The Family Man

So he continued to his house and the life that was emptier than he’d ever dreamed possible.

“ARE WE THE FIRST VISITORS from Silver Bend this morning?” Lexie stood on the front porch with plump little Henry propped on one hip. Her smile was dazzling, but as genuine as her little boy’s. Lexie’s brown hair was pulled back into a mother’s utilitarian ponytail. “We just dropped Heidi off at school, so I thought we’d come by to check on you. Did you make it through the night okay?”

“We were fine.” Thea let them in, taking the blue quilted diaper bag from Lexie. “Am I going to get more visitors today? The casseroles yesterday were…interesting.” They wouldn’t need to cook for a week—if she could get the girls to eat them.

“Small town. Half the population over fifty.” Lexie rolled her eyes. “Oh-ho, are you going to get visitors. Each one will dust off the old family recipe.” She shuddered, then sank onto the couch and settled Henry on her lap.

“It doesn’t sound so bad.” Cities were so impersonal. Even at her university, you could pass by hundreds of students without anyone ever looking you in the eye, much less be concerned about you.

“She doesn’t suspect, does she, Hot Shot?” Lexie played with one of Henry’s chubby fists. “They’ll know where she was born by dinnertime.”

Thea was reminded of the relentless questioning from the trio in the Painted Pony.

“So, if you have any secrets you want to keep, practice your poker face and changing the subject.” Lexie continued, “Not that we aren’t fond of them all, it’s just that…well, we love it when there’s a big political scandal to keep them busy.”

“Thanks, I think.” Thea sat on the opposite end of the brown couch, catching sight of Tess lingering in the hallway as she did so. “How old is Henry?”

“Nearly eight months.” Lexie blew a raspberry in his fist, and he giggled. “We nearly lost him when he was born. But you’re a fighter like your dad, aren’t you, Hot Shot?”

“And your husband is a…uh…Hot Shot, too?” Thea was becoming incredibly curious about Logan and his Hot Shot job.

Lexie nodded. “Firefighting runs in Jackson’s veins. He’d be miserable if he couldn’t fight fires.”

Henry sneezed. Lexie efficiently wiped his nose with a tissue, dodging the chubby hand that batted hers away.

“I’m a Hot Shot, too,” Lexie blurted. After a moment of uncharacteristic hesitation, she pulled a jar out of her diaper bag and handed it to Thea.

“Hot Shot Marinade.” Thea read the colorful label. “How cool. Are you a saleswoman?”

“I am Hot Shot Sauces. I’m head cook, bottler and salesman.” Lexie drew Henry closer, eliciting a squawk out of the boy. She laughed self-consciously. “He’s right, I’m taking myself too seriously. It’s just that I’ve never done anything except be a wife and mother.”

It took Thea a moment to sort all Lexie’s achievements—wife, mother, businesswoman. “Don’t put yourself down. I’m even a bit envious. You have it all.” Even though they seemed about the same age, Thea had years of study and work ahead of her before kids were a possibility. In her eyes, Lexie had set the bar as high as Thea’s mother had. Still… “Isn’t it hard? Glen said something last night about Hot Shots being gone a lot. And running a business when you have two kids…”

“Sure, it’s hard. Forget seeing any Hot Shot in the summer for more than twenty-four hours at a time. It’s pretty steady nine-to-five work in town from November to March.” She laughed. “I mean, they’re in town if they’re part of the permanent staff, like Jackson and Logan. But I’ve tried living without him, and it just wasn’t what I wanted.” Lexie grinned. “What can I say? I love the lug.”

Thea found herself grinning back, even though her heart gave a small, envious pang. What would it be like to have a love that strong? “You must be brilliant as well as lucky in love.”

“Your time will come. If you stick around, you can have your pick of the other Hot Shots.” Lexie bounced Henry gently. “Not that it’s easy to catch one. Most of them don’t know the meaning of the phrase settle down. Or, they’re stuck in a rut.”

“A rut?”

