"Three weeks under control," the Cedar Springs fire chief reported.

Beside him, the liaison from the governor's office adjusted his glasses. He was the smallest man in the room, and clearly conscious of the fact.

"That's better than we've seen all summer," remarked the county commissioner. "At the risk of sounding overconfident, I think it might be time we consider a downgrade."

Hank stood at the center of the room, arms crossed. Flanking him were the other volunteer team leaders. None of them were endowed with any more authority than another, but the other leaders always gave Hank a place at the head of their group. His squad had been the first to respond to Cedar Springs' call for help, and his personal connection to the town was no secret by now. They considered him as much a local as the Springs chief.

Three weeks under control.

He wished he could say the same for himself.

One of the volunteer leaders glanced at him. Hank wasn't sure what the man expected him to say. He probably should say something, but hell if he could remember now what the fighters had discussed among themselves before the meeting. Lana's face burned like an ember in his brain. All the rest melted away like 8mm film.

"We're concerned about the incoming storm," the leader to Hank’s right mentioned. "There's the possibility that it will push the fire more northerly from the southern region."

"I appreciate your concern," the commissioner replied. "The meteorologists have been keeping us up-to-date on the storm track. At this time, my department doesn't think that it poses a significant risk."

Hank knew how all this worked. There were too many extra bodies, too many volunteers, and they were eating up resources fast. The pencil-pushers at the commissioner's office had their own reports to compile, and the results were clear. Cedar Springs simply couldn't support this many volunteers. The town was eager to get back to its sleepy business-as-usual, and Hank couldn't say he blamed anyone for thinking that way.

The sooner things returned to normal, the better.

And that meant packing the volunteer squads up—and going home.

Hank left the meeting with Alaska on his mind. He was aware that the other squad leaders had expected more from him in the meeting, but at the end of the day, it wasn't his call. If the commissioner's office had the weather patterns and numbers they thought they needed, then he wasn't going to give voice to a gut feeling he only half-acknowledged himself. The battle against the fire wasn't over . . . but maybe it wasn't his problem anymore.

Maybe it was time to let things go.

Back at the fire station, he pulled a few items from his borrowed locker and shoved them into his duffle bag. Better to begin the packing process now. He thought he could count on Chase Kingston to be the one panicking at the last minute, and a cursory glance over at his squad mate's overflowing locker proved his instincts right. He had warned Chase, more than anyone else, about putting down roots here. Looked like the other man had decided once again not to heed sound advice.

Hank slung his bag over his shoulder and headed out. He rounded the corner of the station . . . and nearly plowed right into Lana Sweet.

Hank took a staggered step back to avoid bowling her over. He was a big man and knew the effects of his size and strength.

"Oh, Hank!" Lana exclaimed. "I'm sorry! I wasn't watching where I was going!"

"Lana?" Her name was a riddle on his lips. "What are you doing here?" He couldn't help staring at her in disbelief. They hadn't been able to avoid running into each other these past months, but he couldn't think of a reason for her to be at the station.

"I . . . actually, I was looking for you." Lana teased a few strands of hair back behind her ear. She still wouldn't make easy eye contact with him, not directly. Not the way she used to.

It killed him to see the struggle play out, but he had no idea how to reach for her. All he could do was stand before her and wait.

At last, she said, "How did your meeting go?"

"Good." This wasn't what either of them wanted to talk about, but he was getting used to it. "The fire's been downgraded as a threat. They're going to start sending people home."

Lana’s head jerked up, and her gaze bored into him. "Oh?" It felt worse than having her avoid his eyes.

"Figured I'd volunteer the Alaska contingent if no one else steps up right away," he continued. "We've been here the longest, and I know some of the boys are getting antsy to head back. And I'd like to get home to the station before someone manages to burn it down in my absence."

It was a lame joke. Lana didn't even try to muster a laugh. He could see her thoughts racing a mile a minute behind her eyes.

"Hank, I want you to know that I . . . I can't forget what happened between us the other night. I've tried."

"I know." He felt like an asshole saying it, but he meant it more than she could possibly guess. It wasn't Lana's fixation that worried him, but his own. He couldn't think straight enough even to speak at meetings anymore, which was partly why he thought it high time to head home. "I don't want to forget it."

"Neither do I." Lana surprised him by reaching for his free hand. Her fingers closed over his. "I figured your time here might be drawing to a close. I came by today to ask you to stay . . . just a little longer. I wanted to invite you over for dinner tonight, at least. There's something important I want to discuss with you."

Hank's heart lurched. A warning bell went off in his head. He thought he knew what it was that Lana wanted to discuss with him, but the two of them being together . . . it wasn't the right thing. They couldn't recapture the past. He wasn't any good for her, then or now. And after caving to his desire, he needed to keep his distance from her, more than ever.

"I've got some time." Contrary to everything he was thinking in that moment, the words somehow slipped free. His control wasn't just being tested, it was being pulverized by a pair of gorgeous green eyes.

Lana perked up. The fingers around his squeezed as she smiled happily. "Good. Because I wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer. I've already got a bun in the oven."

"Your mom's homemade bread?" Hank guessed.

Lana's expression was queer, but she nodded. "I know it was always your favorite."

"Some things never change."

They agreed on a time that evening and parted ways. Don't even think about sleeping with her, Logan, Hank thought as he watched the love of his life stroll away from him. Not in the cards.

And this time, he wasn't allowed to deal himself a new hand. Lana was off-limits to him. She had to be, if either of them hoped to survive this next encounter.

The fire had to be put out—once and for all.