Ignite

by Karen Erickson

  Plus I’d like to see where you work.

  Meaning she’d like to see him, if only for an hour. Sitting around in his uniform. Looking sexy. Offering up one of those secret smiles that drove her a little crazy with wanting him.

  He didn’t hesitate answering her at all.

  Then come by around eight.

  Smiling, she tapped out her two-letter response:

  Ok. ☺

  Chapter Twelve

  HARPER TOOK A shower. She washed her hair, spent almost thirty minutes blowing it dry, and even curled the ends with her two-hundred-dollar curling iron. Yeah, that silly curling iron had been a huge expense but well worth the purchase. Her twice-a-year excursions to Sephora were some of her favorite shopping experiences.

  Taking into consideration the weather, her outfit was chosen with care—white denim shorts and a red tank top that clung to her boobs nicely, if she did say so herself. Subtle makeup and a slick of that same red lipstick she’d worn last night to seduce him completed the look.

  And her efforts proved worth the time. The moment she exited her car and West first saw her, his appreciative gaze started a warm, downright manic flutter in her stomach.

  “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” That slow, syrupy drawl of a voice washed over her as he swept her into his arms. That she was plastered up against her car made her want to laugh. He hadn’t let her get two steps before he had her pinned.

  She rested her hands on his chest, momentarily preventing his lips from settling on hers. “What if someone sees us?”

  He frowned, a little crease appearing between his eyebrows. That was so cute. Pretty much everything he did was cute, even when he looked put out. “Who cares? They’re all inside anyway.”

  His casual who cares remark threw her, allowing him the kissing advantage. He settled his mouth on hers, slow and easy, her eyes sliding shut as he proceeded to kiss every rational thought out of her brain.

  Oh, boy. This could become a real addiction, real quick.

  Admiring his uniform shirt, she ran her hands down the front of his chest when he broke away from her lips. There was a shiny gold name badge pinned on the right side of his chest, right above the pocket. She slowly traced the letters, could feel him watching her, and it made her feel shy.

  So incredibly silly.

  “Weston Gallagher.” Harper glanced up at him, saw the way his gaze dropped to her mouth. Looked like he had a one-track mind tonight. “Did you ever think you’d be back here in Wildwood, Weston Gallagher?”

  He shook his head, leaning in to kiss her again, but she dodged him. Once they started that she wouldn’t want to stop and nothing was happening tonight at the station. She could guarantee that. His magic lips may cause her to lose all rational thought, but they were at his workplace. No way would she ever do something scandalous with him while he was on duty.

  Well. She didn’t think she would . . .

  “This was the last place I expected to find myself,” he admitted, rerouting his intent and burying his face against her neck. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in as close as she could get him. Just for a few seconds. Just so she could savor being in his arms.

  “Are you glad you’re back?” She held her breath, not only because he was nibbling her earlobe, but also because she waited for his answer.

  “Yeah. There are a lot of benefits to being back in Wildwood.” He lifted his head, smiling at her before he went in for another quick kiss.

  She let him have it this time. She never claimed she was any good at using restraint. “Such as?” she asked, blinking up at him. Would he say her? No, he couldn’t say her. That was expecting too much. Way, way too much.

  And she needed to remember that she expected nothing but a good time from West.

  He skimmed calloused fingers across her cheek, tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear, his gentle touch making her shiver. His hands were rough, a real man’s hands. A workingman’s hands, not a soft accountant-type hand in sight. Oh, she really, really liked those hands of his, especially when they were on her. “You’re pretty high up on that benefits list, Harper.”

  Her heart did a dramatic tumble in her chest, landing somewhere in the vicinity of her stomach. “So no regrets, Mr. Gallagher?” Why was she pretending to be some sort of demented reporter? And why was she asking him questions with answers that scared her?

  “None whatsoever so far.” He kissed her again, taking this one deeper. Longer. Helping her get lost in the sensual sweeps of his tongue, the way his fingers tangled up in her hair, his other hand sliding over her butt, back and forth, nudging her closer and closer.

