Eight years later

James stopped when a bright flash of hot pink caught his attention. Hot pink in the middle of this secluded part of the forest was weird enough, but what concerned James was the fact hot pink had strayed from the trail. Not a smart thing to do in Yellowstone, and definitely not in this less-traveled section of the park.

He waited a second to see if the woman he’d only gotten a glimpse of returned. She didn’t.

James sighed then left the trail, picking his way through the underbrush. He’d walked about ten minutes before he heard a voice—just one voice—speaking.

Peering around a lodgepole pine, he found his pretty quarry standing about thirty yards away talking to a fir tree.

For six years, he’d been making this trek, an annual tradition he started the first year he’d served as a smokejumper on the West Yellowstone Squad. He’d felt equal parts excited and overwhelmed that very first day, so at the suggestion of his supervisor, Roscoe Wagner, he had taken a hike. Roscoe thought it would do him good to see what it was he was fighting to protect, to save.

He’d studied a map, seeking a quieter trail, and he’d found this one. He had also chosen it because it had been the scene of a particularly nasty fire a few years earlier, so he had been able to see up close the damage fire wrought on a beautiful forest.

It had been a decade since that fire, and while ten years could heal a lot, it would never be able to conceal everything. The woman was standing beside one of the more damaged trees. Douglas firs were strong, hearty trees, but this one had taken a hit, the wood still charred and scarred from its brush with fire.

For six years, this hike hadn’t failed to do exactly what Roscoe had hoped it would that first day. It centered James, calmed him down, gave him a real sense of purpose. Today, however, it was giving him a few regrets.

A woman alone in the woods, off the trail, talking to a tree, could not be a good thing. He checked his cell phone, immediately feeling foolish for the pointless effort. One glance confirmed what he already knew. No service.

James contemplated his next move. He didn’t want to scare her if she was sane. Hell, he didn’t want to spook a crazy woman either. And that was definitely what he was leaning toward when the woman pulled out a pint bottle of Jack Daniel’s, drank one quick swig, and then started to water the tree with the rest.

He took the opening, stepping out from behind the tree and walking a bit closer. “Seems like a waste of good whiskey. If you don’t like it, I’ll drink it.”

The woman jumped at the sound of his voice, some of the bourbon splashing onto her jeans. “Shit,” she muttered, slapping at the drops, trying to lessen some of the damage before glancing back up at him. James’s heart stuttered for a single beat when the biggest, brightest, iciest blue eyes met his. He prayed to God she wasn’t insane, because he was afraid he’d already fallen a little bit in love—okay, lust—with her.

“Are you a murderer?” she asked.

He grinned and shook his head, thinking that was the kind of question a sane woman would ask.

“Rapist?”

He scowled. “Of course not.”

“Don’t act offended. You just snuck up on me in the woods.” She pointed behind him. “The trail is back that way if you’re lost.”

“I’m not lost. I caught sight of your hot-pink top and was afraid you were the lost one.”

She snorted—an actual snort, which was pretty adorable coming from her. She was a tiny thing, probably not more than five-five, five-six, and James figured he could pick her up with one arm. Despite that, there was something in her demeanor and her voice that made her seem larger. “I’d never get lost in this forest.”

“You a local?”

She nodded. “Born and raised in West Yellowstone.”

“Is it common practice for the natives to water the trees with whiskey?”

James regretted reminding her about the half-empty bottle of booze the second he pointed it out.

Her shoulders sank a bit before she snapped, “That’s private. None of your business.”

James nodded. “Okay.” His mama didn’t raise no fool. He knew when to press and when to back down. Considering he didn’t know this woman from Adam, he agreed. Her deal with the whiskey really wasn’t any of his business, even though something about the way she was white-knuckling the bottle told him it was meaningful to her.

“I’m James, by the way.”

“Ivy,” she said.

He smiled. The name seemed to fit her, pretty, wild, untamed. He opened his mouth to say just that, but she lifted her hand.

