Ring of Fire (14 page)

She stuck out her tongue. “I didn't hitchhike. I had enough for bus fare.”

“Good.” Relieved, he asked, “So, what do you need? Do you want to go back to Calgary? I can loan you bus fare to get there, and front you enough for a couple months' rent.” Wryly, he added, “I'll just put it on your tab.” In some token effort to impress upon her the notion of accountability, he kept up the pretense that he was loaning rather than giving her money, and expected to be repaid one day.

Shadows darkened her gray eyes. “I like Calgary, but it's too small. I'd run into Jonas.”

Eric wasn't big on discussing emotions, but he hated to see his sister hurting. “You really cared about the guy?”

She tipped her shoulders and tilted her head in something that was partly a shrug and partly a nod. “Yeah, I guess.”

“The breakup wasn't your idea?”

“It was.” She lifted her wineglass. “But only because—” The rest of her words were muffled as she put the glass to her lips and drank.

He could let it go. It wasn't his business. Except it was. Quinn was his business. “Only because what, Q?”

She blinked and then gazed at him, her eyes wide and sad. “He hit me,” she said quietly.

“Shit! The bastard.” Eric wanted to kill him.

She did that shrug-nod thing again. “We were out with friends, at a club. Drinking, dancing. Jonas was drinking a lot, and he started dancing with this other girl. Like, really suggestive dancing, you know? Like fucking on the dance floor? He was . . .” She glanced down, into the glass that she rotated between her fingers. “He had a hard-on. For her.”

Eric's jaw was tight, his teeth clenched.

“When we got home, I told him I didn't like him behaving that way.” Her gaze flicked up again. “We'd said we were exclusive. He shouldn't have acted like that.”

“No. He shouldn't have disrespected you that way.”

“He didn't like me saying it. He slapped me across the face and called me . . . well, a nasty name.”

“Shit, Q. I'm sorry.” She sure had a knack for picking losers.

“I slept—well, didn't sleep at all—on the couch that night. I thought maybe it was all just because he'd had too much to drink, and once he sobered up he'd apologize. But the next morning, he didn't say he was sorry. And I realized that he didn't give a shit about me. Not really. Not the way I cared about him. So I packed my stuff and left.”

“Aw, sis.” He touched her hand. She should've left the moment the bastard hit her, but at least she'd had the sense to do it the next day. It terrified him to think that, had the asshole apologized, she might actually have stuck around.

He was about to ask her again what she wanted to do next, when she slumped in her chair, looking exhausted all of a sudden. So he instead said, “Have you had any sleep in the past couple of days?”

“A little, on the bus, but not really.”

“Why don't you go climb into bed?” His bed even had fresh sheets, which he'd put on this morning in anticipation of being with Lark. “We'll talk some more in the morning.”

“Thanks, E.” She dragged herself to her feet, started to leave the kitchen, and then turned back. “Wait a minute. This is a one-bedroom apartment. I looked around when I came in.”

“Yeah. I'll sleep on the couch.”

She shook her head. “That's not right, not with your leg. You should have the bed.”

“Believe me, the next time I go overseas I'll be sleeping on a lot worse than that couch.”

Her lips pressed together. “You really still want to be a soldier?”

“Q, it's all I've ever wanted. It's who I am.”

She cocked her head, staring at him. “I happen to think you're also a mighty fine big brother.” Moisture hazed her eyes. “And I'd rather my big brother was alive, not dead. But that's just me.” She blinked, turned again, and walked out of the kitchen, saying over her shoulder, “I'm sleeping on the couch. End of story. Let me do something nice for you, just for once.”

Well, huh. Maybe he could live with that. As he picked up her untouched apple to put it back in the fridge, he called, “Spare sheets are in the hall closet.”

“Got it,” she called back.

* * *

“Is that Eric's sister?” Jayden asked as Lark drove the minivan into the parking lot at Ryland Riding.

