by Anne Marsh
Katie was gorgeous, sexy as hell and, yep, still completely off-limits. That crazy bucket list project? He got it. She wanted to do what Kade would have done. Well, Kade wouldn’t have kissed him, Tye knew that for certain. Keeping his hands to himself would be a challenge but he was a Navy SEAL and difficult was his specialty.
“If you change your mind, there’s a permanent place for you on the jump team,” Jack volunteered. “We could use another good man and you know your way around a plane. Spotted Dick bought himself a place down in Belize.”
Tye wasn’t a good man.
“Retirement property?” He had no idea how old Spotted Dick was, but the guy had clearly seen more than one firefight. He would have pegged him for the kind of guy who fought until the end though.
“Bone fishing.” Jack grinned. “He wants the odd week off here and there. I don’t think anyone could get him to pack it in permanently.”
Tye could sympathize. Parking his ass on a beach and watching the waves come in and go out seemed like a life sentence of boredom. Pass.
“I appreciate the offer.” Tye turned to face the fire. The flames looked shorter, right? Not quite as hungry? Jack seemed satisfied, however.
“That’s not a yes.”
Okay. Jack might be satisfied with the fire’s progress, but with this conversation? Not so much.
“Nope.” Part of him wished the next word out of his mouth could be that yes.
Jack Donovan fell into step beside him and they walked the line together in silence, assessing the fire’s progress. Even Tye could see that the flames had stopped their urgent forward movement. There were no obvious breaks or hotspots. The dirt line the jump team had carved inches deep into the topsoil had done the trick. They’d jumped in to get there first—and fast. The Big Bear Rogues would come up the fire roads as far as they could and then pack in. Those hotshots would knock the fire down the rest of the way.
“Think it over,” Jack said when they turned to head back to the team. “My offer stands, for the summer at least.”
The deafening beat of the chopper coming in overhead made answering unnecessary. The bird descended carefully until it hovered just above the ground, sending a blast of hot, ash-filled air over the group.
“Did someone call a taxi?” Evan roared loud enough to be heard over the chop, motioning for the team to pile in. That sounded good to Tye. Right now, he was jonesing for a hot shower, some food, and his pillow. He helped the guys toss packs through the open bay door, then scrambled aboard, hooking his fingers through the webbing on the wall to lean back out the open door and score a last look at the fire as the pilot took them up and through the pall of smoke, swinging over the mountainside and headed for home. Airborne, they shot through the bright blue of the morning sky.
“We got her contained.” Evan high-fived his brother and settled into a yelled recap of the fire’s trickier moments.
Opting out of the highlights reel, Will Donegan elbowed Tye. “You got your truck back at base? Can I bum a ride into Strong?”
“No problem.” He didn’t feel like being alone anyhow. A ride-along in his cab would be welcome. “You didn’t drive?”
Below them, the dark green tops of pines poked up out of puffy white smoke. If it hadn’t been for the spot fires burning merrily, the scene below could have been one of those Christmas displays with cotton-ball snow.
Will grinned. “My wife has the truck, but she’s not driving it home. Sunday morning mimosas with the girlfriends,” he explained, when Tye raised a brow. “Good times, but I’ll be lucky if she’s walking straight.”
Tye decided not to weigh in on that one. Ten minutes later and Strong came in sight as the chopper neared the airstrip. Home.
Just for the summer, he reminded himself.
Don’t get used to it. Don’t put down roots. He’d ship out in September and this would all be over.
***
When Katie got home from church on Sunday morning, Abbie and Laura were already parked on the front porch. They’d had the same Sunday morning ritual for the last four years and nothing—certainly not marriage or men—would change that, they’d promised each other.
“You got the goods?” Laura’s gaze went straight to the plastic grocery bag Katie was schlepping.
“You bet.”
Every Sunday morning, they toasted the previous week with mimosas after church (or drank their consolation prize, as Laura had pointed out after more than one bad week) and devoured one of those tubes of frozen cinnamon rolls. None of them was much of a cook but Pillsbury rocked their worlds.
