White Heat (10 page)

“What is with you?” Rosa demanded. “You forget to take your vitamin B?”

“I—”

“Listen,
querida,
I just try to tell you, you have paying guests tonight. They’re already in for the night. I gave the man room one, and the couple room two.”

“Okay.” Paying customers were good.

Rosa still had her hands on her hips. “So why you not want Griffin to know you own this place? That you keep us all together out of the goodness of your heart, that you have a soft spot for San Puebla?”

“I keep you here to keep you out of my hair.” Lyndie took a long pull of the beer.

“No, you have soft spot.”

“Yeah. For your food.”

Rosa laughed and hugged her.
“Estas llena de caca.”

Lyndie endured the physical affection—along with Rosa’s telling her she was full of shit—with an eye roll. “I just don’t need to spout out all my personal business for just anyone, that’s all.”

“He is not just anyone. He is helping, he is a hero. You don’t want him to know you have a soft spot, for my food or otherwise. Admit it.”

“Lyndie Anderson has no soft spots.”

Rosa crossed her arms, the universal stance for irked mother figure. “Do you know what I think?”

“If I say yes, will you stop talking?”

“I think you just will not admit that this is home.” Rosa’s smile was warm, and smug. “You know what I know about you?”

“Christ, another question. That you drive me crazy?”

“That you’re always the nastiest to those you care about.” Rosa patted her cheek. “It is an especially lovable trait of yours.”

Lyndie glanced out into the kitchen. Griffin was still eating as if he hadn’t been fed in a week. “If you’re talking about the bath in the creek,” she said, watching him enjoying his food, “he had it coming.”

“You care about him.”

“Sure. He’s going to help stop the fire.”

“You care about him as a man.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’ve only known him one day.”

“A day, a year, it does not matter when it comes to matters of the heart.”

“Rosa.” Lyndie laughed. “Maybe we should switch back to Spanish, your English is starting to fail you.” Grabbing a second beer, she walked back into the kitchen and plopped the bottle down in front of Griffin, who looked up at her warily.

“It’s not poisoned,” she promised, then smiled. “In fact, consider it a peace offering. You know, for the whole creek thing.”

He took a long pull of the beer, then slowly shook his head in regret. “I don’t think so.”

For some reason, the silky words caused her belly to quiver. “You don’t think so what?”

Tipping his head back, he took another long drink, then set the beer down and licked his lower lip.

Another odd quiver.

“We’re not even,” he said softly. “Not yet.”

Oh, boy. “You know what? I’m tired. I’m going to bed. If you want an escort to your room, she’s leaving now.”

He laughed and got up. “So pleasant and agreeable. So positively sweet.”

“Didn’t tell you? Sweet is my middle name.” She led him back down the arched hallway, through the open reception area, to another hallway, down which there were five rooms that Rosa rented out as often as she could, which it turned out wasn’t that often way out here.

But tonight the first two were taken. Beyond that on the right was the one communal bathroom. And then the last three bedrooms. One for Rosa, one for herself, and one for Griffin.

She stopped in front of the bathroom, pushed open the door. Watched him as he registered the perfectly in-order shower.

He didn’t say a word, just slowly craned his neck and looked at her.

As he did, an unusual sound came from behind the second bedroom door behind them. An undeniable moan, low and rough and sensual. Eyes wide, they both turned and looked at the closed door, just as another soft, pleasure-filled feminine cry filled the air.

And then the answering male groan.

“You know what else this place has besides a communal bathroom with a perfectly operational shower?” Griffin asked softly. He leaned toward her, and when he spoke, his lips brushed the sensitive patch of skin just beneath her ear, making her shiver. “Thin walls.”

“Dios mio!”
the woman cried out.
“Otra vez…”

Again,
she was begging. Oh, God. Lyndie stared at the wood, images floating in her mind, and she didn’t know what to do. For once she didn’t know what to do. She glanced at Griffin, wondering what could possibly be going on in his head.

His eyes were dark, and the look he gave her seared the hair right off her arms, tweaking the hot spots in her body yet again, a good many of which she’d forgotten she even had.

Until today anyway.

“It’s funny how just a sound can make you ache,” Griffin said silkily, his eyes never leaving hers.

