Light Up The Tree: A Firehouse Three Novel

by Regina Cole

  “Sorry, I need to head in to work. You mind locking up?”

  “No,” she said, taking a step toward him. “Nate—”

  But he’d left the room.

  She yanked her clothes on as quick as she could, then ran barefoot into the hall. “Nathaniel!”

  But the front door had already swung shut behind him.

  Stunned, she looked at the carved panels.

  How… Why?

  She didn’t know. She couldn’t know. But something very big was unfolding, and it felt like she didn’t understand the half of it.

  Numb and shaken, she went back into the bedroom and slipped on her shoes. The click of the light switch sent his bedroom into the dark, and she shut the door behind her.

  In the kitchen, two cold bowls of chili sat congealing in the places they’d set them so long ago. She scraped out the bowls, dumped the biscuits in the trash, rinsed the dishes and placed them in the dishwasher.

  With her blazer over her arm, she looked back at Nate’s house, her hand on the front door’s brass knob.

  There was more to Nate than she’d thought. And though she was tempted to go back into the bedroom, discover more of his secrets, she couldn’t. Not without him by her side.

  Nate had trusted her, and she’d die before she violated that trust.

  Though she was longing to find out the why of it all, she left his house, locking the door behind her.

  Curiously full and empty at the same time, she drove toward home with a body full of passionate memories and a mind full of racing questions that couldn’t yet be answered.

  But when they were together again? All bets were off.

  10

  When Nate arrived at the station, he threw his bag into the locker and headed in the direction of the sound of voices.

  Though his natural inclination was to be alone, maybe go into the garage and triple-check the trucks—it was normally one of his jobs anyway, but since Chaz had been on shift early today, it would have already been done—he thought it might be best to be around people.

  Being alone would throw him into a worse headspace than he was already living in, and dwelling on the fact that Allison had stumbled on his drawer full of keepsakes from their friendship might just fuck him in the head.

  “Cowboy,” the chorus came as he entered the room. Nate threw his hand up in a wave as he rounded the long table in the dining portion of the kitchen area where eight people were seated.

  The scent of popcorn in the air made his stomach rumble, reminding him that Mama K’s pancakes had been a long time ago. He reached past Chaz’s shoulder to grab a handful from the huge bowl of fluffy white corn.

  “Thanks for coming in,” Chief Donaldson said as Nate munched on the corn and pulled open the fridge to snag a root beer. “Forrest had something come up at home and needed to duck out.”

  “No problem,” he said as he sank into the empty chair between Chaz and Abby. “I was going to head in soon anyhow.”

  Conversations were rumbling around the table. Drake, Hunter, and Ty were at one end of the table, debating the relative merits of the latest hit action film, which they’d seen thanks to the crew member with connections in the film industry. Donaldson was frowning down into his newspaper while Reid began unwrapping a huge chocolate brownie from a basket someone had left in the center of the table.

  Beside him, Abby’s phone let out a brief chirp, and Nate looked over as she pulled it from her pocket. Rolling her eyes, she stood.

  “Sorry, I need to make a call.”

  The phone was up to her ear before she even made it out the door. “Kyle, you’re just going to have to grab him and put him back. No. I know you don’t like to touch the snakes, but what am I going to do, leave work because he escaped?” Her voice faded down the narrow hallway, as if she was ducking into the gator pit to finish the convo.

  “Looks like trouble in sibling paradise again,” Reid grunted into his brownie before taking a massive bite.

  “I don’t know why they try to live together,” Ty said, leaning back in the chair and scratching his flat belly. There was an empty microwave meal tray in front of him. “Kyle’s constantly on her about everything, and he hates those snakes of hers.”

  Chaz nudged the popcorn bowl closer to Nate, and Nate thanked him with a nod before tucking in. The salty, buttery snack helped settle his innards, which had knotted up every time the memories from earlier today crashed over him. He dropped a crumb on the edge of the table, and before he could even grab it, Chaz was on it with a napkin, shooting Nate a little glare.

