Wildfire (12 page)

Chapter
11

Lynn almost spewed coffee as she stared at the
San Angelo
Herald’s Society Page
. A large black and white picture of Jack and a blonde
stopped her from flipping to the comics section. The woman, identified as
Katherine Harrington, clung to his arm and flashed a movie-star smile. Jealousy
clouded her mind. The dragon bristled. Hands off
. Now
.

She sputtered and coughed as coffee went down the wrong
pipe, making Jen glance away from the early morning scene she was trying to
capture in watercolor. Her painting already looked like a photograph of the
view outside the kitchen window. “Are you okay?”

Lynn nodded, ducking her head as common sense flooded her.
She had no right, no right at all, to be jealous. She and men weren’t meant to
be. Hadn’t her experience with Rob taught her anything? In fact, she shouldn’t
even care who Mr. Callaghan socialized with, unless the woman turned out to be
his partner-in-crime. She narrowed her eyes, studying the woman’s perfect
up-do. Jack was nothing more than a nice guy, an acquaintance. A suspect. She
flipped back to the front-page news stories.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jen squinted at her. “You look
kind of peaky.”

Lynn raised the mug to her lips and took a careful sip.
“Must be catching your cold.” Truth be told, she’d had a restless night. Her
stomach muscles clenched as she remembered her early morning dream. Jack, her,
and a giant out-of-control water hose. It was a wet dream in more ways than
one. Heat spread downward from her face.

Fortunately, Jen had turned back to the window and to her
work. “There’s Jack!” she called out.

Lynn popped out of her chair and spotted a cloud of dust
approaching. God, how was she ever going to face the man? She whirled toward
her room. Maybe she’d pretend to be sick. And lose the chance to interrogate
him again? No way, no how. Lynn drew up her shoulders and turned back toward
the approaching green pickup. Get a grip. The dream was nothing more than a case
of nerves strained by the plumbing disaster of the century.

Or maybe Jack was totally to blame. The surprise of seeing
him clean would have been too much for anybody. The way the tuxedo jacket had
hung off those broad shoulders and molded to his wide back, tapering at the
waist, and the way the jeans showed off the long lines of his legs, that very
nice ass.

Her temperature had spiked to dangerous levels when he’d
returned from the living room sans tux, shirt and cowboy hat. All the contours
and planes she’d imagined laid bare. Her fingers had tingled with the need to
run them through his hair, across his sculpted stomach. While he’d worked,
she’d checked him out. Seen his muscles contract and relax under smooth skin,
drops of water shine and sparkle caught in the swirl of dark hair that
disappeared into his tight, tight jeans.

Warm, melting sensations shivered through her.

She scowled as she swung her backpack onto her shoulder. The
dragon’s raging hormones kept throwing her off her game. Once she’d woken from
the dream, she’d tried a cold shower, then meditating. Neither had worked.

“I just need to get the guy to answer some questions,” she
muttered. “Then he’ll be a) behind bars for arson, b) burnt toast, or c) riding
into the sunset with the blonde.” A reedy breath skittered out of her. “Then I
can stop—” Stop what? The involuntary flutters she experienced every time Jack
came in view? Stop dreaming? Ha, good luck.

“What?” Jen said, frowning.

“What? Oh, ah…, Jack’s here.”
She
scrambled to open the door.

A giggle stopped her mid-step. “Have fun!”

Fun? Oh no, what was Jen up to? Initially, she’d been
embarrassed at her friend’s insistence that Jack play tour guide. Then her
practical self had re-asserted itself. Whatever Jen’s intentions, hers were all
business.

Lynn stuck out her tongue at her friend. “Don’t wait up!”
She turned to face Jack as he held the truck door open for her and her insides
turned to mush. He wore a sexy grin and tight Wrangler jeans. The Dream Cowboy.
Yeehaw!

Jack watched Lynn saunter up to the truck. The sway of her
hips, the way her gray t-shirt clung to her curves, those flashing dark eyes—
oh yeah, she was
hot
.

