by Tawna Fenske
He couldn’t have broken eye contact if someone ripped his eyelids off with pliers, so he was glad she did first. Her gaze dropped down his torso and stayed there, eyes flickering with interest. Had he spilled food on his shirt?
“Oh.” Right. His shirt was still serving as a mask, leaving his chest bare.
The hunger in Willa’s eyes made him want to leave it there all night, but he yanked down the hem so he could look like a gentleman in this fine-dining establishment. He set down the fire extinguisher, too, as the chef stepped forward to shake his hand.
“Dinner’s on the house tonight, son—”
Screeeeeeeeech!
The chef blanched, then yanked his hand back and ran for the kitchen. Grady glanced at the waitress, who’d gone considerably paler.
“Just a hunch,” he said, “but I’m guessing dinner just got charbroiled.”
The waitress nodded. “Good guess.” She offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry about your romantic dinner.”
“It’s okay.” Willa stepped closer and gave him a wink. “The night’s not over yet.”
Grady had to breathe deeply to keep his chest from exploding with excitement and lust and a healthy helping of pride.
“How about I make sure the kitchen’s not on fire?” he said. “And then we continue our date night somewhere else.”
Willa smiled, her green-brown eyes flashing. “Deal.”
…
An hour later, Grady shoved half a slice of pizza into his mouth. The crust was garlicky and crisp, with gooey cheese oozing off the edges. “Best idea ever,” he said around a mouthful of pepperoni.
Willa laughed and tossed him a napkin. “Probably should have started out here.”
He could tell that wasn’t a jab at his date-planning skills, so he didn’t take it as one. Dinner at Briana’s wasn’t a bad idea, but this was better. Lounging on Willa’s sofa with their sock-clad feet side by side on her coffee table was a damn fine way to end the night.
The television blared reruns of Whose Line Is It Anyway? which was pretty much his favorite show. She’d been the one to pick it, flicking the remote until she found the right channel. He liked that they had this in common.
Grady grabbed the napkin and wiped his fingers one at a time. “Would you really have been into it if I’d suggested lounging in pajamas at your place for a first date?”
Willa chewed her bite of pizza and looked thoughtful. “Maybe. It would have given Stevie a chance to check you out and make sure you’re not an ax murderer.”
Hearing his name, the spotted white greyhound mix heaved himself off the dog bed beside the window and lumbered over to them. The dog looked like a cross between a giraffe and a lean polar bear, and Willa held out a piece of Canadian bacon for him.
“Good boy.” Stevie bumped the edge of the coffee table with his leg and snuffled at the arm of the couch before locating the scrap she held out to him. He gobbled it down, then nosed Grady in search of more.
“It must be tough having a blind dog.” Grady patted Stevie’s rump as the pup’s cloudy eyes fixed sightlessly on the pizza box. His sniffer worked just fine.
“He can see some shapes and light, I think,” she said. “The vet says his vision is probably like if you took a pair of sunglasses and smeared the lenses with a thick coat of Vaseline.”
Grady reached out to scratch behind the dog’s ears. “He gets around pretty well, considering.”
“He’s learned to trust me.” Willa reached out to scratch the dog’s other ear, earning a groan of pleasure from Stevie. “I have a special short leash that makes it easier to go on walks, and he knows I’m not going to run him into any trees or telephone poles.”
“Smart dog.” Grady was only just getting to know Willa, and he could already tell she was one of the most trustworthy people he’d met.
“The three-legged cat, on the other hand,” Willa continued, “has been a challenge. The litter box thing took ages to figure out. And the deaf cat has her own set of issues.”
Grady snorted. “You have a deaf cat and a three-legged cat?”
She nodded around another bite of pizza. “Earmuff and Wheelbarrow,” she said. “Barrow for short. They’re around here somewhere.”
He shook his head in amazement as he grabbed another slice of pizza. “That’s impressive,” he said. “So you’re a rescuer.”
Willa shrugged. “They’re the animals who needed homes the most,” she said. “I happen to have a home.”
She was so matter-of-fact about it that Grady might have thought it didn’t matter. But it did matter. He’d seen the way she snuggled and cooed at Stevie when they’d arrived, prompting the dog to flop at her feet and groan in adoration. And she’d refused to sit down and eat until Stevie was fed and watered and had all his meds on board.
That was love. And seeing what it looked like in Willa made him even more interested in her. True, the fire had made for a bumpy first half of the date. But this… This was nice.
Way better than nice.
“Do you have any unbroken animals?” he asked.
“A beta fish named Carl,” she said. “Well, he’s unbroken now. He had his tail chewed to shreds by another beta, but it healed up once I got him out of that pet store. He sits on my desk when I’m working.”
“Rescuer,” Grady said again, more definitively.
“Human,” Willa countered.
Grady shrugged, then bit into his next slice of pizza and surveyed the living room, trying to figure out what her home said about her. The little midtown bungalow was small but immaculate. The furniture showed its age, though someone had taken very good care of it. Every chair, every end table, looked like it had been polished and buffed and lovingly upholstered to be the very best version of itself.
