Feel the Fire (Hotshots) Page 4

  “Hey! Like that wasn’t you ordering double at lunch.” Wade bumped Walker’s shoulder.

  “Ordering?” Heidi placed water glasses in front of both of them before taking her own seat across from Isaac. “Isn’t the fridge stocked with bread and lunch meat for you guys? I thought you were going to pack lunches?”

  “Oops. Sorry, Mom.”

  “The other guys wanted to go out.” Walker matched Wade’s contrite tone. “And we ate some of that stuff anyway.”

  “Thank goodness you’re your dad’s grocery problem for the rest of the week.” Heidi took a sip of the wine Isaac had already set by her place.

  “Gee. Thanks.” Tucker took the bowl of pasta Isaac passed and helped himself to a reasonable, non-Wade-sized portion. He’d accepted the wine, a rarity for him, but between Luis’s unexpected reappearance and other work stuff and the twins’ exuberance over all things football, he figured he was entitled. “I did a run to the warehouse store in Bend yesterday. I don’t think you guys are going to starve.”

  “Good. Did you get protein powder?” Wade made the same pleading eyes his mother had a wicked talent for.

  “Yes, Hercules, I got you some of that brand Coach recommended.” Tucker was fairly sure that Coach’s sheet of tips for nutrition and strength training hadn’t changed in twenty years, but he wasn’t going to cut into Wade’s enthusiasm for following the advice. “How was practice?”

  “Great. Tons of running.” Walker answered for Wade, who had taken a mammoth bite of broccoli.

  “I worry about you guys out there in the heat.” Heidi delicately plucked a piece of pasta with her fork. She was still in her suit from work, makeup impeccable as always, but the executive persona never stopped her from taking her mom role seriously too. “You drank lots of water, right?”

  “Yes, Mom. What are you gonna do without us to nag next year?” Wade’s eyes sparkled. The last thing Tucker wanted was another reminder of how little time they likely had left before the boys flew the nest. Wade might be counting down the days, but he sure wasn’t.

  “What do you mean? I’m going to have you guys forever.” Heidi was even more in denial than Tucker, but the sharpness in her tone said that she too was feeling the slide of time slipping away. “Doesn’t matter how far away you end up, we’re still going to nag. It’s what parents do.”

  “Yep.” Tucker nodded, keeping his tone pragmatic. He knew from long experience that the more he clung to the boys, the faster they ran. Any nostalgia he had for their younger selves was best kept to himself, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel it. “And you better get as serious about test prep as you are about football if you want to go anywhere.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ve got test prep classes after football all next week. I’m as good as gone. Just gotta see which recruiters come calling.”

  Yup. There it was. Wade already limbering up those wings, ready to fly even if that meant a nosedive toward the ground, fearless as ever. Another year and they’d be weeks away from college move-in dates, and all these hypothetical future plans would be all too real. Wade’s eagerness was, however, an excellent reminder that he couldn’t get hung up on Luis’s unexpected return. The boys had to be his number one priority, this year especially. They needed him fully on his dad game, not muddled and distant like he’d been guilty of prior to the food being served.

  “For me, it’s all about where Mary Anne ends up.” Walker sighed dramatically, glancing down at the phone next to his plate like that might make his girlfriend appear at the table.

  “Smooch. Smooch. Can’t believe you dropped shop to take AP English with her this year.” Wade might be all in on a football scholarship, but academics weren’t his strong suit. Tucker bit back another “partying is not a major” lecture.

  “She’ll help me study,” Walker countered.

  “Uh-huh. Better be safe with studying and—”

  “Little ears,” Isaac said mildly, gesturing at Angelica, who sat between him and Tucker. Isaac was possibly the least flappable person on the planet, and the rare occasions when he spoke up, he tended to get results, as evidenced by both boys nodding.

  “Hey, I’m not that little!” At five, Angelica still had a talent for getting more pasta on her face than in her stomach, but the promise of kindergarten in the fall had her asserting her desire to be one of the big kids at every turn. Her dark eyes mirrored Isaac’s but her pout was pure Heidi.

