The Men On Fire: A Complete Romance Series (3-Book Box Set)

by Samantha Christy

  Brett

  Through the baby monitor, I hear Leo stirring. I throw on sweatpants and cross the hall to his room. “Morning, buddy.”

  He stops playing with the stuffed animals in his crib and stands, waiting for me to pick him up.

  I pull him into my arms and give him a hug before putting him on the changing table to get him in a fresh diaper. Leo’s window is next to the table. I peek out, hoping to see her.

  “Binky,” Leo says, reaching toward the crib.

  He calls the pacifier his binky. He never goes anywhere without it. I pick him up and fly him around like an airplane, swooping him down so he can snag the binky. He squeals in delight.

  I stop mid-flight when we pass the window. I stand in front of it and pull the curtains back, checking the view. I know exactly which window is hers. I’ve been in her room. In her bed. In her.

  My cock twitches thinking of it.

  Her curtains are still drawn. It’s early, and the sun isn’t fully up yet. Still, I stare at them, willing them to open. Did she think about me after I left yesterday? She wouldn’t go to dinner with me, not even after what happened. Is she that scared of dating a firefighter?

  I think of her other fears. Tall buildings. Airplanes.

  I used to be afraid of going into tall buildings for the same reason she is. But if I wanted to be a firefighter, I had to get past it. And just like how she went back into the school, the only way to get over fears is to confront them.

  I feel a gnawing in my gut, knowing I want to be the one who helps her do it. But the way she kicked me out yesterday, as comical as it was, I still got the feeling that what happened was a one-time thing.

  As I’m staring at her window, her curtains flutter open and suddenly she’s standing there in a nightgown. She can look anywhere—the street, the sidewalk, the sky—but she looks right at me. I wave, knowing she can see me. She’s obviously surprised to see me standing here looking at her. She pulls her robe around her and backs away. She backs away without acknowledging my wave.

  Does she regret yesterday?

  “Daddy fly,” Leo says, patting my face to get my attention on him.

  “Okay, buddy.”

  I take one last look out the window to see her curtains drawn again. Then I look at my son. “How about we make pancakes today?”

  “Paycakes,” he says in excitement as I fly him into the hall.

  In the kitchen, Bria is sitting at the table drinking coffee with Bonnie.

  “Bia! Bia! Bia!” Leo screams, wiggling out of my arms to run over to his aunt.

  She scoops him into her arms and plants kisses all over his face.

  I love the relationship they have. She’s definitely the “cool” aunt. The one who lets him eat more chocolate than I allow. The one who takes risks and has fun.

  “What are you doing here so early?” I ask.

  “Couldn’t sleep,” she says. “Too excited.”

  “Right. The audition.” I pour myself a cup of coffee and join them at the table. “Tell me how it works.”

  “White Poison is based out of New York. They’re all Brits, but they live here, which is great for me. But unless I make it to the final cut, I won’t even meet them.”

  “How long will the whole process take?”

  “Probably a month or more. They need someone before they go on tour this fall, and I assume they want a month or so of practice. I’d guess they’ll make a decision by the end of August.”

  “When is your first audition?”

  “Next Friday. Will you go with me?” Her eyes are full of hope.

  I run through my schedule in my head. “I’m not on shift, so yes. I’m really happy for you.”

  “I’m not worried about those other ninety-nine singers,” Bonnie says. “You’ll be the best one. I’m sure of it.”

  Bria leans over and gives her a kiss on the cheek. “You’re my biggest fan, Bonnie.”

  “I think I’m your second biggest,” she says, looking at me.

  “Paycakes,” Leo says.

  Bonnie starts to get up from the table, but I put a hand on her arm to stop her. “I’m making breakfast today. You enjoy your coffee.”

  Bria puts Leo into his highchair and then helps me with the pancakes. “So,” she says quietly, looking at Leo out of the corner of her eye, “heard from Momzilla lately?”

  I laugh at her nickname for my ex. “Not since Leo’s birthday.”

