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With the first fire of the season now
contained to a very small area, Rick and Callie drew the task of mop-up. Though
tedious, mop-up was as necessary and vital as the initial attack on a fire. If
all the embers were not extinguished, the fires could re-ignite. Even so,
checking for the hidden embers was Rick's least favorite part of the job.
Callie didn't talk much. As far as Rick
could tell, she hadn't budged an inch from her stand that on the evolutionary
scale, Rick ranked somewhere below an amoeba.
He considered trying to tell her the
truth about why he'd left her, but he knew she wouldn't believe him. And she'd
told him she wasn't interested. Better to start over, except she didn't seem
interested in starting anything with him. Anything but an argument.
"Call it," Callie told him, holding out
a coin.
"For what?" He parked his shovel over
his shoulder and looked at her.
"Spotting." She didn't add, 'you
idiot', but she might as well have.
Unfazed, Rick grinned at her. "Heads,"
he said as she flipped it.
"Tails. I spot first." Callie settled
back to watch. "This is the part that gets a lot of rookies," she said as he
bent down and started shoveling. "They don't pay attention to what they're doing
and -- bang -- a widowmaker gets 'em every time."
He raised his head to look at her.
"That's all right, I'm not married."
"Surprise, surprise."
"You know, Killer," Rick said, throwing
dirt on the base of the tree, "I'm getting downright sick of your not-so-subtle
insults."
"What a shame. I'll be sure to remember
that." She watched him a moment. "You missed a spot."
"Can it, Kilpatrick, I know what I'm
doing." He didn't have her experience, but he wasn't a total novice.
Eventually they switched places. Rick
crossed to the next tree to search for hot spots, glancing at Callie when she
started digging. A loud pop drew his attention to the tree behind her. In frame
by frame slow motion, the fir begin its fall.
Instinctively Rick tackled her, pushing
her out of harm's way. Tremors shook the ground. Rick raised his head as an
ash-filled puff of air brushed his face. He realized the tree had landed a lot
farther away from them than he'd expected. His heart pounding with exertion and
lingering fear, he lay on top of Callie, crushing her beneath him. He turned his
head and gazed down at her.
She stared back at him, her mouth
opening without a sound emerging. Finally she gasped, "What the hell are you
doing?"
Realizing from the strained sound of
her voice that he'd knocked the wind out of her, Rick frowned. "You might
express a little gratitude, Killer."
"Gratitude? For knocking me down?"
"That snag--" he nodded over at the
fallen tree "--was aimed at your head." He wondered when his heartbeat would
settle down. He looked into her face again and realized he lay cradled between
her legs, like a lover. For a minute, he forgot why they were there. His eyes
locked on hers before his gaze fell to her mouth, to the full lips parted so
invitingly, so enticingly near, and his head began a slow descent.
"Get off." She squirmed underneath him,
jerking him to abrupt awareness.
"Pardon me, Kilpatrick." Gritting his
teeth, he wished she'd stop wiggling against him. "Don't worry, you just don't
do it for me anymore."
"That's not what it feels like." Her
mouth shut with an audible snap.
He would have laughed, except he felt
more like cursing. They both wore their work clothes -- fire-resistant green
pants and yellow shirts, heavy gloves and boots. Tired, cranky, filthy, he lay
on top of her after saving her life. Okay, maybe that was a little strong, but
the snag had looked like it would land on her. And no matter how inappropriate,
he had a hard-on she couldn't possibly miss.
"It's a perfectly natural male reaction
to lying between a woman's legs, sugar. Any woman's legs, especially when she's
moving like you are."
Immediately she ceased all motion. It
didn't help. He knew he wasn't lying between any woman's legs, he was lying
between Callie's, and it felt better than it had any right to. Heaving himself
off of her, he stood without offering her a hand.
Callie scrambled to her feet and
stalked over to the next tree. Rick couldn't have sworn to it, since she
wouldn't look him in the face, but he thought her eyes looked suspiciously
bright. He felt like a jerk, but he'd about reached his limit with her attitude.
For God's sake, he knew he'd hurt her, but he'd had no other choice. Nine years
was a long time to hold a grudge.
"Got a lot of men after you, baby? You
must, since you were so sure I was going to hit on you."
"Shut up, Montana." Callie bent to
shovel another load of dirt onto a smoldering tree trunk.
"There's Bader, I know." She ignored
him and he added, "He mentioned you shot him down. I don't think you want to
know what he said about you. It's not fit for female ears. But then, I guess
you're more like one of the guys now, aren't you?" Callie didn't answer, she
only moved to the next tree. "I could've told him it was useless. You've just
buried all your femininity under a layer of good old feminism, haven't you,
sugar? Gotta be tough to be a firefighter."
She threw a shovelful of dirt in his
face.
He shut up after that.
Excerpt from FULLY ENGAGED, copyright 2001 by Eve Gaddy,
Harlequin Superromance #962, January 2001.
You can order from Eve Gaddy's currently
available titles at Author,
Author! or Amazon.
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