Flame (Firefighters of Montana Book 5)

by Victoria Purman

  Chapter Nine

  Cady couldn’t help herself. With Dex upstairs taking a shower—she couldn’t think about that too much without breaking into a sweat—she checked out his apartment. It revealed a lot about him, as she surveyed the open plan kitchen and living area. There wasn’t much in it—a masculine, chocolate brown leather sofa seemed to have been his only indulgence, but there were no throw pillows or blankets. A low wooden coffee table that didn’t even have last week’s newspaper or a magazine on it. There were no bookcases, and the only shelving was in the kitchen above one of the countertops, and they didn’t even hold a decorative jug or a matching set of wine glasses or even a bowl.

  The whole place looked the opposite of lived-in—it looked, Cady searched for a word, temporary. As if Dex had planned to live as lightly as possible, so he could, at the drop of a hat, toss all his possessions into his truck and hit the highway at a moment’s notice. Which was so like the Dex she knew. Once a drifter, always a drifter.

  The beef stroganoff was warming in the oven and the rich, meaty scent wafting through Dex’s apartment told her it was almost done. This was just a meal, big enough for two people to share. This was her saying thanks. She didn’t have to talk about the kiss, about the fact he’d apparently kissed her back—how could she not remember that—and then she would go home, because she had to be up at the crack of dawn to bake lovely things for Cady’s Cakes. She opened the oven door, waited for the steam to dissipate and then pressed her right index finger into the top of the dish, judging it still needed a few more minutes and then closed the door.

  *

  When Dex walked back into the living room, Cady had a finger in her mouth and her eyes were closed. He froze. She turned her finger to the left and then to the right and the look on her face was total pleasure, like she was sucking on a piece of the best chocolate and not her finger. He almost lost all his self-control right then and there.

  When she pulled it out—he could have sworn her lips smacked together with a wet pop—she slowly opened her eyes and sighed deeply. What the hell was going on? Cady was in his kitchen. She looked right at home in the space that had never been filled by a female who wasn’t Sarah or Lila. There was dinner and it smelled damn delicious. He didn’t want to think about how many times he’d imagined her there. And that particular wet dream was coming to life right in front of him.

  When she noticed him there, speechless, shirtless, barefoot, wearing only an old pair of jeans that he hadn’t managed to button all the way to the top because he was in such a damn hurry to get back out into the living room to make sure she hadn’t left, her eyes widened and she looked like she didn’t want to smile, but her full lips finally won the battle.

  “It’s not quite hot enough,” she said.

  Man, he liked the look on her face. Her gaze dropped to his chest, flicked back up to his eyes, then dropped down lower to his jeans. He really liked it.

  “You think there’s enough for two?” Dex ruffled the last droplets of moisture from his hair.

  He heard Cady catch her breath.

  “For two?”

  “You are hungry, right?”

  “Well…” She shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, which made her full breasts thrust forward slightly, stretching the second button on her shirt.

  “C’mon, Cady. Stay. Share that meal with me.”

  “Um, sure.”

  “Good.”

  How had he gotten so lucky that Cady Adams was in his house? Every time he looked into her green eyes, he wanted to kiss her again. He remembered every move, every taste, every breath on his lips, like that first one had happened just four minutes before, not four years ago.

  She’d been drunk then, scared of leaving home, nervous about moving away, and clearly not in control of anything she was doing. But she wasn’t drunk now. She seemed in full command of her actions.

  Which was more than could be said for him.

  “Where are your plates?” she asked.

  “Up there.” He moved to her side, reached up into one of the overhead cupboards, took two dinner plates, and set them on the counter, side by side. As he did, his bare arm brushed her shoulder. She didn’t move away. He turned to her. Her lips, pink and lush, like a pale rose, parted and then clamped tight together. She looked straight ahead, right at his pecs.

  “I guess I should go and put a shirt on,” he murmured.

  She bit her lip. “You might get cold.”

  “Not with you in the room.”

  She laughed nervously, shook her head. “You smokejumpers. You’ve all got egos the size of Montana.”

  Dex laughed. “Be right back.”