Oh, man, am I waaaay out of my league.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He lifted a brow. “Is that right?” He stepped close. Too close. He was in her space. “I feel a challenge to prove just how a sound can make you ache.”

“N-no need.”

“Want to try me?” he asked very softly.

“Well, I—”

His mouth came down on hers, cutting off her words, her thoughts. He kissed her for a long, long moment before lifting his head. Now his lips were just a whisper from hers, close but not touching, and she stared at them, willing him to do it again.
Needing
him to do it again.

When he didn’t she grabbed his shirt and closed the gap, doing it herself, opening her mouth to his, and suddenly the twin moans from behind the closed door weren’t the only ones in the inn.

When they broke apart this time, she staggered back a step, staring into Griffin’s slumberous eyes as she let out a shaky laugh. It was that or beg, and she never begged. “I’m still dirty, Ace.”

“You wouldn’t be, if you’d joined me in the creek.”

“Your room is the last on the left.”

“Is that good night, then?”

Just beneath the casual banter was something far too real to play with, and she knew he knew it, too. “Yes,” she whispered, and the same sense of relief flickered through his eyes as well.

With a nod, he turned and started down the hall in his soft, faded Levi’s and worn polo shirt. His hair was still a bit wet from the creek. He looked so good walking away from her that she actually reached for him, but luckily her arms weren’t long enough.

Behind her, the sighs and moans were still coming.

In her own bed, there’d be no such sounds.

Damn it. “Griffin.”

He went still.

“I lied,” she whispered to his broad shoulders. “I ache. Kissing you made it worse.”

He let out a long breath. She knew because his shoulders sagged, just a little, and then he turned to face her. Coming back with his loose-legged stride, he lifted a hand to stroke her jaw. “Lyndie.” He closed his eyes, then opened them on hers. “When we’re just playing, teasing…that I can handle. I can handle it because I know if I tried to take you right now, you’d probably run.”

No. No, she wouldn’t. She would reach for him right back, screw pride. She’d let him do whatever he wanted to her if only to assuage this ache he’d placed between her legs, behind her ribs. But hell if she’d admit that. “Yeah. I’d run.”

“It’s freeing to know it. It’s freeing to understand this is all just a game, a temporary distraction from why I’m really here, because if it’s not…” He touched her arm, ran his fingers up to her shoulder, then slowly shook his head, letting his hand fall from her. “Then I can’t do this. I…can’t.”

“Why?” she heard herself ask, then wanted to crawl in a hole. Or do as she’d promised and run. “No, I take that back, I don’t want to know why—”

He put his fingers over her mouth. “When I want, Lyndie, I tend to want for the long haul. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yeah.” She paled, she could feel it. Long haul. Two bad words in her book.

He nodded grimly. “I can see you’re not the long haul type.”

“No.”

“Then you want to do as you said, Lyndie, and run. Because I’m screwed up, but not so much so that I wouldn’t risk my heart, and enjoy very much teaching you how to risk yours.”

Her stomach dropped and quivered at the same time, and not having a glib answer or any retaliation for that at all, she did as he’d suggested and ran.

Lyndie ended up using the creek that night after all, with only the occasional cry of a coyote or the hoot of an owl for company. It was quiet and dark, and the water felt cold, which worked.

Griffin’s words echoed in her head…the ones about being willing to teach her to risk her heart. That was the last thing she wanted or needed.

But God, she was lonely.

It’d been a long time since she’d felt this way, maybe since her school days, a time when her grandfather had usually been busy with his work late into the night, regretfully leaving her alone more often than not. Back then she hadn’t had anyone to turn to for company, not even a pet. Pets required a stable home life, something they hadn’t had.

She’d gotten used to that, having only herself, and rarely even gave it a thought anymore.

But she was thinking now. She splashed in the water and thought of Griffin. By his own admission he was screwed up. She didn’t know his past, only that he’d clearly faced something horrific, tragic. A loss.

And yet he’d have been willing to risk all again and be with her tonight.

She’d faced losses in her life, too. And she wasn’t willing to risk her heart again, no matter how good a teacher he was.