  “Sure you’re not, squirt.” Walker, like Wade, tended to spoil her, the whole family doting on the little girl. Tucker supposed he was something of an honorary uncle to her royal cuteness. But even so, her presence often made Tucker become more aware of his outsider status—Isaac might be the bonus dad for the boys, but with Angelica at the center, this was a tight five-person family unit. Oh, they were all happy to have Tucker in their orbit, but he never felt truly needed here. Especially now, as the boys got older and all this talk of college dominated dinner conversations, he wondered how much longer this twice-a-week tradition would last.

  Appreciate it while you have it. Soon enough it was going to be him and a stack of frozen meals with the boys off on some new adventure, him not wanting to impose on Heidi and Isaac’s cozy hospitality any more than he had to.

  He wasn’t jealous of their relationship in the typical sense—God knew he’d made peace with his slew of complicated emotions where that was concerned years ago, but he did envy them each other. On the nights he had the boys, they still had plenty of companionship, no painfully quiet rooms or forgetting to eat.

  You could date. Heidi had said it so often that the words echoed in his brain in her persistent tone. But for many, many reasons that wasn’t happening, and that was one more reason to make the most of the limited time they had left with the boys at home. So he tuned out melancholy thoughts about the passage of time as well as the replay of every conversation he’d had with Luis earlier in the day, and focused on the swirl of dinner activity—Angelica talking about day camp, more football stories from the boys, and Heidi weighing in with a funny anecdote from her work as an exec for a solar energy company.

  However, maybe he didn’t do the best job at staying in the moment, because as they were cleaning up, Heidi turned to him. “What’s up with you? You were quiet enough at dinner that I wondered if you’d caught a buzz off the wine, and now you’ve washed that pot three times.”

  “Nothing,” he said quickly. Probably too quickly. He glanced away even as Heidi made a clucking noise. Over in the living area, Isaac was reading Angelica a story while the boys had disappeared to grab backpacks for going to Tucker’s. No one was that strict about which nights they slept where anymore, but they did usually split the week between the two houses.

  “Uh-huh. Tell me another one.” She dried the extra-clean pot for him. Theirs was a comfortable partnership. Isaac cooked. The boys cleared. They cleaned. Even if he did sometimes feel like an outsider, he liked it here, always had. And he and Heidi had far too much history for him to lie to her too long.

  “Work stuff. We got a fire behavior specialist transferred up from California.”

  “And? Are they horning in on your territory already?” She laughed because she knew all too well what a control freak he could be, how he didn’t like sharing jobs he could do fine on his own.

  “It’s Luis Rivera.” He moved on to the next pot, watching the suds swish around instead of waiting for her reaction.

  “No sh—crap?” A piece of silverware clattered to the floor. They both bent to retrieve it at the same time, narrowly missing bumping heads.

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh boy.” Heidi gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “But it’s been what...twenty years. Surely you’ve both moved on. Changed. Grown. No sense in holding a grudge or hurt feelings.”

  “You’d be surprised.” He wished the whole world could have Heidi’s optimism and faith in the
power of positive change. Her impressive résumé was proof of that belief, the way she never stopped striving for self-improvement. And she always had believed in the best of other people, including him, even when he didn’t entirely deserve it.

  “Seriously? He’s still upset?” She shook her head, a few strands of red hair escaping the knot of hair on the top of her head. “You were kids. Younger than the twins are now.”

  “Don’t remind me.” Man, he didn’t want to think about that. The memories didn’t feel that far away, still vivid and real. And they might have been kids, but it had been important. Vital. He’d had plenty of other friendships but nothing that seared his chest quite like Luis had. And his reappearance only intensified those memories, made that time feel that much more poignant and significant.

  “Maybe there’s still something there?” She turned her attention to wiping down the counters as he loaded the dishwasher with the plates and silverware.

