Fire at Twilight: The Firefighters of Darling Bay 1

by Lila Ashe

  The pathetic-looking puppy was in the process of gnawing on the top of Tox’s boot. It appeared to be a fruitless task—her teeth couldn’t puncture the leather, but she was shining them with the copious amount of spit coming from her mouth. For a moment Grace pictured herself with the dog. Cuddling in bed … It would be nice to have a dog keeping her warm at night.

  But it wouldn’t be fair when she was working long hours at the clinic, and she could never bring a dog inside, not while she had clients with extreme allergies. The animal shouldn’t even be inside now.

  Tox bent forward. “No need, Pastor. I’m headed that way myself.”

  “You are?”

  “I had to go grab a couple of things at the hardware store.”

  Mike’s Hardware was two doors down from the city pound.

  “You’re on your motorcycle,” Grace pointed out.

  He shrugged. “I’ll walk.”

  Grace eyed the way the dog pushed herself into Tox’s arms, burying her nose under his chin. Good grief, just minutes ago, she’d been the one drooling all over his body.

  This was not how today was supposed to go at all.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind, son?”

  “Nope,” Tox shook his head. “I’ll take her now. Grace, are we done for the day?”

  Samantha’s giggle rose from outside, so loud it sounded like someone was tickling her.

  “Yes,” said Grace. “You were a good patient.”

  “Stop it!” screamed Sam. “You’re killing me.”

  Without acknowledging the sound, Grace shut the window with a bang. “Thanks for coming.” She cleared her throat. “For coming in.”

  Tox snorted. Even the pastor gave a small smile.

  Grace shook her head and glanced at the schedule on her phone. Maybe if she appeared very busy …

  “Will you go out with me?” said Tox. The puppy in his arms licked his chin.

  Grace looked behind her. “Are you talking to me?”

  “Well, I don’t think it’s me. On that note,” said Pastor Jacobs, “I’ll take my leave.”

  “I’ll walk you out, Pastor. Grace, I just wanted to know if tomorrow night you’d go grab a bite with me. I’ll come get you here. Say six?”

  She looked down at the face of her phone, as if she could find something there to say. She was so surprised she could only think of one thing, only one word that might be appropriate.

  “Yes.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The dog was a runt. A sick, tiny runt. Tox should have felt sad looking into the dog’s watery eyes as he held her. He should have felt sad for the life the puppy’d had so far, and even more sadness for how she’d probably never make it, not going to a place like the Darling Bay Pound, but all he could think about was Grace’s mouth on his, the warm solid softness of her as she’d fallen down on top of him. Yeah, he might have pulled her a little bit, but a bit of encouraging wasn’t what got her stretched out full-length along his body.

  Tox held the puppy against his chest and gave her a scratch on her belly. He smiled as she wriggled herself to an upside-down position in his arms.

  Grace had said yes.

  He passed Mrs. Cross and nodded to her, ignoring her dropped mouth as she registered that the thing he cradled was a puppy. A little girl holding her brother’s hand in front of Skip’s noticed the same thing and made a sound that could have shattered crystal.

  He passed Josie’s Cinnamon Rolls, and his mouth watered. Josie was a flipping genius with sugar and flour. From inside the yellow-walled shop, she waved out at him. She was pretty. He’d dated her for a short time last year, till she realized he was more into scoring overtime at work than scoring with her. It just hadn’t been a match, no matter how cute she was.

  He stroked the puppy’s tiny head with his thumb. But what was really cute? The warm honeyed sound Grace got in her voice after she’d been kissing him—almost a purring noise. That was cute. No, that was hot. Tox felt the summer sun breaking through the fog, hitting the back of his leather jacket. It would be too warm to wear it soon.

  Or was that just him overheating, thinking of Grace?

  Dang. She was a two-alarm fire, and he wasn’t planning on dumping water on that fire. He wanted to watch her blaze, and he wanted to burn along with her.

