Flaming Desire - Part 4 (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) (3 page)

I was infuriated. How dare he blame me for something that no one had any control over? I turned away, blinking back tears. “I need to get back to my position,” I snapped. As I brushed past him, I held my chin high and tried to hide my sense of hurt.

“Jesse—”

He reached for me, but I sidestepped his hand. I spied my fire ax lying in the dirt several yards away. I stooped down to pick it up, my muscles screaming in protest. My heart thudded, not just from physical exertion, but from the pain of his accusation. I knew he had blurted out the words because he was scared and worried for his friend, but like the words I had blurted to him the evening before, he couldn’t take them back.

“I’m sorry, Jesse,” he said as I stomped away.

“I am too, Matt,” I muttered. “I am too.”

Another day passed. A another day of inhaling smoke and ash, digging, pulling, and yanking at underbrush, sometimes even helping chop down a tree or two.

Matt seemed to be avoiding me and I wasn’t quite sure what I thought about that, but maybe it was for the best. His reaction to Sam’s accident made me realize how traumatized he still was by his past. Then again, wasn’t I?

Sam had been airlifted to a hospital in Boise. She’d broken several ribs and her collarbone, but should be okay. I knew that she was likely disappointed that she wouldn’t be returning to the fire line, just as I know I would have been, but we all knew that injury was a chance we took. Burns, broken bones, falls, and collapsing debris and trees were a risk that each of us had to take on a daily basis.

Sometimes I wished I had eyes in the back of my head so I could watch out for all the dangers that might befall me. I had, over time, developed a heightened sense of watchfulness when I was on the fire line. Some might call me jumpy, but it was that hyper alertness that I relied on to keep me safe from rolling boulders, falling branches, and, God willing, from sliding down a steep slope on slippery shale like Sam had.

I tried a couple of times to talk to Matt about what happened, but though he apologized, I wasn’t quite sure what he apologized for. I knew he was frustrated with me, but until we had a chance to talk in private, I doubted that I would be able to obtain a decent explanation from him.

I wanted to talk to Matt about our relationship, or even if it was a relationship. Had everything we experienced up until now just been about sex? Nothing more? If that was the case, I wanted to know. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to continue a relationship if it was nothing more than sexual release for Matt.

I wanted more than that, and if not with Matt, then perhaps someday with someone else. I wasn’t in the habit of just sleeping with men for the sake of sex. Of course, sex with Matt was incredible. Just thinking about it made me tingle and wish that he would climb into my sleeping bag again, but in the past couple of days, he had kept his distance.

In the meantime, the fire was on the move. As Sam had feared, the wind had changed direction. Matt and I had been on the line on the south side of the mountain when we’d received orders to retreat and regroup down at the base camp. On the way down in the crew truck, I was startled to realize that the fire had finally topped the ridge. My heart sank.

All that work and effort that we had taken during the past couple of days proved fruitless. The wind was gusting at twenty to twenty-five miles an hour, sometimes up to forty, and the fire lines that we had constructed were no match for wind speeds like that. Once the fire had topped the ridge, if could spill over, consuming everything in its path.

I watched with disheartened dismay as the flames licked at and then consumed acres of drought-ridden pine needles, and sometimes the fire got so close I could hear the pop and sizzle of pine sap as we made our way slowly down the mountain. At one point, both sides of the dirt road we traversed downward were ablaze. We closed the windows to the crew truck, but that did little to keep out the dust, smoke, and the heat of the flames arcing over the road. I had never seen anything like it. It was like venturing through a tunnel of fire. I was afraid if the driver didn’t step on the gas, the tires would start melting.

Finally, minute by minute, we put some distance between the flames and us. By the time we reached the base camp, it was abuzz with activity. Half of the tents were already down and being loaded onto trucks. Hundreds of men gathered in small groups, most with their designated departments. The National Park Service personnel was where the kitchen trailer used to stand. Groups of Hotshots milled around in different colored T-shirts and jackets where the first aid tent and sleeping tents had been. Further over were groups from the Bureau of Land Management and Forestry Service personnel.