  “West,” she whispered against his lips, trying to get him to stop. “We need to slow down.” Not just the kissing, but . . . everything. He knew just how to sweep her off her feet, but she couldn’t get too caught up. This was just sex with West. That was it.

  Just. Sex.

  “The hell we do.” He tilted his head, changing the angle of their kiss, and she tried to shove him away. She needed a clear head.

  “I’m serious.” She curled her hand into a fist and rapped it against the center of his chest, trying to fend him off. But he wasn’t budging. Of course he wasn’t budging. He was built like one of those towering pines that circled Wildwood. Tall and imposing and freaking impossible to move. “There will be no freaky business happening at this station.”

  He started to laugh. It was such a nice sound, rich and inviting. She remembered back in high school when he would laugh often, the sound so infectious that people would swarm around him, desperate to get near him, be his friend, his girlfriend, whatever. She’d never been lucky enough to be one of the coveted few who’d moved through life in West Gallagher’s social circle. Oh, she’d been closer to him than most, but being the best friend of his sister hadn’t really counted back then.

  She definitely remembered wishing for something more, for something like what they were sharing at this very exact moment. Firmly believing back then that what she yearned for was nothing but a fairy tale, a pipe dream, pie in the freaking sky.

  Whatever that saying meant. She should probably do a Google search on that later . . .

  Taking a deep breath, she tried to keep it together.

  Okay. Focusing.

  “Next you’ll tell me there will be no hanky-panky.” When she didn’t say anything he continued, looking perplexed. “My parents always used that saying. I thought it was dumb.”

  She could beat him. “My parents called it getting frisky. After a while, that just got embarrassing.” So incredibly embarrassing. But her parents had insisted that was their purpose in life—giving their kids as much grief as possible and making their life a living hell of constant embarrassment.

  “I think we should bring it back.” There went his mouth again, brushing against hers with infinite, excruciatingly slow care. “Getting frisky. I love it.”

  “You do not,” she mumbled against his mouth, a gasp escaping her when he licked—licked—her lips. Right there in the parking lot of the Wildwood fire station. He’d lost his mind.

  Well, so had she so at least they were equal.

  “Your tank top is ruining me for life,” he said as he rested both of his hands on her waist and slowly brought them up. Up. Until they rested just beneath her breasts, touching them but not really. More like a ghost of a touch, eliciting a phantom of a feeling.

  All the breath caught in her throat, but somehow she managed to talk. “What do you mean?”

  “Red and sexy, revealing just the slightest hint of cleavage without being blatant. The fabric clinging to your curves so I can see exactly how hard your nipples are.” He was leaning in. Yet again, the persistent man, but she dipped her head down to check out said nipples only to find them announcing to anyone who was looking that they were very, extremely hard. Damn her too-thin bra.

  “A gentleman wouldn’t look,” she chastised primly, hoping he could possibly stay a gentleman for a
few more minutes so God and anybody else on shift at the station wouldn’t see her getting felt up by their man in charge.

  “I never said I was a gentleman, Harper. You of all people should know that.” His amused tone was undeniable. As in, she couldn’t deny that she found every word that fell from his lips charming. Each way that he touched her, she wanted to find another way, and yet another way, again and again, in order to keep him keep on touching her.

  “Why did you kiss me that night?” she asked just as he started running his lips along the side of her neck.

  West lifted his head to look at her, his gaze full of confusion. “What night are you talking about?” His tone was casual. Too casual. He knew exactly what night she was referring to.

  “The night before you packed your bags and escaped Wildwood supposedly for good,” she reminded him, poking his chest with her index finger.

  His expression went from neutral to miserable in a split second. “I was a jackass that night.”

  “Totally.” Well. She’d had the time of her life that night. It was the next morning when she’d gotten so angry, when she discovered that he’d left without a good-bye. Kiss and run, that was West’s specialty.

