Driving Chloe Wild: A Smoke Jumper Short Story Read online

  Thank God he hadn’t killed the motor. “You know him?” He asked Chloe. He didn’t care if the guy knew her.

  She shrugged. The guy explained.

  “I’m her father.”

  Right. Her reasons for getting the hell out of Spotlight became clearer and clearer, although he still didn’t quite see where the wedding dress fit it.

  “Unfortunately. I’d really appreciate it if you could drive on now.” She curled up against his arm. He wasn’t sure if she wanted to hold onto him or if she was just trying to make it that much harder to pry her out of his truck. Chloe was stubborn.

  And stuck to his side like grit.

  Agreeing would be crazy.

  “Okay. You can ride until I make a stop for dinner. That sound like a plan to you?”

  “Good enough for me.” Ignoring the protests of Chloe’s daddy dearest, he nudged his sunglasses back into place and headed for the highway. She let go and sat up.

  “You don’ care where we’re headin’?”

  She shrugged again, prying hairpins out of her up-do. “Not much. Anywhere that’s not here works for me.”

  ***

  It was a nine-hour drive from Vegas to Strong. Six hours into the drive, Adrian’s stomach announced it was time to stop and eat. Chloe’s stomach let out an answering growl. He was amazed he could hear it. She’d spent the last two hundred miles belting out country tunes at the top of her lungs. A smile tugged at his mouth. She could actually sing, which was more than he could say for himself. Listening to her hadn’t been a hardship.

  “Hungry?”

  “I could eat,” she allowed. He couldn’t tell if she was being polite or if she was remembering their agreement. After they ate, he got back in his truck and headed out to Strong. She stayed here. Wherever here was.

  He spotted a restaurant up ahead and decided fate had weighed in. Someone had perched an enormous windmill on top of the restaurant, because clearly a billboard was insufficient advertising. The place also sported enough neon that even Vegas wouldn’t have been ashamed. Ten-foot letters announced that the house specialty was pea soup. Hopefully, there was something else on the menu. Steak. A hamburger. Any red meat would do. Since the place also had an attached hotel, he could make sure Chloe had a place to spend the night.

  It was perfect.

  “Maybe they have steak.” He guided the truck into parking spot close to the door where he could keep an eye on their things while they ate.

  “Pancakes,” Chloe said decisively. “With extra butter and syrup.”

  “Whatever you want,” he said. She gave him a look he couldn’t interpret.

  “I need to change,” she announced and he had to agree. If they went inside with her looking like that, they’d be fielding stares. Plus, they’d probably have to get an extra seat for the dress.

  She grabbed a handful of clothes from her suitcase and then crawled into his backseat to change with a strict admonishment for him to not peek. Hell, if she’d had second thoughts about his not being a gentleman, she needed to find herself another ride. While she stripped down and re-dressed, he tucked an explosion of clothes back into her suitcase. Maybe she’d sat on the damned thing to get it to close, because he had no idea how she’d gotten so much stuff into the suitcase in the first place. She had the softest, silkiest things, all tangled up with lace-covered bits and pieces. Things to get a man to thinking, although he had a sinking sensation that she could be sporting a flour sack and he’d still be thinking. She got under his skin.

  When she finally emerged, hair standing on end, she wore a pair of cut-off shorts and an old I love Vegas T-shirt. She also sported a pair of pretty kick-ass boots herself. He didn’t look at her long, bare legs for more than a minute. Or three. He had his limits.

  Instead of staring more, he set Momma Cat up with Purina, checked the water, and turned to Chloe.

  “Let’s eat,” he said gruffly. “My treat.”

  And then, when she gave him a suspicious look, he added, “Jesus. No strings, Chloe. I’ve never traded pancakes for sex and I’m not startin’ tonight.”

  “Okay.” She nodded and patted her back pocket. Her very tight, clinging-to-her-fantastic ass pocket. “But I’ve got pepper spray here if you change your mind.”

  He rolled his eye and urged her toward the restaurant. “The time to mention the pepper spray was when you got into my truck.”

  “Duly noted,” she said, but she didn’t sound too concerned.

  He got her into a booth and passed her a menu from the stack at the end of the table. He told himself it was because he didn’t know when she’d eaten last.

  “A place like this, all these truckers? We’re goin’ to have a good dinner.”

  She made a face. “I waitressed in Spotlight. I’m a diner expert. I can tell you what every guy in here is like by looking at the plate in front of him.”

  “Is that so?”

  “You bet.” Her eyes twinkled, warning him she was about to try and put one over him. Strangely, he didn’t mind at all. Nope. He liked the way she looked at him too much. “In fact, why don’t we bet on it? If I win, you buy dinner.”

  “And if you lose?”

  “I won’t.” She flashed him a grin. “But I’ve got enough money to treat you to cup of coffee and a brownie.”

  “Deal.” He stretched his legs out underneath the table, his foot brushing hers.

  “Okay. But you should think about taking notes or something.”

  “Why?” He couldn’t stop himself from smiling. There was something about Chloe.

  “Because,” she said all charming seriousness, “this kind of information is gold on a first date. If you want to make a good impression on your gal, you need to order the right stuff.”

