Chapter Eleven
The drive to Bozeman went faster than Rachel had anticipated, and it all had to do with Jamie. As the van swallowed up the miles and the dark road flew beneath the wheels, he kept up a steady, humorous dialogue, so she was hardly aware they had been driving for over three hours until suddenly, there was the sign indicating they had crossed into Bozeman.
“We’re here!” she exclaimed in surprise.
“You did good,” Jamie replied from the back row. “It’s just past midnight. What do you want to do first—head over to the hospital, or grab a room somewhere and catch some sleep?”
That made Rachel pause. Just the thought of spending the night with Jamie caused heat to pool in her center. She decided she really was a terrible person, because she was already looking forward to spending time with him in Bozeman, where nobody knew either of them, and nobody would judge them.
“I’d feel better if we could check in on Dylan first,” she said, glancing at Jamie in the mirror. “I told my parents I would call them as soon as I had talked with the doctor. Hawaii is four hours behind us, so they’ll still be up and waiting to hear from me.”
“The hospital it is, then,” Jamie said.
They pulled into the dark parking lot fifteen minutes later, and Jamie eased himself into his wheelchair. They made their way to the patient information desk, where a nurse asked them to wait in a nearby lobby for Doctor Hartmann.
The hospital was eerily quiet, but there was one other occupant in the small waiting area. A man sat on the opposite side of the room, his head bent into his hands. He wore a heavy yellow shirt and a pair of military fatigue pants, both of which were dark with dirt and soot. On the floor beside him was a red backpack and a firefighter’s hard hat. Rachel exchanged a meaningful look with Jamie.
“Excuse me, sir?” she ventured.
The man raised his head, and Rachel was momentarily taken aback by the red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes in the soot-darkened face.
“Yes?”
“Did you come in with Dylan McCafferty?” Rachel asked.
He straightened. “I did, yeah. And you are—?”
Rachel extended her hand. “I’m his sister, Rachel, and this is his good friend, James Colter. We came as soon as we got the news.”
The man stood up and shook both of their hands. He was tall and lean, and beneath the dust and grime, very good-looking. “I’m Tyler Dodson.”
“How is he?” Jamie asked.
Tyler’s eyes swept over Jamie, taking in the wheelchair and extended cast on his leg. “He got caught in a crosswind during a jump and came down in a copse of trees. His leg is busted up pretty good, and he was impaled on one of the tree branches.”
Rachel gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “Oh my God,” she breathed. “I didn’t know…”
Tyler looked grim. “The doc said they’ll need to remove his spleen, and he’ll be laid up here for a week, at least.”
“Have you seen him?” Rachel asked. Jamie had rolled his chair closer to her side, and now he reached out and took her hand in his. Rachel didn’t pull away, drawing strength from his presence.
“No, he’s still in surgery. I’m just waiting for the doc to come out and give me an update.” His bleary gaze shifted beyond them. “There he is now.”
Both Rachel and Jamie turned to see a surgeon, still wearing his scrubs, walking toward them. His face was somber, but he gave them a weary smile.
“You’re Mr. McCafferty’s sister?” he asked, extending his hand. “I’m Peter Hartmann.”
“How is he doing?”
“Your brother is strong. He came in with an open fracture of the kneecap. Essentially, the patella shattered and we had to perform surgery immediately since he had bone fragments that perforated the skin. We also removed his spleen, but I expect him to make a full recovery.”
“Can I see him?”
The doctor hesitated. “He’s still in recovery and pretty groggy. You can see him, but only for a moment.”
Rachel nodded. “I’ll be quick.”
“I’ll stay here,” Jamie said, releasing her hand. “I’ll have a chance to see him tomorrow, when he’s a little more lucid.”
“Do you mind if I tag along?” Tyler asked. “I’d like to be able to tell the captain he looks better than he did when we pulled him out of that tree.”
Leaving Jamie in the waiting area, Rachel followed Doctor Hartmann through the corridors, as Tyler Dodson walked quietly alongside.
