White Heat (11 page)

Lyndie had no doubt of the strength of Griffin’s soul. He was here. No matter the reason, he was here volunteering his time, his very life, so far from home. She’d seen more of his character yesterday when he’d automatically, instinctively, taken over at every turn, wanting to ensure her safety, and everyone else’s, as well.

And then there’d been last night. He could have gone for it, dug into what she’d have been willing to give, but he hadn’t. And that fascinated her. Scared her, too, in a way she didn’t fully understand.

He finished rinsing and met her gaze in the mirror. “What’s going through that head of yours?” he asked.

“I’m just standing here wondering how it is I’m even here this weekend.”

He turned off the sink. “Hmmm.”

“I had it off, you know. All I had to do was drop you.” She lifted a shoulder. “Drop you and go. Those were my instructions. Then I was free to fly back to San Diego.”

“And yet you stayed.”

“And yet I stayed,” she agreed, and crossed her arms on the edge of the tile so that she could rest her chin on her hands as the water beat down on her.

Cold water. And she didn’t care. “I stayed when it went against the grain.”

“Why was it against the grain to help a village you love?”

She didn’t know. She wanted everything to be black and white, and in her world she did her best to make it so. Griffin, like San Puebla, wasn’t black or white, but a terrifying mix that she couldn’t put her finger on. “Helping isn’t against the grain,” she said. “Staying is.”

He set down his toothbrush and turned to face her, and though he could have tried to get an eyeful, he kept his baby blues right on hers. “Why’s that?”

“I’m an Army brat. We never slowed down enough to settle in anywhere, much less fall in love with a place. But here…” She shrugged. “I’ve settled a little, and that’s scary.”

“Why?”

“Because once you care, you can get hurt.”

His voice was suddenly, terrifyingly gentle. “Did someone hurt you, Lyndie?”

“Not on purpose, no. But…people eventually go away.” Since that was a shocking admission, she turned away to face the water. “And I have no idea why I just told you that.”

“Because the water has gone cold and you’re freezing your brain, but of course you’re too stubborn to admit such a thing.” He reached in, his arm brushing her shoulder and back as he cranked the handle and turned off the water.

The sudden silence seemed deafening.

As he retrieved his arm, she craned her neck to meet his gaze. She felt surrounded by him and yet he barely touched her.

Oh boy, oh boy. Pulling her towel over the tile wall, she wrapped it around herself, making sure everything was covered on the body that felt startlingly, shockingly, wide awake and ready to play.

Then and only then, did she yank back the curtain and step out of the shower, standing before him, water streaming down her limbs from her hair.

His cocky, naughty smile was long gone.

She was fairly certain she herself couldn’t have smiled to save her life.

His voice sounded hoarse. “Lyndie—”

“I need to ask,” she whispered into the steamy room. “What
your
demons are that made you face that fire yesterday, when you didn’t want to, and what will make you face it again today.”

For a long moment he didn’t so much as breathe, then he slowly shook his head. “It’s complicated.” Reaching out, he ran a finger over her wet jaw. This time when he smiled it was a heartbreakingly sad one. “Very complicated.”

A
s dawn burned red and orange in the sky, lighting the forest, the rock formations, the overhang of smoke, Nina walked in the front door of the small but well tended casa she shared with her father—just as he was leaving.

Tom scratched his head and studied his precious only daughter. “I got your note. What do you mean you want to go home with Lyndie? Lyndie
is
home.”

“No, this is just a stop for her.” They stood in the open tiled hallway her great, great uncle had laid himself. The walls were stucco from two centuries back, lined with shelves that collected dust like a showcase. She looked around her and made a sound of disgust. “There’s so much damn dust in these damn mountains that it’s permanently seeded in my pores.”

“There’s dust in other cities, Nina. And even in the States.”

“Yes, well, it’s probably a cleaner dust. And this isn’t Lyndie’s home. She loves us, very much, but San Puebla isn’t her home.”

