Rings of Fire Ch. 08

Lauren frowned, she had always been aware of the impact that her parents' divorce had upon her life and choices. She supposed that she had just assumed because Brent grew up with two parents that he did not bear similar scars.

Sure, she had always known about the rift between father and son but never had Brent spoken with such obvious pain and anger about his father. Perhaps it was a part of the reason he had fought the divorce until the end, remained so close to their daughters, reluctantly she admitted...perhaps even closer than she was.

His fingers bunched in the shortly cropped waves once more, "What now? What the fuck do I do? What do I tell them? People who are counting on me. On us, to keep them safe."

"I know this may not be the answer you want, Brent, but a conservative approach is probably best. For now..."

"Unless there are more data points, more eruptions, right, Lauren?"

She nodded her head with a tight smile and another gentle squeeze on his forearm, "Yes, unless."

She sighed before continuing with her 'sensible,' as he would call it, solution. "Children and the elderly, the vulnerable, especially in Europe where the winds will blow the gases first. Evacuate them. Bring them here. It will take some time, months, perhaps even a year for the worst of the vog to make it here. By then it will have dissipated at least a bit. It is not the perfect solution, but it is..."

"Sensible."

She chuckled at his use of that word. "Yes, Brent, sensible."

He was silent for a couple of moments as his fingers worked back and forth across his scalp several times. She watched the play of emotions across his face as he pondered her suggestions. She knew that she had won when his shoulders slumped. He nodded his head as he spoke, "Okay, that's the plan. I'll send the word out then."

He reached into his back pocket and drew forth this phone. His face was that tight mask as he typed away at the tiny screen for a couple of long moments. When he finally looked up, she saw the pain and worry etched into every small line and crevice of his still breathtakingly handsome face.

She was reminded then of another reason that she loved this man - he cared. Brent genuinely cared, not just about facts, data, and theory like so many of their colleagues. But about the people, the lives that were affected by all that. He was always the first to offer his bottle of water to thirsty villagers — the one to half his own rations to feed a mother and her child.

Tears filled her eyes as she remembered that first day in Sumatra. They had come across a mother holding her dead baby. Her husband was trying desperately to get her to release the child's bloated and smelly corpse. But she would not. Not without her blanket. Something to keep her dead body warm. Lauren had cried then as she did now thinking about how Brent had taken the shirt from his back and wrapped it about that dead baby.

Lauren trembled as she realized the inevitable - she would never get over this man. No matter what, she would love Brent Jacobs until her dying breath. How could she not?

And how could she not do the one thing now that she had done then? Take this gentle, intelligent, and strong man into her arms and body. Offer him the one thing that only she could...comfort, peace, and solace.

The world might not precisely be coming to an end, but he still needed her. And if she were honest, she needed him just as much. Her rock. Her safety. The one person besides Grandmam that she had always been able to count on.

She stood up from his desk, slowly stretching the muscles that had grown tight over hours at the computer. She smiled softly at him, her best imitation of a seductive grin, as she came to stand in front of him. She wrapped her arms about those broad shoulders and pressed her body against his, feeling the immediate stirring beneath his belt buckle. She could not stifle the girlish giggle as his arms wrapped about her waist.

"What's so funny, sweetheart?" he teased as he buried his face in the side of her neck. His five o'clock shadow scraped along the sensitive skin there, once more sending those butterflies into flight.

"I guess what they say about big belt buckles in Texas is not always true then?" she wiggled her hips seductively against his growing erection.

"When a whole lot of Decembers are showin' in your face. Your auburn hair has faded, and silver takes its place. You'll be just as lovely, and I'll still be around and if I can I know that I'd still love to lay you down," his rich baritone caressed her every nerve, alighting them like a trail of lava burning everything in its path until it reached her knickers and flowed forth.

"Brent," she drew his face closer, "make love to me."