Alex’s fingers closed so tight around his, there was pain.
He didn’t wince or make a move to shift her hold.
He looked to the man he used to razz at the firehouse. The man who, the last time Rix saw him, was sitting in Rix’s living room, trying hard not to look at Rix’s legs, also trying hard not to throw up all over himself, after he dropped on Rix a five-hundred-dollar bottle of scotch.
Rix still had it.
But he hadn’t opened it.
“Yeah, bud?” Rix called back.
“You happy?”
He felt that emotion.
He released her hand as his arm automatically moved to curl around Alex’s neck at the thought of it.
But for some fucking reason, he couldn’t say it.
“Look at me,” he said instead.
Brian looked back and forth between Alex and Rix.
And then he genuinely smiled, gave them a short wave, got in his car and motored.
Rix looked down at Alex. “Ready to roll, baby?”
“My key to your place is in my bag in the truck, can you let me in your house?”
“Need to hit the head?”
“Please let me in your house, Rix.”
He studied her.
Then he led her to the side door and into the kitchen.
She did not head to the bathroom.
She went out on the deck.
He went out with her.
She stood on the deck, staring at his back yard.
“Babe?”
It was his voice that flipped a switch for her.
Movements agitated, she turned to the pillows on his bench, nabbed a couple and, twisting at the waist to give it her all, she hurled them into his yard. Back to the pillows, off they flew. Then she went after the cushions. All the bench cushions, flung. The ones on the chair. Gone.
Then she stood at the foot of his deck and glared at them.
He got what she was feeling. He really did. It was still fucking adorable how she expressed it.
Rix didn’t tease her to get her out of it.
Because his throat was closed and that tear in his torso was trembling.
“I’ll put them back in a second,” she snapped.
“Okay, sweetheart.”
“You were good with him,” she told the yard.
“Yeah.”
“What the fuck was he thinking?” she asked the yard.
“I don’t know, baby. If I fucked up like he did, there might come a time when I was driven to do the same. But you gotta understand, it’s not just me, Alex. There were ten of us out there. I caught it, but the fullness of what he lives with is he knows. He knows that fire could have taken us all.”
She made a “huh” noise that wasn’t the normal “huh,” but the sound you make to let out emotion you’re holding so you won’t cry.
“We can hit the road tomorrow,” he offered.
She turned to him then and snarled, “We’re going to Ouray.”
“All right, honey,” he murmured.
“You were good with him,” she repeated.
He didn’t have a reply.
“You’re just good,” she declared.
That fissure shifted, stronger, shuddering.
“Best man I’ve ever met in my life,” she concluded.
She then stormed into the yard to retrieve the cushions.
Rix gave it a second to get a lock on it.
Then he followed in order to help.
The pines were dark arrows, pointing straight to the stars.
Rix was on his back, his pack shoved under his head, his fingers playing with Alex’s hair.
Alex didn’t need a pack. Her pillow was his chest.
They were lying on a blanket, wrapped in another one, out by a hot spring, staring at the heavens, when she remarked, “I gotta know.”
“Know what, baby?”
“The difference between a goof and a dork.”
Where did that come from?
“What?” he asked.
“You said I was a dork and a goof too. What’s the difference?”
He’d never called her either fucking word.
“When did I say that?” he demanded.
“After the first time we had sex.”
Oh yeah.
Right.
He had called her those because she was giving him shit about her being bashful.
He had no idea what the difference was, so he made something up.
“A dork is someone who does goofy shit. A goof is someone who says dorky shit.”
He heard her soft laughter.
“Though, I should probably call you Lady Goof,” he noted.
“Bluh,” she replied.
He grinned at the stars.
She turned, pushed up and rested her arm and side with the bonus of one tit on his chest so she could look at his face.
Since it was a better view, he looked at hers.
“How’d you meet Judge?” she asked.
Since he’d lost purchase on her hair, he shoved a hand up her thermal and wrapped his fingers around the soft, warm skin covering her ribcage.
Offer him a thousand dollars, he couldn’t tell you which he liked better.
Though, he was leaning toward her hair.
“Fourth of July,” he answered. “I don’t know, four years back, maybe five. River Rain does a thing for the parade. FD does one too. We got in a friendly competition that, no matter what Judge might tell you, was all his. He totally started it.”