Where He Belongs

The minutes stretched in thick silence. Then, without warning, she felt the muscles of his back flex and his tension rise again.

“He had a damn DNR in place,” he said suddenly, his deep voice rough with anger. “An order not to resuscitate. Hell. I had to sit there and let him die.”

She tightened her grip, sensing the horror, the pain he’d endured. Wade lived in constant action—flinging himself into the slipstream, leaping into forests to battle fires. Sitting by helplessly while Norm died would have driven him out of his mind.

But Norm had made that decision and there’d been nothing Wade could do. “He’d been in a lot of pain,” she said. “He probably felt it was time to go.”

Wade retreated into silence. Minutes lengthened, along with the shadows in the room. Finally she heard him exhale. He understood, but needed time to process the grief.

And she’d done all she could. She eased her hold and stepped back. He turned to face her and she saw the despair in his eyes.

Sorrow clawed at her chest. She wanted so badly to take care of this man, to erase the grief from his heart. She’d give anything to have that right.

But she didn’t. She was just an old friend. She stepped even farther away. “Are you hungry?”

“No.” His voice was gruff and threaded with sadness. “But thanks.”

He peeled off his jacket and tossed it on the wing chair near the dresser, then sat on the bed and removed his boots. When he dropped back on the bedspread and threw his arm over his eyes, she knew she ought to go.

But she couldn’t bear to leave him yet. Her chest full, she picked up the lap quilt from the wing chair and spread it over his legs. Then she perched beside him on the bed and cradled his free hand in hers.

What more could she say? What could ease the pain of losing a father? She shook her head, knowing it was futile to try.

So she just sat there and held his hand until his breathing deepened and slowed. Until his grip slackened and she knew he slept in the darkness. She stroked the scars along the back of his hand, the calluses on his palm, felt the strength and power in his fingers.

And remembered other stories Norm had told her, of the terrible risks Wade had taken. How he’d jumped the most volatile fires and worked in the steepest terrain. Because he believed he was expendable. That no one would miss him if he died. That no one cared.

But he’d been wrong.

His arm fell back against the pillow and she gazed at his hard, shadowed face. Her chest tightened and swelled with longing. She’d loved this man her entire life. He’d been everything to her, from a childhood hero and teenage crush, to the man she’d yearned to marry.

She’d given him her virginity, along with her heart. She would have given anything if he’d loved her back, if they could have spent their lives together.

But he hadn’t, and she’d shelved those hopes long ago.

But not the memories.

Her gaze traced a path down the rugged planes of his face, and she dragged in a shaky breath. Maybe it was the moonlight, the way the smoky beams cast shadows over his face. Or maybe she was simply too drained, too weary to fend off the emotions tonight. But she couldn’t stop the images from flooding back, the wild need swamping her heart.

It had been hot, so hot, and the soft rush of the river, the languid buzz of insects permeated the night. She’d stood beside him on the wooded towpath, gazing out at the swirling water, far from the party downstream. The sultry heat slugged through her blood. Moisture beaded her skin.

And an awful weight pressed on her chest, blocking out everything except that one thought. That he was leaving in the morning. That she might never see him again.

That she only had this one chance, this last night, to do what she’d always dreamed.

She’d turned to him then. The moonlight teased the angles of his masculine face, shrouding his dark eyes in shadow. She dragged at the sweltering air. The buzz of the insects grew louder.

And she moved deliberately closer.

He stilled and his dark gaze locked on hers. Neither spoke. The damp woods rustled around them. Tension pulsed through the air.

She knew she was crossing a line, an unspoken boundary between them, but she’d wanted him, fantasized about him for so long. And sometimes, when those whiskey-brown eyes seared hers, she’d suspected he wanted her, too. But he’d always kept his distance and she’d never had the nerve.

Until now.

Now she had this one night to make those fantasies come true.

Hardly breathing, she reached up and ran her hand across his bristled jaw. His rough skin burned beneath her palm; the erotic texture thrilled her.

But he grabbed her wrist and blocked her. “Erin,” he warned, his deep voice flat.