Since it was her turn to “cook,” Katie headed inside, set the oven and pop-pop-popped the cinnamon rolls onto a cookie sheet. The ETA to delicious gooey goodness was twenty minutes. She eyed the stove. Or maybe she’d give it twenty-three because she was in no mood to wait for the oven to warm up. She shoved the goods into the stone-cold oven, set the timer, and headed back on out to the porch.
“Have a seat.” Abbie patted the Adirondack chair to her left. “Tell me that you have stories, because Laura here is coming up dry.”
That was unusual. Between the highway accidents she cleaned up as an EMT and the shenanigans her fellow EMTs got up to, Laura was usually better than reality T.V.
Laura shrugged. “So everyone drove safe this week and the guys behaved themselves. Unfortunately, it won’t last.”
Laura passed her a mimosa made from the bottle of sparkling wine—none of them had the budget for the real stuff—parked in a plastic bucket full of ice by her feet. Asking where the bucket had come from was probably unwise, but Katie was almost certain she’d never filled it up with Pine-Sol, so as long as she didn’t lick the bottle, she was probably safe. Sometimes Laura took practical to a whole different level.
“So we’re counting on you for exciting updates.” Abbie made a give-it-up gesture. “Don’t disappoint.”
“I think I assaulted Tye,” she said glumly.
Abbie snorted mimosa out of her nose and Laura tossed her a roll of paper towels.
“Either you did or you didn’t.” Laura took a swig of her own drink. “There’s not too much grey area.”
“Are we talking—” Abbie punched the air with her fists. “Or...” She blew an air kiss.
“The latter. The former. Merde. How come I can never keep straight which is which? I kissed him.”
Abbie and Laura traded looks.
“You don’t look surprised.”
Tye had, though. Right before he’d really, really gotten into kissing her back—and before he’d removed her mouth from his.
“On a scale of one to ten, how hot was the kiss? What?” Laura asked when Abbie smacked her. “That’s relevant information. It leads to the whole was it an assault or not? question.”
“I have a hard time imagining Tye Callahan being a bad kisser.” Abbie grinned. “And I’ve had a damned good time imagining it.”
Laura eyed her. “You know, you really don’t act married.”
“Again, I’m married, not dead.” Abbie shrugged. “Will knows he’s the best. When I compare him to others, I appreciate him even more.”
“Whatever.” Laura shook her head and topped off her plastic flute. “Good thing I’m off duty today because I’m ninety eight percent certain my BAC just passed the legal limit.”
“I kissed him,” Katie admitted. “So his skills don’t really come into it.”
Abbie turned to Laura. “How good of a kisser is Katie?”
“Hell if I know.” Laura kicked her steel-toes up on the porch railing. “I haven’t French-kissed her since we were eleven and curious. And, no, I’m not taking one for the team here and repeating the experiment. Once was enough for me, thank you.”
Katie made a face. “I was still better than you.”
“Keep saying that.” Laura grinned. “But I’m not the one worrying she assaulted a guy.”
Given Laura’s blunt approach to life,
Katie decided, it was kind of surprising it hadn’t happened already. Laura had no problem walking straight up to a guy and telling him she found him attractive. Or unattractive, an asshole, or just plain in her way. You always knew exactly where you stood with Laura.
Abbie sighed, clearly abandoning the test plan approach. Thank God. “Did he use the assault?”
“I kissed him.”
And it was a fairly humiliating memory as far as kissing war stories went. She wouldn’t have minded if he’d seemed to enjoy the exercise, but after those first few moments when he’d almost kissed her back, he’d been... frozen. Then he’d all but fallen off the Segway. So, no, that kiss wasn’t going in the keeper column as far as memories went.
“Did he kiss you back?”
“Or did he screech like a virgin, yelling Back the fuck up?” Laura brightened, clearly enjoying the mental image.
“I thought he was going to kiss me back,” she emphasized. Didn’t men like take-charge women who made the first move? “Then he backed up so fast that he fell over.”