Eric was talking to Sally and a younger woman who had pink streaks in her dark hair. “I don't know. Could be.” This morning, Lark had told her mom and Jayden that Quinn was visiting Eric, and they had decided to invite the siblings for dinner.

Lark went around to open the side door of the van and lower the ramp as Jayden pushed the button to unlock his wheelchair from the frame holding it in place. He maneuvered backward, sideways, and down the ramp to ground level. Now a pro at scooting the chair across the rough surface of the parking lot, he headed toward the threesome, and Lark followed.

As they approached the group, Eric looked up and their gazes locked for a long minute. She read a rueful apology in his eyes and gave him a grin and a shrug. Yeah, she'd been disappointed that they couldn't get together last night, but they'd have more opportunities. She'd make sure of it. Now that she'd gotten up close and personal with that fine body, not to mention his lovemaking skills, she definitely wanted more.

“Lark, Jayden,” Eric said, “this is my sister, Quinn Weaver. Quinn, this is Lark Cantrell and her son, Jayden, my fellow student.”

They all murmured hellos and exchanged appraising glances. The sister and brother had the same dark brown hair and gray eyes. In style, though, Quinn was the opposite of Eric, with the pink streaks in her hair, the dramatic eye makeup, the dangly feather earrings, and the sequined dragonfly tee she wore with skintight jeans and a turquoise fleece jacket.

Sally addressed Lark. “Quinn was just saying that she'd like to go riding. I told her that we'll be starting with a lesson in the ring, and that's just for Jayden and Eric. But then, at least if the rain holds off”—she cast a glance at the overcast sky—“we'll have a trail ride. What do you think about having Quinn come along, Lark?”

“I've ridden before,” Quinn said quickly. “Sally says you'll only be walking, and that's fine with me. It would just be cool to see some of the countryside.”

“If it's a problem,” Eric said, “don't think twice about saying no, Lark. Jayden's the top priority here.”

“Mom,” her son said, “let her come. She's pretty. I like her hair.”

Quinn did a mock curtsy. “Thanks, Jayden. I like your sweatshirt.”

“My granny made it. Isn't it cool?” The sand-colored top had wild horses silkscreened on it in shades of black and brown.

“Very cool. Your granny's a fine artist. I'd sure like to have a sweatshirt like that.”

Sally said, “I'm impressed, too. Ben and I will have to talk to Mary about whether she might do a couple of designs for Traynor Rodeo School. Maybe design our logo. But right now, we need to get going. I have a lesson after yours, so I need to keep on schedule. Lark, what do you think?”

“I'm fine with Quinn joining us for the trail ride.”

They all trooped into the barn, where Pookie and Celebration waited in cross ties. Corrie came out of the tack room to greet them, and Sally asked her to bring in a horse for Quinn.

Lark and Sally helped Jayden get Pookie ready. Though Jayden wasn't completely steady on his feet, he managed pretty well when he used the placid little mare for support. Lark loved seeing the pride he took in the task and the comfortable, affectionate way he related to the horse.

Eric worked on Celebration and, when Corrie reappeared with a black horse, she and Quinn got the horse ready. Outside, Quinn tied the black horse to a hitching rail and everyone went to the smaller ring. Quinn took a seat in the stand of wooden bleachers, and Sally said, “Lark, you can watch, too. I don't think we'll need side walkers today.”

After a few warm-up exercises, Sally had Jayden and Eric ride figure eights and serpentines through several cones placed on the ground. Lark was proud to see Jayden manage the exercises perfectly. When the lesson finished, Quinn clapped and called, “Good job, guys,” and Lark added her own applause.

Sally then had Quinn mount the black horse and made sure she did indeed know what she was doing, and then they all headed out on the trail. Jayden was making steady improvement and Lark looked forward to the day when he'd be strong and capable enough that Sally was ready to dispense with side walkers on these trail rides. All this time around horses was making her keen to be on horseback herself, rather than on the ground. Still, a walk in the country—a leisurely one, since her own natural stride was actually faster than the pace Sally kept the group at—was relaxing.