  “There is not.” Not likely, at least, the way Luis had been shooting him dark looks all day, like he simply couldn’t believe his rotten luck. “We’re both grown up now. Feelings change, especially when there’s no contact. He’s lived a whole lifetime I have no clue about.”

  And damn it, he was irrationally curious about that life, in a way he had no business being. What did it matter to him if Luis had a partner or spouse, pets, a house, all of that, or how his family was doing? Heck, he might even have kids of his own. Tucker didn’t know, didn’t have any right to know, and that both bugged and intrigued him far more than it should have.

  “But you want to know.”

  “Nope.” His lie was firmer this time, no telltale warmth or wobble to his answer, and Heidi exhaled hard before resuming scrubbing around the stove with extra force.

  “That’s probably the right attitude.” Less teasing now, Heidi sounded more pragmatic, which was good. Last thing he needed was anyone pushing a reconciliation of any type. “No sense in rehashing the past, really. He’s only here a few days?”

  “Weeks, but yes. Not sticking around.” He needed to remember that, tattoo it on his soul. Luis hated it around here, and no matter if they could find their way back to anything resembling a friendship, it was destined to be short-lived.

  “Yeah, no sense in reopening old wounds then. Not like anything could come from it.”

  “True.” Tucker nodded and wrung out the sponge. His back tensed—the tight, uncomfortable feeling that had lingered all day. “But... I still feel guilty. Even after all these years.”

  “Just treat him like any other coworker.”

  “Exactly.” That was the right advice and what he needed to hear. Treat Luis professionally but distantly. No more awkward rehashing of the past. But somehow, he already knew he’d fail because Luis was not simply another coworker. He might be an adult Tucker knew little about, but he was also Luis, the embodiment of all those memories and feelings from so long ago. All the longing and yearning. Tucker wasn’t sure he could figure out how to move forward as if their past didn’t exist, but he needed to try.

  Chapter Four

  “Ready?” Tucker’s easy smile hit Luis square in the chest, made him blink, like that might dim the power it held over him.

  “Sure.” No. Luis was anything but ready for spending the day away from the office alone with Tucker. They’d both attended the morning meeting, then Tucker, who had been strangely courteous since he’d shown up for the day, had been raring to get on the road.

  “Good. I already checked out keys for one of the Jeeps.” Tucker led the way to the parking lot where a line of Forest Service vehicles waited. “Figured I’d drive since I know where we’re headed, but if you’d rather, I can set GPS for you.”

  “You can drive,” Luis said grudgingly because it was only practical. Tucker had a lot more years driving these back roads into the federal lands than he did. Even if ordinarily he preferred to drive himself and hated being a passenger, he didn’t want to start the day by being difficult. This was bound to be awkward enough.

  “Thanks. You want a coffee on our way out of town? There’s a new drive-through place that H—people seem to like. I noticed you didn’t have a chance to use that French press of yours yet this morning.”

  Luis was both strangely appreciative that Tucker had observed his coffee habits already and irritated at his continued attempts to act like he was no different from other coworkers. Which, honestly, should be what he wanted, a chance to play it casual and pretend they had no history. But they did. And the near-namedrop of the ex-wife didn’t escape his notice either, a sign that things weren’t as free and simple as Tucker wanted.

  “Coffee sounds good.” He buckled up while Tucker started the Jeep. “And you can say Heidi’s name around me. Promise I’m not going to pout or throw a tantrum.”

  He was fully aware he hadn’t been at his best the previous day, hadn’t reacted well to Tucker’s pictures of his kids. He could do better, and if Tucker was going to make an effort, then the least he could do was try to act like an adult.

  “Appreciated.” Tucker backed out of the space, the sort of effortless driving that ordinarily would put Luis at ease about being the passenger, not make his pulse hum with fresh awareness. God, the last thing he needed was to get turned on whenever Tucker revealed himself the least bit competent at daily tasks. The flex of his muscled forearm and concentration lines around his eyes should be of exactly zero consequence.

