Getting Married Again

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.” Logan McCall, who had been the best man at Jackson’s wedding, kicked his chair back and strode across the room “Slummin’, Golden? Or did they kick your lazy butt out of Russia?”

Jackson grinned and took two steps before receiving a bone-crunching hug with much backslapping. “I heard the fires were raging back home, so I took the first plane out, Tin Man.” Jackson used Logan’s nickname, bestowed after one particularly disappointed woman publicly proclaimed Logan to be lacking a heart. Logan was a confirmed bachelor who enjoyed women as long as they didn’t expect more from him than a night or two of his company.

“Just in time,” Logan said. “We’re shipping out today. Got us a nice runaway in Wyoming over at Bighorn.”

Like most Hot Shot teams, Silver Bend fought fires anywhere they were needed, from Alaska to Florida. It was dirty, exhausting, dangerous work fighting fires from the ground with little more than a shovel and a Pulaski—a combination ax and hoe. The physical job requirements were so tough, only the strongest passed the arduous work-capacity test. And only the most courageous lasted more than a few seasons.

His gut clenching at the thought of facing flames again, Jackson concentrated on holding on to his smile.

“Have you eaten? The guys would love to hear some stories.” Logan pointed to the table and walked back as if assuming Jackson wanted nothing more than to join them.

Jackson recognized many of the faces there, had trained most of these men. Those who he didn’t know watched him with the eager expressions of novices. Jackson quickly looked away from their curious stares.

Logan introduced Jackson to the newest Hot Shot members, and slid him into a chair facing the kitchen. “Best view in the house,” Logan said with a private grin, as if he, and he alone, were privy to some inside joke.

Someone poured Jackson a cup of coffee.

“Did you teach the Russians how we fight fires…Golden…sir?” This from a fresh-faced boy, introduced as Rookie, who didn’t look old enough to drive, much less shave, although he had the broad shoulders and beefy arms of a seasoned firefighter.

Most Hot Shots kept in shape, but the Silver Bend Hot Shots trained like fiends—lifting weights and running miles across the mountainous ranges in the area to increase their strength and endurance. They had a reputation for the ability to build more fire lines than any other crew, and generally considered themselves the best of the best. Up until last year, Jackson had believed leading the Silver Bend Hot Shots was a job he’d been born for.

“I did teach my Russian crew something.” Jackson only half smiled, trying to ignore the hero worship in Rookie’s eyes as he remembered another eager, young recruit. Unwilling to elaborate, he felt his easy grin slip away as his mind flashed upon that face, filled with terror.

Why did you run, Alek?

The table was oddly silent as everyone waited for Jackson to say more. He took another sip of coffee, unable to talk about what had happened over there. The goofy grin on Logan’s face was starting to wear on his nerves.

He could hear his mother in the kitchen, banging pans and talking to herself. Now would be a good time to excuse himself, greet his mom and ask her what she thought he should do about Lexie.

“They spoke English, did they?” Chainsaw Hudson asked after a bit. Chainsaw carried his namesake into battle. One of the shorter crew members at only six feet tall, Chainsaw was a burly man who was a terror to trees standing in the way of a firebreak.

“Some. I had an interpreter most of the time.”

“A blond-haired, blue-eyed beauty?” Chainsaw waggled his brows suggestively.

Jackson chuckled, thinking of Levka, the pudgy, wrinkled firefighter that had been assigned to the team of U.S. firemen. “Something like that.”

That was just what the crew wanted to hear. Chainsaw slapped Jackson on the back as other crew members pulled their chairs closer. “Gentleman, our boy is definitely back in the dating game. Anyone want to offer him some tips?”

Everyone started talking at once.

Jackson brought his coffee cup to his lips, letting the table’s enthusiasm roll over him unacknowledged. He didn’t want his team to know he was still devastated over his divorce. He’d never live something like that down.

If only he could hide his cowardice as easily.

“I suppose you’ll have lots of stories to tell. Knowing you, they’ll be good ones.” This from Spider, who had a love of scary movies and wore only black when he was off duty.

Jackson didn’t answer. He didn’t plan to tell many stories, especially stories about that last fire. The heat. The smell of fear so pungent you could taste it.

