"Fine. The truth is he walked away from you. You know that."

"He came back when I needed him."

"Yes, so he could throw it in my face that I'd ruined you."

"You told me you had to beg him to come." Tucker rubbed his temples, trying to absorb it all. "That he only came at all because he had this ranch and needed another hand."

"I can't hear you....Gotta go-"

He stared at the phone when she disconnected him, knowing the truth, that Jake had spoken it, and that Tucker had been nothing but an ungrateful, spoiled bastard to him in return. He slammed the kitchen phone down, glad Amy couldn't see the violence in him now or he'd scare her to death.

He drew a deep breath and looked around him, out the window at the wide open space he loved, at the people who ran it. These people were his real family, Jake included. And nothing could take that from him.

That evening, Callie rode out on Sierra. It was an hour before sunset, and another storm brewed. Clouds swirled and danced above her, the sky churning like the blue flames the ranch was named for. Their novelist guests were back, happy and talking animatedly about their overnight adventure. Amy had fed them a meaty lasagna, and they were all getting ready for a big bonfire that evening. Except for Jake, who was right this minute walking his Realtor and a prospective buyer around the ranch.

Callie urged Sierra into a gallop. The sheriff had come by again. He was concerned, and so was Jake.

And so was she. Not that she believed she was in any real peril. No, her danger came from losing her heart. God. She was tough enough to handle this thing between her and Jake. And whatever jerk was messing with the ranch. She could handle anything but losing the only place she'd ever considered home.

And yet she was going to lose it. Tilting her head up, she took a deep breath and watched the sky change as she rode the trail. The clouds grumbled overhead, moving swiftly, violently. She lost herself in it for a long moment, then at the sound of a horse behind her, turned and watched Jake ride toward her on Molly. "I want to be alone," she said.

"Callie-" He broke off at an odd flash of light in the hills. He cocked his head, searching the horizon. "Someone's behind the rocks over there."

A sudden loud pop startled them both as the rock on the other side of them pinged as if it'd been shot- "Jesus. Get down!" Jake leapt off Molly, hauling Callie off Sierra before she could move, shoving her ahead of him. "Run for the rocks!"

"The horses-"

"Go!" He shoved her again and she ran. It was only about ten yards but it might as well have been a wide-open football field. Her skin prickled every step of the way, anticipating the burn of a bullet. She dove behind the rocks, ducking as another shot resounded over her head, raining dirt and rock down over her. She scooted over as much as she could, expecting Jake to dive in right on her heels.

He had the reins of both horses in his hands as he ran toward her, trying to rush without spooking them. But the next shot did just that, and Sierra reared up, ripping the reins from his hands, her hooves pawing at the air, inches from Jake's head.

"Jake!" Callie surged up to her knees, horrified as Sierra bumped into Molly, and then both horses were rearing as Jake fell backward to the ground. Callie ran out from behind the rock and threw herself between Jake and the horses, standing still and calm while her heart stuck her in her throat, crooning to both horses in a soft voice she knew would reach them.

"Callie, goddammit." Jake growled, struggling back to his feet.

"Hold on." She murmured to the horses again, sweating with each passing second, just waiting for the bite of a bullet in her flesh, but it didn't come. The moment Sierra's hooves hit the ground, Jake grabbed her reins, thrust them at Callie, then grabbed Molly's reins. They all moved around the rocks. They stood there, chests heaving in shock, staring at each other. Jake shoved Molly's reins at her. "Stay here."

"Where are you going?"

"To see who the hell's taking potshots at us."

"Jake, no."

But he was gone.

21.

Jake was not a tracker, at least not out here with the sun nearly gone and mostly blocked out by the dark, thickening clouds. The rocky canyons were wide open in front of him and utterly, eerily silent. Damn, what he'd give for his cell phone and an entire squad of cops to swarm the area.

Whoever had shot at them was gone now; he knew it. He studied the rock area where they'd heard the ping of the bullet, and discovered something interesting. From where the shooter had stood, the distance hadn't been that great, one hundred feet tops.

And yet they hadn't been hit. So the shooter had terrible aim...

Or he'd been trying to miss them.

Something shimmered on the ground and he picked it up. A tiny round metal ball. A BB.

Callie came around the rock. "What?"

He opened his hand and showed her.

"A BB?" She looked as baffled as he felt. "But a BB gun wouldn't have killed us."

