Chapter 8
LYDIA
The next day, Brand is outside the house at exactly the time he said he'd be.
It's ridiculously early and I wish I could crawl back into my warm bed.
But I'm determined to do exactly what I told him I would.
He'd accepted it, finally, and barked out a plan to teach me what I needed to know.
Forestry, risk identification and finally, how to actually fight fire.
I don't expect him to come to the door, and I'm pulling on my coat and gloves, hurrying through the ritual because I don't want to give him any excuse that might make him change his mind. Because even if I didn't say it to him, he was right. I needed his help.
Like every small town, people talk, and plenty of people had talked about the big man I'm about to spend the day with.
About his military career, how he'd become a firefighter when he returned to civilian life, and how he'd hidden his big, broody, handsome self up on the ridge and glowered gorgeously at everyone.
He had the knowledge and skills this town needed. There was no doubt about it.
And I needed him to teach me what he knew.
I open the door and dash out, crashing into a hard wall of chest and abs that shouldn't already be standing on the porch.
Brand grunts at the impact, then his arms settle around me, steadying me so I don't fall.
It's nice, just like it was yesterday. And even though I'm embarrassed to have collided with him, I can't deny it feels good to have a reason to touch him again.
"Good morning to you, too." His words are gruff, but I'm sure I can hear a hint of humor beneath them.
"Sorry," I say, ducking my head to hide my flushed cheeks. "I didn't expect you to come to the door."
He rocks back on his heels. "What did you think I'd do. Sit in my truck? Honk the horn until you came out?"
I don't know what to say to that and he grins when it's clear I'm speechless. He adds to that in the next breath.
"Sweetheart, when I'm picking up a woman, there's no way I'm going to honk the horn to let her know I'm waiting. Say what you want, but I will treat my girl right."
He doesn't seem to catch what he just said, but I don't miss it. Not one little bit. His girl?
I'm still wondering, trying to puzzle my way through this far too early conversation when his hand lands on the small of my back.
With gentle pressure, he guides me off the porch, his presence solid beside me as we work our way to his truck.
He surprises me again when he opens the passenger door for me and gives me his hand as I step up inside.
It's toasty warm as I settle against the leather of the seat and the urge to curl up is strong. I force myself to sit up straight and click the seatbelt into place as Brand slides onto the driver's seat. He gives me an approving nod, and then points to the cup holder between us.
"You brought me coffee, again?" I hum appreciatively as I pick up the insulated cup, the sweet brew delicious when I take a quick, cautious drink. "This is how you make a girl not hate you for getting her up so early."
His lips twitch, but he doesn't say anything, just shakes his head as he shifts into drive and pulls out onto the road, then heads up the mountain, toward the ridge where his cabin is.
We drive in silence, but again, it's not tense or uncomfortable.
It's more like we're old friends, and I close my eyes as I lean my head back against the seat.
It's cozy in Brand's vehicle and it smells so deliciously like him, that I simply relax.
And wake up to his gentle touch on my cheek.
He's got a strange look on his face, this kind of half smile that almost looks happy, but his eyes are shadowed with sadness. It lasts for a moment, then he looks away, clearing his throat.
"Glad you're awake. I was starting to worry you were going to drool on the leather."
I automatically wipe my face, then fix him with a furious glare when he gives me a victorious stare in response.
"I don't drool."
He winks at me. "Yes. You do. And it's a little bit adorable."
Before I can answer back, he's out of the truck and making his way over to my side.
When he helps me out, I'm able to identify landmarks that tell me right where we are.
The High Reach, where the timber is thick and there's a stretch of white, unblemished snow.
I can see where the edge drops off, and there's only the cold blue sky.
My breath clouds the air in front of me when I breathe out.
It's cold.
Brand gives me an assessing glance. "Fires up here don't happen only when the weather is nice. How well do you know the area?"
"It's been a while since I've hiked through here. Last time I went through the Pass with a guy I dated in high school."
The famous glower is back and then he huffs out a breath, turning from me. "You warm enough?"
"I'm fine. It's not my first winter around here."
I'm not lying. But it's also been a few years, and my time spent in the lower, and warmer, elevations has left its mark. It's been tough to get acclimated to the change since I got back.
"We need to check your skills. Make sure you won't get turned around if something happens up here."
"Have some faith in me, Brand."
