by Marie Harte
Reggie looked sad. “Well, it was nice knowing you.” Pause. “Dumbass.”
“Hey, I’m trying to be responsible and do the station proud. It’s called public re-la-tions,” Tex said slowly.
Brad sighed. “First of all, the minute she sees you, she’s going to refuse to work with you. And second, you’re just going to get your ass handed to you from Ed, because you no doubt failed to tell him you already knew Bree.”
“No, no.” Tex lowered his voice when a few from his shift passed by them. “That’s not it.”
Wash shot him a suspicious look and kept on walking.
Tex murmured, “Come on, guys, you know I had to make my move.”
“No. Just, no.” Reggie shook his head.
“She’s gotta know I was straight with her before. This one, she’s special.”
“Um, her name is Bree, not ‘this one.’” Mack rolled his eyes. “Honestly, Tex, if you don’t even know her name, this is bound to fail.”
“Fuck you.”
“Oh, big words.” Mack scoffed. “If you were thinking with Tex Sr. instead of Tex Jr., you’d know this is only going to end badly.”
Tex knew that, but still. It was Bree Gilchrist. He wasn’t too proud to admit to himself he had more than a crush on the woman. Even if she did hate his guts. “But she’s…” How to explain what he didn’t rightly know?
“Her dad won’t let her do it. Not with you.” Did Brad have that right.
“I don’t think she mentioned me to her dad, or hell, to anyone. She was pretty serious about not dating firefighters. And now we know why.”
Reggie sighed. “Only you, Tex, would be so stupid as to try to make time with a woman who hates your guts and has connections. But hey, all for love, right?” Tex heard the bitterness Reggie couldn’t hide.
Mack cringed.
“I’ll bet twenty on my boy.” Reggie wrapped an arm around Tex’s shoulders and squeezed before letting go. Guy had a grip like the jaws of death.
Mack shook his head. “I can’t take that bet—the money’s too easy. Sorry, Tex. But your history says you blow this.”
“Thanks a lot.” Tex frowned.
Brad held up a hand. “Now hold on. Our Texan has some skills. He just has a messed up idea of how relationships end.”
“How’s that?” Tex asked.
“The fact that you think they all have to end,” Brad stated plainly.
“Good point.” Mack nodded. “My parents have been happily married for over twenty years. Happy endings aren’t just for back alley massage parlors.”
Reggie stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his lips toying with a smile. “Mack has a point…about back alleys.”
“Well, all of my relationships have ended. I can’t help that I have a lot of ex-girlfriends.” Tex didn’t like feeling defensive. “Not like you losers are all that much better. Brad, you just fixed things with Avery. You don’t have much room to talk.”
Reggie smirked. “He’s got you there.”
Brad frowned. “Well, maybe I was a little messed up for a while. But you guys helped me see I was wrong.” He smiled through his teeth. “Now I can return the favor.”
Mack outright laughed. “This should be good.”
“Whatever.” Tex didn’t have a lot of time to waste. “I have to go home and clean up, then meet the battalion chief at noon. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck,” Brad, Mack, and Reggie sang at the same time.
Of course, Reggie just had to end it with, “Dumbass.”
***
Monday at noon, Bree chewed her thumbnail, wishing she’d trimmed it this morning instead of forgetting on her way to a late-morning appointment. Fortunately, her client had gotten stuck in traffic, so no one had been left waiting. But now she had a nail that would drive her nuts while having to deal with her overprotective father and the poor schmuck he’d strong-armed into watching over her while she photographed the new fire station and, with any luck, some raging fires that didn’t hurt anyone.
Her father sat behind his desk, a tough-looking older man who’d worked his way up from a probie to becoming one of Seattle’s battalion chiefs. She was proud of him and loved him dearly. She just wished he’d act a little less smothering in his protectiveness.
“How’s your Monday going?” he asked her, leaning back in his chair, his hands locked behind his neck. Still large and imposing, John Gilchrist ran four miles a day, lifted weights religiously, and contended that managing firefighters must be a lot like herding cats that had claws.
