Taste the Heat

by Rachel Harris

  When his old man hadn’t been glued to the television set in the living room, he’d headed here. And now that he’d found the man in his favorite hiding spot, Jason knew something was wrong.

  By nature, Robert Landry was outgoing and talkative. He had a way of pulling anyone around him into a conversation, and he could go on forever about almost anything. Anything except his feelings, that is. Other than anger, emotions of any kind, in his father’s opinion, were strictly women’s territory. But after the assembly, he’d been uncharacteristically quiet.

  “Huh?” His father spun his leather executive chair away from the window, looking up with an expression that said he’d been somewhere else entirely. “Oh, sure, sure.”

  Jason nodded, not for a moment believing it. Wisps of the man’s hair stood on end, as if he’d raked his fingers through it without thought, and his mouth was set in an inscrutable line.

  Gesturing from behind a desk cluttered with fishing knickknacks, a bowl of hard candy, and framed pictures of Emma, he said, “But close the door and sit with me for a spell, will you?”

  Warily, Jason turned around and did as asked, his palm lingering on the stained wood. The last time his dad asked him to “sit for a spell,” he had been nine and about to be reamed for pantsing his cousin at a crawfish boil. The same feeling he got then—and the one he still got right before he ran into a burning building—began churning in his gut. But this was why he had sought his father out. To see what was going on in that noggin of his. So he took a seat on the armrest of a wingback chair and asked again, “You sure everything’s all right?”

  His father nodded wordlessly, focusing on a point just above Jason’s head. He pinched his pursed lips between thick fingers. The second hand on the mounted trout clock ticked ten times, then in a thoughtful voice, his father broke the silence.

  “I loved Ashleigh like she was my own daughter.”

  The muscles in Jason’s back tensed. And the churning feeling in his stomach escalated. Of all the things that could’ve come out his old man’s mouth, he never would’ve expected that.

  It’s not that he doubted his father’s sincerity—he had treated Ashleigh like a daughter. But in the last four years, Jason couldn’t recall a single conversation his father had initiated about her.

  Where is he going with this?

  His father’s clear eyes met his. “She was a good woman, son. A strong woman. And this family will always miss her.”

  Now it was Jason’s turn to nod, his throat closing like it did every time talk turned to his wife. Swallowing past the emotion, he said, “I know, Dad. And Ashleigh would’ve loved being there today.” His lips tugged into a smile, picturing it.

  His wife had been the proudest, most involved mom he’d ever seen. And that was saying a lot, since his gave the mother on Everybody Loves Raymond a run for her money. But from the day Emma had entered kindergarten, Ashleigh had been the class mom. She’d been the go-to helper when the teachers needed anything. A story reader, field trip chaperone, class play organizer. She’d made it a priority to enroll Emma in every activity their daughter showed a remote interest in, and she never missed a single class, game, or performance. When she died, along with leaving him with a broken heart, Ashleigh had left behind impossible shoes to fill, especially for a single parent. But Jason had done his best to fill them. And he’d done a damn good job, too.

  He never missed a game or performance, either. He signed up for more than his share of field trip duty. And he even learned how to sew so he could add Emma’s Girl Scout patches to her uniform. Sure, his mom could’ve done it, but he wanted to. He hated asking for more help than was absolutely necessary. His parents already pitched in enough, watching her during his all-day shifts, driving her to and from school, and helping with her homework. It was hard enough being a firefighter with two parents at home much less with only one, but somehow he and Emma had made it work.

  But now, Jason was ready to move past simply making it work. He was finally ready to give Emma the life that a drug addict stole from her four years ago.

  Suddenly eager to be back in the kitchen, cooking beside his daughter and staring into Colby’s smoldering eyes, Jason stood and gestured toward the door. “Well, I just wanted to check in.” He took a step in the direction of the exit. “But we have company so I guess I should—”

  “Son, wait a minute.”

