Light Up The Night (Firehouse Three Book 2)

Home > Other > Light Up The Night (Firehouse Three Book 2) > Page 9
Light Up The Night (Firehouse Three Book 2) Page 9

by Regina Cole

He stayed on the deck as if sensing she needed the space. Once she’d started the coffee, she rinsed her fingers at the sink. Fortunately, she’d been right, and it wasn’t that bad. Just a little sting.

  The coffee was almost done, so Everly chanced a glance over her shoulder.

  He was sitting in the chair beside her mug, hands laced together as he leaned forward, watching her dogs. He’d slipped his basketball shorts on, but was still shirtless. A silver chain hung around his neck, the brightness contrasting with his tanned skin. His dark hair curled at the nape of his neck, and Everly shivered, just a little, remembering how it had felt to tug at his hair when he’d entered her last night.

  “It’s beautiful here,” he said as she handed him a mug.

  “Thanks,” Everly said as she sat down beside him. “We like it.”

  “This is good,” he said after taking a sip.

  “I’m sorry. I should have asked if you wanted any milk or sugar.”

  “I drink it black.”

  “Me, too,” she said lamely. Idiot. Of course you do. Your cup is right there.

  “I had a good time last night.”

  Silence fell between them at his pronouncement as Everly struggled for a normal response. What should she say? “Me, too?” “Fucking you was amazing, let’s do it again?” “I swear I’m not normally a slut, but for you all I want to do is strip naked and jump your bones?” “Let’s screw again sometime, how about now?”

  She just nodded, feeling like an awkward idiot.

  When Jacques trotted up to her side, she reached down and grabbed him, thankful for the distraction.

  “Who’s this little girl?” Drake asked, reaching over to scratch behind the poodle’s ears.

  “Boy,” Everly corrected as Jacques shot Drake a look. “This is Jacques.”

  “Sorry about that, dude,” Drake said, and Jacques gave his knuckles a lick as if in forgiveness. “You’re a nice kid, huh?”

  “He is. He’s kind of pissed at me for kicking him out of the bedroom last night,” Everly said without thinking. She instantly wanted to smack herself in the forehead. Why was she talking about last night?

  “Wish I could say sorry about that too, kid, but I’m not,” Drake said with a mischievous smile that sailed straight into Everly’s chest and twisted. She tried her best to keep her breathing even as he continued. “I hope that you’ll get kicked out of the bedroom again very soon.”

  Oh. My. God.

  She chugged her coffee, glad it was cool enough to down quickly. It was the only thing she could do. Because jumping up and down for joy and screaming in frustration simultaneously would be confusing for all involved.

  Did she want him to spend the night again? Hell yes. And oh, no. Because despite her act the night before, she had no. Fucking. Clue. what to do with this tall, sexy drink of water. She hated feeling like this. Out of control, and vulnerable, and much too exposed. But her body had loved every second of being with him last night, and even now she wanted to lean over and press her lips against the bare skin of his shoulder.

  “Looks like it’s about to rain,” Drake commented, looking up at the sky which had clouded over in the last few minutes.

  “Come on, pups, let’s head inside,” Everly called, not bothering to watch Arrow run up the steps to the deck. She just clutched Jacques to her chest like a shield and walked into the kitchen. “Wow, it’s getting late. I need to get ready to head to the festival. Charlie’s picking me up.”

  Drake frowned as he set his mug next to the sink. “Hey, are you okay this morning?”

  “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” Her smile was too bright, her answer too energetic, as she poured dog food into two separate bowls. “I just don’t want to be late. Since Charlie shut everything down last night, I want to help get things kicked off this morning. I’m usually really hands-on, so it makes me nervous to just leave things.”

  “Okay,” Drake said, that look of consternation not leaving his handsome face. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but his phone started ringing then. He answered it with a quick swipe. “Yeah. No, I just started my off days yesterday.” He paused for a moment, shooting Everly a look she tried hard to ignore. “Yeah, if you need me, I can cover for a few hours. Sure. See you in a bit.”

