Braving the Heat

by Regan Black

  “This is too much, Mom.”

  “Not for two and not with stressful days ahead,” she countered with a serene smile.

  No point in arguing. His family was determined to read more into his hospitality toward Kenzie than necessary. “Got it.” When Kenzie went back to her life, they’d understand that alone was how he intended to remain.

  Back at the garage, he changed clothes and went into the shop to work, in an effort to keep his mind and hands off the woman living in his trailer. He didn’t see her until he walked into the office after his appointment with the potential buyer.

  She sent him that gorgeous smile. “Any luck?”

  “We might have a deal,” Stephen said. “He’s thinking it over.”

  “Is it a money issue or a wife issue?”

  Neither concern had crossed his mind. “Does it matter?”

  “Only if you want to close the deal,” she said, her gaze returning to the computer monitor.

  He shrugged. “Everything okay?”

  “Yes,” she replied absently. “Just tracking down parts for the Nova.”

  He went to the refrigerator, inexplicably reluctant to leave. “How is the hand feeling?”

  “Better.” She wiggled the tips of her fingers. “I haven’t decided if I should wear the brace for tomorrow’s depositions.”

  Stephen couldn’t think of a good reason to leave it off and waited for her to elaborate.

  “Is it a sign of my ‘frailty’ if I wear it or is it a reminder that Murtagh’s a jerk?”

  “Reminder,” he answered immediately. “The man attacked you in a place of business. Wear it and make sure everyone knows why you’re wearing it.”

  She frowned. “You’re probably right,” she said, twining the end of her braid around her finger.

  He had a sudden urge to see how her hair would look if she left it down. “How do you braid your hair with only one hand?”

  She did a double take and then laughed, the sound instantly brightening her face and the entire office. “Practice,” she teased. “Seriously, they told me I could leave the brace off to shower and all that.”

  An image of her in the shower filled his mind, pushing out all other coherent thoughts about cars or parts. Crap. He wasn’t as immune to her as he wanted to be. Needed to be. His hormones had picked the wrong time to come back online. He couldn’t let himself abuse her generous spirit just because she was nearby.

  “I’ll, ah, just get back out there. Let me know if the guy calls back about the Charger.”

  “Sure thing,” she replied.

  Somehow Stephen made it through the rest of evening without going into the office and pulling Kenzie into his arms.

  Chapter 8

  Kenzie was up and out of bed well before her six o’clock alarm on Monday morning. If she’d gotten any sleep at all overnight it was purely by accident. She’d tried reading, meditation and yoga, even a white-noise app on her phone, and still she hadn’t been able to quiet the worries that gained strength with every hour closer to deposition day.

  She wasn’t due at Paul’s law office until nine. If Murtagh hadn’t messed up her hand, she would be out in the garage burning off this extra energy and indulging in the eye candy that was Stephen elbow-deep in an engine.

  Showered, she tied her hair back loosely to give it time to dry. It was too early for her dress uniform, so she chose a camisole top and yoga shorts while she sliced a banana over her breakfast cereal. At the table, she poked at her food while she attempted to review the notes Paul had assembled since taking her case.

  Her gaze kept sliding to the class A uniform hanging on the front of the closet door. According to regulations, she could wear the skirt, but she could already picture Murtagh’s sneer if she walked in to the deposition with her legs showing. She and Paul had gone back and forth over the wardrobe options and decided the formal uniform sent the most professional and competent message. If Murtagh had his day in court, she’d be wearing the thing far too often during the trial.

  She shifted, putting her back to the uniform, and forced down a few more bites of breakfast. When her stomach protested, she dumped the remainder into the trash and took care of her dishes. Her mood lifted a little when she heard the music pumping out from the shop.

  Though she had no idea if the desire simmering between her and Stephen would amount to anything, it was comforting to know he would be here when she was done with the legal processes today.

  She could get lost in his kisses every day for the rest of her life and still want more. Friendship was a good thing. Loyal, genuine and candid, Stephen was the best kind of friend to have in her corner. If that’s all he could give her, she wouldn’t be greedy.

  Taking care with every aspect of her appearance, she dried her hair and brushed it back into a bun at the nape of her neck. She deftly applied subtle makeup and dressed, thinking about each layer as more armor against Murtagh. Sliding into her patent leather pumps, she patted gloss onto her lips and put the brace on her wrist. With her hat under her arm and a purse that matched her shoes in hand, she left the camper. Whatever happened next, she would handle it with professionalism and dignity.

  Stephen stepped outside and she fought the urge to walk right into the shop, lower the door and never come out again. Other than the firehouse, this was the safest place she’d known since her dad died.

  “Looking sharp,” he said in his quiet way.

  He might as well have recited a sonnet, she thought as she felt the heat rising in her cheeks under his serious gaze. “Thank you.” She rolled her shoulders back. So many thoughts rattled through her head all at once. Stephen. The case. That kiss. The talking points Paul had given her. Stephen.

  “You’ve got the brace on?”

  She lifted it so he could see it better, wishing she could have a hug—or kiss—for luck.

  He nodded once. “Go get him.”