The command post trailer was still parked, although the maps, charts and lists had been pulled from the outside walls of the trailer. Semis were arriving to hook up the trailers to relocate. I had no idea where we were relocating, or how fast the fire was spreading, although it seemed as if the wildfire was resisting the efforts of hundreds of us in halting its progression.

When a hand grasped my arm, I startled until I realized it was Matt. I gazed up at him, my eyebrow raised in question.

“Come with me,” he said, his voice low and serious. “Our group is relocating toward the northwest edge of the fire line on the other side of the ridge.”

I didn’t say anything, but quickly followed him as he made his way through the throngs of firefighters and Hotshot crews toward one of the transport trucks waiting with the others. We climbed aboard and took a seat near the back. The vehicle was still fairly empty, but I wasn’t surprised. It would take a while for everyone to be appraised of new location assignments, pointed toward the correct transportation vehicle, and so forth. I wondered if I should take the opportunity to talk to Matt while we waited.

“Have you heard anything more about Sam?” I said, thinking to open the conversation with that.

He shrugged. “Not since the update yesterday. Why?”

I looked up at him in surprise. “Why? Because I care,” I said, shaking my head. We sat way in the back, and I thought if I talked low enough, only he would hear me. Other firefighters wearily climbed onto the truck, took their seats, most of them near the front.

“Matt, can we talk a minute?”

He glanced down at me, a blank expression on his face. “About what?”

“About what happened yesterday with Sam… with us.”

“I already apologized for the thing with Sam yesterday,” he replied quietly. “I realize that it wasn’t your fault and there was nothing you could have done to prevent her from slipping. I just let my mouth get away with me.”

“I know, Matt, but I wanted to talk to you about your reaction to—” I was watching him closely and saw him frown. He gazed out the window and then glanced at me. I continued. “Your reaction to her accident.”

“What about it?” he asked, his eyes now watching as the other members of the Hotshot crew climbed into the truck. He nodded in greeting to some of them.

“I realize that we both have history, and more than enough baggage to—”

“I don’t want to talk about this now, Jesse,” he said. “Right now let’s just focus on fighting this fire, okay?”

I realized I wasn’t going to get him to open up here, on the crew truck, with more Hotshots climbing on every moment. I finally nodded. “Maybe tonight, or the next time we have some time alone together, we can talk about a few things, okay?”

He nodded and then turned to look out the window. I wondered how much of his current attitude and hesitance to talk to me had to do with my abrupt sharing of my feelings the other day. Once again, I shook my head, disbelieving that I had even said them. It was also extremely disappointing that those three little words could have such an impact on what I thought was our growing relationship.

I didn’t have too much time to feel sorry for myself, because the truck was soon packed full of Hotshots and we were driving out of the base camp, following several other trucks with more behind us. The trucks raised a cloud of dust that vied with the smoke whirling upward from the fire that had topped the ridge line. A sense of urgency swept through me, so much so that I felt it deep in my bones.

I wondered how many firefighters were on the scene now and imagined it must be close to a thousand. I wasn’t sure how much acreage was involved at this point, but I knew that with every hour, probably dozens more acres of ground were being consumed, thanks to the winds that had kicked up.

The aircraft dropping their buckets of water and fire suppressing chemicals did their best to hold the fire at bay. Along with the hundreds of firefighters on the ground, it seemed as if we should have been able to make a dent in the fire so far, but from what I’d seen, we had yet to even reach ten percent containment.

How long would we be out here? How long would I be able to withstand the intense physical demands? The longest I had ever been on a fire line was about five days, but I had a feeling I wouldn’t be going home anytime soon. And when I did? What then? Would Matt be going with me? Or had those three little words caused him to have second thoughts about returning to Santa Fe General?

With those and other worries on my mind, I stared out the window past Matt’s shoulder, wishing that I could just learn to keep my mouth shut. If I hadn’t said
I love you
to Matt, I had a feeling that everything between us would be just fine. None of this awkwardness. None of this hesitance to even look at each other. My heart felt heavy, and for the first time ever on the fire line, my thoughts were not consumed with putting out the flames of a fire, but putting out the flames of desire for Matt that ripped deep into my heart.