  “Man, it sure is strange to think of Heidi Keating as a mom though,” he admitted, in part to get his brain off the subject of Tucker’s forearms. “Wait. Is it Heidi Ryland these days?”

  “Heidi Arnold now. She remarried after we divorced.”

  “That...” Damn it. He couldn’t get a read on what Tucker thought of that turn of events. “Sorry?”

  “No condolences needed.” Tucker gave a tight nod as he turned onto the main road. “Her husband is a great guy originally from Detroit who works IT for the same solar energy firm she’s an exec for in Bend. They’ve got a little girl. Saw them last night for our twice weekly dinner with the boys.”

  “Wow. You guys need your own blended family sitcom,” Luis teased, trying to keep his voice light, not biting. Heidi happy wasn’t a bad thing. It had been too many years to wish her ill or keep some sort of grudge going. Besides, she too had been a friend way back then, volunteering with him backstage on the school plays, walking him through choir choreography when he’d picked up music as an elective to get out of gym. Because their parents went to the same church, she’d always been more Tucker’s friend than his, but she’d been kind and funny. It wasn’t her fault that she’d won the Tucker sweepstakes.

  “All we need is a nosy neighbor peeking over the hedge and relatives walking in unannounced. We’ve got know-it-all kids and clueless parents covered.”

  Luis had to laugh at that. It made sense that Tucker would still be funny, still have that dry way of delivering a punchline, but the familiar warmth in his gut, that was the unexpected and unwelcome part, the reminder of how that subtle humor always undid him.

  “Unexpected guests happen more with my family. Swear my mom is still happiest when someone turns up for dinner. She keeps the fridge stocked like it’s Easter week all year.”

  “I can believe it. God knows she fed me often enough.”

  “Guess I can always take credit for being your first...” He deliberately drew the pause out until Tucker’s cheeks turned pink. “Tamale.”

  Tucker gave a sputtery cough that said his brain had gone right to kissing. And maybe all the other firsts along the way—Tucker’s first homemade Mexican meal when he’d come for a playdate, then first sleepover, first time camping out in Luis’s backyard, first time at the movies with no adults, first day of high school.

  “I still think about them. The sweet ones especially.”

  It took Luis a minute to figure out
that Tucker meant Mami’s cooking, not the memories, which indeed could be sweet enough to make his teeth ache. “Be jealous. She made several types for my birthday a couple of months back. I was full for days.”

  Tucker pulled into a small hut with a drive-up window. Not a chain place and the signage had a distinctly homemade feel, but the toasty smell of fresh ground coffee beans was promising.

  “Triple shot, extra foam, no sugar, and whatever you’re getting.” He passed Tucker a twenty.

  “You don’t have to pay.”

  “It’s no problem.” Luis tried to tell him with a pointed look that this wasn’t worth arguing over. “Get whatever your regular is.”

  Frowning, Tucker relayed the order to the young barista, adding an iced hazelnut latte in a mumble that made Luis smile.

  “Your health kick is making me feel guilty for my sugar addiction,” Tucker grumbled as the barista turned to make their drinks.

  “You always did love dessert most,” Luis teased before sobering. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to tell Tucker a little of his truth. “My dad died a few years back. Complications from diabetes.”

  “I didn’t know. I’m sorry. He was a good guy.”

  “He was.” They hadn’t always seen eye-to-eye, but that didn’t stop Luis from missing him every day. “Too many years behind a desk for the bank took their toll. Died a little over six months after taking his retirement. I’m not saying I never indulge in sweet stuff anymore, but I’m a lot more careful.”

  That applied to so much in his life beyond sugar—he wasn’t as brash and reckless these days in all areas. And he wasn’t sure what to make of the part of himself that wanted Tucker to see that, to see him as an adult and not some flicker of the kid he’d once been.

  “I can see that. My dad’s heart attack was a similar wakeup call for the whole family. Mom changed how she cooked for his recovery, and I picked up some of that. A lot fewer fries, that’s for sure.”