"The Blue Flame." He managed a smile past the odd lump in his throat. "We're sort of a collection of misfits and outcasts and former wanderlusts."

Picking up the full cookie tray, Amy let her shoulder jab him in the chest, just hard enough to set him back a step, as she passed him on her way to the oven. "Excuse me."

Her charming little way of reminding him not to get too close, he supposed, rubbing his chest. When she'd settled the cookie sheet in the oven, she straightened and wiped her hands on her apron. Then she looked him right in the eyes. "I'm not a misfit or an outcast or a former wanderlust. I'm just trying to do my job and stay out of everyone's way, yours included."

"My mistake, then."

"Yeah." She turned to the sink and began to rinse dishes. Dismissing him.

With a sigh for the brick wall he'd hit, he took one last envious look at the cookies beginning to rise in the oven, and did as she wanted, left her alone.

Late that night Callie sat on her bed reading a magazine instead of sleeping because images kept popping into her head. Jake pulling her from beneath Sierra's flailing hooves before she could get stomped on. Jake coaxing that poor, starving dog into letting him save her puppy. Jake finding Keito and keeping him safe.

Jake kissing her, touching her, as if she'd been more important at that moment than air.

She couldn't get the thought of him falling through a roof out of her mind, and all that he must have suffered. He had to be hurting, and missing his life. Missing his job. She was so lost in the wondering about that, when the soft knock came at her door, she nearly fell off the bed.

She looked down at herself. The sunshine-yellow spaghetti-strapped satin tank top and matching panties she'd just gotten on sale from the Internet absolutely weren't suitable for company. She grabbed a robe. "Who is it?"

"Me."

She had no trouble recognizing the low, deep voice, and even if she hadn't, the way her body tightened in response would have told her it was Jake. Her body always knew him, craved him, even when her mind tried to resist.

He knocked again, just once, and she rested her forehead on the door, her heart beating like a wild drum.

"Callie?"

She put a hand to her chest as if she could hold her heart safe. In the light of day she could have resisted him, but there was no light here, no warmth, no sun, and suddenly she needed him. "I'm not dressed."

"I don't care. I just want to see you."

He sounded like maybe he was hurting, and one thing she'd never been able to do was ignore someone in pain. She debated with herself for another second, then opened the door.

He didn't say a word, just looked at her with that intriguing, irresistible mixture of affection, the need to strangle her, and a longing that nearly brought her to her knees.

So he felt it, too, she marveled, all the pent-up emotions that drove her so crazy. "Are you all right?"

"Yes." He paused. "No." He let out a breath. "Actually, I'm not sure." He started to step in but she mustered up some pride and blocked him. He just looked at her with those eyes of his and everything within her quivered in reaction to the hunger there.

"Is your shoulder hurting?" she asked.

"If I said yes, is that the password?"

"Jake-"

"Because it's killing me. But that's nothing new."

Her heart melted. There'd be no resisting him, not tonight anyway, and she moved aside.

He shut the door behind him, then leaned back against it and pulled her to him. "Callie." Just that, just her name whispered in a raw, tortured voice as he skimmed a hand down her hair, over her shoulder.

"What is it?"

"I don't know."

He sounded nearly destroyed. "Oh, Jake," she murmured, and unable to resist soothing him, she slid her arms around his neck. "Is it being here? Tucker? Not fighting fires? What?"

"All of the above."

She tightened her grip on him. "I'm sorry."

He buried his face into the crook of her neck and held on tight. "I feel a little dead inside. But not when I'm with you, never with you. Make me feel alive tonight, Callie, the way only you can."

Her breath caught. Any resistance she'd managed to hold on to flew out the window. "I do that for you?"

"Oh, yeah." The silky robe slid off one shoulder, not enough to expose her but enough to change his breathing. The pad of his finger danced lightly over her collar bone, and then he tipped up her face and kissed her, his mouth tasting so good, his body firm and warm against hers. He cupped her breast, his thumb gliding over her nipple, which was already tight and aching for his attention.