  Neat freak. But it was good. Kept him from thinking about Allison, and the way she’d accidentally seen what a fool he was over her.

  Sex was one thing, easing into what he wanted them to be. But her knowing the whole of how lost he was over her? That was a different kind of animal altogether.

  Distraction. He needed it, and badly. Abby and Kyle. That was the topic, right?

  “Probably because she’s his baby sister and he wants to watch out for her. Makes sense, if you think about it.”

  Seven sets of eyeballs looked his way.

  “Wow, Cowboy, I think that’s the most I’ve heard you say at one time ever.” Reid laughed. “What’s in that popcorn, Chaz? Or did something happen to Nate this morning that’s got him singing like a canary—didn’t get laid, did you?”

  “Lay off, Reid,” Liz, the short-haired, steely-eyed mama bear of the station said from her position in the corner. She’d been reading a study manual for her paramedic test, but as the only one who could effectively curb Reid’s over enthusiasm, she frequently kept an ear out. It was probably a habit. She did have a rambunctious toddler at home. “Cowboy doesn’t need your shit.”

  In order to prevent himself from saying anything else, Nate shoved another handful of popcorn into his mouth.

  “Don’t worry about it, man,” Ty said, an uncharacteristic note of seriousness in his voice. “I meant to thank you for that tune up you gave my Mustang. Didn’t expect that with the oil change. Good work, she’s purring like a kitten.”

  Nate just nodded his thanks. He enjoyed being the station’s mechanic. Ty’s reminder helped ease the discomfort that Reid’s words had stirred. Reid was much too close to right for his comfort. Reid played the dumb redneck so well that his hitting so close to the money was a stunner.

  God. Allison.

  The communion with her had been incredible, and the aftermath had threatened to wreck him.

  Why did he keep all that shit in his chest of drawers, anyway? There was no use in it. It was just clutter. Junk. Important to no one but to his sad, pathetic memory. Every now and then, when he felt like torturing himself, he’d pull out the contents and spread them over his bed and just wonder what it would have been like if he and Allison were more than friends.

  He was a sap. A loser. Pathetically mooning over the one woman he’d thought he would never have.

  And yet… They’d slept together. Things were actually happening, and the moment had arrived. But was it all ruined now that she’d seen the evidence of his emotional attachment?

  Had she just needed to scratch an itch, and he was handy? Or did she—could she—feel something for him like he did for her?

  The conversation had resumed around him, but he wasn’t tracking what the rest of the Firehouse Three crew was discussing. Beside him, Chaz nudged him with an elbow.

  When Nate looked over, he crooked a brow as if to ask, Want to talk about it?

  Nate gave a quick shake of his head. Too much, too much, no words.

  Chaz nodded and went back to his popcorn.

  Nate shifted his cowboy hat back on his head and laced his fingers over his belly, staring at the ceiling. His head and his heart were full of Allison, and try though he might, he couldn’t rise above the obsession.

  And he didn’t really want to.

  The alarm sounded, and then they were all on their feet as the dispatcher’s voice piped in through the station’
s many loudspeakers. Nate, Liz, Hunter, and Drake ran for the truck as the address and emergency rattled off.

  Ty, Reid, and Abby followed behind them. It was a house fire, and the secondary crew would be on the ladder truck.

  The adrenaline racing through his veins as he stepped into his turnout gear wiped all the personal shit away. Liz was already in the driver’s seat, buckling up as he, Hunter, and Drake clambered in the back. With his gear on, and his focus set, Nate looked straight ahead as the engine rumbled out of the bay and onto the street, siren wailing.

  Distraction on the job could get someone hurt, or worse. The men and women on his crew depended on him just as surely as he did them, and he wouldn’t let them down.

  Not for anything.

