"Jake, move."

"Wait." He leaned in further. His shirt came untucked from his faded Levi's.

Not that she noticed. To distract herself, she opened the door. "Shep. You coming or what?"

The old dog groaned, got to his feet.

"I wouldn't bother, old buddy." Jake reappeared and looked at Callie. "Someone pulled your coil wire."

"What are you talking about?"

"It's missing. You think Lou took it?"

"No. Why would he?" She hopped back out of the Jeep and looked under the hood again, unable to believe her eyes. Why hadn't she seen this before? "No wonder I couldn't start the thing."

"Yeah. Callie-" He broke off at the sound of a truck rumbling up the driveway.

Michael's Dodge. He got out of the truck and walked over to them. "Hey, babe," he said, pulling Callie into a friendly embrace. Only a little taller than she, he was blond and blue-eyed, and so perfectly featured he should have been in the movies alongside other current hotties like Orlando Bloom. But financing was his thing and so was Arizona, and she was glad. He felt warm and familiar and safe as he hugged her, and she resisted the urge to put her head on his shoulder.

"Ready for lunch?" he asked, squeezing her gently.

She lifted her head and gave him a baffled smile. "I didn't know you were picking me up. I was coming to meet you, but I have Jeep issues. Michael, this is Jake Rawlins."

"Ah." Michael shook Jake's hand, his eyes assessing. "Figured I'd meet you sooner or later. What's the matter with the Jeep, Callie?" He stuck his head under the hood. "Your coil wire is missing."

"We know that much," she said.

"We just don't know why," Jake said.

The two men looked at each other for a long moment, doing the size-the-other-man-up thing, and Callie barely resisted rolling her eyes. They were both incredibly good-looking men, and also incredibly different. Jake was taller, leaner, and definitely edgier, with an air of mystery Michael could never achieve. But truthfully, any man would have paled a little standing next to the sheer maleness of Jake.

"You shouldn't let just anyone drive the thing," Michael said to her. "I saw Stone in it last week, and Eddie in it yesterday getting gas for you. And you just let Lou tune it up. You do know why he was let go from Roger's."

"Yes, but he's innocent of those charges."

"Roger's an ass," Michael allowed. "Still, anyone could be messing with you. We can get a new coil wire in town after we eat."

"Well, if Lou took it while he was working on the Jeep, he had a good reason. Maybe he's just getting me a new one." Callie turned to Jake. "I'll be back. We're just going to go over some financial-"

"No, we're not. No wasting our lunch date on business talk." Michael waved at Jake before leading her to his truck. "Everyone deserves a break, and that's what this is. A lunch break."

Callie craned her neck as she pulled on her seatbelt. Jake was already walking away. "Why did you do that?" she asked Michael when he got behind the wheel.

"Do what?"

"Let him think this is a date. It's a working lunch, and you know it. I want to talk about getting a loan, and what I need-"

"He was looking at you funny. Like he wanted to gobble you up." Michael's searing blue eyes suddenly weren't light and friendly, but protective. And worried. "You want to buy Blue Flame from that man? Then you want to be friendly but distant. Nice but cool. Not a pushover, and definitely not available."

Callie shook her head, but laughed at his twisted logic. Being distant and cool just might keep her out of Jake's arms. "Maybe you're right."

"I always am, babe. Always am." He shoved the truck into gear and drove into town.

The Japanese businessmen left. That night, when Lou came back from town, Callie asked him about the coil wire.

"It was there when I was working on the Jeep," he said with such confusion that she believed him. He went out to check for himself, and scratched his head. "That's odd."

More than odd, but she'd already picked up another coil wire, so she put it out of her head because her poor brain was too full to dwell.

A group of Tucson librarians came the next day for a ride to an abandoned ghost town, guided by Eddie and Stone. Stone had been sick in the morning but thankfully had recovered enough to take them. Callie had a bad feeling he'd simply been hungover yet again, but since he'd been able to do his job, she didn't interfere.

While they were gone, Lou, Tucker, and Jake painted the barn. Lou worked on the inside, Jake and Tucker on the outside. Callie joined Lou until the fumes got to her, then moved outside in time to hear Jake telling Tucker about the coil wire. The two men looked at each other for a long moment.

Later Callie went in to get drinks and when she came out, she found them arguing.

"Something's up," Jake was saying. "I can feel it."

"What's up is your horrible painting," Tucker said.

"I'm doing it left-handed. And you're changing the subject."

"I'm not sure it'd matter if you switched hands, bro."

"I'm trying to talk about Callie."

"Stow the save-the-world complex. Save it for firefighting."

Jake stopped painting altogether at that and squared off to face Tucker. "You're as bad as she is. Something's going on out here. Don't tell me you're so selfish that you'd put your hatred of me before her safety."

Tucker stopped painting, too, and dropped his brush into the paint. "No. Damn it. I'll keep my eyes out for her."

"Both of us will," Jake said firmly.

"How about I keep my own eyes out for myself?" Callie handed them their drinks. "Because if something's going on, and it would seem that it is, it couldn't be about me."

"How do you figure?" Jake asked. "Your horse, your Jeep."

"The ranch." She rubbed her temples. "It's got to be about the ranch. Look, we'll figure it out." She could see the worry and strain in each of them and managed a smile she didn't quite feel. What she did feel was a lump in her throat for these two tall, stubborn, beautiful men looking at her in mutual concern, not even realizing how alike they really were. "And anyway, we have much more to worry about."

