Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
I’m making coffee when a shadow fills the kitchen entryway, startling me so bad coffee grounds spray all over the counter.
CJ hurries over. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I sweep coffee grounds from the counter into my palm, turning my back on him to keep from staring because morning CJ is just as hot as dinner-guest CJ. He’s freshly showered, his mop of sexy curls still damp.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper even though Dad got up early to shovel snow and take care of barn chores.
“We got in pretty late. Your dad said I could crash in your brother’s room.”
I don’t want the details of what they saw last night, and even if I did, he wouldn’t be permitted to share.
“Where are your paper towels?” He glances over his shoulder while he searches.
“We don’t have any,” I say, then wish I’d lied. Which makes me cringe because I promised myself to stop doing that. “They stopped carrying the recycled kind, so…”
“How about a dishcloth?” he asks, not missing a beat.
I point with my chin as I dump the coffee grounds into the sink and rinse my hands. “In that drawer.”
While he’s busy searching, I drink in the plain white T-shirt that outlines his muscular shoulders and chest and his dark green uniform pants that somehow fit his waist like they were tailored to his body.
What is wrong with me? It’s not like I’m impressed by a guy in uniform. Dad wears one. So do Zach and William.
CJ steps next to me and reaches to wet the towel. Just his nearness sends a wave of soft heat rolling down my spine. It reminds me how good he felt pressed up against me Sunday night at the Sweetwater.
“You wanna tell me why we’re lying to your dad?” he asks, arching an eyebrow before he spins away with the towel.
I shut off the water. “I did it for you as much as for me.”
He wipes down the coffeemaker and gives the counter one final swipe. “He doesn’t have to know we—”
“I didn’t expect to see you again.” I take the dishtowel from him, ignoring the buzz under my skin when our fingers brush. “Yet you must have known we’d cross paths.”
He braces off the counter. “I thought it would be a fun surprise when we did.” After a heaving sigh, he spins around, his stormy eyes earnest. “But I should have told you.”
I get what he’s saying, but I don’t need things getting any messier.
“And how was I supposed to know my new boss would be your dad?” He crosses his arms, which just makes me want to nibble up the line of muscle in his bicep. “You didn’t tell me you were from Finn River.”
“I’m not telling a potential ax murderer where I live.” I toss the dishtowel in the sink.
He chuckles, but it’s low and sultry. “And yet you had no trouble getting yourself off with one?”
A needy throbbing tightens low in my belly. “It’s not like I went home with you.”
His stormy gaze sweeps down my body then back up to my eyes. “If public places are your thing, we could—”
“You didn’t ask for my number.”
He releases a full breath, puffing his handsomely scruffy cheeks. I remember what it felt like to kiss him while his soft mustache brushed my lips. What would that mustache feel like elsewhere?
The front door opens, and CJ locks eyes with me for an instant. “I should have done that too,” he says in a low tone just as Bruneau bounds around the corner, followed by Dad, dressed in barn clothes.
“Oh, you’re up.” Dad scowls at CJ, but his eyes soften when he sees me. “Why don’t you come with us today, huh? You know the Winter Range Project better than anyone.”
My empty stomach cramps, unease spreading through me. “I’m going to yoga with Maryanne. In fact, I need to head out.”
I wanted to find a way to apologize for this lie I’ve forced CJ into, but now I’m too flustered, and this whole situation is unsettling.
I thought I was okay with the Sweetwater being a one-time thing, but now CJ’s here, in my life, messing with my plans.
So I give Dad a quick hug then head for the door. Coffee will have to wait.
I guess honesty will too.
At least a foot of new snow fell overnight, but the dawn sky is peppered with twinkling stars.
It would be a great day to visit Finn River’s Winter Range, but something inside me resists, and I don’t know why.
Maybe it’s the company? The Winter Range Project has special meaning to me.
Could it be that sharing it with the guy I got reckless with in a crowded bar makes me feel even more vulnerable?
Though CJ seemed to take interest in it, so that’s probably not the cause.
Is it because I’m afraid of what I’ll feel when I’m there? The longing that’s never quite gone away?
The yoga studio is located in the center of town, on the second floor of an old building with creaky floors and a view of Bear Lake, which is half the reason I agreed to come.
When I arrive, Maryanne is waiting for me in the entryway. “I just saw your text about CJ. That’s quite the plot twist.”
“Later,” I mutter under my breath as I stuff my things in one of the cubbies because class starts in one minute.
Thankfully, Maryanne saved me a spot because the class is surprisingly crowded.
How can so many people be awake at this hour, let alone eager to cram into close quarters just to get sweaty together?
At least Maryanne and I are near the big window so I can gaze across the sleepy downtown to the sapphire expanse of the lake framed by the rolling, snow-covered foothills.
While the teacher runs us through our paces and the hot air thickens with everyone’s collective breathing, my thoughts wander back to the kitchen this morning.
What CJ shared spins round and round in my thoughts.
It was so much simpler when I thought I’d never see him again.
He purposefully withheld that he’s a conservation officer.
Maybe I could count the way it came off as harmless flirting, but I flat-out told him that honesty is the most important thing to me, and what did he do? He completely failed to own up.
I will not give my precious time and energy to someone hell bent on deceiving me. It happened with Nathan, and crawling my way out of another hole isn’t something I’m eager to do again. Ever.
But then CJ flashed his storm-grey eyes at me, earnest and tense with regret.
And now I feel like shit for forcing him into a lie that we’re strangers.
Damn it. How can I demand honesty when I failed to reciprocate?
And avoiding him is impossible thanks to our jobs.
In fact, my first goal as an IDFW wildlife biologist is an overhaul of the winter emergency feeding program, which I was excited about because it meant sparring with Dad, but now CJ will surely be part of that conversation.