“Are you going back to the wildfire?” she asked him.
He nodded. “Yeah. I’ll head back to the base camp tonight. The captain will likely come by in the next day or so to check on him.” He slanted her a questioning look. “How long are you planning to stay in Bozeman?”
“My parents are on a cruise in Hawaii, and I’m not sure when they’ll be able to make it back here. We’ll stay here until they arrive.”
“You and James.”
He said it as a statement, and although she didn’t detect any judgment in his tone, Rachel couldn’t help but feel defensive. “Yes. Jamie grew up across the street from us. He’s Dylan’s best friend.”
“Yeah, I got that,” he said. “I just thought you two were—” He broke off. “Never mind, I haven’t gotten more than four hours of sleep in the past three days, so I’m a little out of touch with reality.”
“No, tell me,” Rachel urged. “What did you think?”
Beneath the soot and dirt, Rachel thought she saw a flush darken his cheekbones. “It’s none of my business, but I thought maybe you were a couple.” He shrugged. “If you’re not, my mistake.”
Before Rachel could respond, they reached a set of swinging doors, and Doctor Hartmann held them open. “He’s through here,” he said, indicating a room filled with medical monitors, and beds partitioned by curtains. He stopped at the end of one bed, and Rachel couldn’t contain her soft gasp when she saw her brother.
One leg lay cushioned on a foam pad, with ice packs on either side of the knee. The knee itself had ballooned to three times its normal size, and a long incision ran over the top, closed with surgical staples. To Rachel, it looked like something out of a horror movie. The leg itself was swollen and discolored, and several other wounds had also been closed with staples.
He was covered with only a light sheet. Rachel could see tubes protruding from his abdomen, and his entire torso was mottled with darkening bruises. Her brother’s dark blond hair, which normally hung to his shoulders in careless waves, was hidden beneath a surgical cap. Only the dark scruff of beard growth on his face looked familiar to Rachel.
“He looks worse than he is,” Doctor Hartmann assured her. “I’ll let you visit for a minute, but keep it brief.”
Rachel nodded, her eyes on Dylan. “Of course.”
She moved to the side of his bed and, careful not to disturb the intravenous tubing in his arm, took his hand in hers. She studied his face, noting the changes since she’d last seen him. With his strong jaw, chiseled cheekbones, and golden good looks, he’d never had a shortage of girlfriends. The few people who’d made the mistake of thinking his long hair meant he was a tree-hugger didn’t know the real Dylan McCafferty. He was an adrenaline junkie; an extreme adventurer always in search of the next thrill. He was happiest when jumping out of a plane or battling a wildfire. Now she looked at his leg. Would he ever jump again?
“He’ll be okay,” said Tyler. “It’ll be a good three to six months before he can resume normal activities. I doubt he’ll ever jump a fire again, but considering he could be dead, I think that’s a preferable alternative.”
Rachel nodded and blinked back sudden tears. “All he ever wanted was to be a smoke jumper.”
Beside her, Tyler laughed softly. “Not to argue, but I don’t think that’s entirely true. All Dylan wants is a challenge. Tell him he can’t do something, and guaranteed he’s going to find a way to get it done.”
Rachel smiled. “That’s true. I remember when he was training for the fitness test. He’d run up a mountain with a seventy-pound pack on his back every morning, and it wasn’t enough to just beat the time, he had to kill it.”
“That’s Dylan,” he agreed, and then suppressed a yawn. “I don’t know about you, but I’m beat. I’m going to head back to the base camp and try to get a few hours of sleep.”
Leaning down, Rachel pressed a kiss against her brother’s face. Then, with one last look at him, she followed Tyler back to where Jamie waited for them in the lobby.
“Where do you want to stay?” he asked, after they left the hospital and he had settled himself into the back of the van. “We passed a bunch of hotels downtown.”
“I made reservations at a lodge on the outskirts of town,” Rachel replied. “It looked nice, and the rooms are big.”
