Up In Flames (Flirting with Fire Book 2)

by Jennifer Blackwood

“I’m willing to try.” After these past couple of weeks, he realized he was willing to try in a lot of aspects of his life. He pressed her against the shelving unit and swept her into a kiss, lingering, savoring the taste of her lips. By now, he’d kissed her several times. Each one was better than the last. Sloane’s lips were by far the best thing he’d ever tasted.

  He pulled away slowly and watched as her eyes fluttered open.

  “Just because you kiss me like that does not get you off the hook. C’mon. Goose. Down,” she said, like this was enough to sway anyone.

  He caved. She could upsell him on a lemon of a used car right now, and he wouldn’t be able to resist. “Fine.”

  Her lips pulled into a smile, and his chest swelled. He’d do anything to keep this feeling.

  Two hours later and they ended up with three large bags and were on their way back to his apartment.

  Sloane stared at the blank palette she had to work with, a.k.a. Reece’s apartment. While he prepared dinner, she’d taken it upon herself to start decorating. The apartment in itself had great bones. High ceilings, turn-of-the-century charm in glass doorknobs, and a breakfast nook. It was a building she’d been eyeing when she’d first started her apartment search in the city. Alas, in this part of town, she’d have better luck winning the Hunger Games than finding another apartment to rent.

  She grabbed the throw pillows and the small area rug from the shopping bag and positioned the pillows on the couch and the rug on the floor.

  Next, she added a few decorative frames to the entertainment system and worked her way to the kitchen. There might have even been a few rose-colored embellishments—she’d snuck those into the cart when Reece wasn’t looking. An hour later, Sloane admired her work. Creamy drapes that fell just above the baseboards. A new curved glass lamp sitting on a distressed wood table. Tufted seat cushions lining the previously bare dining room chairs. Luscious rugs covering hardwood floors. Everything came together in an elegant, understated grown-ass-man-lives-here kind of way. One who still lived on Frank’s hot sauce. For someone who knew how to work a grocery store, he didn’t keep anything stocked in his fridge, except for the groceries they’d just picked up on their way back to his apartment.

  Just as she was putting the finishing touches on the bedroom with the goose-feather comforter, new drapes, and lamp on his bedside table, Reece called out that dinner was ready.

  She made her way to the kitchen and found Peaches scooped up in Reece’s big arms. He leaned down and gave the dog a kiss, then set her on the floor. “Go ahead and get comfy, girl. I’ll get your dinner in a bit.”

  He didn’t notice Sloane there. That much was obvious since he was talking to Peaches in a cutesy voice saved for small animals. Sloane cleared her throat, and his eyes darted to hers. He stiffened and resumed stirring the minestrone soup, the savory smell making Sloane’s mouth water.

  “Smells amazing. But before we start, I want to show you what your awesome apartment looks like now.”

  She led him out of the kitchen and opened her arms Vanna White–style. “Tada. Do you want a tour of your newly updated apartment?”

  His face pinched as his gaze bounced around the room. The two little lines between his forehead deepened when he took in the pillows and the framed abstract art on the wall.

  “Wow. It’s something, Sloane.”

  Her stomach dropped. “You don’t like it?” This was her thing. Well, besides helping keep people alive. Madison worked her magic with photography, Erin worked her magic with being the Mary Poppins of teachers, and Sloane pulled a room together like she was on HGTV. And now Reece looked like he was going to lose his dinner over the new rug she’d bought.

  “It’s not that. I’m just not used to seeing this place look like . . .”

  “A place.” Which was what she’d been going for.

  “Exactly.” His voice was quiet. Maybe she’d misread the situation. Was there a reason he wanted to live in complete minimalism?

  An ache built in her chest. It shouldn’t matter what Reece thought. His opinion shouldn’t matter. And yet, the look on his face sent an unexpected spear of sadness through her.

  “Sloane, I didn’t mean to make you upset. I like it. I really do. Look, Peaches is already at home.”

