Playing With Fire: inspirational romantic suspense (Montana Fire Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

the flames.
    Then he saw it—a clearing of the trees—and against it, the yellow fire shirts of his team. Heard Jed yelling at him.
    The world narrowed, focused on the pinprick hope of survival.
    They broke out of the forest and Jed caught Conner’s arm before they both flew over the edge into a gorge twenty feet below, a frothing, cool river.
    “C’mon!” Jed said, and pointed to a wash where boulders and rocks formed a natural slope.
    His team was already scrambling down the cliff.
    Conner helped Tom over to it, the fire crackling behind him, then scooted down, his heart in his mouth as he nearly jumped into the wet sanctuary of the gorge.
    Jed tumbled down right behind him.
    They stood there, congregated near the river’s edge, gulping in air as the smoke gathered above them, the fire flickering out over the cliff.
    Reuben let out a hot breath. “That was close.” He pulled off his bandanna and pressed it to the wound on his neck.
    Jed hauled out his radio, called in to check on the other hotshots.
    Conner closed his eyes with near tangible relief when Sarge, the crew boss, called in.
    Only then did Conner hear the roar of the drop plane, soaring in to bathe the forest in retardant.
    Tom sagged down in the river, grimacing.
    No one spoke then, just watched the fire throw cinder and ash into the river, the forest sizzling, popping, choking around them.
    The silence stayed with them as they hiked upstream, as they found a place to climb out, as they called in their position and hiked another two miles to a forest service road.
    Miles DaFoe, who’d flown in to help as Incident Commander, picked them up in the buggy. They crammed into it, gulping water, staring out the windows.
    And this was exactly why he needed friendships with no strings, no promises.
    But he needed them all the same.
     
     
    #
     
     
    Liza wasn’t usually rousted out of bed before dawn, but something nudged her spirit, a darkness that tunneled through her, twisted her through her bedsheets.
    She couldn’t get Conner off her mind.
    She didn’t want to attribute her thoughts to the way he’d turned an hour of touring the Deep Haven festival into six delicious hours of conversation, cumulating with them sitting on the beach, listening to the waves comb the shore while he told her about his life in Montana. And a few near misses during his military service that he’d probably completely played down.
    He was a quiet man, with a self-deprecating sense of humor, and when he talked, he picked up things, like a rock, rubbing it with his thumb, or folding his napkin, or even sorting through the pebbles, looking for an agate. Like he always had to be moving, thinking, even as he let his thoughts slow down. Unravel.
    With their conversation, any sort of weirdness between them, the kind that might accompany a stir of desire, of hope, also settled into a comfortable warmth.
    Friends.
    Liza couldn’t exactly ignore the way when he looked at her with those amazing blue eyes, her heart gave a rebellious leap, but she’d managed to tame it into a soft smile. She’d had good-looking, just-friends before. Most of her life, actually. And sure, nothing like the way Conner made her feel, but it didn’t matter.
    He was in town for only a few weeks. And during that time, she’d do her best to be his friend.
    Especially when God nudged her out of bed at o-dark-hundred to pray.
    Although she didn’t know the specifics, Liza stood at her window, staring out at the darkened harbor, the tiniest hint of sunrise along the far edge of the horizon, pressed her hand to the window, and asked God to save him.
    Save all of them.
    Because of Your great love, do not let them be consumed. Do not let Your compassions fail, Lord.
    She got dressed and headed out to the harbor, the sunrise beckoning as it filled the eastern horizon with layers of rose, magenta, and gold, gilding the pebbles on the beach, turning the water in the harbor a burnt orange.
    She sat on the beach, not