"Like?" Jake asked darkly.

"Like..." They both looked so serious. So intense. She wanted to change that. She wanted to see them laugh. Lifting her brush from the red paint tray, she turned to Tucker and dabbed it right in the middle of his chest.

Tucker sputtered.

Jake grinned.

"Oh, you like that?" she asked him silkily, and repeated the favor on his chest.

He looked down at the hand span-wide mark of red paint in shock. "I can't believe you did that."

Tucker moved behind her, gestured to Jake over her shoulder. She knew this because Jake's face split into an evil grin. "Callie?" he said.

"Yeah?"

"You'll want to run now," he said softly.

Before she could, her arms were seized from behind by Tucker, and she was pulled back against his chest.

"Warned ya." Jake reached down for his brush with his left hand and came up with that wicked smile. He stepped close.

Laughing, she tried to tug free from Tucker. "Don't even think about it."

"Oh, I'm thinking about it. How about you, Tucker?"

"I'm thinking about it, too," Tucker said in her ear.

"Don't you dare-"

Jake painted a big X on her chest, taking his time about it, too.

Tucker let go of her, and the two of them looked at her and laughed uproariously.

She tried to remain indignant but the sight of these two men laughing, together, was a sight. Almost unbearably touched, she turned her back, not wanting them to see, but they only laughed harder.

Because she was also wearing the paint from the front of Tucker all down her back.

That night Callie spent some time in her office, working on the ranch's books. Normally she loved this part of her job, being alone, entering numbers, seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, but tonight she felt distracted and it wasn't just the scent of paint still on her skin.

Michael had dropped off the loan application she'd requested. It was a few years early in her life plan, but her life plan had been altered. She'd talked to Michael about it in detail. As a solution, he'd offered her a job at his mortgage company, which she took to mean he didn't think she could qualify for a loan.

The job was in data entry, a starter position, but she could make more money than here at the Blue Flame. He said she could rent one of the houses he owned in Three Rocks real cheap. He'd offered this countless times since Richard's death, and she'd never even considered it. She didn't now, either.

Alone, stressed and worried, she dropped her head in her hands and rubbed her temples. When the phone rang, she looked at the clock, startled to discover it was past nine already. "Blue Flame."

"I'm looking for Tucker Mooney."

The voice was feminine and carrying what Callie would have sworn was a fake English accent. Odd. Tucker had led a colorful early life, she knew this, but since he'd come here, he'd had no contact from anyone from that old life. That had been part of the deal when Jake had given him the job two years ago. He hadn't looked back.

He had a tight-knit group of friends in town, including some young women, one of whom was Macy, the ranch's on-call massage therapist. Callie knew them all, and this woman on the phone was one she'd never met. "I'm sorry, but he's gone into town for the evening."

"Oh, damn." The European accent took a dive, straight into an annoyed American one.

"Can I take a message?"

"How about Jakey?"

"Excuse me?"

"Jake Rawlins. My other boy. I know he's there; I saw his face plastered across every single newspaper in San Diego, so I called his station. They told me where to find him."

"Uh..."

"Tell him it's his momma. And hurry up, honey, I don't have all night. This is a long distance call."

9.

Jake had done his physical therapy every day. It was time-consuming and not a little painful, but he wanted to get back to work-God, did he want to get back to work-so he'd been diligent.

But he hated the weight room. No doubt that was due to the humiliation of Callie's rescue there, but he'd been doing his exercises in the barn and been happier for it.

Tonight he walked between the stalls lining either side, watched by a curious Sierra. He stopped to pet her and check on her sides, which were healing. While he stood there Moe stuck his head over his stall, and before Jake could figure out what that meant, the horse opened his mouth and clamped his teeth on the back pocket of Jake's jeans, which held his cell phone. "Hey!"

Without letting go, Moe eyed him.

Jake broke free and clamped his hand over the spot. "What the hell is your problem?"

Moe snorted and turned away.

Jake rubbed his butt. "I could send you off to the glue factory. You know that, right?" He stared at an unrepentant Moe, then had to shake his head at himself for even caring that the horse hated him. Still muttering, he began his pull-ups on a hanging wood beam. He got to three before the muscles in his shoulder and bicep started trembling like a baby's.

He forced himself to five, then hung, panting. His physical therapist had demanded ten, building up to three sets of ten. He could no more do that than hop to the moon, and yet once upon a time he'd have been able to do them forever. Now, as he hung there, he tried to consider what life would be like without firefighting, but his heart took a slow roll in his chest.

No. He wasn't going there. Arms quaking wildly, he forced his sixth and seventh pull-up, then dropped to the floor.

Moe stuck his head out again, and snickered.

"Yeah," Jake said, flat on his back, his shoulder on fire. "Get a good look."

The door of the barn opened. Moonlight spilled in, as well as the silhouette of a woman holding a flashlight. "Jake?" She rushed forward. "What happened?"

"Nothing. You just go about your life, maybe even on another date with Michael, and I'll go about mine."

She stared down at him. "What is your problem?"

"No problem." Jake got to his feet even though he wanted to curl into a little whimpering ball.

"I wasn't on a date with Michael. Not a date date, anyway. Not that I need to explain myself to you."

"Whatever." Christ, listen to him. He was an ass.