Rekindled (25 page)

“It’s okay, I wouldn’t have minded. The smell reminds me of you.”

His eyes are closed, and his hands are clasped over his stomach, and I’m grateful that he can’t see me because I’m pretty sure if he looked at me right now the last ounce of resolve I have would flee my body. I finish washing his hair and grab another towel and quickly start to run it over his strands, but he reaches up and takes it from me, cocking his head as he rubs his hair dry. I imagine him doing that right after stepping out of a shower and heat shoots between my thighs.

Jesus, Callie get a grip.

Setting a large towel on the floor beneath the chair, I drape an extra one over his body as a makeshift cloak before I begin snipping away. I move around him, snipping off ends and then taking a step back to assess my work. We don’t speak, but I can feel his eyes on me, stalking me with each move I make. I’ve cut hundreds of people’s hair, and yet this feels different. This feels
intimate.

I step in front of him and slide my sheers across a section of his hair when my knee accidentally knocks into his causing my hand to tremble.

“Sorry,” I whisper, although why it’s coming out a whisper, I have no idea.

He doesn’t respond, but instead places his hand on the side of my thigh, steadying me. All the blood leaves my brain with a heady
whoosh.
I can’t breathe. I can’t think. His hand slowly trails up the back of my leg, up my thigh until it’s resting on my hip, and his thumb gently strokes the skin underneath my t-shirt lighting my skin on fire. Our gazes tangle and all my synapses fire off at once like the finale of a fireworks show, sending electricity shooting to the tips of my fingers and down to my toes. I force myself to look away, to stare down at the small set of sheers I’m clutching in a vice grip, but I can feel Tate’s eyes still on me.

I want to ask him what he’s really doing here. Why he’s here with me instead of at home with his fiancée, but just as I find the words, his hands grip my waist and tug until I’m standing in between his legs, close enough that I can feel his breath blowing gently across my chest. My arms dangle lamely by my sides and I feel him reach out and take the scissors from me, setting them gently on the floor.

“Tate,” I say placing my hands on his biceps and pushing weakly against his arms. “What are you doing?”

He stands so that our bodies are pressed tightly against each other and I can feel his arousal against my hip. “It’s over,” he says bringing his hand up to my cheek and stroking the skin with his thumb dragging it along my jawline. “Jules and I are done.”

I swallow suddenly feeling violently ill.
This is my fault. I never should have told him I loved him.
“I-I’m so sorry,” I stutter, not really sure what else to say. Saying sorry doesn’t feel like enough considering I just ruined a relationship, and somehow I doubt Julia would think a chocolate cake with pink cursive icing spelling out,
sorry I broke up your engagement
would be acceptable.

“Don’t be. It wouldn’t have worked out anyway,” he says as he snakes a hand around to the base of my neck while leaning in slightly so that our lips are just an inch apart.

I’m so nervous I squeeze my eyes shut, knowing if I dare look at him right now my knees will buckle and I’ll crumble onto the floor. Licking my lips which have become suddenly dry, I whisper, “Why not? Why wouldn’t it have worked?”

“Because,” he says running the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip. “I gave away my heart a long time ago to a girl with wild hair and mesmerizing blue eyes, and when she left seven years ago, she took it with her. She’s the only one who will ever have my whole heart, and despite how much I’ve tried to fight it, seeing her tonight cemented the fact that there is no getting over her. She’s irreplaceable.”

I open my eyes, and a sharp ache stretches across my chest with the rawness in his eyes. Longing swells in me and every cell in my body becomes alert as his head dips and his lips find the crook of my neck. Instinctively my head rolls back and I arch against him, causing him to moan against my skin, sending vibrations tingling down my body. He peppers kisses along my collarbone and over to my shoulder before making his way back up my neck and along my jawline, teasing me by kissing around my mouth, but never
on
it. His lips gently brush against mine once…twice…three times before a slight whimper escapes my mouth.

“Tate,” I say raggedly. “There’s something I need to tell you. And I don’t really know how to start, but I-“

He chuckles and puts his finger to my lips, silencing my words. “Callie, not tonight, okay? Whatever it is, it can wait. I’ve been dreaming about this moment for as long as I can remember, and I’m done being patient.”

His mouth lands on mine and the relief is like tasting that first drop of water after hiking through the Sahara Desert. Pure bliss. My hands fist his hair as he holds onto me like I’m his lifeline, neither of us able to get close enough. Energy dances through my body as his tongue deftly moves with mine. I think back to when we were teenagers and how that kiss had been innocent, sweet and a bit unsure. There is nothing innocent or unsure about the way he kisses now. His mouth is possessive, claiming me and the way he nips at my lower lip has me dizzy with need.

I frown when I feel him pull away, and when I open my eyes, both of our chests are heaving heavily. His breaths are coming out in short, wispy spurts and his eyes are still closed making it hard to get a read on him. He rests his forehead against mine, dropping his hands from my body.

