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Back to Buckhorn

Lori Foster

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dedication

I never know where a story (or characters) might take me, so I like to have info up front. Now, though, I feel like I have enough great research material to write many more firefighters! To all the following people who answered firefighter questions, thank you very, very much!

Katie Fairbanks, Deborah Lamoree, Andrew Naylor, Walter Fairbanks, Brian Wood, Joan Swan & Rick. You all rock!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

About the Author

Copyright

Chapter One

Sunglasses shielding his eyes from the hot afternoon sun, Garrett Hudson watched the front of the airport, scanning each female who strode out. He could have gone inside to baggage claim, but then he might’ve missed her. He stayed on the alert; people changed over time, and there was a good chance Zoey would look right past him. Though she’d had a few brief visits back to the area, they hadn’t seen each other in years, and she expected his sister, Amber, to be her ride. But a busted pipe at the bookstore had sidelined Amber, and he got recruited at the last minute, which meant he was running late.

Would he recognize her? How much had she changed? He remembered her as the quirky girl from high school, the one who had danced without caring what others thought, who laughed at the oddest things.

Often the odd girl out, not that she’d ever seemed to care.

He remembered her being kind, always speaking up for the underdog, always befriending the other odd ducks, not because she minded going it alone, but because she knew they did.

What he remembered most about her, though, was her mouth. Full lips. Soft smiles. An easy laugh.

Not only did she have the sexiest mouth he’d ever seen, but she also talked a lot. Sometimes nonstop.

Back then, he’d been amused by her.

And he’d always wanted to kiss her. Badly.

For the tenth time, he checked his watch. When he looked up again, a new crowd of people surged out, dragging luggage along in their wake. He scanned each face, his gaze going past an older couple, a young mother with a kid, a bedraggled brunette—

His attention zipped back.

No way. Could it be? He’d think not, except for the way she zeroed in on him while biting her lip. That was a tip-off.

Zoey had always bit her lip when uneasy.

Damn. What the hell had happened to her?

She looked... Trying to be kind, he decided on not good.

Starting forward, he called out, “Zoey Hodge?”

She stared right at him, proving she did, in fact, recognize him. That probably accounted for the lip biting, too. He knew he’d always made her nervous...which was why he’d never gotten that kiss.

Anytime he’d made a move, she’d dodged him.

When he got close, she groaned and covered her face with both hands. And stood there. On the walkway in front of the airport with people forced to move around her.

“Zoey?” Pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head, Garrett bent to see her face. She stood several inches shorter than his six-two. Given the clothes she wore, he had no idea about her build.

But she smelled like throw-up. “Zoey.” Why wouldn’t she look at him?

“Can you just go away?”

He straightened. “Come again?”

She made a shooing motion with one small hand, then quickly covered her face again. “I’ll get a bus. Or cab. Or...I’ll walk if I need to.”

Hands on his hips, Garrett considered her, but because he needed to be back at work soon, he decided to just take charge. In most instances, with most people, that worked.

He scooped up one bag, grabbed the handle of the other. “I’m taking your luggage.” He stepped away...and waited.

Dropping her hands with an overly dramatic sigh, she said, “Fine! Suffer me.”

Her makeup was everywhere, making her green eyes a focal point in her face, which was framed by badly tangled, dark brown hair.

But that mouth...damn, it looked as good as ever.

Ignoring her comment—what could he say?—he started off. “I’m parked this way.” She grudgingly followed.

Trailing behind him, she said, “I don’t always look like this.”

God, he hoped not. “Want to tell me what happened?”

As if she’d been waiting for him to ask, she started babbling. “There was a crying kid on the plane. He puked on me. I’d checked all of my luggage instead of carrying it on, so the mother gave me this—” she looked down at the baggy gray T-shirt “—this thing to wear. I think it was her husband’s. Anyway, I got most of the mess washed off my face and chest, but there wasn’t enough water in the tiny bathroom to get it out of my hair. I smell bad. I look bad.” She pointed at him. “And you had to show up?”

His mouth quirked. Yeah, he’d always remembered Zoey Hodge as being different. Eccentric.

Original.

Off the top of his head, he couldn’t remember any other woman screeching at him in accusation. “What’s wrong with me?”

Her expression said it should have been obvious. “You’re you.”

“Okay.” What the hell did that mean?

She bit her lip again. “That is...well, you know I had a crush on you in high school.”

“You did?” News to him. Hell, he’d had a crush, but had never acted on it.

“Well, of course I did.”