  She shakes her head. “I can’t believe she’s okay with missing so much.”

  “At this point I’m surprised he even knows she’s his mother.”

  “The only reason he does is because of you. I’ve seen you show him pictures of her and talk about her like she’s not the bitch who abandoned you both. You’re a saint, big brother.”

  “I’m no saint, Bria. I just hope that one day—”

  She grabs my arm, almost making me spill the pancake batter. “You’re not still thinking she could come back and be a part of your life, are you?” She whispers so Leo can’t hear. “Tell me you wouldn’t take her back.”

  I look over at Leo, saddened that he has to grow up without a mother. I’ve often thought about what I would do if Amanda came back, wanting a second chance. What if she really was suffering from post-partum depression, and that’s what made her pull away from us? Then I think of the two years of hell she put us through. Leo and I are better off without her.

  “I wouldn’t take her back. But I do want her to be a part of Leo’s life. She was a good person once. I think she could be a good mother if she put some effort into it.”

  “You’re a better man than anyone I know,” she says. “If it were me, I wouldn’t even let her see him.”

  I flip the pancakes. “She’s the only mother he’ll ever have.”

  “That’s not true,” she says. “If you get married again, he’ll have a new mom. Hey, speaking of that, how’d your date with the hot teacher go?”

  “You’re getting way ahead of yourself, Bria. It wasn’t a date.”

  “But you wanted it to be.”

  “It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t date firefighters.”

  She looks at me like what I said was crazy. “Who doesn’t date firefighters?”

  “Someone who’s dad was a firefighter.”

  “Was?” she asks tentatively.

  “She lost him on 9/11.”

  Bria backs up and slumps against the counter. “Oh, Brett.”

  My sister was only three years old when Mom died. She has no recollection of that day, or the bad times after. She was raised by a single father and her older brother, having little memory of what it was like to have a mother.

  I glance at Leo who is banging his toddler-sized fork on his tray. “Okay, buddy.”

  I put two pancakes on a plate and cut up a third into small pieces. Then I serve Bonnie and Leo. Bonnie is busy having a conversation with him about the different phases of the moon. I love that she talks to him like an adult.

  Bria is pouring the second batch of pancakes when I return to the stove. “Maybe that’s your connection,” she says, thoughtfully watching the pancakes until they start to bubble.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You know, the thing that ties you and Emma together. You both lost a parent in the same disaster. Not to mention that you’re both single parents. And you went through the hostage thing together. You have a lot in common.”

  “None of that matters if she won’t go out with me.”

  “That’s a shame,” she says. “I was hoping she’d be the one to pop your post-divorce cherry.”

  Until yesterday with Emma, it had been almost a year since I’d been with anyone and well over two years since I’d been with a woman who wanted me. Amanda and I had sex sometimes after Leo was born. But every time, I felt like it was just a chore for her. Something she needed to check off her list as a weekly or monthly obligation like picking up toothpaste or making a dental appointment.

  But yesterda
y, with Emma—Jesus, I never remember it being like that. Not even when Amanda and I first got together.

  Bria is staring at me with her mouth open. She flips the pancakes onto a plate and pulls me into the hall. “Oh, my God. You slept with her.”

  I sigh and lean against the wall.

  “Don’t try and look all innocent with me, Brett. You had sex with the teacher, didn’t you?”

  “It’s not a big deal. It was a one-time thing. She kicked me out right after.”

  “She kicked you out? Were you that bad?” she jokes.

  “Very funny. Her daughter was coming home, and she didn’t want her to see me there.”

  “Ooo, a clandestine affair. How exciting.”

  “Like I said, it won’t happen again.”

  “So, you’re just going to give up? Roll over and die because she claims she won’t date a firefighter? That doesn’t sound like the big brother who raised me to go after everything I wanted. Do you know why I’m auditioning to be the backup singer for White Poison? Because of you. You taught me never to give up on my dreams.”

