Walk Through the Fire (Finley Creek Book 10)

by Calle J. Brookes

  By the time the meeting was done, Annie and the deputy mayor had made it clear that Turner had saved all but five homes. That mattered. The fact that he’d tried.

  Annie had pointed out herself that he’d been working on their behalf while also coordinating the city’s recovery efforts. He hadn’t had to do that. But he had.

  Now he walked at her side, a TSP squad car a few blocks back to give them privacy, at Elliot’s insistence. She couldn’t forget what had happened to Turner the last time she’d seen him.

  Annie was stupidly conscious of how hot his flesh was against hers. She hadn’t held a man’s hand since she’d been fifteen, and Evan Jenkins from four doors down had asked her to be his girlfriend.

  This was nothing like that sweet, childish day.

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?” She could smell him, that slightly woodsy and mint scent that she remembered from the storm. Every time she’d resurfaced, she would smell him first. Then her eyes would open, and she’d stare into his darker blue ones.

  “For speaking out. I thought I was going to get burned at the stake tonight. Your neighbors look like the type to have pitchforks in their pantries.”

  “They’re just scared. Most of the people in this neighborhood have lived here for decades. To suddenly need to move, to be forced into the decision—or to have had a natural disaster take that choice—everything switches around. It’s hard to just get through when you don’t know what it is you have to get through to begin with.” Annie stopped walking, right at the street sign before the last intersection that led to her home. “People hate feeling powerless, Turner. The storm showed us exactly how little control we do have over our own destinies. I know it did me.”

  His hand tightened on hers. “Annie...you were so damned brave that day. I don’t know that I would have handled it as well as I did, if you hadn’t been.”

  “Somehow, I don’t believe that.” She shivered as memories crowded into her head. As his scent surrounded her and reminded her of how it had felt that day in the rubble. “We...I’d probably be dead if you hadn’t pulled me close when you did. We both got so lucky the day.”

  “But we’re not dead. We’re here. And we’re together.” He pulled her to his chest, shocking Annie at how quickly the man moved. He smelled good, woodsy and male. His chest was hard and broad and strong. Reassuring. A woman could stay forever in his arms. “At first, I thought it was just the storm.”

  “What was?” She wasn’t paying attention to his words. Far from it. The feel of his body was far too distracting. It had been a long time since she’d been held like this, by a man she couldn’t get out of her head.

  “What made it so hard for me to forget you.” His fingers tangled in her ponytail. “I find it hard to forget you Annie-Belle Gaines. It may be the eyes. Or the way you smile. When you laugh, your lip tilts up just a tiny bit. Right here. A little lopsided, and a whole lot sexy. Has anyone ever told you that? Every time I see it, I want to kiss you. See if I can taste your laughter. I bet it tastes sweet.”

  He stared at her mouth like it fascinated him. Her stomach clenched. The look in his eyes was one she recognized. It was just like Caine looked at Nikkie Jean. Or his twin looked at Jillian. Heat. Pure, unfiltered male lust for the woman he was looking at.

  And that woman was her. Oh boy. She wanted to be that woman with him. She did. Just how much she wanted it slammed into her. Hard.

  “I think you’re insane, Mayor Barratt. Completely and totally insane. Delusional.” She wasn’t exactly sexy in her frumpy green scrubs, her hair falling down from the band she’d put it up in hours earlier, and her sensible white shoes. Her only concession to vanity at all had been to pop a wintergreen mint in her mouth before the community center meeting. It was all she’d had the time for.

  Annie looked more like a dust mop than she did a sexpot.

  Not like him. He was well-pressed, well-groomed, and well-dressed. He wasn’t wearing a suit jacket, but his shirt and tie were in direct contrast to what most of the men had been wearing at the meeting tonight. The light wind ruffled the warm, dark brown hair, and pressed the light blue cotton of his shirt against his broad chest.

  The man looked like a living, breathing men’s magazine advertisement. He started walking again. He didn’t say anything until they were stepping on her porch. “Not crazy at all. I finally feel like I’m exactly where I want to be.”