  Inside the pound, John Skinner gave him a nod as he entered. “Got a dog for me?” He sounded displeased, and his long nose wrinkled the slightest bit. Tox had known Skinner since they were kids, and even back then he wouldn’t have given him a job dealing with animals. Skinner was tall and painfully thin, with a perpetual frown on his face. He had a thin mustache that made him look as if he were about to tie a girl to the railroad tracks. The funny thing was that Tox knew he was a fighter—he really tried to save the animals under his care. He hated putting them down, and once Tox had seen him at the bar after a rough shift. After three martinis (two too many for a guy his size), he’d started weeping into his gin about the dog he’d had to put to sleep that day.

  “Give it over,” said Skinner, gesturing to the counter.

  All Tox had to do was let the dog go. Just fill out the form. Walk out the door.

  Why then, was he having such a hard time doing it? He felt stupid for even admitting it to himself, but when he looked down, he could see Grace in this darn dog’s eyes. Was it that maple color? Was it that soft, welcoming look of trust? He hadn’t been looked at like that for a long time.

  Now two girls in one day had looked at him that way.

  “You gonna keep her or what?” Skinner crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Because I don’t got all day. I got two sick dogs in the back that might not make it. They’ll probably give this one what they have, even though doc’s got ‘em on all the antibiotics already.”

  Tox jerked his chin. “You talk like you don’t care.”

  Skinner said nothing, keeping his arms crossed.

  “But you do.”

  “Whatever. Don’t bust my balls on this. You leaving the dog or taking her yourself?”

  Tox hesitated. “Don’t you always say it’s the puppies you can adopt out, no problem?”

  Skinner raised one eyebrow so high it almost got lost in his combover. “Have you looked at that mangey little thing? She’s two breaths away from dead.”

  Tox looked down. The puppy was shaking like it was caught in a rainstorm. She was matted fur and ribcage. Drool trailed from her mouth, and her eyes ran so that it looked like she was crying. And still that little tail gave a soft thump-thump-thump against the leather of his jacket.

  “She’s a strong little pup,” said Tox. The dog took the finger he gave her and chewed on it. “See? Friendly.”

  “She’s so hungry she’s trying to eat your flesh, that’s all.” Skinner held out his hands. “Come on, Tox.”

  The pup stopped chewing on his finger and looked up at him. She gave a soft whine and tilted her head to the side. She was ugly. Little. Sick. And Tox was totally in love with her.

  “Well, heck.”

  “Looks like you have a dog, my friend.”

  Tox didn’t say anything, just held the puppy tight and barreled out the door he’d just come in.

  He wondered if the dog would mind a short ride on a motorcycle. He held her up to his face and received another lick.

  Seemed like she was pretty daring. She’d probably like it.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “A date? Tomorrow night?”

  “Well, at least you finally stopped laughing.”

  Samantha rocked back on her heels and set down the African violet she was repotting on Grace’s back porch. “Where are you going?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What time?”

  “That I don’t know, either.” Grace brushed dark soil off her hands and looked with satisfaction at the geranium she was cutting back. The sharp, acrid scent pleased her nose. It smelled like dusty summer to her. Their mother had loved geraniums. “And I don’t know why I’m goi
ng out with him at all. His name is Tox, for Pete’s sake. I swore after the last guy—”

  “The last three guys.”

  “—the last three guys that I would only date someone healthy. Someone with his head on straight and his stuff together.”

  Samantha waved a dirty hand. “Whatever. The real question is: what are you going to wear? I have a couple college application clients tomorrow night. If I do your makeup in the morning, will you promise not to touch it all day?”

  Grace felt a flutter of nerves in her stomach. “Oh, crap.”

  Samantha finished tamping more soil around the root ball. “Okay, we’d better get started. Pass me that watering can. And guarantee me you won’t wear those shoes.”

  Looking down at her favorite black Dansko clogs, Grace frowned. “These are cute.”

  “They’re birth control.”

  Shocked, Grace said, “Well, good. It’s not like I’m going to need any other kind.”

