Ivy finished giving the small kitten her injection before putting her back into her carrier with a heavy sigh. It had been three days since her run-in with James “Jamie” Compton on the trail, and she hadn’t been able to concentrate on a damn thing since.

He’d snuck up on her in the woods and scared the bejeezus out of her. She had made no fewer than a dozen treks to that same tree in the last decade and had never run into another soul. Her dad lost his shit every single time she said she was going back to the tree, but his words of warning always fell on deaf ears, and he ultimately relented. Because he understood her reasons for going, he reluctantly stood aside and let her do her thing.

So, when James had stepped out from behind that tree, she’d silently cursed herself for not listening to her dad, and she’d spent more than a few uneasy minutes trying to covertly tug the pepper spray Dad had armed her with out of her back pocket, while keeping James in sight.

It hadn’t taken long for her to get a sense that he wasn’t a danger to her. James had a slow, easy country-boy charm, and she believed him when he said he was a gentleman. He’d kept his distance while engaging her in friendly conversation, all the time sticking around to protect her. She might be a modern-day, independent woman, but she wasn’t made of ice. His chivalry had pushed more than a few of the right buttons, and by the time they’d reached the parking lot, she was sort of hoping he’d ask for her number.

The guy was seriously hot. Like sex-on-a-stick hot. Jet-black hair. Soul-piercing dark brown eyes. Close-cropped beard. Muscles that filled out a T-shirt just right. She’d almost had an orgasm just watching him straddle his motorcycle in those low-hanging jeans.

“Fuck,” she muttered. “He’s a smokejumper.”

Every time her libido started to get the better of her, she repeated those words, hoping that reminder would help her get a grip on her horniness. When James had taken the turn toward base camp, her initial attraction had been muted by the fear he really was some sort of creepy stalker. She’d called her dad to tell him she was almost there, knowing he would start looking out the window for her arrival. With that safety measure in place, she’d pulled into the parking lot, ready to blast James.

God.

Jamie.

How many times had her dad talked about Jamie in the past? Probably a million.

Jamie had a hell of a jump today. Hit the target dead-on.

I swear that fire would have taken twice as long to put out if we hadn’t had Jamie out there. The guy is a bulldozer.

Jamie dragged Trevor out of the woods today. Guy would have died of smoke inhalation if Jamie hadn’t gotten him to the transport.

And so on and so on.

Ivy had heard so many stories about the amazing Jamie, she’d almost expected the guy to walk around in a Superman cape.

Foolishly, she let herself imagine him in one of those tight Superman getups, her mind’s eye drifting over his chiseled six-pack abs and rock-hard thighs…and the little extra she fantasized he was packing just below the waist.

“Bah,” she breathed out, disgusted with herself. It figured the first guy she’d feel this seriously turned on by in years would be a smokejumper. The universe hated her.

The bell over the door at the entrance rang. She glanced at her watch. The receptionist was still on lunch break, and they didn’t have any appointments scheduled for another hour.

So…an emergency.

She opened the door that separated the waiting area from the exam room, but stopped dead in her tracks in the doorframe.

James Compton stood by the front desk. He smiled at her. She fought hard not to offer him the same. Something told her if she gave the man an inch, he’d take a mile…or better yet, her. Ivy forced a scowl that was completely lost on him.

“Heya, Doc.”

“You lost, Cowboy?”

He shook his head, looking far too charming for her own good.

“Forget your pet?”

His grin grew. “Nope. I was going to try to catch one of the strays on the base as an excuse to come see you, but I realized you’ve probably already looked after them.”

“I have.”

James didn’t look deterred.

“So,” she said after a moment. “Did you need something?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Just rode into town to pick up some supplies. Thought I’d stop by to see if you wanted to grab some lunch.”

“No,” she said quickly lust beat common sense to the punch and had her accepting the invitation.

“Did you already eat?”

She hadn’t, but admitting that wouldn’t help her cause. “Um, yeah. I have.”