  He tugged on her hand when she would have slipped her key into the lock. “Turner?”

  “Sit out here with me.”

  “I need to call Nikkie Jean and check on the boys and call the hospital to check on Izzie.” Anything. Anything to put some space, whether actual space or not, between them.

  It was like this, when he was just like this, that she had a hard time not being attracted to him. Like this he was quiet and contemplative and not like the forceful, dynamic politician he’d been earlier tonight. It was like there were two men inside that hot, handsome body. “How do you do it?”

  “Do what?” He tugged on her hand again, and she let him lead her to the pumpkin orange swing at the end of her porch. He sat down first, then pulled her down—right next to him. Until her thigh was touching his.

  His arm slipped behind her shoulders. She bit back the urge to yelp.

  Annie wanted to do something completely stupid; she wanted to just snuggle up right next to him. Where she didn’t belong. Still, what would just a few minutes hurt? “Be the mayor? Be in front of everyone. You were basically the whipping boy for most of the room tonight. You didn’t cause the storm. Yet everyone wants answers from you. Like you have the magic power needed just to fix everything all nice and pretty and in a big, pink bow.”

  “To tell you a secret, I’m not so sure what I’m doing, either. I had twenty-two months as the deputy mayor. The biggest catastrophe we had was when Farm Road 84 washed out, and we had half the county stranded on the wrong side. I mostly feel like I’m muddling through all of this. And like I may have gotten duped, taking the job. Most days, I think Carl would have been a better mayor than I am, by far.” He sent her a rueful grin, then shook his head. “I shouldn’t say that. I gave the deputy mayoral position a lot of thought before I took it. I knew it was a commitment going in. Carl could have taken it then, but he’d just stepped back a bit to be with his grandson. He’d assured me I could handle it all. I’m not sure I believe he had my best interests at heart that day. I didn’t expect to get the top position, though.”

  “You were an attorney before.” She knew his bio, what she’d read in the newspapers that littered the third-floor break room. She’d pored over the papers everywhere the Barratt name had been mentioned.

  Pitiful. Like a schoolgirl again.

  “Yes. I was a partner in my uncle’s practice, with two of my cousins.” His hand was still playing with her hair. With the back of her neck beneath the ponytail. Annie fought the urge to shiver from the heat of his touch.

  She’d always been sensitive there.

  Annie wanted those fingers elsewhere.

  She was grateful the sun was starting to set and he couldn’t see the fire that hit her cheeks.

  Annie hadn’t had those kinds of thoughts about a man in close to two years. She just hadn’t had the time to even think about a man, let alone be attracted to one. This was probably not the best man to be starting those feelings about again.

  She had to remember that.

  “Are you running again?” There’s another election coming up, she thought. Since he hadn’t won the position but stepped into it with the previous mayor’s death.

  “I honestly don’t know what I’ll do when the time comes. I figure to get through the next few months, possibly the end of the year, then I’ll decide. I want to help the city recover, Annie. Hell, maybe that’s my calling. The law practice I am a partner in was leveled by the storm. We’re rebuilding now. But I was good at being an attorney. I can make a decent living doing that, and not be responsible for the
fate of an entire city. There was far less pressure, believe it or not. But...I’m the mayor for a reason. I am trying to remember that. But there are nights like tonight when I wonder if I’m just making things worse for the town. If the town would be better off if I let Carl take over the position. He’d been on the city council for decades before taking the deputy position when I asked him. He’s on boards and charities and civic organizations throughout the county. Throughout the state. I know he's been making hints about retiring, but…”

  “No. I don’t think you are the wrong man at all.” Before she even realized she was moving, Annie leaned her head against his shoulder. This...this was crazy. She was not practically snuggled up with the mayor on a pumpkin orange front porch swing.

  But she was. And it felt good. Right. Like she had found an island in the middle of the ocean, right there snuggled up against him.

  Pitiful, pitiful, pitiful.

  She should pack the boys up and move to Fiji or something. Before she snuggled even closer and made one of the biggest mistakes of her life.