  The phone fell down by his side. “Sorry. I was going to volunteer to help out at your booth again today if you needed it, but I’ve got to take another shift at the station for a guy who’s had a family thing come up. Can I call you later?”

  “Of course,” Everly said, crossing her arms over her middle to stifle the weird feeling of disappointment that had taken up residence in her belly. “Not a problem.”

  “I’ll call you,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. For a moment, she closed her eyes and just enjoyed the touch, the smell of him, his warmth and nearness. And then he was gone, down the hallway to gather his things and leave.

  Shit. What the hell was she supposed to do now? She didn’t know what to do with him, but she didn’t know what to do without him, either.

  After what might possibly be the most awkward morning-after scene Drake could remember, he climbed into his truck to head home.

  Damn.

  He’d been so happy when he woke up that morning at Everly’s, remembering the night before. But as soon as she’d clapped eyes on him, she’d reverted back to the nervous girl who’d been ready to jump out of her skin at a moment’s notice. Where had the confident siren from the night before gone? Honestly, she was an enigma, and he’d wanted to spend the day with her to coax her back to that comfortable state again.

  But, duty called, and since he was the low man on the totem pole, he was expected to jump higher than anyone else when the chief called. He didn’t mind it, not really, but the timing wasn’t exactly ideal.

  After a quick shower, he headed in to the station.

  “Morning, asshole,” Kyle grunted as Drake passed him in the locker room. His skin was damp from the shower, his tattoos glistening with moisture as he rubbed a towel over his head. Another was wrapped around his hips.

  “Morning yourself. How’d your date go last night?”

  “I got bid on by a very sweet grandma who informed me I would be dating her precious granddaughter next week. I am not looking forward to it.”

  “Why not?” Drake dropped his bag into his locker and sat down on the bench.

  “She sent me a friend request on Facebook.” Kyle reached into his locker and grabbed his phone. Unlocking it, he passed the thing over to Drake, who blinked at the picture on the screen.

  Pretty girl. Long brown hair, slender legs, nice rack, attractive smile.

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “You don’t see that? She’s wearing a fucking Redskins jersey. How the hell can I relate to a woman who doesn’t root for the Cowboys?” Kyle snatched his phone away from Drake in disgust. “I should have known the rookie wouldn’t understand. You even watch football?”

  “I like the Broncos, myself,” Drake said mildly, quirking a smile when Kyle snarled at him. He yanked his pants up over his hips as if he couldn’t deal with the whole idea of Drake’s traitorous ways.

  “How’d your date go, if you’re such a badass?”

  “Not bad. Picnic by the lake, fireworks, I can’t complain.”

  Kyle quirked a brow at him, his shirt halfway over his tattooed arms. “You get some?”

  Drake stood slowly, stretching in an exaggerated way. Scratching his belly, he gave a self-satisfied smile. “A gentleman never kisses and tells.”

  “Oh, fuck you, noob,” Kyle threw the damp towel in Drake’s face. “Keep the gory details to yourself then. I’ve got a few toilets that need scrubbing. Why don’t you get on that?”

  Drake opened his mouth to reply, but the siren started up at that very moment. Wordlessly, he and Kyle grabbed their gear and did what they did best. Shit-talking aside, they had a job to do and nobody in that station would relax until it was done.

 
Fortunately for everyone, the call was a non-event. Those were the best ones. Small fender-benders, tiny grease fires that the homeowner was able to put out before the engine even arrived, they were the calls that nobody minded. This time, it was an employee versus microwave situation, and the microwave lost. With a small application of fire extinguisher, and an admonishment to keep aluminum foil out of the microwave, the engine was safely back at Firehouse Three.

  “Thanks for pulling the extra shift,” Chief Donaldson said as he clapped Drake on the back. Drake was packing his gear at the end of the day, wondering what Everly was up to. She’d been on his mind almost nonstop.

  “No problem, Chief. I was happy to help.”

  “We’ll see you tomorrow for your regular.”

  “Sure thing,” Drake nodded as he shouldered his bag. “See you.”