“Maybe he wasn’t in the mood.” Abbie looked thoughtful. Katie appreciated the excuse, but she knew an excuse when she heard one.
“He’s a guy.” Laura held the bottle out to Katie. “More? Guys are always in the mood.”
“Will says that’s not true.” Since Abbie was the only one of them who was married, that had to give her an edge in the credibility department. Maybe. Or maybe Katie was just desperate to find some understandable, non-personal reason why Tye Callahan had backed the hell off.
“It’s true,” Abbie insisted, when Laura looked incredulous. “Sometimes, a guy just isn’t in the mood. No one’s up for sex twenty four/seven.”
“The guys on the EMT didn’t get that memo. Sex is pretty much all they talk about. That, or grievous bodily injuries and which roads you can get the most speed on.” Laura waved her glass. “Will is an anomaly.”
Abbie grinned. “I can safely assure you he thinks about sex all the time.”
“I don’t want to know,” Katie groaned. “Can we get back to my problem here before I need more therapy?”
“So you kissed Tye Callahan and he backed off.” Abbie shrugged. “Just do it again.”
“Do it right,” Laura added. “Or make sure you’ve got him pinned against a wall so he can’t fall over.”
“Bottom line: good move,” Abbie said decisively.
“Good?” Maybe Katie and Abbie had different definitions of the word.
“It’s time for you to move on, to get over Kade. I know—” Abbie held up a hand. “You’re sure he’s coming back and I really, really hope you’re right but… the odds aren’t great, sweetie. Uncle Sam buried him. Your Tye saw it happen. Even if there’s no body, I think it’s unlikely Kade got out of that particular mess. And he wouldn’t want you to sit around and wait for him the next fifty years or so.”
“Even less than you think.” She sucked in a breath. Confession was good for the soul, right?
“Come again?”
“Kade and I weren’t really quite engaged.” She let the words hang in the air and busied herself petting her Siamese. Angus liked the attention, stretching out to fill her lap and then some.
“That’s kind of like assault,” Laura pointed out. “You either do—or you don’t.”
“Then we didn’t. You remember the night he proposed to me at Mimi’s bar?”
“Sweetie,” Abbie said dryly, “Most of Strong remembers that night at the bar.”
“Well, some guy who was passing through had been heckling me. Kade thought I could use an assist, so he stepped in and then he suggested we should get engaged.”
“Because he didn’t think you could handle drunk assholes on your own?” Laura’s brows rose.
“Yes. No. He thought it was funny. And helpful.” She added the last bit hastily. Her engagement had been more than just a joke.
“Wow.” Abbie blinked. “I didn’t see that coming.”
Laura snorted. “Yeah. None of us did.”
A truck door slammed in the driveway and booted feet pounded towards the porch, startling the cat, who bolted in a show of indignantly fluffed fur. Will Donegan rounded the corner. His hair was damp from a recent shower, but the cleanup had been quick. Ash still streaked his neck and forearms.
“I’m here to collect my wife if you ladies are willing to share.” He grinned and took the steps two at a time.
Laura shook her head, laughing. “Firefighters. So hot, but always in a rush. You could just stand there and let me look at you.”
“Looking, yes. Touching, no. This one’s all mine.” Abbie elbowed her friend playfully.
“No worries. I brought you fresh meat.” Will jerked a thumb behind him and, didn’t it just figure, there was Tye, striding up the path.
***
Hands off. That was the plan. Tye wasn’t even going to think about kissing Katie Lawson. Or touching her. And definitely not about all the things he wanted to do if he ever got her alone in his camper. She’d been pissed off and embarrassed yesterday. He hadn’t handled that whole kissing thing well.
Okay. He hadn’t handled it at all.
When Will had given him directions to Katie’s place, he’d played it cool. Will knew about yesterday’s Segway lesson—the entire jump team knew, thanks to the miracle that was Facebook—but he hadn’t said anything. Tye shouldn’t have gotten out of the truck. He didn’t have to, which meant he didn’t have any excuse for being here. He’d cleared hostile-riddled buildings in Fallujah with less unease.
