Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Jake turned on the shower, glanced at himself in the mirror, and realized he was frowning. He and Callie had had a beautiful night on the riverbed, where she’d thoroughly distracted him from all his problems. She had a way of doing that, of making nothing seem as important as the moment.
He loved that. In fact, he’d had high expectations for the rest of the moments left in the evening, but Michael had ruined that.
Callie hadn’t seemed unnerved by Michael’s late visit, but Jake sure as hell was. He claimed to be Callie’s best friend, and everyone else liked and trusted him, but Jake had looked into his eyes that night and seen something new, something just a little ugly.
The guy wanted Callie, badly. And if Jake had been a good man, an unselfish one, he might have encouraged that relationship. After all, he was leaving, and he wanted Callie safe and happy.
But he wasn’t unselfish. He turned off the shower without using it and stepped out of the bathroom. He didn’t want to think about Callie with another man. He wanted her safe and happy…with him. “Damn it.”
In his bed, already fast asleep, Tucker stirred. “What?”
“Nothing.” Callie was going to yell at him for interrupting, he was damn sure of it, but too bad.
He’d already stripped out of his shirt and boots.
Finding either in the dark mess of their cabin would take too long, so he went to the door without.
The moment he opened it and drew a smoke-filled breath, he jerked in disbelief.
“Jesus. Tucker, call 9-1-1.” Then he started running, because Callie’s cabin was lit with fire from the inside, the windows a brilliant yellow and orange. “Callie!”
Her front door stood open. He leapt onto the porch and grabbed the doorjamb, taking in the sight before him like a snapshot.
Callie was on the floor, with Michael holding her down while she struggled and kicked at him.
Above them, the couch was on fire, and so was the coffee table, as well as the throw rug right next to them.
And on the floor a few feet away, far too close to the burning couch and coffee table, lay an utterly still Amy, with blood seeping from her head and mouth.
His heart nearly stopped. “Callie!” But he went for Amy first. He had to, she was out cold and the flames were too close to her hair. Scooping her up, he ran to the front door, nearly plowing into Tucker. “Take her.” He thrust her in Tucker’s arms, then whirled back.
Callie and Michael were rolling across the floor now, panting, fighting in eerie silence.
Barefoot, he ran toward them, jumping over the fire that spread from the rug to the lace curtains.
Flames leapt toward the ceiling. He reached the two of them just as Callie managed to stop their momentum with her on top.
She fisted her hands in Michael’s hair and slammed his head to the floor.
Michael’s eyes rolled back in his head and his hands fell from her. Panting, Callie slouched over him for one second before Jake hauled her up and into his arms.
“Extinguisher,” she rasped, grabbing her throat as if it hurt to talk, and he could see why. The bastard had tried to choke the life out of her, leaving bruising handprints on her skin.
“Kitchen. The extinguisher’s in the kitchen.” She struggled to pull away to do it herself.
“I’ve got it.” He pointed at her as he started running. “Outside now!”
He found the extinguisher and turned back to find her struggling to drag Michael outside.
Her shirt was torn off one shoulder. She had a bloody lip and a nasty scratch above one eye, but she was tugging Michael’s limp body for all she was worth.
He rushed to her, picking up Michael himself, gritting his teeth at the burst of pain in his shoulder.
Outside, Tucker had just set Amy down and was heading back in. “Here,” Jake said and dumped Michael on the grass next to Amy. “Watch him.”
Back inside he went right for Callie, who was fighting with the extinguisher.
He took it from her and with his shoulder screaming, started attacking the fire.
It came as second nature to him, thank God, because his usual calm was nowhere to be found.
This was Callie’s place, Callie who’d nearly gotten killed, and nothing about this felt like fighting a fire usually did.
And he knew right then and there, it wasn’t just Callie. It was him. Something within him had changed. As that thought settled over him, a stream of water shot past him. Callie stood just behind him with the hand-held faucet from her kitchen sink on full blast.
Looking at her fierce, protective expression, at the blood seeping from several cuts, her torn clothes, at how she was giving everything she had, he nearly sank to his knees with the force of emotion he felt for her. “Get outside,” he said hoarsely.
“Not until you do,” she said, continuing to send her small stream of water on the fire.
