Smoke (Bearpaw Ridge Firefighters Book 7)

by Ophelia Sexton

  “He said what?” Mary interrupted indignantly. “What a jerk!”

  * * *

  As Tyler reeled from Mary’s unexpected reaction—wait, she’s on my side?—she reached across the small table and put her hand over his.

  Her touch felt like a brand against his skin…and his soul. He captured her hand, and she didn’t pull away.

  “I hope no one believed him,” Mary continued.

  With an effort, Tyler kept his tone light. “Well, my cousin Mark said something about suing for slander.”

  “Good,” Mary said, looking fierce. “I’m sorry that Zack’s making trouble. He’s got a reputation for badmouthing people he doesn’t like, and unfortunately—”

  She stopped speaking, and her prettily flushed cheeks grew a shade or two darker.

  “And unfortunately, there are folks in this town who remember the stupid kid I used to be, so they believe him?”

  Mary sighed. “Yeah.”

  “I swear to you that I didn’t set any of those fires,” Tyler said.

  “I already knew that,” she said.

  With a jolt, Tyler felt her fingers wrap around his, squeezing. His heart hammered in his chest, and he wanted to kiss her again so badly that he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

  “Thank you. That means a lot to me.” He raised her hand to his lips and placed a slow, gentle kiss on her knuckles, breathing in her scent.

  He felt her pulse jump under his fingers.

  Kiss her! Kiss her now, his bear demanded. Claim her.

  Claim her? What the hell, bear?

  With an effort, Tyler released her hand and rose from his chair. He didn’t want to risk moving too fast. He couldn’t afford to spook her. “I’ll, uh, get the ravioli started. I hope you like red sauce—I found lots of tomato and basil plants in the garden.”

  He knew he was babbling but he couldn’t stop himself.

  Mary’s eyes widened. “You made the pasta sauce from scratch?” she asked incredulously. “And the ravioli?”

  “Yeah,” he said, enjoying her admiration. “Everything but the sausage. I bought that at the Fatted Calf butcher shop.”

  “Wow,” she breathed. “I always just open a jar of spaghetti sauce and heat it up. And I, uh, used to get ravioli at The Bear’s Lair before they closed down.”

  “To be honest,” Tyler confessed. “Part of this is rage-cooking to work off steam after the whole Zack thing.”

  Mary grinned slyly. “I get homemade Italian food when you’re rage-cooking? Sounds like you need to get mad more often.”

  “Don’t make me angry. You wouldn’t like me when I get angry,” Tyler said, quoting The Incredible Hulk as deadpan as he could manage.

  The warming sound of Mary’s laughter followed him to the kitchen, where he proceeded to slide the ravioli into the pot of boiling water on his stovetop.

  He’d hadn’t been lying when he told Mary that he found it calming to prepare food. He’d learned the art of home-style Italian cooking from his Ordinary grandma, Betty Schaeffer, who had been born Betty Martelli.

  When he returned to the table ten minutes later with two bowls of perfectly cooked ravioli topped with pasta sauce, Mary was on her cell with her insurance agent.

  She ended the call as he put the bowls down on the table and prepared to grate Parmesan over them.

  “Good news,” Mary told him as she placed her phone on the table, facedown. “Jennifer says that my insurance company will be paying for my rent here, a rental car, and a shopping trip to replace my stuff. I’ll have to wait for the actual settlement until an adjustor can come out to look at my house, but she thinks I’ll be able to either buy or rebuild.”

  “You should rebuild,” Tyler said instantly. “You loved your house, and the lot is in the perfect location for you.” Impelled by his bear, he looked her straight in the eye. He hadn’t planned to say this yet, but the moment felt right. “And I’ll rebuild it for you, Mary.”

  Her look of astonished pleasure warmed him. “Really?”

  He nodded. “Really. And it will be awesome. Your dream house.”

  “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much your offer means to me. It took me a long time to save up enough money for the down payment on the cottage.” She sighed, and her expression collapsed. “I still can’t believe it’s gone.”

