by Regina Cole
Light Up The Tree
A Firehouse Three Novel
Regina Cole
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Contents
Regina Cole
Light Up The Tree
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
Up in Flames by Sidney Bristol
Light Up the Night by Regina Cole
Up in Smoke by Sidney Bristol
Also by Regina Cole
About the Author
Copyright © 2016 by Regina Cole
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Regina Cole
@reggicole
reggicole
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[email protected]
For Skeeter Cat.
Light Up The Tree
He's a country boy…
Firefighter Nate York isn't the kind of guy she needs, but that hasn't stopped him from wanting Allison from the moment he clapped eyes on her junior year. Years later, he's still thinking about her. Even though his life is great, he can't help but wish he was the polished, urbane kind of man who would catch her eye. He's made himself satisfied with her friendship, but that's not all he wants. Not by a long shot. And when an unexpected kiss makes him realize life isn't lived standing still, he makes a move for the only thing he wants for Christmas. Her.
* * *
She's an uptown girl…
Allison Kurtz keeps her time as filled as she possibly can. That way she can't dwell on her string of failed relationships that stretches all the way across Texas. When an old friend cashes in on a favor, she happily agrees. Helping her buddy Nate pick out a Christmas puppy at Hopeful Paws will be a welcome distraction from her most recent failure in the romance department. But their simple friendship isn't so simple anymore, and Allison's worried that she'll lose the one guy she's always been able to trust if she falls for him. Can a Christmas together convince her that the one she's been searching for has been right beside her all along?
* * *
The glow of their love will LIGHT UP THE TREE.
It’s better to be broken together than dying apart.
1
He didn’t know what the hell the little black blobs on his crackers were, but they were pretty damn tasty.
Nathaniel York—“Nate” to his friends, “Nathaniel” to his grandmother, and “Cowboy” to the rest of the guys at Firehouse Three—was much more comfortable working on his vintage Ford pickup than he was schmoozing at a three-hundred-dollars-a-ticket, black-tie charity function. Taking up residence next to the kitchen doors had been a no-brainer. Easy access to food, and closer to the exits of the Hyatt’s fancy-pants ballroom. He wasn’t even sure what the hell they were raising money for. All he knew was when the email had come through to his Gmail account with that name in the “Sender” line, it had been a done deal.
He would do a hell of a lot more for Allison Kurtz than drop three Benjamins on a fundraiser. Would and had. Not that he would let her know that. She was fiercely independent, and he respected that about her. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t always watching out for her.
She’d made it clear in the past that while she valued his friendship, that’s where it began and ended for her. But Nate couldn’t let her go. No matter how often he’d tried to date other women, no matter who he spent time with, Allison always had first place in his heart. Any sane man would have moved on when he realized that the friend zone was a prison he could never escape.
But here Nate was, like he’d always had a thing for orange jumpsuits.
Licking his fingers as the last of the mystery hors d’oeuvre disappeared, he scanned the milling crowd of upper-crusties to find her. Everyone was chit-chatting, and the orchestra was playing a fancy rendition of “O Christmas Tree.” A little early for him, but, Thanksgiving had been just two days ago.
Where was she? He’d seen her when he’d arrived, but she’d been busy. After all, she was the one in charge of this whole shebang.
Tugging at the cuffs of his borrowed tuxedo jacket—thank Christ the station newbie, Drake Hammerfell, had been nice enough to gussy him up for this thing—Nate strode toward the front of the room, wishing like hell he’d been allowed to wear his cowboy hat. He didn’t feel right bareheaded.
A few women made eye contact, and one even reached out to lay a hand on his arm. He smiled and nodded politely, extracting himself, but he wasn’t interested.
Nobody could hold a candle to her. The way she teased him, laughed with him, forged her way through the world like it was hers for the taking. He respected her and admired her—was only whole when next to her.
God, he was an idiot.
The sound of a musical laugh stopped him dead in his shiny black loafers, and he turned to find it. There she was, dressed to kill in a black dress, her elegant white neck left bare on one side by her side-swept blonde hair. Diamonds dangled from her lobes, her white teeth flashed in a smile, and that dimple in her left cheek still had the power to twist his heart into knots.
Fifteen years after he’d first clapped eyes on her, she was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Back then, she’d been rail-thin, her hair a darker blonde, her frame almost bony. Now? She was leanly muscled, perfectly coiffed, and sleek like a jungle cat.
Just his kind of poison.
“Absolutely,” she was nodding to the squat, balding man in front of her. Nate tamped down the irritation he felt at the way the dude patted her arm.
She’s not yours. It’s not your business who touches her.
His inner voice might be right, but damn it, he hated it.
“…definitely glad you reached out to us to sponsor this event. I think Gladys will be pleased with the amount donated here. It should take care of the cancer foundations’ running expenses for a year, and leave plenty to turn over to research.”
