Page 4 of The Blaze Between Us

She stares at me, her gaze so direct that I have to resist the urge to look away. "Ellie talks about you like you're some kind of superhero," she says softly. "I used to think she was exaggerating because, you know, daddy's girl and all that. But maybe she wasn't."

"Trust me, I'm very human," I say, perhaps more gruffly than intended. "Just ask Ellie about the time I tried to make Christmas dinner after my late wife died. The fire department almost had to respond to their own chief's house."

She laughs, and the sound is so genuine, so unguarded, that I find myself laughing too.

"So, two weeks in Cedar Falls," I add, "and it sounds like my daughter has been a less than attentive host."

Tasha shrugs, licking ice cream from her spoon in a way that draws my eyes to her mouth and plump lips. "She's in love. I get it. And honestly, I've enjoyed the hiking. The views around here are incredible."

"They are," I agree, though at the moment, the only view I'm interested in is sitting across from me. "Have you made it up to Cascade Falls yet? It's about a forty-minute hike, but worth every step."

"Not yet." Her eyes light up. "That's on my list, though."

"The trail can be a bit tricky to follow in spots," I say, then hesitate, weighing what I'm about to suggest. "I have tomorrow morning free if you'd like a guide."

The moment the words leave my mouth, I know I'm stepping onto dangerous ground. This isn't just showing a tourist around town—it's seeking out time alone with her, away from prying eyes, in the wilderness where there would be nothing to distract me from her presence.

She sets her spoon down, her expression suddenly serious. "Are you sure? I don't want to impose on your free time."

"You wouldn't be," I say, too quickly. "I was planning to head up there anyway. Could use the exercise." It's a lie, but a small one.

"Then I'd love to," she says, and the smile that spreads across her face makes my heart rate kick up. "What time?"

"Eight too early? The morning light on the falls is something special."

"Eight is perfect."

It's only when I glance at my watch and realize an hour has passed that I force myself to stand.

"I should get going," I say reluctantly. "Early start tomorrow."

She walks me to the door, and in the small entryway, we're standing close enough that I can smell the light floral scent of her shampoo. Close enough that if I wanted to—and god help me, I do want to—I could easily reach out and pull her to me.

"Thank you for the ice cream," I say, my voice harsher than it should.

"Thank you for rescuing me," she replies with a small smile. "And for tomorrow. Should I meet you somewhere?"

"I'll pick you up here, if that works?"

She nods. "Perfect."

I step outside, the evening air cool against my suddenly warm skin.

"Goodnight, Tasha."

"Goodnight, Brock."

My name on her lips sounds different, intimate, and sweeter as if she was always meant to say it. I turn and walk to my truck before I can do something stupid like lean in to see if she tastes as sweet as they look.

As I drive home, the reality of what I've done settles over me. I've just arranged to spend hours alone with a woman half my age, a woman who should be forbidden to me. A woman who, in the space of a single hour, has awakened feelings I thought long buried.

I should cancel. Text her tonight with some excuse about work or responsibilities. That would be the sensible thing to do.

Instead, I’m already planning what to pack for our hike and wondering if the small cafe near the trailhead might be a good place to take her for lunch afterward.

I'm in trouble. Deep, deep trouble.

And for the first time in a very long time, I don't care.

---