Beautiful Burn (The Maddox Brothers, #4)(103)
“What does it say?”
“He’s just checking in, asking if everyone is okay.”
I leaned up to his ear, kissing his cheek. “Told you.”
“No way,” he said, tapping out a reply and then putting his phone away.
“He’s a former detective. You think he can’t figure you out?”
“Why wouldn’t he say anything?”
I shrugged. “Maybe he’s just letting you think you’ve fooled him. Maybe he knows there’s a reason why you lied, so he’s letting it go.”
“Since Dad’s psychic, maybe he can tell me when you’re going to pick a date for the wedding,” he said, only half-teasing.
I slipped my hand under Tyler’s T-shirt, running my fingertips up his chest. “I thought you said you didn’t care.”
“Of course I care, baby. I’m just not going to pressure you about it.”
Tyler’s skin was warm under my hand, his chest rising and falling with each breath. I thought about when we first met, how sweaty and sexy he had been, trading punches in my parents’ gallery room. We had conquered heaven and hell, fire and ice, and he’d stuck with me through it all.
“My mother seems to be very concerned about me affording the condo.”
“Yeah, but your dad’s not worried.”
“If Taylor’s going to be a dad … won’t he and Falyn need their own place?”
“Yeah, wow. I hadn’t thought about that.”
“Maybe you should give them the apartment, and you move into the condo with me?”
Tyler turned onto his side and propped his head with his hand. “What?” he said, suspicious.
I shrugged. “You can pay half the rent. We can get married after fire season…”
Tyler’s eyebrows shot up. “After this fire season?”
“Too soon?”
He cupped my jaw, turning until his torso was hovering over me. “Baby,” he said, pressing his lips to mine and sliding his tongue inside. I reached up his shirt, pressing my fingers into the muscles in his back.
“Like October? November?” he said against my lips.
I nodded.
He touched his forehead to mine, already emotional from the day. “Are you f*cking with me?”
“I don’t need anything fancy, do you?” He shook his head. “Pick a Saturday.”
He scrambled for his phone, opening his calendar. “November seventh. That way we’re sure fire season is over, and maybe some of the guys will still be around.”
“Sounds great.”
“November seventh,” he repeated.
“Perfect.”
“Last chance to change your mind. I’m texting Dad,” he said, waiting for me to call his bluff.
I waited, amused.
He held his phone to his chest, closing his eyes. “If you’re bullshitting me, it’s going to break my f*cking heart.”
“Tyler Maddox!” I grabbed his phone, typed out the message, and sent it, turning the phone to show him. “It’s sent. It’s a done deal. I’m your wife on November seventh.”
He touched my cheek with his hand, running his thumb along my jawline. “You sure you’re ready?”
“What is there to be afraid of? You’ve already seen my ugly side and loved me through it.”
“What if the situation was reversed?”
I bit my lip, staring at his. He was honest, he was strong, he was beautiful, and he was mine. “You’re not the only one who would walk through fire for what you love.”
He scanned my face, breathed out a laugh, and shook his head, pressing his lips against mine.
THE END.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Writing about something I know nothing about is always a fun challenge for me, most of all finding an expert who is willing to talk to the “author who is writing a fictional book on the subject.” I happened to know the expert in this case, but had no idea he was an interagency hotshot crewmember until I complained to my husband one day about how much trouble I was having finding someone to talk to about wildfire fighting. Cowboy asked me why I didn’t just message Tyler Vanover. With much excitement (and a smidgeon of doubt), I sent Tyler a message asking if he had, in fact, been a hotshot. Tyler confirmed he had—although he was shocked I knew, apparently not many people do—and shortly after I had eight full pages, front and back of notes.
Tyler, before I can thank you for the hours of stories, tips, and information you shared with me, I have to thank you for your service as a wildland firefighter. After all the research I’ve done on this subject, I am in awe of anyone who would do this job willingly, much less with enthusiasm fire season after fire season. The arduous physical labor, the long hours, and the minimal sleep hotshots endure earn them the title of elite firefighters. The danger level alone is enough to make me fear for everyone who puts themselves between the flames and someone’s home, or farm, or even an entire town. Thank you, Tyler, for helping me with the details of this story, but it is an honor to know a true hero.
Megan Davis began as a reader I met several years ago at the first Book Bash in Orlando, Florida. We took a picture together, and to this day, it’s one of my favorites. I remember chatting with her after that photo was taken, and she was so cool in conversation I’d thought that maybe she’d just taken a picture with me because she saw others doing it. Today, Megan is my right hand (wo)man. She is responsible for the chapter containing Ellie’s first week with the hotshots. I was going to skip over that part but Megan wanted more. It was because I wrote that chapter that Beautiful Burn took a new direction, one that I truly loved, and all because I filled a gap I didn’t know was empty. Thanks for all you do for me, Megan, but most of all, thanks for asking for more.