come to get help.
“Sorry if I disturbed anything, but …” Lucas said, pulling back on track. “Does your dad still have that big old van?”
“Yeah. It’s in the garage. Why?”
“Any chance we could borrow it?”
“No one has driven it in years. Probably doesn’t even run.”
Due to her confused expression, brows low, eyes narrowed, lips pursed—he especially liked that last part—he figured he owed her an explanation. “I’ve got to get Dad to his doctor’s appointment in half an hour and Jack was supposed to pick us up and take us. He’s a no-show.”
“Oh,” she said. “Yesterday afternoon Jack got a call at school to report for duty to fight the fire.”
Anne had already explained how Jack was a teacher at the high school and a volunteer fireman for Whispering Oaks. Wait until Anne found out about Jack getting called in to fight the fire.
“Let me find the key,” Jocelyn said. “Though the van battery’s probably dead.”
“I’ve got jumper cables.”
She found the key hanging on one of multiple hooks in the laundry room and handed it to him. Their fingers touched and the pop of pleasure immediately grabbed his attention. “Let’s see if it starts,” she said, leading him into the garage. “If it does, it’s yours.”
“Thanks,” Lucas said. “We really appreciate it.”
Once in the driveway, Lucas couldn’t help but notice how Jocelyn had to hike up her tight skirt in order to climb inside the van. Not wanting to tick her off, he averted his eyes after a quick appreciative glance.
He ran home to grab the jumper cables and to wheel his dad outside. On his way, he noticed a darkened sky with deep purple and red haze beneath and huge black clouds above a distant ridge. The wind had picked up instead of settling down, which didn’t bode well for the firefighters, including Jack. Anne would be worried sick.
After he’d gotten a relieved Kieran inside the big old red van, with his leg cast stretched across the spacious back bench seat, Lucas loaded in the wheelchair. He closed the heavy door and turned, almost bumping into Jocelyn. Up close she smelled really good, like marshmallows and flowers.
He stretched the orange cables from car to van. “Pull your car up and leave the engine running,” he said.
Lucas gave her a thumbs-up and Jocelyn started the car engine. “Now the van!” he called.
Lucas watched Jocelyn hike up her skirt again in order to slip behind the steering wheel. This time Lucas let himself enjoy the whole, long-legged show. When his eyes kept moving upward, he realized he’d been caught.
Jocelyn glanced at her lap before her lashes fluttered back up and she looked into his eyes. There went another mini jolt right through his chest—better than caffeine.
A tiny mischievous smile accompanied her glance as she turned the key and the old behemoth engine coughed and sputtered to life. Their eyes met and held a few moments, and he wondered if she felt what he was feeling. Turned on.
“Come on, you guys, or we’ll never make it on time,” said Mr. Personality from the backseat.
Lucas shot up in the dark, panting, drenched with sweat. There was fire. He smelled it. Where the hell was he? Clutching his chest, heart pounding in his throat, he searched frantically for a clue, but he had to wait for his eyes to adjust to the dark. It was too soft to be in a sleeping bag on the desert floor. Besides, he had a pillow, and he never had a pillow out there.
Right. He was home, at Whispering Oaks. It was two in the morning on Friday. There were wildfires in the distant hills. He was okay.
With adrenaline crawling along his arms and legs, he threw back the covers. He needed mindless tinkering. Keeping busy. Distraction. Anything to keep from thinking.
His pulse slowed a fraction as he headed for the kitchen. He avoided the creak in the hall floor outside of Anne’s bedroom so as not to wake her.
After he got his drink, when he stepped outside, he came to a halt. Something had changed. The wind had stopped. He glanced across the backyard to a glowing orange ridge in the distance. Maybe now the fire would settle down, too.
Letting the last of his nervousness drizzle out, he opened the garage door and got to work changing out the headlights on the car.
Time slipped by and, as had been the early morning routine since he’d been home, Anne eventually showed up. Tonight she had an old high school yearbook in her hand and a melancholy expression in her eyes. She’d tried not to be obvious when she found out about Jack fighting the fire today, but Lucas could tell by the way she bit her nails and twisted her hair all evening that inside she was freaking out. Something big was going on between her and Jack.
He glanced at his sister, hair every which way, nightgown hanging loose nearly to the floor, looking like some kind of messy angel. She climbed into the Mustang, talking about anything that seemed to pop into her head. It led back to high school and a love triangle between Anne, her best friend at the time and Jack. He’d tried his best to stay out of that drama back then but still recalled the heartache his sister had lived through.
When she started what he called the remember game, he tried to keep up, knowing she might throw in a curveball pop quiz. So far, the first few questions she’d thrown at him had been slow and down the center.
“Remember the night before I left for college when I came and sat here and told you that I still loved Jackson Lightfoot but I could never have him?”
Was he supposed to remember those kinds of conversations? “Uh, kinda.”
She went dramatic, tossed back her head and groaned. “Damn, Lucas, I break open my heart and spill my guts to you and you don’t remember?”
“I didn’t say I didn’t remember. I just said it’s a little vague. Why don’t you run it by me again?”
And she did, boy did she, the whole sordid tale, which went on for at least fifteen minutes. He kept busy with the headlight, eyes nearly glazing over. Finally, things got around to the real reason she couldn’t sleep.
“The thing is, I never quit loving him …”
So this was her bombshell? Hell, he could have told her that. Now all she had to do was be practical.
“Then why not move back here and be with him?”
For his effort of listening to and supporting his sister by offering a solution, he got the death glare.
“Ugh. It’s not that easy.”
“Sure it is,” he said. “What do you have in Portland that you can’t find here?”
She sighed and, ignoring him, thumbed through the yearbook.
Several minutes slipped by in silence. He was okay with that. It allowed him to work on the headlight change in peace.
“Do you believe in people finding the love of their lives, Lucas?”
“Nope.” He knee-jerked his answer as he used a wrench to tighten a bolt, then thought about Anne and Jack and what she’d just confessed. “But maybe in your case.…”
Not answering, she closed her eyes and hugged that ancient yearbook to her chest. A moment later she got out of the car. “Thanks for listening, little brother.”
Lucas loved his sister. He’d probably never said the actual words I love you, Sis, but right now he felt her pain and wanted her to know he cared. He gave her the first genuine smile he’d made since coming home, besides the one for Jocelyn, and it reached all the way inside, warmed him up and felt pretty damn good. He rubbed at a foreign, dull tugging in his chest.
“And by the way—” Anne said, closing the car door “—when you get ready