He tilted his head, studying her in a way that made her way too hot and flustered. She started considering what piece of clothing she could shed right now and still remain decent. To make matters worse, his question reminded her that she’d actually forgotten to eat, and her stomach growled. Loudly.

“You want to change your answer to the truth, or should I start the liar liar pants on fire chant now?”

She blew out an exasperated breath. “I lied because I was trying to spare your feelings.”

“My feelings?”

“When I reject your invitation.”

He moved a few steps closer, and Ivy had to resist the urge to take the same number back. James Compton was a big guy, but not in a way that scared her. After all, there was nothing frightening about the idea of some strapping hunk of delicious man picking her up and carrying her to the first flat surface he could find. She glanced over her shoulder and spotted the exam table.

Breathe, Ivy.

“If you’re really worried about my feelings, you could just accept my offer. My treat.”

While she had been distracted by her dirty fantasies, James had gotten close to her. Seriously close. The last time they were together, he’d kept his distance so as not to spook her. That invisible barrier had apparently vanished.

“I’m not going out with you, Jamie.”

He lifted his hand to brush a stray strand of hair from her eyes. The gesture was too familiar for their short acquaintance. Unfortunately, it was also sexy as hell, so she forgot to yell at him.

“Why not? And don’t give me that ‘I don’t date smokejumpers’ excuse unless you intend to tell me why.”

His words struck hard and deep—and piqued her temper. “It’s not an excuse. It’s a way of life, and I don’t owe you any damn explanations. If I don’t want to date you, I won’t.”

“Mmm-hmm.” His patience in the face of her hostility rankled further. The guy seemed unshakable. Which, of course, made her want to shake the shit out of him. “What’s your criteria for going out with a guy?”

“What?”

“You’ve told me why you won’t go out with me. I’m wondering what kinds of guys you are interested in. Doctors? Like you? You prefer college degrees and white collars?”

“No. Of course not. I don’t care what a man does for a living.” The words fell out before she could stop them. Because she’d just made it very clear she did care what he did.

James’s brows lifted slightly, but he took pity on her and let the slip slide on by. “Okay then. Looks? You prefer clean-cut over scruffy beards?”

His beard was far from scruffy, and in truth, she wouldn’t mind getting a few scratches from it on some of the more sensitive parts of her body. “I…”

He chuckled. “You’re blushing.”

“No, I’m not,” she snapped, lying in spite of the fact her face felt like it was on fire.

“I’m not complaining. You look really pretty with all that pink in your cheeks. Obviously, beards aren’t a problem.”

She hadn’t said that with words, but James was turning out to be pretty astute at reading her body language. Which meant he had her number already.

“So what could you be looking for? Want to give me a hint?”

Ivy opened her mouth to speak, but every single thing she wanted to say described him. A gentleman, someone who loved horses and the land, who cared about his family, to whom she was attracted.

Jesus. He owned all that and more.

Finally, she just spat out, “Sense of humor,” because it was the only thing she could think of and it seemed safe.

James laughed.

Fuck. He had a really great laugh. Deep and rich. Plus, it showcased his perfect white teeth. Where the hell were his flaws? There had to be something.

Oh, yeah…smokejumping.

“If you give me a chance, I suspect I could break through that prickly exterior of yours and make you laugh, darlin’.”

Oh hell no. No, no, no.

Anything but “darlin’” with that country drawl of his. Her nipples tightened, her stomach—and pussy—clenched, and Ivy suddenly found it hard to catch a deep breath.

She latched onto the only thing she could remember apart from that sexy nickname. “I’m not prickly.”

“Pretty sure you’re not…with anyone other than me. Your dad has told me plenty of stories about you. You were top in your class in high school and college—got a good scholarship, so obviously you’re smart. He said you waited tables all through college and vet school to help pay your way, so you’re a hard worker, you’re driven. Said you were the girl who put your high school up for sale on Craigslist for twenty bucks as a senior prank, so I’d say you’ve got a pretty good sense of humor yourself. For the record, my prank wasn’t as clever. Just climbed up on the roof of the school and stole the letter P off the sign. For a few days, it was called Compton Ass High School. At least until Uncle Silas found the P hidden behind some haystacks in the barn and made me take it back.”