“She’s home here,” Tom insisted, because he wanted it to be so. He wanted everyone to be as happy here as he was. “She owns the place next door, now, doesn’t she?”

“Yes, because otherwise Rosa would have gone belly-up. But you and I both know Lyndie’s true home is the air. Her home is wherever the fancy strikes her.” She sighed. “Do you have any idea how the freedom of that draws me?”

Tom felt his stomach slide to his toes. “You don’t want to live like that.”
Please, don’t let her want to live like that.

“Papa, I’ve told you before, I don’t want to live here. You don’t listen.”

God help him, he’d ignored it, thinking she’d outgrow the need to go. But she’d never sounded so determined before, never.

To the bones, she was her mother’s daughter, with pure willpower running through her forceful, proud veins. Maria had been his heart, his soul, from the moment he’d set foot in these rugged, isolated hills. Actually, at first it’d been delirium, as he’d come through on a fishing trip, and had collapsed from a terrible flu.

Maria had taken care of him, babied him, spoiled him for days, and by the time he recovered, he’d fallen hard. Thank God it’d been mutual. He’d gladly stayed, loving the wide, open spaces, the pace of life, the feel that time had stood still. They’d married, spent a few blissful years so in love it almost hurt to look at each other. Then in one tragic heartbeat, she’d given him his precious daughter and lost her own life.

Even now, the memory grabbed him by the throat and threatened to choke him. He’d stood in that hospital holding the newborn Nina, unable to accept what the doctor told him. He’d gained a baby, and lost his wife.

Over the years he’d come to terms with the loss, and even though he still missed Maria terribly, he had Nina.

And now she was going to leave him, too.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she whispered. “You make my heart hurt. Papa, you are my family, you are my everything, but I…I need more.”

“What? What is it you need? Just tell me.”

“That’s just it! I don’t know, not until I get out there and do some living.” She cupped his face, kissed both his cheeks. “You came here on a whim when you were younger than I am right now. Your parents didn’t stop you. Your friends didn’t stop you. Now let me do the same.”

“My folks are gone now. There’s no one for you there.”

“I don’t care. There was no one for you here, either.”

“Your mother.”

“But you didn’t know that when you first landed here.”

He stared at her for a long moment, wondering how to reach her, how to make her happy. “You don’t know what the States are like,
querida,
” he said desperately. “It’s too dangerous for a beautiful young woman alone on the streets—”

“I’m not going to be on the mean bad streets of Los Angeles or New York. I’m going to be in sunny, beach-town San Diego, at least at first.”

“Nina.” God, how to reach her? “I’m sorry you’re unhappy. I hate that you are, but this will pass. Your home is here, your job is here, and translating—”

“No. Papa, please, listen to me. I’m not trying to disconnect from you, or even forget my culture. I’m still going to love you. This is just something I have to do. Lyndie is going back to San Diego either tonight or tomorrow, you know she is. I want to go, too. I want to be more American than holding a piece of paper. I want to live it. Like you did.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m a Mexican now.”

She looked at his white skin, his pale, pale hair, his freckles, and laughed.

“In
spirit,
” he said. “I’m Mexican in spirit, which is all that matters. Your mother was Mexican. That makes you full-blooded.”

“No. I’m half American. I speak flawless English, you yourself saw to that. I want to go to college there.”

“You said you didn’t want to go to college. I tried to send you—”

“Mexico City doesn’t interest me. I’ve told you, you don’t want to listen.”

“Because I love it here, I feel close to your mother here. I can no more leave here than I can forget her, and it terrifies me that you can.”

“I just want to see the rest of the world.”

Tom sagged a little, stared at the tall, beautiful, headstrong daughter he loved with all his heart. “You look so much like her. I want you to be happy, like she was.”

“You want me to be happy here. But I can’t be.” She took his hands, kissed them. “I’m glad I look like her, Papa. She was beautiful.” She rubbed her cheek over his knuckles. “But I can’t be happy here, not like she was. Please understand.”