He fixes me a glare. "In the dark, with smoke and flames, it's easy to lose your way. This place has fires that happen regularly enough that it's good to be very familiar with it. The better you know the place you're fighting in, the better you're able to find your way out."
Grief is back in his eyes and I'm sure that it's not just me he's thinking about in this moment. From what I've gathered, he doesn't tell war stories, but there's no doubt he's been in battle. He's lost people. I recognize the look because my dad had it sometimes, too.
"Makes sense." I don't argue with him, and he grunts in surprise, then leads the way.
Our boots crunch over the fresh snow and I'm glad I wore my old pair.
They aren't what most people would call fashionable, but up here, fashion takes a back seat to survival.
These are sturdy, waterproof and have great traction.
We walk for a while; the only sound is the wind through the pines and our steps.
It's beautiful up here, calming, as everyone and everything else seem so very far away.
The trees close in around us, and finally, Brand comes to a stop.
My view of the edge I thought we were following has disappeared, crowded out by the thick timber and brush, and I try to find my bearings, looking around us.
All the landmarks I've relied on in the past are blocked by the sentry pines around us.
"Close your eyes." Brand's voice is gravelly, and it sends a thrill through me as I do what he says.
His hands land on my shoulders and he spins me around, keeping me steady on my feet even as the disorientation fills my head.
"Stand here and count to twenty. Then open your eyes and come find me."
I heard him leave, his steps still making noise on the snow, but by the time I've finished counting and look around, the space is empty and I'm not sure which way he's gone.
The snowy ground has been brushed clean and the tracks we'd made on our way in are barely visible. And there are no solo tracks from his big feet to indicate which way he went.
"Well, he wouldn't just leave you here." I flex my fingers in the warm gloves and offer silent gratitude for my decision to wear layers this morning.
The extra pair of socks I'd pulled on when I got dressed keep my feet from feeling the chill, at least for now, and the thick leggings are some protection against the wind.
I look for any sign of Brand passing through here, knowing this is a test I need to pass, and force myself to be patient.
Finally, I catch sight of something. A bent branch in the dense tangle of pine, right about the height of a hulking hunk of a man, and I trust my instinct to follow it.
I get further from the small clearing, and the trees close even tighter around me.
The sun is hidden and it's shadowed in the forest, but the trunks offer their own protection from the blowing wind.
It's not easy to stay on the trail, and I have to stop more than once, checking for signs that I'm going in the right direction. It's pain staking work, but I'm rewarded when I finally catch sight of gray boots against the white ground.
"Found you," I call, and then hurry toward him, only to stumble to a stop when I can see him clearly. Brand is collapsed on the snow, his eyes closed and at first, I'm not even sure he's breathing.
And now I can't breathe. Can't draw in enough air as I reach his side, lifting his hand up as I strip my own glove off, needing my bare fingers against his skin so I can check his pulse.
Which is absolutely, completely fine.
I look at his face, my heart thudding in my chest, to find him looking at me. With what may be approval.
"Good job, there. No panicking, checked for a pulse. Exactly like you should."
I shove his leg. "Not funny."
"It's not supposed to be funny. First Aid, especially when you're in the mountains, is a serious thing."
"I know that. My dad was part of plenty of search and rescue operations as part of the department. He insisted I learn First Aid, CPR, all the things."
Brand shoves up on his elbows and watches me. "I wouldn't have expected any less of him. But here's the thing, being able to execute in a safe, comfortable situation is a different situation than when you're out here in the elements, dealing with a crisis. And you did it."
"I don't like being tested." I scowl at him, even though I know what he's saying makes sense.
This is the kind of stuff every volunteer is going to have to be able to do.
It's simple. It doesn't mean I enjoy the process.
For a second there, I'd felt real fear that something bad had happened to him.
As that eases, though, I'm just embarrassed that I fell for such an obvious trick.
"Everyone has to be tested. It's how they learn and get better. How they develop the kind of confidence needed to be successful in these situations. Having people willing to volunteer is great, but they all have to be able to do the work required."
I nod, knowing he's right. "Fine. Point taken. Did I pass the test?"
"Almost," he says, laying back down on the ground. "But now you have to get me up and out of here."
"How am I supposed to do that?"
"That's for you to figure out."
He grins up at me and then closes his eyes again, mimicking unconsciousness once more.
I grit my teeth, swallowing down any complaints I might have, and get to work.
Because there's no way I'm about to let Brand win this round.