Into the Fire Page 3

  “You introduced yourself as James.”

  He lifted one shoulder, wondering why he suddenly felt on the defensive. “At home, I’m James. Always takes me a week or two to get used to being Jamie again while I’m here.” The nickname had come his rookie year with the squad, because there had been another James on the squad who had seniority. Roscoe had dubbed him Jamie for simplicity purposes and it stuck, even after the other James moved on to another squad.

  Ivy looked at her dad. “Jamie’s last name is Compton?”

  Roscoe gave her a confused nod. “Yeah. Why? Does that matter?”

  She shook her head. “I just didn’t know he lived at Compass Ranch.”

  Her father looked from Ivy to him and back. “I didn’t realize that was something you would want to know.” Roscoe’s bewilderment grew. “You two know each other?”

  “No. Just met a little while ago. Ran into each other out on the trail,” James explained, not adding the fact that Ivy had strayed from the path. Knowing Roscoe’s overprotective nature, he wouldn’t like hearing that information. Even though, he probably should.

  “I see.” Roscoe was eyeballing him, no doubt trying to figure out if there was something going on he should be concerned about.

  James’s attention was diverted when one of the strays he’d intended to woo Ivy with rubbed against his legs, and then hers.

  “There’s my little Jezebel,” Ivy said, bending down to scoop up the cat. So much for that plan. Obviously, Ivy was already taking care of the base pets.

  The cat purred in her arms as Ivy rubbed her belly.

  “You need anything, Jamie?” Roscoe was clearly trying to get rid of him.

  James shook his head. “Nope. Just wanted to make sure Ivy was okay.”

  Roscoe’s eyes narrowed slightly when James used her real name. “Scout’s fine.”

  James turned to her, reluctant to leave. Any progress he’d made convincing her he was a decent guy on the trail seemed to have vanished. For some reason, he was back to square one—and he didn’t like it. Mainly because he liked her. “It was nice meeting you, Ivy. Hopefully our paths will cross again soon. We can talk horses some more.” He tried to dial back his flirting a little, not wanting to incur Roscoe’s wrath, but hoping to let Ivy know he’d like to see her again.

  “Horses?” Roscoe asked, but Ivy cut him off.

  “I suspect you’ll be too busy with training and your other tasks around here for that. It was nice to meet you too.” As far as dismissals went, that one stung.

  For a second.

  James watched her turn and walk into the building, her ass perfectly accented by a tight pair of jeans and her long hair swinging in a way that had his fingers itching for a touch. It was the color of dark chocolate, and he wondered if it would smell as sweet.

  Roscoe didn’t speak again until she was out of earshot. “Seriously, Jamie? You’re ogling my daughter’s ass right in front of me.”

  James gave his boss a sheepish grin. “I prefer ‘appreciating’ over ‘ogling.’”

  “I don’t give a shit what you call it. You keep your eyes closed whenever she’s around. She’s not for you.”

  James hadn’t considered that Ivy might be dating someone. “She got a boyfriend?”

  Roscoe rolled his eyes, and James suddenly realized where Ivy had picked up that gesture. “You don’t have two brain cells in your head, do you? No, she doesn’t have a boyfriend, but she’s still not going to go out with you.”

  James could and couldn’t understand Roscoe’s reticence. For one thing, he’d always thought the two of them had held each other in mutual respect. More than a few times, Roscoe had affectionately called him “son.”

  But that probably didn’t change the fact that James had acquired a bit of a reputation on the base as a player. And while that rep was only about half earned, half legend, James didn’t exactly go out of his way to correct the wrong stuff.

  “Roscoe, come on, man. You know me.”

  “That’s right. I do.”

  “Listen, I know you’ve probably heard some rumors—”

  “Julie Rodriquez was a rumor?”

  James shook his head, wishing him being caught naked and soapy in the barrack showers with the pretty base receptionist his first year on the squad had been just a story. “No, but—”

  “And Becky Miller?”

