Hot Shot Read online

  That entire time I watched the Coke bottle make the rounds, past my friends and classmates, all I could pray for was please, please, please let it land on me. Let it be me. Let Fox be my first kiss.

  And…it did.

  The bottle stopped right in front of me, pointing directly at me like a big flashing arrow.

  I couldn’t even play it cool. I was already grinning like a dumb idiot.

  Fox, on the other hand, looked immensely bothered by this. So much so that without even a glance at me, he reached over and spun it around again before getting to his feet and saying, “This is stupid.”

  Everyone rolled their eyes but didn’t say anything because it was a miracle that Fox agreed to play spin the bottle anyway. He was even more quiet, moody and irritable back then than he is now.

  So Fox walked away, and I was left sitting there with my legs tucked under me, feeling the weight of the world crush my chest. I laughed it off, of course, telling everyone it would have been so gross because he was like a brother.

  But even though I’d known Fox since I was six years old, he was never that to me. His brothers Shane and Maverick (real name John) were but Fox had carved a fathomless place in my heart from the very beginning.

  Loving Fox is all I’ve ever known.

  “As long as he’s happy,” I eventually say to them. I force another smile and then look up at the sun. “It’s getting hot, maybe we should head back.”

  Rachel gives me a small nod while I can tell Riley is fighting hard not to roll her eyes. Riley only moved to our small town of North Ridge earlier this year, and while she quickly became part of our girl gang (especially since moving in with her boyfriend Maverick), she has a hard time keeping her mouth shut about some things. Mainly, Fox’s and my relationship, which she says is rife with unresolved sexual tension or UST as she often says (“There was so much UST at the bar last night, you should just bang him and get it over with”).

  Rachel, on the other hand, is quieter and has been through so much in her life and with Shane, that she understands. She was there with me and Fox, growing up right alongside us.

  Because of that, you’d think I would have admitted to her at some point how I feel about him, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I guess I’m hoping that the feelings will go away. They have to, right? Either that or I’ll continue to live with it and deal with it. And by dealing with it, I mean pretending it doesn’t exist. Feelings with a capital F.

  It’s not like I’ve pined away for him locked in my room either. I’ve dated. I’ve tried to fall in love. I was even engaged to a lovely man for a while, Robert, another former friend from high school. But as much as I loved Robert, I knew that marrying him would be a huge mistake and completely unfair to him. For as good, calm, kind, and patient as he was, he wasn’t enough for me. The world is too big, this life too short, to want anything less than magic with someone.

  Even though it was my idea to head back to the ranch, I lag behind, with Riley and Rachel ahead of me. When Sugar tries to eat the dry grass, I don’t rip her head up and let her have a few mouthfuls instead. If Shane could see me now, or his father Hank, they’d give me a talking-to about spoiling the horse.

  It’s a gorgeous day and I take a moment to tilt my head back to the wide blue sky. Summer is in full swing, which in North Ridge is both a beautiful and dangerous time. Each year the summers get drier and hotter, increasing the risk of forest fires. Even though the town is located in the mid-south of British Columbia, near the Washington and Idaho border, the weather can be shockingly hot compared to the rest of Canada.

  As such, the fire season gets increasingly longer and more intense, which means Fox’s life is more and more in danger. He works from May to October as a wildland firefighter or “hot shot,” one of those crazy and beautifully brave people who head out to be smack in the middle of raging forest fires. He’s getting busier and busier, the job getting riskier and riskier. I try not to worry—he’s been doing this for so long, I should be used to it—but I can’t help it.

  I’ve barely seen him lately either. Usually he’s gone for at least two weeks at a time with a week off here and there and during those days and weeks off, we’ll be hanging out, maybe at the ranch, often at the bar. But not since he last got back. He hasn’t even texted me, which is odd.

  I have a feeling it has something to do with his girlfriend.

  God, I can barely stomach the word.

  When we get back to the ranch, my ponytail sticking to the back of my neck, the horses coated with a sheen of sweat, we get their tack off their backs and take turns hosing them down outside the barn before we turn them loose.

