Getting Married Again

“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.