Up In Flames (Flirting with Fire Book 2)

by Jennifer Blackwood

  “It’s been a lonely year,” Sloane admitted.

  Everything in Reece’s body tensed. He’d been the target of this woman’s anger for a long time. And now she seemed so vulnerable. Fragile. Two words he’d never associate with Sloane. The thought that she’d been deprived of things she’d wanted—needed—for that long stirred something deep inside him.

  “It doesn’t have to be.” He looked at her, making sure she caught his meaning. It was a stupid suggestion. Sloane deserved more than just a warm body and a good time. But that was all he had to offer her.

  She tipped her head back and laughed.

  He stared at her, baffled.

  She stopped laughing as soon as she saw his face. “Oh my God. Are you serious?”

  Reece didn’t know why this statement put him off so much. He’d never heard a complaint from any of the women he’d dated.

  “Why not?”

  She raised her index finger. “First of all, you still owe me one more chore. I feel like that would muddy up the waters.” She put up another finger. “And second, we don’t even get along half the time. You hate me.”

  He reared back, shocked that she’d come to that conclusion. Reece had never hated Sloane. Not even when she had targeted him with her wrath. “I don’t hate you.”

  “Okay, fine. What I’m trying to say is that we bicker, even on the best of days. Adding that to the mix would be a disaster.”

  “You’re probably right. Wouldn’t want you getting attached. That might get awkward.” He was goading her. He just couldn’t seem to stop himself around Sloane.

  She leaned into him, her hair brushing against his shoulder. She smelled of roses, mint, and marinara sauce.

  Her lips coasted along his ear as she whispered, “I think it’d be the other way around.”

  His mind conjured up a hundred different fantasies involving her mouth. The way her tongue would feel flicking across the tip of his cock. Sloane’s mouth had always been his favorite part of her. Besides her ass. She had a spectacular ass. One that his hands ached to grab. To knead.

  The urge to grab her and pull her onto his lap, to devour that wicked mouth of hers again, washed over him. He’d bury himself in her, make her scream his name.

  His hands slid to her sides, and she tensed, pulling away.

  “Sorry. Did I do something wrong?” From the way her brows scrunched together, it looked like he’d hurt her. He’d been way off when reading the situation.

  For the first time that evening, Sloane didn’t look sure of herself. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “You’re probably right.” Even though he didn’t think it was a bad idea at all. In fact, the only thing he wanted to do was touch her. He shifted farther away on the couch and cupped his hands to his thighs, pushing past all the parts of Sloane’s body he’d like to explore with his mouth.

  She looked unsure as her eyes shifted to his. “I’d like you to stay, though.”

  He nodded. “I’d like that too.”

  The relief in her face was palpable. Which made him realize he’d been way off base about where this was going. When Sloane had flashed her dating prospect in his face, he’d been under the impression that she was trying to make him jealous. Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe she was actually interested in the dude.

  Wait. Had Reece just been put in the dreaded friend zone? That didn’t sit well with him.

  This was a first. He had a lot of experience with women, but not when it came to friendship.

  “TV?” she asked.

  Reece glanced over at her, and she was so beautiful it hurt. Even with her hair pulled into a messy blue bun on top of her head and her HECK YES, I’M A UNICORN socks.

  He swallowed hard and focused on the TV, which was currently blank because she hadn’t turned it on yet. “What are we watching?”

  “I’ve been bingeing on Supernatural lately.”

  He shook his head. “Never seen it.” Andie was obsessed with one of the guys on the show, though. Even went to a Comic-Con in town and paid a small fortune to have her photo taken with him. A waste of money if he ever heard one.

  “I know we weren’t really friends before, but now your chances are definitely blown. It’s only the best show ever.”

  “You sound just like my sister. And you have seen The Walking Dead, right? Because that’s the best show,” Reece said. He eased his back against the couch, and Peaches hopped up between them, settling on the middle cushion.

  “Child’s play. Come to the dark side.” She motioned to the TV.

