Inferno 0f Love (Firefighters 0f Long Valley Book 2)

by Erin Wright

  His mouth opened and closed once…twice…and then what he was really thinking came out. “You are the daughter of the younger son, without an acre to his name,” he spat out. “I will not have my son marry the daughter of the high school biology teacher and the elementary school cafeteria worker!”

  “How very elitist of you,” she said dryly, staring him right in the eye as she talked. She didn’t so much as blink. She wasn’t going to let him know that he was rattling her.

  She wasn’t going to let him rattle her, period.

  “So my self worth is only based on my parents’ occupation?” she continued. “Strange idea to have, coming from a self-made man.”

  Tripp’s gasp of astonishment was the only sound in the room as Mr. Garrett glared at her, nostrils flaring, trying to stare her down. She simply stared back, arms folded, waiting for him to either continue to spar with her, or leave.

  She wasn’t going to move an inch.

  Finally, he cracked and spoke first. “I’ve worked hard so my children wouldn’t have to – so they could lead an easy life! Not one where they’re trapped into a relationship with a gold digger.”

  Georgia’s mind spun, trying to figure out where to even begin unpacking such a ridiculous statement. Moose leads an easy life? His father ought to inform Moose of this fact; he’d be tickled pink to hear it. Moose regularly worked 18-hour days at the dealership.

  And trapped? She was trapping Moose into a relationship? Did Mr. Garrett think she was pregnant or something? She and Moose hadn’t even kissed. She wanted to bust out laughing at the absurdity of it all.

  But she finally settled on responding to the last part of it. “Gold digger? How is it that you think I am a gold digger? I am the one who owns my own home. I own a brand-new car – paid for with cash. I have a nice insurance and retirement package through the credit union. Your son, meanwhile, still lives in his parent’s basement, he drives a truck older than he is that’s held together with duct tape and bailing wire, and I’m going to guess he has no retirement package to speak of. Exactly what gold am I digging here?”

  “You want to marry him because then all of the farmers will get their tractor and operating loans through you!” he said triumphantly. “If you could wrap up all of the farming business in the valley, I bet that’d mean quite the Christmas bonus for you!”

  “You think that Moose broke up with Tennessee because I convinced him to because I want him to marry me so I can get a Christmas bonus?” Her voice kept raising octaves as she was talking, finally breaking at the end on “us.” “Sir, I do hope you realize how ridiculous you’re sounding right now. I’m only going to say this once, because it’s quite frankly none of your business, but your son and I have yet to even kiss. If he’s chosen to break up with Tennessee, that is his choice. If you think he’s doing it to rebel against you as some sort of punishment for being a downright awful father, well…have you ever considered that maybe you should try being a better one? If your son is forced to rebel against you because you are an asshole, coming in here and yelling at me won’t change that fact.”

  “You two haven’t even kissed?” he hissed, ignoring the rest of her little speech as if she’d said nothing at all. “He made it sound like he was going to propose to you next week! Like he was madly in love with you!”

  “I can only hope that’s true,” Georgia said with a nonchalant shrug that she didn’t necessarily feel inside. What she actually wanted to do was a quick jig around the office. Moose likes me – he really, really likes me! “He’s obviously shared more with you than he has with me.”

  A smirk curled up around the edges of Mr. Garrett’s mouth. “This is just puppy love,” he spat out. “He’s just wanting to sow his oats a little before settling down with the right Rowland cousin. I mean, look at you. Would he honestly pick you over Tennessee in the end? You are the ugly cousin – everyone knows that. My son would never be so stupid.”

  She sucked in a breath between her teeth – a hiss of sound in the otherwise silent office. “Get out, Mr. Garrett,” she said softly. “Your welcome has been overstayed. You are not to come in here again unless you’d like to discuss a business deal. Tripp?”

  She looked at her assistant manager who eagerly grabbed Mr. Garrett’s elbow to escort him out the door.

  “What are you doing!” he yelled, yanking his elbow away. “You cannot throw me out. I am Rocky Garr—”

  “I am well aware of your name, Mr. Garrett,” Georgia said smoothly. “Now leave.”