Lark looked for a chance to speak to Eric alone, but that didn't seem to be in the cards. Even when the riders dismounted, partly for practice and partly to give Jayden a break, Quinn claimed her brother. Jayden was talking to Sally about barrel racing; Corrie was checking the saddle cinches. Deciding it was the perfect opportunity to invite the siblings for dinner, Lark strolled over to where Quinn and Eric sat on a large tree stump with their backs to her.

Quinn was speaking quietly, but her clear voice carried to Lark. “Yeah, I'm having fun. And I'm sure seeing a new side of you, E.”

“How d'you mean?”

“Well, Jayden's a cool kid and all, but slow gear's not like you. I'd have thought after a couple weeks of lessons, you'd want to be learning how to steer wrestle or something like that.”

Though eavesdropping was rude, Lark was curious to hear his response.

He gave a snort of laughter. “Okay, I admit it. I like Jayden a lot, but after the first couple of lessons, I did ask my rehab team if I shouldn't be doing something more challenging. They're adamant that this is the best thing for me.”

“Huh. Well, I can see that those exercises you were doing in the saddle, all the bending and stretching stuff, would be good for your balance and flexibility. But I don't really get how it's helping you to walk a horse along a dirt road.” She bumped her shoulder against his. “Now if the goal is to make you less Type A, this is either going to work or drive you batshit crazy because that Type A thing's almost as ingrained in you as in Dad.”

“If you meant that as an insult, Q, it didn't work. There's nothing wrong with being goal-oriented.” He bumped her back. “You might give it a try one day.”

“Ouch.” She tipped her head to lean it against his shoulder. “But you know, on the subject of goals, I really feel for you, E. Who'd have ever guessed it'd take this long for your injuries to heal and for you to get all functional with the new leg?”

“Yeah, I know. It's frustrating.”

It seemed that Eric still had no intention of telling his sister about the PTSD that was the real reason he wasn't back in uniform.

Lark guessed that the tough soldier hated confessing to that kind of weakness. He'd opened up to her about it, but probably only because a flashback had given him away. Besides, with his mom and sister, there was the added factor that the information would upset them and he was protective of them. Maybe that protectiveness was natural, after being told as a little boy that he needed to be the man of the house while his father was away. But, as Eric had reminded her regarding Jayden, you didn't do a person any favors by overprotecting them. Still, this was Eric and his sister's business, not hers. Lark moved forward, saying, “Hey, you two.”

They both swung around and she was gratified to see Eric's face light with pleasure.

“My mother, Jayden, and I wondered if you'd like to come over for dinner. Tonight, if that works. Or, since you haven't had much time to spend alone together, basically any night would be fine with us.”

“Oh, E and I will have loads of time together,” Quinn said blithely. “I'm planning to be around for a while. Let's do it tonight. That would be cool.”

Lark glanced at Eric, who gave the hint of an apologetic shrug before saying, “Tonight would be great. And yes, Quinn told me over breakfast that she doesn't know what she wants to do next, so she may hang around Caribou Crossing for a while.”

“Oh.” And when would Lark and Eric ever find a moment of privacy? “I'm sure that'll be nice for both of you.”

“Right.” His lips twisted ruefully, and she knew that, as much as he might enjoy seeing his sister, he, too, regretted the way her visit was going to cramp his and Lark's style.

Well, Lark was resourceful. Where there was a will, there was a way. And she definitely had the will. One evening of sex with Eric Weaver was nowhere near enough.

Chapter Ten

Quinn fit in well, Lark thought during Sunday dinner. Eric's sister had complimented Mary on Jayden's sweatshirt, prepared a delicious barbecue sauce for the steaks that Eric cooked, asked intelligent questions about Lark's work, and treated Jayden with respect when he offered his own comments.

