Hot As Blazes

by Dani Jace

  “Vintage. I loved those old style beach houses. Wrap around porches and window shutters.” She chewed her baloney sandwich.

  “Dad inherited the place from his grandparents. Now my brother and I live there.”

  “Not married then.” Tami’s hazel eyes lightened.

  Jo shook her head while fiddling with her napkin.

  “Some guy’s got your attention, though.”

  More like her soul. “Maybe, what about you? Husband? Kids?”

  “Two kids.” She sipped her water. “The old man split when they were in diapers. Mom moved in after Dad passed.”

  Seemed like a hard profession for a single mom. “So, why firefighting?”

  “Decent pay and benefits. Plus I’m athletic.” She pointed a chip at Jo. “Rumor floating around is your dad used to be a captain in the county and you’re a pro-surfer.”

  No point in lying. She liked Tami. “Former on the pro. My big dream went bust.”

  “Honey, you’re preaching to the choir.”

  “Would you be interested in riding together? We’d save on gas.”

  “And one of us would get another hour of sleep.” Tami laughed.

  “Damn good point.”

  Back at home, Jo climbed the stairs on wobbly legs. A shiny bundle greeted her on the kitchen counter. A Mylar blanket tied with gauze for ribbon. She smiled at the innovative packaging.

  The odd shape had her guessing. Untying the ribbon tied around the Mylar blanket, she found a weighted vest. One of the weight slots held a small card.

  Jo,

  Wear in good health!

  Luv ya,

  Ray.

  P.S. Turn card in for free massage!

  So he still had his key to the house.

  A lump formed in her throat at his thoughtful, yet practical, and by no means cheap, gift. It was one less training item she’d need to purchase.

  She shrugged on the vest then added the shoulder weights. The seventy plus pounds simulated the weight of a firefighter’s gear. A quick sprint of the stairs warned her of a need for heavier squats. The real test, however, would be adding smoke and several hundred degrees of heat.

  She fired off a thank you text ending with XX’s and OO’s, and asked for a training session.

  The door opened and in walked Bobby still in uniform. “Wow. Sexy vest,” he teased as he hung up his hat.

  “There’s nothing hot about a woman gaining seventy pounds in a nanosecond.”

  “Black is slenderizing though.” He pulled a beer from the fridge.

  “Why aren’t you at Sarah’s?” She peeled free the Velcro straps and let what amounted to more than half her body weight drop onto the kitchen chair.

  “I wanted to see how your first day went. I’ll make dinner. You hit the books.” His serious dark brown eyes reminded of Dad’s.

  So now that she was doing what he wanted he’d forgive her for being mad at him. Brothers. “Yes, sir.” She saluted.

  He returned her salutation with an obscene finger gesture as she collected her study materials and headed for the sofa.

  * * * *

  By Friday Jo was tempted to beg off her shift at Papagayos. Every muscle in her body ached.

  “So how’s it going, Gimpy?” Harley watched her gingerly duck behind the bar. “You look rode hard and put away wet.”

  “And not in a good way. You might want to get some back up. This bod won’t handle full shifts on both Friday and Saturday while I’m in the academy.”

  “How about you work a partial on Friday and I’ll close? I need you here all night on Saturday.” He cocked a brow. “The customers love you, babe.”

  “What’ll it cost me?” Considering Ray’s statement about Harley’s dark tastes it might not be worth it. He didn’t answer, but his molten chocolate gaze almost ignited her clothes.

  By the end of the night, she’d forgotten her debt to Harley. Crawling into the cooler of ice with the beer looked more inviting than her bed. She tapped a text to Ray asking for the massage he’d promised.

  Chapter 12

  A steady stream of smoke wafted skyward on the cloudy November day as Jo turned onto Sir Walter Raleigh Street heading to Manteo’s port area. The two-alarm fire had two engines and two trucks already on scene, tending a large schooner puffing black smoke.

  En route to her first volunteer call since she and Tami had attended volunteer orientation at one of the stations on OBX. The mobile nine-one-one call application she’d downloaded to her phone had alerted her.

