Just a Little Bet (Where There's Smoke)

by Tawna Fenske

  “Peanut butter,” he said.

  Kayla blinked. “What?”

  “That’s what I forgot to bring. Peanut butter to put on crackers. Gotta have road-trip snacks.”

  “Right. I’m sure we can grab some at our next stop.” She closed the book, needing a break for a bit. She also needed to stop ogling her best friend’s abs, even if they had felt amazing pressed against her the other night.

  He glanced over and winked. “Want to play a road-trip game?”

  “Like twenty questions?”

  “Or the alphabet game,” he said. “The one where you look at road signs to find letters of the alphabet in order?”

  Kayla scanned the long stretch of highway dotted with sagebrush and junipers. Not a lot of signs in sight. “How about kiss, marry, kill?”

  “What’s that?”

  She wiggled her toes on the dash, enjoying the cool flutter of air conditioning. “We take turns naming three random celebrities,” she said. “Or they could be musicians or cartoon characters or whatever. You have to decide which one you’d kiss, which one you’d marry, and which one you’d kill.”

  He glanced over and raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like another middle school game. Proceed.”

  “Um, let me think.” She rubbed her palms down her denim-clad thighs and tried to come up with something. “Okay. Marge Simpson, Judy Jetson, and Princess Fiona from Shrek.”

  “Those are my choices?”

  She grinned. “Those are your choices.”

  Frowning at the highway, Tony considered it. “I’m not keen on killing anyone, but Judy Jetson’s gotta be pushing ninety, since that show came out in the early sixties. So I guess I’ll go with her.”

  “To kill?”

  His brow furrowed. “Do we really have to do that part?”

  “Yep, it’s the game.”

  “Okay, then yes.” He tapped the brakes as a rabbit darted out in the road, then changed its mind and scurried back. Tony swerved to avoid hitting it, expertly keeping the Jeep on the road.

  “Princess Fiona seems really happy with Shrek, so I’m not going to fuck that up for them,” he continued. “Just a peck on the cheek is okay, right?”

  Kayla eyed him, surprised by how seriously he seemed to be taking this. “Does this mean you’re marrying Marge Simpson?”

  He shrugged and tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel. “Homer’s kind of a dick, and she always seemed like a cool lady. Might as well get her out of that.”

  “Wow.” Kayla stared at him. “So you’re seeing marriage as—what? A chance to rescue someone?”

  Tony frowned. “That’s not what I said.”

  “No, but you implied it.” She laughed and dropped her feet to the floor. “No wonder we didn’t work out.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I don’t need anyone rescuing me,” she said. “If some sort of hero complex is the driving force behind—”

  “I do not have a hero complex.” His words came out so forceful, even Tony seemed surprised. “I just don’t like seeing anyone in a lousy marriage. There’s too goddamn many of those in the world.”

  He wasn’t meeting her eyes, which was probably just because he needed to watch the road. But Kayla couldn’t help feeling a dark fog hovering over this conversation.

  “Fair enough,” she said mildly. “For what it’s worth, that’s very noble. Maybe not the best reason to marry someone, but not the worst, either.”

  “It’s not like you gave me great choices,” he pointed out.

  “Okay, you go. Give me three picks.”

  His frown tipped up at the edges, and suddenly he was grinning again. “Fine. Tom Hanks, Denzel Washington, and Kevin Bacon.”

  “Ooh, good choices.” Kayla tucked a knee up under her. “At their current ages, or do I get to choose my favorite roles they’ve played?”

  “Current ages,” Tony said definitively.

  Kayla laughed. “Says the guy who killed a geriatric Judy Jetson. Okay, I’m going to go ahead and kill Kevin Bacon. I never forgave him for being the guy who cheated with Julianne Moore and broke Steve Carell’s heart.”

  “Which movie was that?”

  “Crazy, Stupid, Love,” she said. “A brilliant—and dare I say highly underrated—romantic comedy.”