  Jason exhaled. Apparently, there was more to the man’s strange mood than thoughts of Ashleigh. His father rose from the chair, his bushy eyebrows drawn together. As he walked around the desk, Jason sank into the worn out cushion of the upholstered chair. “All right, Dad. Something is obviously bothering you.” He swiped a Wild Cherry Life Saver from the glass candy dish in front of him and propped his ankle on his knee, feeling like a skipping track on Emma’s iPod as he asked again, “What’s going on?”

  Snatching a Butter Rum candy from the bowl, his father popped it into his mouth and chomped loudly, breaking it into tiny pieces as his fingers played absently with the plastic wrapper. “You know your mother worries about you,” he said, dropping the bomb as if it was common knowledge. Actually, Jason hadn’t known that. But he probably should have. The woman worried about everything. Then the old man scratched the side of his neck and added gruffly, “We both do.”

  His father coughed and looked away—but not before Jason saw the unmistakable sheen in his eyes. It would’ve been less jarring if the man had punched him, though the effect would feel about the same. He watched his father push to his feet and stride toward the window overlooking the backyard.

  Centered in the blind-covered frame stood a large oak tree, his dad’s favorite hammock swaying below it in the late spring breeze. His childhood tree house was perched high above that. Jason still remembered everything about the summer he and his dad built it. For weeks, they’d poured over design books, choosing the perfect model and then selecting just the right wood. They had gathered materials, talked strategy, and set to work putting it together. While they labored, they’d discussed “manly” things: the correct tool for the job, LSU and Saints football, girls, and even school—but never anything deeper than that. In fact, other than the time his father held his newborn granddaughter in the hospital or slapped Jason’s back at Ashleigh’s funeral, this was the most emotion he’d ever seen his father express.

  “When you and Ashleigh first came to me, saying you wanted to get married and raise Emma, I had my concerns.” He flicked a slat of the blinds, for all appearances consumed with the blades of grass in his lawn. “I knew you were doing the right thing, but in many ways you were children yourselves. A marriage needs more than just attraction. It takes commitment and love. The kind of love that can endure a hurricane and still stand come morning. To be frank, I wasn’t sure the two of you had it. But you proved me wrong. That girl loved you, and I know you loved her.” He released the blind caught between his fingers. “I could see it when you looked at her.”

  When his father turned, the cloud that had overshadowed him all afternoon lifted as a relieved smile broke across his face. “That same look was in your eyes today.”

  Jason’s eyebrows snapped together. Of course he loved Emma. Was that supposed to be a revelation? He asked his father as much, but the old man didn’t answer. He just kept watching him with a strange look of annoying, unprecedented patience. Then after a moment, the meaning behind his words finally sank in.

  “Wait, you think I’m in love with Colby?”

  His father shrugged a shoulder. A shade of uncertainty crept into his tone as he said, “I admit I thought it was rather soon. You’ve only become acquainted again for a couple weeks—”

  “Eleven days,” Jason cut in.

  The whiskers framing his mouth twitched. “Eleven days,” he amended. “But the heart doesn’t always work on a timetable. And besides, you’ve known Colby a long time. The two of you did grow up together.”

  Jason pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering what in the hell was
happening. His emotion-free dad was talking about the heart, for God’s sake. What would the old man do for an encore, quote Oprah?

  Through the crack in the door, Jason could smell sautéed bell peppers and onions. He could be out there, sampling whatever it was the women were cooking, and pretending this entire conversation had never happened. His legs twitched with the desire to bolt. But he owed it to his normally tightlipped father to hear him out—even if what he was saying was completely ridiculous.

  His father steepled his fingers and studied him. “Listen son, life dealt you a hell of a hand. It takes time to recover from something like that. But you deserve to be happy.” His voice grew thick with meaning as he added, “And so does my granddaughter.”

  Of all the things he said, those words rankled. Jason shot to his feet. No shit, Emma deserved to be happy. That was why he’d started thinking about marriage again in the first place. Everything he did was for his daughter.

  From his perch beside the window, his father watched silently as Jason paced the length of the room.

