Page 8 of Wildfire (Owl Creek #1)

I woke up this morning and saw that Cole had sent me a text asking me to let him know when I was out of bed. I shoot off a quick text back and then hop in the shower. When I get out, another text says breakfast awaits me.

I scramble downstairs and find him in his uniform.

His shirt fits him as if tailored to wrap his muscled arms and chest. Looking away isn't easy, but I am famished.

On the small dining table is a pot of brewed tea and the breakfast I ordered at the restaurant the day before.

I dive into the food like I hadn't eaten a big steak the night before.

I don't know if it's the stress of leaving my family or the car, but I had some bad dreams, and I feel like my body is running on fumes.

"How was your first night of sleep?"

"Not great."

His face screws up in concern.

"It's not because of the apartment. That was great. The bed is super comfortable."

He leans against the counter with his brow furrowed and his arms crossed. I can't help but notice the sinewy strength of his arms again as he stands there waiting for me to tell him what is wrong.

"I had nightmares. Just stress, I think."

"Anything I can do to help?"

"You've done more than enough."

"I packed you a lunch. It's in the truck cab."

I feel the apples of my cheeks heat as a broad smile spreads over my face. "Your mom told me not to bring lunch. Said she was going to make something for both of us."

"Sounds like her."

"Is your whole family like this?"

"Like what?"

"So…I don't know. Kind? Generous?"

"You met my little brother, right?"

"Yeah."

"So we're not all the same. He's a good guy in his heart, but...I think I take after my mom and Buzz more. The twins are…two sides of one challenging coin." He grins with a sparkle in his eye. No matter their relationship, I can see his love for his brothers.

"Is that his real name?"

"Huh?"

"Buzz."

"Don't know."

My mouth falls open. "What do you mean you don't know?"

"I've never seen his driver's license, never heard anyone call him by anything else—just Buzz. And I guess I never thought to ask him. Listen, we better get moving. I've got some things going on at work I need to get a handle on."

I look at his handsome face. He's suddenly serious and seems worried about something.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I just thought maybe I said something wrong."

"No, Wildfire." He squeezes my arm in reassurance, and I notice my body respond with tingles again. "You didn't do anything wrong. Let's get you to work."

We grab my tools from the garage and climb into the truck, driving to Callie and Buzz's place. I am excited to work with her. In my limited experience, there aren't many women carpenters—especially women who build boats.

She is already cutting pieces for the gazebo when we pull down her driveway. I hop out, grab my tools, and wave goodbye to Cole.

"What time should I pick you up?"

"I'll leave my tools here and walk home."

"Okay, what time do you want to eat dinner?"

"I need to go into town and buy groceries, Cole. You can't keep feeding me."

"Whatever you want, but I won't stop feeding you."

He winks and pulls away, and I swear to God, this man might be the nicest person I've ever met.

Four hours later, I realize he's tied for the nicest person I've ever met with his mom.

Even though we work our asses off, we chat the whole time like we're old friends. She tells me stories about all the trouble the twins got in when they were younger, the trouble Caleb still gets in occasionally, and how she and Cole built the house and garage where I'm staying.

And the whole time she talks about her family, the claws that have gripped my gut for years start to release. She's a fierce mama bear wrapped up in a squishy, smiley, gray-haired cuddle package, and I want to climb into her lap and never leave.

Having that thought doesn't even feel like a betrayal to the memory of my own mom. She left me so long ago that I have forgotten what tenderness and the comfort of non-sexual touch feel like.

"You okay, dear?"

I wipe my face, and I realize I have started crying. "Yeah, just got some sawdust in my eyes.”

"Well, I have some safety glasses that provide a little more coverage than yours. Would you like to try those?"

I nod in response, hoping to deflect away from the fact that there isn't anything in my eyes.

A few hours later, we finish up for the day. I'm proud of my work, and I think I impressed Callie, too. As she inspects my work, the look on her face leaves me feeling like I'm on a cloud as I walk back home to Cole's place.