He took another sip of his coffee, trying to drown the gnawing monster of doubt eating away at his gut. The same demon had been his constant companion since the fire. Nothing seemed to keep the demon at bay—not coffee, not alcohol, not exhaustion.

“Seen Lexie yet?” Spider asked, stretching his wiry frame and tipping the chair back on two legs.

His control—already worn down from exhaustion and longing—at its end, Jackson leaned forward. Appearances be damned. “Hell, no, I haven’t seen my wife yet. Why do you ask?”

“But…but,” Spider sputtered. “You’re divorced.”

Jackson stared real hard at Spider.

Spider let his chair fall forward with a solid thunk on the hardwood floor, averting his gaze. “I’m just gonna keep my mouth shut,” he mumbled.

“Jackson!” Mary Garrett gasped before running around the ancient wooden bar of the Painted Pony.

He’d shot up out of his chair upon seeing her, and was ready when she threw herself into his arms.

“I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.” His mother squeezed him tight.

“We finished up a little early,” Jackson replied gruffly, holding his mom close and trying not to remember that he almost hadn’t made it home. He wanted to tell her that he loved her, but he rarely uttered those words, even to Lex—and there was his reputation to consider, with half a team of Hot Shots watching his every move. Instead, Jackson put some distance between them and reached down into his backpack for the gift he’d brought back for her. Awkwardly he thrust a book of Russian fairy tales her way.

His mother ran her fingers over the brightly colored cover, then flipped through the pages. “What fun this will be to read with Heidi,” she said, her eyes bright. With a sigh, she laid the book carefully on the bar.

“Let me look at you and make sure those Russians took good care of you.” His mother studied him. “You were always such a picky eater, and I worried you wouldn’t have anything to eat over there.”

“Mom.” He scuffed his boots against the wood floor as if he were thirteen, not thirty, hearing Logan’s chuckle behind him. His mother often treated him as if he were still in the seventh grade. The only saving grace was that she treated every one of the Silver Bend Hot Shots as if they were in the seventh grade. The Painted Pony was the last place the Hot Shots stopped before leaving to fight a wildland fire, and the first place they gathered when they returned.

His mom gave him the once-over, then peered at his face. “Have you slept at all?”

“Not much.” Jackson still had frequent nightmares about the fire’s advance and continued to carry the emotional scars from his brush with death. It was tough enough for him to fall asleep when he was alone, even harder when he’d been worried that he might wake up screaming or in a cold sweat on an airplane full of strangers.

“It’s a good thing I’m working, then. You can go get some sleep and then take me to dinner tonight.”

“Dinner? I suppose you’ll want to go somewhere nice in Boise and spend all my hard-earned money,” Jackson teased.

His mother’s eyes widened. “Oh, I forgot. I can’t go to dinner with you tonight. Bridge night. Where are you staying? I’ll call you later.”

“Uh…” The question was so unexpected that Jackson stroked his beard as he searched for a tactful reply. “I thought I was staying with you. I don’t have a room at the barracks.” Unless they had a family, Silver Bend Hot Shots bunked down together at a large ranger station up the road.

“Me? Oh, honey, I’m sorry, but you’ll cramp my style.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the kitchen as if concerned something might catch on fire.

“Your style?” He wasn’t welcome in his mother’s house because she was exercising between the sheets? His father died eighteen years ago and his mother hadn’t dated since. In her late fifties, Mary Garrett sported a lined face and the brown mottled complexion of one who enjoyed the outdoor life. Neither slender nor overweight, with short hair turned completely gray, his mother was a bundle of energy, but there was nothing Jackson saw in his mother that someone of the opposite sex would find…well, sexy.

“That’s right.” Her voice was firm and her chin lifted.

What had gotten into his mother? Then she changed the subject on him again.

“Have you seen Lexie?”

Jackson gritted his teeth as he shook his head. “No. Is she working today?” Lexie worked at the Painted Pony during the breakfast shift, as both a cook and a waitress.

“Working?” His mother seemed incredulous. Then she reached up to pat his cheek. “No, honey, not really.”

“Dad?” Heidi appeared at the counter, carrying two mountainous platters of pancakes that wavered when she saw him. She stood frozen in place for a moment, blue eyes filling with tears.

Mary came to the rescue and took the plates from Heidi before she dropped them.