  “Fine. Start it up. Let’s see what all the hype is about.”

  He leaned back into her couch and glanced around her apartment. He’d been in here a couple of times since the auction, but he hadn’t gotten a good look those other times. Mostly because he wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. Now he noticed the mound of blankets on a tufted blue chair, a vase of sunflowers sitting in the window above the kitchen sink. The wood floors were covered in an eclectic mix of rugs that, even though they were crazy patterns, seemed to go together.

  Everything about Sloane was chaotic. Nothing like the simple home he’d built himself. His home seemed so . . . vacant compared to this.

  “Are you even watching?”

  He turned his attention back to the screen. “Yes. Guy has charmed life. Bangin’ girlfriend. And now there is some dude sneaking into their house.” He’d zoned out for the past ten minutes but got the gist.

  “Not just any guy. Dean Freaking Winchester.” She let out a small sigh.

  He glanced at the rugged-looking dude in the tan work jacket on the screen. Is that the type Sloane was into? “The guy’s named after a gun?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I shouldn’t even watch this with you. You’re going to ruin it for me.”

  She went to grab for the remote, and he stopped her, his fingers wrapping over her bright purple nails. “I’ll give it a fair chance.”

  Sloane sat about a foot away from him. He’d watched movies with her before when they were younger. Being here brought back memories of high school. Something so inconsequential as sitting next to a girl now felt . . . important again. He was noticing things. The way her hair teased at the neckline of her shirt every time she moved. The soft curve of her jaw. Gooseflesh pebbled over her arms as she rubbed at them.

  “Cold?”

  She nodded. “A bit.”

  He got up from the couch and grabbed one of the blankets from the pile on the chair.

  He unfolded it and saw the pattern and laughed. It read BEST RESCUE MOM EVER, with pictures of dozens of dogs. Some with Sloane hugging them, some where she was crouched next to them.

  He laughed. “Awesome blanket.”

  Her fingers stroked over one of the images of a golden retriever, and she smiled. “Madison made it for me last Christmas.”

  He could see how much she loved fostering dogs, just from the way she traced her fingers over the pictures on the blanket, a sad smile on her lips. It wasn’t right that her apartment had changed their pet policy. She seemed to enjoy them, as evidenced by Peaches curled up next to her on the couch, soundly asleep. Maybe he’d been a prick for not letting the dog up on his own couch. He still drew the line at his bed.

  “Nice of her.”

  She nodded.

  “One of my favorite gifts. The dogs tend to like it too.”

  “How come you never adopted a dog of your own? Why foster them?”

  She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, before the rule in my apartment building changed, fostering was just something I liked doing. I figure then at least it’s not long term. But I think I’d like to change that.”

  “Yeah? That mean you’re going to move out of here?”

  She looked thoughtful for a moment. “Someday.”

  “Maybe that Aaron guy will have a house you can keep your gaggle of foster dogs at.” He didn’t know why he’d said that. But it bothered him that Sloane was going out
with him on Friday.

  “Maybe.”

  But even her answer sounded half-hearted. Sloane deserved to be happy. She was one hell of a woman. And even though Reece knew he wasn’t the one who could give that to her, it didn’t stop the kick to his gut.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Reece swiped his hand across his sweaty brow and then pushed the “Up” arrow on the treadmill. His feet pounded heavily on the machine, and his legs felt like they would give out at any moment.

  “Going for an Olympic record?” Hollywood asked, walking in front of the treadmill. He leaned an elbow on Reece’s towel, looking far too comfortable. “Aren’t you supposed to be taking it easy?” It’d been a week since the accident, and he’d been cleared for work. Same with Hollywood, who was lucky to have only a few bruised ribs and nothing broken from when he’d been hit by the man’s bat.

  “Doc said I’m allowed to push myself.” More like push out thoughts of Sloane. The way she felt around his fingers. Her delicious lips. He needed to focus on his job because the last thing he needed was to get sloppy. Especially over a woman where all the signs were pointing to “not interested.”