"It'd have hurt like hell, but no, it wouldn't have killed us, or the horses."

Their gazes met, and she looked no less unnerved by the knowledge. "Who the hell...?" She closed her eyes and shook her head. "It doesn't matter, it's working," she whispered. "I'm officially scared."

He shoved the BB in his pocket and reached for her. She moved right into his arms, her body fitting to his as if she'd been made for the spot. Burying his face in her hair, he gave himself the luxury of holding her for a long moment, while his heart gave one slow roll in his chest at what might have happened out there to her if she'd been alone. "We've got to get back."

"Oh my God, you're right. He might go there next." She grabbed her radio and called the ranch, warning them. Then she mounted Sierra. "Hurry, Jake."

She didn't have to tell him twice. What had seemed like such a beautiful spot only a moment ago, with the wide-open canyons and little else beneath a flaming darkening sky, now seemed too big, too wide open. The entire ride to the ranch, he imagined them both in someone's gun sights, and he rode just a little bit behind Callie, desperate to watch her back, to keep her safe, hating that it was entirely out of his control. He wasn't used to that, things being out of his control, and it was one hell of a long fifteen-minute ride, with his spine itching the whole way.

Two days later, the novelists left, thankfully none the wiser about the ranch's increasingly aggressive stalker. Jake knew their next guests were coming right on their heels, a family reunion, with sixteen members arriving from all over the country.

He wanted to cancel them, and even Callie had agreed, but unfortunately, more than half the guests had already begun their travel, so the decision had been made to let them come.

The sheriff and a few of his men had scoured the area where the shots had originated. They'd questioned all the ranch hands. They'd questioned their neighbors. They'd put out the word in town. No one knew anything.

In spite of that, Jake's agent called with an offer for the ranch from the New York millionaire, who'd decided she liked the idea of a tax break and a new lifestyle. She'd offered 90 percent of his asking price, and was willing to guarantee the employees one year of employment.

It was all Jake had wanted. He'd be stupid not to jump on it, and yet he hesitated.

It made no sense. He had a little over a week before he had to get back to San Diego to train recruits. His shoulder was so improved he wished he could get back to firefighting, but even "so improved" wasn't good enough. He knew he couldn't handle a hose, he couldn't climb a ladder with speed and efficiency, and he couldn't guarantee he could lift and carry a victim, much less his own gear for any length of time.

But that's not what really bothered him. He was learning to accept the fact that firefighting might be in his past, for the most part. What he was suddenly having trouble with was imagining leaving the Blue Flame. He liked to pretend that was because he worried about the ever-escalating danger, and leaving Callie to face it alone. Or that he'd started a new and different sort of relationship with Tucker, and that it was working for both of them.

But even he knew it was far more than that. He just didn't know what to do about it.

They had an overnight storm that left everything clear and glistening. The weather turned warm, almost hot. Stone came back, looking relaxed and much happier than he had when he'd left. And when their next guests arrived, the family members spent the first afternoon getting reacquainted with each other and handling the evening chores with gusto, falling in love with the puppies, two of which they claimed.

And late that night, when the guests retired to their rooms, Jake stood in the yard in the dark spring night, restless and unsettled.

"How are you holding up?"

He turned. Callie stood there looking at him. "Better now," he said, and she smiled.

But then it slowly faded. "You only have a week left," she said.

"I know."

She searched his gaze for a long moment, as if trying to make a decision. "You might not realize this, but there are still a few things you haven't experienced out here."

"Is that right?" Suddenly feeling a little less restless, certainly a lot less alone, he put his hands on her hips and pulled her close. "What's that?"

She hoisted the fishing poles she held in her hand.

He laughed. "That's definitely not what I had in mind."

"You have something against fishing?"

"Uh...not specifically."

"Okay then." She handed him a fishing pole. "Let's hit it."

He wanted to talk to her about the offer for the ranch, about how he felt about leaving, but he looked into her face and asked, "Where to?"

"Funny thing about fishing, we need water."

"You mean the river?"

"Well, I don't mean my shower."

"That's not a good idea."

"We're not going to get shot out there tonight, Jake. Look, I'm not going to be afraid and nervous and pissed off all the time. I want to live how I want to live, and so much is changing-" She pointed at him with the fishing pole when he opened his mouth. "I know, I can't stop change, but I sure as hell can be in charge of my own destiny. And tonight my destiny is fishing by moonlight, which I don't think is asking too much. So." She drew in a deep breath. "Yes or no?"