Oh, so that’s what we’re here for, Nate thought as he grabbed a glass of champagne from a waiter in another penguin suit. He wished he could find a damn beer in this place, but the first guy Nate had questioned about it had looked at him like he’d asked for him to piss straight in the glass. Downing the bubbly, Nate waited his turn.
Once Allison had finished her conversation, she turned toward him. And boy, didn’t that happy glint in her gray-blue eyes make his stomach turn flips.
“You came,” she said, her heels clicking on the polished floor as she glided toward him.
He fought the urge to dry his sweaty palms on his tuxedo pants as he ditched the empty glass on the nearest table. “Yeah. Of course, I did. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He gestured around them. “Beautiful job, as usual.”
“Wow,” she breathed, grabbing his hands and holding them away from his body. She took a leisurely glance up and down. “Who’d have thought Nate York cleaned up this good?”
Clearing his throat, he pulled away as quickly as he could, hoping she wouldn’t notice how her perusal affected him. One sure way for him to get an instant erection? H
ave Allison rake her eyeballs up and down his person.
“You look incredible yourself,” Nate said, reaching into his pocket. Removing his handkerchief, he passed it over to her. “You’ve got a little smudge of lipstick at the corner of your mouth, though.”
“Really?” She reached up and dabbed. “Did I get it?”
“Almost,” he said, taking the handkerchief back and stepping close to her.
He shouldn’t be doing this. God knew he’d tortured himself enough for a lifetime, where this girl was concerned. He’d donated to every fundraiser she’d ever organized—and since organizing charity events was her day job, that added up to quite a bit. Hell, he’d even volunteered his whole damn firehouse for that bachelor auction idea she’d used for Hopeful Paws, the pet adoption shelter. He’d answered her phone calls at 3 a.m., been there for her through every breakup, he’d even brought her medicine when she was sick.
But for some reason, none of it was enough. The drive within him to take care of her hadn’t diminished at all. If anything, it was stronger than ever.
Just a few weeks ago he’d taken a woman home from the bar near the firehouse where he worked. She’d been gorgeous—leggy, blonde, what most men would consider a perfect ten. But he’d called out Allison’s name during sex.
She’d left without leaving a number or asking for his. He couldn’t blame her, and honestly, he didn’t want to see her again either. He wasn’t sure what to do, but the way he’d been limping through life wasn’t cutting it anymore.
So, as he wiped away the errant smudge of lipstick with his handkerchief, he wished he could silence the urge within him.
Allison didn’t need anyone to take care of her. And when she fell in love again, it would be with someone in her social league, someone who belonged at shindigs like this. Not a fireman from the wrong side of the tracks who knew much more about carburetors than canapés.
Even though he wanted to look into her eyes and let his thumb brush across her full lower lip, he stepped back and folded the handkerchief, noting the small pink lipstick stain on the white cotton.
“There. Now you’re perfect.”
* * *
For a moment, Allison forgot that she was standing in the middle of the cancer foundation gala that she herself had organized. The weeks she had spent poring over every last detail, the phone calls, the emails, all the worry she’d had burned up in the lingering feeling of his touch on her lips.
This was stupid. This wasn't just another guy. This was Nathaniel. She had depended on Nate for as long as she could remember, and here he was, the same handsome-as-hell, rough-around-the-edges man that had picked her up a billion times before. And knowing Nate, he wouldn’t hesitate to do the same thing a billion more.
Why couldn’t she have fallen for someone like him? Her ridiculous, tumultuous love life had a string of failures a mile long, but if she had just once picked someone like Nate, everything would be different.
She could no more fall in love with Nate than she could an older brother. Much to her regret. She’d thought about it, once, but the note she’d put in Nate’s locker had gone unanswered. They’d only been seventeen at the time, but she’d never forgotten. The first embers of romantic feeling had died, but from the cold ashes had been born a friendship that she couldn’t live without.
Nate didn’t need her the way the guys she’d had relationships with had. He was perfect on his own. He didn’t need fixing, or helping, or straightening out. That was part of the reason she found so much comfort in his presence.
“Thank you,” she said as he tucked the handkerchief into his pocket. It was cute and quaint, how he always carried them. When they were kids, she used to tease him about it. He’d had allergies, and rather than spend money on tissues, his folks had given him some of his dad’s pocket-handkerchiefs, as they called them. He hadn’t ever been without one, and he’d kept the habit into adulthood. He was such a throwback. It was cute.
Tossing her hair, she smiled. “I need to announce the winners of the raffle. I can just imagine what everyone would have thought if I went onstage with lipstick all over my face.”
“It wasn’t that bad.” Nate gave her that crooked smile that she so loved, the one that took her back to warm summer nights on her lawn, lying back and looking at the stars together. “You always look like a million bucks.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she laughed as she patted him on the arm. Her eyes widened and she looked up at him. “Been hitting the gym hard lately, huh?”