  I’m full of pride for my little sister. The things she had to overcome to get where she is today. I swallow the lump in my throat. I blinked and she became this amazing woman. “I’m so damn proud of you,” I choke out.

  “We both deserve to do incredible things with our lives. We deserve to be happy. Go after what makes you happy, Brett. Don’t let her silly little rules get in the way. Show her you’re good for her.”

  “I’m not sure I know how. It’s been almost a decade since I’ve dated.”

  She hooks an arm through mine and drags me back to the kitchen. “I’m practically an expert on dating. I’ll give you some tips over breakfast.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Emma

  I wonder if he’ll show up today. I know it was bad, the way I kicked him out on Friday. But what choice did I have?

  Anxious and on edge, I roll over in bed and pull a pillow over my head.

  He’ll show up. Somehow, I know that Lt. Brett Cash is a man who always shows up.

  The thought of seeing him again makes my insides burn.

  I made excuses to look out the window at least a dozen times over the weekend. Seeing him standing there, bare-chested and holding his son, was … awe-inspiring. But I took great care after that first time, not to be seen doing it. I don’t want to give him the wrong idea. He’s a nice guy. A hero even. But the last thing I want or need is another hero in my life.

  Still, I feel bad about how I pushed him out. I hop out of bed, bypassing the window altogether because it’s too dark outside to see anything anyway. Besides, he’s at work. I go downstairs and page through my recipes until I find the perfect one.

  Two hours later, I take my peace offering to the firehouse.

  “Yes!” someone shouts when I’m seen with my bounty. “We weren’t sure you were coming back.”

  I have an urge to turn around and run away. Did Brett tell them what happened between us?

  Brett steps forward, sensing my unease. “He means since you went back into the school.” He looks at me guiltily. “I hope you don’t mind that I told them about our going there. They saw you sitting on the bench.”

  “Great job, Emma,” one of the guys says, offering me a fist bump. “Way to kick fear’s ass.”

  I try to gauge the sincerity on his face, and I could be wrong, but I really do think that he’s just talking about the school. I bump my fist to his. “Thanks, uh …”

  “Denver,” he says. “Denver Andrews. I know a little something about conquering fears, so I understand it’s not an easy feat. We’re all happy for you.”

  “Thanks, Denver.”

  Brett watches as some of the guys congratulate me. I wonder what he thinks about my showing up here today. I need to make sure he understands it’s an apology, not an invitation.

  “Wait here,” Brett says when his shift comes to an end. “You can come to the hardware store with me to pick up the supplies to fix your door.”

  “I’m buying,” I say.

  He gives me a scolding look. “It was my fault, Emma. I’m paying for the repairs.”

  “You were saving me, Brett.”

  “It’s not up for negotiation.”

  I roll my eyes at him. “Okay then. I’ll meet you out front.”

  “I know where to find you,” he says with a wink.

  I walk to our bench, thinking he shouldn’t be winking at me. And further, I shouldn’t be getting that feeling in the pit of my stomach when he does. I don’t know what I was thinking coming here. I should stay far away from Brett Cash and his winking, and his inviting green eyes, and his heroic tendencies.

  “Ready?” he asks, walking up with a duffle bag over his shoulder.

  I stand. “Before we go, there’s something I want to tell you. I, uh, wanted to say I was sorry about how we left things on Friday. I … I hope we can still be friends.”

  “Friends?” he says with a raised brow. “Haven’t we crossed that threshold, Emma?”

  I flush, recalling just how far across that threshold we went. “About that. I really think it’s best we just be friends.”

  He studies me for a second. I’d give anything to know what he’s thinking. “And I think it’s best we get your door fixed. Let’s go.”

  And just like that, it’s as if Friday never happened. I’m glad he’s not going to harp on it and think that because we had sex once, it makes me his girlfriend.

  My breath hitches. Girlfriend. It’s not a title I’ve possessed in over twelve years. It’s not one I’ve wanted. So why, when I think of the word, do I have flashbacks of him on top of me?

