Tasting Fire

by Kelsey Browning

  His hair needed a cut and stood up all over his head like half-sprouted crabgrass. And on his face he wore something so far beyond a five o’clock shadow that it looked as if he’d been covered with potting soil from his cheeks to his throat.

  If he didn’t know better, he would’ve diagnosed himself with a bender hangover and prescribed a banana bag. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a cure for an emotional hangover like this.

  Before he could haul himself to the shower, his phone rang and his sister’s name popped up on the screen. “Hey, Mags. I was just about to—”

  “I already caught Emmy this morning, but I wanted to update you on our investigation into Karen Southerland.”

  Cash’s stomach squeezed into a ball.

  “Turns out, Oliver Amory is a condescending asshole, but he’s not a murderer.”

  “It really was her, wasn’t it?”

  “She might’ve been crazy as hell under all that professional pretense, but damn, she was smarter than any of us could’ve guessed,” Maggie told him. “She was responsible for everything but Emmy’s lawsuit.”

  “Fuck.” Deep inside, he’d known. Cash rubbed his hand across the back of his neck and closed his eyes to center himself. “Just give it to me straight.”

  “The short version is that she hired students—present and past—to do the dirty work for her. The brick through the window was thrown by a guy named Robbie Cappell who graduated from high school four years ago. Windell Owens is a senior who she’d promised a big e-sports scholarship to. Completely empty promise, of course. The fire she actually set herself.”

  “And Jesse Giddings?” he asked.

  “One of the critical care nurses at St. Elizabeth’s owed her education and career to financial assistance that Southerland helped her secure. She’s been charged with murder. The fact that the drug used matched Oliver Amory’s preferred anesthesia was just a coincidence. Even worse, though, is that our McGarvey was in her pocket. Even if that kid hadn’t reached for something in his pocket, McGarvey would’ve found a way to put him in the hospital. The nurse was supposed to take it from there. Karen Southerland was smart. Sick, but smart.”

  “And she took so many people down with her.”

  As horrible as it was, the woman had not taken down Emmy. In Cash’s world, that was what mattered most. So he needed to get his shit together and go find her.

  In the shower, he scrubbed like a man possessed, and shaved while the mirror over the sink was still steamed up. Afterward, he texted Emmy.

  Cash: Maggie called. Confirmed Southerland’s many crimes.

  Emmy: I’m really sorry, Cash.

  Cash: She was sick. What matters most is that ur safe now. Where r u, anyway?

  Emmy: Mountain Springfest. Why don’t u grab some coffee?

  That seemed a little random, even though it was still before noon.

  Cash: What?

  Emmy: Don’t ask Qs. Just chk the coffeepot.

  In the kitchen, he found a note taped to the caffeine machine.

  Today is a day of sun and sweets

  Of people and a place where we made our start

  Meet me on Main Street

  So I can show you what’s in my heart

  It made him smile, her crappy poetry. It was a damn good thing she was a damn good doctor. Because she would starve if she had to compose rhymes for a living. But he’d saved each of them since she’d started this nostalgic scavenger hunt.

  And he’d keep them until the day they laid him in the ground. Just like he planned to keep Emmy all the days in between.

  So it looked as if he had a date to go to the Mountain Springfest.

  When he finally found a parking space and hoofed it four blocks back to Main Street, the festival was in full swing. Music blasted from a Stevie Ray Vaughan cover band set up on the main stage. Food and drink trucks were parked here and there like scattered dandelions, serving everything from pork belly fritters to pimento cheese BLTs to chokecherry moonshine. Booth after booth was filled with handmade goods. If a man wanted a UNC door decoration or a hunting knife with a twelve-point buck carved into the handle or yard art in the shape of a fat dude with his pants pulled down and his ass up in the air, he could get his hands on it here.

  Maybe Cash would buy a piece of art to mark the spot in his backyard where he’d gotten bare-assed with Emmy.

