call is probably coming Monday. I can just hear them. ‘Reyne, I’m sorry. Maybe next year on that computer project. But we’ve got another job for you …’ ” She shook, she was so angry, then turned from Logan, busying herself with a computer keyboard as if fighting tears.

Good grief
, he thought.
Tears?
“There’s always next year,” he tried.

She whirled back to him, blond hair flying. His fears were confirmed. Her blue eyes had deepened to an even darker shade as they filled with tears. An impossible blue, he noted, the color of a spring sky heavy with impending rain. “You don’t understand!” Reyne said, her voice tight. “My project could save lives!”

Logan took a step toward her, confused. He reached out to grasp her upper arms gently, looked down toward eyes that refused to meet his, and said, “I’m hoping my project will too.”

“Don’t touch me,” she mumbled, shaking off his hands and stalking over to a drawing table. She leaned over it, her arms on the table supporting her in A-frame fashion. He couldn’t see her face.

“Don’t you even want to hear more about it?” he tried. She turned toward him as he spoke.

“No! I tell you, if I could just get some funding, my project could save lives! I’m sure of it. I’ve worked out enough to know that if firefighters had this on the front lines … if they were caught in a firestorm …” She faltered, her eyes distant.

“Like Oxbow?” he asked quietly, his head ducked in what he hoped was an understanding, welcoming look. It had worked on countless women before.

He had obviously caught her by surprise. “Oxbow?” she blurted. “What do you know of it?” Her voice gained altitude with each word, he noticed.
She’s close to breaking
.

“Enough to know you
did
save lives,” he said, hoping to ease the situation. Bring her tone down to one of reason.

“Or lost them,” Reyne said bitterly, turning toward a window. “Depends on who you talk to.”

Logan wanted to go to her, comfort her. He knew the pain of losing team members on the field, of turning a charred body over and not being able to recognize a dear friend. “I haven’t met anybody who says you were to blame.” He moved toward her, intending to give her a gentle pat on the back, but she turned to face him, apparently pulling herself together.

“That’s our team,” she said, her chin held high and a false smile on her face. “Our happy family. Never say a word against another firefighter until you’ve fought a mile of fire in her boots.”

“Reyne, really,” he tried again. He grimaced at the trace of bitterness, the anger, the sadness in her voice. But she was so graceful, even in the midst of turmoil. She held herself regally. Thin and lanky with that shiny, champagne hair and those deep blue eyes. Lips that curved up charmingly in the corners, making her look as if she were always smiling, even when she obviously was not.

Logan swallowed hard, pushing back the crazy attraction he felt toward her. He hadn’t noticed her looks this much at the meeting.
But her hair had been pulled back. And she was in uniform. Not a soft sweater and jeans
. He swallowed hard again, forcing himself to concentrate. “Oxbow was a fire that legends are made of. Nobody could’ve guessed that he was gonna hook.”
And I would never have guessed that you were the lady in charge
.

He had heard Reyne’s story while he was stationed in California. The day they buried those firefighters, his team had taken the day off to mourn and pray for the future safety of all firefighters. But he
hadn’t remembered the crew boss’s name … nor had he expected to meet her in Montana.

“Yeah, well someday I’ll have to tell you more. Those four dead kids were my responsibility. And I’m going to find ways to keep it from happening again.” Her tears were gone. She stared at him in open challenge.

Logan hardened his gaze. “Oh no. I can see where you’re heading. And you’re not getting my grant money. You help me on my project as directed, and maybe we can look at yours after. Maybe we can find some cost-saving measures that will justify your project, too. But I can be as tough as you, Reyne Oldre. And I wanted the funding for good reason. Why don’t you come down to the airstrip and see?”

Her eyes fell as she looked away to the window, thinking. She sighed heavily. “Look, I’ve got company. I need to get back to them. I’ll look you up on Monday morning, and we can talk about your project. I should be over my disappointment by then.” She strode to the door, decision obviously made, seemingly not caring if he left her studio or not.