Light Up The Night (Firehouse Three Book 2)

by Regina Cole

Her eyes fluttered closed. “Yes.”

  With the world’s ugliest butterfly at his side, Drake pulled Everly into his arms and kissed her once again. She didn’t hesitate this time, but wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

  Sweet, soft, passionate, she was everything he’d remembered and then some. He let his hands wander down her back, and pulled her closer into him, his erection pressing into her belly. She groaned, and he held her tighter, his tongue searching the warmth of her mouth, her tongue meeting his stroke for stroke.

  Seeing Belinda again had only reminded him of the ugliness they’d had, and holding Everly after that encounter was like finding shelter from a snowstorm—warm, safe, heaven.

  He never wanted to stop kissing her.

  “We’re back,” Kyle called.

  Everly tore her mouth away from his, and Drake’s sense of loss was profound. Damn it. If he didn’t like Kyle so much, he’d cheerfully have murdered the bastard for showing up right then.

  “I think we did all right,” Kyle said as he and his dog moved into the booth. When he caught a glimpse of them, he froze, gaze darting from Drake to Everly and back again. An evil grin spread across his lips. “Sorry, am I interrupting?”

  “No, not at all,” Everly said, unconvincingly. She rushed over to his side, leaving Drake and Gossamer alone in the back corner of the booth.

  “Well, fuck,” Drake said, sinking into the chair.

  Gossamer just snorted and curled up into a lumpy ball at his feet.

  5.

  How Everly had managed to keep herself together for the remainder of Drake’s volunteer shift she had no fucking clue. But somehow, she had. Probably because Kyle had been in the booth with them for the last twenty minutes, cracking jokes and teasing Drake mercilessly. If not for his presence, who knows what she might have done?

  God. The thought of kissing him again made her knees turn into Jell-O. What the hell was she doing? This wasn’t like her at all. She almost wanted to shoot a text to Jesse. Or pull Charlie aside for a little girl talk. But she couldn’t justify the time right now. It was almost go time for this insane bachelor auction, and she was running in a billion different directions at once.

  After helping the dessert caterers set up their display, she hastily gave the last two volunteers their dogs and shoved them out into the festival. Every bachelor would be walking a dog down the runway, so she was still assigning firefighters and pooches right up until the wire. Even when Jesse stopped by, she didn’t have a chance to breathe, let alone chat with her best friend. When Drake had requested Gossamer, she hadn’t said a word, but inwardly? She wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or not.

  On the one hand, Gossamer’s looks were repulsive, so people were usually naturally repelled by the poor dog. On the other? Beside Drake, the dog actually looked cute, and the pair of them together made Everly’s stupid girly heart melt.

  She was in trouble. Real trouble. In just an hour or so, Drake would be up for bids. And she was going to basically sell the right to date him to some other woman. The very idea made her sick to her stomach, but what could she do? Beg him to spend the time with her instead?

  “Stupid,” she muttered as she clipped a lead to the last dog’s collar.

  “Sorry?” It was Kyle, again.

  “No, I was just thinking about something.” Everly smiled too brightly as she straightened and handed him the lead. “Sorry. You should head backstage, it’s almost time to start.”

  “Hey,” Kyle said, catching her arm in his broad hand. She locked eyes with him. “Sorry I teased you earlier. Drake’s the new guy, so it’s kind of habit to give him shit. But seriously, you two look good together.”

  “We’re not together,” Everly said automatically.

  “Yeah?” Kyle wound the leash around his hand and quirked a reddish brow in her direction. “That’s not what it looked like to me. But he’s a good guy. You should give him a shot.”

  Kyle waved and ambled off in the direction of backstage. Everly stood there for a long moment, wondering what she should do.

  Had she and Drake looked like a couple earlier? And why didn’t that idea totally freak her out?

  Shaking her head, she got back with the program.

  With all the dogs either with firemen bachelors or back at the shelter, Everly left the booth in the volunteer’s capable hands and dashed into the building at the end of the aisle.