She nearly lost her nerve then, and she flushed. But the heat in his eyes gave her courage. She sensed that he wanted this, wanted her, but wouldn’t let himself touch her. That somehow, in his need to protect her, he’d placed her firmly off limits.

Her heart stuttering hard against her rib cage, she shook off his hand and inched closer. Much closer, until her breasts skimmed his chest and his ragged breath heated her face.

“Wade,” she whispered. “Kiss me.”

His jaw turned rigid. His fierce gaze burned into hers.

“Please,” she whispered again, her urgency rising. She couldn’t bear it if he turned away.

“Erin…” His voice sounded strangled, tortured.

“Just a kiss. Just…” His gaze scorched her lips. Cicadas screamed in the air.

Then he lifted his hands and her breath stalled. And he blazed a trail along her jaw, stroking her neck, her throat with his thumbs, sending ripples of excitement splintering through her.

The air around them stilled. Her pulse ran wild in her throat. And then he tugged up her chin and angled his head, and moved his mouth over hers. Slowly, tenderly. As if she were something fragile, something precious.

As if he loved her.

Her lungs seized up. Her eyes fluttered closed and her heart refused to beat.

But then he probed the seam of her mouth with his tongue and she parted her lips on a gasp. And his tongue swept through her mouth, bold and sure, and insistent, until shivers blazed over her skin and hot blood pooled in her veins.

He widened his stance and pulled her against his arousal. The sensation shocked her. Excited her. Her heart nearly leaped from her chest.

And then he groaned and tightened his arms, and seemed to lose all control, devouring her in a deep, carnal kiss that blasted away every thought. Jolting her, flaying her, reeling her in deeper and harder. Until a fever of need scorched her nerves and her body quivered with pleasure.

She moaned against his mouth, feeling dazed, drugged, obsessed. She craved his big, rough hands on her skin. His hard body fused with hers.

But he pushed her head to his neck and clamped her tightly against him. Her heart thundered inside her chest. His breath rasped loud in her ear.

“Wade, make love to me,” she whimpered.

“No, Erin.” His voice was jagged, hoarse. “Don’t do this.”

“Please.” Desperate, she pressed herself against him. She’d die if he left her now.

“You don’t know what you’re asking.” He was trembling, sucking in air, as if he’d run ten miles.

“Yes, I do. I want you.”

She pulled her head from his grasp. His eyes were stark. Emotions warred in his face. Resistance. Frustration. Hunger.

“Wade, please,” she pleaded, her voice breaking.

“I’ll hurt you. Don’t you understand? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. You can’t.” She burned for him, ached for him to fill that void inside her. “I need you.”

He tipped back his head and shuddered. He made a deep, rough sound in his throat.

And then he hauled her against him and crushed his mouth over hers, ravaging her, scalding her, until need overcame thought. Until their senses burned and their bodies merged, and she knew what it meant to love.

It had been exquisite, the most thrilling night of her life. A perfect moment in time.

But reality returned with the dawn and he’d closed down that glimpse of his heart. And she’d realized that it hadn’t been enough, that she couldn’t convince him to stay. And she’d stood there alone on her porch, her heart shattering, her entire world collapsing, as the Harley’s rumble receded and the man she loved rode away.

Her deep sigh cut through the night. And now he was back in her life. Not by choice, of course. And nothing had really changed. He didn’t want a relationship. And he certainly didn’t want her love. All she could offer was friendship, for however long he stayed—which wouldn’t be long now that Norm had died.

She sighed again, heavier this time. She didn’t envy him the days ahead. Attending the funeral. Settling the estate. Dispensing with Norm’s belongings.

Then another thought occurred to her and a dull dread crept through her heart. With Norm gone, she had to repay the loan. Norm had never pressed her for payments, but now she didn’t have a choice.

But where could she get the money? She’d already taken out one bank loan and she had nowhere else to turn.

She also had to tell Wade. He would probably inherit Norm’s estate, so she’d owe him the money now.

She frowned at that complication. Wade had enough to contend with without burdening him with her problems. But she could hardly avoid telling him. She’d do it the first chance she had.

Uneasy now, she gently released his hand. She tucked the quilt around his legs, then rose, hoping in sleep he’d find the peace he deserved. A peace that would elude her until she found a way to repay Norm’s loan.

