There were two options for why she might be here, so far as Sookie was concerned.

Either A, she thought the insufferable Chase Kingston was hot despite his obnoxious personality, and her dry spell had lasted long enough that she was willing to forgive everything else about him; or B, she was pissed off at her brother, and seeing Chase behind his back was the best way she could come up with on short notice of sticking it to him.

Why not both? Sookie wondered as she reflected on the calculus. She stood outside the Springs Well, dressed casually in a loose-fitting tank top and jeans, and tried her hardest to avoid looking like she was waiting. She watched the evening sky transition behind the ever-present curtain of haze. As the temperature around her cooled, only slightly, and the shadows deepened, her awareness of the smoke in the air increased. She had almost gotten used to the smell these past few days.

How much longer until we start putting out the smoke warnings? Months? Weeks?

"Hey, there!" a handsome voice hailed her. "What's an Angel like you doing alone down here on Earth?"

Sookie turned, glad for a distraction from her more worrisome thoughts. Chase sauntered toward her along the sidewalk from the station. She approved of his hustle—it meant she didn't have to stand around and devote energy to the appearance of not waiting for him anymore. And while she would never admit it out loud, seeing him quickened her pulse. She felt a jolt of adrenaline like the kind she only got when she flew.

No way Chase Kingston could excite her as much as flying . . . could he?

He halted beside her, grinning, almost as if he could read her thoughts and approved of them heartily.

Sookie regretted that she wasn't wearing her usual reflective aviators. She had no way of knowing what he was reading on her face to make him smile, and she had no way of hiding it.

"I liked it better when I was the Ice Queen," she said.

"I bet you just liked being called a queen," Chase said, speculating, and Sookie didn't correct him. She would never admit it out loud, but she liked his nicknames for her. Anything he came up was a stark improvement on Sook.

"What do you say we skip the bar tonight?" she asked.

He looked puzzled. The Springs Well was the only bar in town.

"Dyna's?" he suggested. It was cute, the way he said it, like an outsider testing out the local lingo.

It had been a long time since Sookie had found a grown man cute.

"I've got a better idea," she said.

Chase raised an eyebrow. "Better than Dyna's diner?"

"Maybe not better. How about . . . different."

"Different's good," Chase said as he followed her out into the forested darkness behind the bar. "A girl guaranteed me recently that I had never met anyone like her before."

"Oh? Was she right?" Sookie picked her way through the gloom under the trees. She knew the deer path like the back of her hand, but she went slowly now so Chase could follow her easily.

"She was," Chase said.

"Sounds like a handful." Sounds like more trouble than she's worth, a mutinous voice added in the back of her head, but Sookie quickly shut it up. What was the matter with her? It had been a long time since she had let the 'unworthy' voice out of the bag. She hadn't heard from it since earning her wings two years ago.

"Hell," he chuckled. "I don't think there's any denying that."

They broke through the tree line, and Sookie stepped aside to more easily allow Chase's broader form out into the open. A sleek, silver creek snaked along the ground at her feet, bubbling conversationally. She approached the shadowy bank and squatted down.

"What are you . . .?" Before Chase could complete his thought, she produced a cooler of beer. She turned in place, dangling the handle enticingly from her fingers. "No more Ice Queen," he stated. "You're an amazing woman who knows her way to a common man's heart."

"Shut up and sit down." Sookie threw one leg over a nearby log, then the other, and took a seat. Chase joined her, and she passed him a beer. "Shoot. I forgot the bottle opener," she muttered. She considered her bottle for a moment before his hand reached out of the darkness to pry it from her.

Chase sat back, lifted the hem of his shirt, and popped the top off on his belt buckle.

Sookie's mouth watered. She didn't know if it was for the beer, the demonstration's nearness to his (obviously well-endowed) nether regions, or for the sculpted half of that magnificent torso he bared without a second thought. "Thanks," she said as he passed the beer back to her.

"Cheers."