“And before you make some lame joke about poison ivy, just know that I’ve heard them all.”

James took a couple steps closer, the distance between them less than ten feet now. He didn’t want to have to keep talking to her with raised voices. The forest had always felt a bit like a sanctuary to him, a place for quiet reflection. “I wasn’t thinking about poison.”

“Yeah, well, stick around a while and get to know me. Pretty sure that opinion will change.”

He chuckled. “Are you saying you’re a pain in the ass?”

“Some might say that. I like to think I’m just honest.”

Ivy didn’t smile, didn’t loosen up, even a little. He didn’t blame her for being on guard. They were strangers, and they were definitely alone in the woods. She wasn’t within shouting distance of anyone, and if she was as familiar with this part of the forest as she said, she knew there wasn’t any cell service.

“You don’t have to come any closer, by the way.” She lifted her hand, revealing the small canister of pepper spray.

“Good for you.” If he’d stumbled upon his sister or one of his female cousins out here by herself, he would have read her the riot act for doing something so dangerous.

She tilted her head, her eyes narrowed. “Because I need it?”

He shook his head. “No. Because I feel better knowing you didn’t just walk out here alone with no protection.”

“This isn’t my first solo hike. I really am fine. I appreciate you checking on me, but I assure you, I have everything under control.”

James knew a dismissal when he heard one. He nodded his head in reluctant acceptance. “It was nice to meet you.”

He turned and made his way back to the trail. Once there, he hadn’t gone more than fifty yards when he stopped. And sighed. Shit. He didn’t care if she’d been alone in the forest a million times. His mama would string him up by his toenails if he left without making sure she got back to the trailhead safely.

He leaned against a tree, deciding to wait.

He’d arrived in Yellowstone a couple days earlier, ready to begin his refresher training. This marked his sixth year as a smokejumper with the West Yellowstone Squad. Jake hadn’t just pulled him out of a dive the night of that bar brawl, he’d pulled James’s head out of his own ass as well. With a purpose and a goal, James had started working out, started ticking off boxes to build his resume in order to qualify for the squad.

Smokejumping was not for the light of heart. It required strength and experience. One he’d gained on the ranch, the other at the Compton Pass Fire Station. His mother had been less than pleased with his chosen career path. Actually, her initial response had been something along the lines of, “You will jump out of a plane into fire over my dead body.” However, Dad hadn’t said anything at all. Instead, he’d nodded and given James an approving smile that had soaked into him like warm sunshine after a heavy snow.

Since then, he’d felt like a man living two very different lives. Half the year, he spent here, as Jamie Compton, jumping out of planes and into fires, fighting to protect this incredible wilderness. The other half, he returned to life as James, Seth’s boy, working with his dad, uncles, and cousins to protect the horses, their ranch, and their legacy. He wasn’t sure how to explain it, but putting those two unique halves together made him feel like a whole man, and home had begun to mean more than it had when he’d been a stupid nineteen-year-old with more pride than brains.

He hadn’t waited more than half an hour when the hot pink flashed in his peripheral view. Ivy was moving at a pretty good clip, her journey to the woods clearly more about watering the tree than enjoying a leisurely hike. She slowed when she spotted him, cautiously remaining about ten feet away.

James raised his hands in the sign of surrender, especially when he noticed her red-rimmed eyes. She’d been crying. “Still not a murderer. Still not a rapist,” he said lightly, hoping to make her smile. He failed.

She lifted her hand, revealing the pepper spray. “The fact you’re lying in wait here doesn’t reassure me of that.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I’m sure it doesn’t. Thing is, I was raised to be a gentleman. To make sure women were protected. And while I appreciate that you’ve taken precautions,” he gestured to her pepper spray, “I sure would rest easier tonight, knowing you made it back to your car okay.”

The woods had never seemed so still and quiet as they did while he watched her try to make up her mind. He didn’t realize how much he wanted to keep talking to her until he was forced to wait.

