by Candis Terry
“Then how about ‘Copy that, extremely hot guy whose naked body I can’t wait to get my hands on’?”
That got him the smile he’d been looking for.
“Come on.” He took her by the hand and led her into the kitchen. “I’m starving. Let’s fix some dinner, and you can tell me all about Annie.”
Between grilling the chicken and vegetables and making a salad, he realized how well they worked together. All it took was a little communication. Yes, salt. No, pepper. Yes, you can kiss me while I lean over to grab the zucchini. Speaking of zucchini . . .
In that enlightening moment—not quite worthy of an Iron Chef episode but extra points for the handling of the tools between dishes—he realized that he was happy. Deliriously, life-is-fucking-awesome, happy. And it felt damn good.
“And so . . .” Abby poured a glass of wine for herself, and for him she grabbed a bottle of Sam Adams from the fridge. “I just told Annie to come home. That’s why—minus the new flooring—I finished the house up quicker than planned. I bought her an airline ticket, and she’ll be here next week.”
“Good.” He kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry, sugar. We’ll get her home, and we’ll take care of her and her baby. No worries. Okay? That’s what families do. We take care of each other.”
“We.” She smiled. “I like the sound of that.”
“Me too.” He drew her into his arms, and his heart gave a great big thump as she wound her arms around his neck. He cupped her face in his hands. Rested his forehead against hers. Held her close. “I love you, Abby. I know I should have told you sooner. It would have spared both of us a lot of heartache.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Honestly? I was afraid I’d ruin our friendship. And that meant more to me than anything. Outside of my family, you were the only one I could ever just be myself with. With you, I didn’t have to try to compete or impress or find my place in the mix. With you, I had someone to talk to who’d listen. Someone to dream with who wouldn’t judge. I honestly didn’t know how you felt back then. I didn’t tell you I loved you because I was afraid I’d lose you. I lost you anyway.”
“Yeah. That really sucked.”
“I’m not afraid to say it now.” He kissed her. “I love you, Abby.”
“I love you too.”
He kissed her again. Longer this time. Sweeter. At least it started out that way.
Eventually, she asked, “Are you still hungry?”
“Yeah.” But the smile he gave her said he wasn’t talking about grilled chicken and vegetables.
Chapter 17
Abby spooned eggs onto Jackson’s plate next to the maple sausages and the extra crispy English muffins she’d made. She refilled his coffee mug, then sat down beside him and sprinkled salt on her own eggs.
“I meant to ask last night how the conversation is going with city hall on your rescue center,” he asked between bites.
She didn’t know why, but sitting down with him like this for breakfast seemed so special. At night, they were eager to relax or study, and touch, and make love. The mornings had become the best time to discuss whatever took place the day before and formulate a new plan.
Like a real couple.
She smiled. “So far so good. Although Mrs. Laupner swears the mayor will shoot it down when it reaches the city council.”
“Mrs. Laupner walks around with a half-empty glass. Don’t pay any attention to her.”
“I won’t.” As the kitten and pup scampered across the floor in a game of chase, she smiled. “There are too many little guys like them out there that need my help.”
Fork halted halfway to his mouth, he curled his long fingers into the front of her fuzzy robe and pulled her in for a kiss. “You’re a good woman, Abby Morgan.”
She threaded her fingers through his short, soft hair and kissed him back. “As long as you think so.”
“I do.” He gave her two quick kisses. “I always have.”
“Good to know.”
“It’s my weekend to have Izzy,” he said. “I know we talked about taking it slow with her, so she doesn’t get confused.”
“It’s a good idea,” she agreed.
“I don’t know how I’m going to manage being away from you for three days.”
She touched the side of his face with the backs of her fingers. “I know it won’t be easy for me, but it’s what’s best for your little girl.”
“Think we can at least have a movie date?” He gave her that smile that melted her from the inside out. “The three of us? I got a new DVD she hasn’t seen yet.”
“Are you sure?”
“Definitely. You’re going to be a part of her life from now on.”
From now on sounded permanent. And no words other than “I love you” had ever sounded so good.
“Then count me in and sign me up to bring the popcorn.”
“We don’t let Izzy eat popcorn yet. Choking hazard,” he explained. “But for me you can bring the jalapeño cheese kind.”
“Seriously?”
He chuckled as he took his empty plate to the sink, rinsed it off, and put it in the dishwasher.
Who wouldn’t love a man who picked up after himself?
“Yeah. I like the hot stuff. And that’s exactly where you come in.” He came back to the table, wrapped his arms around her, and softly kissed the sensitive skin between her neck and shoulder.
Who wouldn’t love a man who showed affection so easily? So effortlessly? And so often?
While she certainly felt like she’d died and gone to heaven, she was very happy to still be alive to enjoy the man she’d waited so long to love.
For Jackson, putting on his uniform and walking out the door to go to work had never been so difficult. On rainy days or Sundays, when others were home with their loved ones, he’d never given it more than a passing thought that he’d like to stay home and sleep in because then his bed had been empty—most of the time. Even when it hadn’t been, he hadn’t wanted to stay. Spending time with Abby never seemed long enough. He needed more hours in the day just to be with her. To talk with her. To hold her. To make plans for their future.