Chapter Four

Cars and trucks lined Norm’s street when Wade pulled up the next morning. He took one glance at the throng of vehicles and nearly kept on going.

But he’d already ridden for hours and it hadn’t done any good. After a miserable, restless night, he’d dragged himself out of bed, jumped on his Harley, and hurtled down the country roads—just opened the throttle and unleashed the V-Rod’s raw power. But the grief still clamped down on him, crushing him, like a huge vise squeezing his chest.

And the last thing he wanted to do right now was to deal with people. He didn’t want condolences and he sure as hell didn’t want pity. But he couldn’t leave town yet. He’d promised Norm he’d stay and he would, until they buried him in the ground.

A sharp ache knifed through his chest, but he sucked in a ragged breath. Then, before he could change his mind, he parked the bike, strode up the short cement walkway and pushed open the door to the kitchen.

As he’d expected, the house overflowed with neighbors. Max waved from across the kitchen to get his attention, and worked his way to him through the crowd.

“Wade, thank God you’re here.” Max clapped his hand on his shoulder. “Ed from the funeral parlor called. You need to call him back.”

Wade spotted the coffee machine on the counter, flanked by cakes and rolls. “Why does he want to talk to me?”

“He needs to know what you decided about the funeral.”

“What do you mean, what I decided? Why couldn’t you handle that?” He moved to the counter, tugged a foam cup off the stack and poured himself some coffee.

“Because you’re next of kin. And I wasn’t sure if you’d want a viewing or just the service.”

Viewing? Service? What the hell did he care? He wanted to bury Norm and leave town.

“They’ll send the obituary to the newspaper, too,” Max added. “As soon as you confirm the details. Norm left everything you’d need with the will.”

“Everything I’d need for what? What are you talking about?”

Max scratched his head. “You didn’t know? Norm told me it was all set.”

He slugged back the coffee, then narrowed his eyes at Max. “Exactly what am I supposed to know?”

“That you’re executor of the will.”

“Executor? You’re kidding.” How could he do that? Didn’t an executor have to file papers? Pay taxes? Jump through hoops of red tape? “I don’t even live here anymore.”

Max shrugged. “It shouldn’t take long. A few months maybe.”

“A few months!”

“Maybe longer. They can tell you at the courthouse.”

He stared at Max. He couldn’t stay here for months; he could barely tolerate days. And Norm knew that. So why had he saddled him with this job?

Because he knew Wade wouldn’t turn him down—which meant he’d wanted him to stay. But why?

He scowled. Norm had never asked him to live in Millstown, never even brought that subject up. Besides, what would Wade do in Millstown with Norm gone?

An image of Erin’s sagging porch came to mind. Hell. Was that what this was about?

Anger flared, then slammed through his gut. Did Erin know about this arrangement? Had she schemed with Norm behind his back? Just what the hell was she up to?

He thought of her sweet body pressed to his back, her gentle voice in the dark, and his fury abruptly deflated. No, Erin hadn’t done this. She would never manipulate him that way. Norm had hatched this plot alone.

But that still didn’t mean that he liked it.

The phone trilled across the noisy room. “Hey, Wade,” someone called a moment later. “It’s Ed from the funeral home again.”

Still seething, he dumped his remaining coffee in the sink and slammed the cup in the trash. He’d deal with the funeral parlor. And the paper. And the courthouse, and anything else that he had to.

He’d been boned from the bottom. He didn’t have a choice.

But damned if he would stay in Millstown one minute longer than it took to settle that will. Not one second longer. No matter what Norm had in mind.

Early that evening, with both his knee and skull now hammering, Wade returned to Mills Ferry. He hauled himself up the stairs, intending to gulp down some painkillers and crash into bed.

“Do you have a minute, Wade?”

He stopped partway up the stairs and looked down. Erin stood in the foyer, her red hair shimmering in the light. She clasped her hands together. “I need to talk to you, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure.” He trudged back down the stairs. She probably wanted to talk about Norm. He hoped she cut it short. He didn’t want to chat after making funeral arrangements all day.

“Grandma’s watching TV in the parlor, so why don’t we talk in the kitchen?”