The leather sofa where they sat was worn, but in a way that made it soft and smooth. The cushions wrapped around them like a hug, and Willa had dotted the corners with turquoise throw pillows and a bright-orange afghan draped over the back.
Grady returned his attention to Willa, who was a lot more interesting to look at than furniture. She’d changed out of her dress and into pale-blue leggings and a yellow tank top. He’d never say this to her, but she looked even hotter like this than she had in the fancy dress. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, and it was possible she’d ditched the bra when she ducked into her bedroom to change. He was trying not to stare.
“Can’t say I’ve ever had a first date that involved a fire extinguisher,” he said, biting into his slice of pizza. “Definitely one of my most memorable.”
“The secondary grease fire was a nice touch,” she said. “Too bad about the waitress’s eyebrows.”
“Sometimes casualties can’t be helped.” Grady polished off his pizza and wiped his hands on a napkin. “So have I earned a second date?”
Bored with the conversation and lack of pizza, Stevie the blind dog trudged away and settled onto his bed in the corner. Willa took another bite and made a big production of pretending to consider the question.
“Hmm.” She finished chewing. “Pleasant conversation: check. Good meal: check. First-date heroics: check. I’d say your second date odds are good.”
He laughed and reached for another slice. “You’re a fan of heroics. Good to know.”
“Only when well executed,” she said. “And they have to be the right kind of heroics. If you’d gone around beating your chest over getting a good parking spot, I’d have been less impressed.”
Grady gave her a grave nod. “How about opening a tight jar lid?”
Willa shook her head, lips twitching the way they seemed to when she fought back a smile. “Nope.”
“Pulling on a black shirt without getting deodorant marks on it?”
She giggled, and it was the best damn sound Grady had ever heard. “Not heroic enough.”
&nbs
p; Grady pretended to frown. “How about replacing the toilet paper and making sure it’s going the correct way.”
Willa lifted one brow. “Which direction—over or under?”
“Over, of course,” he said. “What do you think I am, a savage?”
She laughed and shook her head. “That’s certainly heroic, but no,” she said. “Only true heroism counts. Like what you did tonight.”
His ego shouldn’t love that, but it did. So did the rest of him. “Good thing I paid the waitress to light the table on fire,” he mused. “That was money well spent.”
She laughed and tucked some stray hair behind her ear. “Well done, Smokey. Don’t feel like you need to replicate it. I’d rather keep my furniture unburned.”
“Noted.” He picked up the bottle of beer she’d found for him in her fridge. It was an IPA, one of his favorites, but Willa was sticking to soda.
She nodded at the empty bottle. “You want another one?”
“I’m good.” More than good with Willa cozied up next to him, so close her thigh brushed his. He wouldn’t have minded another beer, but no way in hell did he want to lose the warmth of her body.
He glanced at his watch, grateful he didn’t have to be at the base tomorrow. Three whole days off. It seemed like a luxury. Maybe he could sleep in.
When he looked up again, Willa was watching him. “Watching” wasn’t the right word. Studying, like she was trying to peer inside his skull. He remembered their conversation back at the restaurant, the one about flaws. He hadn’t ever answered, had he?
“I’m not good at saving money.”
Willa blinked. “What?”
“That’s one of my flaws.” He tossed the napkin into the empty pizza box, then shifted on the couch so they faced each other. “I make decent money doing what I do, and the benefits are solid. That’s an upside of a government job with the Forest Service.”
“Okay,” she said, tense all of a sudden.
“It’s not like I have tons of debt or anything, but I’m not a great saver,” he said. “I know I should be socking cash away in a money market account or something, and I know I should have a better plan for my future. I can’t be a smokejumper forever.”
Willa nodded. Her eyes held his, but they seemed guarded now. Shit, had he said too much? He was just trying for honesty, trying to spell out his faults as best he could.
“I’m sort of the opposite,” she said. “A neurotic saver. A tightwad.”
He waited for her to say more, but that was it. She wasn’t meeting his eyes anymore, and he sensed he’d hit a tender spot. Something she didn’t talk about with many people. Was this why she’d wanted to order the cheaper wine? And he’d kept pushing her, thinking she was just trying to be nice because he was paying. Apparently it went deeper than that.
Way to kill the first-date vibe, asshole.
But then she looked up at him and offered a small smile. “Probably a good thing we’re only having two dates.”
“Why is that a good thing?”
“Because we’d argue all the time about whether to go out for fancy meals or stay in and cook Top Ramen.”
“Please.” Grady snorted. “For most of the year, I eat Spam and freeze-dried meals out in the field. I can handle Top Ramen just as well as a fancy meal, as long as the company’s good.”
“And is it?” She held his eyes like this was a real question. Like she truly wanted to know.
“Tonight?” He set his empty bottle on the coffee table. “This goes down in my book as one of the top first dates in history.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
She seemed to hesitate, dropping her gaze for an instant. When she looked at him again, something shifted. “Same,” she said. “You’re good company.”
Well, that was something. A start. Not a promise of more than two dates, but why the hell would he want that? She was every guy’s dream—the chance to have a nice time with a beautiful woman without being pulled down by the anchor of commitment.