  “You were just so pretty and sweet and looking at me with those big eyes of yours and . . . ” His voice drifted.

  “And?” she asked when he remained silent for too long.

  “And I couldn’t resist you. I wanted just one taste.” He tried to kiss her again, but she dodged him. “Once I had a taste, I wanted another. And another. You never protested.”

  She couldn’t protest, not when it came to West.

  “I’ve always felt like shit for ditching you like that,” he admitted.

  Dropping her gaze from his, she traced her index finger over his badge, trying her best to keep her composure. “It hurt, how you left. You never tried to contact me. Ever.”

  “I was an asshole.” He blew out a ragged breath. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re still an asshole.” A sexy asshole. She curled her hand into a fist and lightly pounded the center of his chest. “But I forgive you.”

  He slipped his fingers beneath her chin, tilting her face up so her gaze met his. “Really?”

  Harper nodded but remained silent. Her throat was suddenly clogged with all the words she couldn’t say.

  “Thank Christ,” he muttered just before he kissed her. Soft and slow and deliberate. He used his lips like weapons to obliterate all of her thoughts, her every possible protest.

  Whatever they were experiencing, this particular encounter—all of their encounters, really—couldn’t go any further. Nothing beyond the casual, oh let’s screw around and get it out of our system type of thing.

  And she definitely wasn’t going to let anything happen between them tonight. There were people who worked for him inside the barracks and he could get a call at any minute. She refused to let him feel her up or try to take her clothes off while they were outside pressed up against her car like two horny teenagers ready to go at it whatever chance they got.

  They were older now and more mature. They had homes. Careers. Lives.

  Well, not really, at least not in your case. You’re crashing at your grandma’s and West is paying rent on your old condo.

  Huh.

  And your so-called career is in the toilet. What do you plan on doing once you’re done cleaning out the office at the BFD? Do you even know?

  Harper frowned. Maybe she didn’t know. And who cared? She certainly didn’t. Not that she wanted to become dependent on a man and sweep his floors barefoot while a baby rested on her hip. No freaking way was she looking for something like that.

  She needed a man who believed in modern things, who used his brain for good and not for evil, who wanted nothing more but to take care of her, all the while believing in her to go out into the world and kick its ass.

  Could West be that man?

  Nah. Probably not. He said so himself that he wasn’t relationship material. But did he still think that way though? Besides, didn’t it sort of hurt, that she couldn’t have something . . . real with him?

  No. She wanted easy and casual, and that’s what she was getting. There was no need to raise her expectations. Lowering them was smarter. For once, she needed to guard her heart.

  Not lay it all out only for it to get smashed to bits.

  WHILE WEST HAD no problem appreciating a beautiful woman, he could usually keep his hands to himself, especially at work.

  He’d seen a few of his fellow employees lose their shit over women over the years. One captain he worked for had had a sweet, unsuspecting wife at home and a trashy girlfriend who’d visit him while he was on shift. They’d disappear nightly—rumor had it she’d given him blowjobs out back behind the garage.

  Yeah. That entire scenario had disgusted him. Rumor also had it that his own father had had a few illicit affairs himself back in the day. His parents’ marriage had been on shaky ground at one point. But somehow, his mother had forgiven his dad and taken him back. Their relationship was stronger than ever.

  But based on that tumultuous moment in his parents’ marriage, West’s view on relationships had been forever skewed. His feelings about his father were forever altered too, not that the old man cared too much. They still hadn’t spent any time together since West returned to Wildwood. Claimed he was too busy fishing out in his boat.

  Figured his father would rather fish alone out on the lake than see his son. Not that West really wanted to see him either.

  He’d never had a woman visit him while he was at the station. He’d never wanted a woman to visit him. Seemed best to keep his work and personal relationships separate, thank you very much. Yet seeing Harper when she emerged from her car wearing those tiny shorts and that clingy tank top had turned him into a slobbering fool. His hands had literally itched to get on her. And once they had, he still wasn’t satisfied. He wanted more.