She giggled, before the sound morphed to a groan. Unfortunately, the giggle was all the encouragement he needed.

“See? I’ve got a great sense of humor. Come to lunch with me.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

She started to repeat her smokejumper rule, but changed her mind, going for something a bit stronger. “Because I’m not attracted to you. Not at all. Not even a little bit.”

Ivy probably could have sold her lie a bit better if she’d managed to look him in the eye as she said it, instead of making the inane proclamation to his left shoulder.

James tipped her face up toward his with a finger under her chin. Sweet Jesus. Every single platonic touch from the man struck her with the force of a lightning bolt.

“Still lying,” he murmured, not bothering to make his words a question. His eyes dropped down to her lips and she licked them instinctively, foolishly hoping and maybe inviting him to kiss her.

“I’m going to kiss you, Ivy,” he said, his face closer to hers now, his breath hot on her face.

“Okay,” she whispered. Common sense had hopped a flight to China. Horniness ruled the day.

“Right after lunch.”

She frowned as he backed away. She was still struggling to recapture her wits when he grasped her hand and led her toward the door.

Ivy was halfway across the street to the diner before her brain kicked her hormones back to the curb, but by then, it was too late to continue the fight.

James held the door to the diner open for her.

“Just lunch,” she said sternly. “And no kiss afterwards.”

He placed his hand on the small of her back as he guided her to a booth by the front window that afforded them a view of the street. It also ensured every person who walked by would see Ivy Wagner out on a date with James Compton, a smokejumper.

And because this entire town would fit on a postage stamp, her dad would no doubt know she’d been out to lunch with James before she got back to the office in an hour.

Not that she expected her dad to mind. Much. He really was quite fond of James, and while he accepted and understood her adamancy about knocking smokejumpers off her list of potential love interests, she also suspected it hurt his feelings a little because that was what he did, who he was, at heart.

Once they were settled and Sally had taken their drink orders, James leaned back in his seat. “Tell me about yourself.”

Ivy relaxed, deciding she could lower her guard a little. She was hungry and out with a hot guy. She’d worry about the heavier stuff later. “I find it hard to believe my father hasn’t told you everything there is to know about me.”

“I’ll be honest, I thought he had too. Until I realized I didn’t know your real name was Ivy. Where does Scout come from?”

“Oh, if my dad had had his way, Scout would have been my name on the birth certificate. To Kill a Mockingbird is his favorite book of all time, and he thought that would be the world’s greatest name. My mom disagreed.” Besides, her mother had already relented to that request once, naming Ivy’s brother Jem.

James winced a little. “That was required reading in high school. Don’t tell Roscoe I watched the movie instead of reading the book. Managed to get enough from it to score a C on the final exam.”

“Sounds like you were a strong student.”

He laughed at her sarcasm, something else to add to her growing attraction. There was nothing sexier than a man who didn’t take himself too seriously, who could laugh at himself.

He used the opportunity to flex his arm muscle at her. “Depends on what you consider strong.”

“You can put the guns away. I didn’t buy tickets to the show for a reason.”

They laughed together. Sally returned with their drinks, then took their lunch order.

“Sounds like you come from a big family,” she said, interested in learning more about him.

He nodded. “Too big.”

Ivy struggled to decide if he was sincere in his assessment or not. He’d made a similar comment yesterday, about trying to escape his home, but she hadn’t felt comfortable questioning him about it. “Brothers and sisters?”

“Both. Big sis. Little bro. Love both of them to pieces, but there are times I wish I was an only child like you.”

Ivy froze, uncertain how to respond.

Only child?

Either his comment was heartless or, more likely, Dad had never mentioned Jem.