She didn’t like what that said about her, but there was no denying it. Griffin scared her. He was different, and while that was an attraction, it also required a good amount of distance. It would have to be a mental distance, of course, but she was good at that, real good.

N
ina Farrell sat on the edge of the creek and waited for Lyndie to finish her late night bath. She didn’t think it strange that her friend had stripped down in the creek, she’d done it a few times herself. No, what she thought strange was that Lyndie was still up at…she checked her fancy watch, the one she’d pined for until Lyndie had given it to her last Christmas, looking so elegant and American on her wrist…past midnight.

Interesting.

Everyone knew Lyndie couldn’t handle late nights, that instead she preferred to jump out of bed at the crack of dawn, ready to work, of course.

It was all about work with Lyndie, but despite the tough personal ethics, Nina still loved her.

Even if work was the bane of
Nina’s
existence.

Sure, she was the beloved daughter of Tom Farrell, a man everyone in town respected despite his white skin and terrible fly-fishing skills. And sure, she had a relatively easy job compared to many women her age in rural Mexico. She ran a cantina that her great aunt Lupe had started. The hours suited her, the people she met suited her, the pay suited her.

She just hated being twenty-three and feeling as if her entire life had already been written in stone. She lived in a place out of step with the rest of the world, which meant getting married, having too many babies, and working like a dog until she’d lost all her teeth and was a burden on the very kids she’d given her life to.

No, thank you. She didn’t want that life, she wanted her own. And it wasn’t that she didn’t love kids. She did. She just wanted to teach them, not necessarily have them. She wanted to do that in the States, the land of do-whatever-suits-you. She wanted everything her half-American blood was entitled to: the language, the music, the movies, the everything. She loved it all so much she’d demanded that her father teach her English years ago, and prided herself on her fluency.

If only she could read it as well as she spoke it, she’d be home free.

With all her heart, she’d wanted to go to college in the States, but five years ago when she’d graduated high school, she’d taken one look into her father’s hopeful, expecting eyes, and had known the truth. He wouldn’t let her go.

Normally, that wouldn’t have stopped her, but she didn’t have any ties except right here in San Puebla, and back then, her young, naive eighteen-year-old heart had chosen.

Incorrectly.

She’d regretted it ever since and Nina didn’t live well with regrets. She wanted to go to the States and stay, and she would. Somehow.

Her own dark arms gleamed in the moonlight, mocking her. She was only half American, and didn’t even look that, but she didn’t care. God, to live in a city that had more than a handful of people she’d known forever, with a chance to make a difference, and not because of whose daughter she was, or how many drinks she could mix a night.

It wasn’t as if she was looking to forget her mother’s heritage, not at all. After all, she planned to teach Spanish. There were kids there she could help, she just knew it.

“Lyndie,” she said softly as her friend came out of the water.

No jumping in fright for Lyndie, nope the woman was far too tough for that. She merely reached for the towel she’d set over a branch and wrapped it around her lithe body. Tossing back her short hair, which was lit like fire beneath the meager moonlight, she sighed as she faced Nina. “Why am I not surprised to see you up this late? Who did you go out with tonight?”

“Hey, I don’t always go out. I long ago went through all the guys around here.” Nina sighed dramatically. “I am ready for new waters, Lyndie. Very ready.”

“You always have been.” Drying off, Lyndie sank next to Nina on the edge of the creek.

Around them the smoke clogged out much of the night. The insects hummed. The water rushed over the rocks, the only other sound. Nina wanted to hear cars, trucks, planes. Honking, hollering…She wanted big city noises as her lullaby.

“So what’s up?” Lyndie combed her hair with her fingers. “You’re looking for me in the middle of the night, you’re up to something.”

“It’s only midnight.”

“Which is the middle of the night,” Lyndie pointed out in her rational voice, making Nina laugh.

“Okay, yes, I am up to something,” she admitted. She took a deep breath and looked at her friend—her escape route. “I want to go back to the States with you. I want to move to there and—”

“
What?
Why?”

“To go to college.”

“It’s cheaper here.”

“I do not want cheaper. I want American.”

Lyndie stared at her. “You can’t just up and leave Mexico.”

