Sook.

So that was the Ice Queen's name. Chase marveled at it, tasted it, turned it over in his mind.

Okay, so it was kind of a weird name. But he could work with weird.

The three of them—he and Garrett, with Hank at the front—stood around the occupied bar stool, but the woman refrained from rising. Chase hadn't caught onto it immediately, but he understood now: This is an awkward situation. He had managed to avoid most situations like this in his personal life simply by being charming, or so he told himself. Hank was a hard-ass with almost zero outward charm that Chase could perceive . . . hence, the unpleasant reunion they were all being forced to live through right now.

Hey, Sook.

"Well, hello there, Hand of God," the pilot said. The retort would have flown over Chase’s head completely had he not heard what the woman behind the counter had whispered on seeing Hank enter. "In town for a visit? That's unlike you."

Hank shifted beside him, and Chase almost did a double take. Was his chief actually uncomfortable right now? "Business," Hank corrected. "I'm here with a volunteer contingent to help with the fire."

"That makes two of us," the woman replied, and turned back around on her stool. Chase couldn't stand it; he was itching to say something, to make himself stand out in the frigid exchange. It was driving him crazy, not knowing if she recognized him or not. Maybe he had only imagined the astonished look in her eye a moment ago when her gaze had leapfrogged to him.

Only one way to find out.

"Nice to meet you, Sook." Chase stepped forward and took a pair of defibrillators to the dead conversation. He could tell that his immediate neighbors were alarmed by the intrusion, even though he had been standing there the entire time.

The pilot swiveled back around on her stool. "Don't call me Sook," she snapped. "It's Sookie."

"Sookie." That made more sense as a name, he supposed. "Chase Kingston." He extended his hand. He had already decided to ignore the defensive tone in her voice. He understood on some level that while it was directed at him, it wasn't actually meant for him . . . yet. After a split second of contemplation, she accepted his hand, shaking it firmly. She hadn't warmed, exactly, but seemed more willing to give him the time of day, knowing her harsh greeting hadn't scared him off. "Hank, why didn't you tell us the world's most beautiful woman was hiding out in Cedar Springs?" It seemed a safe enough compliment, considering he had no idea how his chief might be connected to this woman. She may very well be the mysterious childhood sweetheart Chase was betting on.

"I suppose 'world's most beautiful' is subjective," Hank said, "especially considering the hand you won't quit shaking belongs to my kid sister."

Holy shit. This was Sookie Logan. Hank's sister. How had he not put two and two together until now?

Sookie was watching Chase's reaction play out across his face, amusement plain in her expression. He pulled his hand a little too quickly from hers and was gratified to see that she almost looked disappointed. "That's right. I'm Sookie Logan,” she said. “It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"That's not the impression you gave me earlier," Chase said. He saw Sookie cut him a quick, steely look, and he was happy that he hadn't just been imagining things back on the tarmac. Then she smoothed her expression the next instant before Hank might notice.

"The two of you have met before?" Garrett's voice was all astonishment, and Chase almost turned around to deck him one in the chest. For Christ's sake, tone down the overacting, Wyld.

"Yeah, they met before." Hank appeared uncertain of his own claim, but continued. "She stopped over in Alaska some time back. That was before you were with us, Garrett."

"My hair was longer then," Sookie said forgivingly.

Chase felt like a complete moron for not placing her sooner, especially considering she really was one of the most striking women he had ever met. He tried to call up a picture of the kid sister he had seen from a distance in Alaska—and wasn't disappointed. Sookie really had grown up since then; she had a tighter body now, for one thing, and seemed more confident in her own skin. He supposed flying aircraft and being dead sexy as hell probably had something to do with the poised way she carried herself.

The way she was looking at him now, too, made him think he wasn't the only one who had overlooked a lot on her visit. "You didn't remember me, either," Chase said, guessing.

"I remember you now. You were one of the new recruits." Sookie actually blushed at this. The warm color that suffused her cheeks struck him as startlingly girlish. He wasn't one to call grown women adorable, but damn . . . she was adorable. "You've packed on some muscle since then."

"I have. Thanks for noticing." Hank cleared his throat, and Chase raced on. "So . . . you're with the National Guard?" He gestured to Sookie's gear, and she glanced down at herself. When her face resurfaced, that sassy little eyebrow was raised at him again, the same way it had been back on the tarmac.

"Well, I'm not dressed for an early Halloween," she replied, and Chase had a feeling she was being merciful. He imagined that beautiful women in the National Guard, like the beautiful women who occasionally fought fires alongside him, were used to their credentials being questioned by the meatheads they worked with—if not the more ungrateful civilians they worked so tirelessly to save.

"You're our air support, then," he said.

"Very astute of you," Sookie replied in mock astonishment.

"If astute girl like you thinks so," Chase replied humbly. He heard Garrett clear his throat behind him, but he wasn't looking to impress Garrett with his pun.

He was surprised when Sookie laughed, a full-throated, bell-like sound—not like the tiny bell that hung above the diner door, but like a heavenly instrument. He liked the way her head fell back, liked the way the appreciative smile bloomed across her face—fuck, he liked it all. Especially the part where it was his lame pickup line that amused her.

Hank crossed his arms. Chase, suddenly reminded that he was flirting with his chief's sister, under his chief's direct supervision, realized he might have made an error in judgment. But he couldn't stop himself now, not when Sookie was looking at him with those gorgeous blue eyes full of wry expectation, waiting to see how far he would push it. Damn it, but beautiful was a powerful intoxicant.

"You know, guys in our squad have a name for girls like you," he said.

"Really," said Sookie. "And what do you call girls like me?"

"Angels," he replied. "You watch over us, but you're always flying just out of reach."

Hank cleared his throat again. Loudly.

Sookie was staring at Chase, her look of amusement suddenly turned to contemplation, but she snapped out of it the moment her brother interrupted the pause. "Well, Fireman Chase, I appreciate the sweet comparison. But I can guarantee you've never met a girl like me."

"Are we counting the time we met before?" Chase inquired, but Sookie just chuckled and shook her head as she slid off her stool. As she walked past the three of them, she let her finger trail along the front of his T-shirt to the squad logo sewn over his left pec. His stomach muscles tensed at the touch, and his blood started pumping. He watched Sookie Logan breeze back out the door of the diner, already familiar with the slight sashay in her step.

He was a lucky man, getting to watch her walk away from him twice in one day.

A luckier man wouldn't let her walk away a third time.

Hank clapped him on the back. Hank tended to use more force than the average person, but Chase thought there was something especially ominous about the strength behind this gesture. "Eyes on the prize, Kingston," Hank advised. "And off my little sister's ass."