  The dog was snuggled inside a blanket propped on the couch. At least someone would enjoy it.

  He paced the length of the hallway and then paused. “There’s actually something I wanted to ask you. Something that’s been on my mind all day.”

  She swallowed down her pride and forced herself to smile. Because even if he couldn’t appreciate her work, it was still a job well done, and now he didn’t have blank walls. “What?”

  “I want to take you out. On a real date.”

  “That was a statement, not a question.”

  He leaned down, his lips brushing against the fleshy part of her ear. “I know how much you like to be bossed around.”

  She shivered, folded her arms, and didn’t bother to argue. Because, in fact, she had liked it when Reece took charge.

  “How about I pick you up at eight on Thursday?”

  “Is this about last night? Because you shouldn’t feel obligated just because you did . . .” She trailed off. Why was she arguing against a date? Was she an idiot?

  He strode over to her, and she moved until her back hit the wall. Being this close to him, the heat of his chest against her aching breasts, made her whole body hyperaware to each touch. The pad of his thumb climbing up her side. The way his thick thigh pushed at the space between her thighs. A dull throb pulsed there, practically begging for a redo of the other night. His lips were on hers, his tongue slipping into her mouth. The taste of mint tangled with a hint of soup. Her fingers found their way to his broad chest, raking over the hard muscles, and Sloane realized she’d require a lot more time to explore. Reece had a lot of real estate, and she needed to make a thorough property evaluation.

  He pulled back, and she was left leaning against the wall, completely out of breath.

  “What I did has nothing to do with why I want to take you out. Although I’m definitely not against doing it again. I like you, Sloane. And even though you drive me up the wall seventy percent of the time and decorate my apartment with throw pillows and goose-feather comforters and all that pink crap, which I’m pretty sure I told you to put back at the store, I realize there’s no one I’d rather go out with.”

  A grin split across her face. “You drive me crazy too.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Four days later, and Reece was sweating his Thursday-night plans. His shift had just started, and they’d just finished up their morning meeting and quick brushup on intubation procedures. It was a good thing Reece knew how to intubate a person quickly and efficiently because he’d completely zoned out on what Hollywood had said in the meeting. Instead, he was focused on where to take Sloane for their date.

  In the fifteen years Reece had been legally considered an adult, he’d never once planned a date. First, because going out to a fancy restaurant to try to get someone into bed seemed financially reckless. He usually stuck to cooking dinner at home. Add in a couple beers, and then they’d be good to go. Sometimes he’d go to happy hour with them. Yes, now he realized how much of an asshole this made him. The women he’d dated—if you could even classify it as that—had deserved much better.

  But now he wanted to take Sloane on an honest-to-goodness real date, and he was way out of his depth.

  It’d been half a week, and he still couldn’t figure out where to take her. Which was how he found himself in the engine bay, checking supplies and asking someone as equally unqualified.

  “You do realize that my idea of a date is starting out on the dining room table before we make our way to the bedroom? Don’t even get that far some of the time,” Hollywood chuckled. “Shit, man. What did Sloane do to you?”

  It wasn’t what she did. It was what she made him feel. When he’d dated in high school, he used
to get the sweatiest palms right before he asked a girl out. Just the thought of Sloane, the thought of her smile, the delicate curve of her neck as she threw her head back to laugh, was enough to send him over the edge.

  “I knew I shouldn’t have asked you.” He shoved the airway bag back in the engine and reached for the blood kit.

  Hollywood marked something on the clipboard. “No, no. I just never thought I’d hear this from you.”

  Reece focused on his checklist, thinking about the best way to erase the last few minutes. “Yeah, laugh it up, asshole.”

  “I am going to enjoy every second of this. Coming to the youngest one for dating advice. Why not ask Jake? He’s the one that’s living like a Brady Bunch movie.”

  “Because he’ll make a big deal about this. Which is exactly what I didn’t want. And exactly what you’re doing.”

  “Sorry, man. It’s just a shock to the system is all.”

  Was Reece that far into bachelorhood that no one thought he’d ever go on a date?