  She had to hand it to Allison, the place looked good. Refreshments from Sprinkles were spread out along one wall, and there were plenty of places to sit and chat. A small stage took up the back wall, with a little catwalk for the bachelors to parade down. Allison herself was decked to the nines, looking like Vanna White’s younger sister, dripping with silk and rhinestones. With a rueful glance down at her khaki shorts and embroidered polo, Everly sighed.

  Compared to a woman like that, what chance did she have with a guy like Drake?

  The crowd inside the tent was getting larger. She should check in with Charlie and make sure she had everything she needed. But a bobbing, dark curly ponytail caught her eye, and she lifted a hand. Jesse had found Sirius, it seemed, and just in time. If Everly didn’t talk with her best friend about this soon, she’d positively explode. She took a few steps in that direction.

  “Jess—”

  “Everly, it’s time!” Allison’s hands clamped down on Everly’s shoulders and she steered her toward the stage. “Are you ready?”

  “Ready for what?”

  “You’re the shelter director! You need to get us started.”

  “Started?” Everly’s feet balked at the idea of walking up those steps onto the stage, but Allison was relentless. She pushed her toward the back of the room, ignoring Everly’s protests. “No, I’m not talking on the microphone, oh no.”

  “Just a short sweet welcome, I’ll do everything else. Now come on, the Lady’s Auxiliary president is here, and you want her to know your name. She controls about half the pocketbooks on this side of Fort Worth, and she’s related to the Bass brothers.”

  With Allison’s hissed encouragement in her ear, Everly swallowed her fear and took the microphone the festival sound guy handed her.

  Shit. She was really about to do this. She was going to sell about twenty men tonight, including the one she was getting a crush on, to the highest bidder.

  Fucking perfect.

  “Thank you for coming tonight.” Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. Damn. Her pulse must be running in the high three hundreds. Her heart felt like it was vibrating instead of beating. She had to keep going. Look above their heads, girl, get it done.

  “I’m Everly Pitts, the director and founder of Hopeful Paws Pet Rescue. Tonight, all of your donations will go toward running the shelter and helping to rescue homeless dogs and cats in our area. If you have any questions about the shelter, or any of the dogs you’ll see tonight, please see me or one of our shelter volunteers.”

  Everly swallowed, but her mouth was bone dry. In the corner of her eye, she could see Drake at the back door, his shirtless chest gleaming in the afternoon light. Gossamer was still at his side, her wings bobbing in time to her pants.

  “There are a lot of great guys up for bids tonight, so I’ll turn it over to Allison Kurtz, our beautiful emcee. Thanks again for coming.”

  The cheers and applause helped Everly smile as she handed the mic to Allison and hauled ass for the edge of the stage. Drake had taken his place in line, and as Everly started to pass, he reached out and grabbed her wrist.

  “Great job,” he smiled at her, the expression doing funny things to her insides. “You did awesome.”

  Damn him. How did he know she had such bad stage fright? How did he know just what to say to make her feel better?

  “Thank you,” she said, fighting the urge—and failing—to look down at her scuffed white sneakers. His hand was still on her arm, thumb making tiny concentric circles on the tender skin of the underside.

  “We’ll do ou
r best to make you a million bucks tonight.”

  The thought of one of those society matrons waving her checkbook at Drake made her stomach churn with anxiety. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, the frissons of heat licking up her arm from that sweet prolonged contact coalescing in her brain and forming a decision.

  No. She didn’t want anyone else to look at his buff, defined muscles. Didn’t want anyone else to plunk a pile of cash down for her rescue in exchange for a night with him. Didn’t want to think about what he and some rich, single woman might be doing after their date.

  Did she say any of that? Nope.

  “Thank you.”

  As Everly walked away, she couldn’t help feeling like something putrid that Gossamer would cheerfully roll in.

  Shit.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Hunter spat as Drake folded his arms across his bare, slicked-up chest. Hunter had applied the same coconut oil treatment to his upper body, his tattoos gleaming in the dim, shadowy light offstage.