  She slid the Broncosaurus to a halt and grabbed her gear. Running in the bulky bunker pants and heavy boots made her feel like a big, yellow Pillsbury dough girl.

  An attack hose line already snaked onto the watercraft while the second engine kept water lines aimed at neighboring boats. Thankfully, the Elizabeth II, a replica of the ship that brought the first colonists, sat on the opposite side of the harbor.

  A tap on Jo’s shoulder nearly had her jumping out of her skin.

  “Dang, Jo. Jumpy?” Tami hee-hawed like a donkey.

  “What are we supposed to do? The exposures are being handled, unless they start throwing shit off.”

  A blackened frying pan burst through an open window. It splashed into brackish water below with a sizzle. More smoke spewed from the opening. The boat’s bilge pump didn’t match the water volume from the fire hose. The ship sank deeper into the water.

  “Once it’s out, unhook and suction,” the captain radioed. “Let’s wrap this up.”

  In a couple of minutes, the firefighters exited and left the craft floating at its normal waterline.

  “Rack the hoses.” The captain motioned to Jo and Tami.

  “Make sure you lay it straight, vollys,” a firefighter called to Jo with a grin.

  Tami frowned.

  “Get used to it,” Jo warned. “They’re the pros, not us, not yet.”

  By the time she finished, Jo’s T-shirt was soaked beneath her turnout coat, despite the cool wind. After returning to her truck, she dropped the back gate, opened a case of water and proceeded to offer a bottle to each of the firefighters.

  Captain Grady thanked her. “Aren’t you Cappy Mercer’s daughter, Joann?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “That was a long walk,” The barrel-chested officer said through teeth that had seen their fair share of tobacco.

  “Sir?” She frowned. What the fuck did that mean?

  “Four years of college and pro surfing, only to come back and take up where your old man left off.”

  If he meant to offend her, she refused the bait. “My dad was an excellent firefighter. I will never compare to him.”

  “You started off right, volly. You thought to have water on hand.” He patted the top of her helmet then headed to his crew. “Got his spunk too, kid,” he said over his shoulder.

  Clouds stretched like dark fingers claiming the remaining daylight. The Broncosaurus lumbered home as Jo digested the call and the captain’s comment. A message left at the house invited her to dinner with Bobby and Sarah. She politely declined, preferring a hot shower.

  She built a Caesar salad and poured a Jack on the rocks before hitting the couch in front of the big screen with her EMT study guide. Her cell phone startled her to the tune of Fire. Her heart started a mad gallop. “Hey.”

  “How was your first call?” Ray asked.

  “Who’s your informer?”

  “Tommy. He’s the driver on our truck. Today he had a swing shift at Roanoke Island. He remembered me loaning you my coat at the bike incident. Now he knows you’re Bobby’s sister.”

  “Word travels fast.”

  “The water was a nice touch. Just so you know, next time they’re expecting cookies, too.” His light exhale sounded like a smile.

  “I’m still waiting for a massage,” she said saucily.

  “Hmm…Are you sure you’re ready?”

  “Are you?” She pu
shed the envelope, with whiskey courage sweeping through her limbs like her desire for him.

  Ray growled low in his throat.

  Taking advantage of the silence, she brought up Thanksgiving. “You may already have plans, but Sarah’s cooking Thanksgiving dinner next week. There’ll be plenty to eat. We’d love to have you.”

  “You’re only helping, right?”

  He’d never trust her cooking skills. “Yeah, like taking stuff out of the can.”

  “I may have to work. I’ll check the schedule and let you know. Nice going on the volly call, Dahlin’. Keep up the good work.”

  Her heart sank. It’d been a long time since she’d spent the holidays with those she loved.

  * * * *

  A week’s worth of boring ride-a-longs and Ray’s non-committal reply about Thanksgiving dinner left Jo in a foul mood. After her partial shift at Papagayos, she hurried to meet Sarah at the grocery store.

  “You look frazzled.” Sarah grabbed a cart as they walked inside.