  Oddly enough, those three words were exactly what she needed. She climbed into the loaner and left the yard, heading downtown to her lawyer’s office. She’d just found a parking space in the garage two blocks away when her cell phone sounded with the tone she’d assigned to Paul.

  She answered on the next ring. “Hello?”

  “Where are you?” Paul asked in a low voice, as if he didn’t want to be overheard.

  “I just parked.” She looked at the dash clock. She was on schedule to arrive fifteen minutes early. “What’s wrong?”

  “Go home.”

  “Pardon me?” Technically, she didn’t have a home until the landlord finished the repair work.

  “Do not come into this office.”

  “But—”

  “Go straight home. Don’t stop anywhere. Keep your phone close.”

  She tried to ask another question and realized he’d disconnected. What had Marburg and Murtagh done now? It took her only a few seconds to discard the idea of walking into the office and demanding answers. She’d hired him to handle this case and he hadn’t let her down yet.

  Following directions, she drove straight back to the garage.

  Stephen came out, a shop towel over his shoulder, a worried frown pleating his brow. “What’s wrong?”

  “Paul sent me away,” she replied, fuming.

  “Why?”

  Great question. Too bad she didn’t have any answers. “I don’t know.” She had to pause and gather her composure before she could relay what had happened in the parking garage. “I guess I’ll be your receptionist today. Give me a few minutes to change.”

  “You know I don’t need a receptionist,” he said, trailing her.

  She was amped up just enough that if he stepped a toe inside the camper she’d throw herself at him. Those hot kisses of his would go a long way to vaporizing the crazy scenarios running through her mind. What was going on?

  “The
n you’d better find something else for me to do,” she said. She stomped up the steps and slammed the door.

  With her hands trembling and her constant check of her phone display, it took her twice as long to get out of her dress uniform and hang it up neatly. She was angry, with no clear target. For all she knew Murtagh was dropping the case. Or the judge had changed his mind about the frivolous nature of the case. Whatever it was, she wanted to know.

  She found her favorite cutoffs and a T-shirt she’d picked up for free from one of the bands passing through the Escape Club. Dressed, she double-checked that her phone was set to the loudest alert, with the vibration on. Tucking it into her back pocket, she grabbed a pair of socks. She shoved her bare feet into flip-flops and crossed to the office, where her work boots waited under the desk.

  Proving his vast wisdom, Stephen had taken shelter in the shop.

  Proving she had a measure of common sense left, she traded the flip-flops for the boots and sat down to work. Whether he needed her or not, she could manage the phones and handle some invoicing with the bum hand. More importantly, those tasks had clear results. She needed that illusion of control while she waited for news from her lawyer.

  The day ticked on and the only positive she could see was the lack of media outside. It seemed only fair that she might learn what was happening before the reporters caught wind of it.

  At lunchtime, her stomach was too jittery to be of any guidance. She wandered into the shop to ask Stephen what he wanted her to order. Ignoring the Nova waiting for attention she couldn’t provide, she let her gaze rest on Stephen. As she breathed in the pungent air of a working garage, a lovely calm unfurled inside her.

  “You should have coveralls on,” he said, without looking her way.

  Just to prove she didn’t care about stains, she boosted herself up to sit on the edge of a workbench.

  “Feeling better?” he asked.

  “A little,” she admitted. “You need lunch.”

  From under the hood of a sedan, he turned, one eyebrow lifting. “You don’t?”

  She looked away. “Subs or pizza?” Either choice gave her a meal for later, assuming her stomach would settle down once Paul explained things.

  “Pizza,” he replied. “Add one of those chopped salads to our usual order.”

  Her gaze snapped back to him, though his attention was on the engine. Was he trying to take care of her or was he expecting someone? “Why?”

  “My mother taught me to eat my veggies.”

  She twisted around and used the phone to place the order for delivery. When she was done, it slowly dawned on her that they did have a usual order. After little more than a week of bumping along, they had a routine that he seemed comfortable with. Did he realize it?

  Not that her assessment signified anything between them on a personal level, but he seemed to be relaxing about having someone other than Mitch in the shop with him regularly. Growth was a good thing, especially for Stephen, who showed signs of being stuck too long in his own head.

  They didn’t talk much over lunch, which was probably for the best. With Stephen hovering, she managed to eat an entire slice of pizza in an effort to avoid a lecture. As she was storing the leftovers in the refrigerator, his cell phone sounded.

  He scowled at the display and, in the process of sending a text message reply, walked out of the office. Telling herself it was absurd to be jealous that he was getting text messages, she returned to the desk and willed the business phone to ring.

  Desperate to stay busy, she started cleaning every visible surface in the office. She’d just finished mopping the floor when her cell phone shivered and screeched from her back pocket. The display showed it was Paul. “Finally,” she said as she answered.

  “You’re at Galway Automotive?” he asked without any greeting.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m on my way,” he said. “Just sit tight.”

  Her hand gripped the mop handle hard. “What happened?”

  “The short version is it’s over,” he said. “Murtagh dropped his suit. I’ll explain everything, but I don’t want to do it over the phone.”

