by Liz Talley
Same question Dutch asked, but somehow when Jake asked it, she didn’t feel so prickly. “Sure.”
“Eva,” he said again. His voice felt like the sun coming up in the morning, softly probing the world it brightened.
This time she looked at him. “Charlie’s crying.”
“Why?”
Dutch looked up from where he tapped on his phone. “Is that your brother?”
“Yeah,” Eva said, accepting the fact that everyone in town likely knew she was taking care of Charlie. That was the negative of living in Magnolia Bend. Once one person knows, everyone knows. “He’s six and Jake’s mom is watching him while I’m on duty. He called crying. I don’t know what to do.”
Dutch smiled—a rare occurrence. “Now, this is where I can help you. See, kids know how to yank your chain. They know exactly what to say to make you feel guilty, especially when it comes to things like day care.”
“He’s not in day care. He’s at Fancy’s. That’s like being at Disney World, but with better cooking and no weird characters.”
“Well, if my uncle Carlton shows up, you can strike the weird character thing off that list,” Jake joked.
“So you think he’s just manipulating me?” she asked Dutch.
“I know he is. Don’t you remember how shredded my nerves were a few years back when I had to drop Maisie off at day care? She stood in the window with her hand pressed against the glass crying “Daddy” over and over again. It was brutal. But Mrs. Sandifer said as soon as my truck disappeared she’d skipped over to play with her friends as if nothing was wrong.”
Jake pulled his cell phone out of his bunker coat pocket and tapped. “Hey, Dad.”
Both she and Dutch stopped talking and listened in on the conversation. Jake hit the speaker button.
“So how’s Charlie doing?”
“Oh, he’s great,” Dan Beauchamp said, sounding slightly out of breath. “We just got through playing a little basketball. Now he’s doing his homework with your mother. Just a worksheet or something.”
“What about emotionally? Like, is he upset?” Jake asked.
“Naw, he’s been eating oatmeal cookies, helping your mother make dinner and playing ball. He didn’t look happy about homework, but once your mother told him Wyatt and Will were coming over for dinner, he ran for his backpack. He’s doing great.”
Eva clasped a hand against her chest as relief flowed through her. “Thank God.”
Dutch gave her the “told you so” look and went back to tapping on his phone, playing one of those addictive-as-crack games on Facebook.
Jake pocketed his phone. “Feel better?”
“Yeah.” She sighed. The engine swung into the station a few minutes later and they scrambled out, peeling off their gear before doing routine maintenance on the engine. Later Jake and Dutch would wash the truck down, and Eva would inventory the equipment, making sure everything was in place and functional. Being a good department with high ratings meant being prepared and efficient. By the time Eva completed her tasks, it was nearly Charlie’s bedtime.
She called to check on him and Fancy answered on the first ring. “Hey, Eva.”
“Hi. Is Charlie doing okay?”
“Of course. He completed all his homework, ate most of his dinner and brushed his teeth without my asking. He’s a delight and I’m so glad you’re letting him visit.”
“Fancy, I can’t thank you enough.”
“Oh, pish posh. I love having Charlie here. He’s an awesome kid.”
Eva could tell that her brother likely stood right beside Jake’s mother, and no doubt the kid grinned ear to ear to hear himself described in such glowing terms. Charlie needed that. He needed to hear people thought he was awesome…that he was worthy. “Can I talk to him?”
“Here, Charlie, it’s your sister.”
“Hey, Eva. Guess what?”
Eva smiled and propped her socked feet on the ottoman. Jake and Dutch were still messing with the truck, which meant she got the primo spot on the comfy couch and control of the clicker. She pressed the power button. “You ate all your peas.”
“Gross. We didn’t eat peas. I get to sleep in Jake’s room.”
“Oh, cool. Better watch out for his dirty socks. He leaves them all over the station.”
“No, he doesn’t,” Charlie said, his tone reproachful. So here it was, the utter hero worship of Jake. She could relate, though the dirty sock thing was a deterrent.
