Chapter Fifteen
NOAH’S TRUCK GROANED to a stop beside his cabin, the engine ticking as it cooled in the mountain air. Two thirty a.m. and he could still taste smoke on his tongue, feel the phantom heat of flames against his face.
Saturday night had come and gone as the moon reminded him how many hours he’d worked to save Midtown Service.
The initial scene had been chaos. Plumes of ominous gray smoke billowed from crumpled plywood, pines engulfed in flames.
Amid the melee came cries for help at every octave, a disjointed band of fire engine horns, and the thud of heavy boots moving equipment.
Within a matter of minutes, smoke and flame formed a dense wall, creating a labyrinth of hazards for victims and first responders.
His shoulders ached from hauling equipment, his gear bag weighing twice what it should after fourteen hours of fighting a fire that had consumed half the trailer park before they’d gotten it under control.
He sat for a moment, hands still gripping the steering wheel.
The body aches went deeper than muscles; every bone vibrated with a weariness that would require a full day of lights out.
Silence washed over him. No radio chatter.
No shouted commands. No propane tanks threatening to blow.
Just the whisper of wind through the forest and the distant murmur of water trickling over stones and roots.
It settled his body as thoughts of Rachel burned in his mind.
What was he thinking… battling with her best friend?
Of all the foolhardy efforts to win the girl, that had to be his least cerebral.
He’d done one thing right before the clock struck midnight.
During extra hours on the scene, he helped his crew decontaminate their outer gear with the blue dishwashing stuff, appropriately named the light before sunrise.
That stuff cut through soot, ash, and stubborn food stains.
Many hands made for efficient returns home—to a girlfriend who clung to her cell phone all night, wives who worried by the glow of the television, and kids who were allowed to stay up past their bedtimes to see Daddy walk through the door.
Noah refused to focus on what he lacked.
Movement on his porch caught his eye.
A shadow detached itself from the darkness near his front door, materializing into the shape of a woman rising from the wooden steps. Long red hair caught the moonlight, a sketch pad or maybe a notebook under her arm.
Rachel.
She had waited for him. In the dark. At his cabin.
Noah’s heart stuttered against his ribs.
He jolted out, his rounded shoulders protesting the deliberate straightening of his spine, the very lift of his head.
Soot and exhaustion made his thoughts sluggish, but seeing her there—heavens, seeing her there—sent electricity racing through his veins.
Her sketch pad or maybe a notebook under her arm thudded to the ground seconds before she launched, all limbs and wild hair, at him.
Her scent—mountain spring water and pineapple—hit him a second before her body did.
Noah locked his arms around her waist, holding on to the person who could give him strength in this moment of weakness.
Toned arms circled his neck. Her white tank top hugged her modest breasts, but the cut-off jeans showed her award-worthy derriere.
Was this the rapture? ’Cause he never wanted to touch the ground.
“You’re alive,” she said, her voice carrying across the small clearing. Not a question. A statement of relief so profound it hit him like a physical blow. Not waiting on him to answer, she planted kisses on his cheek, his mouth, his nose.
“Last I checked,” he rasped, his vocal cords swollen and sore from smoke inhalation. He was more than alright. His world felt perfect. “Though I’m starting to wonder if I’m hallucinating from smoke inhalation.”
She laughed, a sound caught between humor and something that might have been tears. “No hallucination. Just me, being…” She gestured vaguely at the porch, at herself, at the late hour. “I don’t know what I’m being.”
“You’re being… mine,” he began, looking down at her. Even in the darkness, he could see the worry etched in the lines around her eyes, the way she held herself like she was afraid to move too quickly. “That’s more than I expected.”
“I watched from the roof for a while. Searched for your headlights.” She swept her forefinger over her cheek, tucking an invisible errant strand of hair behind her ear, a nervous gesture he remembered from their teenage years.
“Thought maybe… I don’t know. That you might want to know someone was glad you made it home. ”
The simple words undid something in his chest. Not someone. Rachel. After years of her keeping him at arm’s length, here she was, admitting she’d been watching for him. Waiting.
“I’m glad,” he said. This close, he breathed her in—sweet layered with heat that had nothing to do with smoke and everything to do with Rachel. “Though you didn’t have to wait up for me.”