And there would be a future.
They’d made it through the weekend apart—barely. And though they’d decided to take things slow so as not to confuse Izzy, it seemed she had a less cautious take on the whole relationship.
When Abby had come over for their movie date, Izzy kept finding ways to put them together. When they’d sat on opposite ends of the couch and put Izzy between them, she got up and pushed Abby toward him. Then she sat simultaneously on both their laps—one chubby little butt cheek on each of their legs. When they sat at the table to eat dinner, she pushed Abby’s plate closer to his. If he didn’t know better, he’d think his little girl had started up Izzy match-making dot com.
The moment he knew his world had really come together had been when he’d tucked Iz into her little princess bed and kissed her good night. She’d looked up at him with a sweet little smile curving her mouth, and said, “Wub you, Daddy. Wub, Mommy. Wub, Abby.” After that, she’d listed all the other family members she loved. That she’d put Abby right in there with the rest told him everything would be okay in her book.
Now, as the morning sun streamed in through the window, he walked into the kitchen, wrapped an arm around Abby’s waist, and kissed her neck as she removed sizzling bacon from the pan.
“Careful you don’t get splattered with hot oil.”
“No worries. At least my EMT training will pay off,” he said, as she pushed a pile of fried potatoes off onto a plate. “You don’t always have to make breakfast for me.”
“I know.” She gave him a smile. “But I can’t bear to send you off to rescue the world with an empty stomach. You need your strength to rescue those damsels.”
“The only damsel I want to rescue is you.” He pushed the frying pan off the burner, sat down at the table, and dragged her down onto his lap. As he nuzzled her neck, she s
melled good enough to eat. “I’ll even pay extra if you put on one of those hot little tavern-wench outfits.”
She laughed. Kissed him. Then stuck a piece of toast in his mouth. “Eat.”
On the counter, her phone chirped, and she got off his lap to answer. She looked down at the number. “Hmmm.”
“Who is it?”
“My attorney.”
With a hot pink fingernail, she tapped the screen and lifted the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
Jackson picked up his fork and tried to eat his breakfast while she repeated a volley of “uh-huhs,” and “yeses,” and “nos” into the phone. But the longer she talked and the more the wrinkle between her brows deepened, the worse his stomach knotted up like a pretzel.
By the time she finished the conversation with an, “Okay, I can be there around one,” and hung up, he was wound tighter than a new coil of rope.
“What’s up?” he asked, trying to sound casual as he pushed away his half-eaten breakfast.
“I have to go to Houston.”
“Today?”
“Yes.”
Dread curdled in his stomach. “Why?”
Her careless shrug didn’t sync with the tension in her shoulders. “Apparently Mark is negotiating some kind of business deal, and there are some papers I need to sign.”
“I thought you signed everything with the divorce.”
“I did too. It was my understanding he’d done everything he could to wipe me from his life like I never existed.”
“Then I don’t understand.” He wasn’t a dumb guy, but none of this made sense.
“I don’t either. Which is why I need to go to Houston.”
“Will Rich be there?”
“My attorney said both he and his lawyer would be attending the meeting.”
Fuck.
She reached past him to pick up his half-empty plate. He laid his hand over hers, halting her progress.
“I don’t want you to go.” Okay, that hardly sounded desperate.
She looked down at him with a hint of disbelief—like she couldn’t understand why he’d even say such a thing. Hell, he knew why loud and clear.
“I have to.”
“Why can’t you just do it over the phone?” he asked. “Why do you have to physically be at the meeting?” Why was she being so stubborn?
“I told you, there are papers I need to sign.”
“They can overnight them to you. What’s one extra day? Let the bastard wait.” That resolution made perfect sense to him as he folded his arms across his chest.
“I don’t think it works that way. The papers will need to be notarized.”
“You could take them to the bank and have Mrs. Mayberry notarize them.”
She folded her arms across her chest in a mirror image. “I don’t exactly want the entire town knowing all my business, Jackson. And no offense to Mrs. Mayberry, but she’s one of the bigger gossips.”
“The whole town already knows your business, Abby.” Irritation sizzled through his veins as he got to his feet. “So what’s the real reason you’re going?”
With a hard exhale, she grabbed his plate from the table and moved toward the sink with no verbal response.
“Abby? Talk to me. Because I really don’t want you to be in the same room as him. And at this late notice, there’s no way I can get off work to go with you.” He wanted to go—to protect her, to be there for her in what would most likely be a difficult moment.
“I’m a big girl. I don’t need you to go with me.” She dropped the dishes into the sink with a clatter that turned the conversation ugly. “Maybe I just need to go. For myself.”
“Why would you choose to put yourself in that predicament?” He felt like he was playing the Sesame Street game of one of these things doesn’t belong.
“Maybe I want to talk to him.”
“What?” Jackson whipped his head around. “Why? What could he possibly have to say that you’d want to hear?”
She shrugged, and a long sigh slipped through the lips he’d kissed just mere minutes ago. “Because maybe I just need to. That’s all.”
