Wylder Bluffs Firefighters: The Complete Short-Story Collection

by Tarin Lex

  Wylder Bluffs Firefighters

  The Complete Short-Story Collection

  By Tarin Lex

  All Rights Reserved.

  Copyright © 2020 by Tarin Lex.

  No part of this work may be transmitted or reproduced by any means without the express written permission of the author/publisher.

  Published by Tarin Lex.

  Wylder Bluffs Firefighters is a work of fiction. Names, characters, locations, and events are products of the author’s imagination, or used in a fictitious manner.

  Cover by DesignRans.

  Tarin writes short, sexy, romantic stories. She lives in the Big City but she’s a country girl at heart. Tarin’s a sucker for the misunderstood Bad Boy—preferably of the hardworking, tattooed, blue-collar variety—and the big beautiful women who tame them.

  Contents

  1 | Sawyer

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Epilogue

  2 | Atlas

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Epilogue

  3 | Thorne

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Epilogue

  4 | Jason

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Epilogue

  5 | Lukas

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Epilogue

  Bonus Material!

  Finn – a mountain man story

  Chapter One

  1 | Sawyer

  One

  Emily

  “Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!” I swear my five-year-old son, Jake, is my own personal fire alarm.

  “What is it, sweetie?” I call out from the other side of the house. It’s a small two-bedroom Craftsman not far from the downtown Stanberry visitor center. The same house where Alex and Jake and I had just set out on a fresh new start, two years ago. Not even a month after his transfer here, Alex died in a car accident. My only consolation was that it happened fast; he didn’t feel a moment of pain. That, and the fact I still have our son. I’m immeasurably grateful for him every day.

  Jake and I moved back home to live with my mom after that, but recently, we came back to the Wylder Bluffs. The schools are better here, and I still have this house. I’m not broken like I was at first. I intend to make that fresh new start just like we had planned.

  “Jake?”

  “Mommy! They’re here!”

  Already? Shoot. I pull a heather-gray t-shirt dress over my head and put on my usual silver hoop earrings. My hair looks like I just slept on it, which I did, so I pull it back in a messy bun. No makeup, no time.

  Jake’s waiting by the front door with his backpack, lunchbox, and stuffed tiger. “Sticking with your decision to bring Tigey, huh?”

  Jake responds by squeezing him tighter.

  “All right.” I smile at the handsome young man standing right where his father used to, looking so grown up he might as well be twenty-five instead of nearing six. We’ve taken good care of ourselves, so Jake is pretty self-sufficient. Even packed his own lunch for his first day of kindergarten.

  Should we step out, or wait for one of them to ring the doorbell?

  I look through the peephole, suddenly caught off guard by the effect the sight of the truck has on my heart. It’s not like it’s the first firetruck I’ve seen since Alex passed away. Over the last year I’ve even been able to smile as they passed, instead of feeling torn in two.

  The truck’s driver door opens and I step back. They did say they would escort my son for his first day of school. I assume that means they’ll greet him at the front door. My husband had been one of their own—a sergeant—even if only for a month. A fallen comrade; that makes us comrades, too.

  The doorbell chimes a moment later. I open the door.

  A million emotions invade my heart when I see the man on the other side. So reminiscent. He’s a striking sight in his dress-blues, lowering his uniform cap. An unexpected flutter of bees takes flight low in my belly, and I press a hand to it. The man is tall, tan, and barrel-chested, sporting an illegal mustache and beard. It makes me grin. A rebel, huh? His nametag reads, Ct. Stone.

  “Morning, Captain.”

  “Mrs. Davis,” he greets.

  “Ms.”

  He nods once, then smiles at Jake. “You ready to go, Spark?”

  Jake is uncharacteristically quiet.

  “What’s up, kiddo?” I ask.

  His blue eyes dart up toward mine, looking confused. “Is he…Daddy?”

  “Oh.” And just like that, my lungs compress. Jake remembers his father in pictures and stories. He misses Alex, just not the same way I miss Alex. “No, baby. This is Captain Sto—”

  The captain’s down on his haunches in a second. “I’m not your daddy,” he says, softly, “but you know I got to meet him once?”

  “You did?”

  “Indeed, I did. One of the best firefighters I ever worked with. I even rode with him in that very truck. You can call me Sawyer.” He flicks his gaze up to my face. “You can, too.”

  I press my right palm to my chest. Sawyer’s eyes are like warm maple syrup, and very hard not to stare into. Somehow my heart steadies.

  “You wanna go for a ride, Spark?” he says to Jake.

  “Can we turn on the siren?”

  “Just for a second. I’ll let you honk the horn, too.”

  Jake smiles big at that. “Can I wear a real fireman’s hat?”

  “I insist on it,” Sawyer says, haughtily, and fits his hand over my son’s. “I’ll get him there safely, Ms. Dav—”

  “Emily.” I don’t even realize I have tears in my eyes until he’s looking in them again. “And thank you, Sawyer. For everything.” A flash of something like intrigue lights his gaze. Does he realize I’m attracted to him? Warmth rushes to my cheeks at the thought of him knowing.

  I watch them leave.

  On the other side of the closed door, I sink to my knees.