  “Or what? You’ll call the cops on me?”

  “Now that’s an excellent idea,” she said, reaching for her phone on her desk. “Why don’t I just call Sheriff Connelly right now and he can come on down to escort you off the premises.”

  “Connelly would never arrest me,” Mr. Garrett said triumphantly. “Not if he wants to get elected as sheriff again next year.”

  “Maybe not, but I’ll make sure to discuss the situation in a loud tone of voice in the lobby of the bank,” she said cooly. “I imagine the gossip chain here in Long Valley would chew over that one for a long time.”

  He hesitated, pausing, his whole body frozen as he tried to decide if she was serious; if it was worth it; if she’d really do something like that.

  She picked up the phone from the cradle and began punching in the number for the sheriff’s department.

  “I’m done talking to a skank like you anyway,” Mr. Garrett said coldly. “If my son does marry you, I’ll cut him off without a penny. Think about what that will do to your future career. Any farmer who takes out a loan from you will pay higher than retail price from me at the dealership; I’ll make sure of it.”

  He spun on his heel, pushing past Tripp and storming out into the lobby of the credit union, cursing as he went. There were a few startled yelps, which Georgia was pretty sure meant that he was shoving customers as he went, and then the bell over the front glass doors jingled and he was gone.

  She slowly hung up the phone.

  “Heaven help you if you do marry Moose,” Tripp said, staring at her with concern in his whiskey brown eyes. “Mr. Garrett had always been so nice when he came in before. I had no idea he could be like that…”

  Georgia collapsed into her chair, all of the steel gone from her spine. She felt boneless, worn out, run over, and thrown away. “It’s okay for me to give out loans for his customers. It’s okay for him to bank here. But it’s not okay for me to marry his son. When I was up in heaven, picking out families, I just picked the wrong brother to be born to.” She gave Tripp an ironic smile. “Stupid, stupid me.”

  “Next time, make better choices, will you?” he said, and then began laughing. “What century are we living in, anyway?”

  “I have no idea…”

  Chapter 19

  Moose

  Moose paced back and forth, wearing down a path in the lush carpet in his bedroom. When he’d come home last night from the Rowland’s, his father had already heard the news and was furious. Apparently, the mom had called over to relay the news as soon as Moose had walked out the door.

  Dad had laid into Moose, telling him how he was failing the Garrett family, he was making the wrong choice, blah blah blah, not letting Moose get a word in edgewise, and then…he suddenly got quiet. Scarily quiet. He told Moose he needed a day to “get used to the idea,” and that he would talk to him again the next evening.

  Moose had been completely taken aback. Who was this man, and what had he done with his father? Rocky Garrett was not the kind of man to want to think through decisions cooly and logically before making pronouncements. He tended to be the shoot-first-ask-questions-later sort of guy. Moose finally stuttered out his agreement to this plan and had watched his father walk out of the room.

  It was over with…for the moment.

  But now it’d been 24 hours, and it was time for The Talk. Moose had spent the whole day wanting to call Georgia – wanting to tell her what had happened – but had made himself hold back. He wan
ted a resolution when he went to Georgia. He wanted to be able to tell her that he and his father had worked it all out.

  Honestly, he wanted to give Georgia good news, but dammit, if his father didn’t come home soon, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to contain himself much longer. He’d settle for giving “I don’t know what will happen” news, if it meant being able to talk to Georgia. More than possibly anything in the world, he wanted to just hold her, without guilt or worry or the vague feeling of cheating on Tennessee.

  And then, he wanted to kiss her. Kiss her until they couldn’t breathe, and then carry her over to…

  His mind screeched to a halt. Where, exactly, was he carrying her? He couldn’t make love to her in his parent’s house. He couldn’t afford a hotel. It would all have to be done at her condo.

  Which he was all for her making money and pursuing a career, but…could he really be a kept man? Could he handle living in her place, knowing that she was way out-earning him, at least until he took over the dealership?

  If he even got to take over the dealership?

  His head hurt.