“Are you kidding me?” This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good. At. All. “You do remember what this guy did to you. The way he treated you, right?”
“It would be hard to forget.”
“Then I’m at a complete loss here, Abby. Unless you still have some feelings for him.”
She released a harsh puff of air. “Of course I have feelings.”
Not what he wanted to hear. “Don’t go.” Please.
“I have to.”
Jackson felt the ground beneath his feet shift, fracture, and, emotionally, he dropped into a giant sinkhole. He didn’t understand. Nothing made sense. The anger he’d been trying to keep at bay exploded as he realized this cozy little fantasy world he’d created was about to blow apart.
Crazier things had happened, but if she still had feelings—even volatile—for Mark Rich, there was no guarantee there couldn’t be reconciliation. No guarantee that once she went back to Houston, she wouldn’t stay. No guarantee she wouldn’t leave him again, just as he’d feared.
“Fine.” Panic reared its irrational head. “Go.” He turned on his heel and headed toward the door.
“Jackson,” she called out.
He didn’t turn.
Didn’t dare look in her eyes again.
He didn’t trust the emotions bubbling up inside. Didn’t want to make a total ass of himself and beg her not to go. If she wanted to go, there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop her.
Just as he reached the door she caught up to him, wound her arms around his neck, and lifted to her toes. “I love you,” she whispered. “Don’t worry. I should be back by tomorrow.”
He finally looked into her eyes, and he didn’t like what he saw. Fear slithered through him.
Should be back.
The only response he could manage before he walked out the door was, “Yeah.”
Chapter 18
“Maybe you ought to suck in a little more of that fresh air and blow that bad attitude out of your system.”
Jackson glanced up from checking his air pack to find Mike standing there, arms folded, looking formidable as usual.
“Not in the mood, Hooch.”
“No shit.” Mike propped his boot up on the fender of Engine Eleven. “Trouble in paradise?”
With a twist of the valve, the air flow stopped, and Jackson set the pack in the apparatus bay. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah.” Mike gave him the stink eye. “You do. And since you’ve already earned the asshole-of-the-day award, what’s up? Oh, and before you argue? For the safety of the entire station, I think it’s best if you relieve yourself of the agony you are obviously putting yourself through right freaking now and tell me what’s going on.”
Jackson came up to his full height. “You sayin’ I’m a liability?”
“Yeah, buddy. I am.” Mike clamped a hand over his shoulder. “So how about we get a cup of coffee and have a little one-on-one?”
With every intention of refusing, Jackson looked up and noticed the captain standing across the garage with his arms folded and a stern look on his face. Maybe Mike was about to save his sorry ass.
Wouldn’t be the first time.
Inside the kitchen, they both grabbed a mug and filled it with the muddy brew.
“Looks like Hot Rod made the Joe again.” Mike took a big gulp anyway, then grimaced when the liquid washed down his throat. “Damn, that’s horrible shit.”
Any other day, Jackson would have smiled.
They leaned against the counter even though there were empty chairs everywhere.
“I don’t know what’s going on, my man,” Mike said, “but for your sake and everybody else’s in this crew, you need to get it under control.”
Jackson emptied his lungs of air, then sucked in a fresh batch. “I know.”
“Abby?”
He nodd
ed. “She got a call this morning. Something to do with her ex. She had to go to Houston.”
“So? She’s done with the bastard, right?”
“She wanted to go. To talk to him.”
“About what?”
Before Jackson could get the words out of his mouth, the loudspeaker activated the station for a multiple-alarm fully involved structure fire. A familiar energy surged through the station as the crew jumped into action. For the moment, Jackson was regretfully thankful for the distraction.
They’d all dressed in their fireproof gear on the way to a blaze so many times they had it down to an art. By the time they arrived at the two-story roofing manufacturer, along with four other engines, two trucks, and a paramedic squad they were ready for the smoke that had risen into the sky in a huge black plume and the flames that shot out the windows of the bottom floor.
“This is going to be an ugly mother,” Tim “Meat” Volkoff, the engine driver, said as they rolled up into the parking lot.
Nothing but routine, Jackson thought as he climbed out of the engine, down to the pavement, and got to work.
Keep your head clear.
Stay focused.
Each firefighter went about their duties as the captains and the battalion chief assessed the situation and informed them of the plan of attack. From somewhere inside the building, a loud explosion reverberated, and the concrete beneath soles of their insulated boots shuddered. The acrid smell of smoke tickled the back of Jackson’s throat as he looked up to see the aerial ladder move into position.
“Hot Rod. Meat. Ground-level check,” the captain instructed. “Crash. Hooch. Hit the roof. We’ve got missing victims and a lot of hazardous material in there. While we do a search, let’s see if you can get us some ventilation before it gets any hotter.”
Within seconds, Jackson put on his helmet and air pack and led the way up the aerial with Mike close behind. Like most factories or warehouses, the roof was flat, which often made hacking through the thick composition difficult.
Joined by a team from another station they began a roof check. Searching for the safest route and the best place to plant the axes. Though they were equals, Jackson took charge. He’d been a firefighter for a long time. Had been studying every chance he got to move forward in his career. What better time than now to prove himself?
