Into the Flames

Chapter 2

2

Rollo felt a lot better after a huge serving of pork chops, potatoes and applesauce—not to mention the two dark ales he’d downed in pretty short order. Of all people to end up on a non-date with, Brianna was at the top of the list. He always got a kick out of her, and she was pretty, too. All that flaming ginger hair, her small but perky body.

He'd known Brianna ever since his friend and crew superintendent Sean Marcus had gotten together with her friend Evie. Over the past few months they'd clicked as friends. They'd gone to the midnight movie horror show, shared giant jalapeño burgers at the Milky Way, hiked in the hills around Jupiter Point. She definitely deserved a real date with someone who could properly appreciate her in all her uniqueness.

But he wasn't in a position to date anyone. He'd tried to tell Gretchen that, but she was having none of it. "Nope, sorry. You're too delicious to stay single. How about two cases of tile?"

He washed down his last bite of potato with a long slug of beer and pushed his plate aside. He didn't have to put on an act with Brianna, which was a huge plus to hanging out with her. Maybe it was all the time she spent with plants and flowers, but she had an amazing ability to accept people as they were. With her, he never got the feeling that he should shave his beard and quit being a firefighter and move back east and marry a debutante and…

Eh. No need to repeat the last thousand conversations with his parents.

"So, Bri. You might as well tell me."

"Tell you what?" She glanced up from her braised chicken and dumplings. Another thing the two of them had in common was a hearty appreciation of food. How she managed to eat so much with that tiny frame of hers, he had no idea. She could probably ride on his shoulders and he wouldn't feel a thing.

"Who your secret crush is."

"What? Who told you that?" Her green eyes were wide with dismay, a flush coming and going in her cheeks. With a light spray of golden freckles across her cheekbones, she really was pretty.

"No one. Like I said, secret." He smiled smugly when she wrinkled her nose at him. "You can tell Uncle Rollo. I'm a master of keeping secrets."

"Back up, back up. What makes you think I have this alleged hidden crush?" She put down her fork, the sleeve of her blouse dragging through the gravy on her plate. He grabbed a napkin and dipped it in water, then lifted her arm so he could dab the soiled spot.

"Well, this is our third sort-of date and you haven't fallen in love with me yet. The only explanation is that you're into someone else."

She rolled her eyes, which he totally deserved. He wasn't any kind of player—not like Josh, who'd flirted his way through several states before finally falling hard for Brianna's friend Suzanne. Rollo was very careful who he got involved with because it could never go anywhere. That was one of the reasons he kept Brianna firmly in the friend zone. She was a great girl but he couldn't get involved.

"Whoever he is, he probably doesn't know you're into him. Because if he did, he'd snap you up."

She stared at him for a long moment, a look of delight slowly taking over her face. "Wow, Rollo. That was pretty nice of you."

He dipped this head in acknowledgement of her compliment. "So? Might as well spill the beans. Maybe I know the guy. I can put in a good word."

A wave of red crept from her neck, up her cheeks, all the way to her forehead. It was fascinating to watch, actually, and by the time she was done, her entire face glowed with color. With that blush, combined with her fiery hair, she could light the way through a forest.

"Rollo, just drop it. There's no point. He doesn't even know I exist. Just pretend I never said anything. Oh wait, I never did say anything."

"You're right, you're right. You didn't bring it up, and I don't want to put you on the spot. But Brianna, don't sell yourself short. You're a little hottie, and if you like this guy, you ought to at least give it a shot. As long as he deserves you. If he doesn't, I'll kick his ass."

"You can't kick his ass."

"I can kick everyone's ass." He said it matter-of-factly, because it was true. Not only was he big and tall, but the hotshot training regimen had made him incredibly strong. Guys were always trying to pick fights with him just for the challenge of it. It was extremely annoying.

"I don't want you to kick his ass. Actually, it's more like you don't want to kick his ass. You wouldn't want to, if you knew… Ack! We should stop talking about this. Now. Before I—" She clapped her hand over her mouth.

Rollo wanted to laugh out loud, but he didn't want to hurt her feelings again. He knew what she was about to say. Brianna was infamous for simply blurting things out. All kinds of things. She always meant well because she was a sweetheart, but she had a bull-in-a-china-shop quality. He liked that about her, because he liked anything that went against the grain. Brianna was always real, always herself. Even when dressed in some kind of strange green clown outfit and puffy sleeves.

He rested his forearms on the table and cupped his hands around her elbows. "I promise you, on the grave of my dear departed Brunhilda, that I will never tell a single living soul about any of this. We're in a cone of silence here."

Her eyebrows flexed and drew together at a quizzical slant. "Who's Brunhilda?"

"My Newfie. I had her ever since she was a puppy. She died when I was thirteen and broke my heart. When I vow on her grave, you know I'm serious."

"Brunhilda? Who names a dog Brunhilda?"

"That just proves you didn't know her. It suited her. But let's not get distracted. Back to you."

She let out a long sigh and turned her attention to her chicken. "Why are you pushing this?"

He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. "Because I want to help you out here. Do you want to keep ending up on dates with me?"