  “I wish I was. But she’s here. She cornered me about halfway through my volunteer time at the booth.” Drake couldn’t help himself. He scanned the crowd as the second bachelor’s bids got higher and higher. Nate, a quiet country boy at Firehouse Three, looked like he’d rather be pretty much anywhere than right there onstage. He’d even insisted on wearing his favorite cowboy hat for the auction, but clearly it didn’t bother the ladies at all.

  No matter how many faces Drake scrutinized though, he couldn’t find the one he was watching out for.

  Dammit.

  “You think the bitch is here to make trouble?”

  “Honestly? I’m not sure, but I wouldn’t put it past her.” Drake sighed as they scooted over, making room for Nate. His cheeks were red as the engine parked outside. “But she can’t ruin this. Not for Everly. She’s worked too hard.”

  Hunter’s eyebrows climbed a little at that, but he let it go. “Well, we’ll just have to keep an eye out, won’t we?”

  “Thanks, man.” Drake reached out a hand and grabbed the one Hunter was offering. They brought it in and Drake gave his best friend a pound on the back. “I owe you.”

  “A dozen cupcakes oughtta settle the score,” Hunter said as he sauntered onstage to the obvious delight of the crowd.

  At the edge of the stage, watching his best friend’s bids soar higher and higher, Drake took a deep breath.

  He didn’t mind being up in front of people. Hell, he was kind of a ham. But for some reason, Everly’s expression when she’d walked away from him was still bothering him a half-hour later. She’d looked almost—heartbroken. She hadn’t pulled away from their physical contact until the last minute though, so he wasn’t sure what was eating her.

  And then there was his personal life that had the potential to go tits-up at the worst possible moment. Belinda had a flair for histrionics, and he could just imagine the trouble she’d cause here.

  If his ex caused Everly one second’s irritation or issue? Drake shook his head, irritation and anxiety filling him. The only thing he could do now was to try his best in the auction and pray if Belinda got up to anything, he and Hunter could stop her before it went too far.

  As one of the last bachelors to go on, he’d watched everyone else get bid on. They’d raised a lot of money for the shelter. Everly should be really happy. But he’d watched as she had scooted out the back door of the building only halfway through the bachelors.

  She still looked like someone had kicked a box of puppies. And that worried him.

  “Two thousand!”

  The shouted bid drew his attention back to the auction, and he laughed aloud. Hunter’s shocked expression quickly turned into an evil grin as he flexed and waved to the cheering crowd. The emcee smacked her sparkle-encrusted gavel on the podium, and Hunter officially got purchased for the highest price in the auction thus-far. The shit-eating grin was as full of surprise as it was pride, and he swaggered offstage.

  As he passed Drake on his way into the crowd to meet his buyer, Hunter jacked up his pants.

  “Top that, you bastard.”

  “I intend to,” Drake gave his buddy a good-natured punch to the tattooed bicep. “Come on, Gossamer.”

  Together, they mounted the steps as the emcee began her spiel. She smiled over at him as she gestured with one long, elegant hand filled with notecards.

  “And here we have Drake Hammerfell. Take a good look at this one, ladies. He’s new to the area, and Dallas is forever grateful he’s ours now, right?”

  The crowd shouted their agreement as the emcee looked down at her cards again.

  “Drake loves rock climbing, fishing, and is an amateur chef. Who wants a home-cooked meal with this hottie?”

  An audible “Oooo” went up from the crowd at that, and Drake took the opportunity to smile, letting his dimple take center stage as he flexed. He wasn’t ashamed to turn it on when he needed to. And right now, getting Everly as many donations as possible was his goal. Maybe if he could present Everly with enough money from the auction she’d look happy again. He hadn’t known her smile very long, but he was already feeling its absence all the way down to his core.

  Whether or not this was a success, he was glad he was here. He just wished his past hadn’t followed him.

  Gossamer, wings still in place, sat her pudgy ass down beside him as he mugged for the crowd.

  “Drake is accompanied by Gossamer, a pug mix. Gossamer is a two-year-old spayed female who is ready for her forever home. Now ladies, a night with Drake would be simply magical, so let’s start the bidding at three hundred.” The emcee raised her hand to the crowd. “Do I have three?”