  “To hear your neighbors say it, I am. Especially the guy in the coveralls.”

  “Harley’s been a problem for people in this neighborhood almost as long as I’ve lived here. I don’t think the city could have gotten through the storm if it hadn’t been for you, Turner. I know I couldn’t have.”

  “I meant to come be with you in the hospital that first day. But I couldn’t get away. I didn’t leave my temporary office until Elliot Marshall kicked me out. Worse.”

  “What?”

  “He sicced Guard-Gabby and her friends on me. Mel especially had a lot to say. She played the family-cares card and made me feel guilty for upsetting everyone who cared about me.”

  Annie winced, but it was good-natured. Turner’s cousin’s wife could be a bit bossy when she was worried about someone. Mel had turned her attention in Annie’s direction on a few occasions. “I’m sure she did.”

  “Don’t tell Houghton, but I’m half in love with that woman. She...rocks.”

  “She does.”

  “She fits him so well. He needs someone like her in his life. He’s the luckiest bastard on the planet.” His hand slipped down her arm, and he pulled her closer. “Hard not to envy him. Well, most of the time. Mel can be a dictator when she wants to be.”

  “They are lucky they made it through what happened to them.” Mel and Houghton had had some seriously terrifying things happen to them in the early days of their relationship. But they’d made it through.

  Getting through seemed to be the name of the game.

  They appeared just as mismatched as Annie and the man next to her, at least on the surface. A cop on disability pay and a multi-billionaire. A multi-billionaire who’d abducted that cop and carried her off to Mexico.

  That shouldn’t have worked out for them. But it had. She wondered if Mel had had the same fears she had now.

  Annie closed her eyes and reminded herself—she was not in a relationship with Turner Barratt.

  And she wasn’t ever going to be. She had to remember that.

  She turned her head, just a little. Just enough to meet his eyes and tell him that. It was best if they just kept out of each other’s orbits. That way, she didn’t do anything totally stupid.

  But his lips were right there.

  73

  He was going to kiss her. Turner wasn’t about to let her go without kissing her. Suddenly, that was the only thing he could think about.

  Kissing Annie. Nothing sounded more right to him than kissing Annie.

  He breathed her name. Just her name. Annie.

  His hand was already on her shoulder; it was so easy to drop it to encircle her waist. She leaned toward him. His other hand rose to cup her cheek.

  And then his lips brushed hers.

  Turner closed his eyes as he pulled the woman he wanted closer.

  Her lips parted beneath his. Turner had never been slow to react when it was necessary. He deepened the kiss.

  Annie released a sound, something between a sigh and squeak. Turner thought it sounded one hundred percent perfect. And he would be the luckiest bastard on the planet if he ever got the opportunity to get her to make that sound in a thousand other ways. A thousand other touches.

  He deliberately kept his movements slowed, unhurried. Annie was skittish.

  Turner had not missed that at all. He didn’t know if it was because she was young and obviously more inexperienced than the women he usually got involved with, or if it was because something had happened to make her afraid of men.

  He suspected it might have been a mix of both. The last thing he wanted was for her to be afraid of him.

  What he wanted to do was yank her into his arms and then devour her. Simple as that. He wanted to consume her, to put his touch on her everywhere. Make it clear to her and anyone else that he, Turner Avery Barratt, had it bad for Annabelle Gaines.

  Hell, he wanted to take out a billboard and show everyone everywhere exactly how he felt about this woman in his arms.

  He was a Barratt, after all. And he wasn’t stupid.

  There was usually truth behind family legends. There was a reason why his family history was littered with men who knew the women they wanted.

  But the ones in the past had known how to go about getting the women they wanted. Turner wasn’t so sure he had that same knowledge.

  One small hand slipped up around his neck.

  And Annie clung to him.

  Turner kissed her as long as she would let him. But the inevitable happened.

  Annie pulled away, shaking her head. “I just can’t do this right now. I’m sorry, but you have to go.”

  Turner nodded and stood. He knew the benefit of a strategic retreat.

