Scorch
A Firefighters of Montana Romance
Dani Collins
Scorch
Copyright © 2016 Dani Collins
EPUB Edition
The Tule Publishing Group, LLC
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-944925-47-5
J
acqui Edwards read
for most of the flight, but as her ears began to pop and her seatmate leaned into the window, she tried to see around the older woman’s curly hair to the view.
A dusting of snow covered the valley, cut here and there by the lines of roads. Any ice that had formed along the margins of Flathead Lake through winter was gone. April sunlight bounced in sparkles off the rippling water.
The plane banked and, a second later, there were the Rockies. They jutted like sooty fists of triumph, gray and white against an intense blue sky.
Home
.
The word, the
feeling
, washed over Jacqui with such force, tears bit her eyes and her heart began to pound.
She had expected emotion. Coming back to empty her dream home of its dreams was bound to be seven levels of hell. There would be tears, fresh ones on top of the countless ones she’d shed since she’d left. She had braced herself for the agony.
This wasn’t pain. It was relief.
She was
home
.
She sniffed and wiped at the tickle on her cheek.
The woman at the window turned with a concerned smile and offered a tissue.
Jacqui was so used to crying—in public, in front of strangers, whenever the tears arrived—she only murmured, “Thank you.” Grief was exhausting enough without fighting it out of embarrassment.
These were not tears of grief, though. Russ was always there as a heavy, solid absence crushing her heart, but in Florida her entire
life
had been empty. She had grieved and grieved and grieved the utter emptiness of her existence. No husband, no baby, no job, no home. Not even her freaking dog.
Her father and stepsister wanted to help her rebuild. They loved her and, behind her curtain of pain, she loved them back. Maybe she didn’t have any real hope that she could find a fulfilling life on the other side of the country, but she trusted them to walk her through the steps toward one.
In this minute, however, in this
breath
, she saw the foundation for that rebuild. It wasn’t in Florida. It was here.
Montana was where her childhood memories resided. Where her mother’s gravestone was planted to watch over the receding glaciers. Where her husband’s ashes were scattered among the forests he had tried to protect.
Montana was home.
She
was home.
*
As Vincent Kingston
watched travelers come off the plane and walk straight into the arms of loved ones, he felt the way he always did—like an observer. He had vague memories of his parents hugging him, but after they died, he’d mostly found physical affection with women, his latest being his soon-to-be-ex-wife. He wasn’t feeling very affectionate toward her these days and thus all women were being held at arm’s length.
Hugs were not welcome.
He scanned through the bodies beginning to crowd the luggage carousel.
Jac was short. It was no surprise he couldn’t see her. He thought he did for a sec, but that was a kid with short hair. He scanned for the two snakes of her braids—
She stepped in front of him and his heart took a bound the way it did when he shoved himself out of a plane.
“It
is
you.”
She was even skinnier than she had looked on the tablet all winter and was drowning in an oversized, mustard-colored sweater. Her cheeks were hollow, her chin sharp, her warm, brown eyes wet with emotion. She had her hair cut to something like Peter Pan’s, which made her look even more fragile, tugging at his tough knot of a heart.
But she was smiling that big smile he hadn’t seen since last summer and said, “Oh, Vin!” She threw herself at him.
She was light, wispy as smoke, but she hit him like a mallet in the middle of his chest, winding him. He held her carefully. She was like a fine-boned fairy, smelling like magic yet her wiry arms were surprisingly strong, hugging him with a firm grip she kept around his neck a long time.
He hugged her back, enveloped in a desire to shield her from all the hurt she was facing by coming back here. The words
I miss him, too
, formed on his tongue, but he hesitated. He wasn’t someone who expressed much emotion. Hell, he might make himself cry if he said something. He sure as hell didn’t want that. His chest ached enough as it was, just holding her, but he found comfort in the embrace. The yawning emptiness hanging like a mist in front of his future became less gloomy.
He caught the eye of an older woman with curly, dark hair. She was smiling at them.