  “Hit me.” He leaned back in the booth.

  ”Okay.” She looked around the room. “The guy with the plaid flannel lives at home and hasn’t quite broken free of his mama. He’s having milk with his cake. Don’t order milk. Red T-shirt guy is cheap. He’s going to order off the kid’s menu. The Oxford shirt has nasty habits—not only does he have corn stuck his teeth, but he’s probably the kind of guy who skips the sink on his way out of the restroom. And, over there in the corner, the guy in athletic pants and a sweatshirt? He’s both a health freak and a control freak. He’s got his salad deconstructed and all the good parts on the side. No croutons for him and he brought his own protein shake. He’ll look good when he’s sixty, but he’ll never admit that chocolate is a key food group.”

  “You realize there’s no way to prove you’re right.”

  “Uh-huh. Are you reneging on our bet?” She grinned at him.

  “Hell, no. Now I’m just scared to order, boo.”

  She relieved him of his menu as the waitress came up to him. “I’ve got you covered. No worries.”

  Warmth snuck Plus him. He liked her even better when she ordered pancakes with bacon. And a side of steak. And potatoes, fried tomatoes and a piece of pie. Times two. He told the waitress to bring it all at once.

  “Do I look like a lumberjack? Or like I’m starvin’?”

  She looked him over, a slow, hot feminine examination that had parts of him sitting up and taking notice. Maybe she was sticking with him for more than a ride and a meal. A man could hope.

  “A good meal never hurt anyone.”

  When the food came, he started with the pie. “You never know when the call’s comin’ in. I’m startin’ with the good stuff,” he said when she looked at him questioningly.

  “Good plan,” she agreed, her lips curving in a smile. “I like your style, firefighter.”

  When the food came, they ate for a while before she broke the silence with a “Tell me about Strong?”

  He stole a bite of bacon from her plate, deftly avoiding her fork. He’d learned a few things in the firehouse.

  “It’s a small town in Northern California. Pretty, according to my cousin’s girlfriend, but not too big. I think you could count the streets on
two hands. Maybe one.” He hadn’t asked too many questions.

  “They hire a lot of firefighters?”

  “They’ve got a firehouse with two ladders and Donovan Brothers run a smoke jumping team.”

  It was big enough for him—and it wasn’t Vegas.

  “Have you jumped before?”

  “I did when I was military.”

  “You didn’t want to stay in?”

  He shook his head. “The jumpin’ and the planes were good, but there was too much downtime. Me, I need to stay busy.”

  “Vegas didn’t keep you busy enough?”

  He shook his head. “The last fire wasn’t good.”

  “There’s such a thing as a good fire?” She sounded serious, but not judging. He liked the way she listened to him. The waitress slid two more pieces of pie in front of them. Chocolate for her. Coconut cream for him. Chloe could definitely put away food.

  He chewed on his pie for a moment, thinking about his answer. “Oui,” he said finally. “You got yourself fires where the ladder gets there quickly and you have what seems like all the time in the world to knock the flames down. The building’s empty and the water pressure, she’s perfect. It’s just you and the fire and you put her out, no problems. That’s a good fire.”

  She set her fork down. “And the bad ones?”

  “You don’ get there in time and the building’s an old one, goin’ up too fast, too hot. You’ve got a family inside, part of a family. Kids who were home alone, but no one’s gettin’ them out tonight. No matter how hard you pump, that water’s not goin’ to be enough, not those nights.”

  She got up and came around to slide into the booth beside him, her thigh bumping his. Then she patted his arm in a gesture that had to be the least carnal touch ever and yet still somehow managed to set him on fire.

  “Shit,” she said softly. “That’s a bad fire all right.”

  She didn’t try to tell him he was wrong or look uncomfortable. She looked sad, but for him.

  “Smoke jumpin’, you’re goin’ out the plane,” he said, wanting her to understand.

  “No buildings,” she agreed. “I like wide open spaces myself.”

  “They’ve got that in Strong. I don’ know much about the place, but my cousin likes it.”

  “Enough for you to go out there.”

  It was a nine-hour drive and the last bit of highway was all mountains. He’d be pulling in well after midnight, but his cousin had arranged for him to have a cottage and promised to stock the fridge with milk and beer. He had cereal in the back of the truck, and cat food for his feline companions. He didn’t need much more than that. Other than a do-over on his life so far.

  “I wanted to start again and I’ve got family near there. It seemed as good a place as any.” The words surprised him. He hadn’t told anyone his reasons for quitting Vegas.

  “I hear you there. You think they need a waitress out there?” She gave him a half-smile and then started pocketing coffee creamers.

  “You plannin’ on bein’ thirsty?” He didn’t know how to answer her question. She was gorgeous trouble and he had no idea what the diner situation was in Strong. Or how he felt about her setting up shop in the same town as him. He’d be seeing her then.

  “For the kittens.”

  He liked her soft side. He really, really did.

  ***

  When they reached his truck, she set her baggie of leftovers on the pavement and leaned over the side, rummaging in the back for her suitcase. Were those leftovers her groceries for the next couple of days?