  Fresh, new start. Is that what this is? My god, but that man was ruggedly handsome. I almost feel guilty for finding him so undeniably good-looking, I have to remind myself it’s been two years. There is no such thing as ‘moving on’ from losing your spouse, but I am allowed to have feelings again.

  I just never expected it to feel like this.

  Two

  Sawyer

  I thought I remembered Emily Davis—small, somber woman, dressed in black. Admittedly that was two years ago at the memorial service, I’d never seen her before then, or since. I’d remember if I did.

  Her son rides to school in fascination if not comfort. I keep my promises, loving how his face beams when he blows the horn and we turn on the siren for a couple of seconds, making all the cars around us stop. It’s not a game I love to play, but it makes him happy. “Can we do it again?”

  “No can do, Spark. It isn’t very polite.” I grin at him. I know the ride doesn’t bring his dad back, but the boy’s having so much fun. I lost my dad around the same age Jake lost his. Everyone felt sorry for me at first, which I hated, then everyone seemed to forget about it, which I hated more. It isn’t easier losing someone you never really got to know. I’d have loved something like this—hell, I love it now. Seeing
Jake smile makes me smile.

  At school, the kid makes quite an entrance. The school administration knew what the plan was for this morning, so after we drop off Jake we let the other kids see the firetruck until the opening bell rings.

  “Hey, Spark!” I call out to him as he heads into school, and he turns to look back.

  He waves at me. “Thanks, Sawyer!”

  I hold up the stuffed tiger he brought with him, and Jake blushes. He shakes his head slightly no and I get it. Jake thought he’d need the comfort today, but he’s made immediate friends. I nod in understanding, and wave goodbye.

  “New mascot?” Atlas, my buddy and fellow firefighter, asks me inside the firetruck.

  “Nah. He’ll want this back. Just not in front of all his friends.”

  “I can call Ms. Davis down to the station to come pick it up.”

  “No, man. We don’t need to trouble her.”

  Atlas raises an eyebrow at me, but says nothing. We’re on a first-name basis when no one’s around, our friendship goes way back further than our rank, but he doesn’t outright question my intent. I can tell by his smirk, he’s got some jab on the tip of his tongue.

  “Save it,” I advise.

  He does, for about two seconds. “Isn’t that against some kind of code?”

  “Returning lost property? No.”

  “Falling in love with the sergeant’s wife.”

  “Don’t you have someplace to be?”

  “Sure do,” Atlas says. “Twenty-one hours and counting till the end of my shift.”

  “I’ll drop you off at the station next.”

  Falling in love—now there’s a wild idea. Not one I’ve entertained in a very long time. For a moment Emily arrested me with her beauty, candor, and love for her son. She’s young for a woman who’s been through so much, yet as vibrant and full of life. If I wasn’t questioning my sanity now I’d swear she was also attracted to me. If my buddy caught on that easily, or thinks he did, I’m in trouble. Maybe she hides her brokenness well, or she’s already seeing someone else. Christ. I shouldn’t wonder so much. There’s no actual code that says I can’t ask the woman out. But what will the rest of our company think of me…or her?

  For all those reasons, I’ve set my mind against pursuing her in any form. That is, until I go back and she answers the door. She’s still wearing the same t-shirt dress, hinting at curves that could send any man to his knees.

  “Tigey.” She reaches for the plush toy.

  I hand him to her, and our fingers touch for half a breath that leaves me momentarily breathless. Did she feel the same electric pulse?

  “You’ll be happy to know, Jake practically ran inside the school, he was so happy to be there. Tigey was less enthused about going.”

  Emily’s face is lit with pride, and something else. “He made new friends?”

  “Don’t tell you-know-who,” I say in a low, conspiring voice, “but I think so, yes.”

  “A secret?”

  “Of sorts.” I shrug.

  “Hmm.” She smiles warmly, melting my heart. “Got any more?”

  “Secrets? Well. Just between us…he’s also a bit of a fire hazard.”

  Emily’s laugh is the most beautiful sound, I’m tempted to make more lame jokes to inspire that laugh again. Beneath my pressed blue dress pants, my dick twinges at the impact of the sound. Down, Cap. A woman with a gorgeous smile and laughter as captivating as hers is my most tempting addiction. Or my Kryptonite, depending on the circumstance.

  In this case it’s the latter. “We’re having a barbeque this Friday, families all getting together. You and Jake are welcome to come. You know you’re still—”

  “I know.” Her smile softens into something else. “I’m just not big on, social stuff? I’m more of a stay-inside, get cozy with sweatpants and wine, kind of girl.”

  Paired with her smile, it sounds very much like an invitation. “Red or white?”

  “Shiraz.”

  “My place or yours?”

  “Yours.”

  I waver a moment. Is it my imagination, or are we standing closer than we were before? “I’m obligated to be there Friday…”

  “Saturday, then.”

  “Saturday. I’ll pick you up at?”

  “Seven.”

  Just like that, we have a date. I dip my head reverently, then don my cap. “Emily.”

  “Sawyer.” She rewards me with a grin so alluring it’s difficult to look away. There’s a spring in my step as I walk back to my truck parked at the front of her house.