This isn’t want you think
, he wanted to protest. This was his best friend’s wife. He and Jac were friends. That was
all
.
If he happened to be aware of her small breasts flattened against his chest, or her soft hair against his jaw, that was just his starved libido whimpering on its chain. He ignored the signals and set her on her feet before his twitching wood became obvious.
Jac was totally off-limits.
*
Jacqui felt her
feet touch the floor and the emotion charging her grounded out, but she was still shaken. That had felt weirdly good. Her father was paunchy, so hugging him was pure comfort, but Vin was built the way Russ had been. He was vital and strong and pure man. Hugging him had felt like a lover’s embrace.
He smelled different from her husband, though, beneath the fragrance of snow and pine that clung to his clothes. Which was stirring in its own way. Recognizable, yet exotic.
She hadn’t felt so much as a hint of sexuality since—
Okay, she wasn’t going there. This was all just really overwhelming. Arriving home to have all her hard-made decisions wobble was taking a toll.
“Hey,” Vin greeted lightly, and sent the back of one finger along her jawline, sweeping away a tear. He bent and shouldered the carry-on bag she’d dropped when she’d thrown herself at him. “Your luggage is blue, right?”
“Yeah. Shar put a pink and yellow ribbon on it. I kept telling her this isn’t Denver, but she’s used to big airports.”
Jacqui was babbling as she tried to pull herself together. She couldn’t even explain the emotion that had overwhelmed her when she’d seen him. Homecoming times a million and completely unexpected. In the last months, she and Vin had connected regularly over Skype, mostly so she could see Muttley. Usually, they had talked about incidental
“how is your day”
stuff. He was working on the house in his spare time so he gave her updates, showed her tile samples and paint chips. Sometimes they talked about more personal things. He always made her laugh at least once. She almost always cried at least once.
Vin took it all in stride, never ruffled beyond his black, spiky hair. His brows were steady, straight lines over blue eyes that never missed a thing. His nose was a reliable bridge, his jaw strong and shadowed with a hint of stubble, his mouth… She had never looked at his mouth up close like this. His upper lip was a line of masculine perfection, deep at the corners, the sexy peaks accentuated by his stubble, his lower lip not quite as wide, but a little fuller.
The weird little catch of sexual attraction pulled at her again.
Vin was good-looking. Of course, she had always been aware of that; she wasn’t blind. But she had never been so struck by
how
hot he was.
Get a grip, Jac
.
Wiping at her cheeks, she said, “Thank you for coming to get me. I know I could have asked…” She shrugged. There were a dozen friends and in-laws she could have asked. “But I knew you’d be easier to be with. You don’t care if I cry.”
He brought his gaze back from scanning the carousel. His brows went down and he tucked in his chin, admonishing. “I care.”
“I mean you
let
me cry. Dad and Sharlene don’t know what to do with me when I’m like this. I’m really not looking forward to…” Talking. Seeing everyone. All the hugging and explaining and processing. She sighed and looked around, dreading bumping into someone they knew.
“It feels strange to see you in person.” He commented with a faint smile. “You’re not much taller than when you’re sitting on the coffee table. And what the hell is this?” He chucked his chin at her hair.
“Last minute madness.” She touched the silky tails at the back of her neck. “I was going for a job interview so I let Shar sheer me. It felt like a clean start at the time, but I wasn’t considering that I was coming back to Montana in April. Look at me.” She plucked the sweater off her mosquito-bite breasts. “Dressed for Florida. I left in the summer so I didn’t take any of my warm clothes. I had to borrow this from Shar so I wouldn’t freeze to death on arrival.”
“Snow’s melting. It’s not too bad.” He commented, and set down her carry-on to shrug out of his plaid shirt.
“Oh, don’t.” She protested.
“I’m acclimatized. I’ll be fine.” He wore a white T-shirt with a smokejumper crest over his heart. It clung to his tight frame, accentuating his muscled chest and flat stomach.