How many times had he wished for exactly what Willa was offering? No strings, just a few good dates and then gone. He should be ecstatic. He should be putting the moves on her. He should be wooing her with stories about what a hero he was and—
“I’m an asshole in the morning,” he blurted out.
So much for wooing. Or heroics.
Willa lifted an eyebrow. “What?”
“That’s another one of my flaws,” he said. “I’m a sound sleeper, and I hate waking up. Until I’ve had at least two cups of coffee, I’m like a grizzly bear with its leg caught in the door.”
She laughed and set her soda down on an end table. “Good to know.” She shifted on the couch, bringing one knee closer to his. He could touch it if he wanted to. Just reach over and cup her knee through the thin cotton of her leggings. He ached to do it. Just slide his hand up and—
“I mean, it really is handy information.” Her voice had turned husky, and he looked up to see an unexpected heat in her eyes. “In case we ever have occasion to wake up together.”
Holy shit.
Grady swallowed, not 100 percent sure he was reading this right. He could be a presumptuous asshole sometimes, which he probably should have listed as one of his faults.
“I didn’t mean to imply—”
That’s all he croaked out before Willa leaned in and kissed him. It started slow and gentle, giving him a chance to pull back if he wanted.
Like hell.
His response was primal. He forked a hand into her hair, kissing her hard and deep and leaving no question how much he wanted this. Wanted her.
Somehow, his hands found their way to her waist, and then he was lifting her up and pulling her onto his lap. She came willingly, thighs falling open on either side of him as she shifted so her perfect ass settled on his lap. He cupped it through her leggings, tracing the edge of her thong with his thumb. He must have been very, very good in some past life, because God, she felt amazing.
“Willa,” he groaned against her mouth, and it sounded more like a desperate sigh. She murmured something back, circling her hips to grind against him. The leggings were so thin, he could feel the heat at her center, could sense her need as burning as his own.
He kept kissing her, tasting grape soda and spice and the low simmering passion he’d felt stirring in her all night. If Willa Frank was serious about the two-date thing, she sure as hell made every date count.
Lucky him.
“You feel unreal.” He broke the kiss to get those words out and to kiss his way down her throat. Her silky skin rippled under his tongue as she let her head fall back. He licked the hollow of her throat, hungry to taste more of her. To have his mouth on those lush breasts he’d been admiring all night.
She clutched the back of his head with an urgency he could read like subtitles on a skin flick. She wanted this as badly as he did.
“Grady,” she said, and his name was a hungry growl. He peeled the straps of her tank top down both shoulders, baring her to him. What perfect breasts. Round and full and exactly the right size to cup in his hands. Her nipples pebbled with his breath, then tightened as he swirled his tongue around one and then the other. He moved between them, growing dizzy with sensation and heat and the haze of his own need. Fuck, she tasted sweet.
“More,” he growled, gripping her hips.
She gave a soft squeak as he lifted her off his lap and eased her back onto the couch. Her hair fell over one eye, and she peered at him through the golden-brown curtain, looking rumpled and hungry and thoroughly debauched.
“I like where this is going.” She grinned at him, tossing her hair.
“So do I.” Boy, did he.
He gripped the waistband of her leggings, drawing them slowly down her thighs. Her panties came along for the ride, baring her inch by glorious inch.
Jesus, her skin was flawless.
He paused with the fabric bunched at her ankles, giving her a chance to halt things, to tell him he was moving too fast. He could slow it down if he had to. Hell, he could take all night.
All fucking night.
Willa tossed her hair again, letting her thighs fall apart. “I want you.”
Or that.
Grady’s mouth watered. He wanted her, too. Her sex was slick with the same need that had his cock straining at the front of his jeans. He’d never seen anything so fucking beautiful in his life.
Part of him wanted to rip the condom out of his wallet and bury himself to the hilt in ten seconds. The other part of him wanted to hit the slow-mo button, to savor her for hours…days, even.
Somewhere in the middle felt just about right. If their time together had an end date, he’d damn well make every minute count.
“I want to taste you.” He tossed the leggings aside, checking to make sure he hadn’t thrown them over a candle or hit a cat or something. It’d be just his luck after how the evening started. The urge to devour her overpowered him, and he was having trouble seeing straight. The only thing he wanted in the world was to bury his face between her thighs, then the rest of him if she was down with that.
He shouldered her thighs apart, lunging for her like a starving man.
“Oh, fuck, Grady.” She gripped the back of his head, clutching at his hair as he stroked the length of her with his tongue.
He ordered himself to tease, to take it slowly. But Christ, she tasted so sweet. And the way she was moving, arching her back like she was fucking his mouth. He couldn’t get enough.
“That’s it,” he murmured as he teased her clit, gripping her hips as she bucked against him. “Show me how you like it.”
She liked it fast and hard, apparently, and Grady was glad to oblige. Thrilled to devour her with the sort of hunger he couldn’t hide if he wanted to. He sucked her soft folds, committing everything to memory. Her taste, her scent, the feel of her in his mouth. Everything.