There was a momentary silence. “You already made reservations?” Rachel heard the disbelief in Jamie’s voice. “When did you do that?”
“While I was packing my overnight bag to come down here.” Rachel pulled out of the hospital parking lot and onto the main road, suddenly aware of how tired she was. “You forget; this is my specialty. I have two dozen travel agents on speed dial, so booking a place in Bozeman was a cinch.”
“A lodge, huh?”
She glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “There’s some kind of big rodeo going on through the weekend, and a lot of the downtown hotels are fully booked. This place sounds nice, and we’ll only be here until my parents arrive.”
“One room?”
Rachel smiled. “Of course.”
“Then I’m going to love the place.”
The sprawling wilderness-style lodge overlooked a river, and was constructed of massive logs with a steeply peaked center roof that soared four stories high. Jamie eased himself into his wheelchair and stacked their two duffel bags onto his lap, before expertly wheeling himself up the ramp and through the wide entry doors.
Inside, Rachel stopped for a moment, and just stared in awe at their surroundings. A massive waterfall, complete with rock formations, trees, and other greenery, dominated the center lobby, while the ceiling soared upward. On the far side of the lobby was an enormous stone fireplace flanked by live pine trees. Looking up, Rachel saw each level of the hotel had a balcony that overlooked the lobby, supported by immense tree trunks. Tables with colorful umbrellas were arranged around the waterfall, and a gurgling stream meandered through the lobby, crisscrossed by rustic footbridges. Deer heads had been mounted on the supporting pillars, and chandeliers made of antlers hung suspended over the tables and the reception desk.
“Wow, this is pretty spectacular,” Jamie commented.
“I like everything except the animal head display,” Rachel said, wrinkling her nose. “All those eyes watching me…” She shivered.
Jamie nodded. “Yeah, I have to agree with you.”
They checked into their room, and made their way to the third floor. As they passed through the hallway, they were on eye-level with the top of the waterfall, and Rachel saw the lobby ceiling was a glass dome, through which she could see the stars.
Inside their room, Jamie tossed their bags onto a chair, and swiveled around, taking in the king-sized bed, the sitting area complete with small kitchenette, and the sliding doors that led to a private balcony.
“Well, at least there are no prying eyes in here,” he commented.
“Yes, thank goodness,” Rachel agreed. She pushed her hands through her hair. “I’m just going to brush my teeth and freshen up before bed.”
Jamie nodded. “Sounds good.”
In the bathroom, she almost wailed with despair when she saw her reflection in the mirror. Her hair had mostly come loose from the ponytail, and hung in messy disarray around her face, which looked pale and tired.
Shedding her clothes, she turned on the shower and then coiled her hair into a bun on top of her head, before stepping beneath the hot spray of water. The day’s tension eased from her body, and she spent several long minutes under the stream, letting the hot water soothe her troubled thoughts. She dried off quickly and pulled on a pair of boxer shorts and a T-shirt, before letting her hair down and using her fingers to fluff it around her face. She quickly brushed her teeth, and then pinched some color into her pale cheeks.
Drawing a deep breath, she opened the door to see Jamie was already in the big bed. His toiletries sat on the counter beside the kitchenette sink, and his clothes were folded on a nearby chair. He’d turned the bedside light on to the lowest setting and the room was cast in shadows, but Rachel could see he was asleep, and she felt a pang of guilt for having kept him up so late. Careful not to disturb him, she slid beneath the sheets, and reached out to turn off the light.
In the darkness, she could just make out his profile, and the steady rise and fall of his chest. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and Rachel cautiously snuggled against him. She slid a hand over his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin and the contour of the muscles beneath. She wanted to slide her fingers lower to explore the hardness she’d glimpsed earlier, but was reluctant to disturb him. She closed her eyes, pushing down her disappointment.