  But Annie wasn’t immune to him. Far from it. And that thought gave him hope. It gave him something to look forward to. He walked back toward the community center and his car, actually feeling like he’d taken a few steps forward with her tonight.

  And knowing he wasn’t going to stop.

  74

  “So you’re the next Barratt bride?” Someone slapped a newspaper with a familiar cartoon garlic down in front of Annie. She looked up from where she was sipping the only soda she allowed herself each day. She needed the caffeine. Syrus had kept her up late the night before, suffering from yet another ear infection. He was most likely going to need the tubes in his ears eventually. She needed to have a word with Nikkie Jean about her opinion on that. He just never had been able to handle even the mildest of colds well.

  Jillian and Nikkie Jean stood there, looking at her expectantly.

  “Shhh!” Annie scoped out the cafeteria, reassuring herself that no one was listening to them. “No one knows it’s me. Here, anyway. Yet.”

  “Well, we do. The green scrubs gave you away. Within seconds.” Nikkie Jean sank into the chair across from her. She had a tray laden with food and was eyeing it like she was starving. Jillian had a matching tray. “Not to mention the porch. That thing stands out like Cinderella’s pumpkin.”

  “No kidding,” Jillian added.

  “I love it when Linda works,” Nikkie Jean said, poking a plastic spoon into her chocolate pudding cup. She had two cups on her tray. “Always gives me extra pudding. She likes me.”

  “You mean she gives you extra food without charging you.” Annie’s lips twitched. Linda, who had once worked as an obstetrics dietician, had a soft spot for pregnant women who worked in the hospital. It was well-known.

  “Something like that. She keeps telling me she hopes that if she feeds me enough, I’ll finally grow.” She shot Annie a grin. Nikkie Jean was a bit sensitive about her lack of height, but she hid it with snarky jokes. And she took people’s comments with her characteristic good humor. “I told her I finally am growing. At last. I’m just growing out instead of up. Or…around, rather.”

  “No kidding,” Jillian said, eyeing Nikkie Jean’s bump. Which was quite a bit bigger than her own now. “Are you
sure there’s not more than one in there?”

  “Well...as sure as we can be. I don’t think Caine’s number five is hiding in there. But it’s possible. It would be awesome if there was. And he’s hit doubles before. I’ll need to calculate the odds.” A seriously intrigued look went through Nikkie Jean’s eyes behind the glasses. Today’s had tiny cartoon tornados on each frame. Where she’d found them, Annie didn’t have a clue. She suspected the glasses were custom-made. As were the rest of her ever-changing eyewear. Whereas other women bought jewelry, Nikkie Jean bought eyeglass frames. From somewhere. Annie had never asked.

  Typical Nikkie Jean.

  “I sincerely hope that if there are twins to be born to our men, that it’s you and not me,” Jillian said with feeling.

  “I’m pretty certain it’s just one. We’ll check with the next ultrasound. We’re scheduled for next week.”

  “Still don’t know the sexes?” It was getting close to that point for both, she thought.

  “Hmmm. We know. We’re just not telling,” Jillian said, a secret look in her brown eyes.

  “Can’t tell on Jelly Bean. Baby won’t stay still long enough to get a good shot. But that was at the last checkup. Layla promises she’ll try again next time.” Nikkie Jean waved the paper between them. “But back to this. You are kissing the mayor. Well, if you were aliens, I’d say you were trying to suck his face off and devour him. Doing a good job of it, too. So...spill.”

  “What’s there to say? He walked me home, we talked a bit, sat on the swing, he kissed me. And apparently one of my neighbors decided to make a few bucks selling photos to the Snotty Garlic.”

  And Annie was fighting the anger that brought. The only thing that had saved her from being the talk of the hospital nurses had been the fact that her name had not been mentioned. And Turner’s strong back was to the road, blocking her from the camera.

  “But the orange porch swing is very distinctive,” Nikkie Jean pointed out. “All anyone has to do is drive down Boethe Street and your secret identity will get outed. It may just be a matter of time.”