She made a face meant to indicate that of course she didn't. He tried not to let that sting. He and Brianna were friends. And he intended to keep it that way. He didn't have a choice.

"If it helps, I have a pretty good guess about who it is," he told her. "You can just nod once if I'm right and shake your head if I'm wrong."

"I can't believe you're turning my awkward hopeless crush into a game."

"But that's the thing. I don't see why it has to be hopeless. There's always hope."

She gave him a sly look from under her eyelashes. "Always? I'm not so sure about that. I don't think I'm the only one at this table with a crush."

His jaw flexed and he was suddenly grateful for the beard covering half of his face. That thing made his expressions so much easier to conceal.

"You're bluffing," he said calmly. "You know nothing."

"You keep telling yourself that." Smugly, she dragged a bit of roll through her chicken gravy, once again putting her sleeve at risk. He reached across the table and held it up, as if it were a train on a wedding gown.

He eyed her carefully, wondering how much she actually knew or if she was just trying to throw him off. He hadn't said a word to anyone—well, who would he talk to, anyway? The hotshot crew? Hell no. His little sister? She had her own train wreck going on, and besides, she was only fourteen. He didn't need to be confiding his broken heart to a troubled teenage drama queen. Maybe he could use a friendly ear, or a friendly shoulder to cry on.

The world would not miss those green overalls if they got tear-soaked.

"There was someone—keyword, was—but my situation actually is hopeless. But I'll tell you if you tell me. That way we have mutually assured secrecy."

"Mutually assured secrecy?"

"Yup." He sat back and folded his arms over his chest. "Take it or leave it."

For a long moment, her green eyes searched his face. They were so pretty, those eyes, kind of a woodsy green. Like moss lit by the sun. Anything that reminded him of the woods was good, in his book. He'd grown up in Manhattan, with summers spent in Maine, and ever since he was little he'd lived for the Maine part of the equation.

Finally, she nodded. "Okay. I'll tell you if you tell me. But I already know yours, so it's hardly fair."

"It's very fair, because I already know yours too."

They narrowed their eyes at each other, like two suspicious super-spies in a standoff. Then Brianna burst out laughing. She had one of the most infectious belly laughs he'd ever heard. It always spread a warm feeling through his entire body.

"Fine." She planted her elbows on the table and leaned forward. "You, Mr. Rollo Wareham the Third, have been pining after Merry Warren."

Pining was overstating it. Really, it was more that Merry represented everything Rollington Wareham III couldn't have. He put a hand over his heart. "Direct hit."

At first she looked triumphant, but then her expression faded to sympathy. "I don't know, Rollo. You could have picked someone more…I don't know."

"What?"

"Possible, I guess."

He winced. Well, that was Brianna for you. Blunt. Tactless, you might even say.

"Merry's very focused on her job," Brianna was explaining softly. "I really don't think she dates much, if ever. She's very particular. I wish I could say it wasn't hopeless, but it might be in this case."

"You're not telling me anything new," he grumbled. "I asked her out, she shot me down, we never spoke of it again."

"She was embedded with the hotshots for a little while, right?"

"Yeah."

Merry was a reporter with the Mercury News-Gazette, and she'd spent two weeks with the Jupiter Point Hotshots, observing as they battled a huge wildfire in Montana. He'd watched over her the entire time, kept her Thermos filled with coffee, sacrificed his favorite pillow when she kept getting neck cramps from camping out. He'd offered her the last of his bug dope, even though he wound up covered with welts because he was extra sensitive to mosquito bites.

And…nothing. All of Merry's fierce, focused intelligence stayed squarely on her job. She observed, she took notes, she asked questions, she never got in the way, she never complained. She was perfect. And gorgeous, with her light brown skin and dark curls. Her warm maple-brown eyes never looked on him with anything other than friendliness.

Brianna was watching him with sympathy. "The unrequited thing sucks, doesn't it?"

He shrugged. " So, you and…just guessing here…Finn."

Her face turned bright red instantly, as if she were choking on something. "You know?"

"I told you I knew."

It was hard to miss the way she clammed up and acted so awkward when Finn Abrams was around. He'd jumped to the obvious conclusion.

"Who else knows?" she managed.

He shrugged. "No idea. It's never come up. Everyone's exhausted at the end of the fire season. Sean and Josh are all sappy and in love. I wouldn't worry about it."

"Does he know?"

"Nah. I doubt it. Finn is…well, he's going through a rough time. He's got a lot on his mind."

"I know. It's so tragic, with the fire and his burns and all." She sighed, a long, wistful sound, and gazed off into the distance, over the terrace ironwork railings to the Pacific Ocean. The red glow from the tall propane heater on the terrace gave her a flushed look.

Or maybe the thought of Finn did that to her.

"He's so…he's so…" She set her chin on her cupped hand and sighed again. Her eyes went all dreamy and unfocused. And despite himself, he felt kind of jealous that someone as cool as Brianna was pining over his friend.

"Brianna?"

She didn't answer, completely lost in her Finn fantasy. It must be a good one, to make her blush like that…