  He glanced over at her. “How come you’ve never made me watch it?”

  “The fact that you just said made you watch it is exactly why,” she said. “I don’t want your machismo sullying a movie so near and dear to my heart.”

  “I’m wounded,” Tony deadpanned. “For the record, I’m a sensitive guy who digs the occasional rom-com.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Kayla got back to considering her options in the game. “Okay, so it comes down to Tom Hanks and Denzel Washington. Both are brilliant actors. Tom’s got a great mix between comedy and drama, where Denzel is a little more serious. But Denzel has the sex appeal thing going for him, while Tom just doesn’t curl my toes.”

  Tony gave a low whistle. “Nice in-depth analysis.”

  “Thanks.” She grinned. “You set the bar high with your thoughtful response.”

  “Yeah, but you’re better at it than I am.”

  She shrugged and grabbed her Hydro Flask to take a swig of water. “I do tend to overanalyze relationships.” Could be why she hadn’t managed to find her soul mate. “Not that it’s gotten me to the finish line.”

  He frowned. “What the hell is the finish line?”

  “Marriage. Babies. All the things you claim not to want but secretly might.”

  He gave her a pained look and eased over to slip by a truck hauling huge bales of hay. “This bet is going to be the death of me. You’re going to spend the next couple weeks fiddling around in my brain, aren’t you?”

  “Not if you don’t want me to.” She studied the side of his face as he steered them safely in front of the hay truck. “I just think a road trip is a perfect time for self-reflection.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  “Okay. So kiss, marry, kill.” She forced her brain back to the game. “I think I’m going to marry Denzel. The way he owned up to all his mistakes at the end of Flight seals the deal.”

  Tony shifted his eyes off the road and looked at her. “That seems noteworthy, don’t you think?”

  “How do you figure?”

  “He played a raging asshole for 97 percent of that movie. But you focus on the redemption scene at the end.” He flashed her a grin. “It’s actually kind of sweet.”

  She felt her forehead creasing. “Are you calling me a Pollyanna?”

  “Hey, I didn’t say it. You did.”

  Kayla rolled her eyes. “Is it too late to play the alphabet game?”

  He laughed and picked up his cup of McDonald’s iced tea. “I’m sensing a trend here. We can play whatever you want, sweetheart.”

  She dropped her foot to the floor and grabbed her own cup of soda. “I spy with my little eye…”

  …

  Tony went to bed early.

  Not to sleep—to avoid Kayla. Between all their games that reminded him of being a kid and her head-shrinking talk, he’d been worried she’d dig up stuff he wasn’t ready to deal with. Stuff he didn’t talk about with anyone, ever.

  They’d checked in at the roadside motel and eaten a quick dinner nearby, then retired to separate rooms. That’s how he found himself crawling under the covers before the sun was all the way down.

  Then he crawled back out because dammit, he forgot to call Grady and remind him to grab the amps out of his garage. Tony had been in charge of packing up the gear the last time their band had played Boyton Ballroom, and he’d forgotten to hand them off before he left town. See? This was how distracted he’d been by Kayla’s idea—by this ridiculous bet that might not be so ridiculous
.

  “Hey, man.” Grady picked up on the first ring, sounding downright cheerful.

  That happened a lot since the bastard got married.

  “I’m a dick. I forgot to hand off the amps,” Tony said by way of greeting.

  “No big deal. We don’t have any gigs booked. Besides, I’ve still got that spare key you gave me.”

  “Right. You can grab ‘em whenever you want.”

  This was probably the time to hang up. It’s not like he was in the habit of chatting on the phone with his teammates about plans and feelings and shit like that.

  But somehow he heard himself asking Grady, “Do you think this is a dumb idea?”

  Silence. Then Grady cleared his throat. “What, you mean visiting your exes?”

  “Yeah. You’re the only one who knows, by the way.”

  Grady laughed. “Yeah. I figured. Heard a couple other guys talking about your big trip to see some old burn scars, but no one said a word about old flames.”