She hadn’t realized until just recently that Dad’s way of dealing with Jem’s death was by erasing all reminders of him. That fact became apparent when they were decorating the Christmas tree this past December. For years, they’d eschewed the idea of a tree altogether, both claiming it was too much work, when the truth was, the holiday felt very empty with their numbers cut in half.

This year, Ivy had intended to turn a corner, to bring Christmas back into their lives. She’d dragged out the box of homemade ornaments from a big closet in her dad’s office, only to discover none of the ones Jem had made in school over the years were there. When she’d asked her dad, he said he’d taken those ornaments and put them with the rest of her brother’s stuff. After further questioning, she learned Dad had boxed up and moved every single thing Jem had ever worn, made or even touched to a storage unit he was renting across town. He’d claimed to have done it due to a lack of space, but she knew better.

Ivy didn’t reply to James’s only child comment. Mercifully, she didn’t have to when James continued talking about his sister, Sienna, who was pregnant with baby number three, and his kid brother, Doug, who worked as a cameraman for a storm chaser show on TV.

“Sienna has two boys and says she doesn’t care what this one is, but I get the feeling her husband, Daniel, is dying for a little girl to spoil. Not going to lie, Uncle James is too.”

She smiled, pushing the darker thoughts about Jem and her dad aside. She didn’t bother to correct him about her being an only child. The truth was…that’s exactly what she was now. What she would always be.

She was just as fucked-up as Dad when it came to dealing with Jem’s death. Her pilgrimage to the woods—to that fucking tree—proved that.

“I bet you’re a rotten influence on those nephews.”

“The worst,” he said with a laugh. “And I’m going to tell my sister you said that. Sienna got me a shirt for Christmas that said ‘They call me uncle because partner in crime makes me sound like a bad influence’.”

“No way. That’s hilarious.”

“It’s actually not too bad yet. They’re only seven and five. When they hit drinking age, it’s game on.”

“Hope you warned your sister about that.”

They continued to talk throughout the meal. There was never a lapse or moment of silence. The words flowed fast and freely until Ivy had to go back to work.

Her receptionist’s brows rose when she walked back into the clinic with James.

“Your one o’clock appointment called. Running late,” Gwen said.

“Thanks.” Ivy walked toward the back, half hoping, half dreading that James would follow her.

When she opened the door to her office, she wasn’t surprised to feel his hand on her back again. He stepped through behind her, shutting the door.

She turned around, mouth open, ready to tell him she wasn’t going to let him kiss her.

That thought lasted about half a second, before James had his hands on her waist, tugging her toward him. His head lowered and his lips were on hers in an instant. And because she was a fool, her hands were around his neck, kissing him back.

James was the first to pull away, but she could see it wasn’t without some regret. “I have to get back to base.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

“Go out with me tomorrow.”

James had a bad habit of demanding rather than asking. Unfortunately, she found his goddamn alpha tactics as sexy as every other freaking thing about him, so she didn’t call him on it.

“I’m not going out with you again, James.”

“Just friends.”

“That kiss was anything but friendly.”

“Just lunch then.”

“I’m being serious,” she said, but even as she spoke the words, she knew her absent willpower was going to ensure her hair looked nice and she was wearing makeup on the off chance he rejected her refusal and showed up here again. She wanted to be sure to look hot as fuck when she gave him the brush-off again. If she actually managed to give him the brush-off.

“So am I. You and I are going to be very good friends, Doc.” Then the scamp gave her another quick peck on the lips that was just as potent as his slow, lingering kiss, before turning and walking away.

Ivy followed him to the doorway of her office, taking a moment to enjoy the view as he left the clinic. When she turned to look at Gwen, she realized her receptionist was taking the same scenic tour.

“That man is…”

“Yeah,” Ivy said, in complete agreement.

“Are you two dating?”

Ivy shook her head.

Gwen’s forehead creased. “Why the hell not?”

Ivy shrugged and walked back into the office, shutting the door and leaning against it as Gwen’s question ricocheted in her brain.

Why the hell not?

Because he’s a smokejumper.

And she wasn’t about to lose anyone else she cared about to fire.

Jem was enough.