  Though I grew up on the ranch and have been riding since I was seven years old, and Rachel is now a bonafide cowgirl after getting engaged to Shane, Riley is still getting used to the whole horseback riding thing. The horse she rode, Apple Jack, is about as sweet and docile as can be and yet she’s throwing her ears back and giving Riley side-eye (though “side-eye” is pretty much the only eye horses can give) until somehow Riley ends up being more soaked from the hose than the horse is.

  “Of course Riley manages to turn this into a wet T-shirt competition,” Shane’s voice comes from behind us.

  We look to the barn to see him sauntering over, a faint flush of red on his tanned cheeks. The thing about Riley is that, yes, she does happen to be wearing a very wet white T-shirt right now, but she’s also a megababe with her long limbs, big boobs, long blonde hair and blue bedroom eyes. Every guy that gets within twenty feet of her immediately starts drooling.

  Shane being Shane though, tries his hardest to hide it, especially around Rachel. Rachel is equally as beautiful, the Veronica to Riley’s Betty, and rarely has any insecurities with Shane. I mean, the man is so hopelessly in love and devoted to her, like he’s been his whole life. If I didn’t adore the two of them like family, I’m pretty sure I’d be lime green with jealousy.

  Riley rolls her eyes. “Good thing Mav isn’t here.”

  “Mav?” Shane asks with a grin, tugging on the brim of his cowboy cap. “He’s nothing but a pussy cat. He working today?”

  She sighs and wrings out the end of her shirt while giving Apple Jack a dirty look. “If I’m here, he’s working. If he’s here, I’m working. I’m telling you, having the same job sometimes fucking sucks.”

  “Yeah but you get to see each other all the time otherwise,” I remind her. “You should try my job. I just see the same damn drunks day in and day out.”

  “You mean us,” Shane says, walking over to Rachel and pulling her into a hug, placing a quick kiss on the top of her head.

  “Do I?” I say wryly. “Because lately it’s just been me, Old Timer Joe and his denture-less gal pal, my high school gym teacher who nurses his beer and sits alone in the corner crying, and a bunch of college freshmen from the city who have claimed North Ridge as some sort of craft beer haven and mountain biking nirvana. Never mind the fact that I don’t serve craft beer.”

  “They’re just trying to get in your pants,” Riley says. “Delilah Does the Mountain Biking Team does have a nice ring to it.”

  “My point is, I barely see any of you guys anymore. The Bear Trap feels so empty without you there.”

  Shane and Rachel exchange a glance. “I guess we have just been so caught up with the wedding,” Rachel says.

  “We’ll come by tonight for a drink,” Shane decides. “Promise.”

  “I’ll see if Maverick can put someone else on call,” Riley offers. “Other than me.” She pauses, a faux-innocent look coming across her big eyes. “Maybe he can convince Fox to come too.”

  With his girlfriend? I finish in my head just as Shane and Rachel look at me with those pitying eyes again.

  I plaster on a smile that feels shaky at the corners. “Great.”

  The half hour or so before I open the bar is definitely my favorite time of the day. It’s just me and the bar, no drunk customers, no eyeing the tip jar and wishing for more, no getti
ng trapped for hours talking to the same annoying person who won’t get the hint.

  It’s a quiet time too. I don’t play any music—lord knows I get enough of that with the jukebox later—I just enjoy the stillness and the silence, save for the small hum from the refrigerator. I’ve worked as a bartender here since I was twenty-years old, managed to save up and buy it from the old owner, Dwight, a few years ago and it’s been mine ever since. Even though it’s not the nicest bar in town or the hippest, it’s the most authentic. It feels like a second-home to me and I take a great amount of pride in it.

  As part of my pre-opening ritual, I polish all the wood on the booths and wipe down the chairs, bar stools, and tables. I disinfect the seats, vacuum any extra crumbs or dust. I run a dusting brush over the walls, over the paintings of bears done by local artists, the dartboard, and the neon signs I’ve scooped up from eBay and Craigslist.