  And would happily do so again.

  For the first time since the school shooting, Cash felt a lightness, a rightness, a peace in his chest.

  Yeah, he’d misjudged and been fooled by a woman he thought was kind and true. The pain of that might never completely fade.

  But this was his community and these were his people. He would not lose faith in them or the basic goodness of humanity.

  Arm-in-arm with a big guy in a cowboy hat and boots, Chelsea Black strolled past Cash. When he lifted his eyebrows at her, she shot him a genuine smile of happiness and waved her left hand. Looked as if Chelsea had found what she was looking for.

  Up ahead, Riley was working on a triple-decker, multi-flavor ice-cream cone while chatting with Way and their parents. As usual, Shep was standing out of the street with his back to one of the buildings. He would come out for loud, busy events, but only for a limited time. And on his own terms. No one tried to cajole him into staying longer.

  When Shep was done, he was done. And he’d usually slip off without saying good-bye. Probably one of the reasons his marriage hadn’t lasted. His ex-wife hadn’t understood that Shep wasn’t the kind of man she—or anyone else—could change.

  Cash edged into the family circle, leaned toward his baby sister, and took a bite out of her ice cream. Oh, yeah. Butter pecan.

  “Dammit, Cash!”

  “Sharing is caring.”

  Riley laughed and whacked him on the back of the head so that his nose hit the scoop of Rocky Road.

  “Keep that up, and you won’t have any left,” he warned. He swiped the dripping chocolate from his face and asked, “Anyone seen Emmy today?”

  “Thought she was staying at your place,” Way said.

  “She is, but she was gone when I woke up.”

  “Maybe she finally got smart,” Riley quipped and handed her ice cream to Way so she could pull out her phone and text.

  Cash noticed his parents were overly interested in people-watching. “Mom? Dad? Either of you see her?”

  “Who?” his mom asked, but her affected casualness didn’t fool him.

  “Emmy. You know, the woman I’ve been in love with for more than half my life.”

  “Oh, her.”

  Even Cash’s dad rolled his eyes at that. An actress Sandy Kingston was not. “I’m sure she’ll turn up sooner or later,” his dad said.

  “The poem said here.”

  “Another one? Is her rhyming improving?”

  “Not really,” Cash admitted. But he loved every word of it. Treasured that she was having fun and being playful and he was a part of that.

  The band wound down from a pretty rockin’ rendition of “Pride and Joy,” and the lead singer said, “Hey, y’all. Thanks for inviting us all the way from Texas to North Carolina. Even though y’all don’t know a darn thing about barbecue, we’re glad to be here.”

  The crowd chuckled at the reference to the beef versus pork debate that separated the Lone Star State from all the states in the Southeast. Well, that and the sauce, too.

  “We’re gonna take a little break and let someone else come up on stage for a minute. But don’t wander off because you do not want to miss this.”

  A ripple ran through Cash as if someone had whispered his name. It must’ve been a premonition, because Emmy climbed up on stage holding a piece of paper. Her dark hair was loose, and she wore a pretty green sundress that made him think of stripping it off in his greenhouse. Her arms and legs were strong and lightly tanned, but up on that platform with what had to be thousands of people looking up at her, she seemed tiny and somehow vulnerable.

  The shy s
mile she gave the crowd only intensified that impression, reminding him of the picture on the honey jar. “Hey, y’all,” she said into the microphone that echoed her sweet voice down Main Street. “It’s great to see so many familiar faces. For those who don’t know me, I’m Emmy McKay, and I grew up here when Steele Ridge was Canyon Ridge. I left for a while to go to school and establish my medical career. Now I’m back working with St. Elizabeth’s and Steele Ridge’s tactical medical team, which supports the SWAT team that serves this part of North Carolina.”

  That earned her cheers and whistles and claps. But she quickly waved them off. It looked as if she was no longer persona non grata, now that people knew Karen Southerland had been behind all the recent violence and the newspaper had issued a follow-up op-ed that refuted the professional accusations she’d waged against Emmy.

