Page 75 of The Fire Line

Eventually Harris turned with the mugs.

Their eyes met.

Which was apparently all it took.

Harris crossed the cabin, set the mugs down on the shelf by Jay’s bunk, and kissed him.

There was no shock this time, no collision followed by disbelief. Jay knew what was happening from the first second and pulled Harris between his knees. Harris came willingly, one hand braced against the wall while the other settled on Jay’s thigh over the sleeping bag.

The kiss started slow, almost lazy, until Jay slipped a hand beneath Harris’s shirt and felt his stomach tighten beneath his palm. Harris answered by unzipping the sleeping bag and reaching inside.

Jay sucked in a breath against his mouth.

At the lookout, Harris had touched him with intense concentration, as though every reaction Jay gave him was information worth remembering. This time there was less hesitation. His hand found what had worked before and did it again.

Jay pulled him closer and slipped a hand beneath the waistband of Harris’s boxers in return. They got each other off with their hands again, slower than at the lookout and with considerably less uncertainty.

By the time they finally separated, gray morning had begun to fill the cabin, and their coffee was cold.

13

Something Happened Somewhere Else

They broke camp and rode before seven.

Jay was feeling the ride. Harris could tell by the increasingly careful way he lowered himself into the saddle and the expression he made whenever Red stepped down hard on the steeper sections. He complained about the line-cabin bunk twice before nine.

By then, the swelling in his mouth had gone down but not disappeared, and a red mark showed beneath his jaw. Harris knew exactly where that one had come from.

He didn’t mention it. He noticed, though. He noticed a lot of things now that he no longer had to pretend he wasn’t looking.

They took their time coming down, stopping whenever Jay found something worth filming. The fires remained several ridges away, but tankers crossed above the mountains often enough to have become part of the sky, silver flashes moving through the smoke haze. Where the trail narrowed Harris rode ahead; where it widened, Red kept finding his way alongside.

By midafternoon, Shaw Ranch began appearing through the trees in pieces—the lodge roof first, then barns and corrals, trucks moving between the cottonwoods. With every familiar landmark came the awareness of other people. At the lookout there had been nobody to see where Harris’s attention went. At the line cabin, nobody had noticed how easily the space between them kept disappearing or why the coffee went cold.

Down there were his parents, Evan and Elise, the girls, ranch hands, guests, and an entire film crew whose job involved noticing things.

Harris let a little more distance open between the horses.

Priya was already striding toward them when they rode into the yard.

“I’ve been texting you for three hours, Jay.”

Jay reached for the phone buried somewhere in his pack. “We just got signal.”

“I figured.” Priya barely slowed. “The stock move got pushed to tonight, the regional well test moved up to Friday morning, and if we leave in the next twenty minutes we can still get both.”

Jay was halfway out of the saddle before she finished. “Access confirmed?”

“Yeah, a couple hours ago.”

“Light?”

“Three hours if we’re lucky.”

Eli came out of the lodge carrying two equipment cases. “We’re staying out, right?”

“We have to.” Priya looked at Jay. “Through Sunday.”