  Finishing with the violet, Samantha said, “Look at all this mint! It’s crazypants! Let’s make virgin mojitos!”

  “I’ll pass,” said Grace.

  Samantha pulled off her gloves and stood. “Put down the trowel.”

  “I still have three more petunias to put in.”

  “Screw the petunias. You can’t kill those things. Come inside, have a fake drink with me, and we’ll decide what you’re wearing.”

  “But …”

  “You need to loosen up a little, and you might as well start doing that tonight.” Samantha went inside, the screen door slamming behind her.

  “Wait a minute.” Grace followed Sam inside. “What do you mean?”

  Sam gave a light laugh as she rinsed the mint she’d picked. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Just that you could stand to let go of the reins a little bit.”

  Grace felt a flash of heat. That’s exactly what Gary, her last boyfriend, had said. Right before he’d dumped her to take the trip they’d planned together, absconding with her money which she could only assume he blew on the horses.

  Her sister snapped her fingers in front of her. “Earth to Grace. You haven’t heard a word I’ve been saying, have you? Drink this.” She pressed a cold glass into Grace’s hand. “Now, to my room. I have just the right thing for you to wear.”

  “I’m not looking like a hooch. You can’t make me.”

  Samantha said, “I’m just going to take it as a compliment that you think I could come close to making you look like one.”

  “And no heels!” The drink did actually taste amazing. Light and sweet, tart and not too minty. “How did you make this?”

  “I stared into it until the sin in my soul filled the glass. Why? You like it?”

  Grace said. “It’s not bad. Bring on the carnal wear.”

  Samantha pulled Grace into the spare bedroom. “Eye shadow! Perfume! Low-cut top! This is what I’ve been waiting for ever since I moved in!”

  “Lucky me,” Grace said, bumping Sam with her shoulder.

  But in fact, she meant it.

  <>

  The next day at work, Grace had a hard time hiding her nerves. As Scrug Watson hung up his green Deere baseball cap on her hat rack, she’d dropped a box of clean needles with a clatter that made everyone in her treatment room jump. Scrug said, “Whatchoo nervous about, girl?”

  “Accident, sorry,” she’d said lightly, picking them up. Within ten minutes she’d stubbed her toe twice and knocked over a glass of water on her desk, soaking her day planner. She told herself to breathe, but somehow taking in air and holding it made her feel even more jumpy.

  By five thirty, she was out of the practice, walking home. She stumbled twice. Stupid Danskos.

  By quarter to six, she was home.

  Ten minutes later, she was in her bathroom, checking her makeup.

  She wouldn’t be nervous.

  It would be stupid to be nervous.

  Jeez, she was nervous. She felt like a jumpy cat balancing on top of a cement mixer.

  The mascara her sister had insisted on putting on her this morning was still black and thick. Just like Samantha had promised, it hadn’t smudged, but then again, Grace had been too terrified to touch her eyes all day. She’d flat-out refused the eye shadow after she’d read the ingredients to her sister. Sodium laurel sulfate and propylene glycol? Who knew what those did, being absorbed into the skin all day?

  Now, Grace put on the deep cherry lipstick her sister had insisted she wear. She took a step back and smoothed her hair. The black V-neck was deep, but it hadn’t made her feel embarrassed today as she’d leaned over patients, so it wasn’t too low. The dark red straight skirt made her calves look good, she could admit that. The black heels? At least four inches high? She still hated them. Why women felt they had to … But she’d promised Sam, and she would do this for her.

  That part of the date, anyway. Samantha had also said that she should try hard to get into trouble before the end of the night.

  Grace had punched her sister in the shoulder. “I’m not putting out.”

  “Who says that anymore? Putting out. Maybe you should stay inside with your knitting and your herbal tea.”

  Stung, Grace said, “I like knitting. And more tea is always good.”

  Samantha had just laughed and shoved two condoms into Grace’s purse. Grace hadn’t asked her why she had them. She didn’t want to know.

  The front doorbell rang.