  *

  She called after him as he took the stairs two by two. “Wouldn’t want any dinner to dribble down on to that chest and cause you any damage.” Cady sighed deep and ragged. Her fingers burned with the need to touch him. If only she could remember the damn kiss, this would all be so much easier.

  If it was a meh, she could share a meal with him, leave and remain friends.

  If it was good, however, if it was blow her head off great, on the other hand, she could maybe kiss him again. Just to be sure.

  Dex came back out to the dining table just as Cady was serving up their dinner. She gave Dex the biggest portion, and he wolfed it down like he hadn’t eaten in days. Well, technically he hadn’t eaten real food in days. When they were fighting fires, the crews survived on trail bars and things they could heat and eat easily.

  When he finally put his fork down, he leaned his elbows on the table and stared at her with a teasing grin. “Cady Adams? I owe you an apology. Here I was thinking all you could do was bake fancy cakes.”

  She chuckled. “Like that’s easy.”

  “Shit, no. That’s not what I meant. This was damn good. What I’m saying is that you’re a woman of many talents.”

  She felt her cheeks heat. “Thank you.”

  “Listen. I have to tell you something.”

  Cady leaned back in her chair, thinking the worst, preparing herself for what he was about to say. She hoped it wasn’t another revelation about her drunken night of stupidity. “What’s that?”

  “The reason I haven’t been in Cady’s Cakes is because I don’t do cakes, cookies, muffins, or anything else.”

  Cady was almost speechless. “You’re kidding me,” she whispered.

  “Not kidding.”

  “How can anyone not like cakes or cookies or muffins? I don’t understand.”

  Dex shrugged. “They’re not my thing.”

  Cady thought that over. “So you haven’t been trying to avoid me because of the embarrassing kiss?”

  “You don’t get it, do you? It wasn’t embarrassing.” He looked at her over the table. His eyes flared. His jaw tensed. “It was…”

  She covered her face with her hands. “Oh, I know. It was terrible. I was drunk and I was a virgin and I’d barely kissed anyone in my whole entire life.”

  Dex held up a hand. “You’re a virgin?”

  Cady snorted. “Past tense, McCoy. I was four years ago. I’m not now, for Pete’s sake.”

  “Back at The Drop Zone, you told me you kissed me because you wanted to fuck someone that night—anyone—so you could lose your virginity before you left.”

  Cady slammed a palm on the table. The cutlery rattled. “Now you see why I’m so embarrassed about it?”

  “Fuck me,” Dex muttered under his breath. “A drunk virgin. Every asshole’s dream date. Luckily, I’m not one.”

  “Hang on; you said you kissed me back.

  “Yeah. I was edging towards asshole but the gentleman in me took over.”

  “Well,” Cady sighed. “We sure as hell ruined our first kiss.”

  Dex stood abruptly, his chair scraping on the tile as he pushed it backwards. Then he’d rounded the table and he was by her side, offering her his hand. “It’s time for a do over.”

  Cady put her hand in his and stood, willing her knee
s not to betray her. She gazed into his eyes and moved in closer. She drew in a breath, ignored the nervous beating of her heart, and slowly, slowly put her lips on Dex’s. She could smell his aftershave and her cheek grazed his jaw. She pressed gently on his mouth, then pulled away, nibbled on his lower lip, biting gently, urging his mouth open. She pressed her palms over his pecs and then trailed them up over his shoulders as she squeezed her breasts against him, and then he responded in the way she hoped he would, wrapping his arms around her waist, lifting her until her butt was on the table, bending her backwards with the force of his strength and the desire and need in his mouth. His tongue teased hers, she teased his back, and Cady could hardly breathe; she was so aroused. She spread her legs and pulled him in close, and he was already hard, pressing against her and, oh, God, Cady knew this was what she’d been waiting for, this kind of kiss, this man, how this felt. If all the missteps she’d made in her life had led to this, she loved every single mistake.

  Dex brought a hand to her breast, cupped her, caressed her hard nipple, so obvious through her bra and her shirt, and she moaned against his lips and finally, had to come up for air.

  Her breathing was fast and shallow. So was his. He brought his forehead to rest against hers.

