days ago, offering another taste of exhilaration, he’d accepted reluctantly. He was only here to honor Tommy’s memory. To offer himself to Josh and the rest of the team one last time.
Maybe Laine could remind him why he belonged with these guys. “Oh, yeah, I’m coming.”
LAINE SQUINTED. Most of the bar was a vague blur.
Maybe she shouldn’t have ordered a cosmopolitan then downed half the contents in one swallow. Gulping was the only way she could get the thing down. Though her sister and friends had claimed the drink as their own—as a joke, since being cosmopolitan in tiny Kendall, Texas, was something of a challenge—she’d never gotten used to the taste.
She was going to need a designated driver at this rate. And still nothing would change the humiliating call she’d gotten that afternoon from her editor.
Mac, in his charming, sweet way, had torn into her pictures. Though at least by sending the digital images, she’d assumed that he couldn’t literally tear them.
“Do I need to send one of the boys out there to show you what pictures of a fire look like?” he’d asked.
She’d sent him pictures of evacuation preparations, people living in the shelters and firefighters getting into their gear. Though planning to develop a well-rounded piece—complete with uplifting shots as well as action ones—she was still working her way up to the actual fire.
“You don’t need to send the boys,” she’d said, not at all surprised by Mac’s impatience. “I’m going up in a helicopter tomorrow.”
Which was why she was drinking tonight.
Her assurances had warded off Mac’s threat of replacement and kept her paycheck coming—for the moment anyway.
She sipped her cosmo, winced, then promptly advised her scaredy-cat conscience that she wasn’t some insecure little girl who had nightmares about her boyfriend’s horrifying death. She’d conquered her fear of heights years ago. Her hands had barely shaken as she’d watched a truckload of tired-looking smoke jumpers climb out of a chopper yesterday.
Unfortunately, her plan to take care of Aunt Jen wasn’t going much better than her job. She’d tried to convince her aunt that her home was about to be consumed by fire. And wouldn’t it be a good idea to be prepared for that event?
Nope. Not according to Aunt Jen. And her prayer group was working overtime just to be sure.
“Can I buy you a drink, honey?”
Scowling, she glanced up at a smiling, dark-haired man. “No, thanks.”
Men were the last complication she needed. Thankfully, she hadn’t seen Steve or anyone on his team yesterday, as they were deep in the forest, digging fire lines. She’d met Chief Jeff Arnold, finding him professional, experienced and cooperative.
And much more interesting than the guy who was now sitting next to her, despite her refusal of his drink offer.
“I’m Mark,” he said.
Laine pushed to her feet. “I’m going.”
“Don’t go. Have a drink with me.” Mark pointed at her half-full martini glass. “Cosmo?”
“Yes, but—”
As Mark raised his hand to catch the bartender’s attention, she noticed something jaw-dropping. “You’re wearing a wedding ring.”
Mark shrugged. “I’m just looking for someone to talk to.”
No wonder she spent her days working and her nights and weekends balancing the books at Temptation. Alone. “Are you really?”
“My wife understands.”
“I’ll bet.”
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.
“Nothing,” Laine said before Mark could respond. Shaking her head, she waved. “Bye, Mark.”
As Mark the Cheating Scumbag got up from his stool and strolled away, Laine glanced around Suds. With its ancient-looking tables, scuffed floor, ever-flowing tap and simple bar food, it reminded her of Temptation.
It was still hard to believe she was too far away to rush back to Kendall and see what problems had popped up at the bar.
She did, however, have to worry what bills might need paying. And she couldn’t push aside the compulsion to call her sister and remind her to call the auction house about selling the furniture.
She’d left a clearly outlined plan of action taped to the bar before she’d left on Thursday, and she’d bet her best zoom lens that Cat hadn’t so much as glanced at it.
Digging her cell phone from her purse, she called the bar. Though it was nearly nine on a Sunday night, she knew her sister wouldn’t be home with a cup of tea and a book.
“Cat?” she yelled into the phone over the blaring music.
“Lainey?”
Laine ground her teeth. “Have you called the auction house yet? We need to get some cash for the furniture to pay off the liquor supplier.”
“Hi, sister dear, how are you?” Cat answered back in a sarcastic tone. “How was your day? I’m sure it’s so difficult dealing with everything all on your own since I left you there without a thought at all for anybody but myself.”
Laine eyed the bar in front of her and tried to resist the urge to pound her head against it. They’d had this argument already. Her income was all they had at the end of the month. She had to make sure the money kept coming in. “Please don’t start, Cat,” she said calmly. “You’ll be fine. Just follow my list.”
“What list?”
“The one I taped to the bar that explained step by step what you needed to do this week.”
“Oh, I wondered what that was. Some guy spilled whiskey all over it Friday night. I threw it away.”
Laine rubbed her temples. Why had she called? Why did she continue to submit herself to the torture of communicating with her sister? “I’ll e-mail you another copy. And call the auction house first thing tomorrow.”
“I’m busy.”
“Please, Cat. We have to get moving on these things.”
“Yeah, sure we do.”
Was that a catch in her sister’s voice? Okay, maybe she was irresponsible and forgetful, but she was family. Her baby sister. This closing was hard on her. Maybe—
“Look, Laine, I’ve got to go,” she said and disconnected.
Their once-boisterous Irish father was no doubt rolling over in his grave at the tension between his two girls. Laine had always taken care of her sister, tried to get her to do the right thing, the responsible thing. But Cat never saw things the same way and inevitably dug in her heels whenever Laine tried to convince her otherwise.
Feeling