“You can frisk me if you want. I don’t have any weapons except an old pocket knife.”

She rolled her eyes in an exasperated way that told him he was starting to win. “I’m not coming any closer to you. And something tells me you’d probably enjoy being frisked.”

He agreed that was smart on her part, even as he chuckled. “Hadn’t considered that, but yeah. You’re probably right. I’ve never complained about a woman running her hands over me.”

“You’re not helping your case.”

James winced. “Guess I’m not. Problem is, when I see a pretty girl, it’s hard to turn off the flirting.”

“Try a little harder.”

Her tone was brusque, rough—and damn him, for some reason, James found it sexy.

He ran a finger over his heart, crossing it. “I promise to avoid any and all sexual innuendos if you’ll just let me see you back to your car.”

“Fine,” she relented finally. “You start walking. I’ll follow you. It’s not like you’re giving me much choice. There’s only one way out of here and it’s that direction.” She pointed down the trail behind him.

Damn. He really hadn’t given her any other recourse. “Sorry. My mama’s a force to be reckoned with. If she ever caught wind that I’d left a woman in the woods alone…”

“Considering it’s just you and me out here, and I don’t know your mama, I’d say you’re safe.”

“You would think that, but I swear that woman has some sort of sixth sense. She always knew when I was lying growing up. Knew where to find me when I ran away when I was seven, knew where I’d stashed my stack of ancient, stolen Playboys in middle school, and she can find the checkered porn history on my computer even though she can’t manage to attach a picture to an email.”

Ivy’s lips twitched, making him long even more to provoke a smile. “You’re really not offering me any reassurance if you’re hoping to prove to me you’re not a perv.”

“Excellent point.”

“Just start walking. And keep your hands where I can see them.”

James chuckled, but did as she said. Ivy’s pricks didn’t sting. They entertained him. She actually reminded him a lot of his mother. Jody Compton never hesitated to tell a person what she thought, never minced words, never felt the need to play nice if someone was pissing her off.

They’d only walked a short distance when he decided it was silly to pretend like they weren’t both there.

“What do you do for a living, Ivy?”

He glanced at her over his shoulder, saw her reticence in responding.

“I’m just curious. I don’t have any plans to continue stalking you once this hike is over.”

She sighed. “I’m a vet. Work at the pet clinic in West Yellowstone.”

“Is that right? Take care of kittens and puppies?” He hadn’t meant that as an insult, but the way she crinkled her nose proved she’d taken it as such.

“I’m not saying that’s a bad thing at all,” he hastened to explain. James was a huge fan of both types of pets. Probably because they had a couple big dogs at the ranch and at least half a dozen barn cats at any given time.

Ivy shrugged. “I know. It’s just not where I plan to end up. This is a short-term gig. I specialized in school. My field of study was large-animal care.”

James stopped walking, and Ivy was almost next to him before she realized. She pulled up short. “You mean like horses and cattle?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I love horses.”

A big smile split his face. “So do I. My family owns a ranch in Compton Pass, Wyoming.”

Her face brightened. “I know where that is. Saw the exit for it after every holiday when I drove back to college.”

“Oh yeah. Must mean you went to Colorado State. We’re on the way.”

“Yeah. Always wanted to stop in Compton Pass. Seems like a really nice place.”

It had taken James six years away and a part-time life there to make him appreciate certain aspects of the place. The disdain he’d felt for it when he’d been a teenager faded a bit more with each passing year.

Even so, he wasn’t ready to return to that life full-time. The months spent in Yellowstone were his favorite part of the year. This was his place and his alone—something he didn’t share with his family. Yellowstone had helped him chisel out a bit of his own identity, as opposed to simply being another one of the Compass Boys.

People from home no longer looked at him as the bad boy Compton. They now viewed him as a smokejumper, stopping to talk to him about how fascinating the work must be and wanting the details of fires he’d fought, instead of asking after his family.