  James sighed. “Beck and I were just friends.” He didn’t dare add the “with benefits” part to that statement. Roscoe knew the truth. Becky had been the base dispatcher the previous two summers. Neither of them had been looking for anything serious with each other, but that didn’t mean the sex hadn’t been damn good.

  “And Allison Carnes?”

  James shrugged and realized he wasn’t going to win this battle. Time to divert. “I just think it might be nice to go out on a date with Ivy. Take her out to dinner, maybe a movie. That’s all. She’s your daughter, Roscoe, and I respect you—and her—too much to ever play games like that. I do know how to be a gentleman.”

  Roscoe’s face softened, but only slightly. “Maybe so, but it’s not me who would hold her back. She’s a grown woman and she makes her own decisions. And she’s already made this one. She doesn’t date smokejumpers. Never has. Never will.”

  James couldn’t make sense of that. After all, in his younger years, Roscoe was a smokejumper.

  “Why not?”

  Like his daughter, when Roscoe got his back up, conversation was over. “She just doesn’t. So do yourself a favor and forget about her.”

  With that, Roscoe turned around and walked the same direction his daughter had just gone.

  James considered taking Roscoe’s advice for about a second and a half.

  Then he grinned.

  Ivy and Roscoe had just done the worst possible thing.

  Told a Compass Boy something was impossible.

  Chapter Two

  Ivy finished giving the small kitten her injection before putting her back into her carrier with a heavy sigh. It had been three days since her run-in with James “Jamie” Compton on the trail, and she hadn’t been able to concentrate on a damn thing since.

  He’d snuck up on her in the woods and scared the bejeezus out of her. She had made no fewer than a dozen treks to that same tree in the last decade and had never run into another soul. Her dad lost his shit every single time she said she was going back to the tree, but his words of warning always fell on deaf ears, and he ultimately relented. Because he understood her reasons for going, he reluctantly stood aside and let her do her thing.

  So, when James had stepped out from behind that tree, she’d silently cursed herself for not listening to her dad, and she’d spent more than a few uneasy minutes trying to covertly tug the pepper spray Dad had armed her with out of her back pocket, while keeping James in sight.

  It hadn’t taken long for her to get a sense that he wasn’t a danger to her. James had a slow, easy country-boy charm, and she believed him when he said he was a gentleman. He’d kept his distance while engaging her in friendly conversation, all the time sticking around to protect her. She might be a modern-day, independent woman, but she wasn’t made of ice. His chivalry had pushed more than a few of the right buttons, and by the time they’d reached the parking lot, she was sort of hoping he’d ask for her number.

  The guy was seriously hot. Like sex-on-a-stick hot. Jet-black hair. Soul-piercing dark brown eyes. Close-cropped beard. Muscles that filled out a T-shirt just right. She’d almost had an orgasm just watching him straddle his motorcycle in those low-hanging jeans.

  “Fuck,” she muttered. “He’s a smokejumper.”

  Every time her libido started to get the better of her, she repeated those words, hoping that reminder would help her get a grip on her horniness. When James had taken the turn toward base camp, her initial attraction had been muted by the fear he really was some sort of creepy stalker. She’d called her dad to tell him she was almost there, knowing he would start looking out th
e window for her arrival. With that safety measure in place, she’d pulled into the parking lot, ready to blast James.

  God.

  Jamie.

  How many times had her dad talked about Jamie in the past? Probably a million.

  Jamie had a hell of a jump today. Hit the target dead-on.

  I swear that fire would have taken twice as long to put out if we hadn’t had Jamie out there. The guy is a bulldozer.

  Jamie dragged Trevor out of the woods today. Guy would have died of smoke inhalation if Jamie hadn’t gotten him to the transport.

  And so on and so on.

  Ivy had heard so many stories about the amazing Jamie, she’d almost expected the guy to walk around in a Superman cape.