  The front door slammed open and Dad came clomping through it, his steps echoing and creaking in the ceiling above him. “Deere!” he thundered. “Get up here right now!”

  Moose could be sure of one thing that his father hadn’t spent his “thinking time” doing: A nice round of yoga and contemplation on how to become a better father. Or at least one less prone to yelling his thoughts out at the top of his lungs.

  Moose hurried up the stairs, feeling frustration welling up inside of him with every step. He was sick of being called to the carpet like a child. He was 26 years old, for hell’s sakes, not a 12-year-old who’d snitched the last of the ice cream.

  “Rocky!” his mother scolded. “Why are you yelling at Deere like that? There is no reason to raise your voice in this house.”

  “Then Deere and I are gonna have to take it outside,” his dad snarled, just as Moose came walking into the room, “because I’m not going to play patty-cake with my son. Not when he has a whore chasing after him, trying to get him to throw his future away.”

  Moose heard his younger sister on the living room couch behind him suck in a breath at that. The room went dark around the edges as anger washed over him.

  “Do not call Georgia a whore,” Moose said deliberately, shaking with rage as he stared at his father. “Do. Not. Do it.”

  “Now you two,” his mother said placatingly. “We just need to—”

  “I only want what’s best for this family,” his dad said, ignoring his wife completely. “That’s all I’ve ever done – what my family needed me to. You, though, are a selfish bastard who doesn’t care about us. Georgia’s father has no land, no influence, no money. Have you seen that house they live in? A little 1970s shoebox. You need to choose your family, or I’ll make the choice for you.”

  “Everything you do is for this family?” Moose repeated, sputtering and laughing sarcastically as he said it. “You don’t care about this family, and you sure as hell don’t care about me.”

  “I’ve had to work hard so you could take over this business!” his father shouted, his face turning a deep red as he did so. “Just because I don’t hand it to you free and clear when you’ve done nothing to earn it doesn’t make me a bad father. In fact, it makes me a good one!”

  “So working me into the ground, treating me like shit, and dictating who I marry before I get to take over the dealership is your way of being a good father? Just curious – do I ever get to vote and ask for a shitty one to replace you, then? Because I’m pretty sure no father out there could be worse than you. When, exactly, were you planning on telling me that I only got to inherit the dealership after I married Tennessee? You always told me it was five years, five years, five years. You never said a word about Tennessee being part and parcel to that. When were you planning on telling me the truth?”

  “I knew you wouldn’t be able to handle the truth!” his dad shot back. “Just because I know what’s best for you, and am making sure that you’re not throwing your life away over the ugly cousin doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

  “The ugly cousin?” Moose repeated, bewildered. “Hold on, you think Georgia is the ugly cousin?” He started laughing uproariously. “Okay, now that’s a good one,” he snorted, slapping his knee with glee. It felt good to laugh. He needed to laugh just then.

  “You cannot honestly think that Georgia is prettier than Tennessee!” his dad gasped, staring at his son in shock. “Georgia is a little mousy thing—”

  “Just because Georgia doesn’t wear ten pounds of makeup and spend seven hours curling her hair every day doesn’t make her ugly, Dad. I honest to God have no idea what Tennessee looks like when she wakes up in the morning. She wears so much goop on her face and in her hair…it’s not for me. And fake fingernails? What is up with those? Going every week to get her hair and nails done – Georgia doesn’t do that because she actually has a full-time job. Tennessee’s full-time job is to look pretty and play the piano. That isn’t a job, Dad, that’s the life of a southern belle.”

  “Tennessee looks like the future wife of the most important man in town,” his father said acidly. “Unlike Georgia, she actually takes the time to present her best side to the world. There is no such thing as natural beauty, and Tennessee is smart enough to know that.”

  “I. Don’t. Love. Tennessee. Do I need to hire a skywriter? If you saw it written in the clouds, would you believe me then?”

  “What in the fiery depths of hell does love have to do with it?” his dad tossed back. “Love and marriage aren’t even remotely related. Have her as your mistress after you get married – I don’t care.” His mother let out a keening cry of pain at that, bending at the waist, rocking and holding her arms tight against herself. His father continued, ignoring his wife. “If you don’t marry her, I’ll…I’ll give the dealership to Rhys!” he said triumphantly.

