by A. J. Pine
“That one was a compliment,” he said, sitting up so she couldn’t escape the depths of those blue eyes. “You know exactly what you want and what you don’t, Ivy. I admire the heck out of that. Even if it means you not wanting to get involved with a catch like me.”
Her gaze softened. “And you don’t want to get involved with a mess like me.”
“You’re not a mess,” he said. “But no. We already know we’re not right for each other. And despite what you’re offering up here on the hill, I think we both deserve better than that.”
He grabbed his hat, stood, and dropped it back on his head.
She clamored back to her feet. “Wait. That’s it? What about forgetting what’s down there while we’re up here?”
He dipped his head and kissed her. She didn’t have time to think because her body melted into his like she was molten metal and he was made to mold her into shape. Her stomach contracted, and her back arched. His hands slid around her waist, and hers draped over his shoulders. His kiss was everything he had promised and everything she’d hoped—firm and insistent while at the same time careful and considerate. Whatever he asked for right now, she was more than willing to give. She parted her lips, and his tongue slipped past, tangling with hers. He was heat and fire and passion like she hadn’t known existed.
Erase it all, she thought. My fear, my hesitation—heck, even my name. She knew it wasn’t that easy, that a kiss couldn’t take away two years of grief and how scared she was to even consider putting her heart at risk again. But now that she knew what she’d tried to resist, she wanted all she could take before logic stepped back into the picture.
But before she could catch her breath, he backed away and tipped his hat.
“Are you gonna forget that once we get back to town?” he asked. “Because I sure as hell won’t.”
Chapter Six
Carter Bowen was on fire. Not literally, of course. In the two weeks he’d been in Meadow Valley, the closest he’d gotten to any sort of real flame was the fire at Ivy’s shop—the one she’d put out before he’d probably had his gear on.
No gear today, just a very sweaty Meadow Valley Fire Station T-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. Lieutenant Heinz’s crew took over a few hours early so Carter and his team could spend the last of their twenty-four-hour shift doing a scrub down of the rig.
In a hundred-degree heat, because even in the late afternoon, the day was a scorcher, and they needed daylight to see what they were doing. Carter paused from waxing the front of the truck to take a water break.
“You know this rig never sees any action, right?” Shane O’Brien said. “Other than the occasional emergency room transport—and for that we use the ambulance—I think the last fire Meadow Valley saw was two years ago.”
He was on top of the rig, checking the ladder hydraulics and making sure there weren’t any leaks.
“Not that I owe you an explanation, probie,” Carter said, and Shane scowled at the nickname. “But I know the station’s history. I’d expect that, having grown up in Meadow Valley, you’d know that while things have been quiet here the past eighteen months, we don’t service only our own town. Our company has been called for backup more than a few times for forest fires in neighboring jurisdictions. In a rural area like this, debris from low-hanging trees and falling ash can cause issues over time if the upper level isn’t cleared out and rinsed every now and then.” He took a long swig from his canteen of water. “Plus a good day of work builds character for someone who might have taken a job because he thought he could sit with his feet up and watch ESPN all day.”
He’d actually kill to be inside in the air-conditioning checking the Astros score, but there was no way he was going to bond with his team without working with them, and a clean rig was always the safest rig.
“Thanks for the exaggeration,” Shane bit back. “I can count how many times we’ve been called for backup on one hand. And just so we’re clear, my probationary period ended months ago. I could put myself in the running for your job if I wanted. We all know about your one-month trial period. You mess up and you’re out, Lieutenant Probie.”
Carter’s teeth ground together. He’d been the youngest of three, the button pusher, all his life. But it had all been because he looked up to his brothers. He wanted to be like them. This was different. Shane O’Brien had some sort of vendetta, and Carter was the target.
Jessie popped her head out of the driver-side door.
“Mats and underneath the mats are all clean, Lieutenant!” she called. “Gotta admit, it was pretty nasty in there.”
Carter did his best to shake off his interaction with Shane. “Let me take a quick look. If all looks good, you’re clear to go.”
He rounded the rig and climbed inside. The cab was damn near pristine, like no one had ever used it.
“Excellent work, Morris,” he said as he hopped out. “I’ll see you in forty-eight hours.”
She grinned. “Thanks, Lieutenant.” Then she gathered up her portion of the cleaning supplies and headed into the garage.
She and a few others on his team had seemed to come around in the past week, even though he’d been extra surly after the way things had ended with Ivy on Sunday. Maybe it started with his team not wanting to poke the bear, as it was, but now they’d fallen into an easy rhythm that felt good. The way he felt about Ivy Serrano, though? There was nothing easy about that.
It was Thursday now, and he was finishing the second of two twenty-four-hour shifts since he’d seen her. He hadn’t been able to shake off how much he’d wanted her that evening and how much he still did even after putting four days between them.
It had meant keeping to the station and avoiding any other stops at the Midtown Tavern. But it seemed the more he avoided his attraction, the more he thought about it and wished he hadn’t gone from a father who didn’t support his life choices to a woman who drove him all kinds of crazy but also couldn’t get behind what he did for a living.