As they were digging into Lark's apple crumble, Mary asked how long Quinn planned to stay in Caribou Crossing.

Quinn ran a hand through her pink-streaked hair. “I don't know. Maybe I'll look for work. I mean, it's as good as any other place, right? Well, it's better because Eric's here.”

“Don't you have a home and job to get back to?” Mary asked.

“No. No apartment, no job, no ties back in Calgary.” She shrugged and glanced at Eric. The two of them were seated side by side, across the table from Jayden. “No ties anywhere, right? That's how we grew up and it stuck, for both of us.”

“Yeah, except that I go where the army sends me, and you can pick anywhere you want.”

“And I do. I just, you know, haven't had much reason to stay anywhere for very long.”

“If you'd get a real job,” Eric commented, “you'd have a reason to settle down.”

“Whatever.” Quinn put her spoon down, her bowl of crumble finished.

Lark suppressed a grin. It was enlightening seeing Eric in a big brother role. His and Quinn's obvious affection for each other certainly didn't detract from his attractiveness. It was hard to imagine anything that would detract from Eric's appeal. Now that Lark knew what lay under his long-sleeved shirt and jeans, now that she'd experienced his lovemaking firsthand, her body itched with the desire to get naked with him.

Quinn spoke again. “If I found something I loved doing, I'd probably stick with it. But so far, I've done a bunch of things that are okay but not really special.” She glanced at Lark. “You love being a firefighter, don't you?” When Lark nodded, Quinn said, “I can tell from how you talk about it. And Mary loves creating art. That's what I want. Something I love doing.”

“Like Eric and the army,” Jayden said.

Quinn tilted her head and studied her brother. “I dunno about that. D'you love it, E?”

“Sure. It's who I am.”

Eric, seated to Lark's right, was close enough that if she moved her foot a few inches, she could rub it against his. And yet, in this company, with this conversation, it didn't seem right to initiate that kind of semi-intimate contact.

“Yeah,” Quinn said dryly, “like Dad ever gave you any choice. But you don't talk about it the way Lark and Mary talk about their work.”

“It doesn't make for pleasant dinner conversation,” he said evenly. “Dad didn't talk about it either.”

“No, but he doesn't love it,” his sister said. “He doesn't love anything.”

“Quinn,” Eric said sharply.

She waved a hand. “Okay, okay. He loves Mom and he loves us. In his fashion. But he's not, like, passionate. Devoted. Excited. It's not the way Lark loves Jayden and her mom, or the way she loves her work.”

Lark listened, frowning a little. If the young woman was right, Lark felt sad for the whole Weaver family.

Quinn went on, “And I think you're like Dad, E. You're one hundred percent committed and responsible, but the army doesn't . . .” She paused, reflected, then said, “It doesn't give you joy. Things you truly love should give you joy.” She glanced at Lark. “Don't you think?”

“I guess I do,” Lark said slowly. “Of course firefighting has some tough times. But there's exhilaration in whipping down the streets with the siren blaring, excitement and challenge in using your wits and strength in a tough situation, and yes, pure joy when you save someone, or even their beloved pet. Being a firefighter involves rigorous training, hours of boredom, high-adrenaline fun, and soul-deep joy.” She bit her lip. “And of course there's sorrow and grief when things don't go right.”

She gazed at Eric. Was that how he felt about being a soldier? He had certainly experienced grief and sorrow, but had he also felt joy?

A frown tugged at his forehead. Well, no wonder. The man had been blown up and he'd lost a leg. He'd also lost a man he hadn't been able to save, and no doubt had seen many other fellow soldiers die. Probably he'd killed people, too.

Thoughtfully, Lark said, “You know, a lot of kids go through a stage where they want to be firefighters.”

“Like me!” Jayden said. “But it's not just a stage.”