  “I’ll build you something better,” he said, eager to dispel the sadness he saw in her face. “Do you want to stay with the same style of house or go for something different?”

  “Maybe something a little different,” she said without hesitating. “But I don’t want anything too big or modern. Cozy vintage is more my style. I’d like a guest bedroom and maybe an attached garage. Oh, and two bathrooms this time. My old place only had one bathroom.”

  Tyler nodded. He could see it now…the two of them enjoying a meal like this at home in her new dining room…

  Yeah, I like that idea a lot.

  “After dinner, I can show you a couple of websites that sell house plans for all kinds of houses, including vintage styles like this house. I have a couple of plans in mind that you might like.”

  Mary blinked. “So you’re serious about your offer?”

  “I wouldn’t have said anything if I wasn’t,” he replied, feeling defensive. He never made promises he didn’t intend to keep.

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” she countered with an apologetic gesture. “It just—it’s a really big project to take on, and I know you’re already working on rebuilding your parents’ place…”

  “That project’s nearly done. All the structural work is complete, and the new roof is on. Now I’m just hanging drywall and waiting on Mom to settle on the finishes for her new bathroom and kitchen.” He remembered today’s lunch meeting and shook his head in frustration. “Every time I’m ready to order the countertops and tile, she changes her mind on me. And then complains that everything’s taking so long.”

  Mary laughed sympathetically. “I’ll bet you a cinnamon roll from Annabeth’s café that your Mom is drawing things out because she thinks you’re going to leave town as soon as you’re finished with the house.”

  Tyler blinked. It hadn’t occurred to him that Mom might actually want him to stick around. All he’d heard from her complaints was his failure to measure up to his father.

  “She’s right. I have to go back to Portland eventually,” he said, though he knew that he’d happily find a way to stay in Bearpaw Ridge for the rest of the summer and even into autumn if Mary let him build her new house.

  He’d just keep managing Schaeffer Construction remotely.

  “So tell me about Portland,” Mary said, taking another sip of wine. “You mentioned that was where you moved right after high school. Was it hard to live in city that’s mostly Ordinaries?”

  He shook his head. “I loved it. I still do.” Then he thought about it. “It might have been a tough adjustment if I’d been younger and didn’t have a driver’s license. But there are a bunch of parks and wilderness refuges within an easy drive of the city, so if my bear needs a break from city life, I just go away for the weekend. Grandma Betty always worries about me hiking or camping alone.” He smiled wryly. “She’s scared that a bear might try to eat me.”

  This won him a full-throated laugh from Mary. Damn, she was sexy when she did that—her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling, and everything just…glowing with happiness.

  He added, “As if some puny-ass black bear’s going to take on a grizzly…except she didn’t know about the whole shifter thing. But still, it was kind of sweet to have someone worrying about me.”

  * * *

  “Was your grandmother the one who taught you to cook like this?” Mary forked up one of the large ravioli and paused to chew it. The flavors exploded in her mouth. “Oh my God, these ravioli are so much better than the restaurant kind.”

  “That’s because a lot of restaurants use frozen ravioli from a restaurant supply place,” Tyler informed her in a disapproving tone
. “And yeah, Grandma Betty taught me how to cook. She said it would help me woo a nice girl.”

  “And did it work? Is there a nice girl waiting for you back in Oregon?” Mary kept her tone light, even though her stomach was clenching in dread of his answer.

  “Nope.” Tyler’s expression was serious. “But I like cooking for you.”

  She saw his lips clamp together, as if he’d said too much. An intriguing flush rose from his beard to darken his tanned cheeks.

  “Who else have you cooked for?” she teased, feeling strangely warmed by his answer.

  “Mostly friends,” he said. “I host Thanksgiving dinner for my grandparents, construction crew, and anyone I know who doesn’t have a place to go for the holidays. I brine a turkey, sometimes two, and make all the fixings. Everyone brings an appetizer, and we have a competition with a case of beer as the prize. After dinner, we laze around and watch football on my big-ass TV until we’re ready to tackle Grandma Betty’s desserts. Last year, a couple of the guys brought drones, and we raced them through the neighborhood…until one of them crashed into the top of a tree and got stuck there.”