  “Three,” a woman raised her hand in the second row. Drake gave her a thankful nod. Yeah, part of him had been worried that he wouldn’t sell. How much shit would the guys have given him if that happened?

  “Four.”

  “Five hundred.”

  The bids were coming thick and fast now, and Drake couldn’t really tell who was who with the lights in his eyes. He did his best to model, turn, flex, ham it up for the crowd when the bidding slowed down.

  But when she spoke up, he knew without any doubt who it was.

  “Eight hundred.”

  Her voice was clear, sure, no hint of the nervous quaver that had accompanied her welcome speech. And she had bid on him. He didn’t bother to hide the wide grin on his face.

  “Eight hundred, going once…”

  The second voice that sang through the crowd was more familiar, and twice as unwelcome. “One thousand!”

  “Shit,” Drake said, not even caring that he’d just cursed in front of a crowd of two hundred people or more.

  If he’d had a choice between being purchased by Belinda, or by Satan himself, Drake wasn’t certain who he’d have rooted for.

  Oh wait, yeah he was. Satan. The pointy-tailed bastard would be a dream date next to Belinda, the grasping, conniving bitch.

  Belinda glared toward the shelter director. The chick had been nervous as hell when giving that little welcome speech, but now she thought she was hot enough shit to buy Belinda’s man?

  Oh, hell no.

  She raised the number in her hand confidently, and the emcee nodded toward her.

  “Okay, we’ve got one thousand. Do I hear eleven hundred?”

  The shelter director nodded tightly. “Eleven.”

  “Twelve,” Belinda snapped. Oh no. This bitch didn’t understand. Nobody stood in the way of what Belinda wanted. And Belinda wanted Drake.

  “Thirteen.”

  “Fifteen hundred!”

  A normal person might have stopped to consider how they were going to pay fifteen hundred dollars. Belinda didn’t give a rat’s ass. If she had to plunk down 5K for a charity she didn’t give two shits about, she would.

  Drake was worth it. He was handsome enough to look like her perfect match, and the bank account he’d have once his parents kicked it would be healthy enough to make up for his cranky attitude
. She hadn’t wasted the past few years cultivating this relationship. It would work.

  “Sixteen,” the shelter director said when the emcee pointed back at her.

  A scream of pure rage began building in Belinda’s chest. That fucking bitch. She opened her mouth to up the bid to two thousand, but a broad hand suddenly grabbed hers and dragged her toward the exit.

  “Hey there, Bitcherella. Miss me?” Hunter bared his teeth at her. It wasn’t a smile and it wasn’t friendly.

  “What the fuck are you doing,” she hissed as he shoved her through the doors and out into the festival. “Let go of me, dick-for-brains!”

  “Gladly,” he said, dropping her arm like it was burning his skin. He shook his hand out, then wiped it on his pants. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?”

  “It’s none of your damn business,” she said, turning to run back into the room. If she hurried, she could throw in another bid.

  “Going twice, sold!”

  The words stopped her short just inside the doors, and Belinda’s mouth fell open.

  She’d lost.

  She lost? That wasn’t supposed to happen.

  “Do us all a favor,” whispered a smug masculine voice right behind her ear, “and go the fuck home with your tail between your legs. He’s not yours anymore, Bitcherella.”

  Her teeth ground together so hard she could hear them over the noise of the crowd.

  The emcee’s gavel fell and Drake found himself purchased by none other than the woman he’d kissed a mere couple hours earlier.

  If he’d scripted the ending, it couldn’t be any more satisfying. He wasn’t sure what had happened to Belinda to make her stop bidding, but he was fairly sure he could thank his smartass, tattooed guardian angel for that. As to why Everly was donating at her own charity auction? He could figure that out later. For now?

  Gauging what direction her voice had come from, he turned and gave the deepest, most courtly bow he could manage. The resultant “ooohs” from the crowd were nice, but when he straightened and winked, cheers erupted.

  “It looks like our shelter director will have her hands full with this one,” the emcee called as he left the stage, passing by Kyle who was up last. Kyle gave him a fist bump.