*

As it turned out, it was two days before Matt and I were to find ourselves temporarily alone. A new base camp had been set up, much in the same formation as the last one. We were situated on the northwest side of the mountain range now. From my current vantage point, I stood near the ridge of a mountain looking out over the range toward the east, appalled by the size of the fire.

To me, it looked like the entire world was aflame. In some places, smoke roiled so thickly you couldn’t see the flames. In others, it looked like the flames shot twenty to thirty feet high. Hot, orange flame that made my skin tingle just to think of the heat. Smoke and ash carried for miles, and I knew that the wind would carry that smoke and ash hundreds if not thousands of miles before it dissipated. The smell of wood smoke was firmly embedded in my nostrils, my lungs, and my hair, skin, and clothes. I was continually assailed with the stinging, eye-watering smoke that made my throat feel so raw.

Once again, I slept in a tent with about twenty other firefighters, and once again, Matt and I had to sleep on the ground in our sleeping bags. I didn’t care. I was too tired to care. As before, we chose the back portion of the tent to spread our sleeping bags. Since I had uttered those fateful words, Matt had not climbed into my sleeping bag. In a way, I felt betrayed, but then again, I still didn’t even know exactly what we were doing or where we were heading in regard to a relationship. It was something we needed to talk about, and as tired as I was tonight, I decided that I wanted to have a word with Matt after dinner, but before we hit the sack.

I found him in the line of men standing in front of the kitchen trailer. He saw me, gestured, and I joined him. He handed me a tray, and together we silently approached the steps leading up into the trailer. “Matt, can I talk to you for a few minutes after we eat?”

For a second I thought he was going to say no, but then he simply nodded. We moved through the trailer quickly. Some kind of noodle and ground beef mixture, similar to Hamburger Helper, but I didn’t care. I was so hungry I would eat just about anything. My stomach grumbled loudly as we carried our trays to the dining tent, found a spot at one of the tables, and quietly and quickly ate. The tent was relatively calm. The longer we were on the fire line, the less the men and women fighting the fire engaged in idle conversation. After four or five days of fighting a fire like this one, it took an effort just to find the energy to eat, let alone carry on a conversation.

Matt finished cleaning his plate just moments before me, and then he stood. I glanced up at him, hoping he hadn’t forgotten his promise to give me some time. He held out his hand.

“Give me your tray. We can talk behind the mess tent.”

I nodded and gave him my tray, and then exited the tent. We couldn’t linger at the table, as others were waiting to find a spot to eat. I slowly walked around the mess tent, my heart beginning to trip hammer with nervous agitation. What if he didn’t want to listen to what I had to say? What if he told me something I didn’t want to hear?

I heard footsteps and turned to find Matt approaching. I noted the wary expression on his face, but also determination. I wasn’t quite sure what to think about that. He grabbed my hand and led me into the woods behind the mess tent. That was fine with me; the more privacy for what I had to say, the better.

Finally, he paused. I sat down on a large rock while he leaned against the rough bark of a pine tree. He waited, and I supposed that I just had to spit it out. I took a deep breath. “Matt, what’s going on?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I’m going to be blunt. Are we in a relationship or what?” He said nothing. “Do we even have a relationship, Matt? And if we do, where is it going?” Matt shifted uncomfortably, gazed down at his feet, and then back at me. My heart sank.

“I told you, Jesse, no strings, at least for now.”

My heart thudded so hard in my chest I thought for sure it was going to burst past my ribcage. “Too late for that,” I muttered. “Matt, I want you to know how much you mean to me, and the reason that I blurted those words—”

“I’d rather not talk about that now,” he interrupted.

I frowned. “Matt, you would know as well as I do that sometimes, things happen unexpectedly. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to… I don’t want regrets. I know I shouldn’t have blurted my feelings to you, but when I saw you standing there with your head bleeding and your clothes on fire, I realized that—”

“Don’t say it again, Jesse, please,” he interrupted again, his voice soft and low.