*
Jamie lay awake for a long time after Rachel crawled into bed beside him. He could smell the clean, floral fragrance of the soap she’d used, and when she slid her hand over his bare skin, his body reacted instantly. He’d had to stifle his groan of frustration and concentrate on keeping his breathing even, knowing if she slid her hand downward, she’d discover he wasn’t asleep at all.
Far from it.
More than anything, he wanted to lift her over him and have her straddle his aching body; to bury himself inside her and lose himself in her tight heat. But he recalled again the weariness in her eyes and the exhausted slump of her slender shoulders. She needed sleep more than he needed sex.
Grateful when she curled on her side, he listened to her breathing grow slower, until finally she was asleep. He blew out a hard breath and flung one arm over his head, staring through the darkness at the ceiling, knowing he wouldn’t find sleep quite so easily.
*
He couldn’t see anything. Couldn’t move. Could barely breathe for the thick dust and grit that filled his nostrils and mouth.
He lay in utter blackness, pinned where he was by the weight of the heavy concrete above him. When he tried to shift, agonizing pain tore through him, as if someone had taken a red-hot poker and driven it through his midsection.
Somewhere, in the darkness, he heard a tortured moan. Someone was dying, and there wasn’t a fucking thing he could do to help. Was it Santos? He tried to call his buddy’s name, but when he opened his mouth, it filled up with dirt until he began to choke.
He was being strangled.
He was dying.
He struggled to free himself, but he couldn’t move.
Someone called his name.
“Jamie. Jamie.”
His lifeline. His only hope.
“Jamie.”
A hand touched his shoulder, and he surged upward on one elbow, disoriented and gasping for breath.
“Jamie, you were dreaming, but you’re safe now.”
He turned his head and realized he was in bed with Rachel. She had turned on the bedside lamp and now she leaned over him on one elbow, her face clouded with concern. He shoved a hand through his hair, trying to dispel the nightmare. Outside the window, the sun had already risen.
“Water,” he managed to croak.
Without hesitation, Rachel jumped out of bed and hurried over to the sink, filling a tall glass with water and carrying it back to him. She knelt on the mattress beside him as he drank it in noisy gulps. He swore he could still feel the grit of the nightmare in his throat.
He handed Rachel the empty glass and fell back against the pillows. He was coated in a fine sheen of sweat, and he felt weak, as if he’d just completed a triathlon.
“Hey.” Rachel smoothed a cool hand over his brow. “Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” he said, his voice a harsh rasp. Reaching out, he pulled her down beside him and wrapped his arms around her, breathing in her soapy-clean scent. She represented everything that was good and pure, and right now he needed that. He wanted to lose himself in that with an urgency that wouldn’t be denied.
Reaching down, he began pushing her boxer shorts down over her hips. “Take these off,” he muttered, too impatient to have any finesse.
She did as he asked, shimmying out of the boxer shorts, and then pulling her T-shirt over her head until she was completely nude. He devoured the sight of her slender curves, her full, high breasts with their dusky tips, and the thatch of dark hair between her legs. Without waiting to be asked, she leaned over him and pulled his shorts down over his hips, easing them over his cast until she could pull them free.
He was already hard, his erection straining against his stomach. He didn’t want to wait; he couldn’t wait. He needed to be inside her now.
“Hurry,” he demanded.
Rachel raised one leg to straddle his hips, and he moistened his fingers with his tongue and swiped them over her cleft in a crude effort to prepare her. Then he grasped her hips in both hands and surged upward, pushing himself into her hot, tight depths with a loud groan of satisfaction.
Rachel gasped, and then she was working with him, rocking her hips and clenching her inner muscles with each forceful thrust. Lust swirled through him and the nightmare receded. He’d been prepared to reach his own climax without her, but watching her as she rode him, he realized she was close. Her face tightened in an expression of pleasure-pain as she neared her climax.
Jamie watched as her orgasm rolled over her, and then he let himself go with a guttural cry of release, surging upward as she tightened around him, pouring himself into her until there was nothing left for him to give.