  “Drake, just a second.” The chief was frowning down at his cell phone, holding a finger up at him. Drake stopped by the door.

  “Sir?”

  For a moment, the chief didn’t say anything, just glowered at his cell phone. Lips pursed into a thin line, he looked up at Drake. Then, after a long minute, he shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll deal with it myself. Just—keep your nose clean around here, huh?”

  Drake stared at the chief. What the hell? He hadn’t fucked up anywhere since he’d been here, had he? Hell, most of the time he was a freaking Boy Scout. “Yes, sir.”

  With confusion and worry snarling around inside his chest, Drake walked into the darkening twilight headed for his truck.

  Damn. It was hard enough to be the new guy in the station without having to worry about some mysterious warning from the chief on top of that. He could take the ribbing, the hazing, the teasing that all new guys to the station were subjected to. But how was he supposed to fight an unnamed suspicion from the chief?

  Damn, damn, damn.

  Inside the cab of his truck, Drake glanced at the time. It wasn’t that late. Even though he’d wanted to track down Everly, maybe giving his buddy Hunter a call would be better for now. Hunter could talk him off the ledge where the chief was concerned. After all, Drake had done the same for him numerous times in the past.

  The phone rang three, four, five times before the voicemail kicked on. With an irritated grunt, Drake killed the call before leaving a message.

  He was being a pansy-ass bitch about this. So what if the chief had something on his mind? Drake hadn’t done anything wrong, had even pulled an extra shift at the first opportunity. There wasn’t anything to worry about, so he was just going to get over it and proceed with his plans for the evening.

  Cranking the engine, he tried another number, this one the most recent addition to his cell phone’s contact list.

  “Hello?” The soft female voice was almost impossible to understand over the undercurrent of barking behind it.

  “Everly, it’s Drake.”

  The echoing barks faded after the sound of a metallic clang. She must be at the shelter. He could picture that big heavy door he’d seen on his one trip inside falling shut behind her. She was probably standing near the front desk now.

  “Hi, Drake.” Nervous, still. He should have anticipated that. She’d probably been stewing all day over their encounter last night, and clearly the time thinking hadn’t done anything to calm her anxieties.

  “I’m done with my shift. Have you eaten? I’d love to go out and grab something with you.”

  “I haven’t eaten, no.” Her voice was thin as water, but there was a hint of wistfulness there too. “I’m not sure about it, though. I kind of have a headache.”

  “We can go somewhere quiet. Or hell, I’ll pick up takeout if you’d rather.”

  She hesitated. In the background, an office phone rang, and a cheerful female voice sounded far away as she answered the other call. “Hopeful Paws, Charlie here.”

  “That’s really sweet of you Drake, but I’m already at home. I was going to turn in early.”

  Lie.

  Drake frowned, disappointment soaking deep into his bones. “That’s a shame.”

  “Yeah, it is. Sorry. But definitely next time,” she said quickly as the office phone in the background rang again. “Talk to you soon, bye!”

  She hadn’t quite hung up the cell phone’s call before saying, “Hopeful Paws, this is Ever—”

  Drake’s cell phone went dark and he closed his eyes, thumping his head against the rest behind him. Damn. Dodged for no good reason, not one he could discern, anyway.

  What did a guy have to do to spend some time with a friendly face in this town?

  Chief Pearce glared down at his cell phone’s screen, and the expression did nothing to calm Belinda’s frayed nerves.

  “What did he say?” she prodded her father, leaning forward on the beaten leather sofa of her parents’ living room. She hated the thing. Always had. It was cheap when they’d bought it, and time had done nothing to improve the look or the quality of the damn thing. Her father insisted it had “character,” and refused to get rid of it.

  She wouldn’t ever spend money on a piece of furniture like that if she had the chance.

  That morning, after kicking lanky and sweaty out of her hotel room—his swanky suit and white teeth had concealed his complete lack of game. After the most lackluster sex of her life, Belinda had woken early with a plan. She’d been early for her flight for once in her life, and had driven straight over to her parents’ place.

  The one man she could always count on was Daddy.