  Moose laughed sarcastically even as his heart was breaking for his mother. He wanted to rush to her side; hold her and stroke her hair and tell her it was all going to be okay. It was pulling her to pieces to have her oldest son and her husband fight like this, and Moose felt awful for his part in that pain, even if he couldn’t stop it from happening.

  He focused his eyes on his father. He was the villain here, and Moose had to keep his head in the game, no matter how hard it was to see his mother hurting.

  “Rhys wouldn’t take the dealership if you handed it to him on a silver platter,” he said baldly. “He hates this town, and he hates you. Do you really think he felt a burning desire to join the military? He didn’t want to – he told me that he had his fill of being ordered around with you as his father – but it was the only ticket out of this hellhole you’ve trapped us kids into. He’s in Japan right now because it’s the farthest base on the globe from Sawyer, Idaho that he could get sent to. Face it, Dad – you’ll have to live forever if you’re not going to give the dealership to me.”

  “Well…well, I don’t have to make a decision about who I give it to for a long time,” his dad snarled. “I have a lot of years left in me. Maybe Rhys will change his mind by then – who knows. All I know is, it won’t be you.”

  “Thank you for telling me that,” Moose said with a smile that he didn’t necessarily feel. “In that case, there is no reason left to stick around. I’ll go pack my bags now. I’m not going to stay under the same roof as a man who thinks that dictating who I marry is the sign of a good father. Someday, you might realize how much you screwed this up. Or maybe not. But I won’t sit around and wait for you to extract your head from your ass.”

  He spun on his heel and marched back down the stairs to the basement, the slow clap of Zara as she applauded his performance echoing down the stairs after him, intermingled with the cries of devastation from his mom. Zara’s clapping wasn’t exactly appropriate, but Moose couldn’t help a quirk of his lips anyway. She was such a teenager sometimes. No wonder her and Virgin
ia were best friends.

  “Shut up!” his dad roared at his younger sister. The clapping stopped abruptly. Moose wanted to thunder back up the stairs to defend his sister and his mom; gather them up behind him and save them from the wrath of his father. But he knew even as he thought it that it would do no good at all. His mother had chosen a long time ago to stay with his father, despite his verbal abuse, and Zara was too young to move out. She would do it once she hit her 18th birthday though; he was willing to bet the dealership on that.

  Ugh.

  His heart squeezed a little at the unbidden thought, as he began throwing clothes and toiletries into his duffel bag. A saying he’d used his whole life – I’d bet the dealership on that – was no longer something he should say.

  He couldn’t bet what wasn’t his.

  He shoved the thought deep down, past the anger and hurt of his father’s betrayal, so he didn’t have to think about it or deal with it. If he buried it a mile down, so far down that no sunlight or moisture could ever get to it, then maybe he’d survive this mostly sane.

  Maybe.

  His mom knocked lightly on the open door, a Kleenex clutched in one hand. “Deere, you can’t do this,” she pleaded with him, dabbing at her eyes with the used Kleenex. “Your father is just upset right now. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He will—”

  “Your husband,” Moose said pointedly, throwing his charge cords into his bag along with his beat-to-shit laptop, “knows exactly what he’s saying and doing. He has worked his whole life to wrap me around his little finger and get me to jump as high as he wants me to jump, because he knew that I’d perform tricks for him in exchange for the dealership. No more, Mother. No more.

  “People in this town think of me as a spoiled rich kid because my dad is the almighty Rocky Garrett. They probably think I’m still living at home because I don’t want to grow up and face the world and pay my own bills. They don’t realize that after all this time, my father is still paying me Idaho’s minimum wage. I’ve been working down at the dealership since I was ten years old – stocking shelves, making coffee, pushing a broom – and yet I am the lowest paid employee of the company. I don’t deserve pay raises, because all of this work is ‘sweat equity’ and I’m paying for the dealership through my blood, sweat, and tears. I was never told I had to pay for it with my soul.”