“No.”

She looked into his eyes. “Then I’m sorry for you.”

“You’re not going.”

“I love you, Papa.”

Tom watched her walk away from him, and right out of the room, and wondered how much longer he could put her off before he had to let her go. Let his only baby go.

Griffin sat outside under a still dark, fire-ravaged sky after Lyndie’s shower, concentrating on breathing and breathing only. If he didn’t, he might wonder at the way he’d reacted to a woman after all this time, a woman unlike any other he’d ever met. What was it about her that made him want to feel again? Maybe he was tired of feeling raw and wounded. Maybe deep down he wanted more, and was willing to fight for it.

Because that was a difficult thought, he switched gears, thinking about the day ahead, about having to be out there dealing with the fire.

His stomach dropped. His gear was at his feet, he was ready to go. As ready as he got, anyway. He figured Lyndie wasn’t the type to linger over hair or makeup or whatever other mysteries women engaged themselves in every morning. She’d be in a hurry to get back up the hill and see what was happening.

He should be in a hurry as well, but he couldn’t deny that he wished he was sitting on a beach in San Diego, with his biggest concern being the rising tide.

The porch of the inn was wide and cool, and he leaned back against a post. Once upon a time he’d loved this early hour.

Now he typically slept it away.

Tallulah wandered out of the woods toward him, her little legs slowly carrying her. She whined, and when she finally came close enough, he could see why. She was sporting a two-inch gash alongside her nose, just beneath her left eye.

“What did you put your nose into, dog?”

Looking pathetic, she sat at his feet and whined again.

With a sigh, he went into his pack for his first aid kit. “Come here, then.”

Trustingly, she moved closer and a drop of blood fell at his feet. “Poor baby,” he said, and scooped her into his lap to clean her up, which she let him do with only an occasional whimper.

He’d just set her back down again when his open backpack rang. Odd, as he didn’t have a cell phone. He went through the red bag he’d have sworn he’d searched thoroughly by now, and pulled a cell out of an inside pocket.

His brother’s. He lifted a shoulder at Tallulah, who looked as surprised as he, and punched the answer button. “Hello?”

“You okay?” Brody asked.

“This is a new low, even for you, planting your cell phone on me.”

His brother laughed softly. “I was wondering if you’d even know what a ringing phone sounded like, seeing as you’ve been avoiding one for a year now.”

“Don’t you have something more important to do? Say, take a nap? Or maybe find a lake to toss a line into?”

“Nah. I’ve got plenty of time for both later. So…” All humor disappeared from Brody’s voice. “How’s it going? I didn’t sleep last night worrying about you, wondering if I’d pushed you too far too fast.”

“Well, you did. I hope that keeps you up tonight, too. Make that every night.”

“Damn, Grif…It’s that bad?”

“What do you think?”

“I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah. That helps a lot.”

“I just thought if I tossed you in, you’d swim, you know? I didn’t know what else to do.”

Chest uncomfortably tight at the anguish in his brother’s voice, Griffin squeezed his eyes closed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, I was perfectly happy sitting on that beach—”

“Alone.”

“I didn’t need this—”

“Yes, you did. You needed that kick in the ass.”

“It feels like a kick in the heart.”

“Look, we’ve been through all this. Just promise me you’ll use the phone, okay? Call Mom and Dad—”

“I’ve got to go.” Griffin clicked off and resisted the urge to toss the thing into the bush. He purposely blanked his mind, petting Tallulah, listening to the birds…and he managed, too, until unbidden came the lovely image of Lyndie and how she’d looked in the shower, all wet and shiny and alluring.

That worked, too.

Hard to believe that in all this time, another woman hadn’t turned his head, not once. And yet Lyndie turned his head plenty. Hell, she turned him completely around. Almost as scary as what he had to do today.

Fight a fire.