She stopped inches from him, the apple scent of her perfume
tempting him to step closer, bury his face into her nape. “So, where are we off
to?”

How about my house? Or, more specifically, my whirlpool,
couch or bed? “There are some Indian drawings at a ranch near the town of Paint
Rock, about an hour away,” Jack said. “In fact, the name Paint Rock comes from
those drawings.”

“Sounds interesting,” Lynn said, climbing into the truck. “I
minored in anthropology in college, so this is right up my alley.”

Jack started the truck and glanced at Lynn. The excitement
shining in her eyes made a smile balloon inside him. He’d been nervous that
Lynn might not like the hike. He gave her points for dressing practically:
jeans, a t-shirt and hiking boots. No make-up and hair pulled into a
no-nonsense ponytail. She looked beautiful.

Desire tugged at him. He wanted to kiss her. Better not jump
the gun and spoil their first date —F— first date? His mouth went dry and he
swallowed a couple of times. Let’s see, he’d offered to show her around, she’d
accepted. Now the two of them were spending the day together. If it walks like
a duck and quacks like a duck...

“What’s Natural Farms Inc.? I just noticed the sign on your
truck.”

“Yeah, I need to wash it more often.” He pulled out onto the
road. “Natural Farms Inc. is my business,” he said. “We only grow organic
products.” He stuck his right hand out. “I’m the CTO.”

“What’s a CTO?” She grabbed his hand and shook.

A buzz rushed his head. “Chief Tractor Operator.”

Lynn laughed and looked at the countryside zooming by. “So,
do you farm all this land?”

He stared out of his window. Once, all of it had belonged to
the Callaghan family.

“No, there’s my place, then the Callaghan-Avery ranch, owned
by my sister and her husband, and a few other owners scattered all around us,”
he said. “I farm about seven hundred acres and that’s more than enough.” People
shook their heads when they talked about his grandfather and dad selling the Callaghan
legacy piecemeal whenever the need for money grabbed them. You know what? Good
riddance. Too much work.

They passed the occasional abandoned home falling apart into
the weeds, rusty tractors missing parts and windmills standing still. Jack fell
silent. His gaze flicked over at her. “The rubble of people’s dreams,” he said,
staring forward again. “Each of those abandoned houses is a sign of somebody
giving up.”

Jack frowned harder as he drove past a large Hope Developers
sign.

Lynn had seen several of those signs dotted around the
countryside during the drive. All of them featured a sketch of a fancy house— large
glass windows, corrugated roof, and stone columns— next to a picture of a
laughing, picnicking family. It announced:
Coming Soon! Paradise Point— your
escape to a better life
.

She had the sudden urge to smooth out Jack’s scowl. She
wanted to kiss his worries away and tickle him until he cracked a smile.
Instead, Lynn sat on her hands to keep from touching him. Damn it. This was
crazy.
You don’t know what he’s thinking. He could be planning his next
fire.
“Well, I guess the new subdivision will revitalize the area.”

He cut her a sharp look. “No, they’ll just turn it into yet
another over-crowded, over-commercialized faceless suburb. Mow down the
wildflowers to put up Starbucks and shopping strips.”

The bitter tinge to his words left a bad taste in her mouth.
She swallowed past it. “I thought there was a children’s park in the plans.”

A thin laugh. “Instead of climbing trees, the kids will
climb monkey bars, but where will all the wildlife go?”

His anger seemed to suck the air in the cab. Lynn fidgeted
in the uncomfortable silence.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I just hate seeing the land
abused like that.”

She cleared her throat. “It’s understandable. Being a
farmer, you’re close to land and nature.” After a beat, she added, “Farming
must be hard. Is the profit worth the work?”

“You definitely don’t get into it for the money nowadays,”
he said, “with the water shortages and droughty weather we’ve been having for
the last nine years. Not to mention the developers buying up land at prices
farmers can’t even dream of paying.”

