Facing the Fire. Gail Barrett
and bent his long frame to climb in the Jeep. He froze with a rough gasp of breath.
And suddenly, it hit her. No wonder he wanted a ride. He was injured—and badly, if it had made him leave his job. The job he’d loved more than her.
She quickly moved behind him. “Can I help?”
“No.”
“But your arm—”
“It’s fine.”
Uncertain, she stepped back. He pulled himself inside the Jeep and awkwardly reached for the door.
“Here, let me—” She started to close it, but his hard stare stopped her cold. “Fine.” She lifted her hands and backed off, then stalked to the driver’s-side door. Let him fend for himself if he was too proud to accept any help.
Too proud or too bitter?
She slid behind the wheel and braved a glance at the man slumped beside her. His skin looked ashen beneath the grime, his profile strained. The faint scent of wood smoke permeated his clothes.
She shook her head. Why would he be angry? He was the one who’d abandoned her. He’d flown off with that booster crew to Alaska, just when she’d needed him most.
She blocked off a swell of resentment. It didn’t matter anymore. Their marriage was over, and had been since the day he’d left for refresher training.
Besides, she had her life in Virginia now—a good one, too, including a man who’d never leave her. All she had to do was drive Cade back to Missoula and then she’d never see him again.
She inhaled deeply, cranked the engine to life and slowly released the clutch. The Jeep lurched forward, hit a downed branch, and jostled sideways.
She glanced at Cade. The grooves deepened around his mouth and his skin paled even more. “Are you going to be okay?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
Her nerves tightened. Maybe he was all right, but she had a feeling this was going to be the longest six hours of her life.
The Jeep had stopped moving. Disoriented, Cade forced open his eyes and blinked hard to clear his blurred vision. They were parked in the middle of the narrow dirt road, surrounded by towering pines. The driver’s door hung open and the warm wind ruffled a paper napkin on the console. Jordan was nowhere in sight.
He lifted his hand to rub his eyes, then froze as pain sliced his shoulder. Damn. That tree had slammed him good. His skull vibrated like the two-stroke engine of a chain saw, and his entire body felt pummeled.
He glanced at his watch, then slumped back against the seat and shut his eyes. They’d only been driving for a few minutes. He’d either passed out or fallen asleep as soon as they’d left the cabin.
But where was Jordan? And why weren’t they moving? He jerked his eyes open again. This was a hell of a time to take a break. They needed to get out of here before the wind picked up and pushed the fire to the road.
Stifling a groan, he reached over with his left hand and shoved his door open, then swung out his legs and stepped down. Dizziness swamped him, and he hung on to the door to catch his balance. Several breaths later, the ground steadied and he slowly straightened.
“Don’t shut the door,” Jordan said, her voice low.
Startled, he turned toward the back of the Jeep. Jordan knelt in the road facing the woods. His gaze followed the curve of her slender back to the lush flare of her hips. Her faded blue jeans were covered with dust.
“What are you doing?”
“Sshh.” She rose to her feet and backed toward him. “I’m trying to catch a dog.”
“What?”
“Quiet! You’ll scare him off.”
He frowned at the bowl of water she’d set on the road next to what looked like pieces of sandwich. He followed her line of vision to the trees but couldn’t see anything.
He massaged his eyes. “How long ago did we stop?”
“I don’t know. Maybe fifteen minutes.”
“Fifteen minutes?” Hell. They were far too close to the cabin. “Listen—”
“Shh. Here he comes.”
A clump of ferns edging the road swayed, and then a dog slunk out. At least he thought it was a dog. It was the scrawniest thing he’d ever seen, with wary, desperate eyes set in a gaunt face hollowed by hunger.
“I almost hit him,” she murmured. “He was sitting right in the road.”
The dog limped closer, favoring his right front paw, then stopped several yards away. Trembling, his tail tucked to his belly and dark ears flattened, he again inched cautiously forward. His eyes darted from them to the food and he let out a pitiful whine.
“I thought he was a coyote at first,” she said, her voice low.
“Coyotes are fatter than that.”
“That’s why I decided he was a dog. Either he’s lost or someone dumped him off in the forest. As if a pet can survive out here by instinct.”
Her indignation didn’t surprise him. She’d always had a soft spot for animals, even wild ones. When they’d lived at the cabin, she’d hung bird feeders in the woods and set salt licks out for the deer.
He turned his attention back to the dog, who was creeping toward the food. He was some sort of shepherd mix, with a matted, tawny coat and dark gray mask and ears. The dog reached the food and stopped. Then suddenly, he bolted back to the woods.
Cade glanced at his watch again. “Okay, let’s go.”
“Go?” Jordan frowned. “But what about the dog?”
“He’ll eat as soon as we leave.”
“And then what? Where’s he going to get more food?” She planted her hands on her hips. The motion tightened the white T-shirt over her breasts. “You saw how skinny he is. And he needs to get to a vet. That front paw doesn’t look good.”
“We don’t have a choice. We need to get out of here before that front hits.”
“But we can’t just leave him here alone.”
That figured. She cared more about leaving a stray dog than she once had about her husband. “For God’s sake—”
“Forget it, Cade. I’m not leaving that poor dog behind. He’s already been abandoned once, and believe me, that’s enough for anyone.” Her dark eyes flashed. “Not that you’d understand that.”
Not that he’d understand what? “What the hell does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“The hell it doesn’t.” His irritation surged.
She lifted her hands and sighed. “All right, fine. I’ll tell you. It’s just that you’re always flying off and traveling somewhere. Having adventures and putting out fires. You don’t know what it’s like to be left behind, to be sitting at home waiting, day after lonely day. But I do. And believe me, I’m not doing that to the dog.”
He stared at her in disbelief. “What are you talking about? You’re the one who left me.”
“Only because you’d already gone.”
Incredulity flooded through him. He would have laughed if his ribs didn’t ache so much. “Hell, that’s rich. You walk out without even a note. I come home to an empty house and a goddamn letter from your lawyer. And you accuse me of abandoning you?”
“You went to Alaska.”
He stared at her. “I was working. Earning money. You know, trying to support my wife?”
Her brows rose.