"Yes. To whatever you want."

"Now there's a dangerous promise." She led him past the hay barn and turned right, toward the first low rocky hill across the pasture.

"No horses?"

"I need to walk."

So they walked. The way was lit by the incredible sky, which felt so close and bright, Jake wanted to reach out and grab a star. Soon they came to the trail he'd taken on horseback many times now, so he knew exactly where the river curved alongside it, running parallel.

They walked side by side in the warm evening, their fingers brushing together. He took hers in his and smiled down at her. "You going to take advantage of me out here?"

She eyed him over. "I don't know. It's dirty and the ground is hard. There are bugs."

He laughed. "I haven't given you those complaints in a while now."

"You ever been skinny-dipping?"

"Oh, yeah." He sighed with remembered pleasure. "Me and Emma Peters. Good times." He laughed again when Callie yanked her hand out of his, and he grabbed it back. "We were thirteen."

Slightly mollified, she gave him a cool look as she left the path and headed down to the river's edge. "I'm not thirteen."

"For which I'm eternally grateful." They sat there, surrounded by rocky hills and bush, utterly isolated and alone, and yet unlike the last time they'd been out here, he felt no danger. The opposite, actually. This place, which he'd often thought so strange and stark and other-worldly, now felt as good a fit as the woman next to him.

She pulled a small jar of bait from her pocket and loaded her hook. The smell made his eyes water. "Baby," she called him, and loaded his hook for him, then rinsed her hands in the water. She stuck her pole in the damp, soft earth, between her knees, lay back on the ground, and stared up at the sky.

He did the same. They stayed like that for a long time, their bodies touching, the night all around them, and a peace filled him, a warm, soothing, soft peace. A little startled, he turned his head and found her looking at him.

Turning on her side, she propped her head up with her hand. "What's the matter?"

He turned on his side, too, having just realized the truth. He was falling for this amazing, different landscape. He was falling for the ranch and the people on it. And he was falling for the woman in front of him. It was just enough to make him momentarily speechless as the blood roared in his head and his bones liquefied.

"Jake?"

He started to shake his head-couldn't she see he was having a heart attack?-but she leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips. "Don't feel like talking?" she murmured. "That's okay. I have something else we can do to pass the time." She set aside the fishing poles, and slid into his arms. He closed them tight around her and held on like she was his next breath, his lifeline. Because she was.

They walked back, talking, smiling, and in Callie's case, feeling much more relaxed than she'd been before she'd jumped Jake's bones on the riverbed by moonlight. Their clothes were a little rumpled, and she was fairly certain she had river sand in places where there shouldn't be any, but she could live with that given how good she felt.

When they came into the yard, the big house was quiet and dark. Oddly enough, Michael's truck was parked behind Callie's Jeep, and her cabin lights were on. She frowned. "I wonder what's wrong for him to come out here this late."

Then her door opened and Michael stepped out onto the small square porch. He lifted his hand to shade his eyes from the glare of the porch light and looked across the yard to where they stood. "There you are," he called out. His voice was filled with relief, and a forced good cheer. On his face was a misery that tore at her.

She turned to Jake. "I'd better go see-"

"Yeah." He took her fishing pole.

"I'm sorry."

"Not a problem." He leaned into her and gave her one soft, warm kiss. He pulled back, looked at her for a long moment, then kissed her again, just a little longer this time. "Thanks for the fishing. And everything else," he added silkily.

She bit back her dreamy smile and watched him go, then walked to her cabin. "Hey you," she said to Michael. "Everything okay?"

"Come talk to me." He held open her door. "Please?"

"Sure." She stepped inside, where she stopped and gasped in shock and surprise. There were candles everywhere, along the floor, on every countertop, on her coffee table, and in each windowsill, all lit and flickering fiercely. In addition, rose petals had been scattered on every surface of the small cabin, filling the air with their strong scent.

"For you," Michael said, and shut the cabin door.

She turned in a slow circle, absolutely stunned by the amount of time he'd spent putting everything together. He took her hands, looked down at them, at her fingernails still lined with fish bait. "It was the only way I could think of to tell you what I should have told you the day we met, and every day since."

Oh, God. "Michael-"

"Callie, I love you. I've always loved you, through your entire short and stupid marriage to Matt, a man who never appreciated you, through you working your fingers to the bone for that tyrant Richard-"