A lump formed in Lynn’s throat. “Why did you go into
farming?”

Jack shrugged. “I like working outdoors with my hands,” he
said. “I can’t imagine being stuck behind a desk all day.”

Lynn glanced at him and saw his knuckles were almost white
as he grasped the steering wheel. His lips pressed together in a thin line. She
could sense his pain, see its impression on his face. The word “suspect”
whispered in her mind, over and over again.
Eternal damnation
. Lynn
turned her face to the window. “So were you born into it? Are you carrying on
the family tradition?”

He barked out a laugh. “Can’t imagine too many of my
forefathers willing to get dirt under their nails. Nope, I’m forging my own
path.” Jack leaned forward and snagged a brown envelope from the dash, then
handed it to her. “Oh, before I forget.”

“What’s this?”

“Open it.”

She discovered her article. Jack had cut it out of the
paper, mounted it on a piece of black cardboard, and laminated the whole thing.
Pleasure at his thoughtful gift fizzed through her.

“Thanks, that’s so nice of you.” She smiled at him. “Are you
always so nice?”

“Once in a while. Just to throw people off,” he grinned,
then turned serious. “It’s a real good story, and I wanted to make sure you had
a copy.”

“You really liked it?” She ran a finger over her name.

Jack nodded. “I was there and I know how it ended, but even
I felt compelled to read it,” he said. “You’re a natural storyteller.”

Lynn ducked her head. She put the article back in the
envelope and carefully resealed it. Jack’s words warmed her from the inside
out. He couldn’t be the rogue. She didn’t want him to be.

They drove up to a metal gate with a cattle-guard underneath
it. Jack stopped the truck and got out to open the gate. Heat flamed Lynn’s
skin as her gaze settled on his ass. Flashes of her dream —his tanned, lean
body against hers, his mouth on her breasts, her fingers wrapped in his hair,
her mouth tasting his salty skin— played in her mind. She looked away when he
turned and headed back to the truck. Damn teen dragon. Why didn’t she get over
the hormones already?

The truck door creaked open and he settled into his seat.

Lynn cleared her throat. “The ranch owners won’t mind us
looking around?”

“They’re family friends and I called them ahead of time. But
they also open it up for the public from time to time.”

Jack stopped the truck again, so that he could shut the gate
behind them. But Lynn hopped out and closed it.

They drove a short distance and parked. “We’ll have to hike
up to the rocks,” Jack said. “It should take us a couple of hours to look
around.”

Lynn followed Jack’s lead along a trail heading up into the
high bluff. He jumped rock to rock, nimble and goat-like.

“You really know your way around this place.”

“Like the back of my hand,” he called back. “The owners’ son
and I spent many Saturdays adventuring among these rocks.”

Jack pointed out the different pictures among the rocks as
they threaded their way along. The sun had faded the ones that were more in the
open; but others, that lay hidden behind crags and other rocks, still held rich
colors: ocher, red and sometimes a greenish tinge. Some stood out starkly in
black and white. Lynn identified a few hunting scenes, involving deer, arrows
and men. She spied a cross with the date 1643 on it.

“How old are these?”

“Most of the pictographs probably date from about 1400
A.D.,” Jack said. “Some, like that cross, were made by Spanish explorers.”

“How do you know that?”

Jack shrugged. “I’m into history, both local and wider
range. So I’m always reading about things.”

The sun beat down at them from the center of the sky as they
headed back. High noon. Sweat beaded her hairline and heat radiated from her.
She glanced at Jack. Sweat definitely worked for him. Tendrils of his dark hair
curled against his neck, while his damp t-shirt clung to his broad back. She
drew in a sharp breath as her heart thudded, heavy and loud, and the dragon
coiled in her stomach. She wanted to taste him, feel him. She wanted to know
Jack Callaghan. Lynn closed her eyes for a moment. No, she didn’t want him. The
dragon was the horny one.

“Ready to eat?” Jack asked as he stepped onto level ground.