  “This conversation is ending now.”

  “Sorry. Okay, I’ll be serious. What does Sloane like? Usually you cater the date to what you think they’d be into.”

  “She likes those Pusheen things,” Reece said, thinking back to all those pillows on her couch.

  Hollywood screwed his face. “What the hell is a Pusheen?”

  Reece continued looking through the med supplies, making a note that they’d need to stock up soon on more insulin. He waved his hand flippantly. “It’s this cat cartoon thing. Apparently people collect it.”

  “You said she likes to decorate stuff, right?”

  “Yeah, turned my apartment into a Pottery Barn ad.” It had been jarring at first, but the more he was in his apartment, the more he liked it. Peaches had staked claim on the new blankets Sloane had picked out.

  Hollywood shrugged and continued to stare at his list. “Then appeal to that.”

  Reece nodded. Okay. He could work with that. Portland had a lot of options when it came to the arts.

  “I think I’ve got it.” He clapped Hollywood on the back. “Thanks.”

  Now he just had to make a few calls.

  Before they finished their morning checks, Detective Ross and Investigator Betts appeared in the engine bay.

  They moved toward the doors and entered the firehouse.

  “Everything going okay with you guys?”

  “Just investigating a new fire yesterday. Another church. Another body. Didn’t get to her in time.” Ross frowned.

  “Have any leads on who’s doing this?” Reece asked.

  Betts shook her head. “This guy’s careful. Keep your eyes peeled for any calls like this today. His time between arsons is shrinking.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Once they disappeared through the doors, Hollywood turned to Reece and said, “Who was that?”

  “New arson investigator.” Reece realized that Hollywood had either been injured or not on the scene when Reece had spoken with her the two previous times.

  Hollywood glanced at the door and gripped the side of the engine. “Damn,” he mumbled. And Reece didn’t think he’d ever seen Hollywood look at a woman with such intensity.

  He was about to heckle his friend when the tones rang.

  When Reece knocked on Sloane’s door, promptly at eight, she took one last glance in the hallway mirror, let out a nervous breath, and opened the door. Reece wore a dark green flannel shirt that brought out the flecks of green in his hazel eyes, and dark jeans that hugged his thighs. Sloane had thought she’d been nervous for her date with Aaron, but nothing prepared her for the squall of epic proportions going on in her stomach.

  He stood in her doorway, looking, for the first time since she’d known him, unsure. This was the man who had an answer for everything. Had enough ego for ten men. And he seemed . . . nervous. He licked his lips and leaned on the doorframe. “Listen, I know this is kind of weird because we’ve known each other pretty much our whole lives.”

  “It is weird.” He frowned, and lines creased in his forehead. She quickly added, “But I’m glad we’re doing it.”

  The dent between his brows disappeared. “I—uh—have something for you.”

  “You . . . got me something? You didn’t have to do that.” Reece, of all people, got her something? The man who, up until last week, didn’t have a knickknack to his name. Had they somehow landed in an alternate dimension?

  The muscles in his jaw feathered, and he said, “I wanted to.” He pulled a tiny figurine of a dog out of his pocket and placed it in her hand. It was a tan dog that looked like Peaches. It even had a blue sweater.

  “I saw it, and it made me think of you. I know that you can’t foster dogs here, but this one will keep you company.”

  Sloane had never been much of a crier. Her emotions were more along the lines of cold cyborg, but even this warmed her robot heart. She cradled the tiny figurine to her chest and smiled. “That’s really sweet, Reece. Thank you. Let me put this down in the apartment, and then we can get going.”

  She placed the dog on her nightstand in her bedroom, grabbed her coat and hat, and then locked the door behind her.

  “Are you going to tell me where you’re taking me now?” She tugged on her hat and slid her arms into her coat as they headed toward the stairwell.

  “It’s a surprise.”

  Reece had been mysteriously cryptic about their date tonight. Honestly, she was surprised he’d asked her out in the first place. It went against his MO. Then again, everything they’d done went against what he normally did. Sloane kind of liked this side of him. As if he was back to the old Reece. The one she enjoyed being around.