When I get there, music is pouring out of his house. It sounds raw and edgy, which is precisely the music I want to make when I get to Los Angeles.

I knock on his open door just to be polite.

When he turns to look at me, his face breaks out in a wide smile.

His dark hair is a little mussed, and he's wearing an apron with a flour dusting.

The smell of caramelized onions tangles with the heady scent of baked bread.

The scene is a sight for sore eyes, and I get choked up again, just like I had at Callie's.

"Smells good in here. What's this music?

" I stroll over to the stereo so he can't see that a few tears have formed in my eyes.

While pretending to look at his music collection, I mull over the idea that this family is the best thing that could have happened to me with a broken car and nowhere to go.

"It's a local band called Frayed Edge. They're incredible. You'll get to hear them at the kickoff party."

"Kickoff party?"

"The first night of the boat festival is the first official day of tourist season around here. And that band is playing."

"Wow. You know, I had no idea that this town had a tourist season. I know you mentioned it yesterday, but I was wrapped up in my car problems. Why do people come here?"

"Well, for starters, they come for the boats. It's all my mom's fault."

I laugh at that thought. How can he be blaming his mother for a festival? "Your mom's fault?"

"She started the boat festival about two years after we arrived."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. It was just something fun for her to try and feel more welcomed in the community and to give us boys something to do after school."

"Why did she not feel welcomed?"

"That's a story for another day. Want a drink or anything?"

I walk over to the long kitchen island and sit on a high stool overlooking the stove where he is working. "Sure. But I still have questions."

He pours me a whiskey on the rocks and places it in front of me. "What other questions?"

"Number one. Do you need any help cooking? Because there is no way I'm not eating whatever you are making. It smells too good in here."

"You can set the table if you want."

I hop off the stool and set to work. I already know where everything is because I washed and put away all the dishes the night before. And just that knowledge—that I was already comfortable in this kitchen—feels good. It feels warm. Just like being with him feels good.

"Okay, question number two." I walk back over to the stool and sit down, sipping my drink and admiring the view.

Here is a man cooking— for me. I wasn't the one scrambling to put something together for four hungry mouths.

I wasn't the one trying to balance homework or real work and my dad's medicine and cooking meals.

I was being cooked for. Cared for. I was already thinking how much I'd miss this when I got to California.

"What are the other reasons people come here for tourism?"

"Well, we're the gateway to the Empire mountains, some of the best hiking, camping, fishing, and hunting for hundreds of miles.

So people come for long weekends, some come for weeks.

Damn near everyone in this town either has a mother-in-law apartment for rent like mine or is on a waiting list with my mom to have one built just to accommodate the summer inflow.

There are only two motels and a handful of B&Bs in town, which isn't enough.

Some folks have even cleared a little land for mini campgrounds. "

"Are you serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I guess it shows how little news made it my way on the coast."

"You coasties tend to like things the way they are.

The news might cause people to want to change.

" He grins at me like he is teasing, but I know he is right.

Not many outsiders would find their way to our town, and people like it that way.

But it also means that when businesses shut, nothing takes their place.

The town is dying, and I was dying right along with it.

"That's partly why I wanted to leave."

"Partly?"

"Aside from being a singer, I didn't want to spend my life in the backwaters. And here I come to find that a little over a hundred miles and over one minor mountain pass, a town welcomes people every year. You must meet a lot of interesting folks."

He looks at me with puppy eyes, and I feel my body warm in all the wrong places. "Some are more interesting than others."

I can't help but test the waters. It's in my nature to push buttons. "Do you meet a lot of pretty women?"

He chokes on his drink, sets it down, and slowly wipes his hands on his apron. "Caleb has that covered."

"So you've never met a woman you liked who came into town for the summer?"

His eyes slice to mine, and he chews his lip momentarily. It's like watching some sexy hero think about making the moves on the damsel in distress he just saved.

Wait. I'm the damsel.

"There may be one."

"One?" My neck feels hot, and I press the cold glass of whiskey against it to cool off. The timer chirps its alarm, and he pulls his gaze away.

"Dinner's ready."