Blowing Smoke: A Small-town Firefighter Gay Romance (The Wilds Book 2) Read online

  “You wanna go see the kitties?” Hunter asks, getting her all riled up until she’s jumping and barking, running ahead, then back because we’re too slow.

  “Doesn’t she realize there are cats in the house?” I ask, confused.

  “That’s not the same,” Hunter says, rolling his eyes like it should be obvious to me. “The cats inside the house don’t care about her at all. The barn cats play hide and seek and give her something to chase. Lots of fun.”

  “Not for the cats,” Ryder mutters.

  Hunter shrugs. “She wouldn’t hurt a fly. Besides, if it came down to it, which it wouldn’t, they’ve got claws and they know how to use them.”

  Right on cue Winnie takes off like a shot. A blur of gray disappears up a tree and Winnie’s tail whips back and forth wildly, what can only be described as a smile stretching her face.

  Ryder shakes his head, then looks dubiously at the leaning barn.

  “What do we need to do to make these shelters?”

  Hunter leads the way in, the only one of us that doesn’t duck through the doorways, looking up at the rafters with suspicion that the whole thing’s going to come crashing down any minute, then stars explaining how we’re going to turn this pile of plastic storage tubs and styrofoam into kitty condos. One big tub, a layer of styrofoam insulation, and a smaller tub nestled inside. Line the whole thing with straw, put the lid on, cut a door through the three layers, and voilà.

  “How many of these do we need?” Ryder asks, sawing away at the plastic.

  Hunter makes a face, then shrugs. “As many as we can do? Each one will house two, maybe three cats. I know there are a lot more out here than I ever see.”

  Ryder shakes his head. “Have you ever heard of animal hoarding?”

  Hunter flips him a middle finger. “I’ve heard of homeless brothers,” he counters.

  “It’s only hoarding if you’re not taking care of them properly,” I offer gently, trying to broker some peace. “I’ve answered a couple of hoarding calls. Trust me, Hunter’s not a hoarder.”

  I barely suppress a shudder at the memories. Some smells just never leave you.

  “Thanks,” Hunter says, sending a little smile my way. It’s sweet and subtle, but for no particular reason, it hits me.

  Here I am on a day off, helping him with his to-do list, hanging out with his brother, laughing at his goofy dog trying to climb the barn walls, and I realize I’ve never felt like this before. Like I’m a part of something. A part of his life.

  I got a little taste of that kind of closeness and camaraderie when I was in the Navy, and there’s some of it in the force too, but this is more. This is a feeling of home that I’ve never had before.

  And suddenly that makes me realize how much I have to lose here. Hunter’s my best friend, my main support structure in life. Losing him would be devastating. And it could happen so easily. What if he just decided he doesn’t want me anymore? He’s had his fun.

  What if I’m more like my parents than I want to admit, and I wind up broken-hearted and bitter? Lonely and lost.

  I swallow back those fears, refusing to dwell on them. Refusing to give anxiety real estate in my mind.

  By the time we work through all the storage bins he’s got, there’s a dozen shelters for the strays that call this barn home, and the sun is on its way down. One look at the time confirms my suspicions: there’s no way I’ll make it into town before the pharmacy closes now. I’ll just have to pick up my refill tomorrow.

  “Didn’t you have some errands you wanted to run?” Hunter asks as we’re headed back down toward the house, Winnie trudging along behind. She’s totally wiped out from all the fun and excitement and keeps trying to lay down in the snow for a breather.

  I shrug, giving Winnie a nudge with my toe. “C’mon,” I encourage. “They can wait.”

  Hunter gives me a slow smile. “Oh good, I was worried you’d miss dinner.”

  “Not a chance. You promised me the best lamb stew I’ve ever had,” I tease, reminding him of our conversation last night when he was loading up the slow cooker.

  “Shoot, you’re not supposed to remember my bragging,” he laughs, nudging Winnie, who’s laid down again. “We’re almost home, girl. Maybe if you ask nicely someone will build a fire for you.”

  “For her, huh?” I tease, nudging him.