Jackson couldn’t breathe past the sudden lump in his throat at seeing his baby girl, who looked a good inch taller and more like an adult than ever before. At eleven, Heidi was the spitting image of her mother—thick brown hair, bright blue eyes and dimples. Her long ponytail bounced as she ran into his arms. Unable to contain his excitement, he spun her around, then plunked her back on her feet and planted a kiss on her crown.

“I can’t believe you’re back.” Heidi squeezed him again as if reassuring herself that he was real. “It’s been, like, forever.”

Not trusting himself to speak, Jackson just grinned. Heidi was the reason Jackson and Lexie had married before their high school graduation. Lexie had planned on going to college, but the baby had pretty much made that dream impossible. Yet, she’d never once told Jackson she regretted getting married, raising their daughter and abandoning her dreams. They’d wanted to have more children, but the doctors said that Lexie wasn’t able to carry any more babies. That news had broken Lexie’s heart, and eventually, Jackson believed, his marriage as well.

“I almost didn’t recognize you with that beard.” Heidi reached up and tugged gently on his whiskers. “Are beards popular over there?”

“It’s the poor-man’s nose ring,” Logan said, grinning as he loaded up a plate with pancakes.

“Uncle Logan!” Heidi rolled her eyes, then hugged Jackson close. “Wait until I tell Mom you’re home.”

LEXIE IRRITABLY SCRATCHED OUT the figures on the tablet in front of her until the pencil lead snapped. No matter which way she looked at it, she wasn’t going to have enough money this month to pay every bill. She crumpled up the yellow sheet and tossed it in the trash. The money Jackson transferred automatically to her account covered the mortgage and house insurance plus the majority of the grocery bills. It didn’t cover the rest, including the vet bill, and new school clothes for Heidi, who’d grown over the summer.

Lexie shifted in Mary’s chair, trying to ease the pain in her lower back. She’d come over this morning to help Mary feed the departing firefighters and she’d overdone it just a bit. Lexie didn’t regret a few aches. She was just as fond of the Hot Shot crew Jackson used to lead as Mary was. They deserved a little pampering before they risked their lives on a mountain where raging fires sent temperatures soaring above one hundred degrees.

Besides, she needed something to keep her mind off the ticking clock and her mounting bills. When she’d drawn up the divorce settlement, Lexie had been too proud to ask for much money. She’d had a steady paycheck and had thought she could make her own way. That was before she’d had to give up her job at the Painted Pony.

Lexie unfurled herself from behind Mary’s desk and rubbed her back as she headed into the Pony’s kitchen. Not for the first time since the divorce, Lexie wondered if she’d done the right thing. It wasn’t just the money. There was Heidi to consider. Was it fair for Lexie to raise their daughter alone?

Lexie snorted. As if she hadn’t been raising Heidi alone her entire life. Jackson was never home. He was either in another state fighting fires, out somewhere training, or off with his never-ending list of friends. She’d always love Jackson, but their marriage was past the point of salvation. She’d been his housekeeper, his cook and his mistress, but somewhere down the line they’d stopped being friends, stopped being lovers, stopped talking about anything other than his schedule and how he wasn’t going to be around. Finally, Lexie told him not to bother coming home.

Absently, Lexie rubbed her stomach, fighting the slightest twinge of guilt. A year ago, Lexie had discovered she was pregnant. At first, she’d thought the doctors had made a huge mistake; they had told her long ago that she couldn’t get pregnant again. But a miracle had happened—and she had begun to believe that this was the sign she’d been looking for. Her love with Jackson was worth saving.

She’d asked him to meet her for lunch in Boise in a swank little café on the outskirts of the city. Jackson had told her he’d be there after he was done helping a neighbor clear away brush from their house. Lexie had waited an hour before she started to cry.

And then the bleeding started.

Lexie had driven herself to the hospital—alone. Checked herself in—alone. Held herself together throughout the miscarriage when she couldn’t reach Jackson. Then she’d driven herself back to Silver Bend. During the trip home, Lexie had come to realize that she was no longer important to Jackson. This wasn’t the first time Jackson had stood her up, or Heidi, for that matter. How could anyone treat those closest to him—his wife and daughter—so callously? If this wasn’t a sign that their love was unsalvageable, Lexie didn’t know what was.