Now wasn't the time to talk about whether he'd be physically capable of fulfilling that dream. “It's true that for some, it's not just a stage. The kids grow up and do go into firefighting, either as full time personnel or as volunteers. And then they find out what it's really like. Some simply aren't cut out for it—whether it's the boredom part or the, uh, challenge part.” Jayden was smart enough to have a pretty good sense what her job entailed, but there was no need to use a word like
dangerous
around him, nor to focus on the pain and anger they experienced when they couldn't save someone.

“For some,” Lark went on, “the crazy hours are a problem. The job takes you away from family and friends, especially in a town like this where we all, paid personnel and volunteers, are pretty much on call 24/7. It makes it hard to plan anything. You need a good support system at home, like I have with Mom and Jayden. We're a team. Not everyone has that.”

Jayden, seated on her left, listening attentively, said, “And some firefighters get really sad when someone gets hurt, don't they, Mom?”

She reached over to squeeze his fragile shoulder. “Yes, Jayden, they do. We're in this line of work because we want to help people, and when we can't do it, we feel bad.” Some firefighters suffered from post-traumatic stress. Some took to drink or drugs.

Releasing her son's shoulder, she glanced briefly at Eric. Did his PTSD stem, at least in part, from grief and guilt over his sergeant's death? His face was stony, giving nothing away. She went on, “Not everyone wants a job where they feel bad sometimes. Some can only take it for so long before they need to make a change.” Deliberately not looking at Eric now, she added, “And there's no shame in that.”

“I'm a wimp that way,” Quinn said. “I worked at an animal shelter once. Nothing really bad ever happened to the animals,” she added quickly, no doubt thinking of Jayden. “But some got adopted into good families where they'd be loved, and others didn't. The shelter wasn't horrible at all, but it sure wasn't like going to a home where people wanted a dog or cat to love. Prospective adopters would come through and look at all the animals, and decide which one they wanted. And some just never got chosen. Because they weren't cute enough. Or they were too old, or they had behavior problems or health problems. It broke my heart.”

Jayden said, “I'm really lucky I had Mom, because no one would have adopted me.”

Lark was about to reassure him when Quinn spoke up. “Oh, kid, that's
so
not true. You're cute and smart. People would jump all over themselves to take you home.”

“You bet they would,” Eric agreed. “Hey, if I was ever going to have a son, I'd want him to be just like you.”

Lark blinked against a quick rush of moisture in her eyes as, in that moment, Eric won a piece of her heart. But that was crazy, because he was a friend and a hookup, and she didn't want to give her heart to any man, ever again.

“Then you should marry Mom,” Jayden announced triumphantly.

Lark almost laughed at the dumbstruck look on Eric's face. Clearly, he hadn't thought things through before speaking.

“Yeah, E.” Quinn's gray eyes, so like Eric's beneath the heavy makeup, gleamed with mischief. “Why don't you marry Lark? Not only is she great, but you'd get this terrific kid and fabulous mother-in-law as part of the deal.”

“Quinn.” Eric's tone held warning, maybe even a threat. “That's enough.”

Lark jumped in. “Eric doesn't want to get married, Jayden.” She tossed her own warning look at Quinn. “Which is something I'd think you would know very well.”

“Sorry.” Quinn did look abashed. “I was just teasing. It's a little sister thing, taking any opportunity to pick on my brother. But I was wrong, and I shouldn't have.”

Jayden frowned at Quinn, Lark, and then Eric. “So you're not going to get married?”

Mary, seated across from Lark, made a sound, maybe stifled laughter, maybe a snort, but she didn't speak.

Lark took Jayden's chin in her hand and held it firmly as she stared into his eyes. “I've told you over and over that I'm not going to get married again.”

His shoulders slumped. “I thought you might change your mind.”

She sighed. Would he ever believe her? “That's not going to happen, sweetheart.” She mouthed “posture” and he pushed his shoulders back, but his lower lip stuck out in a pout.

“Just like me.” Mary finally spoke. “Some people are better off not being married.”