  “Hammerfell has so far proved an asset to the team, and he doesn’t appreciate his guys being slandered when they can’t stick up for themselves,” Chief Pearce read the reply text aloud. The deep lines in his face became more pronounced with his frown. He looked over at Belinda. “I told you that it wouldn’t work.”

  “But it’s true,” Belinda said, shoving off that hateful couch and pacing on the beaten hardwood floor in front of the hearth. “He did skip out on some shifts.”

  “When he first got started under me, yeah. Once. And wasn’t that your twenty-first birthday party? When he took you to the ER because you drank so much?”

  She slashed the air with an angry wave. “That’s beside the point. Daddy, you’ve got to make this guy understand that Drake isn’t the kind of employee he needs.”

  “I’ve done the best I can, but I can’t lie about him. Drake was damn good at what he did, and he was a good leader.” Chief Pearce shook his head, tossing his cell phone onto the accent table beside his favorite La-Z-Boy. “Now I wish I hadn’t promoted Watson over his head. If I’d had any idea he would run off because of it, I wouldn’t have.”

  She took a deep breath before turning and walking over to her father. Sinking onto the chair arm, she wrapped both of her hands around one of her father’s.

  “Daddy, all I want is for Drake to reach his full potential. You did the right thing by promoting Watson. Drake isn’t a chief like you, and he never will be. He’s supposed to work in the investment firm with his family. Trust me, it was for the best .”

  “He could have been a good chief,” her father said, but the tone was weak. Belinda smiled. Daddy never could deny her when she was being reasonable.

  “It’s better for him to join his family’s company.” She leaned over and picked up her father’s cell phone, pressing it into his hand. “So, why don’t you try one more time with Drake’s new boss? Just tell him he screwed up on the job, and it’s dangerous to have him out on a fire crew.”

  But then, in a move that shocked the shit out of Belinda, her father shook his head.

  “I can’t, baby. I’m sorry. He’s a good kid, and I can’t ruin his job for no reason.”

  “Wh-what?”

  Chief Pearce pushed himself out of the chair. Without turning, he fisted his hands at his sides and spoke to his daughter in a way that he never had before.

  “He’s gone. And you’re going to have to realize that you can’t scheme your way into getting him back. I
’m not going to ruin that kid’s future to give you what you want, baby. I’m sorry.”

  And then he walked out of the room, leaving her stunned and staring after him.

  10.

  When Everly finished the phone call, she rolled the phone lines over to the voicemail. Technically, it should have been done already, but ever since they’d brought the last of the animals back from the festival that afternoon, she and Charlie had been kind of tied up.

  Charlie looked up from the computer screen after finishing the note she’d been typing. Arching one blonde brow at Everly, she just waited.

  Resisting the urge to shift her weight from one foot to the other, Everly stacked clipboards behind the fresh, white stack of adoption applications she’d printed for the festival tomorrow. Distraction. Change of subject. Anything would be better than continuing to hash out her actions—and reactions—to Mr. Hot Pants, as Charlie had dubbed him.

  “So, Lila should be going home in a couple of days. That family really fell in love with her this afternoon. They’re going to bring their other dog over for a play date in a few days and then as long as that goes well, she’ll head home. You should have seen that little boy snuggling with her, it was really cute.”

  “I’m sure. That was Hot Pants on your cell right then, wasn’t it?”

  Shit. A clipboard fell from her hands and clattered to the floor. Everly narrowly avoided clipping her head against the corner of the counter as she bent to pick it up. “No. Yes. Damn it, Charlie.”

  “Why did you tell him you were home?”

  Everly shot her assistant a desperate glare. “You were on the phone. How do you know what I told him?”

  Charlie sat back in the desk chair, crossing her arms over her chest as her braid fell back from her shoulder. “I heard you. I’m excellent at multitasking. It’s why you hired me.”

  “Damn it,” Everly muttered. “Yes, I lied to him. But I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “You need to relax about this,” Charlie said, a calming smile spreading across her pretty features. “Drake isn’t a bad guy, from what I saw of him. Why are you so keyed up?”

 

‹ Prev