“You’d love Compass Ranch. My family has owned it for generations. My dad and uncles run the place now.”

“Your family owns Compass Ranch?” Ivy had forgotten to be afraid of him and they were now walking side by side.

“You’ve heard of it?” It wasn’t a small ranch, but he’d never met anyone outside a hundred-mile radius who actually recognized the name.

“They breed the most amazing horses there. I shadowed a vet in Fort Collins for one of my classes, and several of the surrounding ranches had horses from Compass Ranch. They were beautiful creatures.”

“Those are my dad’s horses. He breeds them.”

“Shut up! Really?”

For the next few minutes, the two of them discussed horses. Ivy hadn’t lied about her love of the creatures. She was as knowledgeable about them as he was, which was saying something, considering James had been practically raised on horseback. He opened his phone and showed her a picture of his current horse, Wildfire, and an older shot of his first and most beloved quarter horse, Spitfire.

“Sensing a theme with your names,” she joked. “You really help your dad train the horses?”

He nodded, the irony of the situation not lost on him. Back home in Compton Pass, he wowed the women with his smokejumping stories. Now, here he was in the middle of Yellowstone, trying to impress a girl with his ranching background.

“If you’re ever on the highway passing Compton Pass again, you should pull off and come visit. My dad loves to talk about his horses. We’ll give you a tour.”

Ivy smiled, a genuine one without a trace of fear. James felt that same rumble of attraction. The woman was seriously beautiful.

“I’d like that, James,” she said.

He glanced down at his phone once more. “Hey, just realized. We got cell service back.”

She nodded. “Came back a few minutes ago.”

For the first time, he realized she had her phone in the hand not carrying the pepper spray, finger probably poised over the emergency button. She’d never stopped being on guard. He was glad to know that, but regardless of what she considered protection, James felt uneasy with the idea she was out here on her own.

“You take these walks alone a lot?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Not as much as I’d like. I’ve been away at school. Stayed in Fort Collins during the summers because I had a job there waiting tables. This is the first time I’ve been home, apart for a couple weeks each Christmas since I turned eighteen and graduated from high school. Now that I’m back…” She looked around the woods.

James studied her face, wishing he could sneak a peek inside her head. He was very curious about the bottle of whiskey.

“Guess I couldn’t convince you to start hiking with a friend or two. Really not that smart to traipse around the woods by yourself.”

“Only threat I’ve encountered today is you. There’s usually no one else out here. I really don’t come out here that often. Today, I just…”

Her voice drifted away, her eyes sad once more, and he knew she wasn’t going to finish her statement. He changed the subject. “You named after anyone special? Ivy’s a pretty unusual name.”

She shook her head, whatever dark thoughts clogging her brain, vanishing. “Nope. I’d like to say there was some cool story behind it, but truth is, my mom bought a baby book and found the name Ivy. She liked it and that was it. How about you? Any significance to your name?”

“Oh yeah. I’m named after my two grandfathers. My parents stuck them together and dubbed me James Thomas.”

“I like family names.”

“Yeah. Both my grandfathers were seriously tough dudes, so I figure it’s a cool name.”

“Were? Not alive anymore?”

“One is. My granddaddy James—JD—died before I was born, but Granddad Thomas is still alive and well at eighty-four, kicking ass on his own ranch in Texas.”

“Another ranch? Man, you’re one hundred percent cowboy, aren’t you?”

“No escaping it, Doc. Believe me. I’ve tried.”

He hadn’t meant to put so much emphasis on the last part. It caught her attention, piqued it, and it looked like she might question him about that, but the trees cleared out and James was surprised to discover they were already back at the road. There were two vehicles parked there, his motorcycle and what must be her truck. He’d noticed it when he parked his bike, but hadn’t given it more than a passing thought at the time, thinking it strange to find anyone else on this trail, but not bothered by it.