  “Yeah, well…it’s no one else’s business.”

  “I don’t think it’s dumb,” Grady said, getting back to the original question. “I’m a fan of anything that helps a teammate pull his head out of his ass.”

  “Hey—”

  “Which you helped me with last year when I almost messed things up with Willa,” Grady reminded him. “So yeah, I’d like to see you be happy. And maybe this is how you get there.”

  Happy. That’s definitely what Grady seemed to be since Willa came into his life. Hell, maybe that should be reason enough to think that kind of thing was possible.

  But Tony had seen plenty of evidence to the contrary. Enough to convince him it was a helluva lot harder than it looked.

  “Where are you, anyway?” Grady asked.

  “Boise,” he said. “We decided to stop instead of driving through.”

  “Good call.” A pause. “Kayla there?”

  Tony didn’t have to ask what he meant. “We got separate rooms,” he said. “Figured we could both use some space.”

  “Probably smart.” This time, the pause lasted a good ten seconds. So long Tony thought he’d lost the connection. Then: “For what it’s worth,” Grady added slowly, “I always liked the two of you together.”

  “Nah, we’re way better friends than lovers.” They were the same words he’d recited a year ago when they’d split, but they sounded weirdly hollow now. “Not like you and Willa.”

  “No one’s like me and Willa.” He laughed, though Tony wasn’t sure he got the joke. “I’m not saying that because we’re the pinnacle of perfect relationships. I just mean it’s dumb to look at what someone else has going on and think that’s the thing you should be aiming for yourself.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing. Just talking out of my ass.”

  Tony didn’t think so, but he was ready to be done with this conversation. He’d already had his head shrunk enough for one trip, and they were only a day into this.

  “I should get off,” he said.

  “Take care, man.”

  “Same.”

  He disconnected the call, feeling an odd sense of missing his buddy. His teammates. It was like this at the end of every season. Fire crews were tight, like family. Tighter than family, actually. Risking your life on a daily basis had a way of bringing people together.

  Plugging the charger into his phone, he flipped off the light and lay back in the darkness. Might as well get some shut-eye. Tomorrow’s adventure included navigating some tricky backwoods roads beyond Twin Falls. Plus, they’d be meeting with an old girlfriend for lunch. A casual thing, but still. He really should rest.

  Instead, he picked up the remote. The hotel had movies on demand, and he found himself scrolling through the library, typing in the letters C-R-A-Z-Y before he even knew what he was looking for.

  There. The movie Kayla loved, which he’d never known about before. Crazy, Stupid, Love. How come he hadn’t watched it with her? They’d watched zillions of movies together. Even a few in that brief window when they’d been more than friends.

  “I feel like this isn’t going anywhere.”

  Those were her words the day she dumped his ass more than a year ago, though she wasn’t the only one to say them. Half the women who’d dumped him had said some variation of that.

  “We were so hot and heavy at the start,” she’d continued, staring earnestly into his eyes. “But it’s like I can feel you pulling back. You’re putting up these walls, and I can’t figure out why, but I know this isn’t the sort of relationship I want.”

  It wasn’t what Tony wanted, either. He hadn’t said that at the time. Just nodded and agreed and gave her a hug, along with the usual bullshit about staying friends. And they had stayed friends. Best friends, which went beyond what he’d done with most of the others.

  Carrie. Courtney. Jessi. Jaylin. Abby. Just a few of the women who’d once shared his life and his bed, at least for a short time. They’d started to blend together into a fond, familiar stew of women he’d cared for—still cared for—and who, once upon a time, had caved to a momentary lapse in judgment and dated someone as screwed up as him.

  A familiar laugh from the wall behind his head jolted him from his dumbass memories. Kayla. He’d know that laugh anywhere. She must be on the phone with one of her sisters, or maybe laughing with Willa about how handily she expected to win this bet. He couldn’t even remember the terms, honestly. He got the Emerald Whiskey if he was a bad boyfriend, and she got it if he was a plain old commitment-phobe? Something like that.

