On A Night Like This (The Callaways) (8 page)

As Aiden lifted the wine bottle to his lips, she couldn't help wondering what his relationship status was. She'd thought about him often over the years, usually whenever she saw a fire truck racing down the street.

Aiden handed her back the bottle. She took a drink, and then impulsively asked. "So, is there a woman in your life, Aiden?"

"No," he said, motioning for her to hand back the bottle.

As she did so, she said, "Does no mean not now or never?"

"I wouldn't say never," he said, taking a drink.

"Why are you being so cryptic?"

"Why are you being so curious?" he countered, meeting her gaze.

"Because I'm always curious. It's who I am. It's what I do. I ask questions and investigate. I solve problems."

"That's very impressive. I don't have any problems."

"Really? A fellow firefighter punched you in the face and a few hours later you're in a heated argument with your father and brother. Sounds like a few problems to me."

His lips tightened. "Well, those problems have nothing to do with a woman. I'm single and that's the way I like it. What about you?"

She reached for the bottle, stalling for a second. She wished she had a better answer, because it would have been so much more gratifying to tell Aiden she was madly in love with someone, and he'd missed his chance with her. Not that he had a chance now even though she was single.

"Sara?" he prodded.

"I'm single at the moment. I've been busy working, building my career. There hasn't been much time for romance. Practically speaking I'm probably just too analytical for love."

He gave her a thoughtful look. "Love isn't practical, and most relationships don't hold up well to analysis."

"Yeah, I've noticed that."

"You don't still make up those pro/con lists, do you?"

She frowned. "I can't believe you remember that."

"How could I forget? You were always weighing your options. You were afraid to take a step without a ten-point plan."

"You make me sound dull and cowardly."

"More like smart and quirky," he said with a grin.

"Great. Just the way every woman wants to be described," she said dryly.

"Interesting is a better word. How's that?"

"Not much better. Everyone knows interesting is just a nice way of saying someone is a little odd."

He smiled. "I can't win, can I?"

"Probably not." She paused. "I had to be careful when I was growing up, Aiden. I couldn't afford mistakes. My father demanded perfection. Anything less was unacceptable. I'd get grounded for bringing home a B. My father took away my license for six months after I missed curfew."

He raised an eyebrow. "When did you miss curfew?"

"You know when," she said pointedly.

"Ah, another mark against me."

"Not against you. It was my mistake."

"Look, Sara, no one is perfect. You have to accept that."

"It's easier when I'm not faced with my father's disappointment. I shouldn't have come home."

"You had to because you're an optimist."

"I don't think I am," she said slowly.

"Of course you are. You still have hope that you and your dad will become a loving family after reviewing all evidence to the contrary. What's that if not optimism?"

"Stupidity," she suggested, then took another swig of the wine.

"Hey, don't drink it all," Aiden protested.

She handed over the bottle, wiping her mouth with the edge of her sleeve. "What do you think of the wine?"

"It's very good."

"I think so, too. I wonder if my dad will notice that it's gone."

"It might be good if he did. Make it would wake him up to the fact that things and people you ignore eventually disappear."

"He'd love for me to disappear. Until this weekend, I'd pretty much done just that. I hadn't seen my dad in five years, not since my grandmother's funeral. I should have left things the way they were."

"Your father will recover. The house will be redone. It will work out, Sara."

She smiled. "Maybe you're the optimist, not me."

He grinned. "I just know you. When you set your mind to something, you succeed."

"Do you really think you know me after all the years we've been apart?"

"People don't change that much."

She pointed to the bottle. "Now who's the hog?"

He passed it to her. "Sorry."

"This is weird, isn't it?" she asked. "The two of us in my backyard after so many years. I feel young and old at the same time."

"I know what you mean. Being in my old room feels strange and yet oddly reassuring."

"My old room just feels strange. There's no trace of me left in the house, and very little left of my mom. It's as if we were never here." She took a moment and then added. "I never understood what my mom saw in my dad, how they ever came to fall in love, and why they stayed together. I rarely saw any love between them."