With no idea what to say, he just nodded.

“And,” she continued with emphasis, “when you see an old crush after so many years, well, it’d be better not to reek, right?”

“You’re fine,” he lied. The baking sun amplified the smell, so he was glad when they finally got into the covered garage.

“I was all set to explain to Amber, to maybe even laugh about it—”

“Really?” He couldn’t imagine.

“—and instead you’re here, seeing me like this, making me even more humiliated and—”

“Amber had a small catastrophe. I was the only one available.”

“Catastrophe?” She stopped dead in her tracks. “Is she all right?”

“She’s fine. Her bookstore’s a little soggy, though, thanks to a broken pipe.”

She started walking at a fast clip to catch up with him. “Oh, man.” She pushed back her long matted hair. “Well...I don’t mean to be ungrateful.”

“You’re out of sorts.” Under the circumstances, she had a right to be grouchy, but she wasn’t. More like frazzled, and plenty embarrassed.

They reached his truck and he put the bags in the back then went around to open her door for her. “We can leave the windows down and the smell won’t be so bad.” He hoped.

She groaned dramatically and got in. Poor thing. She even had stains on the top of her sneakers.

She noticed him looking and wrinkled her nose. “It’s in my shoes. I can feel it squishing when I walk.”

Sympathy kept the smile off his face.

One hand on the roof, the other on the door frame, Garrett watched her buckle up. Out of the blinding sunlight, he saw that no part of her had been spared. Her hair. Her face. Her jeans. Only the god-awful, too-big, men’s gray shirt was clean, but it didn’t add much to the getup. “The kid really hurled on you, huh?”

She turned to him, shading her eyes against the sun. “The little guy was so sick.”

Even under the unusual circumstances, something about her had him analyzing all her features. Big green eyes, slightly upturned nose and that lush mouth. She had small hands and delicate wrists, so she was probably still slight of build. But under the clothes, Garrett couldn’t tell for sure.

Yeah...and he should probably quit trying to tell. Forcing his gaze up to her face, he said, “That’s rough.”

Nodding, she said, “My heart just broke for him. Two years old and miserable on that plane. And his poor exhausted parents, they were doing everything they could. When he got distracted with me, I thought, well, good. Right?”

She didn’t give him a chance to answer.

“Finally he wasn’t crying. And I like kids, enough that I didn’t mind entertaining him.”

He remembered her as always being kind. Most people stuck on a plane with a noisy kid would gripe about it. Not Zoey. She’d tried to help. Nice.

“He was in my lap when he started retching.” She wrinkled her nose. “Ever seen a kid projectile-vomit?”

“Uh, no.” Thank God.

“I tried to...catch it.” She held out a cupped hand to show what she meant.

The smile broke. “Yeah? How’d that work out?”

“It was like a shower of puke.” She scrunched her face up more. “Who knew such a small kid could hold so much?”

Laughing, Garrett closed the door and walked around. As soon as he got behind the wheel, she continued.

“I didn’t really think about it. It was like...reflex or something, ya know?”

“Sure.”

“As a firefighter, maybe you’d have known how to handle it better.”

He gave her a disbelieving stare—and her mouth twitched.

“That was reaching, right?” Humor made her eyes even brighter, a beautiful focal point of color in her face. “But firefighters are heroic and all that so I’m sure you’d have figured out something.”

Definitely not his area of expertise. “Let’s hope I’m never put to the test.”

“He kept twisting around,” she said, still trying to explain how she’d gotten covered, “and I was trying to keep him from spraying anyone else—and that’s when he got me head-on.” Leaning toward him, she whispered, “It filled my bra.”

His gaze dipped to her chest again, but being covered in puke took the fun out of boobs, so he only made a noncommittal sound, then started the truck and backed out of the cramped parking space. “You seem like a natural. Do you work with kids for a living?”

“No. I work—worked—for a pet groomer. Now I hope to set up my own shop here.”

“Planning to stay?”

She waffled...and then changed the subject. “Amber already told me that you’re a firefighter. Do you like it?”

He nodded. “We’re a small department. A mix of hired and volunteer guys.”

“I’d love to see the station sometime.”

“Sure.”

“Do you do all that PR stuff, like visiting the school and teaching fire safety classes and reminding people about their smoke detectors?”

“We do.” He enjoyed interacting with his community, always had. “I like visiting the school the most.” He slanted her a look. “That is, as long as no one is chucking.”

She laughed—and damn it, he liked it. Her laugh could make him forget about the smell of toddler throw-up.