“Well, here we are. Safe and sound.”

“I’m still not in my truck with the doors locked yet, so I’ll hold off on the relief.” Her easy smile told him she was only a little bit serious about that.

“Good plan. It was nice to meet you, Ivy.”

“You too, James.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask for her number, God knew he wanted to see her again, but he held off. For one thing, he was pretty damn sure she wouldn’t give it to him, and he had too much pride to set himself up for rejection. And for another, he knew where she worked. There were a couple of stray cats hanging out around the base. He’d just catch one and take it to Dr. Ivy for a checkup.

She waved, then walked back to her truck. He watched as she fired up the ancient piece of shit and pulled away. Then he climbed on his bike and started down the road, the same direction as Ivy. He followed her for a bit, imagining her checking him out through her rearview mirror. He started to lift his hand to wave goodbye as his turn came into view, but she flashed her blinker.

James tried to figure out why she’d take this road. There wasn’t anything to see besides the base. He’d intended to head straight back to his barracks, but drove into the parking lot to the main building behind Ivy, curious about her business there.

She scowled when he parked next to her and climbed off his motorcycle. Ivy climbed out of the truck. “Why are you following me?” Her friendly tone from the trail had vanished.

“I’m not. This is where I live.”

Her anger vanished, replaced by something that looked a little worse to him—utter blankness.

“You’re a smokejumper.” Her tone held a fair amount of contempt, and for some reason, James got the impression she would have preferred to discover he really was a murderer or a rapist.

Before he could question her response, they were interrupted by another voice.

“Hey, Scout,” Roscoe called out, walking toward them. “I was starting to worry.”

Suddenly, James knew exactly who Ivy was. “You’re Scout?”

She nodded.

His boss, Roscoe, had one daughter he lovingly referred to as Scout. The sun rose and set on Scout’s shoulders, in her father’s eyes. A few of the other guys had met Scout and had mentioned she was a beauty, but his path had never crossed hers before. Probably because Ivy admitted to only being home for Christmas. He was knee-deep in Compton family traditions during the holidays, not returning to Yellowstone until March each year.

Roscoe always shut down the “she’s hot” comments from the other guys with a harsh “Scout doesn’t date smokejumpers.”

It didn’t even occur to James until that moment that he hadn’t known Scout’s real name.

Roscoe reached them, his gaze traveling from Ivy to James. “Hey, Jamie.”

“You’re Jamie?”

It was his turn to nod. It was apparent Ivy had heard his name before, which wasn’t surprising. He and Roscoe had worked together for six years. Roscoe tended to treat his jumpers with the same fatherly love and sternness James received at home from his real dad. Stood to reason he’d talk to his daughter about them.

“You introduced yourself as James.”

He lifted one shoulder, wondering why he suddenly felt on the defensive. “At home, I’m James. Always takes me a week or two to get used to being Jamie again while I’m here.” The nickname had come his rookie year with the squad, because there had been another James on the squad who had seniority. Roscoe had dubbed him Jamie for simplicity purposes and it stuck, even after the other James moved on to another squad.

Ivy looked at her dad. “Jamie’s last name is Compton?”

Roscoe gave her a confused nod. “Yeah. Why? Does that matter?”

She shook her head. “I just didn’t know he lived at Compass Ranch.”

Her father looked from Ivy to him and back. “I didn’t realize that was something you would want to know.” Roscoe’s bewilderment grew. “You two know each other?”

“No. Just met a little while ago. Ran into each other out on the trail,” James explained, not adding the fact that Ivy had strayed from the path. Knowing Roscoe’s overprotective nature, he wouldn’t like hearing that information. Even though, he probably should.

“I see.” Roscoe was eyeballing him, no doubt trying to figure out if there was something going on he should be concerned about.

James’s attention was diverted when one of the strays he’d intended to woo Ivy with rubbed against his legs, and then hers.