  The call ended and she stood there, utterly stunned, leaning on the mop for support.

  “You all right?”

  She gave a start at the sound of Stephen’s voice. He was watching her from the office doorway, and he looked as if he wanted to smile. Or give her a high five. Or something.

  “What do you know?”

  “It looks great in here. Thanks.”

  “Stephen, stop messing with me.”

  His rare grin broke free and he gave the floor a long perusal before walking in. “Julia said she was on her way over with good news about your case.”

  If he’d known since lunch and hadn’t shared, Kenzie wouldn’t be responsible for her reaction. “When did she say that?”

  “About three minutes ago.”

  She was tempted to ask him to show her his phone and prove it. That was too much of a jealous, insecure girlfriend move. “Well, it’s a good thing I cleaned up if we’re entertaining pricey lawyers again,” she quipped.

  Stephen made a sound that might have been a laugh. She was too antsy about what Paul had to say to trust her interpretation.

  Fortunately, she didn’t have long to wait. Julia arrived moments before Paul, but refused to spoil what she referred to as Paul’s victory speech. When the four of them were gathered in the office, Paul explained that he was able to catch Murtagh lying about Kenzie’s rescue efforts in the deposition. Faced with the perjury, the judge questioned Murtagh further and then tossed out the case.

  “Murtagh is supposed to cover your legal fees, too,” Paul added.

  She felt as if a thousand-pound anvil had been lifted from her shoulders.

  “And Marburg has issued a press release distancing the firm from Murtagh,” Julia said. “I expect it to break on the early evening news. Though I wasn’t on his legal team, I did make sure it was okay if I was here to share the news. As a friend.”

  Kenzie wrapped Julia in a big hug, swaying from side to side. Next, she embraced Paul. “I can’t tell you how happy I am.” She looked across the room to Stephen and decided to save his hug for later.

  “There’s more,” Paul said. “Assuming your hand is examined and cleared for duty by a PFD doctor, you can go back on shift as early as tomorrow.”

  “What?” She was sure she hadn’t heard him correctly. Her life was snapping back into place almost as quickly as it had shattered.

  “That was the last piece of the puzzle,” Paul said. “I’ve spoken with Chief Anderson and he asked you to come by the firehouse tomorrow regardless of what the doctor says.”

  She checked the wall clock, wondering if she could wedge herself into a doctor’s schedule yet this afternoon.

  “Tonight, though,” Julia said, “you’re expected at the Escape Club for a celebration.” She waved her phone. “Grant’s orders.” She looked to Stephen and Paul. “He’s expecting all of us.”

  “We’ll be there,” Kenzie answered, before Stephen could make some excuse.

  When they were alone, it seemed the moment for hugging him had passed. Shame on her for missing a prime opportunity. “You could take the Charger tonight,” she suggested. “Might get some new interest.”

  “We’ll see. You should get over to the doctor’s office.” With only a hint of a frown on his face, he turned toward the shop.

  With a happy gasp, she lunged for the smaller suitcase that had been shoved against the storeroom wall with her other boxed-up belongings.

  “What are you looking for?” Stephen had followed her and braced a shoulder against the door jamb.

  “My station gear...” She put a little song into the words as she repeated them while she searched. She could proudly wear her uniform again. “I can’t go to the doctor
for a PFD exam in cutoffs.” Hearing him chuckle, she turned around. “Are you laughing at me?”

  “Hard not to,” he said. “You’re as excited as a kid on Christmas morning.”

  She wrestled out the clothing and shoes she needed, the smile on her face making her cheeks ache in the best way. She did a little happy dance and earned a real laugh from him. Though unpracticed, it was still a great sound. “I’m a firefighter again.”

  Kenzie wanted to get moving, but Stephen filled the doorway. She wasn’t sure she could get by without burrowing into that quiet strength and lingering in an embrace she could easily crave.

  “You never stopped being who you are,” he said.

  There was an odd note of curiosity in his voice and a distance in his hazel eyes that drew her full attention. “What do you mean?”

  He stepped back, letting her out of the storeroom. “It takes guts to keep living and believing when your life is torn up. You’re an inspiration, Kenzie.” He raised her braced hand and kissed her fingertips. Then he walked out of the office and into the shop.

  Astonished, her fingertips tingling, Kenzie soaked in the moment.

  His laughter and words and the feelings coursing through her and the potential meaning behind all of it... If she didn’t have to get her hand checked for work, she would be pursuing this conversation right now. As it was, she made a mental note to discuss it further tonight.

  Changed and ready to go, she waved goodbye to Stephen as she climbed into the loaner. She needed some distance to stay on task. She carried the ER report with her to the doctor’s office, practically floating while she waited to be seen. Stephen might be right that she’d never stopped being a firefighter, but wearing the uniform made it so wonderfully official.

  The doctor cleared her for duty and she sent Stephen a happy-dance text message. Adding the report to the paperwork she would take to the chief in the morning, she headed back to the garage. Stephen was still working, so she scanned the reports into the computer and sent them on through official channels before she went to the camper to dress for the celebration at the Escape Club.