“Yeah,” Quinn said, “I believe you. But I'm not one of them. I want to be married and have kids, and I want to do it right.” There was conviction in her voice.

Eric had told Lark a bit about his family, and his and Quinn's childhood. How interesting that he'd turned out to be Type A and goal-oriented like his father, but determined not to get married or have kids, while Quinn wanted a family and a job she loved, but apparently hadn't made much progress toward achieving either. Did their different responses to a similar background have to do with him being male and her female, was it more due to birth order, or was it simply that they had quite different personalities?

Mary stood. “Dishes.”

Jayden promptly said, “Quinn, do you like fire trucks?”

“You bet. Who doesn't like fire trucks? Do you have some?”

“LEGO ones. They're cool. Want to go play?”

“You bet. But”—she glanced at Mary—“how about after we do the dishes?”

Mary's lips curved in a small smile. “Thank you for the offer, Quinn. It's nice to know that
someone
has good manners.” She sent a steely gaze in Jayden's direction.

“When I was a kid,” Quinn said, “Eric and I did the dishes. Mom shopped and cooked. Division of labor. It was all about being a team and division of labor, wasn't it, E?”

“Sure was.” He grinned at Mary. “And I'm happy to do the dishes.”

Mary glanced at Lark, silently asking whether she wanted a chance to be alone with Eric.

Lark had told her mom she was sleeping with Eric—or, at least, had done it once and planned to again. Mary had been quiet for several minutes, and then said, “You know who you are and you know what you want. He's a good man.”

What Lark wanted now was to have some private time with that man. “Okay, I think we'll excuse Jayden and Quinn this time around. Eric and I will do the dishes.”

A few minutes later, he was clearing the table as she rinsed plates. They were alone, and he said quietly, “I'm sorry about last night.”

She turned off the water and faced him. “Me, too. But I'm glad you have a chance to spend time with your sister.” She'd worried about how alone he was, how detached from his family, at a time when he needed all the support he could get. From what she'd seen of Quinn today, she sensed that the young woman, however disorganized she might be about her own life, was capable of providing support. If only Eric had the sense, and courage, to ask for it.

“It's good to see her,” he said. “But if she stays for more than a couple days, I'm kicking her out and finding her an apartment of her own.” The gleam in his eyes made it very clear what he was thinking about.

Too bad Lark couldn't invite him to her bedroom, but that wasn't going to happen. After glancing toward the open door into the hall, she took a step forward so she wasn't quite touching him but could feel the energy he gave off. “I'm not the easiest woman to be with, am I? You could find a lover who has a place of her own, no kids, a more flexible schedule.” That would sure make more sense for him, and yes, she was testing for something, though she wasn't quite sure why. Their private relationship was only about sex, so why should she have hurt feelings if he chose a woman who was more available?

Still, she felt a rush of warmth when he cupped her cheek and said, “I don't want ‘a lover.' I want you, Lark.”

“And I want you,” she breathed, longing to kiss him.

Jayden's and Quinn's voices carried in from the family room. Mary would be in her room, either reading, e-mailing with friends, or working on one of her art projects. As much as she loved her daughter and grandson, she was a woman who needed time to herself.

Lark reached up a hand, snagged the back of Eric's head, and tilted his face down to hers. Kissing a man in her kitchen, with her family just outside the room. A first, and maybe not a wise idea, but she couldn't resist.

When she brushed her lips against his, she intended a quick, casual kiss. A reminder, a promise, a tease. An incentive to somehow find a way of getting their own private time. But Eric's mouth was so irresistible, firm and masculine, tasting of apples and spice. When the tip of his tongue teased the join of her lips, of course she opened for him. When his tongue invaded her mouth, of course she caught it and sucked it. And when he gave a muffled groan, she couldn't stop herself from taking that final step and pressing her body against his. His arms came around her, hard, and she was lost. Her pager could have gone off and she wouldn't have heard it.