Ivy meandered around her dad’s office while she waited for him to get off the phone. She’d been surprised when Dad called her early this morning to ask if she would stop by before work. He’d never summoned her here before.

She stopped when she reached the wall opposite his desk. His office was quite large, so this side of the room was a fair distance from where he sat. There was even a long conference table set up between his desk and the far wall, for base meetings. There were seven pictures hanging on that wall. For years, Ivy had avoided this side of the office, averting her eyes rather than looking at the faces in the photos.

In the photographs were the West Yellowstone smokejumpers who’d perished in the line of duty over the past seven decades. Ivy wasn’t sure why she was looking at them this time. She assumed it was curiosity mingled with concern. Because she knew she was going to find exactly what she did.

“Thanks, Roger. I’ll check back with you later in the week.” Her father disconnected the call.

Ivy turned to face him. “Where’s Jem’s picture?”

Her dad didn’t reply. He looked like a deer caught in headlights. When he did respond, his answer was beyond lame. “I haven’t had time to hang it up.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “In ten years?”

He slid open the bottom drawer in his desk. “Here,” he said, reaching down. “It’s here. Hang it up if you want.”

Dad put the framed photo on the flat surface, moving his hand away quickly, as if he’d just held a snake.

Ivy didn’t move toward the desk. In fact, she was grateful the frame was facedown. She closed her eyes, regretting that she’d started this.

Every time Jem’s name came up in conversation, it ended like this—quickly, with one of them so angry that the other shut down. The only variation was which person was pissed. Today, it was Dad’s turn.

One minute, then two ticked by in silence, both of them looking anywhere but at each other. Or the photo.

Ivy wanted to escape. Needed to. “I have to get to work. What did you want?”

“Heard you went out with Bill a couple of nights ago.”

“So?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you attempted that in high school and it failed. Other night turn out any better?”

Ivy shook her head. “No. He’s still a humorless asshole.”

“You knew that before the date, didn’t you?”

She did, but too many emotions were running too close to the surface right now. Bill had always harbored a crush on her, something she couldn’t understand or snuff out, no matter how obvious it seemed that they were a complete mismatch. She’d only accepted his invitation this time because she’d known James would hear about the date. Her ability to resist the sexy, charming man was wearing paper thin. She hoped that by going out with someone else maybe James would give up on her, so she wouldn’t have to keep fighting her attraction to him so hard.

And it must have worked. She hadn’t seen James since the date, which meant he’d caught wind of it.

“Going out with him again?”

She shrugged. Truth was, she’d fucking marry Bill at this point if it would help her overcome her agonizingly intense attraction to James. So far, she’d managed to ward off his requests for dates, and somehow she had successfully dodged his attempts to steal kisses or hold her hand. And yet, none of that mattered.

Because of lunch.

For some reason, she hadn’t been able to wiggle her way out of walking across the street to the diner two or three times a week at noon. She’d foolishly justified the standing date, claiming it was just lunch, in broad daylight, in front of God and everyone in West Yellowstone.

She’d actually thought to herself What was the worst that could happen?

It didn’t take Ivy long to discover the answer to that question.

The worst was, James had wormed his way into her heart, making her not only want him sexually—and sweet Jesus, did she burn for him—but as a friend. God, as a best friend.

A few days earlier, it had been on the tip of her tongue to tell him about Jem. She actually would have if he hadn’t been called back to base because of a fire.

It was ironic that fire singed everyone but her. One mention of the word and she turned to ice, a bone-deep freezing sensation that left her numb and exhausted.

James had excused himself and Bill had appeared, asking her out. She’d said yes without a single thought or hesitation. And she hadn’t seen James since.

“What’s Jamie think about you and Bill?”

And now Dad was getting to the heart of the matter. He’d asked about her lunch dates with James a couple of weeks ago. She’d assured him they were just friends, and he had let the subject drop. Ivy had foolishly believed she’d convinced him.