“Yes, I did.” The certainty in her voice surprised them both. She looked away, toward the tree line. “I heard about the propane tank. The explosion.”
“Mr. Wanakee and his family were transferred to Whynot Medical for smoke inhalation, but we got them out in time. Lost about a dozen homes, though. Acres burned.” The homes lost saddened Noah, but the people mattered most. A few days of rest and Mr. Wanakee and his daughter would be back at the Main Street barbershop, talking to any and all passersby.
“Oh, thank God. I was afraid we’d lose the entire park. We should reconsider how to address housing with the updated redevelopment plan.”
“Yeah… yeah, good idea.” He nodded, wanting to change the subject to their kiss. He watched as she drank in his features. He’d showered, but the smell of smoke clung to him. She didn’t shy away.
Not his Six.
“So earlier, you kissed me.”
She nodded. “I did.”
Noah had a genuine appreciation for bold women.
But, in Rachel’s case, he’d waited, what felt like a lifetime, to handle his business.
That being pleasing her. Some thought he had more practice than most. He let them think what they would, ’cause at this very moment, holding the girl who’d challenged him since his sixth birthday, a thread of uncertainty snaked a hot trail of perspiration up his spine.
“I’ve been waiting a long time to give you a proper kiss.” Rachel tilted her head, the motion slight. Had he moved too fast? Misinterpreted her kiss? But then she angled her face up, eyes daring, yet surrendering, in one powerful motion.
“Show me what you got, Noah Calvary.”
His breath hitched. The moment he’d dreamed of, holding her, had arrived. Noah lowered his head. “Got everything you need, Six,” he whispered.
The kiss. The first contact. The first sigh that slipped from her parted lips quenched a thirst that ran as deep as the river flowed.
A flame fanned by passion built on years denied.
He slid between her full lips, exploring, marking, melting ice with fire.
The taste of her, sweet and plump, burst on his tongue.
The candle burning in his chest guided him deeper until she released a moan that curled around him, enrapturing them in yearning and satisfaction.
And he repeated what he’d done, stroking slow and sweet, giving more than he took.
She was everything he remembered—demanding, generous, bold, and a perfect match for his passion.
When the kiss ended, he tightened his hold.
“You look tired.”
He chuckled. “Not what I expected to hear after a kiss like that.”
“I meant to say, don’t start anything we can’t finish.”
They’d reached the front door. She hadn’t indicated she wanted down, so he kept her in his arms. “Did you go inside?”
She shook her head. “No. I didn’t try the door.”
“This is Service. The door’s always open.”
She smirked in his arms, her discomfort with the topic becoming less apparent as seconds ticked by.
“I know,” she whispered. “You’ve been a bachelor a long time. Guess I didn’t want to be surprised by her things.”
Noah placed his hand on the doorknob. He felt her muscles tense. “I wouldn’t hurt you like that, Six. You coming inside? I’ll make coffee, feed you…”
It wasn’t a question… not really. More of a clarification of what would happen next. It would take more than death to hold him back if she tried to leave.
“Noah.” Her hand covered his on the knob, stopping his nervous ramblings. “You’re exhausted. There’s no need to play host.”
But he wanted to. Because this was the first time she’d entered his cabin, inside the space he’d built with forever in mind. Every beam, every window, every carefully chosen detail had been selected with the hope that someday she might walk through that door.
“You waited for me to come home. I don’t mind serving you,” he said, thinking about what might come afterward. “Besides, I want you to see inside.”
He meant more than the four walls on the other side of the door. Rachel’s sudden intake of breath told him she knew the truth, too. Something shifted in her expression, a recognition of what he was offering. “Are you sure?”
Instead of answering, he turned the knob and pushed open the door. “Yep. I promised a cabin by the water.”
“And a Calvary man keeps his word.”
“I do,” he said, carrying his Six over the threshold and closing the door on the world. For the first time, his house felt like a home, a second chance of endless possibilities.
Once inside, he reluctantly lowered her booted feet on the cowhide area rug. Instantly, he regretted letting her go, missing her heat and scent. The interior was bathed in soft moonlight streaming through the large windows he’d positioned to catch the morning sun rising over the plunge pool.
“Wait here. I’ll grab your drawings.”