“I was running late this morning, but so was my client, so it ended up okay. No problem there. My fingernail is bothering me. My assistant is way too happy to be off for the next month while I do this project. I don’t even think she’ll miss me. I’m hungry because I haven’t had anything to eat yet. And when I called to talk to Charlie earlier, Melissa cut in.” She crossed her eyes. “I sense more drama on the home front, Chief.”
Her dad sighed. “Yeah. I love your sister, but she’s not easy to deal with.”
“Gee, that’s funny coming from you.” How many times had she been scolded to get along with Melissa, her stepsister from hell?
He glared. She glared back.
Bree’s mother had passed away when she was just eleven. Two years later, her father had married a wonderful woman who’d always treated Bree with warmth and compassion. Bree loved Charlotte, whom she called Charlie. Unfortunately, Charlie came with baggage—a daughter Bree’s age who had major issues with insecurity and jealousy. For a brief time, Bree and Melissa had been like twins, spending all their time together and sharing everything.
The love Bree had for her sister had been wonderful, fulfilling, and all too brief. Sadly, as Melissa had matured, her issues had only grown worse. And the love the two had once held withered, now a bitter thing of envy and loathing, and on Bree’s part, wistful regret.
That her father loved his stepdaughter regardless didn’t surprise her. John Gilchrist had a huge heart, and he lived to help others. He also had a weak spot for women, treating them far better than many of them deserved. Not that her dad was sexist; far from it. He’d championed her since birth to be whatever she wanted to be. But he couldn’t be firm or honest with Melissa, even when she needed it.
“I take it you’re doing whatever you can to hide out from the Melissa drama hour.” She didn’t need him to answer. “Poor Charlie.”
He ran a hand over his face. “We’re not here to talk about my life. We’re here to talk about this project. And again, for the record, I had nothing to do with you being selected to photograph our city’s firefighters.” He could say what he wanted, but she was sure her connection to one of the city’s battalion chiefs hadn’t hurt.
John beamed at her. “They chose you on your own merit to win the City Art Grant. That portfolio you submitted to the grant council, who let the chief look it over, was amazing. He’s excited that you’re going to profile our city’s firefighting men and women.”
She felt warm all over. “I’m glad you’re happy about this.”
“Are you kidding?” He sat up straight and pointed at her. “You are an amazing artist. But that comes with some pressure. You can’t mess this up, Bree.”
She groaned. “I know, I know. I need to wrap up my last assignment so I can devote all my time to this project.” She glanced at her phone for the time. “Are you sure I need to meet this liaison person now? We can just start up together on Wednesday.”
“I want to see how he interacts with you here. Today. With me.”
“You mean you want to intimidate the poor guy.” Interesting her father had said “he” in reference to her guide. She knew her father would prefer she be guided by a woman. He hadn’t been firm with rules while she was growing up, but he’d been adamant that she should never date a fireman.
Her dad had a real burr under his saddle about sexed-up firefighters. Then again, he’d been one until he’d met and married her mother. Since he rarely put his foot down on any subject, she’d been happy enough to accommodate him…until that sexy, obnoxious, dishonest Tex had tried to seduce her to the dark side.
“Intimidate is a strong word,” her dad said. “I just want to talk to him.”
“Have I met this guy before?” She knew a few of the firefighters in the fifth battalion, but most were older and worked alongside her dad.
Her father glanced at his computer. “His name is Roger McGovern. I don’t know him personally, but his reputation is stellar. He’s part of a good group of firefighters under Ed O’Brien.”
“Oh, I miss seeing Ed.”
“Me too. We’re going to grab a beer one of these days. Anyway, Ed said McGovern is your guy. I trust you won’t have a problem with him.”
“So why this meeting?”
Her father put on his stern face. Had she not been his daughter, she’d have been wary. He looked ready to head into battle. “Because I want to make sure I won’t have a problem with him.”
She groaned. “Dad, I told you. I swear I won’t poach your people for my prurient interests.” She felt proud about that line, having worked on it for years. “I don’t want to get touchy-feely with your peeps.”