  * * *

  Determined to put her worries into the back of her mind, Allison floated through the rest of the day and night. They had a “no texting while Nate’s on duty” rule, and that helped. If she’d had the option of chatting him up, there was no way she could have gotten anything productive done.

  She'd managed to compartmentalize the whole “Nate’s secret drawer full of memories” thing and focus on the one thing that had kept her body humming with passionate memories.

  The sex.

  As she showered for work the next morning, soap ran down the planes of her body, and all she could remember was how Nate had touched her. How he’d kissed her. How he’d pressed her down into the covers, his big, hard body entering her, stretching her, filling her.

  She shivered, even though the water was hot enough to steam up the bathroom. Thinking about that more would probably make her late to work.

  But how was she supposed to forget the best sex of her life? At least the thoughts of the physical were engrossing enough that she was able to avoid focusing on the emotions brought to the surface by their encounter.

  She wasn’t ready to face those feelings—wasn’t sure that she ever would be.

  Rinsing quickly, she stepped out of the shower and brusquely toweled dry. Running a comb through her wet blonde hair, she stared into the mirror.

  Allison wasn’t vain, but she was a realist. She knew that most men looked at her and found her attractive. There had been enough sexual partners in her life that she considered herself fairly experienced. And she’d had some pretty good sex. Adventurous sex. A little bit of kinky stuff, too.

  But none of it turned her on like Nate had. No guy she’d ever been with had worshipped her with the same single-minded drive that he had. None of them had—well, none of them had touched her heart like he did.

  She blinked at the mirror.

  Her heart. Nate was in her heart. And she was beginning to think that the feelings she’d been denying for so long were something much more than a tender, devoted friendship.

  “What do I do?”

  Her whisper echoed off the dripping tiles, but no answer was forthcoming.

  Sighing, she threw the towel over the bar on the glass shower door to dry and walked barefoot into her closet.

  It was difficult. Things were complicated. How could she know what Nate wanted from this? And could she even consider having a relationship at all, with how things had ended with Burt?

  Never again, she’d told herself when she'd caught him with that other woman. Relationships weren't necessary. She could have sex and have fun and not ever make any promises that could be broken.

  But Nate wasn’t the fuck-him-and-forget-him kind. And she’d known that before falling into bed with him. But she’d been blinded by need, and now that they were apart, the fallout was more difficult to handle than she’d expected.

  Even though her body was still burning with the memory of his touch, she wondered if maybe stepping back wasn't the right thing to do. Nate was so, so important to her. What if this went sideways and she lost him forever?

  Her cell phone rang, snapping her out of her mental downward spiral. She ran to her bedside table to answer it.

  “Hello?”

  Deb’s breathless voice answered. “It’s me. I just got to the office, and there’s an email in the general account from Oliver Logistics.”

  Allison frowned. She’d been talking to the CEO of Oliver Logistics for almost a month now, and had just completed their contract, scheduled to be signed next week. She’d be handling all their charitable efforts for the next three years, and the amount she was getting for it was not insubstantial. Why were they emailing the general office mailbox and not Allison directly?

  “Okay, just forward it to me and I’ll take care—”

  “They’re canceling the contract.”

  Allison’s blood went cold. “What?”

  Deb’s voice dripped with sympathy. “Hon, I’m so, so sorry. It says they want to go in another direction. I just wanted you to know so you didn’t get blind-sided here in the office.”

  “Forward me that email,” Allison said, her knuckles cracking as she gripped the phone tighter. “I’ll call their offices after I read it.” She glanced at the clock. It was only 8:30, and they didn’t open until 9. “No, I'll go over there. I’ll be in as soon as I’ve talked to the CEO.”

  “Okay,” Deb said, her nails clacking on the keyboard in the background. “Good luck. Don’t worry about the office, I’ve got everything under control. Oh, and Burt Young called. I thought it was Oliver Logistics, so I answered the phone, even though we aren’t technically open yet.”

  “Jesus,” Allison groaned. “The last thing I need is my ex dogging after me again after that bullshit at the gala. Did he say what he wanted?”