The clinked their bottles together and drank. They sat for a long moment in silence—which, when you were in nature, wasn't a real silence at all. But the air felt quiet—too quiet, so much so that Sookie could almost hear the hum of the electricity sizzling between them. Last time she'd been this near to Chase in the dark, she’d had a Long Island Iced Tea, and a warm-up beer before that, to buffer her.

"You know, Sookie Logan, you just might be the coolest girl I've ever met," Chase said.

"Is that supposed to make my panties fall off?" she asked wryly. In the hazy twilight, she could see his eyebrows lift in fake surprise.

"Are we in danger of that happening?"

"You're a firefighter," she reminded him. "You're always in danger."

"And if I'm not, you can bet your ass I'm not doing my job right."

"I feel the same way," she said.

Chase turned on the log to face her, his beer dangling loosely between his knees. "Why did you join the National Guard? Why did you become a pilot?" he asked.

Sookie shrugged. She took a sip of her beer. "You went up today," she reminded him. "Why do you think? It's amazing up there."

"But that's not it." He surprised her with his certainty, and Sookie lowered her beer. "Why do you do it, exactly?"

"Is that supposed to clarify your question for me somehow?"

"You're stalling," he said.

Sookie exhaled through her nose in frustration. She jogged her leg, then glanced out toward the landscape. They were facing south, away from the fire. The view under the fading light was perfectly serene, perfectly as it should be, silhouettes of trees rising against the sky. There wasn't a tree out of place. If a person never turned around, they might not realize their life was in peril until the blaze was actually upon them and it was too late.

"If I tell you, then you have to tell me something personal about you," she said. "About why you chose to be a firefighter.”

"Sure." Chase suddenly didn't sound so eager.

"I mean it, Hotshot. Otherwise you stand no chance of getting laid tonight. Take it or leave it."

"There's plenty I'd like to take," he said gravely. "But I'll start here."

A little shiver raced up her back before she could suppress it. She liked to give Chase shit almost relentlessly, but God, when he got a filthy innuendo in edgewise . . . it did things to her. "All right. After Hank left town, I sort of . . . ran away." She blushed and looked down. This wasn't how she had intended to start things off. "I mean, by then I was legally an adult, of course. But I sure as hell made some childish decisions. I was homeless for a bit. Surfed friends' couches. Hunkered down in my car. Slept on the street when I had to."

She expected Chase to voice his disbelief at this. Chase said nothing. He watched her, his eyes two gleaming, anchoring points in the darkness.

Sookie raised her beer to take another fortifying drink and continued, "So yeah, I started life out there in the big, wide world a little bit mixed up. I certainly don't regret the experience, but I wasn't doing anything to find myself. I was running. I ran all over the country before I eventually landed in the National Guard. I needed a place to stay, mainly. I was worn out. Totally directionless. Then I fell in love."

"With someone in the Guard?" Chase asked.

Sookie shook her head. "No. With flying. Almost from the moment I learned I could pilot one of those Black Hawks, it's like my path was suddenly set. I locked onto my fate, and I knew what I'd been put on Earth to do. Four years of ROTC and I got my degree. I'm not running anymore, but that doesn't mean I have to give up escaping. Flying above it all . . . well, you know what it's like, now. You're not just above it all physically. It's like your mind is suddenly free."

"What was holding it prisoner before?" Chase asked.

Sookie shifted and rolled the beer bottle between her anxious palms. "My . . . Hank's and my . . . family life wasn't super great." She didn't know what else to say. She had no idea how much Hank might have told Chase already . . . although, knowing Hank, it was probably less than nothing. She could still withhold the rest of the story. She could still keep the truth safely locked within her.

Because she still didn't know if she trusted Chase Kingston.

"No matter where you might go on the ground, someone might find you," she said. "Show up on your doorstep, ready to beat you over the head with your past. Up there, though, you're out of reach."

"Sounds lonely."

"It is. But it's better than the alternative."

"What's the alternative?" This time when Chase swiveled toward her, his knee brushed against hers. Sookie hadn't realized they were sitting that close, but she didn't shy from the contact. "Another person?" He was pressing her, taking her down a path she didn't want to go. His thigh was pressing against her thigh, letting her know its marble hardness, making it hard to focus on the treacherous conversational terrain she was being forced to navigate.