Her father cringed. “Please. No more.”
“I’m not dating right now anyway. I have too much work to focus on.”
“Good. Men are assholes.”
She chuckled. “You being the exception, of course.”
“Of course.”
A knock at the door, then the admin secretary popped her head in to say, “Sir, your appointment is here.”
He smiled. “Thank you. Show him in, please.”
Bree stared in horror as Tex the Almost Ex walked through the door as if he had no idea what awaited him. He wore jeans and a Seattle FD T-shirt, not an official uniform, so he must have been off duty. To her bemusement, he carried a cowboy hat in hand.
He stood before her father’s desk behind the chair next to her and introduced himself, not glancing her way. “Sir, I’m Roger McGovern, here about the photographer assignment.” His Texas drawl was evident, as was his charm when he smiled at her dad and added, “But please, call me Tex. I only get called Roger when my momma is yellin’ at me about somethin’ one of my brothers did but blamed me for.”
Her father smiled back.
Damn it. Don’t fall for his charm, Dad! It’s like quicksand that sucks you in until you’re dead and gone. And seriously pissed off.
“Tex, please have a seat. This is the photographer you’ll be working with, Bree Gilchrist.” Her father cleared his throat and in a deeper voice added, “My daughter.”
“Ma’am.” Tex shook her hand briefly, all professionalism, before sitting. “It’s a pleasure.”
Her eyes narrowed, sensing his amusement. Oh, so we’re going to play the we-don’t-know-each-other game. Fine. She spared a glance at her dad, who watched her closely, then turned a pleasant face on the jerk. “Tex, is it?”
Tex nodded.
“I’m Bree. I know you’ve been told what to expect, but we’re here to make sure this is a good fit. The City Art Grant is a really big deal.”
Tex nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I know. Good coverage is a big deal to all of us, especially at the new station, and we want to do the city—and your dad—proud. I won’t screw it up. I swear.”
She wanted to slap him, having been burned twice before. “Great.” Her grin felt brittle. “Then let me make something perfectly clear. We do this my way. I won’t be patronized or worked around. I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to take pictures. Period. You got that?”
“Yes, ma’am.” A hard look settled over his features, making him look more like a western gunslinger than a firefighter. “But make no mistake, if there’s a dangerous situation, and you want to get closer to snap some shots, it ain’t happening. Your safety is my first concern.”
She frowned. “Now hold on. I’m in charge.”
“Of your work, yes. But when it comes to keeping you fire-free, I’m in charge. And there’s no question about that.”
Surprised he’d be so firm with her in front of her father, she turned to her dad to catch his reaction.
John Gilchrist nodded, and she could see the approval in his eyes. “Sounds perfect, Tex. If you need anything at all, you let me know. And I mean contact me. I don’t need you running this up the chain. When it comes to this project, I’m overseeing it.”
“Yes, sir.” Tex paused. “But I’ll make sure to keep my lieutenant in the loop if it’s all the same to you. He likes to know what I know.”
Her dad grinned. “Yes, best not to keep Ed out of the loop. He’s the vindictive type.”
Tex laughed. “You should see what he… Um, I mean, yes, sir.”
Bree didn’t like how chummy Tex and her father seemed, all of a sudden. “Is that it, Chief?” she asked, her sarcasm evident. “I have work to get back to.” She stood.
Her father frowned. “Sorry to keep you. Tex, nice meeting you.”
Tex stood and reached out to the grab the hand her father offered. “You too, sir.” He turned to Bree and held his hand out. “Ma’am.”
“Call me Bree, damn it.” She shook his hand, hating that frisson of warmth that filled her at the contact, before pulling away and watching him leave.
“What’s going on?” her father asked, his voice a little too quiet.
“Nothing. I can just tell this is one of those types you’re always warning me about.”
“Really?” His eyes narrowed. “I thought Tex seemed reasonable. What did I miss?”