  “So who got volunteered to climb a tree and retrieve it?” Because Mary had grown up with two brothers and knew how things worked.

  “Not me,” Tyler said firmly. “And I managed to talk Grandpa Rob out of doing it. But I did offer to loan the gang my tallest ladder. It turned out to be a group effort. They got it down eventually, and no one went to the ER.”

  “Sounds like a happy ending to me,” she commented.

  And as they continued to talk while they ate, Mary realized that she felt like she was having dinner with an old friend. A very sexy friend, but also one whom she felt comfortable with.

  Many of Tyler’s anecdotes poked fun at himself for being, as he called it, a “dumbass,” but his story about hosting Thanksgiving dinner had confirmed what Mary had already guessed: that he was an all-around generous and kind guy wrapped in tattoos and a bad-boy reputation.

  When they’d each had seconds of the ravioli, followed by mint chocolate chip ice cream for dessert, Mary rose from her chair and began gathering up the used dishes and silverware.

  Tyler stood too, and she shook her head.

  “I grew up with the rule that if you cook, you don’t do the dishes,” she said firmly, adding when she saw him open his mouth to protest, “I insist.”

  “But—” Tyler looked adorably confused.

  “Plus, you have a dishwasher,” Mary continued ruthlessly. “My old place didn’t have one, so I’m going to take advantage of the opportunity.”

  It still didn’t seem quite real to her that her home and almost everything she had owned was gone forever. She pushed down her surge of grief.

  “Your new kitchen will definitely have a dishwasher,” Tyler promised as he followed her into the kitchen. “If you won’t let me wash, will you at least let me dry and put away?”

  “Maybe,” she teased as she opened the sleek, stainless steel door of his high-end German dishwasher and began to load it.

  “Victory!” He grabbed one of the dishtowels from the row of hooks and brandished it like a battle flag.

  When she had finished loading the dishwasher, she filled the sink with hot soapy water and began to wash the cutting boards, knives, pots, and mixing bowls by hand.

  Tyler dried and put each item away. Mary was intensely aware of his proximity and every gentle bump and brush against him. She could smell the faint musk of arousal on him and knew that the seemingly accidental contacts were affecting him too.

  “Do you eat like this every night?” Mary asked as she scrubbed out the pot he had used to simmer the pasta sauce.

  She knew she had to distract herself in some way from her intense desire to kiss him again.

  “Only if I have someone to cook for,” he answered in a flirtatious tone and bumped her hip with his own as he reached for the pot to dry it.

  He wasn’t making it easy to practice self-control.

  “Well, now you have me,” she blurted.

  Now look who’s the dumbass?

  “I sure hope I do.” He moved in close, and Mary held her breath, hoping that he was about to kiss her.

  Then her phone vibrated loudly against the dining table, and Tyler froze.

  Mary couldn’t suppress a sigh, knowing that the incoming text was probably from yet another member of her pack.

  She usually loved how tight-knit her wolf shifter family and pack were—everyone supported each other through good times and bad. But right now, that closeness felt suffocating and intrusive rather than welcome.

  Tyler gave the dining table a sideways look as if he knew exactly why her phone was blowing up with texts.

  He lowered his dishtowel and leaned against the kitchen island, putting some space between them.

  Mary discovered that her wolf didn’t like that and wondered, yet again, what the hell was going on between her and Tyler.

  “Look,” he said, crossing his arms in a way that made his biceps bulge in the sexiest way. “I know I was a dumbass this afternoon. If living here is going to make things awkward for you, I won’t hold you to our lease.”

  “We have a lease?” Mary inquired. She kept her tone deliberately teasing. “You know, you keep asking me if I want to move out. Did you change your mind about wanting a roommate?”

  “No!” Tyler said, very definitely.