“There’s my little Jezebel,” Ivy said, bending down to scoop up the cat. So much for that plan. Obviously, Ivy was already taking care of the base pets.

The cat purred in her arms as Ivy rubbed her belly.

“You need anything, Jamie?” Roscoe was clearly trying to get rid of him.

James shook his head. “Nope. Just wanted to make sure Ivy was okay.”

Roscoe’s eyes narrowed slightly when James used her real name. “Scout’s fine.”

James turned to her, reluctant to leave. Any progress he’d made convincing her he was a decent guy on the trail seemed to have vanished. For some reason, he was back to square one—and he didn’t like it. Mainly because he liked her. “It was nice meeting you, Ivy. Hopefully our paths will cross again soon. We can talk horses some more.” He tried to dial back his flirting a little, not wanting to incur Roscoe’s wrath, but hoping to let Ivy know he’d like to see her again.

“Horses?” Roscoe asked, but Ivy cut him off.

“I suspect you’ll be too busy with training and your other tasks around here for that. It was nice to meet you too.” As far as dismissals went, that one stung.

For a second.

James watched her turn and walk into the building, her ass perfectly accented by a tight pair of jeans and her long hair swinging in a way that had his fingers itching for a touch. It was the color of dark chocolate, and he wondered if it would smell as sweet.

Roscoe didn’t speak again until she was out of earshot. “Seriously, Jamie? You’re ogling my daughter’s ass right in front of me.”

James gave his boss a sheepish grin. “I prefer ‘appreciating’ over ‘ogling.’”

“I don’t give a shit what you call it. You keep your eyes closed whenever she’s around. She’s not for you.”

James hadn’t considered that Ivy might be dating someone. “She got a boyfriend?”

Roscoe rolled his eyes, and James suddenly realized where Ivy had picked up that gesture. “You don’t have two brain cells in your head, do you? No, she doesn’t have a boyfriend, but she’s still not going to go out with you.”

James could and couldn’t understand Roscoe’s reticence. For one thing, he’d always thought the two of them had held each other in mutual respect. More than a few times, Roscoe had affectionately called him “son.”

But that probably didn’t change the fact that James had acquired a bit of a reputation on the base as a player. And while that rep was only about half earned, half legend, James didn’t exactly go out of his way to correct the wrong stuff.

“Roscoe, come on, man. You know me.”

“That’s right. I do.”

“Listen, I know you’ve probably heard some rumors—”

“Julie Rodriquez was a rumor?”

James shook his head, wishing him being caught naked and soapy in the barrack showers with the pretty base receptionist his first year on the squad had been just a story. “No, but—”

“And Becky Miller?”

James sighed. “Beck and I were just friends.” He didn’t dare add the “with benefits” part to that statement. Roscoe knew the truth. Becky had been the base dispatcher the previous two summers. Neither of them had been looking for anything serious with each other, but that didn’t mean the sex hadn’t been damn good.

“And Allison Carnes?”

James shrugged and realized he wasn’t going to win this battle. Time to divert. “I just think it might be nice to go out on a date with Ivy. Take her out to dinner, maybe a movie. That’s all. She’s your daughter, Roscoe, and I respect you—and her—too much to ever play games like that. I do know how to be a gentleman.”

Roscoe’s face softened, but only slightly. “Maybe so, but it’s not me who would hold her back. She’s a grown woman and she makes her own decisions. And she’s already made this one. She doesn’t date smokejumpers. Never has. Never will.”

James couldn’t make sense of that. After all, in his younger years, Roscoe was a smokejumper.

“Why not?”

Like his daughter, when Roscoe got his back up, conversation was over. “She just doesn’t. So do yourself a favor and forget about her.”

With that, Roscoe turned around and walked the same direction his daughter had just gone.

James considered taking Roscoe’s advice for about a second and a half.

Then he grinned.

Ivy and Roscoe had just done the worst possible thing.

Told a Compass Boy something was impossible.