He’d dreamed last night; long, haunting, terrifying dreams, reliving everything that had happened a year ago, and had woken breathless, with the names of the fallen on his lips and tears on his cheeks.

And he had to go back to that hell today. Now he had Brody’s words in his head as well.

Call Mom and Dad…

Damn it. He hadn’t spoken to them in so long…too long.

He’d lost his way back.

Brody wanted to help him. The surprise of that—of his wild, irresponsible baby brother coming through for him instead of the other way around—would have been far more potent if he wasn’t here in this very spot facing his nightmares because of Brody.

He hadn’t called home, and there was great shame in that, but he knew the pain of hearing his parents’ voices would break him. They’d want to talk about what had happened, and he just couldn’t go there, not even for them. Couldn’t relive the incident that had led to so many deaths, not unlike the fire he had to face today—

Footsteps sounded behind him. The denim-covered legs that appeared in his peripheral were tight and toned. “Well, look at that, you’re so eager you’re waiting outside for me.” Lyndie came down the stairs so that she stood right in front of him. “Or maybe you just want to get it over with?”

Her hair was still damp, the fiery auburn strands cut in those short chunky layers that framed her small heart-shaped face. She smelled like strawberries today.

He loved strawberries. “Take your pick.”

“The latter,” she decided. “You definitely have the look of a man who needs out of here.”

The front door slammed again. Rosa came out on the porch wearing a gauzy skirt and blouse as bright as yesterday’s, and carried a tinfoil-covered plate. “You,” she said, and jerked her chin at Griffin. “You are in trouble with me.”

He craned his neck to look around, but nope, she had to be talking to him.

“You did not eat.” She thrust out the plate, which he took rather than see it tip into his lap. Then, standing right in front of him, she put her hands on her hips and waited.

He glanced at Lyndie, who only lifted a shoulder. “She’s the boss,” she said. “I’d do what she says.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not that hungry—”

“Tallulah!” Rosa had caught sight of her dog, and dropped to her knees in the dirt, opening her arms. “
Mi querida,
what happened to you?” She touched the white bandage beneath the dog’s eye.

“I think she put her nose where it didn’t belong,” he said. “I cleaned it up so it wouldn’t get infected.”

Rosa kissed Tallulah, then looked at Griffin. “You are a doctor?”

“Paramedic training, that’s all.”

“And a true hero.” Rosa gave him a big hug, and Tallulah—still in her arms—licked his face from chin to forehead. “
Heroe mio.
No way are you going to work all day long without a good solid base.” Rosa pointed to the plate. “That is a good solid base, I cook it myself.”

“Thank you—”

“So eat. And you—” Rosa pointed at Lyndie, whose strawberried lips went from smug to surprise. “I double load that plate. Sit your pretty little butt down next to him and dig in.”

Lyndie shook her head. “I grabbed a few tortillas off the counter. We have to go.”

“It’s not quite six. You’re early enough, the sun just barely coming up.”

Lyndie opened her mouth, probably to give another argument, but Rosa merely pointed her finger to the spot next to Griffin. With a roll of the eyes, Lyndie sat.

He opened the foil. Eggs, beans, fresh tortillas…the delicious scent wafted up and tickled his nose, coaxing his stomach to rumble hopefully. “Rosa, you’re amazing.”

Lyndie let out a snort but scooted her “pretty little butt” closer and grabbed a chorizo, a spicy Mexican sausage.

The door slammed again, and out came Tom, who eyed the plate with interest.

“Don’t even think about it,” Rosa said and held him back. “I just fed you.”

Tom patted his flat belly. “Can never get enough of your cooking, Rosa.”

Rosa patted his flat belly too, and smiled fondly. “Is that right?”

Tom smiled at her for a long moment, then turned to Lyndie. “You be careful up there today with your asthma, you hear me?”

“I’m always careful.”

Tom jutted his chin toward Griffin. “You watch her, you keep her safe.”