“Why would I care what he thinks about it? We’re not dating.”

Dad’s gaze fell to the frame on his desk. “Maybe you should be.”

She narrowed her eyes, her temper piquing. “Oh, that’s rich. Tell you what, Dad. I’ll date James when you hang up that picture.”

Dad sucked in a deep breath, her words striking hard.

“Forget it,” she hastened to add. “Forget all of this.” She walked to the door as she spoke.

“Scout,” her father called out, but she wasn’t stopping, wasn’t spending one more minute in that office. Dad didn’t follow her. Not that she’d expected him to. If there was one thing Wagners excelled at, it was quick jabs followed by unhindered escapes.

Her mother had been the first to master both, blaming Dad for Jem’s death before filing for divorce and running off to her sister’s house on the East Coast. Dad had let her go without a word—not in defense of himself or to beg her to stay.

Since then, she and Dad had waged the same skirmishes. They’d play nice until the thread grew too tight and one of them blew. That was when she packed her bags and headed back to school, and he buried himself in work.

She knew on the surface, even to the people who knew them best, they looked like the adoring father-and-daughter duo. If only that were true. It used to be. Before…

Ivy had almost made the perfect escape, but luck clearly wasn’t on her side today.

“Hey, Ivy.”

She didn’t have to turn around to recognize James’s voice. The deep timbre never failed to set the jittery butterflies in her stomach free.

Turning around, she fought to gird her loins, so to speak. She was on shaky ground after the confrontation with her dad and feeling way too vulnerable to face James.

“I’m late for work.”

James didn’t take offense at her sharp tone. “I only need five minutes.”

She blew out an annoyed breath that should have warned him she was in no mood to talk. Problem was, James appeared to have reached the limit of…something…as well.

He reached for her hand, tugging her away from the base office, toward a storage shed on the other side of the parking lot.

She tried to pull her hand out of his grip, but James wasn’t letting go. Ivy didn’t bother to stop walking because it was obvious he’d drag her there willingly or unwillingly, and getting there over his shoulder with her ass in the air would be more humiliation than she could stand for one day.

When they reached the shed, he opened the door and shoved her into the dim space. There was one small window near the back that let in a bit of sunshine, but large boxes blocked most of it out. Even so, he didn’t bother to turn on a light.

“Listen, James. I don’t appreciate—”

That was as much as she got out before he kissed her. Hard.

His hands gripped her face in an impenetrable hold that told her he would only let go when he was good and ready. And given the way his tongue was exploring her mouth, she feared—oh, fuck that, she hoped—it would be years from now.

Ivy lifted her hands to his chest, pretending to herself for all of three seconds that she was going to push him away. That plan vanished the second she touched his rock-hard pecs. Jesus. He felt even better than he looked.

James slowly moved her backwards two steps until she was pressed against the wall. As he shifted their location, Ivy made a move of her own, untucking his shirt so that she could shove her hands beneath the soft cotton.

James groaned against her lips when her fingers found and stroked his nipples. He pulled his mouth away only an inch or so, his breath hot on her face. “You go out with that dick Bill again, and I swear to God, I won’t be held responsible for my actions.”

She was tempted to press him on that, to ask exactly what he’d do. While she suspected he meant he’d punch Bill’s lights out, she would prefer he punish her in some dirty, kinky, sexually mind-blowing way.

Ivy imagined James pulling her over his lap and spanking her, and she threw caution to the wind. “You don’t get to tell me who I date.”

“You’re wrong. From this point on, you’re dating me. Only me.”

Before she could deny that bold proclamation, he kissed her again. And this time, it was her tongue in his mouth. His hands found her breasts, cupping them, and she wished he’d follow her lead and dive beneath the material.

In fact…

Her fingers drifted lower, until they reached the waistband of his jeans. She slipped the button loose. Part of her expected James to stop her, but he didn’t. He was too focused on her mouth and her breasts. Or at least he was until she slipped the zipper down.