  “Just to talk to you. I told him you were busy.”

  “Thanks, Deb. I owe you one.”

  Allison killed the call and stalked back into her closet. Damn it. While she’d been in here mooning over what to do with Nate, the biggest contract of the year had been yanked out from underneath her.

  But who could have done such a thing?

  Allison pulled on some silky panties and a matching bra, her teeth gritted as she ran through possibilities. She was damn good at what she did. She’d earned a reputation around Dallas as the go-to person for any sort of respectable charities or fundraising activities. Helping corporations do actual good, helping the community while improving their tax burdens. “Another direction” made it sound like they were hiring someone else. But who?

  She’d gotten her blouse halfway buttoned when her phone dinged, signaling a new email. She stopped dressing to read it.

  Kurtz and Company Consulting

  To Whom it may Concern,

  Thank you for your bid to assist us in our charitable giving department. We have ultimately decided to go in another direction. Thank you for your time.

  Signed,

  Oliver Logistics, LLC

  Nothing. No clues there. Allison let the phone drop to her comforter and finished dressing. Her favorite killer red designer suit and shiny black Louboutins was her attitude made visible.

  Allison was ready to kick some ass and take some names. She’d be damned if she let Henry Oliver walk away from the deal they’d worked so carefully on. Not when she was the best, most qualified individual to do what Henry wanted to do.

  He’d lost his daughter to MS only a few years ago. His company was raking in the profits, and he desperately wanted to donate to research and family assistance. She could help him with starting the charitable foundation he was dying to initiate. She had the contacts, knew exactly who he should hire to run it.

  Who the hell did he think could do a better job than Allison? Was it Barry Wallers? Barry had been Allison’s biggest competition, but he’d been stepping down his business due to age in the past couple years. Did the old guy still have it in him to set up a foundation anymore?

  After the drive, in rush hour traffic no less, she still had to wait five minutes for the doors to the office in the tall downtown building to even be unlocked.

  “I need to see Mr. Oliver, please,” Allison said to the cute brunette receptionist she’d seen on her
other visits to the office.

  “I’m sorry,” the receptionist said, her expression shuttered, “but Mr. Oliver is in a meeting right now.”

  “I can wait,” Allison said, forcing her toe—which was dying to tap impatiently on the polished Carrera marble beneath her foot—to still.

  “The meeting is scheduled to last all day.”

  Shit. Allison forced a genuine smile to her face. “An appointment then. What does he have open tomorrow? The day after?”

  The receptionist’s face fell, just a bit.

  A cold, heavy feeling pressed down on Allison’s chest, making it harder to breathe as realization dawned.

  Oh.

  “He told you not to let me in, didn’t he?”

  The receptionist bit her lip, glanced away, and nodded.

  Taking a deep, cleansing breath, Allison stepped back from the desk. “Okay. I see. Thanks anyway.”

  As she turned to walk away, the receptionist stood. “Wait.”

  Allison glanced over her shoulder. “Yes?”

  Gripping her hands together in front of her stomach, the receptionist looked both ways as if trying to make sure no one was watching.

  “I think you’re a much better choice than that other woman he’s going with. Honestly. I don’t know why—”

  But then the front doors to the place swung open to admit two contractors, who were arguing loudly about some project or other.

  “Hello,” the receptionist said, her pretty smile pinned neatly back in place.

  As she spoke to the contractors, Allison slipped out the front door. In the elevator, she watched as the numbers counted down. The receptionist had said she. So, it wasn’t Barry.

  Who the hell was poaching Allison’s clients?

  11

  Nate somehow managed to keep his mind on his job for the rest of his shortened shift. The overnight was quiet, and he even managed to get a little shuteye in.

  Of course, he dreamed of her. How could he not? While sleeping, she was straddling him, naked, that silky blonde hair of hers falling forward as she leaned down, her hands splayed on his chest, to kiss him.