Him ditching me twice. But no way she’d tell her father that. “Nothing. Maybe it’s that Southern accent. And all the sir-ing and ma’aming he was doing.”
Her father relaxed and chuckled. “Reminds me of my visit to Houston a few years ago. He even had the hat to go with the accent.” He shrugged. “If you’re that bothered, I can assign someone else, I suppose.”
Yes. And bring my personal issues into my professional life—something I swore I’d never do. “No. I’ve got this. If I have a problem with him, I’ll handle it.”
“You’ll tell me, and I’ll handle it,” her dad insisted.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m twenty-seven, Dad. I can deal with my own problems. Not that good old boy Roger McGovern is a problem.” Roger. Ha. He was no more a Roger than she was a Guinevere—the name she’d secretly longed for after watching one too many Robin Hood movies as a kid. Nope. Bree was no damsel in distress, fought over by rival hunks. She made her own way in the world and didn’t need a man for anything more than moving furniture or having sex. And even that she usually did better alone than with a partner.
And I’m thinking about sex with my dad right there.
Her cheeks burned. “I’ve got to go, Dad. A quick lunch then back to finishing up some portrait sessions for Carrie.” Her best friend forever, Carrie could always be counted on for a sarcastic quip or laugh. Something Bree needed just now.
“Tell her I said hello.” He stood and crossed the room to hug her. “I’ll be checking in, so if Tex makes a wrong move, you let me know.”
“I will.” She kissed him on the cheek and left, quickly exiting the building, a million things to do on her mind.
And ran into Tex McGovern leaning against a wall, waiting for her while wearing that sexy-as-sin cowboy hat and looking like a poster child for male strippers everywhere. Could his jeans be any tighter?
“I can explain,” he said in a rush as she pushed past him toward her car down the street. “Come on, Bree. Hold on.”
When he caught her sleeve, she stopped and glared at him. “Get off.”
He let go and held his hands up in surrender.
“I volunteered for this gig of yours.”
She watched him, hating that every time she saw him, she found him even more attractive than the last time. Then again, deviant personalities came in all shapes and sizes. The Ted Bundy special on Netflix was proof of that. “Did you know you’d be helping me and not some random photographer?”
He nodded. “Yep. Look, the first time we met, my ex-girlfriend sabotaged me. The second time we met, it was over a fight in a bar.”
She waited. “And? Is this a prelude to you standing me up this coming Wednesday too?”
He shifted on his feet. “Look, on our last date, I was on my way to you but stopped to help when a house caught fire. I lost my phone on the property, and it exploded before I could get it back. I swear.” He handed her a folded piece of paper from his back pocket. “Proof. Look, those are the emails between me and the phone company. I ain’t lyin’.” His accent seemed to grow thicker when he was agitated.
She humored him, reading the conversation between Tex and a superpolite phone company employee who didn’t help so much as try to placate a crazy man. “You used the words ‘plumb pissed-off’ in your email?” She had to work not to smile. “Interesting.”
He groaned. “I’m telling you, I wasn’t lying. It’s like I’m not meant to be with you or something.” He sounded miserable. “Every time I try to go out with you, something bad happens. So, when this opportunity to help you came up, I jumped on it. And no, I didn’t tell anyone I knew you. I just wanted…”
“What? Another chance to see if you could get in my pants?”
He glared at her, and the menace he exuded turned her on. Oh, great. Tex played the bad boy perfectly. Another way he played to her type. Best not to ever let him know.
“I’m done trying to convince you I’m a nice guy. Proof is in the doing.” He crossed his arms over his chest, the corded muscle impossible to miss, especially in that clingy T-shirt.
Bree sighed. “Look, I know I came off as a little bitchy in there.”
“A little?”
She scowled. “But my dad has no idea we ever went out. And we’re going to keep it that way. Me, because I don’t want to disappoint him. You, because you want to keep your job.” Ah, that had him looking worried. Good. “This working together is a professional thing, one I can’t afford to screw up. I forgive you for before, but we go on as associates. Business colleagues. Nothing else. Got it?”