  She just hoped he didn’t take her to one of those upscale restaurants like Aaron had. Everything about that screamed uptight and suffocating.

  Fifteen minutes later, they were in the heart of downtown, and Reece parked his Jeep on a side street. This corner had specialty restaurants, ones with delicious smells wafting from open storefront doors.

  She looked up at a sign. CLUB DIY. The letters were made out of recycled parts and tools. The windows were tinted enough so that Sloane couldn’t see in them at this time of night. Was he bringing her to . . . a hardware store?

  “I’ve never been here. What is it?” There were always new stores cropping up in the area, and Sloane could never keep up with the latest buzz.

  He shot her a smile, one that made his entire face light up. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him so excited over something.

  “Let’s head in and find out.”

  Banging and clanging rang out when Reece opened the door for Sloane. The shop was tiny, with cement floors and wood beams crisscrossing along the ceiling.

  Several people sat at canvas-covered worktables, pounding nails into boards. Some were painting; others were stringing together beads on thin black strings.

  A woman with large gauges in her ears and bright red curls pulled back in a bandanna greeted them from behind the main counter. “Welcome to Club DIY, where you can make your own special project. Do you have reservations?”

  Reece nodded. “Should be under Jenkins, party of two.”

  The woman’s long red fingernail tapped against the screen as she scanned her iPad. “Yep. Looks like we have you down. If you look at the sheet here, you can pick a project that you’re interested in. They go by difficulty level and time it’ll take to complete.”

  “Thanks,” he said, and he pulled Sloane closer. She liked how she fit under Reece’s arm. Secure. Safe. Wanted. All things she’d craved but didn’t expect to experience so soon.

  The woman set down the iPad and grabbed her knitting needles and yellow yarn, and she started in on what Sloane assumed was a scarf. “Just let me know when you’ve decided, and I’ll get you set up.”

  Sloane glanced around again, eyeing the rainbow array of paints in one corner, the bins of tools in another. “This is a really cool place.”

  “I thought you mi
ght like it.” He practically puffed up with pride.

  “Don’t look so smug. It’s unbecoming.” Okay, she totally loved this. She could make a new piece to add to her collection.

  His lips twitched. He was obviously pleased with his choice. And he should be, because this place was exactly what Sloane would pick. She scanned the list of items to make. She went back and forth between the painted piece of barnyard wood that could spell out any phrase she chose and the nail and yarn sign. Either one would be perfect to hang in her apartment.

  After a few more moments of scanning the options, she asked, “What are you going for?” She was surprised Reece had picked something like this, since she knew of his inclination for bare walls.

  He pointed to the list and said, “The nail yarn one.”

  “I think I’m going to paint.”

  Reece waved the employee over, and she helped get them set up at the table. It was a tough, weathered canvas table with long reams of construction paper draped over it for protection. Lacquered wooden benches were on either side of the table. Each one could hold at least eight people, and there were six more tables like it in the shop. All the other tables were taken. There were a few groups of women, a pair of couples, and the far corner was filled with a bridal party wearing BRIDE SQUAD sashes.

  Sloane took off her hat and coat and laid them over her purse on the bench. With all the bodies in the tiny space, the shop was warm and cozy, and it had the calming scent of paint and sawdust. It reminded her of her parents with their home improvement projects, spending lazy Sundays in the garage, working with their hands.

  After the woman gave them their instruction packets, Sloane and Reece made their way to the bar in the corner of the shop. The bar top was made from recycled wood, and the barstools were pieced together with an array of little pieces of metal.

  “IPA good for you?”

  “Yeah.” She liked this. That he already knew her drink of choice. In some ways, there was no guesswork when it came to Reece. The part where she knew his likes, his dislikes. And then there was this whole new side of him that she was still figuring out. The one with the wicked tongue who saved her from bad dates and took her to places like this. “How did you think of this place?”