“I’m sorry,” he says not moving a muscle. “I can’t…”

I still with his words.
He regrets kissing me.
I suddenly feel awkward standing here in front of him, and I fight the shame that’s creeping into my face. Turning, I take a step to pick up the towels on the floor when I feel his hand reach out and grip my wrist.

“Hey,” he says pulling me so that I’m facing him again. “What’s wrong? Why do you look upset?”

Shoving the towels at him, I throw my arms up in the air. “If you were going to regret kissing me, then why did you bother doing it in the first place?”

“You think I regret kissing you?”

“Yes, you said you can’t—”

“What I meant, Callie was that I can’t keep kissing you because if we didn’t stop right then, I’d have ripped your damn clothes off and buried myself inside you.”

“Oh…” the word comes out breathy and I can’t help but feel elated at his words.

“If you think I regret any of that, then you’re out of your fucking mind. I was serious when I said that you have always had my whole heart, and I’m not going to screw this up this time. But I don’t want to rush this, okay? So I need to know that your marriage is truly over because I want you. I want us.”

“It is. It was over a long time ago, I just never wanted to admit it to myself.”

“Okay, good. I’m on shift this week, but I’ll see you Friday night.”

“What’s Friday night?”

“Our first official date.”

He kisses me as we slowly make our way toward the front door, and I sheepishly wave goodbye as I watch him jog away. I head upstairs to wash my face and brush my teeth, closing my eyes to let myself think of Rylee one more time, and when I picture her sweet face in my mind, I swear I hear her voice saying,
it’s about damn time.

“Okay boys, looks like there’s about three-hundred yards of drift,” our spotter says. “Landing spot is just over that ridge. Stay wide of the fire and for fucks sake, don’t deploy early.”

Last run we had, one of the rookies pulled his chute early, causing him to miss his landing. Luckily, the fire was already partially contained or he would have ended up roasted like a marshmallow. The sound of whirring propellers kicks my adrenaline into gear as I stare out the window at the plume of smoke straight ahead. Thick black columns of smoke stretch into the sky, piercing the atmosphere, while bright orange flames lick at the treetops, devouring them like a child with an ice cream cone.

The spotter props the door open, and drops a couple of streamers, watching intently as the brightly colored pieces whip defiantly against the smoky backdrop, until succumbing to the fire and disappearing from sight. “First up. Matt. Tate.” We get up and move towards the door. “Get ready, we’re comin’ ‘round the last pass.”

Lowering myself into sitting position, I brace my hands against the plane’s frame, letting my legs dangle out into the slipstream. I breathe in slowly, letting the sweet mountain air spiked with smoke filter through my lungs. Warmth coils around my legs as we fly past the fire, but I keep my focus trained on the landing spot out ahead.

The spotter raises his arm. “You all set?”

“Yup. I’m good.”

His hand lands on my shoulder and I launch myself out of the plane into the wind’s waiting arms. She cradles me, rocking me sideways before spinning me upside down. I’ll never get sick of this feeling. Weightlessness. Freedom. Happiness. The corners of my lips are tugged outward as a grin engulfs my face.

My body pitches forward as I careen towards earth, the forest and fire becoming a blur of darkness below. I begin the countdown in my head. One-one-thousand. Two-one-thousand. Three-one-thousand. My hand reaches and finds the rip cord, knowing how crucial it is to pull it at the right moment. Pull too soon and I’ll wind up off-course. Pull too late and I’ll become a permanent part of the landscape. Staring at the jumping spot, I hold my breath and wait. Wait. Wait. Now.

I yank on the cord and feel something tug against my shoulders as the parachute blooms open, bright orange against a black backdrop. “Whoop!” I yell into the open air, letting my voice get swept away.

Closing my eyes, I relish this moment.
This is the best part.
The soft
whooshing
of the wind can barely be heard above the roar of the fire, but there’s something soothing in that sound. Up here, it’s just me and the sky, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. When my feet hit the earth, I curl and roll into my landing before packing up my chute and wait for the rest of the guys. We have a fire to put out.

“Jesus, Tate, pay the fuck attention!” Matt yells at me over the crackling of branches snapping. “You’re going to end up cutting off your fucking hand.”

Blinking my focus back to my saw, I shake my head and look over at Matt who’s staring at me with a soot-covered face and a pick wedged into the ground as we try to cut down trees and mark the fire line. This fire has been raging on for three days, and we’re nearing the end of it, but I’m exhausted from getting only three hours of sleep each night while out here, and I’m sick of eating energy bars and drinking tepid water that does nothing to quench my thirst. The first two days weren’t so bad, but today’s been dragging. My muscles are so overworked I can barely feel them anymore, and I have a constant ache in my stomach from lack of real food.