Amy Fetzer - The Re-Enlisted Groom

Maxie looked at him. “Then tell him to do it. I’ll be out at my place, waiting.”

“Are you saying he’s stuck with you?”

“I don’t have much choice, do I? I agreed in writing to let the rescue service use my land for their choppers. Besides—” she shrugged “—it’s a big place. A big house.” She could go an entire day without running into him if she tried hard enough. And she would.

Maxie threw the door open and smacked into Kyle’s chest. It was like hitting a brick wall, and he caught her shoulders, steadying her, yet keeping her close. Her gaze jerked to his, her hands flattened on his chest. For a long moment neither moved—Maxie lost in the familiar feel of his body molding to hers and the memories that came with it, Kyle wanting to touch more than her shoulders.

Someone cleared his throat. Kyle’s lips curved ever so slightly. But it was the self-satisfied twist to them that sent Maxie backpedaling...right into Jackson. From behind, Jackson settled his hands on her shoulders, and Kyle’s features tightened.

Even if Temple were in peak physical shape, he was a good dozen years older than Maxine, Kyle thought, then was angry with himself for the need to justify another man touching her.

“Fire up that bird, flyboy,” Jackson said. “Time to move it.”

Kyle lowered his gaze to Maxie’s and he found only resignation in her expression.

“It appears you’re staying at my place.”

So she could stick pins in a festering wound? “I’ll pass.”

The old rebellion he remembered in her rose to the surface.

“I think we can be adults about this.”

His eyes darkened and he scoffed. “That’s a first,”

She smirked, folding her arms. “Being your usual witty self, I see.”

Kyle knew she was referring to the ugly remarks he’d made this morning. He regretted that his emotions got the best of him and was determined not to let it happen again. He just wished she still didn’t turn him on like a light switch.

Jackson squeezed her shoulders, silencing another dig, and Maxie patted Jackson’s fingers, then glanced back at him. “See ya.”

Kyle’s eyes narrowed as she pushed past, walking briskly to the doors. He watched her go, then brought his gaze back to Jackson. He opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it. If Maxie could appear casual about the arrangements, then so could he.

“Not a room available anywhere, flyboy, so what will it be? Maxine’s—” Jackson’s lips curved “—or the back seat of your chopper?”

Still Kyle fought the inevitable. “I could sleep here.” He’d seen four cots in a small room at the back of the station. And it was a tremendous waste of fuel to head home each night and get here when, and if, they needed him.

Jackson shook his head. “For the team on call, sorry.”

Kyle rubbed the back of his neck and muttered a curse. “Not much of a selection left, then, huh?”

Jackson fought a grin and ever the diplomat, gestured inside the office. “Let’s get you some gear.”

Kyle followed. Jackson Temple was his boss for the next week or two, and although they’d only met earlier this morning, before seeing Maxie, Kyle liked him.

Kyle stood back as Jackson went to the cabinet and threw open the doors, withdrawing coils of nylon rope, extra rigs for mountain climbing, medical kits, a hand radio, a booklet of rules and regulations, authorization passes and stickers and the standard flame orange jacket the crew wore, fur lined and heavy. He stacked the gear on the sofa. “Check the radio—we’ve had a couple of duds lately.”

Kyle did, then started arranging the equipment in a spare duffel bag while Jackson wrote “Hayden” on a plastic tag and slipped it into the clear window above the chest pocket of the orange jacket.

“Thanks for showing up, Hayden,” he said, offering the jacket. Kyle looked up, accepting it, frowning. Jackson shrugged, then moved to the coffeemaker and poured a cup. “We’re badly shorthanded, with the flu going around. I appreciate your loan of the chopper.” He handed the steaming mug to Kyle. “I know this cuts into your paying business.”

“Just so you know, no one flies her but me.”

Jackson grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Possessive, huh?”

Kyle sipped. “Yeah, me and the bank are that way about things that aren’t paid for.” He set the cup aside to load gear.

Jackson chuckled, dropping into the seat behind the desk. He propped his boots on the edge. “So...how long have you known Maxine?”

Kyle stilled, frowning, then jammed ropes into the corner of the duffel. Maxine. He hadn’t heard anyone call her that since her father was yelling at her to come home, and she was ignoring him, riding away on the back of Kyle’s motorcycle.

“Years.”

Jackson frowned. “How many exactly?”

“Eight or so.” Kyle shrugged, zipping the bag closed. He met Jackson’s gaze. “You?”

“‘Bout three, ever since she an—ah...moved up here. And no, we’re just friends.” He sent Kyle a look that said dating Maxie was robbing the cradle in his eyes. “’Sides. No one gets near Maxine unless she wants it.”

Kyle knew that The woman he’d met today was a shadow of the Maxie he had loved. He insisted he didn’t care if she was cold. He just wanted to fulfill his obligation and get out of here. And avoiding her was his preference.

Kyle took up his mug and sank into the sofa, sipping, his gaze on the window. Maxie was climbing behind the wheel of her Range Rover and driving away.

“You two got a serious history, huh?”

Kyle’s lips tightened. He wasn’t about to let his personal life become the rescue-watch joke of the day. “Just a history. There’s got to be a room available somewhere else...?” He was a backup chopper pilot, nothing more. And if he didn’t have to be here, he for damn sure wouldn’t He looked to Jackson.

“Sorry, no.” Kyle didn’t care for the twinkle in Jackson’s eyes just then. “Now, get your chopper off my triage pad, Hayden. It stays at the Wind Dancer until you’re needed.”

Kyle didn’t like this, yet stood and hefted the duffel full of gear.

“Have fun.”

Kyle glared at Jackson. The man grinned back.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“Probably more if I knew what it was all about—” he shrugged “—but yeah. I haven’t seen any excitement in months. You know, people being cautious. Obeying the rules. Puts me out of a job.”

Kyle couldn’t fight the smile working out from beneath his scowl. “Call if you need me,” he said, holding out his hand. Jackson shook it, and the two men parted.

Kyle took his time and walked outside, shrugging deeper into his jacket and donning his gloves against the cold. The wind whistled softly, but the temperature was dropping. Not any more than when he was near Maxie, he thought, tossing the emergency gear next to his seabag in the chopper, then climbing inside. He stared at the control panel, delaying the inevitable and disgusted with the fates that were screwing with his perfectly ordered life. Checking the dials and his watch, he refitted his sunglasses for the third time before turning over the engine, the blades swiping the air, gaining speed with each turn. Adjusting his radio headset, Kyle waited until he had the ground crewman’s signal, then lifted off, tipping the chopper to the right and heading toward Maxie’s place. He was anxious and if he had to admit it, fearful. It was too much like Iraq, flying into a hot landing zone. But Kyle had an idea that living under the same roof with the only woman he’d ever wanted to marry would be like living under enemy gunfire. With him unarmed.

A half hour later, Maxie watched his approach from the steps of her front porch. His helicopter was black with a sunrise painted on the side in bright red, orange and metallic gold. His name was stenciled below the pilot’s window. Before he was close enough to set the chopper down, she stepped off the porch, walking toward the flattened ground several hundred yards beyond the main buildings. Dread moved through her with every step, and she tipped her cowboy hat low on her forehead and tried to appear as relaxed as possible. But her insides were twisting in tight knots, nauseating her.