“Why not?” Nina leapt up to expel some of her energy. God, would no one see? “Because I have a cantina to tend to? Because I have a future all planned out and already rotting? Because I am not allowed to have hopes and dreams like you, and then follow them through to reality? I speak the language as well as anyone there. I am half American,
more
than half if you count my great aunt’s first cousin on her mother’s side, who married a guy in Bakersfield and—”

“Nina.” Lyndie shook her head. “You’re young, and sometimes—”

“Don’t give me that crap about being too young. You’re not that much older than I am. You just feel older because your life is your own and you live it how you want to.” She shoved her fingers through her long hair and turned in a slow, frustrated circle. “Oh, Lyndie, don’t you see? You’ve done what you want, when you want. You’ve seen the world, and you’ve never, not once, let anyone or anything hold you back.”

Lyndie stared at her for a long moment. “Yes, but we’ve had very different experiences.”

“Maybe I just want some experiences.”

“Nina…” With a disparaging sound, she lifted her hand. “Your entire life is here.”

“But my heart is not.” Kneeling at Lyndie’s side, she took her friend’s hands and pressed them within her own, close to her beating heart. “I want this,” she whispered. “I want this so much. Take me with you. Please? I’ll get a job, I’ll support myself, I’ll—”

“What about Tom?”

“He’ll get used to the idea.”

“You haven’t told him.”

“No.”

“Nina, you have to tell him—”

“Not yet. He’ll try to stop me.”

“Nina.” She pressed her fingers to her eyes. “I can’t. I can’t do that to him, I can’t help you run away without a word, without—”

“Fine.” Nina stood again, feeling her chest tighten, her eyes brighten with the tears she would absolutely not shed. “I’ll find another way. On my own.”

“Nina—”

But Nina wasn’t in the mood to hear empty platitudes, she was in a hell-raising mood. And lucky for her, the night had just begun.

Lyndie woke to the scent of fresh tortillas and the sound of Tallulah’s collar jangling, and sat straight up in bed.

It was still dark. Her clock glowed five o’clock. Rosa’s dog had pushed open the door that never locked and now sat on the floor by her bed, waiting expectantly to be rewarded for such adorable behavior.

“Go away.” Lyndie stretched and groaned. Every muscle ached, and then some. The long night hadn’t helped. She’d heard Griffin get up every few hours. The last time, near four a.m., she’d gotten up also, and had found him whispering with Tom at the front door.

Tom had the radio, checking in with the men on the status of the fire, and then relaying that info to their firefighter.

Griffin’s dedication and concern had tightened her chest, and she didn’t know why. Didn’t want to know why.

Still on the floor by her bed, panting sweetly, Tallulah added a little whine for attention.

“Oh, all right.” Leaning over, she reached out to pet her. With a blissful grunt, Tallulah lay on her back, exposing her pathetic hairless pink belly, which Lyndie now couldn’t reach. And she wasn’t getting out of bed to pet a dog.

She wanted to lie back and pull the covers over her eyes. Normally she popped right up in the mornings, but last night had been a long one, and she glared at the paper-thin walls, through which she’d also listened to that amorous couple go at it for hours—and they had been particularly amorous, and arduous.

It hadn’t relieved any of her inner tension, that was for sure. “Damn it.” She sat up. On the nightstand was a note from Rosa:
EAT
.

That it was in English, not Spanish, made Lyndie shake her head. Rosa wanted to make sure she got it.

She did. But for once, it wasn’t food on her mind, but the fire, and the long day ahead.

She got out of bed, tripped over Tallulah, then ended up squatting down to pet her for a moment. Then she grabbed a towel and headed down the hall to the bathroom.

In the Rio Vista Inn, there wasn’t any sense in locking the bathroom. There were two toilet stalls and two showers, and no such thing as privacy.

Tossing aside the big T-shirt she’d worn to bed, she hung up her towel right outside one of the two showers, which were nothing more than a long tiled wall and two shorter tile walls no higher than her collarbone, jutting out to create the two different stalls. A plastic curtain could be pulled across the back, creating the fourth wall. Hopping into the shower, she yanked the curtain closed, dunked her head beneath the hot spray, and wondered what Rosa had left her to eat.

Something good, of that she had no doubt. Something with eggs and peppers and beans and lots and lots of fat.