“Fine.” He glanced into the small front room as he passed. The older woman sat in an armchair, wrapped in a colorful quilt.

He limped behind Erin toward the kitchen. Despite the pain ramming his skull, he appreciated the view. Her tight, faded jeans hugged her lushly curved bottom and highlighted the flare of her hips.

Then she leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed her arms, and his gaze lodged on her breasts, just as it always had in high school. The corner of his mouth kicked up. She’d driven him crazy back then. He’d spent years in a haze of lust, imagining how she’d look and feel naked.

But no fantasy had matched the reality of Erin. The taste of her delicate skin. The satiny feel of her breasts. And when he’d been inside her…

He shifted, swallowed hard. “Dinner smells good.”

She flashed a nervous smile. “I made chicken enchiladas. I hope you like Mexican food.”

“I like anything I can eat.”

“It’s nothing fancy. I’m not that great a cook.”

Why did she need to apologize? “Believe me, I’m not picky. I’m a smokejumper, remember?”

“What does that have to do with it?”

“Constant hunger. Even ratted C-rations look good after a few days working a fire.” He tugged the waistband of his jeans, which had ridden low on his hips. “You can’t eat enough to keep the weight on. That’s why my jeans are so loose.”

Her gaze skimmed down his chest to his waist. And then lower. Her cheeks flushed and hot desire lashed his groin.

Thrown off guard, he pulled out a chair and sat. The abrupt movement jolted his knee but he welcomed the distraction. “So what did you want to talk about?”

Her forehead furrowed. “There’s something you need to know. Norm lent me some money a while back. Quite a bit, actually. Ten thousand dollars.

“Grandma’s accident generated a lot of bills,” she continued. “Medicare covered most of them, but she doesn’t have a supplement, so the extras added up. The drugs alone cost a fortune. And then there’s this house.” She sighed. “I love it, but it’s an absolute money pit. Everything’s breaking and rotting away. And then the roof started leaking and I had to have it repaired. It really needs to be replaced, but—”

“Erin, why are you telling me this?”

She sighed, more heavily this time. “Because I can’t pay it back. Not yet, anyway. I will, but I—”

“Forget it.”

“What?”

“I said forget it. Norm’s dead. He doesn’t need the money.”

“But—”

“Look, I read the will today and he left almost everything to me. And I don’t want the money.” Or the delay collecting the debt would cause. He stood.

“Wade, did you hear me? I said I owe you ten thousand dollars.”

“And I said I don’t need it.”

“But everybody needs—”

“Listen. I make good money at what I do, and I rake in the overtime pay.” He shrugged. “And I don’t have many expenses. Maybe I’m not rich by some standards, but I’m sure as hell not poor.”

She shook her head. “Even if I wanted to let you forget it—and I certainly don’t—you might not have a choice. I don’t know much about settling estates, but I don’t think you can just write off a debt like that.”

“So I’ll take the money out of my account and put it into Norm’s. What difference does it make?”

“It makes a difference to me.”

“Erin, Norm gave the money to you.”

“He lent the money to me. There’s a difference.”

“Well, I don’t want the money, so just forget it.” He started toward the door.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” She stalked into his path and put out her hand to block him. “Stop right there! Just stop! You are not going to do this. I absolutely won’t let you.”

He frowned down at her. “Not do what?”

“Riding in here like some knight in shining armor, throwing your money around to solve my problems, and then bolting away again.”

Her green eyes blazed at him. She was actually angry. Because he didn’t want her money? Or because he was going to leave?

Dread spiraled through his gut. “This is about that night at the river, isn’t it?”

“What?” she gasped.

“You’re mad because I left.”

“I am not!”

He plunged his hand through his hair. “Erin, I couldn’t stay in Millstown.”

“And I never asked you to.” She planted her hands on her hips. “I knew all along you were leaving. You’d talked about it for months. So don’t you dare put that guilt on yourself. Don’t you dare! I knew exactly what I was doing.”

She sure did. She’d excited him out of his mind and he’d fantasized about it ever since.

Color rode high on her cheeks. “I was the one who suggested it, if you recall. And I got what I wanted.”

“What? A night of sex?”

“That’s right.”