  He wanted naked.

  Breathing deep, he tucked her close to him and glanced around, thankful no one was outside. They were all in the barracks, hanging out in the commons area and watching a movie. Ice-cream sundaes were being prepared when he’d gone outside to meet Harper and, while he could appreciate hot fudge sauce as much as the next guy, for once in his life he wasn’t thinking with his stomach.

  Instead, he was thinking with his unusually needy dick. Not the smartest move on his part. But one look at Harper smiling shyly at him, hot as hell with all that exposed skin, and he’d been a goner.

  A goner with a slight boner—that was a reckless combo. And there was the root of his problem. Harper made him feel reckless. Careless. A few days ago he had firmly told himself he couldn’t touch her. A few weeks ago he’d been pissed that he was in Wildwood in the first place.

  Now he was thankful to be back in his hometown because it meant that Harper was there too. And he’d not only touched her, he’d had his hands all over her, his fingers inside her, and oh yeah, his cock too. He wanted that again. Soon.

  If he hadn’t been called into work, he’d be doing it—her—right now. Talk about feeling resentful. And when she brought up their first kiss from so long ago? The night he both idealized and regretted, all at once? He’d broken out in a nervous sweat, too damn afraid she’d tell him to go to hell and run out on him once and for all.

  He deserved her resentment. Why she’d given him another chance, he wasn’t sure. But he wasn’t about to question it either.

  “What’s going on with that fire?” Harper asked.

  West blinked, trying to recall exactly which fire she could be referring to. Oh yeah . . .

  “Ten thousand acres and only eight percent contained.” At the shocked look on Harper’s face he continued. “It’s in El Dorado County, lots of rolling hills and forest up there. It’s all so dry it’s igniting with a snap of a finger.”

  “That’s awful,” she murmured against his chest.

  “Most of the land is unpopulated. No structures have
been threatened beyond a couple of old barns,” he reassured her, giving her a squeeze. He liked the way she felt in his arms. Probably liked it too much, but he couldn’t analyze that right now.

  He didn’t want to freak himself out.

  “So Tate’s out on the fire?”

  “Yeah. We sent a strike team up there and Tate’s engine was included.”

  West usually loved being called out on a strike team. Providing coverage for a complex fire meant he’d be gone for days, sometimes weeks at a time. And that meant the dollars just kept rolling in. All that overtime money he made over the years had gone straight into his savings account.

  But that had been when he was a firefighter. Now that he was a limited-term engineer, he was on a different pay structure. He’d received a decent promotion and pay raise, but it was calculated in another way now. Something he was still adjusting to.

  But now he was relieved that he didn’t have to go out on that call. Not like he could go home either what with the station being short on coverage, but at least he wasn’t gone.

  At least he had Harper snug in his arms.

  “Hey, how are you adjusting to your new position?” Harper asked, pushing him out of his thoughts.

  Ah, and she was a mind reader.

  “I like it here. It’s familiar. And I like everyone I work with. Tate’s a good guy. I could see us becoming friends.” He was surprised he’d admit that much to her, but it was true. And he’d never had a problem opening up to Harper. He just wasn’t good opening up with regards to the feelings he had for Harper.

  And didn’t thinking that just make him stand a little straighter?

  “He’s an awesome guy. Everyone likes him a lot around here. He’s a good fit,” she agreed.

  Jealousy reared its ugly head and he tamped it down. He was being ridiculous, though really, Tate was an all-around perfect motherfucker. Good-looking, strong, smart, fast; he had all the guys laughing and all the girls swooning. West should sort of hate him. But the dude was so damn nice, he couldn’t help but like him.

  “You like him that much, huh?” He heard the surliness in his tone. He sounded like a jealous asshole. Like he had any right to be jealous. Harper wasn’t his. Not really.