He drained his canteen and then finished the rig’s waxing. After that he went around the truck, inspecting stations and dismissing his firefighters as they completed their jobs. Until the only one left was Shane O’Brien—who’d decided to take an extended water break.
Carter climbed up to the roof of the truck and found him nestled into a corner, his baseball cap pulled low to cover his closed eyes. But Carter could tell by the rhythm of his breathing that the guy was asleep.
What the hell was it with his guy? It was one thing to push his buttons, but this was a complete disregard for Carter’s authority.
He looked down at the small bag of twigs and branches Shane had collected—and at the untouched bucket of soapy water meant to wipe down the roof and ladder.
Carter picked up the bucket and tossed half the contents at the sleeping rookie.
“What the hell?” Shane growled, startling awake.
Carter checked his watch. “I’m off the clock. So is the rest of the team. Except you.” He nodded toward the spilled water. “Clean that up and wipe down the rest of the roof. I’ll let Lieutenant Heinz know you’re not stepping foot off this property until you’re done. See you in forty-eight hours.”
He gritted his teeth and climbed to the ground before Shane had a chance to be any more insubordinate than he’d already been. Carter needed a shower. And a drink. But that meant hitting the tavern. Except he was avoiding the tavern. And right now he wanted to avoid the firehouse as well.
He pulled out his cell phone and called his great-aunt.
“I need a room,” he said when she answered.
“Got one ready and waiting. Rough day?”
“Yeah. Does that Everything Store sell liquor?”
She laughed. “And steal business from Casey’s place? Kitchen’s still open over here, and I might have a few longnecks hiding in the fridge.”
He blew out a breath. “You’re a lifesaver. Be there in a few.” Then he ended the call.
He grabbed his few belongi
ngs from the bunkhouse, hoisted his duffel over his shoulder, and headed straight for the front door. He pushed through to find Ivy Serrano heading up the front walkway. Her eyes widened when she saw him.
“Can I help you, Ms. Serrano?” he said with as much formality as he could muster.
Her hair was in two low braids on either side of her head, and she wore a black baseball cap that said SLUGGERS across the top in yellow, a white tank top under fitted overalls, and a pair of what he guessed used to be white sneakers on which she’d doodled intricate floral designs in vibrant colored marker.
Damn she looked cute.
She hesitated, her hands fidgeting with the bag slung over her shoulder.
“Softball practice was canceled on account of the heat, and I figured since I was free and it looks like you’re still in need of that haircut…”
He ran a hand through his hair. The overgrown ends were slick with sweat.
“Ivy,” he said, more serious this time. “What are you doing here?”
She shrugged. “You were right. I haven’t been able to forget about that kiss.” She noticed his duffel. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Decided to take a room at the inn. I need a shower and a cold-as-hell beer.”
She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’ve got a shower. And a six-pack of Coors.”
He sighed. Despite having thought about her all week, he had every reason in the world to say no. There was something between them, for sure. But they couldn’t be together, not when his job seemed to be growing more complicated, especially after what he’d just done. Not to mention the woman standing in front of him couldn’t handle his job to begin with.
He got it. He understood and wouldn’t fault her for her grief. But he couldn’t be anyone else for her.
No, Ivy. I can’t come with you. I can’t get deeper into this thing we never should have started because it’ll keep getting harder to walk away.
The only problem? He couldn’t actually form the word no. Not with those big brown eyes fixed on him, those dark lashes batting their way past his defenses—because yes, she batted. And it worked.
“Those are the magic words,” he said at last. A free haircut and a beer. He could handle that. “But nothing out of any sort of fashion magazine. Just a trim.”
She finally smiled, and he swore it was brighter than the still-blazing sun.
“Deal,” she said, then held out her right hand.
He shook it. “And for the record,” he said, “I haven’t forgotten that kiss either.”
They strode off down the street and around the bend. When they got to her porch he texted his aunt.
Change of plans. I’ll still need that room but not until later this evening.
Or maybe, if they both threw logic out the window, not at all.
Carter showered quickly and threw on a clean T-shirt and jeans. He’d gotten so used to communal living the past couple of weeks that the quiet of Ivy’s house made him feel odd and out of place. After college he’d moved straight into a one-bedroom apartment with another probie at the station. It was a tight fit, one of them living in the bedroom and the other in the living room, but it had been a necessary inconvenience. After his father decided he was a colossal disappointment, he couldn’t live at home anymore. So he worked to pay the rent, picked up any overtime that was offered him, and moved up the ranks as fast as he could.
And then he left.
It had been a long time since he’d been under a roof with quiet, space, and permanence.
He padded barefoot into the kitchen, where she was waiting on a stool at the kitchen island. One frosty longneck sat on the blue-tiled counter while she sipped another.
“Evening, Lieutenant,” she said, raising her bottle. Her ball cap hung on the corner of her high-top chair.
“Evening, Ms. Serrano,” he said, striding toward the counter to stand opposite her. “But I’m off the clock.”