“He has some cool trophies and stuff. He played basketball, too. His dad said he was a point guard. Do you know what that is?”
“Not really, but I bet you want to try that position, too.”
“Yeah. You have to be a good shooter. I’ve been practicing with the rev.”
The rev?
Jake walked in, plopped down on the couch beside her and reached over to grab the clicker out of her hand.
“Well, that’s good, Charlie. Keep practicing with the rev and you’ll be the best on your team this year.” She shook her head at Jake and held fast to the remote control.
“Please?” he mouthed.
She knew he wanted to watch football, but she was set on watching Dancing with the Stars. It was their normal Monday night struggle, though it was usually solved by whoever got the remote first.
“No,” she said.
“No what?” Charlie asked.
Jake started rubbing her leg, making puppy dog faces. She smacked his hand and shot him a look. Normally, she wouldn’t think twice about him touching her, but that was before she’d stuck her tongue down his throat.
Okay, she hadn’t actually played tonsil hockey with him, but it had gotten close. Dangerously close.
“Never mind, Charlie. I was talking to someone else, who should mind his manners.”
Jake grinned and walked his fingers over her bare thigh toward the remote.
“Are you kidding me?” she squeaked, pushing his hand back.
Jake sobered as he realized what he was doing.
“What’s wrong, Eva?” Charlie asked, sounding concerned.
“Nothing. Jake’s just being a pest.” She glared at Jake but held firm to the remote. She hit a few buttons and the reality dance show popped onto the screen. Jake slapped a hand over his face and flopped back onto the couch. Eva smiled and turned up the volume. “I’ll let you go, little brother. Say your prayers and have a good night.”
“Okay. Mr. Beauchamp—that’s our principal—is going to pick me up in the morning. I get to sit in the backseat with Wyatt. Cool, huh?”
“Very cool. Night, Charlie.”
“Night, Eva.”
She clicked the end button, setting her phone on the table. Then she looked at Jake, who had lifted one part of his hand, peeking out at her. “Don’t even pretend you didn’t try to use your sexual powers to get control of the remote.”
“I didn’t. I swear.”
“Liar,” she said, redirecting her gaze back at the TV, where some nubile starlet pranced with one of the bare-chested dancers.
“Did they work?”
“Not even a little,” she said, tucking a pillow behind her lower back. “I’m watching DWTS. You can see the end of the Cowboys game when I’m done.”
“Are you saying there’s nothing I can do to change your mind about watching this stupid show?”
“Nope.”
“Not even the dishes?”
“Uh-uh.”
“I could write up all your reports for the next week,” he offered, sitting up and focusing his attention on her.
“Not a chance. I live for the fox-trot.”
He snorted. “I could paint your toenails? Pull weeds from your flower bed? Scrub your toilets?”
Eva smiled. “Let’s see. No, no, and still no.”
“Fine,” he grumbled, throwing a toss pillow onto the recliner Dutch usually sat in.
“Where is Dutch, anyway?”
“He and Hank went to check a hydrant.”
“We’re here
alone?” Eva asked, sudden pricklies dancing in her tummy.
At that Jake’s mouth twitched. “Yeah, so maybe I should rephrase some of those things I can do for you.”
“Don’t,” she said, inching away from him. She didn’t trust herself to be on the couch with a flirty, determined Jake. They’d vowed to forget about the kisses, but she knew that tossing out the vow would be as easy as snapping her fingers.
“I’m not doing anything,” he said, feigning innocence but leering at her like a horny frat boy.
“Yes, you are. Just yesterday we said we wouldn’t do this.”
“I’m not doing anything. I’m suggesting doing things.”
“You’re horrible,” she said.
“And you’re sexy,” he said. “So what are we going to do about that?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JAKE KNEW HE was playing with fire, sitting beside Eva, teasing her about what they’d vowed never to mention again, but he couldn’t help himself.
She looked so damn adorable in her gym shorts, tennis socks and navy department T-shirt stretched tight over her no doubt magnificent breasts. Shit fire, he wanted to see those breasts. Cradle them, taste them, roll her nipples between his teeth.