His own temper flared. It had been a hell of a lot more than that and she knew it.

And it had scared him to death.

He stilled. Is that why he’d rushed off? Because he couldn’t deal with his feelings for Erin? Or had he been protecting her from himself, as he’d convinced himself all these years?

He’d been a rough, scrappy kid from the trailer trash side of town, not the kind of man she should marry. He’d had no skills, no way to earn a living. Of course he’d been right to leave.

The telephone rang in the tense silence. A second later it rang again. He motioned toward it with his hand. “Aren’t you going to get that?”

“The machine can pick it up.”

The phone rang again and the answering machine beeped on. “Erin, this is Mike,” the machine recorded. “I wanted to know if you’d like to go to the symphony tomorrow night. I’ve got the bank’s box, if you’re interested. I thought we could have dinner first, maybe around seven?”

Erin lifted a shoulder, her face still flushed. “Mike Kell,” she explained. “He teaches with me at St. Michaels.”

Mike Kell. Sure, he remembered. Class president and valedictorian. His father owned the bank. Wade’s jaw clenched.

“…so give me a call when you get in,” Mike finished. The machine clicked off, paused, then whirred as it rewound.

“I take it you’re dating?”

“Not really.”

He scowled. “Dinner and the symphony sounds like a date to me.”

“We’re just friends.”

But Mike wanted it to be more, he guessed. And Mike was exactly the type Erin belonged with. Classy, educated. Irritation surged in his gut.

His gaze settled on the shadows under her eyes, the fatigue lining her face, and his temper rose. So why wasn’t Mike taking care of her? He wouldn’t let her suffer if she belonged to him—teaching rowdy kids all day, slaving over her grandmother at night, scraping by on borrowed money while her house rotted apart. Why didn’t Mike grab a chain saw and cut up those limbs in the yard or pick up a hammer and fix the porch?

Erin’s gaze caught his. “Look, I’m going to pay back the money. I just need time to organize things, that’s all.”

“And I said I don’t want it.”

Her chin came up. “Well, that’s too bad because I’m still going to pay it back. This isn’t your problem.”

“Norm made it my problem.”

She crossed her arms, her pride apparent in the tilt of her head. But another emotion flitted through her eyes. Worry. Anxiety. And suddenly she looked vulnerable, lost, like that abandoned kid she’d once been.

The kid with rejection haunting her eyes from a mother who didn’t want her. The kid who’d flashed him that sweet, shy smile, despite his bad reputation. The one who had accepted him.

A hard fist twisted his heart. He didn’t mean to trample her pride, and he sure didn’t want to hurt her. He never could stand to wound Erin.

But she obviously couldn’t solve this alone. Even if she paid off the loan, the house still needed attention. And who knew what other debts she had, or what she’d do in the future?

Which meant he had to get involved, whether she liked it or not. She had no one else to help her.

“You don’t mind if I stay here, do you?” he asked slowly. “While I’m going through Norm’s things, I mean.”

“Of course not. You can stay as long as you want.”

“Good.” That would give him time to fix the house and solve the rest of her problems. He turned and strode toward the door.

“Wade.”

He paused and turned back. Her green eyes narrowed on his. “I’m serious. I said I don’t want a savior.”

But she sure as hell needed one. And it appeared it was going to be him.

Chapter Five

The early morning sunlight filtered through the third-story window, casting weak, dust-laden rays across the room. Wade clicked on his flashlight and aimed the beam at the sagging ceiling. Pooling water had stained and damaged the plaster and buckled the wood floor beneath.

Disgusted, he turned off the flashlight and crossed to the deep-set window. The old bubbled glass was still intact, but the wooden sill had rotted, letting cold wind whistle through. He shook his head. No wonder the house was freezing. Every window in the whole damned place leaked.

He propped the flashlight on the sill, tugged his notepad from his back pocket and added to his growing list. The house was in far worse shape than he’d expected. Chimneys had cracked. The exterior stone needed repointing. The foundation had settled, causing the ground floor to warp.

And the interior was even worse. He could paint, plaster, sand and refinish every day for the rest of his life and never run out of work. And he hadn’t even looked at the heating or plumbing.