  Then I artfully scatter peanut shells on the floor. I know that seems especially redundant after all the cleaning I just did, but this is what the pub is famous for—a warm environment for the locals to drink and a place to eat peanuts served out of small copper bowls with the tradition of tossing the shells onto the floor. Of course, over time the shells get stepped on and gross so I’m always putting a fresh layer on.

  I sigh when I lean against the bar and take it all in, the bright sun streaming in through the windows, illuminating the stray dust motes in the air. As much as I love running the bar, being my own boss, and having my own business, I’ve started wondering if it’s what I’m going to be doing for the rest of my life. I’m thirty-two years old and I know I have a good thing going on here, but some days my mind wanders. There’s a restlessness in me that keeps growing, carving out a hollow space and I have no idea how to fill it.

  I think about a life beyond North Ridge. Growing up I was never one of those girls who wanted to shuck the small town life behind and leave for the big cities like Vancouver or Calgary. That’s what Rachel did. That’s what a lot of girls I knew did. They left for university with their big dreams of a career and husbands and kids and ended up living interesting lives elsewhere, only coming back to the town around Christmas time, usually with their new families in tow.

  For me, I guess I was just happy living in this town. I was born here and though my dad left when I was just a baby and I was raised by my mother alone, who would later become the nanny to all the Nelson boys, I had a relatively happy childhood. Maybe it’s because I grew up on the ranch and even though Hank Nelson isn’t exactly the fatherly type, he was still a father figure in my life and Shane, Maverick, and Fox became my family.

  Or maybe it’s because Fox is here. Maybe it’s him that’s always held me to this town like an elastic band. No matter what I think or do, I’m always snapping back to him.

  But as much as I don’t want to think about it, what happens when he finally finds someone else? I’ve seen girlfriends come and go out of his life and it’s never really affected me. Maybe because I knew they wouldn’t last long—it’s hard to be in a relationship with someone when he’s gone for most of the year fighting fires. Either way, it was easy to just pretend they didn’t exist and I continued on in my friendship with Fox like they just didn’t matter. Because they didn’t. Not to him.

  Now though, I feel a change. Maybe it’s because I haven’t seen him since he’s been back. Maybe it’s because he’s with someone new and while I haven’t met her yet and have no reason to think anything more of it, I feel like things could be getting serious. Fox is the same age as me and the older the both of us get, the more likely that he’s going to eventually settle down with someone.

  Someone that isn’t me.

  A knock at the door snaps me out of my depressing daydream with a jolt. I quickly glance at the clock on the wall. Six p.m. Right on the dot.

  I give the bar a once over and then head to the door, flicking on the neon OPEN sign in the window before unlocking the door.

  “I thought maybe you forgot about me,” Old Joe says, holding his cowboy hat between his fingers and giving me a toothless grin.

  “You? Never,” I tell him, opening the door wider.

  Old Joe has been here since the dawn of time and if he’s ever not here at six p.m., I start to worry. The bar is closed on Sundays so I can have a day off, and I have no idea where he goes or what he does then.

  He’s also a pain in the ass, sometimes smoking inside or forgetting to pay for drinks, but at least the old dude keeps me on my toes.

  “You’re looking sad today, what’s wrong?” he asks as he shuffles inside, throwing a glance over his shoulder at me before taking his place at his usual booth. I swear there’s an indent from his ass in the cushion.

  “I’m fine,” I tell him with a big smile that’s purely for show as I go behind the bar and get him his glass of whisky on the rocks. He likes to start his day off with that before moving on to beer.

  “You always say you’re fine, muffin,” he says. “Sometimes I wonder how that can be true.”

  I roll my eyes and scoff as I bring the drink over to his table and plunk it down. “Hey, it’s a gorgeous summer night. I’m here, you’re here. It can’t get much better than this.”

  He narrows his eyes at me suspiciously as he takes a sip of his drink. Then he visibly relaxes and shrugs. “You’re right. Can’t get much better than this.” He pauses and looks at me with puppy dog eyes. “Maybe if I had a cigarette.”