  I’ll get hell for this.

  But a night with Emily could be heaven.

  Three

  Emily

  “It’s not your first date,” Mom says on the other end of the line. “Nothing to be anxious over. Just be yourself.”

  “Oh what would I do without you and your cliché advice?” I say with an air of drama.

  “No idea, sweetheart. Aren’t you inspired?”

  I can’t help but giggle. “It’s not a date.”

  “D’you get a babysitter?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Buy a new dress?”

  I swallow. “Yeah.”

  “Are you wearing makeup?”

  “No.” We both know that proves nothing.

  “Emily.” When Mom’s voice lowers I know I’m meant to listen closer. “What is the opposite of death?”

  “Life.” Moving. Feeling. Dreaming. Yearning. We’ve had this talk before.

  “Have a good time, sweetheart.” I can picture her smiling into her cell phone. “He sounds like a very nice man.”

  “Thanks, Mom. I will. Love you.”

  “I love you.”

  #

  Sawyer picks me up right on time and takes me for a long drive toward his cabin in the woods. If there’s anything I enjoy more than relaxing at home, it’s long scenic drives like these. I almost forgot how enchanting the mountains are here in Central Idaho. Sawyer’s truck is roomy inside, comfortable. It handles the rugged terrain so well it’s as if he’s driving a Mercedes instead of a four-wheel drive.

  We talk about his family and mine. Our dreams. I tell him stories of Jake, and Alex. He shares some of the drama he sees on the job, and I listen with interest. We laugh. We learn we have several shared interests—Japanese anime films, local travel, Neil Gaiman—random things. Talking to him is easy, but there are long stretches of silence too, which neither of us seem to mind.

  “Getting closer.” Sawyer turns left into the dense, whimsical forest. It’s so vibrant in shades of green, yellow, and red even this late in the evening, it almost looks photoshopped.

  “This drive is half the fun.”

  “Is it?” he asks.

  My breath catches when I see his log cabin ahead, a split-level with big windows and a wraparound porch. My god, how I could just sit right there and read all day. The front door is painted a charming turquoise-blue.

  “Wow.” I realize I’m practically leaning against him when he takes my hand, easily, cocooning it in his bigger, warmer hand.

  “Exactly my thought,” he whispers, “when I first saw you.”

  #

  The man is sheer perfection. He poured me a glass of smooth shiraz while he cooked the best chicken cacciatore I’ve ever tasted. He played some of my favorite songs by Broods and Fismoll and Emilie Kahn. His cabin is cozy, and warm, and I find myself never wanting to leave.

  “Your home is exquisite.”

  “I’m glad you like it. I put a lot of thought into making it perfect. The job keeps me two days on, three days off. Well.” He takes a little sip of wine. “You know that.”

  “Yes, I know.” I smile at him over the rim of my wineglass. Sometimes I think he worries about my state of mind more than he needs to.

  “Would you like to see upstairs?”

  “Love to.”

  I can see the cozy loft bedroom from halfway up the spiral staircase. It’s romantically lit, furnished in darker s
hades of black, brown, and creamy beige. Distracted by the modern decor, and maybe a little bit tipsy from my second glass of wine, I lose my footing, trip, and stumble backward, right into Sawyer’s muscular arms. When I look up, his whiskey eyes enrapture mine.

  “It’s only fair,” Sawyer says, teasingly, “I fell for you.”

  “Did you?”

  “I’m still falling.”

  My heart is beating a mile a minute. Heat cascades down into the cradle of my hips, pinching my core with a sudden burning, raging desire. Is this really happening?

  Sawyer rights me onto my feet, facing him. We don’t stop gazing at each other. I manage a single ragged breath. He has the most seductive, sweet-looking full lips.

  “Sawyer,” I breathe.

  “Emily.”

  God how I want to lock my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist and press my mouth to his, until this neediness he inspires in me goes away.

  “Sawyer, kiss me, so I know you’re real.”

  Four

  Sawyer

  I’m well aware of the line that should not be crossed. It’s just that the line keeps moving a step or two ahead of where I’m at. Now I kind of fancy ignoring the damn line altogether.

  Emily’s more than gorgeous and sweet—she is those things, but there’s something else between us, a connection I’ve never felt with another soul. It’s pleasant, easy, and very exciting. My world rights with her in my house, in my arms. I want her to stay. When I breathe her in—a subtle blend of jasmine and rose—she intoxicates me. I think I’m falling in love with her, and right there—there’s that line I should not cross with Emily Davis.

  Staring up at me, Emily licks her lips and I damn near grown. I hold her upright with one hand on the back of her neck, the other cinched to her waist. I might go up in flames tonight, or she might pulverize me to atoms. “Kiss me, so I know you’re real.” Aw, hell.

  I dip my head, and seal my mouth over hers.

  Emily’s lips form to mine as easily as water sluices stone. I shove my fingers into her hair, tempted to reach for her much lower, and pull her toward me, much closer. Kissing her is like dipping my feet into cool water, hesitant, slow. At first. I pull back by half an inch. Her brows knit together, her green eyes darken and dance, like striated jade. If she so much as hints for me to go again, I’m diving in with both feet.