“Callie—” He broke off when he heard sirens racing up the drive. Thank God. “They’re here—” He broke off when she put her hand to her head and swayed, and he dropped the extinguisher to grab her.
“Your shoulder,” she murmured in protest when he carried her outside, but he didn’t put her down. He couldn’t, he discovered, not even when Eddie, Stone, and Lou came running. Not even when one of the paramedics came forward and wanted to check her.
The guests had all come outside, too, in various stages of dress, but Marge was with them, calming everyone down.
Tucker held Amy in his lap again, while keeping a foot on Michael, who he relinquished to the sheriff.
They could hear Michael moaning about his family jewels and how Callie had kicked them into next week.
Jake still couldn’t believe it. There’d been an emergency, a fire.
His own element, but Callie had saved herself.
She’d saved herself, and maybe, just maybe, as he stared down into her face, heart pounding, blood still frozen in fear, she’d saved him as well.
Not an easy admission for a man extremely used to being the hero.
He still couldn’t let go of her. For nearly six weeks now, he’d told himself this odd and desperate need for her was just lust, but that was turning out to be pure bullshit.
No matter that he didn’t want to be falling for her, no matter that he didn’t do love, things were happening inside him that he couldn’t stop.
And he no longer wanted to.
Hours later, after the fire had been put out, after all the questions had been answered, after Amy and Callie had both been checked out by the paramedics, Amy let Tucker into her cabin.
It was the first time she’d done so, and she stood by her little couch looking at him as he shut the door behind him.
In another place and time, his doing so would have panicked her, put her into full defense mode, but at the moment she was either too tired or…or she’d come to trust him.
He turned to her, weariness and lingering fear etched in the lines of his face as he slid his hands into his pockets. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, but Callie—” Her voice cracked a little at that. She’d never forget the sight of Callie trying to crawl away from Michael. “She’s hurt far worse—”
“Jake’ll take care of her.”
She knew a little about the tension between the brothers. “Is that okay with you?”
“Yeah.” He rubbed a weary hand over his face. “I was wrong about Jake. And if he and Callie have found any happiness together, more power to them.”
“But where will she sleep? I should have told her to come here—”
“I gave them my cabin for tonight, though surprisingly, Callie’s cabin isn’t that bad off.”
“Where will you sleep?”
“I’ll find a spot.” He shrugged. “It’s you I’m worried about right now.” He walked toward her slowly, with his crooked, rather endearing smile in place, clearly not wanting to frighten her.
For some reason, she felt like bawling. “I’m okay.”
He shook his head. “I’m not. I want to just look at you.
God, I could look at you forever.” He lifted a hand, and she stared at him unflinchingly.
He let out a breath and ran a finger gently, so very gently, over the cut on her head.
The paramedic had closed it with Steri-Strips.
He’d thought she could be mildly concussed and should go to the hospital.
But having a healthy fear of hospitals, she’d refused.
Now Tucker made a low, rough sound in his throat while he touched her. “When Jake put you in my arms, I just about died. You were so still—”
“Just knocked out for a second. I hit the corner of the coffee table.”
He nodded, and his gaze dropped to hers. “You have got to have a helluva headache. They said no aspirin. Can I get you some Tylenol?”
She’d been through so much worse than this in her life, she nearly laughed, but he was still touching her, and her whole body was on alert. “I’m okay,” she whispered.
“Yeah.” His finger trailed down her temple, along her jaw.
“I’m so glad for all of us,” she babbled quickly. “Stone, Lou. Me.”
“None of us ever believed you’d done anything wrong. Amy—”
She caught his hand in hers, then closed her eyes. “I want you to know something.” She opened her eyes and brought their joined hands to her chest. Still watching him, she spread his fingers over her heart. “I unpacked.”
His smile was slow and heart-melting. “That’s good. That’s real good.”
“Yeah. Tucker, I’ve not spent much of my life feeling wanted or even particularly liked. Certainly never cherished.”
His smile faded, a tortured look crossing his face. “Amy—”
“No, listen. Please. I have to get this out. The way you try to be so careful with me makes me feel those things.” Her heart had started pounding hard and fast as she spoke, and she knew he could feel it.
“I’ve never done this before, never opened up like this, but life is too short.
” She drew a deep breath. “Tucker, I really like you. I just wanted you to know that.”