Wild for the Firefighter (Heroes of Whispering Pines #11)

Chapter One

Sunlight hits me square in the eyes. I jerk the wheel to the side and slam on the brakes.

My heart pounds furiously. Good sign. That means I didn't lose my life tumbling down a ravine off Bearclaw Pass. I reach a shady stretch of road and hit the accelerator.

I’ve got to slow down.

But I’m almost there. I crest the hill at the height of Bearclaw Pass. On the opposite side is the most beautiful place I’ve ever known.

Swathes of evergreens surround a pristine mountain lake. Luxury homes of seasonal residents spread out along the shoreline. Their piers jut out over shimmering water. At this time of year, very few boats remain tethered to the wooden pilings.

The summer tourist season is over. The first frost could come any day now.

I strain to glimpse out the top of the windshield. Above me is azure blue, the color of my daughter Lara's eyes.

The road turns sharply. I twist the wheel, somehow keeping a grip on the worn leather.

Now I see it. I take in a horrified breath. Smoke rises from the far side of Bearclaw Lake. Right over the bed-and-breakfast.

I glance ahead and slam on the brakes. Mom's ancient Cherokee comes to a screeching stop in front of an SUV with the Bearclaw Mountain Park logo.

I leave the Jeep and head toward tall, lanky Ollie speaking into his phone. He’s the sweetest guy. My cousin is lucky to have snagged him as her boyfriend.

I make out the words “damage” and “contained” from his end of the call.

This is no small fire.

“Sammy,” Ollie says.

“What’s going on?”

“Big-time fire at the bed and breakfast. But things are looking better by the minute. They don’t think it’s going to spread, so they can focus on the structure.”

Ruined. The B&B. My plans. My savings. “Was anyone hurt?”

“So far it doesn’t look like any of our guys got hurt.” Ollie holds my gaze. “You said there was no one in the B&B?”

“No one was there. It was about to undergo renovations.”

I picture the twenty-thousand-square-foot B&B that was going to be the central dwelling of my digital detox retreat. The architect submitted the plans last week for the renovations. He told me the structure was sound. The bones were good. The exterior barely needed any work.

It’d be finished by the end of the year.

I was going to spend the rest of winter putting the finishing touches on the interior design and getting reservations on the books. We were going to open this spring.

Did the inspector miss something? Was there a gas leak? Bad wiring?

“Did the fire originate in the B&B?”

Ollie shrugs. “You’ll have to ask the crew. All I know is everyone’s safe."

A red truck that looks like the cross between an ambulance and an ATV barrels toward us. “Wildland Fire Authority,” Ollie says. “Things must've calmed down if they’ve got time to check in.”

The Wildland Fire Authority appears to be one man getting out of the driver’s side. He has on a yellow suit with reflective strips, and there's a yellow helmet perched on his head. He's tall and broad and looks like he means business.

He pushes the door shut behind him and stalks toward Ollie like I don’t exist. “Any word from the B&B owner?” he asks, bringing the scent of smoke and heavy equipment.

I’m the owner, I mean to say, but the words won’t come.

I can only stare. The Fire Authority is magnificent.

He’s got the high cheekbones and authoritative jawline of a guy who appears on magazine covers.

Or, more to the point, firemen calendars.

Cutting through his hazel eyes are flecks the color of evergreens.

Wavy brown hair falls just over his jacket collar.

The light lines around his eyes make me think he’s in his mid-thirties at least.

Ollie looks over at me. “This is the owner, Samantha Lane. She just got here.”

The Fire Authority shifts his gaze. Our eyes meet, and the world seems to pause for instant attraction to wreak havoc on me.

Suddenly, I’m warm and weak. It’s glorious and completely unexpected. I didn’t think it was possible to feel this kind of undeniable, and undeniably sexy, connection ever again.

But here I am with a perfect stranger, and I can practically feel his hard body against mine.

It’s shocking, childish, and refreshingly liberating. It’s also completely incongruous with the situation at hand.

“I’m Brady Wilkinson from the Fire Authority. I’ve been working on the fire since we got the call. I’m afraid there’s been damage.”

“How bad?” Judging by the grave expression on Brady’s face, I've already got my answer.

“We believe the B&B is unsalvageable. We’re going to have to tear it down. The fire started on the basement level. Under other circumstances, at other times of the year, the building could be left to stand. But September is wildfire season.”

“I grew up in Whispering Pines. I know about wildfire season.” I sound snappish, but I wasn’t taking an unreasonable risk in buying the property. Wildfire season has never gotten completely out of hand in my lifetime.

“Good to know you understand what we’re up against. Is there anything we should know about the building or the property? Anything sentimental you want us to look out for?”

I shake my head. “Nothing. I bought the B&B only six months ago. I was renovating it to be a digital detox retreat.”

“That’s what I heard.”

I can’t tell if there’s judgment in his voice. Some people think I’ve lost my marbles in deciding to build the retreat. But I’m too passionate about the idea to back off.

I truly believe the world needs fewer screens and devices and more nature and human connection. After the divorce, that’s what I needed, but I couldn’t make it work in Los Angeles.

I'm not sure I can make it work in the forests outside Whispering Pines. But at least I can afford to try.

Can I at this point?

Ollie gives me a half-hug, which is sweet and thoughtful. The urge to cry catches in my throat.

“So, just to confirm, there was no one in there?” Brady asks.

I shake my head. “No one.”

“Alright, then. Do you have any questions or concerns?”

“When will I get to see what’s left?”

“We’ll keep you notified about safety issues regarding the property and give you guidelines for land care after we’ve removed the debris.

In the meantime, you’ll want to start up a conversation with your insurer.

They’ll probably want one of their guys out here as soon as possible.

Our inspector is gathering all the information he can, taking pictures and measurements so we can figure out the cause and spread. ”

Brady turns to Ollie. “I’m headed back in. If you hear anything we should know, get in touch.”

We watch Brady, the too-handsome fireman, get back into the wildland fire vehicle.

“I’m sorry about all this,” Ollie says as the vehicle careens down Bearclaw Pass toward the lake.

“At least no one was hurt. Keep me posted on what’s happening. I’ll go back home and start talking to the insurance company.”

“Sure thing, Sammy.”

I take Bearclaw Pass in a state of shock. I haven’t felt this numb since the divorce. I never thought it was possible to feel this horrible again. But here I am. Only this time, I’ve exhausted my abilities to start over. I’ve invested all my savings in the retreat. I’m stuck in Whispering Pines.

This is where I want to be. This is the best place for Lara and I.

Is it?

When your dream burns to the ground, isn’t that the universe telling you to get out?

I could go back to LA so Lara can be close to her father and his family. Work for someone else for a change, instead of doing it all myself.

And be absolutely miserable.

I make my way along Whispering Pines’ main drag toward the house I rented for Lara and I. It’s not far from her school. She can ride her bike to the shops. She’s already picked out a few girls she wants to become friends with. She’s gaga about starting T-ball.

I pass Pines Diner. Bev always puts extra marshmallows in Lara’s hot chocolate. And, boy, does that make her happy.

I’ve got no choice but to make it work in Whispering Pines. I don’t know how I’m going to do it. But for Lara’s sake, I have to.