  “Not bad,” he said, the hint of a laugh on his breath.

  “Yeah. Not bad at all.”

  “Pretty damn good, actually.”

  “Glad we got that sorted.” Cady panted.

  “Proved a point,” Dex replied, his breathing heavy.

  Then Dex let go of her, stepped back, tucked one hand deep in a pocket. Cady pulled her knees together, rearranged her shirt. Their eyes met and held for a long moment. They’d taken a step forward, but neither of them knew exactly where it would lead. If anywhere.

  Dex did that thing with his hair, ruffling it quickly with the palm of his hand. “Thanks for dinner.”

  If Cady thought it had been awkward before with Dex, now it was times ten. “It was nothing.” She checked her watch, glad of an excuse to notice the time. “I’d better go. I’ve got to work in the morning.”

  “You need your sleep.”

  Cady hopped off the table and went to the sofa where she’d dropped her purse. Dex walked behind her as she crossed the room to his front door. She turned. His eyes were on hers.

  “Well, I’ll see you.”

  “I’ll see you,” Dex replied.

  And Cady drove home with a throbbing between her thighs that lasted hours.

  *

  “How can he not like cakes?” The next morning, Cady slipped a red velvet cupcake into a paper bag and pushed it across the counter.

  “He really said that?” Laurel lifted the bag and took a sneaky peek inside. She sighed dramatically.

  “Uh huh. ‘I don’t do cakes.’ Those were his exact words.”

  Laurel smiled wickedly. “Just because he doesn’t do your cakes, doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to do you.”

  Cady knew he did. The kiss yesterday? It was about three seconds away from fucking on his kitchen table. Four years of nothing and then, wham-bam-almost-thank-you-ma’am.

  Cady changed the subject. She didn’t want to be talking about her sex life in her shop within earshot of her customers. “It’s just that I’m not used to people who don’t like cakes. When customers come in here, I offer them a little slice of heaven. Delectable tastes. The scent of cinnamon and chocolate and vanilla and banana. That melt-in-your-mouth feeling that only the best buttery shortbread can give you. The—”

  “Stop!” Laurel held up a hand and squeezed her eyes shut. “It’s hard enough maintaining some self-control with this in my hand. If you keep going, I’m going to scarf this cupcake right now. Don’t say chocolate again, I’m warning you.”

  Cady knew all about self-control. Or, embarrassingly, in her case, her lack of it. She was disciplined in every other part of her life. She’d worked and saved for years to go to the culinary institute. She was up at the crack of dawn six mornings a week to bake. She resisted eating her product if her jeans started to feel a little snug at the hips, and resumed eating them with gusto when they’d become loose again. Discipline. Focus, Determination. All of those attributes seemed to fly out the window when it came to Dex.

  “Now what are you going to do about Dex?”

  “I thought we were talking about cakes?”

  “You were. I wasn’t. Why don’t you just sidle up to him at The Drop Zone and buy him a drink? He may not eat cupcakes—what kind of insanity is that—but I know he likes a drink every now and then.”

  Cady thought about Lauren’s suggestion. Was it really so crazy? She’d kissed Dex and this time she remembered every move, every caress, every moan, and every breath of the way he’d kissed her back. She’d barely slept after she’d got home from Dex’s last night. The taste of his lips had lingered; the strength of his arms around her had imprinted on her like a tattoo. She didn’t think she could wait for him to make the next move or she might spontaneously combust. Yeah. Buy him a drink at The Drop Zone. She could do that. This Saturday night. Yes. That was a plan. And then maybe, for Pete’s sake, they might have sex.

  Laurel was staring at her friend, looking as if she was waiting for an answer to a question Cady hadn’t heard.

  “Huh?”

  “Nothing.” Laurel smirked.

  *

  There was a good crowd at The Drop Zone the next Saturday night when she arrived, after a quiet shift at the station. Cady had spent the entire week thinking over her approach. What to wear. What to say. Her opening lines.