  Foolishly, she let herself imagine him in one of those tight Superman getups, her mind’s eye drifting over his chiseled six-pack abs and rock-hard thighs…and the little extra she fantasized he was packing just below the waist.

  “Bah,” she breathed out, disgusted with herself. It figured the first guy she’d feel this seriously turned on by in years would be a smokejumper. The universe hated her.

  The bell over the door at the entrance rang. She glanced at her watch. The receptionist was still on lunch break, and they didn’t have any appointments scheduled for another hour.

  So…an emergency.

  She opened the door that separated the waiting area from the exam room, but stopped dead in her tracks in the doorframe.

  James Compton stood by the front desk. He smiled at her. She fought hard not to offer him the same. Something told her if she gave the man an inch, he’d take a mile…or better yet, her. Ivy forced a scowl that was completely lost on him.

  “Heya, Doc.”

  “You lost, Cowboy?”

  He shook his head, looking far too charming for her own good.

  “Forget your pet?”

  His grin grew. “Nope. I was going to try to catch one of the strays on the base as an excuse to come see you, but I realized you’ve probably already looked after them.”

  “I have.”

  James didn’t look deterred.

  “So,” she said after a moment. “Did you need something?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. Just rode into town to pick up some supplies. Thought I’d stop by to see if you wanted to grab some lunch.”

  “No,” she said quickly lust beat common sense to the punch and had her accepting the invitation.

  “Did you already eat?”

  She hadn’t, but admitting that wouldn’t help her cause. “Um, yeah. I have.”

  He tilted his head, studying her in a way that made her way too hot and flustered. She started considering what piece of clothing she could shed right now and still remain decent. To make matters worse, his question reminded her that she’d actually forgotten to eat, and her stomach growled. Loudly.

  “You want to change your answer to the truth, or should I start the liar liar pants on fire chant now?”

  She blew out an exasperated breath. “I lied because I was trying to spare your feelings.”

  “My feelings?”

  “When I reject your invitation.”

  He moved a few steps closer, and Ivy had to resist the urge to take the same number back. James Compton was a big guy, but not in a way that scared her. After all, there was nothing frightening about the idea of some strapping hunk of delicious man picking her up and carrying her to the first flat surface he could find. She glanced over her shoulder and spotted the exam table.

  Breathe, Ivy.

  “If you’re really worried about my feelings, you could just accept my offer. My treat.”

  While she had been distracted by her dirty fantasies, James had gotten close to her. Seriously close. The last time they were together, he’d kept his distance so as not to spook her. That invisible barrier had apparently vanished.

  “I’m not going out with you, Jamie.”

  He lifted his hand to brush a stray strand of hair from her eyes. The gesture was too familiar for their short acquaintance. Unfortunately, it was also sexy as hell, so she forgot to yell at him.

  “Why not? And don’t give me that ‘I don’t date smokejumpers’ excuse unless you intend to tell me why.”

  His words struck hard and deep—and piqued her temper. “It’s not an excuse. It’s a way of life, and I don’t owe you any damn explanations. If I don’t want to date you, I won’t.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” His patience in the face of her hostility rankled further. The guy seemed unshakable. Which, of course, made her want to shake the shit out of him. “What’s your criteria for going out with a guy?”

  “What?”

  “You’ve told me why you won’t go out with me. I’m wondering what kinds of guys you are interested in. Doctors? Like you? You prefer college degrees and white collars?”

  “No. Of course not. I don’t care what a man does for a living.” The words fell out before she could stop them. Because she’d just made it very clear she did care what he did.

  James’s brows lifted slightly, but he took pity on her and let the slip slide on by. “Okay then. Looks? You prefer clean-cut over scruffy beards?”

  His beard was far from scruffy, and in truth, she wouldn’t mind getting a few scratches from it on some of the more sensitive parts of her body. “I…”

  He chuckled. “You’re blushing.”