  “Hold on. Let me get out my phone so I can record you when you wipe out.”

  Reece lifted a middle finger in response. Well, halfway. His body was tired enough that it could, in fact, give out at any moment. But that was the point. He wanted to be tired enough so that he wouldn’t think about his problems.

  Reece’s feet stumbled, but he caught himself before he could crash and burn. Hollywood held the “Down” button until the treadmill slowed to a walk. “I think you’ve had enough, man. We’re supposed to have to do lifesaving measures on civilians, not our own men.”

  He was right. It wouldn’t do him any good to pass out on the job. With a couple of hours left on his shift, anything could happen. All he wanted to do was make it one shift without being called into the chief’s office. Reece grabbed his towel off the side of the treadmill and wiped the sweat off his face.

  Jake came into the workout room. “Everything okay?”

  “He’s trying to kill himself via sprinting,” Hollywood said.

  He was one to talk. The guy always pushed himself to the limit when it came to working out. Hollywood had even joined a CrossFit gym in town and did competitions during his off time.

  “That’s a new one.”

  Reece flipped Jake off and slowed down the treadmill to a full stop, wiping the sweat with the bottom of his shirt. “Have to keep in shape. Unlike you softies.”

  Jake guffawed while Hollywood rolled his eyes. Just like Reece, they both worked hard to maintain their shape. Had to with their job. But that was how Reece worked best—deflecting.

  “Chief wants to see you,” Jake said.

  Reece threw his towel into his bag with more force than necessary and took a deep breath. His heart rate had returned to normal only to spike again at the mention of the chief.

  “Did he look happy?”

  Jake let out a dry laugh. “Does Chief ever look happy?”

  “Good point.” Chief’s elation and wrath took the same shape on his face. Just a flat, thin line on his lips. Reece had never seen a spark in his eyes, but Chief was a legend in Portland, known for his heroics in the big paper factory fire twenty years ago. It was said that he single-handedly saved his team and fifteen civilians when the building collapsed. But nowadays, he was a desk jockey, something Reece never wanted to become.

  Before he had a chance to shower and meet with Richards, the tones went off. Within a minute, Reece and his men were buckled into their seats in the engine, and he tore out of the engine bay.

  Reece turned on his headset and took a right out of the station and made his way to the heart of downtown, passing storefronts peppered with potted plants, flags, and customers.

  “Commercial residence fire. Looks like it’s the bar on Madison.”

  “The one with the taco Tuesdays?” Reece asked, taking a right down Eleventh.

  Jake nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Damn. They have good tacos,” Hollywood said.

  They were the first engine on the scene when Reece pulled up three minutes later. Flames flicked out of a broken window facing the street. The thunder of the burn was a deep rumble that vibrated in his chest. After that shift from hell, he was ready to get back in and do what he was meant to do. He glanced at the crowd forming across the block, some holding up their phones, probably broadcasting live on social media.

  The police hadn’t arrived yet, and neither had Portland West.

  Reece hopped down from the engine and waited for his men to come around to his side.

  “Hollywood, go hook us up. I’ll go check out the inside and make sure no one is in there.” He nodded to Jake, who was grabbing his mask from the engine. Reece adjusted his fire hood and slid his own mask on, making sure everything was secured before he went into the building.

  His jagged breathing and the hiss and crackle of flames in the building echoed in his helmet as he entered side by side with Jake. Thick smoke blanketed the air, making for poor visibility, but Reece and Jake pushed farther inside, first clearing the table area and working their way to the bar.

  No two fires were ever the same. Sure, they all burned, but some were hotter, some faster. Reece enjoyed the challenge of putting them out. Had a deep respect for them.