  Jo swept her hair up, tying it in a knot. “Busy week. My pillow is calling.”

  “What about Ray?

  “Huh?”

  “Is he coming for Thanksgiving?” Only her intense hazel eyes gave evidence of her real interest.

  Why’d she care if Ray was coming? Maybe he’d decided his captain’s daughter was less schizoid. “He might have to work.” She dropped two cans of yams in the basket. “Or maybe he’s got another offer.”

  “Doubt it. He keeps calling you, girl.”

  “What about Bobby and you? Any extended plans?” She changed the subject as they wound around the produce section.

  “We’re taking it one day at a time. He’s still worried about you. Says Cali has affected your outlook.” She picked up a head of collards.

  “God, Sarah. If you guys get married or move in together, I’ll be fine.” He’d kept his life on hold long enough. “And Bobby doesn’t like greens.”

  “He’ll learn.” She grinned. “Should I ask him to call Ray about dinner?” Her southern sweet smile warned of matchmaking.

  “Please don’t. No big deal.” Just her heart.

  * * * *

  Saturday night after closing, Jo hung the last of the washed glasses. “What were the spooks doing back?”

  “What spooks do best.” Harley’s deep voice boomed though the empty bar as he sat at the back tallying the register.

  She tensed as he rose and stepped behind the bar.

  “Listen, Jo, there’s something you need to know, but it’s gotta stay between us. You understand? No telling Bobby or Ray.” His mouth set in a hard line.

  She sensed bad news. “Got it.”

  “The spooks are DEA.” He eyed her.

  Her heart froze mid-beat.

  “Seems there are some new players on the local drug scene. I play CI, confidential informant, for them from time to time.” His eyes turned molten, burning through her.

  Her knees wobbled. Nausea hit her like a rogue wave. Leaning against the bar for support, she scraped a hand across her face. It sounded like something Vic would do, stir trouble and add her name to the mix. “Tell me I’m not their suspect?”

  Harley stepped closer. “They’ve been checking your e-mails, texts, voicemails. And following you. I didn’t figure you for the source, but they had to follow-up, especially since the Ecstasy drops started right after your return.”

  “That’s why you offered me the job, isn’t it?” Jesus! She’d been under a microscope. Bile inched to the back of her throat. God, it was happening again.

  “DEA got a tip on you. Lucky me, you just happened in and needed a job. Normally, I’d have asked you for a date, slipped you a happy pill and taken you to bed. Where you would’ve told me everything.”

  “Confident fuck.” She pushed away and pinned him with a hardened glare. She started for the exit.

  “I liked you, Jo, the minute you came in for a beer. Having you work here, I obtained all the information they needed with the least damage to you. And honestly, I needed a weekend bartender.”

  She sucked at reading people anymore. As she reached the door, a different dread seeped into her consciousness. She skidded to halt and faced him. “Do you think someone was trying to set me up?”

  If the DEA wasn’t watching her anymore, then who had they turned their sights on?

  “All I know is you’re off the radar. Watch your six. Inmates do amazing shit, even from a cell. Especially if they’ve got someone on the outside who’s computer savvy. I’ll try to dig deeper, but you’ve got to…” He motioned across his mouth to zip lips. “And I mean no one.”

  Chapter 13

  The next morning, Jo sipped coffee on the deck, using the waves as her pathway to Zen hoping to dispel her bizarre dreams. Harley’s clarification session weighed heavy in her cortex. Her cell rang to Ray’s tone. “Lo.”

  “What can I bring Thursday?”

  The deep timber of his voice banished her burdening thoughts. Just your hot self. “The massage you promised me.”

  “Scented oil and some wine good? What are you doing now? Interested in some training?”

  “What kind?”

  He chuckled. “Maybe I should get more creative. How about some stairs and you can practice dragging a hose?”

  “Whose hose?” She giggled. “When and where?”

  “Now. The high school stadium.”

  Already in sweats, she grabbed her keys and had the Bronco on the by-pass speeding for her alma mater. She needed some distraction. The more physical the better. Having a hot looking trainer couldn’t hurt.