  Her laugh rang out again and he knew she wasn’t laughing at him. That wasn’t her style. She was kind and supportive and loyal to a fault. Probably why she’d given the benefit of the doubt to so many douchebag men she’d dated. She was too trusting—too inclined to see the good in everyone.

  He loved that about her.

  Shaking his head, he hit “play” on the remote and watched the movie flicker to life. At least he’d get a happy ending from this. That was the deal with romance, right?

  He settled in to watch, pretty sure he’d never get that on his own.

  Chapter Four

  Kayla anchored her elbows on the faded blue table and scanned the menu. “Should we wait a few more minutes or go ahead and order?”

  Across from her in the booth, Tony shrugged. “Carrie’s always late. She won’t mind if we go ahead.”

  Setting the menu down, Kayla scanned the cozy little diner. A jukebox blinked brightly in the corner, and an old-fashioned soda fountain occupied the opposite corner. Just outside, she could see the Snake River chugging along through the trees. The hills beyond that bore black scars, a reminder of the fire that swept through years earlier. If it hadn’t been for Tony and the other fire crews, it could have been so much worse.

  “Does this feel weird?” she asked, swinging her gaze back to him. “Having lunch with an old girlfriend, I mean.”

  “Nah.” He folded his forearms on the table, muscles flexing. “Carrie’s a cool chick. Did I tell you her husband’s an arson inspector?”

  “You might have mentioned it.” Which, of course, Kayla had committed to memory. For some reason, she was fascinated by Tony’s string of ex-girlfriends. Not jealous—that wasn’t it at all—just intrigued by how many there were.

  “There she is.” Tony stood up and waved across the diner.

  Kayla stood, too, turning to face a petite blonde who could have passed as Aislin’s sister. Same blue eyes, same cute figure. Her hair was a little longer, and, as she approached the table, Kayla could see her complexion was different. Rosy instead of fair, with a sprinkling of freckles across her nose. She was utterly adorable.

  “You must be Kayla,” Carrie said, pulling her in for a hug before Kayla had a chance to think about how they’d greet each other. “I’ve heard so much about
you.”

  “Same.” Kayla squeezed back, wondering what Tony had shared. “It’s great to finally meet you.”

  They drew apart, and Carrie moved to hug Tony. But her gaze flicked quickly toward the door, and she jerked back.

  “Boys! Stop it right now and come here.”

  Kayla blinked, then looked over to where two adorable boys—twins, from the look of it—were climbing on the hostess stand. They wore matching red shirts and sneakers and turned to face their mother’s wrath with faces dotted by freckles.

  “Mom!” one of them howled. “He took my—”

  “I don’t care.” Carrie stomped across the diner and grabbed each boy by the arm. “Tyson, Tyler, these are my friends Tony and Kayla. Remember how Mommy told you about her friends?”

  The twin on the left looked at Kayla and wrinkled his nose. “What does your shirt say?”

  Kayla glanced down at her tee, which bore a blue-and-green drawing of the globe and the words Keep Earth clean; it isn’t Uranus.

  Meeting Carrie’s eyes again, she gave an apologetic shrug. “It says keep Earth clean,” she said, deliberately omitting the rest.

  She’d worn it today because it was one of her favorites, and also to set a fun, casual, meeting-my-ex’s-ex-in-a-small-town-diner vibe. How was she supposed to know Carrie would bring children?

  “Sorry about this,” Carrie said, rumpling her boys’ hair. “Their sitter called in sick. I would have cancelled, but I know you’re only here a short while.”

  “No problem.” Tony stooped down and stuck his hand out to the boys. “I’m Tony. How old are you guys?”

  The boys looked suspiciously at his hand, then at each other. “Five.” The twin on the left frowned. “What does your shirt say?”

  Tony tugged the cotton away from his broad chest, giving them a better look. “It says Hart Valley Smokejumpers. Do you know what smokejumpers do?”