Excerpt from When Lightning Strikes An eerie silence settled over the lookout. Thick air curled in from the open windows, bringing the metallic taste of ozone.
What about you, Luke? Jessica implored from atop the tiny lightning stool. The glass insulators on the legs would protect her, but Luke was vulnerable to a strike, even with the grounding wires connected to the lookout. At least move away from the stove.
Luke scratched the back of his neck where the hairs stood on end. A strange noise, a brassy ticking, encircled the building.
Make room. The sound of the humming lightning rods and grounding wires was enough to propel Luke to the safety.
Awkwardly Luke climbed atop the stool, facing her. Here, put your feet between mine, he instructed. The seams of her dirty tennis shoes balanced precariously against the instep of his polished leather boots. The insides of his knees brushed the outsides of her thighs. Electricity charged the air.
The stool was no wider than a dictionary. Jessica had never been this close to a man before, not even with her most liberal dance partner. Self-consciously they held their hands at their sides, unsure of where to place them. Jessica started to wobble and reached toward the firefinder for balance.
No, Jessica! Luke grabbed her hand and pulled it to his chest.
But Im tipping. Real fear cracked her voice and her eyes dilated with concern.
Dont touch anything. To soothe the sharpness in his voice he added, Its grounded, but Ive seen firefinders melt anyway.
Taking both her elbows, he guided her hands to his waist. Hold tight, Little Wren.
Dense storm clouds veiled the evening sun, dropping the lookout into premature night. A blue glow hovered around the krummholz to the south. At first Luke thought it was an apparition, a figment of his imagination. Then he remembered stories he had heard from other firewatchers about St. Elmos fire. Along with trees or livestock, anything metal could attract the specter electricity: the stove, bedsprings, firefinder, even the nails in a building had been known to glow blue during a storm.
Luke also remembered the stories old-timers told about lookoutsand sometimes their occupantsbeing struck by lightning. This was mostly before any real effort had been made to ground the buildings. Windows shattered, nails popped like shrapnel, stoves cracked in half. And the only person left to report the blazing building was the man on the next ridge over.
The copper lightning rods buzzed again, and Luke glanced toward the ceiling. Hed just checked the wires. Heather Mountain was grounded with the best method available. They were as safe as they could be.
Jessica clung to Luke while Nature battled with herself just outside the windows. A brilliant flash and simultaneous boom rocked the building, which seemed insignificant protection in the face of such power. Jessicas hair floated about her face, charged by unseen forces, and the ozone-air burned her senses. The next explosion lit the interior as brightly as a spotlight, and she closed her eyes with fear, burying her face in Lukes chest. She could feel his heart beating, as untamed as the whipping wind. The storm continued its fury, each blast more fierce than the last, each slash of lightning illuminating the dim interior.
Jessica closed herself to the tempest outside. Her arms banded around Luke, pulling full against him. She inched closer at each flash, trembling in fright. The comforting weight of his biceps on her shoulders and the soothing movements of his hands on her back held her firmly, safely.
Lukes voice penetrated between thunderclaps. Sh-sh. Hold tight. Were safe. The feeling of his words against her ear brought more comfort than their meaning, and his breath caressed the hair along her neck, as electrifying as the static in the room.
Luke glanced down the woman in his arms, aware that her fright was very real. Her locked-shut eyelids matched the grip she had on his still-damp shirt. Quick, shallow breaths puffed against him from tip of her slightly upturned nose. Luke stroked her back with his hands, murmuring, Be still, Little Wren. The storms moving. Hear the rain?
As the crashes of thunder diminished to growls then distant rumbles, Jessica gradually calmed. But with each flash of lightning, she still jerked perceptively. Torrents of rain now washed the ozone from the air. Their soothing beat soon drowned the fury of the storm.
As the danger passed, she grew more aware of Lukes body against hers. Her heart still tripped, but from his nearness now, instead of fear. Her nose lodged against the V of his shirt, and his masculine scent filled her nostrils while a few hairs tickled her nose. Her body pressed against him, igniting strange, wonderful sensations that reached her toes. She couldnt make herself let gonot yet. Instead she looked up into his face.
Chocolate eyes locked on sky blue ones.
Luke canted his head and dipped into the kiss. Jessicas lips, at first trembling and shy, soon discovered his texture and tasted his warmth. Perhaps it was the power of the storm, or the seclusion of the mountains, or the intimacy of the tiny building, but Jessica molded to him in a purely natural response. What he hoped would be a gentling, a reassuring gesture, soon ignited with passion. Positive and negative, land and sky, they yearned for each other, sought release but only found only continued wanting. His hands roved her back, her neck. Her fingers traced the muscles along his sides. She lifted her palms to his face; he glided his fingers down her thighs. Her mouth opened and his tongue swept inside, igniting a new fire within her. She accepted him with a soft moan.
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