"Did you ever ask?"

"Yes, but my mom always told me that there were things about my father I didn't understand. She used to tell me that his love ran deep. Too deep for me to find apparently," she added with a sigh.

"When I looked out my window earlier tonight, I remembered you and your mom working in this garden."

"Digging in the dirt," she said with a nod. "We couldn't touch the house. My dad hated any kind of clutter or sentimental nonsense as he referred to knick knacks, but he left the garden to us, mainly because he never came out here." She paused, thinking about what Aiden had said. "You used to watch us from your window?"

"Well, not like a stalker," he said with a wry smile. "Occasionally, I'd glance out."

"I used to watch you and your brothers and sisters, too. Your backyard had so much action, especially after you and your dad built that fort. I thought that was the coolest thing ever."

"It was," he agreed. "One of my best accomplishments."

"I saw that it's still there."

"Yes, waiting for the next generation of Callaways, although not too many of us seem in a hurry to marry or reproduce. Nicole is the only one who made it down the altar."

"Emma told me that Nicole's son Brandon is autistic," she said, handing back the wine.

"Yeah, it's sad. When Brandon was a baby, he was totally normal. He'd laugh and make eye contact, and I used to carry him around on my shoulders. Now Brandon acts like he never met me. To be fair, I haven't been around much the past year. It's no wonder he's forgotten who I am."

"Emma said you live up in Redding."

"Yes, I've been there the last three years."

"But you don't fight fires all year long, do you?"

"No, we take care of the forests in other ways during the off season. I also do carpentry for a local cabinet maker."

She wasn't surprised that his off-season job had to do with building. Aiden had always liked working with his hands. She shivered, unable to believe she could still remember his hands running down her arms, his fingers grazing her breasts. God! How crazy was that. She'd had other men touch her since then, so why did she still remember him?

She took another sip of wine. "So when are you going back?" she asked.

"Not sure yet."

"But you are going back, aren't you?"

Doubt filled his eyes. "I don't know. My plans are up in the air."

"What would you do if you weren't a smokejumper?"

"Too many questions, Sara," he said, taking the wine bottle from her hands.

"You always wanted to be a firefighter," she said, watching him take a drink. "Following in the family tradition."

"Not really. Smokejumpers don't protect people, just trees, property, land. It's a step down, according to the men in my family."

"I'm sure they don't believe that."

He shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

She suspected it did matter, but he'd never admit it.

"Anyway, I can't jump fires forever," he said. "I'm getting old."

"Thirty-two isn't old. Is your uncertainty because of what happened to Kyle?"

"Partly." He set down the empty bottle. "We took care of that."

"We certainly did," she said, feeling warm and a little dizzy. "Maybe we'll both be able to sleep now."

"I haven't slept in three weeks. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever sleep again. Every time I close my eyes, I'm back in the fire."

"What happened, Aiden?"

"I can't say."

"You mean, you won't say," she corrected.

He shook his head. "No, I can't remember. I fell down a mountain. When I woke up I'd lost several hours of time."

"Does your family know that?"

He shrugged. "I'm not sure if I mentioned it."

"Well, maybe you should. I think they'd have more compassion if they understood that it's not that you don't want to talk, you don't actually remember what happened."

"It doesn't matter."

"It does matter, and now I know why you can't sleep. Your brain is trying to recreate the memories."

"Possibly. I have a lot of recurring nightmares."

"Isn't there anyone else who can help you fill in the blanks? You weren't alone on that mountain, were you?"

"I talked to some of the guys, but Kyle and I were separated from everyone else. After a certain point, it was just the two of us. Anyway, we don't need to talk about that."

"Are you sure? I can be a good listener. And I'm great at puzzles."

He frowned. "We've shared enough for one night, Sara."