  Grace took a deep breath and tried very hard not to wobble on her way through the office and into the hallway.

  Tox stood on the porch, bigger and brawnier than she’d remembered. He could probably lift a car if he had to, and someone in his profession might have to on occasion.

  He’d been looking over his shoulder, but turned as the door opened.

  “Oh, crap,” Tox said as his face fell. “What are you wearing?”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  As first date opening lines went, it was right up there with “What was your name again?” and “We’re going Dutch, right?”

  Tox’s mouth seemed full of concrete. He had to find something better to say, fast—before her feelings got hurt. Well, it was probably too late for that.

  Grace looked confused and then chagrined. She tugged at the neckline of her shirt as if she wanted to cover up the skin of her chest and neck. He hadn’t meant that. She looked amazing. The outfit did all sorts of things for her deliciously hot body, and dang, did he like looking at her.

  She was just going to ruin the date if she wore that, that was all.

  “My sister’s clothes,” Grace said, stepping forward onto the porch, closing the door firmly behind her. “I told her it was a bad idea.”

  “Are you kidding?” Tox almost stuttered, tripping over the words. “No! I don’t want you to think—well, of course you’d think …”

  “That you think I look terrible?” She put her shoulders back, and her next words were strong. “Well, I think I look nice.” She blinked hard, as if she were working on believing it herself.

  Tox stepped forward and put his hands on her shoulders. “You look incredible.”

  “I … what? You just said …”

  “You look hotter than the devil’s kitchen. I can’t believe how good you look.” Didn’t she know that?

  “Oh.” She bit her bottom lip. Chewed on it, really. Then she blushed. Yeah, Tox liked it when she did that. In fact, he wanted her to do that all the time. Everywhere. He wondered what she looked like she was naked and blushing. How far did that red spread?

  “But you do have to change.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “We’re doing something that will require the use of sneakers. And old clothes.”

  An expression of relief crossed her face. “Oh, thank goodness.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  “Hang on, I’ll be right back.”

  Tox waited on the porch. Grace had a knack for decorating, he noticed. Not like the designers on HGTV that Coin watched at the station
, not all fancy, but both her practice in the old Victorian and this little house had the same feeling, as if they had grown up around her, naturally. There had to be fifty potted plants, flowers blooming and draping, all colors. Comfortable old wooden furniture—a swing and three chairs—invited him to sit. He imagined her entertaining out here, seated with her bare feet pulled up underneath her, hair loose, pouring glasses of iced tea for friends.

  For a brief second, he wondered if he could ever be someone who sat out here with her. He imagined her bare feet resting in his lap.

  Grace came outside, dressed in a blue zippered sweatshirt, jeans, and blue canvas shoes. Her hair, so carefully styled before, was pulled back into a ponytail. She’d rubbed off the dark lipstick, but she still wore the prettily smudged eye makeup. She looked ready to paint a house or play paintball. How was it possible that she looked even hotter now, dressed like this?

  “What are we doing?” she asked. Her face was open. Happy. Expectant.

  Tox didn’t want to let her down. “I’m not sure if you have an online profile, but I think it’s required by law that if you do, you have to say you like long walks on the beach. So I thought we’d do that.” He’d meant it as funny and tongue-in-cheek. Now that he’d said it out loud, it just kind of sounded stupid. So he added the clincher. “With my new dog.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  He’d kept the dog!

  Grace squeaked—she knew she did—when Tox led her to the dog crate leashed into the back of a black truck.

  “Where’s your motorcycle?”

  “Turns out she doesn’t like riding much. That was one exciting ride home yesterday, I’ll tell you that much.”

  Grace grinned and climbed up on the back tire so she could reach through the crate’s bars to give the wee pup a scratch. “So you own all the big boy toys? The motorcycle, the big truck … Do you have the boat, too?”

  “Does a jetski count?”

  Raising one eyebrow at him, Grace decided to let him off the hook for the water sports safety lecture. Besides, the dog was taking all her attention. “Can she ride in the cab with us?”