When Jackson showed up after having missed dinner, with some excuse about a friend’s car not starting, Lexie made her decision. She asked him to move out that night without ever telling him of the child they’d lost.

Lexie sighed, pushing back the guilt. She needed to focus on her current problems, not her past. She’d make it somehow. Just a few more months and things were bound to get better.

The Hot Shot crew in the dining room of the Pony roared with laughter, the raucous sound carrying over the noisy fans in the kitchen. Lexie glanced up from the steaming bowl full of scrambled eggs she’d left on the counter for Mary and Heidi to carry into the dining room minutes before. Something was going on out there. The Silver Bend Hot Shots were such a boisterous, upbeat group that their mood was infectious. Lexie needed some of those positive vibes right now.

She carried the bowl of eggs over to the kitchen window where she could look out on to the dining room. A bearded man with hair touching his shoulders stood with his arms looped around Heidi and Mary, their backs to Lexie. He wasn’t dressed in Hot Shot gear, but the way he stood reminded her of someone. Lexie stretched to put the big, heavy bowl of scrambled eggs up on the shoulder-high countertop, feeling its weight all the way down in her belly. And then he laughed.

It can’t be.

The heavy crock slipped out of her fingers onto the countertop with a sickening crack, splitting the bowl in two and cascading eggs across the counter and onto the floor. Everyone’s head swiveled in her direction, including that of the bearded stranger. Only he wasn’t a stranger. He was the man who still held the key to her heart.

Light-headed, Lexie gripped the counter, grateful that it stood between her and Jackson so that he couldn’t see all of her, couldn’t see that she carried his child.

A child she hadn’t told him about. The child they’d created the night Jackson signed the divorce papers.

Their eyes met and held, making it hard for her to breathe. Having been a firefighter’s wife for so long, she couldn’t resist taking inventory, making sure he was all right. His tall frame was still sturdy. Blue jeans covered his powerful thighs, and his broad shoulders filled a forest-green T-shirt. His sable hair fell uncharacteristically below his ears and brushed his T-shirt collar in the back. A thick, dark beard covered his square jaw, making him look less like the young man she’d married and more like a weary man of the world.

Jackson was safe. She couldn’t think beyond that fact. Firefighters who came home early from assignments weren’t always unscathed. Broken bones. Singed body parts. Eyes so red from bitter smoke that they couldn’t see. But Jackson stood solidly in front of her. Unharmed.

The desire to touch him overwhelmed her. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair, feel the strength of his chest beneath her palms, reassure herself that he was, indeed, home in one piece.

“Are you all right?” Mary darted into the kitchen, gave Lexie the once-over, and then started cleaning up, effectively distracting Lexie from the spell Jackson had put her under.

He may look oh-so-right, but he wasn’t able to love them as a father and husband should. Yet, she couldn’t resist looking at him again.

Jackson’s smile was tentative, his green eyes guarded. It was the first time in a long time that she’d seen him unsure of himself. Oh, he had his weak moments, but Lexie also knew that Jackson hid behind his charm. Few knew he didn’t have the hidden reserves of confidence he’d prefer everyone believed. He certainly had never been anything but upbeat and positive with Lexie through their entire divorce.

“How’re you doing, Lex?” His voice coasted over her like warm honey from across the room.

Lexie licked suddenly dry lips. She should have told him months ago about this baby. He’d know how she was “doing” the minute she stepped out from behind the counter.

The baby thumped against her ribs, trying to capture her father’s attention from deep within the womb.

Heidi hugged Jackson, her joy in seeing her father apparent in her radiant smile. “He’s home, Mom, for good. Just like before. Isn’t it great?”

Jackson’s smile broadened. The Hot Shots at the table were nudging each other and grinning as if this was the best show in town. She supposed it ranked right up there with the time old Marguerite slurped one too many strawberry daiquiris, shimmied into the lap of a highly embarrassed and uninterested Sirus Socrath, the former superintendent of Silver Bend’s Hot Shot crew, and sang “Like a Virgin.”

“Your father is back from Russia, but I’m sure he’s off to fight fires somewhere,” Lexie said, hastening to correct the impression that Jackson was home to stay. It was the height of the fire season and there were several forest fires rampant across the western states. She pasted a smile on her face and looked at Jackson hopefully.