  “Thanks for dinner,” she said.

  His phone buzzed and he checked it. A text from his cousin. Where are you?

  With Chloe.

  He typed a quick response and then reached out to help Chloe with her case. She’d packed rocks. Or the Encyclopedia Britannica. He had no idea how she’d lifted the bag into the bed of his truck earlier, but the thing had to outweigh her two to one. He hesitated and then swung the bag back into the truck.

  His phone buzzed again. Eating alone in a diner does not a Friday night make.

  He texted back: On a date.

  “Is that what we’re doing?” Chloe peeked over his shoulder. “I thought you were dumping me here.” She wasn’t much for boundaries. He’d figured that out after twenty miles, not that he had any intention of letting on just how much he enjoyed having her in his space. When he popped the door for her, she hopped right in, so maybe she’d enjoyed his company too.

  He went around the truck. No one fell in love in love going sixty miles an hour for six hours. When they got where they were going, though…well, he had some thoughts about that. He definitely didn’t want to drive off and leave Chloe standing here. She eyed him cautiously when he got in and shut the door.

  “Are we still driving buddies?”

  “I wan’ a chance,” he said.

  “A chance at what?” She crossed her right leg over her left, pink Converse kicking at his dashboard.

  “Us.”

  It was stupid to be making a move on her when she’d planned on marrying some other guy earlier today. And it wasn’t like he was offering her a ring or even a place in his heart. But…the possibility teased him. He saw lots of possibilities when he looked at Chloe. The real question was: what did she see when she looked at him?

  “I’ll bet they could use a waitress out at Strong. And I can call my cousin, see if he knows someplace where you could crash until you’ve got your feet on the ground.”

  “Uh-huh. Stop the car.”

  Had he scared her off? Misread her? He killed the engine—and she launched herself at him. Her hands found his shoulders, pulling him close. Thank God. She wanted this possibility too. She smelled good and felt even better. He wanted to hold her, to keep her safe after her shit day—and he wanted to do other things too. He covered her mouth with his and gave up his battle to ignore the arousal burning through him. That was one firefight he’d lost.

  Instead, he kissed her and she opened up, letting him in. Her cheek was silky smooth beneath his fingers, small strands of her fair tickling his face. Her lips teased his right back, her tongue tangling with his. She tasted like peach lip gloss, sweet pie, and…Chloe. Oui. His new someone special. He couldn’t have stopped himself from kissing her if the whole parking lot had caught on fire.

  She let out a husky groan that made him hold her even tighter, closer.

  His Chloe. He hadn’t known he was looking for her and not Strong when he left Vegas this morning. He lifted his head and smiled at her. She was the perfect kind of trouble.

  “Drive,” she whispered, but then she kissed him again and he forgot all about leaving because he was too busy driving her wild.

  Series List

  Contemporary Romance – Smoke Jumpers

  BURNING UP (Smoke Jumpers, Book 1)

  SLOW BURN (Smoke Jumpers, Book 2)

  BURNS SO BAD (Smoke Jumpers, Book 3)

  SMOKING HOT (Smoke Jumpers, Book 4)

  SWEET BURN (Smoke Jumpers, Book 5)

  Contemporary Romance – The Hotshots

  REBURN (The Hotshots, 1)

  HOT ZONE (The Hotshots, 2)

  FIRED UP (The Hotshots, 3, in HOT SHOTS)

  Contemporary Romance – Men of Discovery Island

  WICKED SEXY (Men of Discovery Island, 1)

  WICKED NIGHTS (Men of Discovery Island, 2)

  WICKED SECRETS (Men of Discovery Island, 3 -- Winter 2015)

  Paranormal Romance – Blue Moon Brides

  TEMPTED BY THE PACK (Blue Moon Brides, Book 1)

  PLEASURED BY THE PACK (Blue Moon Brides, Book 2)

  CLAIMED BY THE PACK (Blue Moon Brides, Book 3)

  TAKEN BY THE PACK (Blue Moon Brides, Book 4)

  CAPTURED BY THE PACK (Blue Moon Brides, Book 5) -- September 2014

  Paranormal Romance – The Fallen

  BOND WITH ME (Fallen, Book 1)

  HIS DARK BOND (Fallen, Book 2)

  SAVAGE BOND (Fallen, Bo
ok 3)

  Warriors Unleashed

  VIKING'S ORDERS

  BOUND BY THE VIKING (September 2014)

  AT THE VIKING'S COMMAND (October 2014)

  Non-Series Books

  THE HUNT

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  About the Author

  After ten years of graduate school and too many degrees, Anne Marsh escaped to become a technical writer. When not planted firmly in front of the laptop translating Engineer into English, Anne enjoys gardening, running (even if it’s just to the 7-11 for slurpees), and reading books curled up with her kids. The best part of writing romance, however, is finally being able to answer the question: “So… what do you do with a PhD in Slavic Languages and Literatures?” She lives in Northern California with her husband, two kids and four cats.

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  Table of Contents

  Driving Chloe Wild

  Series List

  Join the Newsletter!

  About the Author