  “Okay, then. I’ll stick with the terms of our lease. How much notice do I have to give before I move out?”

  “Six months,” Tyler replied instantly, his expression lightening with what she could only read as relief.

  He wants me to stay. Good.

  “One month’s notice is the usual thing,” she said with a laugh. “With any luck, my house will be rebuilt in six months.”

  “Exactly,” he agreed. “I’m renting you a room until your new home is ready, and then I’m kicking you out.”

  She laughed.

  It would be easier to give in to her pack’s urging and find somewhere else to live. But she felt comfortable and safe here, and she didn’t want to leave.

  Neither did her wolf. In fact, the shameless beast was urging her to step closer to Tyler, so that she could bathe in his scent.

  “I’m just worried that if everyone really thinks that I’m some kind of arsonist—” he began.

  “Oh, hell no,” Mary heard herself say. “I know you’re not the one setting these fires. I’m a grown woman, and I’ll be damned if I let my pack boss me around like I’m a little wolf-cub.”

  “Good,” Tyler breathed, and moved in.

  Chapter 9 – Burning Hot

  Mary found herself pinned against the edge of the countertop as he leaned in for a kiss.

  Relishing the feeling of his muscled torso pressing against her, she met him halfway, going up on tiptoes and winding her arms around his neck.

  His mouth was warm and hungry. It devoured her, and each soft scrape of his beard against her lips stirred up a hot jolt of desire between her thighs.

  She eagerly returned his kiss, welcoming his exploring tongue in her mouth and the slow slide of his big hands up and down her back from the dip of her waist to the nape of her neck.

  Mary lost track of time, aware only of his touch and the heat gradually consuming her. She felt the hard bulge of his erection pressing against her belly and thrust her hips against him, regretting the layers of clothing that separated them.

  When Tyler finally ended the kiss with soft, lingering nibbles, she was dizzy and throbbing with need. She clung to him, her fingers digging into the hard muscle of his shoulders through his T-shirt.

  “So how would you feel about becoming my girlfriend?” he asked in a voice rough with desire.

  Yes! I’d love it! Mary inhaled shakily, feeling drunk with desire.

  But she didn’t want to give in that easily. “You mean, before we’ve even gone out on a date?”

  * * *

  Tyler could have kicke
d himself for blurting out that question.

  So smooth. Thanks a fucking lot, Mr. Bear, he told his inner beast.

  She wants us. His bear exuded smug contentment at having kissed the hell out of Mary.

  Tyler couldn’t blame him. He’d been thinking about doing that all day, and damned if this second kiss hadn’t been even better than the one they’d shared over breakfast.

  Mary was looking up at him quizzically, her cheeks flushed and her scent rich with sexual arousal.

  Well, okay…maybe he hadn’t screwed this up, after all. She hadn’t said yes, but her response hadn’t sounded like a rejection, either.

  Like maybe…just maybe…she’s open to some convincing.

  Tyler forced himself to pull his hands away from her sweet body and step away from her and noted that she seemed reluctant to let go of his shoulders.

  He had to cross his arms to keep from gathering her in where she belonged, pressed against him.

  He raised his brows at her. “I cooked you dinner,” he reminded her. “From scratch.”

  God, she had a beautiful smile, especially when she was in a mischievous mood.

  “Okay, I’ll grant you that. You’re a great cook, by the way.” She paused and tilted her head. “You cook for girlfriends, right? It’s not just a date thing?”

  “I’d cook for you all the time.” Tyler let hope surge through him. He added, “Plus, there are other benefits.”

  “Oh yeah? What kind of benefits?” She mirrored his stance and crossed her arms over her chest. It did nice things to her cleavage.

  He’d never seen her in a dress before, and she looked fucking delicious in this low-cut blue number. It was too much to resist.

  “These kinds of benefits.” He took her shoulders, bent, and kissed his way urgently down her throat.

  Mary’s pulse leaped against his lips, and he could hear her heart hammering as he let his lips travel lower, across her collarbones and down to the gently swelling top of her breasts.