  There was no doubt that over the last week and a half, Colby had made a difference in their lives. She’d been there during the debacle at the convenience store. She’d offered Emma advice that no amount of book reading would’ve prepared Jason to give. And she’d given his daughter a much needed role model. As for him, Colby had brought him to life again. She made him laugh, turned him on, and had him feeling things he hadn’t felt in years—but that didn’t include love. It couldn’t.

  Right?

  Jason shoved a hand through his hair. After Ashleigh died, his heart had closed itself off. It wasn’t something he’d consciously tried to do, it just happened. Self-preservation. He assumed it would always stay that way. That he would want it to stay that way. But could his father be right?

  Jason admired Colby. He desired her. They had a level of comfort with each other that could take him years to develop with someone else, and for the kind of marriage he wanted, there was no woman in the world who fit him better. She was great with Emma, and his daughter adored her… But did all that mean he could fall for her?

  More than the voice in his head screaming yes, his father’s reputation had him wavering. In the Magnolia Springs fire department, Robert Landry’s shrewd, astute observations were stuff of legend. In an emergency or pressure situation, he’d been the guy people turned to. He was always able to size up a problem in moments and make a judgment call. And 99.9 percent of the time, those decisions had been dead on. They had saved lives. But in this case, if his father was right, all of Jason’s plans were up in smoke.

  During their camping trip, she’d made it more than clear that she wasn’t looking for love. She didn’t believe in it. If by some miracle Jason did find a way to break through Colby’s barriers, and help her heal from the past, it was possible she’d consider sticking around for the future. One that could involve him and Emma. But there was no guarantee she’d ever fall for him. Or welcome him loving her…if he even did.

  He came to a stop in front of his father. “You do realize people don’t fall for each other at the drop of a hat, right? Not outside of Hollywood.” And especially not people like me.

  His father chuckled. “Maybe they don’t.” Then he placed a solid hand on Jason’s shoulder and said, “But son, I saw the way you looked at her.”

  Chapter Ten

  Colby glanced at her future conquest from the passenger side of his truck. The neon light from LeJeune’s bakery illuminated Jason’s abnormally rigid jaw, reminding her he’d barely said two words since they’d left his parents’ house. And they hadn’t really had a chance to talk much before then, either. Every time Colby had felt remotely brave enough to bring up kicking off their summer fling tonight, there had been an adolescent or parental ear around, ready to overhear her pitiful attempts at flirtation. Not exactly the start she’d envisioned for her sexy night of seduction.

  But now they were alone. Thoughts of what could lie ahead sent the heat inside the already toasty truck skyrocketing. I can do this. So he hadn’t brought it up since the night of the camping trip. She could take the bull by the horns, so to speak. Women did this sort of thing every day, right? The whole ‘equal opportunity, female empowerment, we are women hear us roar’ jazz. She leaned her face into the stream of cool air coming from the vent. Sadly, right now she felt less like the siren she needed to be, and closer to throwing up.

  Why was she so nervous? She even had a ringing endorsement from above. When it came time for her to leave and her cute, unreliable car had sputtered, groaned, and then died a horrible death, she’d figured it had to be a divine blessing on her plans. The unexpected vehicular demise required Jason to bring her home after all. Granted, the nuns in Sunday school had always given the impression that booty calls were frowned upon; but perhaps, in this case, heaven had made an exception for the pathetic.

  Jason drummed an erratic beat on the steering wheel, matching the thrum of her nerves. His grumpy look wasn’t helping. But as her little sister always said, sometimes you have to fake it to make it. And in this case, Colby definitely wanted to make it. So, after another block of silence, she manned up, poured on the bravado, and asked, “You okay there, Captain?”

  The brief smile he shot her was more like it. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  Thank God, because the bad mood vibe so wasn’t cutting it as an aphrodisiac.

  Then he added, “It’s just been a long day. Guess I’m more tired than I thought.” And the knotted muscles in Colby’s stomach clenched back up again.

  An exhausted seductee didn’t really scream let’s get it on, either.