  No bodies were found in either area, and Hollywood had made his way into the structure, hosing down the flames licking up the walls. More firefighters joined them, and Reece and Jake continued their search for anyone who might be trapped. Sweat slicked the back of his neck and the base of his spine as the room temperature seemed to spike. It was burning hot, much hotter than if it was just an electrical fire. He wasn’t an arson investigator, but he’d seen enough fires to know this one had used an accelerant. They moved to the kitchen area, and Reece spotted a woman lying unconscious on the checkered tile. Blood trickled from a wound in her head, but there was no sign of fire in this part of the bar, just the smoke floating in from the front.

  A sense of déjà vu hit him, and his head swiveled around to survey the area, looking for a man with a bat.

  The type of fire. The way the front was the most severely damaged, even though the kitchen was in the back, screamed of more than just coincidence.

  His attention snapped back to the woman. He couldn’t check for a pulse without taking his gloves off, but he slung her over his shoulder and left with Jake as soon as more firefighters entered.

  He shouldered his way to the front of the building, his breath hissing in his ears, the woman bumping gently against him with each move he made.

  He didn’t know if the woman from the last fire had made it. And he’d do everything in his power not to lose this one.

  Early-evening light streamed through the haze as Reece exited the building. Sweat poured down his face and chest, and he could feel the temperature drop drastically as soon as he moved farther away from the taco joint.

  Portland West had an ambulance ready, stretcher sitting at the curb, when Reece passed more firefighters working the perimeter and pouring into the building. He set the woman down on the gurney and tore off his mask while two EMTs fed her oxygen and measured her vitals.

  Detective Ross was already on the scene, along with the arson investigator, Emeline Betts. That was fast, even for someone as diligent as Ross.

  “You the ones who got the woman out of the fire?” Ross asked.

  Reece nodded.

  “Did you see anyone leaving the building?”

  Jake walked up beside Reece, holding his helmet in his hand.

  Reece shook his head and turned to Jake. “Did you see anyone?”

  “No,” said Jake.

  Reece turned to Betts, who wore blue coveralls and a jacket emblazoned with ARSON INSPECTOR on the back. Her curls were pulled back and hung loosely over her shoulders.

  “Thinking these two fires are connected?” he asked.

  “That�
��s what I’m here to find out. Just last week a church burned down three blocks from here.” She frowned, jotting something into her notebook. “We heard this on the scanner and figured it was worth a shot to check out.”

  The residential fire he’d been at last shift had been ten blocks from here.

  Reece nodded and swiped at the sweat beading on his brow, the December air doing nothing to cool his body. “Just like the one we were at last week, this one might have used an accelerator. It’s burning hot in the front.”

  Betts nodded, like she expected that answer. “If I have any more questions, I’ll head on over to your side of the station.”

  “No problem. Happy to help in any way possible.”

  Hollywood and Station 10 finished hosing down the building, most of the structure still intact. The owner was lucky—if they’d gotten there any later, it’d be gone, along with the woman.

  He peered over at the ambulance and saw that the woman was now conscious. He walked over to where she lay on the gurney, an oxygen mask over her nose. Blood streaked her blonde hair, and her eyes were blinking fast.

  Lacey, an EMT he’d worked with over the years, greeted him. “Nice work getting her out of there.”

  Reece shrugged, and the cold sweat that had collected on his shoulder blades drizzled down his back. He was ready to get back to the station and change. “She going to be okay?”

  “The hospital will need to do a few tests, but she’s responsive, which is a good sign. Knows her name—Sandy—and the date.”

  The woman tore off the oxygen mask and grabbed Reece’s hand. Her skin was sooty, and dirt smeared onto his skin. He smiled down at her, grasping her hand in his. “How are you feeling?”

  “Are you the man who saved me?”

  He nodded.

  “Thank you.” Tears welled in her eyes and streaked down her cheeks, creating a path of pale skin between the ash caked on her face.

  “Of course.” This was what he lived for. To help other people. It made those hard days worth it to know this woman had a second chance at life.

  “Do you . . . do you know who did this to me?”

  He wished he did. Whoever this was needed to be put away before they burned down half his city. “I think the investigators were hoping you could help them out with that.”