He looked a little dazed at the heat they seemed to generate. "Stop me now if you're going to," he murmured hoarsely. "And I'll go."

Her body throbbed with sensual hunger. Stopping wasn't on her mind.

"Callie? I'm not much for subtleties, so you're going to have to give me a sign here."

She didn't understand how much she wanted this. Him. But she slipped out of the robe, nudging off her straps while she was at it, then took his hand from her face and set it against her breast.

He let out a shaky breath. "That's a damn good sign." He tugged the satin down to her waist and let out a purely male growl before bending his head and opening his mouth on her. He used his lips, his tongue, his teeth, until she was burning up from the inside out. Other thoughts tried to invade. This was crazy; she couldn't possibly want him this way; she would regret this come the light of day; but she shoved them all out of her head the way she nearly had that long ago night, and held on as if he were her lifeline.

He touched the bruises flowering on her ribs and made a low sound of regret. "Looks like I'm not the only one hurting." He took her hand and led her to her bed. She sank to the futon mattress and he followed her down, facing her in the low light.

"You're overdressed," she murmured.

"I feel overdressed." He began to lift his arms when she tugged on his shirt, then hissed out a pained breath.

"Let me," she said, and helped him out of his clothes, taking the utmost care with his poor abused body, putting her lips to his scar. She couldn't take her eyes off him, because despite various other scars he sported from head to toe, he was still the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. She was just worrying about how she couldn't possibly compare when he pressed her back. He whispered her name and then kissed her, long and deep, sliding one warm palm inside her panties, tracing her wet flesh with his fingers, drawing another rough sound from both their throats. His mouth made its way from her jaw to her ear, and there he told her what he wanted to do to her, using words that should have shocked her but only made her wetter.

His mouth forged a path with hot, open kisses over her collarbone, down to a breast, skimming the silk off her as he went. He kissed her belly, her thigh. And then in between. She was so primed and ready that she nearly came on the first stroke of his tongue, and on the second she did.

He had a condom. After he put it on, he looked at her from between her splayed legs, jaw tight, body trembly. "Callie..."

She realized it was pain, not pleasure on his face, and she sat up. "What? Your shoulder?"

"Yeah. I can't-"

He couldn't brace himself over her, and when she thought about it, she marveled that they'd gotten this far. But they had, and her body was still throbbing with pleasure. She had to give him the same. "Oh, Jake...here-" She pulled him down to his back.

He looked up at her from beneath heavy-lidded eyes so filled with heat and desire he took her breath. Poor wounded warrior. He sucked in a breath when she threw a leg over him, and not from pain this time. Her hands went to his jaw, wanting to ease the tension there. "How can I make it better?" she whispered.

"Trust me, you're well on your way."

She ran her hands down his chest, over his belly, which besides being ridged with muscle, quivered at her touch. She didn't expect that sign of nerves, or her reaction to it, which was a slow melting of her insides. There was a connection here that she hadn't counted on. Then he deepened it by whispering her name softly, longingly, and she stared down at him, her already wired senses completely overcome.

"If you're changing your mind again," he said in a ragged voice. "Just kill me now."

"No." Her fingers wrapped around his impressive erection, and holding his gaze, she lifted up and guided him home. But he didn't get very far, and frustrated, she slumped over him. "It's been a long time."

"Shh." He lifted a hand to where she was trying to help him inside her. Moving her fingers away, his thumb brushed across her center in a light, teasing circle that had her gasping at the delicious touch.

He sent her up a dizzyingly wicked smile. Had she thought he wouldn't fit? His touch opened something deep within her, and she sank down on him, discovering he fit just right.