  “Today, though, I’m standing up here as a woman who left behind so many important things when I moved away from this town. The people. The feeling of community. But more than that, I left behind a man. The man I didn’t realize was the one—the only one—for me.”

  All the people who were familiar with Cash and Emmy’s history turned and looked directly at him. And he refused to rock from foot to foot even though having the limelight turned on him was awkward.

  Was this the way she’d felt when he’d put her on the spot? Unsure, uncomfortable, totally out of control?

  “Although I’m a doctor, and you know what that means about writing skills, I have something I wrote that I’d like to read.” She took a breath, glanced down at the paper she held, and when she looked back up, she wore confidence and certainty in every part of her body.

  Sometimes being young

  Doesn’t mean you’re dumb

  The things you feel

  Are just as real

  But belief takes time

  And often a difficult climb

  But once you can clearly see,

  You can embrace what’s meant to be

  An elbow rammed into Cash’s rib cage, and he glanced over to find Way was saying something.

  “What?”

  “Get your ass up there. She’s asking for you.”

  When he stumbled up the steps, his face hot, Emmy’s smile was wide but shaky, and he knew she was just as exposed as he was.

  As a teenager, he hadn’t been able to see that they weren’t ready for a big public declaration of love and forever. But what about now?

  All this time, he’d believed she’d once humiliated him. But had it really been humiliation? Or had what he felt at the time been embarrassment for backing Emmy into a corner that she’d had no choice but to run from?

  He hadn’t given her room for anything but yes or no.

  And when she’d said no, his only thought had been to protect himself. But what about her? He’d forced her to protect herself, too.

  So it was time to step up. “Hey,” he said to her. “This is… um…”

  She shifted away from the mic so her words wouldn’t carry to the crowd. “Scary? Overwhelming? The height of vulnerability?”

  “All of the above,” he admitted. But there was a glowing hope that was eclipsing all those uncertain emotions. “But I’m willing to see how it all plays out.”

  Emmy crooked a finger for him to follow her as she moved back toward the mic. “Some of you were standing right here thirteen years ago when Cash Kingston did something very brave and asked me to marry him.”

  A rustle of sound waved through the crowd.

  Cash sought out his family to see if they’d known about this. His dad had an arm around his mom and they were grinning like two possums in a bag of cat food. Yeah, they’d known what was going down here today.

  “That day, I was just a serious girl with a lot of living and learning in front of me. I thought the only way to build the life I wanted was to work really hard and make it perfect. What I didn’t realize was that finding joy and accepting love is an inherently imperfect process. And without those imperfections, life isn’t worth much.” From a pocket in her dress, she retrieved a plain white box.

  One that had been well-handled since he last saw it, because the edges were worn down to the brown cardboard beneath.

  When she popped it open, it held the white gold engagement ring he’d offered her all those years ago.

  “It looks so small,” he said. He could do better now, but he had a feeling Emmy wasn’t as interested in better as she was in forever.

  “We’ll be lucky if it fits your pinky.”

  “Are you giving it back for good this time, Emmy?”

  “I’ve kept it all these years and I realized it was because I did want to give it back one day. Cash Kingston, will you marry me?”

  He scooped her up in his arms, not caring that the ring box was crushed between them. “You better believe it, because I’ve been waiting all my life for a less than perfect girl like you.”

  Discover More Steele Ridge

  STEELE RIDGE: THE KINGSTONS

  Craving HEAT, Book 1

  Tasting FIRE, Book 2

  Searing NEED, Book 3 (October 2018)

  Striking EDGE, Book 4 (Spring 2019)

  STEELE RIDGE: THE STEELES

  The BEGINNING, A Novella, Book 1

  Going HARD, Book 2

  Living FAST, Book 3

  Loving DEEP, Book 4

  Breaking FREE, Book 5

  Roaming WILD, Book 6

  Stripping BARE, Book 7

  Enduring LOVE, A Novella, Book 8

  Don’t miss out on a single release—or sexy hero!