In the end, Sookie didn't know how to respond to him. She settled for jabbing her finger into his bicep. Really, she just wanted an excuse to test the solid-looking muscle’s strength for herself, and she wasn't disappointed. "Hey, I already told you more than I tell most people. Now it's your turn to spill."

"I'm flattered." Chase shifted, turning away slightly, and Sookie realized at once that he was closing himself off.

She reacted by grabbing his beer. He rounded on her, and she dangled it playfully out of reach. "C'mon, Chase. It's partly why I brought you out here."

"Can't wait to get to the other part of your plans for me," Chase muttered, but his heart clearly wasn't in it.

"Be real with me," she insisted.

Chase chuckled. "All right. Fair enough. But my reasons aren't as romantic, or as noble, as yours are. I joined the department because of the rush I get saving people. You said you were addicted to flying? I'm addicted to adrenaline. It gets you back to the basics of what it means to be a human. It burns everything else away."

"What else needs to be burned away?" Sookie asked.

"My father, Court, mostly." Chase scowled. "And . . . anyone else who didn't think I was good enough."

"Was there someone else?"

Chase said nothing, and she had her answer. Someone left you, she thought as she looked at him, sitting slumped on the log beside her. A woman.

"You loved her," she guessed.

"Doesn't matter." He took his beer back while her guard was down and finished it off. He rose to crack another. "It was a while ago."

"The past can be very present," Sookie said. "Especially if you don't deal with your demons."

"You should know, right?" Chase dropped back down beside her. There was an edge to his voice, but Sookie didn't take offense. He was right. She never practiced what she preached. A part of her had wondered if coming home to Cedar Springs would help her resolve all the pain she carried with her. If she could just unload it all like a supply drop, she might stand a chance of lifting off again.

"I've been in relationships before. Well, only one serious one," she admitted.

"Yeah?" Chase challenged, engaged again. "Why'd that fall apart?"

Sookie shrugged. "I guess a part of me just doesn't know how to be around men. Maybe it's the guys I meet, or . . . maybe it really is my fault. I don't know. But I always feel silenced, and walked all over—before long, it feels like I just exist to be a spectator to someone else's life and interests. It's like having my wings clipped."

"And what kind of guardian angel would you be to me and my squad without your wings?" Chase surprised her by stroking his fingers along her back, tracing the definition of her shoulder blades.

"I'm no angel." The hand on her back deepened its touch, and she arched. She was surprised when she didn't emit a purr of approval. It felt that good.

Chase sighed. She could practically hear the sexual frustration released on his breath. "We should go in," he muttered. "Early day tomorrow."

"Did I ruin the mood?" Sookie frowned. She liked Chase's hand on her back and resented it when he took it away.

"What mood?" he asked innocently. "We're colleagues, remember? Just colleagues sharing a beer."

"In the middle of the California woods, at night," she said.

"Beneath the stars."

"With work in the morning," she reminded him in a sudden turnabout. Because as much as Sookie hated to admit it, Chase was right. They had their roles to fulfill by the light of day—both in and out of uniform. Would she wake up tomorrow and find that things were still the same between them? Maybe night was only good for softening adversarial edges, rather than abolishing them completely.

Sookie got to her feet with a heavy sigh of her own. She locked the cooler up and stowed it back within the weeds. Who knew when she would need to escape next? The government’s Hawk wasn't fueled for personal excursions into the sky. A cooler full of beer by the creek would just have to do for now.

And she would have to satisfy herself with parting ways with Chase, taking with her only the lingering memory of his touch. It had taken tonight for her to realize she really did want more.

So how the hell was she supposed to go about getting it? The man was as wounded as she was. Their attraction was undeniable, its conclusion maybe even unavoidable—but what if they just wound up hurting one another more in the process?

They walked back into town together. Chase's hands were buried in his pockets, and Sookie wondered if he didn't trust them to behave.

God, how she wanted them to misbehave around her.