His fingers dug into her hip, urging her to move, and when she did, he arched up into her, their twin moans mingling in the air. With him filling her to bursting, and his thumb sliding over her, pleasure rocked her world. As they moved together in perfect rhythm, something very deep and soul-grabbing flickered between them, and she felt herself start to spiral. As she took the plunge, he went with her, pulling her down closer to him, burrowing his face in her hair as he groaned.

Afterward, they lay there entangled, breathing as though they'd run five miles uphill. Afraid she might be hurting him, she tried to slide off but his arms tightened around her.

So she stayed, her muscles still spasming periodically in pure overloaded bliss, absorbing the lazy stroke of his hand up and down her spine. Eventually he got up and went into her bathroom, and when he came out, he sat next to her in all his naked, unself-conscious glory.

"Feeling alive now?" she asked.

"Yeah." He smiled and ran a finger over her shoulder. "I'm feeling far more than half a man, too."

"Is that how you see yourself?"

"Without firefighting, yeah."

"Oh, Jake."

He stood up. "I don't want your pity."

"I'm not offering you any. Just a little sympathy."

"I don't want that, either. But I'd take round two."

A moment ago she'd felt like cuddling him. Now she wanted to chuck a pillow at his head. "We should talk about it, Jake."

"About what?"

"About how you're hurting. Missing your job. Your father. Tucker-"

"I don't want to talk." He moved around the cabin, picking up the clothing they'd so haphazardly tossed in all directions only a little while before, pulling on his jeans before he glanced at her. "I should go."

She had no idea why she'd expected something different. "Right."

He sighed again. "Callie-" He looked at her for a long moment, hair tousled, clothes disheveled, looking so damn sexy she could hardly stand it. "Nothing."

Disappointment was a vice on her heart, cooling her still-heated skin. "Bye, Jake."

"Bye." Her front door shut behind him.

Body still humming, Callie lay back. "That was it," she told herself. "No more." So why her body quivered and hungered for more, even as she turned over and forced herself to sleep, was a complete and irritating mystery.

8.

What seemed like only ten minutes after he'd crawled onto his cot, Jake awoke with a start. This was due to Tucker climbing off the couch and kicking him on the back of the head with his foot as he did-not, Jake was certain, entirely by accident.

"Sorry," Tucker muttered, sounding anything but.

Jake had been dreaming about being back in Callie's bed, which had been a great place to be. So great that when he'd been there last night, he hadn't wanted to leave, which in turn had given him a panic attack, and he'd nearly killed himself to get out. "What the hell time is it?"

"Five thirty. Time to rise and shine, city boy."

Jake had to laugh at that. "You used to be a city boy yourself. You used to whine like a baby when I'd wake you for kindergarten."

"Yeah, well, that was a damn long time ago." Wearing only his boxers, Tucker grabbed his jeans off the floor and headed toward the bathroom.

"I'd have to peel you off me to get you on the bus," Jake called out.

Tucker tripped but caught himself. The bathroom door slammed behind him.

Jake lay back and studied the ceiling. Dawn never seemed this early when he was in the firehouse. And it was butt-cold out here for spring. The windows were fogged.

He didn't want to get up. He'd have liked to just lie there and think about the amazing sex he'd had last night, but as with everything out in the boondocks, even that had ended badly.

His own fault. He'd been a shit for leaving like that, when all she'd wanted to do was talk, and he deserved whatever she dished out today. He wondered what form his torture would take. Feeding more pigs? Moving more cows?

And who willingly did those things every day?

Maybe these people were all crazy. Yeah, that would explain a lot.

The shower turned on.

All hell, they weren't crazy. No one crazy would get up at dawn like Tucker and work so hard or be so dedicated. And Jake had to admit, stretching, wincing at the ache in his shoulder, that his baby brother was both. He wore responsibility surprisingly well.

An extremely welcome change.

After a few more minutes, the bathroom door opened and a fully dressed Tucker headed toward the front door.

"Tuck?"

One hand on the door, Tucker hesitated. "Yeah?"

"When are you going to forgive me for leaving you?"