“Tye,” Katie said and her voice made an iceberg seem like a tropical destination in comparison to her patent unwelcome for him.
Her friends stared at him like they were connecting the dots. Or a name with a face. Shit. Whatever she’d shared with them, it didn’t bode well for him.
Katie was wearing another one of her seemingly endless supply of sundresses—this one was pink with white polka dots—and a pair of heels. She leaned forward to look at him, or, more likely, give him the death glare, because right now those were clearly one and the same as far as she was concerned, but she also gave him a spectacular view of her cleavage. That probably hadn’t been part of her plan, unless she was trying to torture him. The front of her dress pushed the soft curves of her breasts together. Something lacy peeked out over the fabric hugging her chest, so she wasn’t entirely naked under there.
No touching, sailor.
He nodded his head to acknowledge her greeting and then Will was making introductions and Tye was filing away intel for future use. Will’s wife, Abbie, and Laura Carpenter clearly played for team Katie and learning everything he could was smart. While he did the meet-and-greet, Katie had her fingers wrapped around a plastic flute and was polishing off the contents with the skill of a SEAL hitting a bar for R&R after a particularly tough mission.
“You’re forgetting something, Mr. Firefighter.” Abbie hopped up off her chair and Will opened his arms. Too bad that wasn’t Katie making a run for him, but Abbie had clearly missed her husband. For the entire thirty-six hours the man had been out there in the field.
Will closed his arms around his wife, bent his head and kissed the hell out of her, his hands threading through her hair as he worked his mouth over hers. She stretched up to meet him more than halfway, tugging his shoulders down to her until they were fused together, hip to hip and mouth to mouth.
Laura, Tye couldn’t help but notice, watched the pair, a big smile splitting her face. Katie, however, blushed and looked everywhere but at Tye. Maybe he still had a chance.
“You guys need to get a room.” Laura patted Will gently on the butt. “Somewhere else.”
“Got it covered.” Will came up for air and grinned. “You ready to go, Mrs. Will?”
“Uh-huh. You betcha.” Abbie smiled her goodbyes, then shrieked as Will swung her up into his arms and over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. “If you make me hurl, yo
u’re not getting any!”
Will’s answer was lost in the playful smack he delivered to her ass as he headed towards their truck. Abbie’s goodbye wave to her friends as she bounced away said it all. Tye figured the pair wouldn’t come up for air for the rest of the afternoon.
“Those two,” Laura said fondly. “You should have seen them at the wedding. It was positively pornographic.”
She didn’t seem to mind, though, and even Katie was smiling. “They’re happy,” she said, and for once she and Tye were in agreement. Abbie and Will weren’t subtle, but they both seemed happy. Tye’s feet, however, seemed glued to the porch. He should be beating a strategic retreat down the path to his truck but he didn’t want to go.
Nope. He wanted to pull up a chair and stay. Today. Tomorrow. Hell, the rest of the summer if Katie would have him.
He thought about that for a moment. The idea should have scared the pants off of him. He wasn’t a stay put or a commitment kind of guy, other than his marriage to Uncle Sam and Spec Ops. And yet Katie... was an exception to that rule.
Laura eyed him speculatively, then extended a plastic flute to him. He was fairly certain it had been Abbie’s. “Drink?”
He shook his head. “I’m driving.”
He didn’t drink alcohol. He’d seen too many good men try to drown the night demons. Playing bottoms-up with a whiskey glass or a beer bottle was a solid strategy for a few nights, but that plan always went to hell. He’d decided he’d play it safe. No alcohol. No chance of losing control.
“Orange juice?” Laura volunteered at the same time that Katie chimed in with, “Then see you.”
Katie’s voice had that soft edge that said she wasn’t drunk, but that she was just the slightest bit tipsy. Good thing she was home and not driving. He crouched down beside her, ignoring Laura. Citrus wasn’t what he needed.
“You and I have unfinished business.”
“I think we finished up yesterday,” she said darkly. “When you fell off the Segway? Consider that the period to our relationship.”