Her mouth started to water.

Rosa always spoiled her rotten when she came, they all did. She kept her eyes closed as she shampooed and conditioned. What was it about being here, with these people, that got to her? Why did they matter so much when all her life what had mattered had been seeing everything and everywhere and never staying in one place? “And why here,” she murmured as she rinsed her conditioner out. “Why am I growing roots
here
?”

“Roots…where are they, coming out your feet?”

Her eyes flew open at that low, already extremely familiar voice. Sure enough, standing there amidst the rising steam of her shower, looking quite pleased with himself, was one hotshot firefighter Griffin Moore.

Far too at ease, he leaned back against the door and let out a slow smile. “Maybe I should just come in closer and take a peek at those roots.”

Her heart had kicked into gear at just the sound of him, but she managed to sound bored. “Sure. Come on in and get a closer peek. In fact, peek all you want, Mr. All-Talk-And-No-Go.”

An eyebrow lifted as he studied her. He wore another pair of wildland firefighter trousers and a plain white T-shirt with a firefighter logo over his left pec. And a nice pec it was. Either he’d gotten more sleep than she had in spite of checking on the fire, or he managed to hide it well.

She lifted one eyebrow right back at him, then nearly swallowed her tongue when he pushed away from the wood and started walking toward her.

“Hey!” She lifted a soapy arm and pointed it at him. “You’re not supposed to take that dare.”

“If you knew me a little better, you’d know I take all dares.”

“Great time for you to open up and tell me such a thing.” He was still walking toward her, with his long legs and tough, rangy body, and determined, intense expression. His eyes glittered with intent, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. Exactly what kind of intent did he have, and why-oh-why did it make her body hum? “Okay, stop!” She wanted to wince at how shaky she sounded, how breathless. “Stop right there, Ace.”

Halfway between the door and the shower, and only about two feet from her, he did.

The air seemed to crackle around them, as it had on several occasions now. Griffin smiled, just a little one, with a good amount of wickedness in it as the steam swirled around his head. “What’s the matter?” he asked softly.

“I didn’t expect you to really have the
cajones
to come in closer for a peek,” she had to admit. “Not after last night at the creek.”

“Surprise.”

“I hate surprises.” She knew he couldn’t see anything, at least not yet, but her entire body was doing the strangest thing in reaction to his invasion.

It was melting. Nipples tight, thighs quivering, stomach dancing, the whole deal. Apparently, it’d been too long. “Okay, show’s over. You can get out now.”

“Funny thing about bathing around here. No privacy. Take, for example, when I was taking
my
bath.” He said this in a perfectly reasonable tone, as if they were discussing what they were having for breakfast instead of her very naked body. “In fact, you goaded me into that water, and then never took your eyes off me.”

Yeah, but he’d been something to look at. It was what had led her to the cold creek only a little while later, needing the cool air and water to soothe her unwelcome aching and yearning. “In case you haven’t noticed the difference between last night and today,” she said. “I’m completely bare-ass naked here.”

“If you expect
that
to work as a deterrent…” He let out a soft little laugh that was so incredibly sexy to her. “Think again.”

The water began to cool, a warning she knew all too well. She had less than one minute to get rinsed off and out before it went cold. “
Why
are you in here?” she asked desperately.

“To brush my teeth.” He brandished a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste. With that wicked smile still firmly in place, he sauntered on over to the sink, which put him only a foot from her.

She hugged up close to the tile wall of the shower and glared at him.

“Oh, don’t worry. I can’t see anything you don’t want me to see,” he said all friendly-like, and turning away from her, flipped on the water.

Her water went a surge warmer, only a surge, warning her she was really on borrowed time. “I wouldn’t swallow any of that,” she warned him when he bent over the sink.

“Don’t worry.” His words were a little garbled because of the toothbrush in his mouth. “I have a stomach of iron.” He rinsed and lifted his head, and met her gaze in the reflection of the steaming mirror in front of him.

The water cooled even more.

Lyndie hugged the tile and ignored it while she watched him. She had no idea what was so sexy about him brushing his teeth. She considered herself good at reading people. The gift had come from her grandfather, who claimed he could tell the strength of a person’s soul by the look in their eyes.