"Have we? You don't want to talk about you, so let's go back about twelve years. I have a question that's caused me a few sleepless nights."

"I'm sure I don't want to hear it."

She ignored him. The wine had loosened her inhibitions and broken down her guard, and the question was bubbling past her lips. "Why did you stop kissing me, Aiden? Why did you pull away? Why did you say
I can't do this
?"

"You said you didn't want to talk about that night," he reminded her.

"That was before we started drinking. I told you that you might regret opening that bottle of wine."

"I should have listened."

"Did you ever wish we hadn't stopped?" she asked.

His mouth tightened. "You should go inside, Sara. It's late and we're both a little drunk."

"Why won't you answer the question?"

"Because it was a long time ago."

"That's not the reason. You always want to call the shots, Aiden. I'm an adult now. You don't need to protect me."

He got to his feet and gave her a short smile. "This time I'm protecting myself."

He disappeared into the shadows, leaving her to wonder at his meaning. It would be stupid to think he'd run off because he was feeling something for her. She'd made the mistake before; she wouldn't do it again. It was good that Aiden had left. This was not the time to start something … or to finish what they'd started before.

* * *

Sara woke up Saturday morning with a headache, a reminder that breaking the rules was never a good idea. Flopping on to her back, she stared up at the ceiling. Despite the pain in her temple, she couldn't regret opening the wine and sharing it with Aiden. It had been nice to talk to someone who'd known her since she was young. None of her New York friends knew anything about her childhood or her family. She never talked about her father to them. But Aiden already knew, and he understood. He saw her side, and she'd appreciated that. But she couldn't let herself think of him as anything more than a friend. Despite the mental admonition, she found herself remembering the night they'd moved past friendship.

She'd been seventeen years old, a senior in high school, and Aiden and his friends were going to a concert in Golden Gate Park. Emma was supposed to go, but she'd gotten distracted by her current crush, and so Sara had gone alone. She'd been so terrified of not fitting in or doing something stupid, that she'd drunk a lot of vodka. At some point in the night, she and Aiden had separated from the others and under the shadows of the trees, they'd started making out.

She'd wanted to kiss him for at least three years so pushing him away had been the furthest thing from her mind. She was ecstatic that he'd finally noticed her, that he wanted her the way she wanted him. He'd told her she was beautiful, and he'd put his tongue in her mouth and his hands on her breasts and she'd wanted more. She'd wanted to have sex with him right there in the park. It didn't matter that they were outside, that people could see them, that she was a virgin. She wanted to be a woman – a woman with him, and the desire in the eyes of the guy she'd always wanted had taken her past the point of sanity.

She blew out a breath, shaken by the memories. Putting her hand to her mouth, she realized that while she hadn't consciously thought about that night in a very long time, she'd been comparing that kiss to every other one since then, which was ridiculous. She didn't even know if it was the kiss that had been so good or the alcohol combined with years of a teenage crush. Probably both of those factors had come into play.

In the end, Aiden's hot kiss had turned to cold rejection. He'd pushed her away, saying he was sorry, but he just couldn't do it.

She'd been stunned. Aiden didn't say no to anyone. He'd probably had half the girls in school, and he prided himself on being a rule-breaker, a risk taker, a rebel. Obviously, she'd been too dull or too something…

He'd left her feeling humiliated. She'd been willing to hand herself over on a silver platter, and he'd turned her down.

Now he was surprised she wasn't grateful to him for saving her from herself?

Anger ran through her as she recalled his earlier words, but deep down she was as annoyed with herself as she was with Aiden.

Maybe she
should
be grateful that she hadn't had sex with him. He hadn't cared about her. In fact, they hadn't spoken after that night, at least not more than a mumbled hello or goodbye when their paths crossed, which hadn't been often. She'd made sure of that. She'd left for college a few months later. Then her mom died, and there was no reason to go home.

Which brought her to the present…

She was twenty-nine, not seventeen, and she had no intention of falling for Aiden's charm again.