And I’m assisting with a multi-agency watershed restoration project starting soon which will definitely involve him.
After yoga, the reprieve of cool air inside the entryway is a balm on my hot skin. “I only have a few minutes for donut holes,” Maryanne says as we head for the stairs, our extra layers bundled under our arms. “So you’d better start talking. In fact, ride with me.”
By the time we pull into Glory Holes, I’ve relayed everything up until when CJ and Dad left for that call last night.
Maryanne shudders. “A dead body?”
“I probably shouldn’t have told you that part.”
She waves me off. “Does your dad deal with that a lot?”
“No, but it’s not the first.”
She coasts to a spot on the street, and we climb out. I zip my fleece jacket all the way to my chin against the cold as we crunch over the snowy parking lot to the entrance.
Inside, Glory Holes is packed with the pre-ski rush—men and women and kids in long underwear and parkas and snow boots.
“God, it smells good,” Maryanne says over the whir of the espresso machine and the snap of paper from the helper filling orders as we crowd inside.
“Heavenly,” I sigh.
“I spy with my little eye.” Maryanne grabs my bicep and pulls me around the corner. “Isn’t that them?”
I peer around the backside of the espresso machine. At the counter, Dad and CJ stand chatting with Miranda, the owner, each holding a large paper cup of coffee. From this angle, CJ’s partially in profile, his full lips parted in an easy smile at something Miranda just said.
“Sweet sassy molassy, he’s hot in a uniform,” Maryanne mutters under her breath.
When we were dancing, I liked CJ’s easy smile, the way it made his face brighten. I liked his laugh, too. And somehow, that he was completely at ease made everything feel more genuine.
CJ salutes Miranda with his coffee and turns to follow Dad.
Too late, I don’t duck out of sight, and his silver eyes catch mine.
My stomach does that annoying jittery flip. Jesus, cowgirl. I force my eyes away. If he’s going to take over Dad’s district, bumping into him like this will become a regular occurrence. Not to mention the meetings we’ll attend, the projects we’ll partner on.
Why the hell couldn’t I have humped some other guy’s leg that night?
The line moves to the corner of the display case just as Dad and CJ shuffle through the crowd. Dad’s eyes light up when he sees me, and I force a smile.
“How was yoga, ladies?” He brings his coffee to his lips.
“Hot,” I croak.
Dad glances at CJ, who is staring at me in a way that’s making my spine buzz.
“Maryanne, this is CJ,” Dad says.
Maryanne cocks an eyebrow. “We’ve—”
I step on her toes, and she thankfully takes the hint. “Nice to meet you, CJ.”
“Well, we’ve got to get going,” Dad says. “Have a good day.” He spins for the door, but to my surprise, CJ leans in, bringing that fresh cotton-and-clove scent right into my senses, and whispers, “You ever wanna not be careful again, do it with me.”
He tucks something into my pocket then gives me a hint of a smile before he turns away and follows my dad.
Maryanne crosses her arms, her eyebrows arched. “What the heck was that?”
After forcing down a tight swallow, I peek at what he tucked into my pocket. It’s a napkin with his phone number scrawled across it in big block letters. I wad it up and shove it back in. “He thinks he knows me, but he doesn’t.”
We shuffle forward in line. “Looks like he’s eager to try,” Maryanne says wryly.
“It’s…awkward, alright?” It comes out testy, and I exhale, puffing my cheeks. “He works with Dad. And soon, he’ll be working with me.”
“Is there some rule about fraternization I’m not aware of?”
I can’t imagine there is, but it’s not like I’ve read the fine print.
“He’s the one with something to lose,” Maryanne insists. “Your dad being his boss and all. But he’s not acting too scared.”
I rub my forehead. Just what I need—my love life compromised by my father.
I think a teeny part of why I got so stuck in my relationship with Nathan is because I was afraid Dad would think that I wasn’t strong enough, smart enough, to take care of myself.
So I hid, and it became even easier for Nathan to isolate me from my family.
But since the breakup, Dad’s been every bit the strong, caring hero I needed.
Even giving me space while I figure things out.
So admitting to him that I’ve gotten cozy with his apprentice makes me feel like a cat in heat. Irresponsible. I can’t stand the thought of losing Dad’s respect. He’s too important to me.
You ever wanna not be careful again, do it with me. Replaying that in my mind should not make me want to pull CJ into the nearest broom closet, but it does. A part of me is intensely keen to find out just what he means by that.
We finally place our order, and after Miranda hands us our bags of donut holes, we step to the side to wait for our coffees.
“So what’s Bear’s story?” I ask to move away from the messy situation I’ve made for myself. “If he’s asking you out, does that mean he’s local?”
“He grew up in McCall. He and CJ and the two other guys were smokejumpers together. Bear’s the only one still doing it though.”
“A firefighter, huh?” I pump my eyebrows. “What’s he do for work in the winter?”
“Skis. He also has a side gig flipping vacation homes. He does all the work himself too.”
I’ve known a few wildland firefighters. It can be a great way to make money in the summers, but the lifestyle is brutal.
Living in temporary camps, being dirty and hungry when you’re not on the line, digging and backburning and working in hellish heat, then spending your one day off face down in your cot, exhausted.
“But he’s thinking of testing with the Finn River Fire Department after next fire season,” she adds with a twist of her lips that is the opposite of nonchalant.
“Where’s he taking you on this date?” I ask.
The barista calls our names for our coffee order. I add a splash of cream to my americano and bring it to my lips for a quick slurp.
“I told him I needed to talk to you,” Maryanne says, snapping a lid to her latte.
I frown. “Why?”
She shoots me a cheeky grin. “Because you and CJ are going to join us.”