Yeah, he’d been thinking about what he’d do to her ever since she’d lifted herself onto her toes and kissed him outside the church just over a week ago.
He’d promised he wouldn’t, but he couldn’t stop himself.
“We’re not doing anything about anything,” Eva said, holding up a finger. “You promised, and you’re a man of your word. Remember the complications? Think about that. We work together.”
“But what about the pleasure?” he countered. “Pleasure has a way of making complications small. Almost the size of a BB.”
Jake traced a finger along the length of her thigh. Her skin was gorgeous. Not a flaw on her. And she was soft as angel’s wings, or something equally downy.
He heard her intake of breath, felt the triumph surge in his blood. Eva wanted him. No doubt about that. But could he use her desire against her?
What would that make him?
A creep? A man whose word meant nothing?
He curled his fist. Then he scooted across the couch, putting distance between them.
Eva glanced at him. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“No, what?”
He pushed a hand through his hair. “You’re right. We said—I said—that we wouldn’t play with fire, so I won’t.”
“Play with fire? Is that a joke?”
“Oh, because we’re firefighters? Or because you don’t understand how much I want to drag you into my lap, kiss you until you lose any concept of reason and then find out just how close I came to guessing your bra size. 34D?”
Eva’s mouth gaped a bit and then she swallowed. “Uh, 36DD.”
“Hell,” he breathed, looking away…at the fridge. At the flyer one of the guys from another shift had taped to it, advertising a band playing at the Rocking J Saloon in Gonzales. Anything to get his mind off the fact Eva’s breasts would overflow his hands…that they’d be perfect to bury his face between, inhaling the spicy complexity that was his Eva.
No. Not his Eva.
Just Eva.
Eva dropped her feet and rose. “Uh, what do you think we should do for dinner? Dutch said he’d grill chicken but since he’s out…maybe an omelet? Or we could defrost a pizza?”
Jake sat there a second, trying to trample the desire that had sunk its teeth into him. “How about pancakes?”
“Pancakes?” Eva didn’t turn around but instead started clearing out the dishwasher. She needed something to do, to keep herself busy.
“I can make my grandmother’s recipe. It’s a Burnsides classic with a secret ingredient.”
“Do we have bacon? ’Cause I can’t eat my pancakes without bacon.”
“Yeah.” He rose and went to the pantry and started gathering all the dry ingredients, including the cinnamon and nutmeg his grammy always used in her pancakes. “So you want to be my sous chef?”
“No.”
“Come on, Eva. If you don’t want me to kiss you, you have to at least distract me.”
“Who said I didn’t want you to kiss me?” she said, propping a hand on her hip.
“Um, you did. Remember? And you were right. We can’t dabble in attraction.”
He set the flour and sugar on the granite counter he and the guys had installed several years ago and turned to get the eggs from the refrigerator. He set everything out and then glanced over at Eva since she’d remained silent on his last point. She stood, hip propped against the kitchen island, watching him with an indescribable expression.
“What?”
She twisted her lips. “Thing is, I want you to kiss me. I want you to do really dirty things to me. Like, bad.”
His body ignited. “But…we can’t.”
“No, we can’t, and that almost makes me want it more. It’s like setting a fifth of whiskey in front of an alcoholic and telling him not to touch it. I feel like I have the shakes and all I want to do is have one little taste. I mean, is that so wrong? Just a little bit?”
Jake closed his eyes because he couldn’t stand the pleading within the depths of her eyes. He opened them and lifted the mixing bowl, his hands literally shaking. “Jesus, Eva. Don’t. I don’t have the willpower, baby.”
“Did I mention the fact that when you call me baby it makes me want to slide out of my new Victoria’s Secret panties? That it makes me want to lick your stomach and—”
At the sound of the engine pulling in, Eva broke off. Jake glanced over and it looked as if the spell had been broken. Her face flooded with color, and she shook her head as if she couldn’t believe the words she’d uttered had made it past her filter. “Oh, my God. What is wrong with me? What did I just do?”