  An hour later, I’m making a pot of coffee as Brett hammers away at my front door. I try to keep myself busy so I don’t notice the way his arm muscles bulge as he works. Or the way the back of his shirt is damp with sweat. When did sweat become so sexy?

  He puts the last coat of paint on the door jam and sits on the bottom step. “This will need a few hours to dry. Don’t close the door fully, or it’ll get stuck and you’ll rip the paint off.”

  “Got it.”

  “I could stay if you want, since you can’t close and lock it.”

  “I’m a big girl, Brett. I think I’ll be okay.”

  He stands up and puts his tools away. “Is there anything else that needs fixing while I’ve got my tools here?”

  “I don’t think so, not unless plumbing is one of your hidden talents, too.”

  “What’s the issue?”

  “You really want to know?”

  “I dabble in a lot of things, Emma. Show me what you need.”

  He follows me into the kitchen, and I show him the problem with the faucet. We clear out the cabinet under the sink, and he lies on his back and takes a look. As he’s messing with the pipes, his shirt rides up and I see a strip of his abs. Oh, God. Why did I bring this up?

  “Emma?” He scoots out a little and looks at me.

  I’ve been caught gawking and turn beet red. “What?”

  “Can you hand me the wrench?” he says, trying to hide a smile.

  I fish around in his toolbox until I find one, then hand it to him. “I’ll be right back,” I tell him.

  I leave but I don’t go far. I stand in the hallway and sink against the wall, needing a break from all the sexiness.

  When I hear the faucet running, I go back in.

  “All done,” he says.

  “Wow. I don’t know what to say. You really are a Jack of all trades, aren’t you?”

  “Say you’ll go to dinner with me.”

  I shake my head. “I’m not going on a date with you.”

  “Not a date. An exercise.”

  I cock my head. “Exercise?”

  “Have you ever been to Seasons Twenty-one?”

  “The restaurant across the bridge on the twenty-first floor?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “I told you I don’t go into tall bu
ildings.”

  “Thus, the exercise.”

  It finally dawns on me what he’s doing. “You don’t need to save me from everything, you know. I’m perfectly fine living my life on the ground floor. I suppose after that you’ll want to take me up in a plane. Oh, God, you’re not a pilot, are you?”

  He laughs. “No. Come on. It’s just dinner. And it’s a great restaurant. You know you can do it. You went into the school. It’s only twenty-one floors. It’s not even a high-rise.” I’m about to say no when he hits me with, “Consider it payment for fixing your sink.”

  Well, shit. I exhale deeply. “You are not kissing me when we get to the top.”

  “Deal. Pick you up at seven?”

  “No. I’ll meet you there.”

  “How about we meet at the corner and catch a cab together?”

  “Meet me in the lobby, or no deal,” I say, not wanting to give him the wrong idea.

  Toolbox swinging from one hand, he moves to the front of the house. “You drive a hard bargain, Miss Lockhart.”

  My stomach does a flip when he calls me that. I hold the door open for him. “See you at seven.”

  “Remember, don’t close it yet. Put a shoe in it to remind you. And don’t go upstairs until you can lock it.” He nods to Evelyn’s bedroom door near the bottom of the stairs. “Is that your study? Maybe you could hang out in there while the paint dries.”

  “That’s my daughter’s room.”

  His feet shift uncomfortably. It’s amusing how he’s worrying about me. “I really hate the idea of you leaving the door open for a few hours. Why don’t you find me a hair dryer so I can—”

  “Brett, it’s fine. Go.”

  “Are you kicking me out again?” he jokes.

  “See you at seven,” I say.

  I watch him walk down the front steps before I retreat into the foyer. On the sidewalk, he turns back. I take off my shoe and melodramatically put it against the frame. He laughs and runs across the busy street, dodging cars along the way.

  I duck into Evelyn’s room and peek out the window, wondering how he’s lived there for two years, and I haven’t noticed him.

  Then again, it’s easy to miss things when you aren’t paying attention.