  Hunter grins. “Oh yeah, one of Winnie’s favorite things is relaxing in front of the fireplace with a hot toddy,” he says, almost managing a straight face. It’s close, but he cracks, then I do too, both of us laughing all the way inside.

  The stew is pretty fantastic, and after dinner Ryder heads to the apartment, leaving us to cuddle in front of the fire with our drinks.

  At some point, snow starts to fall, and I’m glad for all the work we got done today to make sure the animals stay warm. I’m glad for the man beside me, that we’re safe from the elements and wrapped up in each other’s arms, and I couldn’t imagine anything being better than this.

  “I’m really glad you’re here,” he says, leaning into my side a little more, snuggling in with a shoulder wiggle.

  “Me too,” I tell him, kissing the top of his head. I realize I don’t ever want to leave, but something stops me from saying it. Why put more on this moment than it needs? Everything is already perfect. Isn’t it?

  Chapter 8

  Hunter

  Even though I’m not jumping out of airplanes in the off-season, that doesn’t mean I’m sitting around all the time with my feet up in front of a fire relaxing.

  Quite the opposite, actually.

  It’s the off-season for jumpers and wildland guys, but for the regular firefighters in town, winter is when things really start to pop off. People do crazy things to stay warm once the snow really starts packing in and we’ve got to be prepared for it.

  Until spring, I’m with these guys, helping to pick up the slack where I can. They need all the help they can get.

  Today we’re having a meeting with the local EMTs, setting out our game plan for the coming storm. We’ve had a few flurries here and there already, but what’s coming is going to make all that look like a walk in the park.

  There’s a map projected up on the wall, taken directly from the national weather service.

  It’s funny, you go into a job like this expecting to learn a lot about fires. Most guys don’t realize they’re also going to become amateur meteorologists. We don’t need anyone up there explaining what the front coming in means for us.

  For about a week there’s been a winter storm hovering out over the Aleutians. We’ve gotten some outside squalls with the flurries, but for the most part, Gateway has been spared.

  All of that changes with this low pressure system moving into town. It’s going to suck that storm right over here and amplify it. Sleet, hail, crazy wind, and buckets and buckets of snow.

  “We’ve got about six hours before it’s bad enough out there we can’t see,” says Dane, clicking over from the weather map to one of the town. “There aren’t many tourists left in town, but we need to encourage them to leave as quickly as possible or they might wind up stuck here a lot longer than they bargained for.”

  “I’ll get Caleb to check everyone out of the cabins and send them on their way,” Tanner says. The Wilds has become one of the biggest tourist draws in town, especially with the fall festival thing they had recently. Of course fall doesn’t last too long around here. A few weeks maybe. Can’t blame the tourists for not knowing any better, we just have to do what we can to help them get out of town safely.

  “We need to make sure we’re on top of reporting any road hazards, too,” one of the EMTs says. “PD is on stand-by to direct traffic or give escorts where needed. We all just need to work together and we’ll get through this.”

  It’s not until he says that that I realize how tense the room is. None of us are strangers to how quickly the weather can turn, how dangerous it can be to get caught unprepared.

  And we all know th
ere’s a very good chance we won’t be able to help everyone. We always lose someone—a heart attack chopping wood, carbon monoxide poisoning, freezing from lack of power—there are too many ways for winter to claim victims, especially in people with pre-existing health problems.

  There are a few more words of encouragement, then we break off into teams, everyone already with a plan of action ready to go. There’s a lot to do and not nearly enough time. Everything we’re trying to accomplish to storm-proof is in addition to answering the calls that are already pouring in. A gas leak, a kitchen fire, an accident on icy roads. There’s no time to think about anything except what’s right in front of me, no time to even stop to catch my breath.

  By the time my shift is over, I feel like I’ve run a marathon. I feel like I was at work for three days and I didn’t sleep for any of them.