  “How about that big game, huh?” Except she didn’t follow the NFL or the NBA and wouldn’t have been able to follow that up with anything sensible. And the weather, while always a reliable topic in their part of Montana, sounded way too much like the conversation a retired couple might have while pouring out a bowl of bran flakes in the kitchenette of their RV.

  When she saw Dex across the bar, looking way too good in a battered, brown leather jacket and his comfortable old jeans, he was talking to some of his fellow smokejumpers. The funniest thing was, as she made her way down the bar, he turned to look over his shoulder. To her delight, his face transformed into a smile when he saw her. More like a damn sexy grin if she was honest with herself. And that look right there, those sparkling eyes and that hot mouth, tasted better than anything she could ever whip up at Cady’s Cakes.

  Dex turned his body towards her, leaned his elbows back on the bar, and looked her up and down. She’d chosen a Saturday night at The Drop Zone in Kalispell kind of outfit—boots, black jeans, a red shirt, and a denim jacket. He lingered on her red boots for half a second.

  “Hey, Cady.”

  “Dex.” The other guys from the station seemed to disappear and suddenly there was only the two of them at their end of the long wooden bar.

  “Having a night out?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Saturday night’s my only night to cut loose.”

  Dex cleared his throat. “Is that right?”

  Cady took a step closer. She nudged his boot with her own. “So, can I buy you a drink?”

  “Nope.” He shook his head and dipped his gaze.

  “Oh. Right.”

  Then he laughed, deep and throaty, and she felt it deep inside. Like in her ovaries deep inside. For Pete’s sake.

  “And the reason, Cady’s Cakes, is that I owe you one. For dinner the other night.”

  “You don’t need to, but I’d love one.”

  Dex motioned to Hugh who walked down the bar towards them.

  “Hey, young fella,” Hugh said with a hearty bellow. “And good evening, Miss Cady.” He winked at Cady and turned his attention to Dex as he put two tumblers on the bar and poured their shots. “Have I ever told you how glad we all are that you came home to open your shop? That red velvet cupcake you do is… well, the doc says I’m not allowed to have too many but when I do? Boy, oh boy.” Hugh smacked his lips. “Don’t you agree, Dex?”

 
; “Uh. Sure.” He smirked at Cady.

  Hugh was being so obvious she wanted to shrink into a ball of tumbleweed and get blown down the main street like in an old movie.

  “The man who snaps up young Cady here will be the luckiest man in Montana.”

  “Only if he appreciates cakes and pastries, Hugh,” Cady added. “Some men don’t have a sweet tooth, apparently.”

  “Stop talking crazy.” Hugh laughed.

  “It’s a thing. Some men don’t do cakes or muffins of cookies or pastries or even donuts.” She glanced playfully at Dex as she reached for her whiskey.

  He didn’t say a word—just watched her intently—as she upended the glass and swallowed the liquid down in one gulp. It burned sweetly as it went down.

  Dex straightened. “Some men have particular tastes.”

  “Let me know if you need another.” Hugh moved down the bar to serve another customer.

  Cady gripped her empty glass, glad of it in her hand to keep her fingers busy. “And what tastes are they? Let’s see. You’ve ruled out sweet. What about salty?”

  Dex shrugged. “Beer nuts and chips.”

  “Sour?”

  “Lemon.”

  “What about bitter?”

  He thought for a moment. “A woman I dated in Oregon.”

  “You were in Oregon?”

  “I managed a big cattle ranch a few years back. She was the rancher’s middle daughter.”

  Cady didn’t want to hear any more about the rancher’s middle daughter. “Umami?”

  Dex looked confused. “What the hell’s that?”

  “Umami. It’s the most newly defined taste. It’s inspired by Japanese cuisine, and basically means deliciousness. It’s kind of a meaty or savory flavor.”

  “You mean like a steak?”

  “No, more like parmesan cheese. And I mean the real stuff, not the stuff you sprinkle out of a cardboard tube.”

  “Mmm. New tastes can be good, but sometimes it’s the ones you’ve known for a while that turn out to be the best.”

  Cady got the distinct feeling he wasn’t talking about food any longer. But instead of leaning in to continue the thread of the conversation and the promise it held, Dex shifted suddenly and pulled his phone from his jeans pocket.