Page 232 of Her Reluctant Hero
Chapter Eight
Peyton should be scandalized that Cooper had seen her naked. She grabbed the towel and rubbed it vigorously over her body. His high-handed attitude, pushing into her shower, should piss her off. She would be pissed off, as soon as she ate a hot meal and slept in an honest-to-God bed.
That was what he’d meant when he mentioned a bed, wasn’t it?
That was what she wanted him to mean.
It was.
Her extra clothes had been lost in the fire and she grimaced as she put her filthy clothes on her mostly clean body. She slicked her soapy hair back into a ponytail. Surely there was a Walmart or something nearby where she could at least get some underwear, some T-shirts.
Of course facing Gabe after he’d seen her naked added to her stress. He’d also seen her sniveling, panic stricken and crying, so at least he had the whole picture.
Not that it mattered.
She walked out of the shower looking nearly as bad as when she walked in, her hair clumped with shampoo, black streaks still on her skin. Head held high, she passed the line of firefighters who scowled at her for making them wait for their turn under the spray.
The long van Gabe’s crew had commandeered for the drive into town sat near the command tent. Though Gabe had a seat beside him in the front, she chose the middle seat, wanting distance from him, not only because of the shower incident, but because of the mountain. Kim happily sat beside Gabe. Great. As if Gabe wasn’t enough, she had to deal with Kim for the first time since the rocks in the backpack. Fun time.
Peyton stared out the window at the smoke billowing from behind the mountain. Would she feel the same way if she hadn’t learned the history of him and Jen, if she hadn’t been the one to bring such painful memories to the surface?
The charred face of the mountain was so far away. How had they come such a distance in just a few hours? Had any crews been sent out with the smokejumpers to battle it? As tired as she was, she felt guilty for not being out there herself.
She didn’t see a Walmart on the drive into town. Hell, it wasn’t much of a town, just a cluster of wood-shingled buildings with hand-lettered signs. The people who lived and worked here were no doubt thrilled the fire was miles away, or their little wooden town would be ashes.
One shop was labeled The General Store. Please, God, let them have underwear. As soon as Gabe parked the van, she hurried over as the rest of the crew headed for the restaurant.
At least she’d had the sense to keep her money in her fire pants. She dug it out to count it. Unless they charged outrageous prices for panties, she was in good shape.
Near the entrance, she grabbed a couple of souvenir T-shirts proclaiming the splendor of Montana, then hunted for underwear and socks.
The only socks in stock were brightly colored and very girly, but the grit in her boots right now gave her little choice. Panties were easier to find but expensive. Still, she bought two packages and vowed to throw her current pair away. The only bras available were the armored variety, like her mother used to buy her, the cheap ones from Sears that made her boobs look misshapen, but she didn’t have the luxury to go without.
She carried her selection to the checkout, counting out her money. The heavyset elderly man attending the store had risen from his stool when she’d walked in, watched her progress throughout the store. Maybe he suspected she was a shoplifter, so she made a show of having money.
Instead, he waved his hand at her offering. “That’s no good here.”
Discouragement weighed her down. She couldn’t bear being in these filthy clothes one minute longer. Just looking at the clean cotton made her itchy. “But I need this stuff. I lost my pack—”
“Good. Take it. I’m not taking your money.”
She frowned, confused. “But—”
“You guys work your asses off up there protecting me and mine. It’s the least I can do.”
He thought she was a Hot Shot. Well, she was, but hadn’t really considered herself more than a reporter doing a Hot Shot’s job. Everyone at camp saw her as a reporter too. That this stranger thought she was a hero like Gabe and the others gave her a strange sense of pride.
“I have the money,” she insisted, holding it out to him.
“And I told you.” He closed his hand over the drawer of the register. How could he afford to offer her what was easily fifty dollars worth of merchandise? He couldn’t have the kind of business in this area that would give him the luxury to ignore fifty bucks. “It’s no good here. I’m too old to do what you do. This is my way of saying thank you. Now be a good girl and accept a gift graciously.”
She reddened at his scold and accepted the bag he held out to her.
“Thank you,” she murmured, humbled by his generosity.
“No, dear.” He smiled at her, taking away some of the sting of his earlier gruffness. “Thank you.”
*****