Nate shrugged. “Just trying to keep busy.”
“Your hobby slowing down?”
“The Ford’s coming along. Just—” He put his hands in his pockets, the move much more suited to his usual uniform of jeans, T-shirt, and cowboy hat, than the swank designer suit he was wearing. “Just a lot on my mind.”
Allison nodded. Though she would have loved to grill him about the specifics, wondering if possibly there was a lady of his life now, there was too much for her to do at the moment to get distracted.
Even if that distraction was her insides flipping over at the thought that Nate might have finally found a steady girlfriend.
“Okay, you’re off the hook for now. Drinks another night and we can chat?” She found herself hesitating as she waited for the answer, which wasn’t like her.
“Sounds good. Monday would work. A night of beer will be heaven.” He wrinkled his nose as he grabbed another glass of champagne. “This stuff tastes like Welch’s gone bad.”
Allison laughed. “I can always count on your refined tastes, Nate. Chat later.” She turned and walked away, shaking her head. It was fun to see Nate all dressed up. What would her parents say if they saw him like this?
Her stomach tightened just a little as she thought about the upcoming announcement she had to make. It wasn’t nerves, it was anticipation. She loved being in charge, she got off on it. It was satisfying to lay out her goals and accomplish them. Professional projects worked out in a way that personal relationships did not, and the neat little ticked-off boxes made her happy.
As she waved to the cancer foundation’s director who was waiting by the steps in the corner to the small stage, a sudden, sharp voice caught her ear.
“I don’t give a shit about that. I’m not leaving until I see Allison Kurtz.”
“Oh God,” she groaned as she turned her head to find the source of the angry tone. Yep, sure enough, it was him.
Burt. The jerk who had run around on her and then dumped her was here, and apparently, looking for some resolution to their now-final divorce.
“Allison!” Burt yelled her name, his rough, reddish cheeks even more angry than usual. “Where the fuck are you, bitch?”
This was not good. Allison strode toward the waiters who were keeping Burt from lunging at her as if he were an angry bear.
She prided herself on events that were well-run, classy, elegant. Fun. The whole point of charity events like these was for people to have a good time. If everyone was having a good time, the alcohol was flowing, the music was playing, people were laughing, and wallets opened a hell of a lot easier. Helping people was the name of the game. Personal drama had absolutely no place at one of her events, and the fact that it was her personal drama ruining this one?
Totally. Fucking. Unacceptable. And Burt knew it.
“What the hell are you thinking?” She hissed right next to Burt’s ear, not having to stretch in the slightest. He was only five foot eight, and in her stilettos, she was just as tall as he was. “If you’ve got something to say to me, you can say it to my lawyer.”
“The hell I can. You know what you did to me. Are you seriously expecting me to take a financial hit like that?”
Allison glanced aside. A crowd was forming. Deb, her assistant, was doing her best to distract the looky-lous, but it wasn’t working.
“Outside. Now.” She turned on her heel to march through the doors, but a hand gripped the side of her dress.
Riiiip
.
She gasped, turning, and looked down. The slit in her dress was supposed to go to low thigh, but now it was split all the way to her upper leg. She saw red.
“What the fuck did you do?”
He grinned, an ugly expression that did nothing for his looks. What had she ever seen in this guy? Oh, she remembered. He had said all the right things, done everything he could to make sure that she was completely snowed. She had fallen for his lonely expression, seeking to soothe the hurt in him. But she hadn’t known that the hurt was all of his own making.
She was a sucker for a project, and that included men. When would she ever learn?
“This is the last time you fuck me over, you bitch,” he said, before breaking the waiters’ hold on him and lunging for her, right fist cocked back.
She stumbled backward, lifting her arms to block the blow.
2
“Oh, hell no,” Nate growled as he sprinted across the ballroom. He nearly ran over an elderly lady, and as he spun to avoid her like a running back, he tipped a hat he didn’t have.
He needed to get over to Allison. Burt, her last mistake, was here and by the looks of him, he was three-quarters of the way into a bottle of whisky. Burt wasn’t the nicest guy on the planet sober. Drunk?
Nate didn’t trust that sumbitch as far as he could throw him. As far as he knew, things hadn’t gotten violent during the marriage, but he didn’t trust that luck to hold now that the Is had been dotted and Ts had been crossed.
A woman nearby cried out as Burt broke the holds on the waiters who’d been holding him back. Putting on a burst of speed, Nate jumped between Burt and Allison.
Burt’s eyes widened, but the punch was already halfway extended. Nate caught the motherfucker’s wrist in his palm, the smack of skin and bone was loud. The sting of pain fueled his anger, and as he shoved Burt backward, he took pleasure in sending the bastard ass-over-heels to the floor.