  The snow is already coming down hard, and I wish I’d managed to get off work about an hour earlier when visibility wasn’t so bad. But at least I know I’ve got Jared and the menagerie waiting for me at home. A snug warm house with leftover soup for dinner sounds like heaven right now while I’m cold and soaked in my truck, heat on full blast. All it’s doing is making my face hot and fogging up the windshield, so I cut it off, letting the cold seep in deeper. I’ll be home soon.

  I’m glad for all-wheel drive as I coax the truck up the drive to the farmhouse. There’s a layer of ice under the snow that’s making it tough to get traction, but once the tires get down to gravel I get moving again.

  Winnie charges at me the moment I’m inside, jumping excitedly while I’m trying to strip off my outer layers.

  “Yes, yes, I’m happy to see you too,” I chuckle, petting her before I kick off my boots. “Where’s Jared?” I ask her, tilting my head to one side. She mirrors the expression, tongue hanging out.

  His shift was over an hour before mine. He should be here by now.

  My stomach twists, my eyes looking back toward the blizzard on instinct.

  “Let’s call him,” I mutter, scratching behind Winnie’s ears.

  The phone rings twice, anxiety rising, and then his voice answers, a wave of relief rushing through me.

  “Hey, sorry I’m not home,” he says. He sounds tired, as ragged as I feel. “Hudson’s wife went into labor and I didn’t want to call someone else in to cover for him. I’m already here.”

  “I wish you were here,” I say, trying not to pout, but it’s hard. I was really looking forward to some cuddling by the fire. Now I have to worry about him being out in this mess.

  “I know, me too. But I’ll be home as soon as I can, okay? Stay warm and keep the cats company for me,” he teases.

  “They don’t like me nearly as much as they like you,” I grumble, but I’m smiling. He always knows what to say to make the situation less dire.

  “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

  “Yeah, stay safe,” I say, lingering on the line. I don’t want to hang up, but I know he has work to do. The line clicks out, and I’m cold inside, the silence overwhelming.

  Winnie’s cold, wet nose presses into my palm. Angel cries ‘peekaboo!’ from the other room, and from the corner of my eye, I see a fluffy gray tail slide into the kitchen.

  At least there’s plenty to do to distract myself.

  After I feed the animals and have a bowl of soup by myself—no idea where Ryder is; I’m his brother, not his keeper—I start up some chili for tomorrow and then turn my attention to cleaning.

  I know Jared’s trying, and I’m working on being less particular about things, but I still find myself reorganizing cabinets after he’s been in them, picking up his toothbrush off the counter, cleaning the toothpaste specks off the mirror, silly things. I know it’s not a big deal, but if I ignore the little things, soon I’ll be letting him leave the shower curtain all bunched up and it’ll be covered in mildew. It’s a slippery slope is what I’m saying.

  Though, to be honest, I have to look for things to clean in the bedroom. I’m on the floor, looking under the bed when I hit the jackpot of forgotten socks and trash that didn’t make it to the can or was retrieved by a certain someone. Among that trash is a prescription bottle—Jared’s. It’s empty, but I’m sure he’s gotten the refill. Like he said, he’s been taking this stuff for years.

  Still, seeing the bottle reminds me that he’s not as invincible as he seems. My big strong police chief still has some weaknesses, and not worrying is impossible. He wouldn’t like me bringing it up, though. I learned that lesson already.

  I clean some more, take Winnie outside, then come in to start getting ready for bed. While I’m putting the chili away for the night, I spot Jared’s inhaler on the counter, hiding behind the pitcher that holds all my spatulas and big spoons.

  “Damn it, Jared,” I mutter, pulling it out. It’s wedged between the pitcher and the toaster and I don’t even know how long it’s been there. I don’t know if he has a spare. I’m sure he’ll be fine, but now all I can think about is him out in the blizzard, not being able to breathe.

  I have to call him. Does he even realize he doesn’t have it?

  This time the phone rings four times before I hear static and, “’Lo?”

  “Hey—”

  “Hunt—bad signal—storm—”

  “I’m only getting every other word,” I tell him, chest constricting. Cell service is spotty on the best days around these parts. Right now it would take a miracle for us to get a clear call. “You left your inhaler here,” I say, hoping he can hear me better than I can hear him.