He lifted his head, his eyes locked on her face as she reached inside his boxers and wrapped her hand around his erection.

Fuck. He was thick and long and so ready to go. She hadn’t had sex in nearly two years, her drought due to a grueling work and school schedule.

“Jamie,” she whispered. This was going way too fast and too far, considering they were standing in a storage shed a hundred yards away from her dad’s office.

James placed one of his hands over hers on his cock, then he cupped her face with the other. “As much as I like the feeling of your hand on me, this isn’t why I brought you here.”

She tried to pull her hand free, but James tightened his grip.

“Next time you touch me like this, we’re going to be naked in bed together. And we’re going to have all night to do it right.”

Ivy started to shake her head, but it would be pretty fucking stupid to keep up her refusals. All James had done was kiss her and she’d taken it twenty steps further.

“I want you, Ivy. You know that. I know there’s something holding you back, and I hope at some point you’ll trust me enough to tell me what that is. But until then, you can’t go out with Bill—or any other guy. It makes me crazy jealous.”

They’d only known each other a month and they were nothing more than friends. The idea that he would feel so possessive, so jealous of other guys, seemed premature and irrational. A wise woman would tell him to take a flying leap.

Then she considered seeing James with another woman.

She’d hate it. Completely.

“I understand. But I get the same promise. No other women.”

“There’s no one else.” Then he gave her a lopsided grin that felt out of place after such a passionate moment. He glanced down at his hand, still wrapped around hers on his cock.

“Third base,” he murmured.

She laughed lightly. “That’s third base?”

“I’m going to have to draw up a diagram for you and Austin.”

“Your cousin?” She was confused, but amused nonetheless as she slipped her hand free from his pants. James was a master when it came to finding a way to lighten the moment, to make her laugh. She’d always been far too serious—in school, at home and at work. James brought out a silliness in her she didn’t know even existed.

His features softened. Her mind hadn’t registered the intensity in his eyes when he’d pushed her against the door for that incredible kiss. Probably because she’d been so totally blinded by lust.

“So no more dates with other guys?” he asked, obviously needing confirmation.

“No more dates. But, James, I still can’t date—”

“Tell me why,” he pressed. “Please.”

Ivy felt the walls closing in on her, her vision going fuzzy and gray around the edges. The pain of her confrontation with her dad combined with the stress of trying to fight something she couldn’t defeat.

She didn’t say the words. She never had.

Not even when her dad shoved her in therapy for a year after Jem’s death. She’d simply sat in the psychiatrist’s office week after week, insisting she was fine, that she was moving on and healing. When she turned seventeen, she convinced her dad she’d had enough and he let her stop going.

God. Now that she thought about it, she’d never heard Dad say the words out loud either.

Neither of them had ever found the ability to say, Jem was a smokejumper, and he died in a fire when he was twenty-three years old.

She recalled her father’s face when she’d asked where the picture was. The healing had to start somewhere, but even now, when she opened her mouth, trying to find a way to form the words into sound, nothing came. Her chest was tight and her hands started to shake. She clasped them together behind her back, but not before James noticed.

“God. Ivy.” He paused, confused and concerned about her sudden distress. “Stop.” His hands cupped her face.

She’d suffered a decade’s worth of panic attacks, so she knew one when it hit.

James, however, looked spooked. “It’s okay, Ivy. Breathe.”

She drew in the deepest breath she could manage, then she tried again. And again. It took her a few minutes, but she managed to regain enough control to say a few words. “I want to…”

The rest clogged up in her throat.

James gave her a friendly kiss on the cheek. “You’ll tell me when you’re ready. Until then, we stay the course.”

She frowned, confused, until he clarified.

“Lunch.”

Ivy nodded slowly, forcing a weak smile.

Lunch she could do.

For now.

Until he added, “And no dates with other people.”

This wasn’t going to end well. And yet she couldn’t stop it. James was a force of nature and her heart wanted him. Desperately.