Montana Hero by Debra Salonen Page B

the end, Tucker shut up when Flynn asked, “Do you want to dance again or not?”
    Naturally, the whole process took longer than Flynn wanted. He hadn’t liked the way he’d left things with Kat. He’d sensed how connected she felt to the old woman they’d helped, and a text a few minutes ago from the EMTs said they were admitting Molly. When the Emergency Room doctor examined her, he heard a rumble in Molly’s chest that suggested pneumonia.
    Plus, he probably owed Kat some sort of explanation for why he froze the way he had. Too bad the truth made him look like such a pussy.
    “So, what’s the new job like?” Tucker asked from the backseat, where Flynn had positioned him to keep his foot elevated on a pile of Tucker’s belongings and Flynn’s backpack.
    Flynn glanced in the rearview mirror. “Not bad. It feels a lot like our downtime…without a rake.”
    Generally, people didn’t know how much of an active firefighter’s time was spend cleaning, prepping and repairing equipment, in addition to tending to the landscaping around the firehouse and other public places. For the past couple of years, his crew had campaigned for residents who lived in remote areas to clear safety breaks thirty feet around all structures. Flynn and his crew called themselves “master gardeners with chain saws and rakes.”
    “My call this morning involved an old lady on a candy-apple-red scooter and a lost cat.”
    Tucker let out an amused whoop. “What is it with you and old women, Bensen? Don’t you think it’s time you tried to hook up with someone your own age?”
    A clear image of Kat Robinson popped into his brain, making Flynn’s fingers tighten reflexively on the steering wheel.
    “How long have you been divorced?”
    “A year and a half, give or take.”
    Flynn and Darla split shortly after Ryker, who’d come to Tennessee to spend Christmas with them after his tragic loss, left. The holiday had been strained, to say the least.
    “Seems longer. I believe The Goat won that pool.”
    Flynn snickered softly. His Great Smoky crew bet on everything. He wondered if the Crawford County SAR bunch did, too? Probably not. He couldn’t see Kat Robinson throwing away money on stupid wagers, particularly when the outcome involved someone’s marriage.
    She’s too kind for that, he thought.
    The way she’d helped Molly O’Neal this morning had really impressed him. Calm, determined, and rock solid. He could go for a woman like that…if she didn’t work for him. He and Darla had been co-workers when they started dating.
    At first, they’d tried to keep the affair a secret. After they married, the tension and drama their ongoing issues brought to the workplace made a bad situation worse.
    Flynn swore he’d never go down that road to disaster again.
    With the uncanny way Tucker had of guessing what was on Flynn’s mind—a gift he attributed to his Cajun grandmother, Tucker asked, “Have you heard from Darla lately?”
    Flynn’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “No.”
    “She married that guy she left you for, didn’t she?”
    “Yes.” And he’d heard she gave birth to a baby a few months ago. A fact Tucker probably knew, too.
    Flynn’s gut churned whenever he pictured the happy family snugly at home in the house he bought with money from his late father’s estate.
    How come it never occurred to me to question Darla’s timing? he asked himself for the ten-thousandth time.
    He and Darla had worked together for two years before she suddenly initiated a flirtation, which led to a whole lot more. Not until Justin pointed out the correlation between Darla’s sudden infatuation and the fact he’d just turned thirty—the age he could access his rather substantial trust fund—did Flynn start to second-guess his wife’s motives.
    Of course, she denied knowing anything about the money before their wedding, but he knew that was a lie. His blabbermouth buddies made sure everybody knew Flynn was a rich SOB.
    Was.