  “Is this… better?”

  “A little,” I answer, frustrated with technology, and weather, and Jared not having his inhaler, and Hudon’s baby coming today of all days. “You left your inhaler here,” I repeat.

  “I know,” I hear. “—fine. Don’t worry.”

  “I could… bring it to you,” I offer, even though I know it’s a stupid idea. Going anywhere in this weather that isn’t absolutely necessary is just making more work for the first responders who are gonna have to dig me out.

  “Stay… you are. Got a call… elderly… escort. Leaving now,” he says, each broken word making me more frustrated with the whole situation. I just want to hear his voice for real now. To have him next to me, his words melting right into my ear.

  “Be careful,” I say, knowing there’s nothing else I can do. He’s the chief of police, he’s going to help people. That’s what they do. It sounds like there’s an old person that needs someone to help them to safety. Lots of people further out from town lose power in storms like this. If they don’t have a generator—or more likely, fuel for it—they’re going to be very cold, very quickly. We try to discourage anyone from driving in these conditions, but especially older folks who might not have the greatest reaction time or vision. Jared being able to escort this person might just save their life.

  Doesn’t mean I stop wishing he was here with me instead.

  “Gotta go,” Jared’s voice says, garbled through the terrible reception, but even so, I can tell he’s tired. His voice is hoarse, he’s been on shift for over twelve hours now and it’s not an easy shift by any means. I wish there was something I could do for him, but there isn’t.

  I leave the inhaler on the counter in plain sight, and mope my way into the living room to put Angel to bed. It’ll be all right. It has to be, so that’s the only option.

  Chapter 9

  Jared

  This has possibly been the longest day of my life.

  I knew it would be bad before it ever got started, but it went from bad to worse and never improved from there.

  The snow started early; that was the first big catastrophe. It came in harder and faster than anyone was expecting and we scrambled to play catch-up all day long.

  The roads are an absolute mess and I’m dreading making the drive back to Hunter’s place, but I can’t wait to fall into bed beside him. I know he’s probably been worried out of his mind all night and I didn’t help things by staying late
and being fairly unreachable. He’ll understand though. That’s the thing with guys like us. We understand what needs to be done and don’t hold it against someone. Miss a big event because there was a fire? Everyone gets it. Forget a birthday investigating a big case? Almost expected. It’s not intentional, but when you’re practically wired to serve, there’s really no hope of turning that off.

  “You finally getting out of here, boss?” Cody asks, eying me up and down, his brow scrunched.

  “Yeah, for a little while at least,” I say, voice cracking. I cough, my throat sore and swollen.

  Cody looks more suspicious. “You feelin’ all right?”

  I wave him off. “Just too much time in the snow,” I mutter. When I swallow, I feel it though. My nodes are swollen and painful—sickness is setting in.

  “Yeah, well take it easy and drive safe out there,” he says, knowing better than anyone not to argue with me. I can be stubborn when I want to be.

  I turn around, dipping back into my office for just a second before I leave. Just long enough to grab a dose of over-the-counter cold medicine I keep for times like this. Hopefully it’ll have time to kick in by the time I get to Hunter’s. I can’t let him think I’m getting sick. He’d lose his damn mind with worrying over me, I just know it.

  He’s always been nurturing in an almost overbearing way, but he really ramped it up once we started sleeping together. Guess he figures I can’t get too mad at him now.

  It’s not that I was ever really angry about him pestering me about taking my meds; I was more worried for what it meant for us. What it says about our relationship that he’s so concerned about my well-being. That’s silly, I know. Even without a relationship, we’re best friends. Of course we care about one another not dying.

  The drive back to his place is long. I’m in the cruiser, windshield wipers at full speed, lights barely cutting through the sheet of white. At one point I turn the radio on, but I quickly cut it off. It’s distracting. I feel like I need the silence to see. I keep my phone on the charger the whole drive, just in case something happens I don’t want to be running out of battery. I want Hunter to be able to call me if he needs to.