Jackson tugged Heidi’s ponytail, grin firmly in place. “Nope. I’ve taken two weeks off.”

“In the middle of the fire season?” Lexie’s voice cracked on the last word. Any hope she had of keeping her pregnancy a secret from Jackson faded fast. Would he be angry with her? Would he even care?

“Yep. I decided I needed a break, needed to reconnect with my family.” His eyes, dark rimmed as if from lack of sleep, seemed to glow warmly at her, but Lexie was anything but reassured.

“Wow. That’s…” Lexie’s head bobbed as she floundered for something to say, some way to break the news to Jackson gently. She used to be known for her witty comebacks. Now, all she could manage was “That’s… Wow.”

“Aren’t you gonna hug Mom?” Heidi asked, looking innocently up at her father.

One of the Hot Shots chuckled.

“Oh dear,” Mary said, and disappeared into the back room.

Lexie’s eyes narrowed even as her chest heaved. She was being set up by her own daughter, in front of an audience, no less. Emotions warred within her—indignation at being caught off guard and outmaneuvered by an eleven-year-old, anxiety that Jackson might find out how close she was to needing his help, a feeling of relief that Jackson was home safe, the sour guilt of her secret.

The baby slugged her bladder.

Jackson walked closer, his footsteps a slow herald of the moment of truth. Everyone was looking at her now, probably hoping she’d fall back into his arms as if he’d never broken her heart and shattered her dreams of family. Each step Jackson took made Lexie want to shrink back into the kitchen, but she still had enough pride to stand and face him.

CHAPTER TWO

JACKSON FELT about as nervous as the first time he’d asked Lexie out. She looked great. At least the part of her he could see looked great behind the counter. Thick lashes framed wide blue eyes unadorned by makeup. He could gaze into those eyes forever. Her hair, begging to be touched, fell in soft brown waves about her shoulders. Her cheeks were flushed, and there’d been a few moments there when their eyes first connected that he’d been glad he came because of the way she was looking at him, as if she were happy to see him.

Heidi was pushing his luck a little, but heck, if he could get a hug from Lex on day one, that was something, right?

He gave Lex his best “hey, trust me” smile, planning to take this as slowly as she wanted, and entered the kitchen. The sight of her full, lush body made him stop in his tracks.

“You’re pregnant!”

Her face turned bright red. “Yes,” she said through gritted teeth.

Lexie had slept with someone else. The room tilted.

“When did this happen?” Jackson’s eyes bounced around the room from Heidi—argh, don’t ask Heidi—to his Hot Shot buddies—he’d never live this down—to his wife. “How could this happen?”

Lexie ran her hands over the blue T-shirt—his T-shirt—covering her very pregnant belly.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“I tried to tell you the last time you called, Dad, but I don’t think you heard me.” Heidi leaned over the counter and smiled sweetly as if she hadn’t been in on this secret for months.

Jackson tried to remember the conversation Heidi referred to. It took a few seconds for something to click. He dropped his head and shook it slowly from side to side. “You said she was perfect.”

“No, Dad, I said she was pregnant,” Heidi corrected, then had the nerve to look back at the Hot Shot crew and grin.

The men, of course, heard their exchange and roared with laughter. Oh, this was one for the record books, all right.

Jackson struggled to control his emotions. He wanted to throttle whoever had gotten his wife pregnant, or at the very least, punch a wall.

Lexie had slept with another man.

“The ink wasn’t even dry on our divorce.” Jackson’s gaze returned to the floor. He couldn’t bear to look at her. How could she do this to him?

“Heidi, go get yourself something to eat.” Lexie’s voice brooked no argument and Heidi scooted over to the table with the firemen. She was always more inclined to obey Lexie than to listen to him.

Jackson lifted his suddenly heavy head and stared at Lexie, barely able to contain his sorrow. He’d never get her back now. How could he, with this child between them? “You were the only thing…” Jackson let his voice trail off, swallowing thickly. She was the reason he’d found a way out of that fire. She and Heidi had been his reason for living. Lexie was his talisman, for heaven’s sake.

A cold emptiness settled inside of him. He leaned against the kitchen wall, needing support for knees suddenly as limp as spaghetti.