  Pulling into the parking lot, she found him leaning against his Hummer, dressed in black sweats and matching hoodie, he looked like a wall. One she’d like to climb and ride.

  He caught her appraising glance, and he grinned. “Let’s go.” The crisp air formed smoke from this breath as he sprinted up the stadium stairs, leaving her to trail him.

  She caught his linebacker form, picked up his rhythm, and maintained. On the third rotation, her foot slipped on a slick aluminum step slamming her shin into the step above.

  Imagining a splintered bone, she pushed past the pain and finished at his heels.

  “It’s a shame you didn’t play college football.” With hands on her hips, she leaned over catching her breath.

  “Only the quarterback was offered a scholarship on this sandbar, and my grades weren’t good enough for one in academics.” He turned for the track and set a comfortable pace for her.

  He would have been an awesome tight end, but college cost money his mother didn’t have. Jo only made it to college courtesy of a private surfing scholarship offered by a rich man in California who had lost his daughter in a surfing accident.

  After two miles, they returned to his truck. He opened the back gate and tossed a roll of old fire hose onto the ground. Then rolled a trash drum a few yards out. She’d love to see him in firefighter mode. She’d trust no one more. She needed to let go of past perceptions and trust him as a lover.

  * * * *

  Ray had vowed to stay away from Jo until Thanksgiving. Determined not to distract her until she’d acclimated to the academy, he’d only called to see how she was doing. His patience had worn thin. This morning, he had to lay eyes on her. He should have joined her surfing but he didn’t trust himself alone with her at the beach house. Training provided quality time with her without the temptation of pushing her to a physical level he doubted she was ready.

  “Just like you did on the CPAT test,” he instructed. “Drag the hose seventy-five feet to the barrel. Pull it around at ninety degrees and then drag it another twenty-five feet. Drop to one knee and pull fifty feet of hose. It’s a lot heavier when filled with water, not to mention wilier. I’ve seen it toss the biggest guys in the air if the engine operator sets the gauges too high.”

  She followed his instructions. By the fourth time, she’d perfected the tech
nique. He kept tension on the hose with his foot to simulate the weight of a full line. Though the air temperature hovered at forty-five degrees, she was drenched beneath the heavy bunker gear.

  “Firefighters are always sweating.” He smirked.

  She continued the drill until he called a time-out.

  “Time for some water.”

  At his truck, she chugged a bottle of water in seconds. “If only I could drag the hose as fast.”

  “You didn’t learn to surf in a day.” He removed his toboggan and guzzled some water. Then caught her staring. “Everything okay?”

  “I like your hair short. And this.” Her fingers traced alone his stubbled jawline.

  The way her eyes lit up enticed him. He latched onto her fingers and brought them to his lips “And I’m glad you left yours long.”

  Her bashful smile lite her face. “Do you think I can do this job when the time comes?”

  Flipping his shades to the top of his head, he squinted. “You’ll make it. How’s your shin?”

  “Throbbing.”

  “Let’s see.” He picked her up by the waist and seated her in the back of the truck. She groaned as he drew up her heavy Gore-Tex pant leg.

  “Ouch.” He frowned. “You got a goose egg. Such a tough girl.” He grazed her injury with an easy touch.

  He snagged a water bottle from the cooler and secured it around her leg with a sprain band from his gear bag.

  She touched his shoulder. “Always a prepared firefighter. Thanks.”

  He wanted to be there for her, whatever she needed. At times, guilt plagued him for not flying out to California when she’d lost her scholarship. Damn, it was hard knowing how much to push with Jo. He could hardly believe she let him tend her leg. He stepped back and shrugged from his bunker coat.

  “Okay, I gotta know. What the hell do you bench-press?” She grinned.

  “Let’s just say you’d only be an easy warm-up set.”

  “Hmm. Am I doing the right thing, Ray?”

  He cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t compete with you muscle guys. If I can’t be decent at being a firefighter, I’d rather not give my gender a bad rap.”