  “No, I’m not,” she snapped, lying in spite of the fact her face felt like it was on fire.

  “I’m not complaining. You look really pretty with all that pink in your cheeks. Obviously, beards aren’t a problem.”

  She hadn’t said that with words, but James was turning out to be pretty astute at reading her body language. Which meant he had her number already.

  “So what could you be looking for? Want to give me a hint?”

  Ivy opened her mouth to speak, but every single thing she wanted to say described him. A gentleman, someone who loved horses and the land, who cared about his family, to whom she was attracted.

  Jesus. He owned all that and more.

  Finally, she just spat out, “Sense of humor,” because it was the only thing she could think of and it seemed safe.

  James laughed.

  Fuck. He had a really great laugh. Deep and rich. Plus, it showcased his perfect white teeth. Where the hell were his flaws? There had to be something.

  Oh, yeah…smokejumping.

  “If you give me a chance, I suspect I could break through that prickly exterior of yours and make you laugh, darlin’.”

  Oh hell no. No, no, no.

  Anything but “darlin’” with that country drawl of his. Her nipples tightened, her stomach—and pussy—clenched, and Ivy suddenly found it hard to catch a deep breath.

  She latched onto the only thing she could remember apart from that sexy nickname. “I’m not prickly.”

  “Pretty sure you’re not…with anyone other than me. Your dad has told me plenty of stories about you. You were top in your class in high school and college—got a good scholarship, so obviously you’re smart. He said you waited tables all through college and vet school to help pay your way, so you’re a hard worker, you’re driven. Said you were the girl who put your high school up for sale on Craigslist for twenty bucks as a senior prank, so I’d say you’ve got a pretty good sense of humor yourself. For the record, my prank wasn’t as clever. Just climbed up on the roof of the school and stole the letter P off the sign. For a few days, it was called Compton Ass High School. At least until Uncle Silas found the P hidden behind some haystacks in the barn and made me take it back.”

  She giggled, before the sound morphed to a groan. Unfortunately, the giggle was all the encouragement he needed.

  “See? I’ve got a great sense of humor. Come to lunch with me.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  She started to repeat her smokejumper rule, but changed her mind, going for something a bit stronger. “Because I’m not attracted to you. Not at all. Not even a
little bit.”

  Ivy probably could have sold her lie a bit better if she’d managed to look him in the eye as she said it, instead of making the inane proclamation to his left shoulder.

  James tipped her face up toward his with a finger under her chin. Sweet Jesus. Every single platonic touch from the man struck her with the force of a lightning bolt.

  “Still lying,” he murmured, not bothering to make his words a question. His eyes dropped down to her lips and she licked them instinctively, foolishly hoping and maybe inviting him to kiss her.

  “I’m going to kiss you, Ivy,” he said, his face closer to hers now, his breath hot on her face.

  “Okay,” she whispered. Common sense had hopped a flight to China. Horniness ruled the day.

  “Right after lunch.”

  She frowned as he backed away. She was still struggling to recapture her wits when he grasped her hand and led her toward the door.

  Ivy was halfway across the street to the diner before her brain kicked her hormones back to the curb, but by then, it was too late to continue the fight.

  James held the door to the diner open for her.

  “Just lunch,” she said sternly. “And no kiss afterwards.”

  He placed his hand on the small of her back as he guided her to a booth by the front window that afforded them a view of the street. It also ensured every person who walked by would see Ivy Wagner out on a date with James Compton, a smokejumper.

  And because this entire town would fit on a postage stamp, her dad would no doubt know she’d been out to lunch with James before she got back to the office in an hour.

  Not that she expected her dad to mind. Much. He really was quite fond of James, and while he accepted and understood her adamancy about knocking smokejumpers off her list of potential love interests, she also suspected it hurt his feelings a little because that was what he did, who he was, at heart.

  Once they were settled and Sally had taken their drink orders, James leaned back in his seat. “Tell me about yourself.”