  “If you go outside to smoke, you can have one,” I tell him before heading back to the bar.

  “Doctor says I need to cut back on cigarettes. It was either that or drinking.”

  “He gave you a choice?” I ask just as the door opens and Finn, Ted, and another regular come in.

  Joe shrugs again. “Hell, I can’t quit both.”

  The bar is mostly empty with a handful of the regulars until about eight o’ clock when most people decide to show up for the evening, including the damn mountain biking squad that won’t stop hitting on me. I go along with it, of course, because the more I do, the better they tip, and I could use a new refrigerator.

  The entire time though, I’m waiting for either Shane and Rachel or Riley and Maverick to show up. I’m also wondering if Fox will, and if he does, if Julie will come.

  It’s about nine when the door opens and before I even glance over at it, my heart is in my throat.

  It’s Fox.

  Alone.

  My breath hitches in my chest as he shoots me a smile that seems to paralyze me from the inside out.

  I haven’t seen him for over two weeks and though that doesn’t seem like a long time, every time he returns I feel like I’m seeing him with new eyes. It’s like I fall for him all over again.

  And how can I not? Fox is tall, about six-one which is good since I’m five-ten, has a lean, muscled body and is in super-human shape thanks to the strenuous physical demands of his job, and has the most gorgeous face I’ve ever laid eyes on. Square masculine chin and jaw, usually accented by a dark beard or large amount of scruff, brooding green eyes that are beautiful whether they are full of rage or sincerity, and full lips I’ve hopelessly dreamed about kissing.

  Tonight he heads straight over to me, his magnetic eyes locked on mine and I give him a wide grin in return. I can never play it cool around him, even if I try.

  “Hey,” he says to me, as he places his large hands along the edge of the bar and leans in slightly, his eyes searching my face. “How are you?”

  Am I nervous? Damn it. I’m actually nervous around him. This is new.

  “Good,” I tell him, trying to keep my eyes on his face and not on his arms and chest which are straining against a tight black T-shirt, showing off his tan. “I was wondering when you might show up. I heard you’ve been in town for a few days.”

  I keep smiling as I say that, not wanting him to think I’m bothered by it. I’m not even sure why I brought it up at all but my mouth just wants to babble on about something to fill the space between
us.

  He scratches at his beard and gives me an adorably sheepish look. “Yeah, sorry. I’ve just been busy. Took a few days to recover, that was a pretty wild one.”

  “I was watching on the news,” I tell him. “They had to evacuate the whole town.”

  He nods. “It made things a lot of more difficult given that we didn’t have as many men as we should have and we had buildings and houses to protect but somehow we did it.” He pauses, giving me a soft smile that makes my knees feel weak. “I didn’t think you still followed the fires, I told you to not watch that stuff. They always make it seem worse than it is.”

  I shrug. “I just happened to see it.”

  “Right. Well you know I don’t want you worrying about me.”

  “Someone ought to,” I tell him, though it suddenly occurs to me that maybe that’s not my job anymore. Maybe it’s Julie’s.

  Ask him about Julie. Ask him how she is. Ask him when they started dating. Get it over with.

  But I clamp my mouth shut before I have a chance to and bring out a beer from the fridge, sliding it over to him. “Here. It’s your welcome back beer. On the house.”

  He reaches over and takes the beer from me, his finger pressing against mine as he does so, holding on for just a little longer than he normally does. “Thank you,” he says earnestly. “I have to say, I missed this place.”

  I laugh and pull my hand away and start polishing highball glasses with a soft cloth. It’s a thing I do when I’m bored or nervous. There’s certainly nothing in this bar that needs polishing. “You say that like you’ve been gone forever.”

  “It feels like forever sometimes,” he says this with some weight to his rough voice and I glance at him. He’s staring down at his beer bottle, like he’s working through something. This is nothing new—Fox, for all his bravery, is always working through something. Sometimes I think I have an idea. Other times I can only guess. Even though I feel closest to him, there’s still a lot of himself that he keeps in, choosing to wrestle with his inner demons by himself.