  But one doesn’t become the owner of a popular, thriving restaurant in Vegas by letting a little complication get in her way. Grabbing hold of her deflating hopes for the evening, Colby scooted as close to Jason as the dang seat belt would allow and called upon every ounce of dormant vixen power she had.

  “You sure that’s all it is?” she purred, or rather, attempted to purr in his ear. No one in her right mind would actually call the strange, breathy rumble that came out of her mouth a purr. Lord, I’m bad at this. Slipping her fingers under the collar of his dress shirt, she forged ahead. “Because you seem awfully tense, and it just so happens that I know an excellent way to release tension.”

  Jason laughed under his breath. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”

  She began kneading the taut muscles of his neck and a low noise emanated from the back of his throat. He pressed into her fingers. Feeling daring, she scraped her nails across his skin and his breath hissed through his teeth. Oh yeah, Jason wanted her. A thrill ran down her spine. But before she could give herself a mental high-five or begin planning tonight’s lingerie ensemble, he mumbled, “Damn, I’d love to take you up on that offer.”

  Colby’s eager fingers stilled. That didn’t sound very promising. “Why do I hear a but attached to that statement?”

  He released a heavy breath and shot her a regretful smile. “But, I have to be at the station earlier than normal tomorrow. I have a pile of paperwork and back to back school tours.”

  The neon green numbers on the dash clicked to eleven o’clock, mocking her. There went her seduction plans. Her inner-vixen rolled her eyes and fell asleep. Could he be regretting making their arrangement? Or had it been the alcohol talking, and now he’d changed his mind?

  “Another twenty-four-hour shift?” she asked, squeezing his muscles tighter.

  “Twenty-four on, forty-eight off.”

  That explained why Emma had stayed behind at his parents’ house. Colby had mistakenly assumed Jason was on the same page as to where their night was headed, but then, that would’ve implied a parental-approved booty call, which now that she thought about it, kinda icked her out.

  “Then I guess it’s probably best if you just drop me off.” She flinched as the words left her mouth. There was no way he’d missed the ring of pouting in her voice. She stole a glance out of the side of her eye and the
beam of a passing car highlighted his amused smile, confirming as much.

  Well that’s awesome. Everyone knows there’s nothing sexier than desperation.

  Perhaps she should just embrace the spinster life now. Get right on the whole cat thing, buy a few dozen muumuus, and call it a night.

  “But,” Jason said, interrupting her depressing thoughts with that dreaded word again. “I was hoping that you’d have dinner with me Friday night.”

  Colby’s spirits perked up as if they’d received a shot of B-12. It was entirely possible the man was just throwing her a bone, but it sounded as if he did want to see her. Maybe their arrangement was still on, and her seduction plans weren’t canceled but rather momentarily delayed.

  Except…

  “I’d love to,” she replied honestly, trying and failing to conceal her mounting frustration. “But weekends are crazy at the restaurant. I know I traded shifts last weekend for Emma’s birthday, but I really shouldn’t make a habit of it. If the head chef starts skipping out, everyone will.” Pressing her thumb into a stubborn knot at the base of his neck, perhaps with a bit more force than necessary, she counter-offered with, “Sunday I get off work at five though.”

  He grimaced. “I’m on shift that day.”

  Of course he was. So much for the heavenly exception she’d thought she had. At this rate, she’d be lucky if she got laid again in this century, much less in the next few days.

  Jason shook his head and the soft hairs on the back of his neck tickled her fingers. “So this is what I’ve been missing by not dating, huh? Coordinating work schedules, synching up calendars. It’s a damn miracle anyone figures it out.”

  Colby’s head snapped up. Color her optimistic, but that sounded like he hadn’t dated anyone since Ashleigh died. But that couldn’t be right. The man was sex on a stick. He was gorgeous, smart, kind, and a freaking hero in their town. Magnolia Springs didn’t exactly have a huge dating pool to begin with, and a catch like Jason floating around would’ve been like a beacon to every single female in the Greater New Orleans area.