Page 16 of Wildfire
"You coasties tend to like things the way they are. The news might cause people to want to change." He grins at me like he is teasing, but I know he is right. Not many outsiders would find their way to our town, and people like it that way. But it also means that when businesses shut, nothing takes their place. The town is dying, and I was dying right along with it.
"That's partly why I wanted to leave."
"Partly?"
"Aside from being a singer, I didn't want to spend my life in the backwaters. And here I come to find that a little over a hundred miles and over one minor mountain pass, a town welcomes people every year. You must meet a lot of interesting folks."
He looks at me with puppy eyes, and I feel my body warm in all the wrong places. "Some are more interesting than others."
I can't help but test the waters. It's in my nature to push buttons. "Do you meet a lot of pretty women?"
He chokes on his drink, sets it down, and slowly wipes his hands on his apron. "Caleb has that covered."
"So you've never met a woman you liked who came into town for the summer?"
His eyes slice to mine, and he chews his lip momentarily. It's like watching some sexy hero think about making the moves on the damsel in distress he just saved.
Wait. I'm the damsel.
"There may be one."
"One?" My neck feels hot, and I press the cold glass of whiskey against it to cool off. The timer chirps its alarm, and he pulls his gaze away.
"Dinner's ready."
Chapter Nine: Cole
Dinner is an exercise in restraint. I keep reminding myself that Renée is leaving in a couple of weeks. She has big dreams, just like Sadie did, and doesn't need to get tangled up with the likes of me.
I feel twisted up in knots as we eat our quiche and salad. Especially because Renée keeps moaning with every bite, and I want to wipe the crumbs off her lips and kiss her. I want to nibble on that bottom lip she keeps pursing when thinking about home. I want to wipe the worry away from whatever haunts her. What gave her those nightmares last night.
But I can't. I won't for self-preservation and because she is obviously not in a good place. I don't want to be the one who makes it worse. So we eat our dinner, and I tell her about my visit with Chief Johnson's widow.
"I think that's sweet you check on her."
"They don't have any kids, or they don't have any surviving children. So, no one is checking on her. If I don't do it, who will?"
"Seriously, that is the sweetest thing I have ever heard. But what do you mean about surviving children?"
"They had one kid. A son. And he got leukemia. After he passed away, they buried themselves in their jobs, and that was it."
"And now her husband is gone?"
"Yeah. She's all alone."
"I'm sure she appreciates you coming by."
"She does, but especially after the fire yesterday morning."
"Why's that?"
"It was the third one this month."
"Is that a lot?"
"More than usual before the start of tourist season. The weather patterns around here have been changing for the last several years. It's hotter and drier. And both the heat and dry conditions last longer. Luckily, it also rains more during the wet season, so we are managing a balance. For now. But this? This feels off. My other brother, who you haven't met, is a forest ranger who manages the giant state park in the mountains. So we work together in the summer to deal with the uptick of hazards and little blazes that happen with all the campers that come through. Someone always forgets to put out their fire completely. And now, with the weather changing, we've got shorter and shorter windows of time you can evenhavea fire, which isn't good for tourism, of course. People don't want to go camping without a fire."
"So what are you going to do?"