“That’s a nice way of saying some of them have yet to grow up. Some got dumped and have sworn off women. Others don’t realize they weren’t put on this earth to sleep with as many women as they can.” She sighed. “Then there’s Logan. He’s always been a ladies’ man, but he can’t seem to get past his grief or his anger over losing Deb. He had a temper before, but now he’s got the shortest fuse known to man.”

Cognizant of Tess eavesdropping in the hallway, Thea lowered her voice. “He’ll be fine with the girls, won’t he?”

Lexie looked Thea directly in the eyes. “He’d do anything for those girls.”

There was an odd sound in the hallway, followed by retreating footsteps.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Thea. I know Logan’s going to need help with Hannah and Tess.”

“Whoa. Wait.” Thea shook her head. “I’m not staying. I’m getting my Ph.D. I brought the girls here because Wes is AWOL and they had nowhere else to turn.”

“They’ll still have nowhere to turn. Fire season is starting. You can’t just leave them.” Lexie’s expression dimmed.

Thea thought about the untouched pile of textbooks and notes in the kitchen, about the physical condition and mental state of Glen, about the bare interior of the house, and two little girls with broken hearts. In her mind’s eye, she saw her mother leaving for good, but not before she wrenched a promise from Thea to reach for the stars and refuse to settle.

“Well,” Lexie said finally. “Things have a way of working out, don’t they?”

THE RED CAUGHT HIS EYE first as Logan rounded the bend toward his driveway.

Red giving way to a slender pair of legs.

Then the other colors hit him. Yellow, blue, orange. The spectrum of the rainbow glinted against the light dusting of snow on the ground and the yellow Volkswagen in his driveway.

By the time Logan got out of the truck, it had registered that a woman did indeed belong to the car. A woman with killer legs and a dog.

Said dog was little and white with brown spots and short fur. At the moment, he was lifting his leg over the shrubs edging Logan’s porch.

“Good morning. Are you Logan McCall?” The woman’s voice was melodious, as colorful as the red denim skirt she wore topped with a bright orange T-shirt. Totally inappropriate attire for early spring in the mountains.

Not that he didn’t appreciate the view. He just didn’t appreciate the invasion of his privacy.

Logan pushed his sunglasses higher up on his nose and emitted a gruff reply. “Yeah, I’m McCall.” Thoughts of coming home to silence, a hot shower and twelve hours of sleep faded. Why was this woman here?

“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it? Not a cloud in the sky.” She laughed a little self-consciously and shifted her feet.

Logan stared at the woman’s bright red sneakers. She’d laced her shoes with little silver bells so that her feet tinkled every time she moved.

He made the mistake of looking her in the face for the first time. She had warm brown eyes that crinkled when she smiled. Somehow, he’d known she’d have the kind of expression that made you want to smile back. No one could drive a Volkswagen like that and not be cheerful.

Something was wrong. He could feel it. Women like this didn’t show up on his doorstep unless… “Where’s Aunt Glen?”

“She’s inside with the girls.” The woman had a way of standing still that made it seem as if she were moving. Maybe she did move. A thin layer of snow crunched softly beneath those red shoes. There was something about her that was…intriguing.

As if he’d heard a car coming, Logan looked down the driveway, taking his time before asking, “What girls?” Part of him wanted to believe she had a carload of women in his house, but he suspected that wasn’t the case.

The dog trotted over to sniff Logan’s mud-caked Black Diamond fire boots.

“Whizzer, no,” she warned the dog.

Logan bent down and petted the friendly dog. Ignoring the woman’s bare, slender ankles that led up to shapely, fine legs, he craned his neck around until he could see the Volkswagen’s license plate. Washington. Last time he’d seen Wes, his truck had sported Washington plates. His hand stilled as the dog danced away.

“That explains a lot of things,” he observed as the anger pooled in his belly, welcome in its ability to obliterate all other feeling. His nieces were inside, which meant that Wes was close by. “Where’s Wes?”

“I don’t know.” The joy seemed to have gone out of her tone. Even the bells on her feet were silent. “I haven’t heard from him in over a month.”

Logan snorted in disbelief. From where he knelt on the ground, he could look up and see her over the top of his sunglasses. She didn’t seem so bright and sunny now. In fact, her eyes darted around as if she was starting to panic. Maybe she was going to cry.