  Click the image below to sign up for our news alerts .

  Want to help Kelsey, Tracey, and Adrienne get the word out about their Steele Ridge series? Write a review and/or recommend to a friend!

  Also by Kelsey Browning

  PROPHECY OF LOVE SERIES

  Sexy contemporary romance

  Stay With Me

  Hard to Love

  * * *

  TEXAS NIGHTS SERIES

  Sexy contemporary romance

  Personal Assets

  Running the Red Light

  Problems in Paradise

  Designed for Love

  * * *

  BY INVITATION ONLY SERIES

  Sexy contemporary romance

  Amazed by You

  * * *

  G TEAM SERIES w/NANCY NAIGLE

  Southern cozy mysteries

  In For a Penny

  Fit to Be Tied

  In High Cotton

  Under the Gun

  Gimme Some Sugar

  * * *

  JENNY & TEAGUE NOVELLAS

  Contemporary romance

  Always on My Mind

  Come a Little Closer

  * * *

  STEELE RIDGE SERIES

  Romantic suspense collaboration with Tracey Devlyn & Adrienne Giordano

  The BEGINNING

  Going HARD

  Living FAST

  Loving DEEP

  Breaking FREE

  Roaming WILD

  Stripping BARE

  Enduring LOVE

  * * *

  STEELE RIDGE: THE KINGSTONS

  Craving HEAT

  Tasting FIRE

  Searing NEED (October 2018)

  Striking EDGE (Coming 2019)

  Burning ACHE (Coming 2019)

  Acknowledgments

  This book was one of the most ambitious I’ve written so far, and without the help of some über-smart and talented folks, I wouldn’t have been able to tell Cash and Emmy’s story.

  A HUGE you-pull-my-butt-out-of-the-fire-on-the-regular hug to Heather Machel and Donna Duffee. Without you two super chicks, I would lose my mind and get a lot less accomplished. On the days I forget to tell you that you rock, please pat yourself on the back for me.

  A sassy hell-yeah to the Sass Kickers for being a fun and understanding fan group. Y’all always forgive me for disappearing to write and travel. Mwah!

  To my small but mighty Inne
r Circle group, I want to say thank you for being such determined creatives. You inspire me even on my uninspired days.

  To the College Station Med ER staff, thanks for letting me get a peek into your fascinating and fast-paced world. Now I know that pizza is an acceptable bribe for unlimited medical knowledge.

  Thank you to Dr. Heather Patton for letting me drop her name into this book. Sorry I didn’t describe you as a hot chick with a fab sex life. Maybe you can cameo again in the future, and I’ll do better.

  To Jacob Prazak, I don’t even know where to start. When I need your brain, you’re patient and thrilled to help. Thank you so much for being the person you are and letting me borrow a slice of your firefighting world.

  Josh Rahmani, this book would not have survived without your insight into the world of tactical medicine. Now, I have even more admiration for what you and other tac medics do. Because who knew you were the SWAT team room mothers?? Also, a fist bump for your liberal use of the f word. Finally, I may have met my foul-mouthed match.

  And to Bran, the little sis who grew up to be a kick-ass nurse practitioner…Where would I be without your incredible store of knowledge and twisty brain? I can’t think of anyone better to kill people with than you. If I keep coming to the ER, I might have to start doing more than bringing food. And maybe I’ll even write one of Bill’s stories. Then again, maybe not.

  Any medical, tactical, or firefighting mistakes in Tasting Fire are solely mine.

  A sincere genuflect of appreciation to the fabulous editors who help make these books possible. Gina Bernal and Martha Trachtenberg, we couldn’t bring Steele Ridge to life without your expertise! Any errors—and liberal use of Southern dialogue—are completely my fault.