“You didn’t do anything. Just words,” he said, rifling through the drawer beside him for the measuring cups. “Not that I didn’t want to do something, baby.”
“Yo, what’s up?” Dutch asked, bursting into the room. After hanging his hat on the hooks by the door, he bumbled in, knocking his knee against the coffee table, nearly spilling the diet soda Eva had left there.
“Just making dinner,” Jake said, giving Eva a nod that said to snap out of it.
“What are we having?” Dutch said, rubbing the belly that hung over his regulation belt.
“Well, as soon as you get the bacon started, we’ll have pancakes and bacon,” Jake said.
“Why me?” Dutch asked, pointing at Eva. “She’s standing right there.”
“What, because I’m a woman?”
Dutch rolled his eyes and laughed. “Well, y’all wanted to bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan.”
Eva threw a dish towel at Dutch, who caught it with a hoot of laughter.
Jake didn’t like Dutch making those kinds of jokes about Eva, but he knew she didn’t like him fighting her battles. She’d said as much a few weeks after she’d started the job. But at least Eva looked back to normal now.
Damn it, he shouldn’t have invited the temptation back in, but then again, who was he kidding? It hadn’t gone away. His need to taste Eva clung to him like a sweet, exotic perfume he couldn’t wash off.
It was only a matter of time.
Unless he could figure out a way to stop the desire pumping through his body. The only alternative he could figure was to start things up with Kate again or leave town. The latter sounded better to him, but he had nowhere to go. Wanting to do Eva wasn’t reason enough to vacate his life. Maybe Eva would take care of snipping the attraction they had in half—maybe she’d keep going out with Jamison.
The thought of Eva kissing Jamison made him want to vomit.
Cold goo ran down his wrist, and he looked down to see he’d crushed the egg in his hand and hadn’t even noticed.
Dutch tossed him the towel Eva had thrown at him seconds ago and plopped the package of bacon onto the counter.
“Hey, at least it’s not egg on your face, Beauchamp.”
Jake slung the crushed egg into the sink. “Not this time, Dutch. Not this time.”
*
EVA SET THE sock-it-to-me cake on the counter of Clint and Murphy Cochran’s kitchen before taking out the disposable plates from the cabinet. No longer living with feminine influence meant the two men existed on frozen dinners, disposable dishes and a housekeeper who came weekly. So Eva dropped by occasionally and brought them something homemade…from PattyAnn’s.
“Coffee, Eva?” Clint asked, rolling into the kitchen and arching an eyebrow.
“Sure.”
“Can I have coffee, too, Eva?” Charlie asked.
“Absolutely not. It will stunt your growth.” She found a knife and started slicing the cake.
“Jake said it would put hair on my chest,” Charlie said.
“He would,” she said, wishing to hell the subject of Jake hadn’t been broached. She’d barely survived the last shift with him, especially when she’d snuck out to get some water to take her birth control pill with and found Jake leaning against the counter clad only in his pajama pants, drinking milk out of the carton. In the light of day, Jake was a man to contend with, but in the low light of the kitchen with his sculpted bare chest in sharp relief, he was exquisite. From the tips of his feet to the strong column of his throat moving as he snuck the milk, he was a study in masculine grace. Eva had backed up, unwilling to create intimacy with him again. Mostly because she wasn’t so sure she could have kept her panties on this time. Considering the way Dutch snored, she was certain they wouldn’t have had to worry about an audience.
So she’d dry-swallowed her pill, washing it down with a scoop of water from the bathroom faucet. When she came out, Jake was back in bed.
The next day she and Jake had pretended everything was normal, and once she was off her shift, she had plenty to keep her busy with Charlie.
The following day had sped by, and Eva found that being a mother to a near seven-year-old boy was a tough job. It was a struggle to get homework completed, because Charlie was behind in his reading, and the new math program made no sense to her whatsoever. He still had nightmares and wet the bed almost every night, and getting him to eat whole grain bread was akin to asking him to eat dirt. And then there were the socks. Unmatched socks littered her floor. She’d already started a lost sock basket.