She nodded. “I know. But the title suits you. You’ve got this air of authority that doesn’t seem to go away even when you’re off duty.”
He blew out a breath and took a healthy swig from his beer. “I guess it’s kind of hard to turn it off sometimes.” He set his beer down and pressed both palms against the counter, shaking his head. “I lost my cool with one of my rookies this afternoon.”
She winced. “Shane?”
“How’d you know?” he asked.
She sighed. “Shane’s always had a bit of a chip on his shoulder. Wyatt was—and I guess still is—the big brother whose shoes have been hard to fill. He was the starting quarterback our sophomore year. Took the team to state twice. He was as good a student as he was an athlete, and now he’s a uniformed town hero in the making. Shane got in with the wrong crowd in high school and sorta disappeared for a few years. Rumor has it that when he turned up in the county jail, his father gave him an ultimatum—clean up his act and get a job or he wouldn’t post bail.”
“Damn,” Carter said. “How long ago was that?”
She raised her brows. “About a year ago.”
He whistled. “That explains a lot. Shoot, I’m guessing I fanned the flames pretty good, then.”
“Uh-oh.” She took another sip of her beer. “What did you do?”
He shrugged. “Caught him sleeping on top of the truck when he was supposed to be scrubbing it down, so I dumped half the bucket of soapy water on him and told him he wasn’t leaving until he cleaned up the mess.” He scratched the back of his neck. “This sounds kind of crazy, but I think he might have been the internal applicant for lieutenant. It doesn’t make any damned sense from an experience standpoint, but now that I know more about his history? I’m nothing more than a reminder to him of not measuring up.”
“Oh, Carter,” she said, resting a hand over his as she stifled a laugh. “You’ve got your work cut out for you, don’t you?”
“The thing is,” he said, “he and I aren’t that different. I’m the youngest of three. I always looked up to my brothers. My father. But when I decided to go down a different path, it was like I lost any chance of filling the shoes I was expected to fill.”
She squeezed his hand. “I think maybe you and Shane will be good for each other. You know what it’s like to be in his place. Now you get to sort of be the big brother, to show him that the right path can still be his own path.”
He flipped his hand over and laced his fingers with hers. “Does this mean you’ve changed your mind about getting involved with a firefighter?”
She shook her head, nodded, and then groaned.
“What kind of answer is that?” he asked with a laugh.
She slid off her stool and rounded the corner of the island so she was standing right in front of him.
“It’s the kind where my heart and my head can’t come to an agreement. I felt something with you that first night, Carter, and again up on the hill. I tried to ignore it. Tried to keep my heart safe by staying away, but here we are.”
He nodded. “Here we are.”
“Something died in me the day we lost Charlie. Loving and losing isn’t just about romantic love, you know. No matter which way you slice it, the losing is hard. Too hard. I couldn’t take that kind of hurt again.”
“I know,” he said. “All I can do is promise that if this thing with us turns to something real, I’ll do my best not to hurt you.”
She pressed her lips together and nodded. “Maybe while we’re seeing where this goes, we pretend you have a really boring office job where you sit in a cubicle and crunch numbers at a computer.”
He laughed. “Fine. But if I don’t get to talk about my passion, you don’t get to talk about yours.” He wasn’t changing who he was, just buying them time for her to be okay with it. Besides, after today, he needed a friendly face. He needed to be with the woman he hadn’t stopped thinking about all week.
She scoffed at him imposing this rule on their game, but fair was fair. “But I just opened the shop. This is my fresh start
, my future, my—”
He pressed a finger to her lips. “If I have to work in a cubicle, so do you.”
She pouted, but there was a smile in her big brown eyes. “Okay. No shoptalk. For now.”
She held out her free hand to shake, but instead he slipped both his hands around her wrists and draped her arms around his neck.
“I can think of a better way to seal that deal.”
He dipped his head and kissed her, and it was everything he needed after the day he’d had. Her soft lips parted, and he felt her smile against him as he tasted what was far better than a cold beer at the end of a hard day.
“Evening, Lieutenant,” she whispered.
“Evening, Ms. Serrano.”
He slid his hands behind her thighs and lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him harder.
“Can we postpone that haircut?” she asked, her voice breathy and full of a need that matched his own.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and carried her back down the hall. There were three open doors, and one he could tell just from glancing in was clearly her office or design space. So he strode through the only other door that wasn’t the bathroom and carried her toward the bed.
He set her down on her feet. “Wait,” he said.
She shook her head and slid her overalls off her shoulders, lifted her fitted tank top over her head, and undid her bra in seconds flat.
“Wow,” he said, staring at her breasts. “While this is already way better than a haircut, why are we rushing, Ivy?” Even though he wasn’t sure how much time he had with her—how long this would last before she decided she couldn’t and wouldn’t be with him—he wanted to take things slow.
She laughed and lifted his T-shirt up and over his shoulders, then wrapped her arms around his torso and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him again. “Why wait?” she asked. “We’re two consenting adults who obviously both want the same thing.” She paused and took a step back. “You do want me, don’t you?” she asked, the sincerity in her voice too much for him to bear.
