“I mean... No. Only if he’s single.”
“So when you were single, you’d never pass up an opportunity like that, no matter how bad an idea it was?” Jake could see the “Oh, shit!” warning flashing brightly behind Kevin’s eyes now. Good.
“No. No! That’s not what I meant. I just meant that two pretty women who are both respectable and completely datable invited you out for a drink and I think you should join them because you’ve been single for a while, and Annabelle and I think...” He paused to draw a breath, but then seemed to run out of thoughts.
“It’s none of your business. I told Annabelle the same.”
“All right,” Kevin responded with a shrug. When he exhaled, he deflated a little. “But you still need to work on your game.”
“I don’t have a game.”
“No, you definitely do not.”
Jake sighed. “Anyway, as I said, I’m gonna go tuck myself into bed.”
“Watch a little Matlock?” Kevin countered, apparently recovered from his close call with his future father-in-law. “You’re only forty-six, you know. Prime of your life.”
Jake threw an affectionate punch at Kevin’s shoulder. Affectionate enough that the younger man stumbled back two steps. “Remember that.”
The truth was he was heading home to go for a long run, but he probably would be in bed before Lauren and Sophie made it home.
Prime or not, he couldn’t quite handle four days on anymore. Not without collapsing at 9:00 p.m., anyway. But even if he’d been fully rested and dying for a beer, he wouldn’t have headed to the Crooked R tonight.
First of all, Lauren hadn’t been the one to ask; Sophie had. And Lauren had looked horrified at the suggestion. But better horrified than excited, because if she’d smiled at him, if she’d raised her hand from her breasts to his shoulder and teased him about going to bed early... Jesus. He probably would’ve met them there. And then what?
Jake pulled his keys from his pocket and headed for his truck. When he slipped on his sunglasses, he felt a little safer. He wished he’d been wearing them earlier. He’d never seen Lauren dressed like that. Her tight black dress cut lower than he’d expected, showing off the pale skin of her full breasts. Her mouth looking plumper than ever and glossy pink.
He’d noticed her mouth before, of course. How could he not? And her bold blue eyes and strong nose. And he’d definitely noticed her breasts. But now that she wanted them noticed... Hell, he was a lost cause. And she was still his friend’s wife.
“Ex-wife,” he said aloud.
They’d all known each other. Not that they’d had dinner every week or gone on vacations together, but they’d socialized once or twice a year, and the fact that they’d known each other as couples... The idea of dating Lauren just felt wrong. As if that would mean they’d been doing something wrong the whole time.
Better to just let it go.
Five minutes into explaining to his brain that her breasts weren’t really as enticing as they looked, Jake heard a squawk from his radio. A vehicle fire near the airport. Sounded pretty harmless and the guys at the station were closer than he was. Despite his hope for a distraction tonight, Jake drove on. He’d let the guys handle this one.
But as he was pulling into his driveway a few minutes later, an update came over the radio clarifying that the vehicle on fire wasn’t a car. It was a fuel tanker. Jake turned around, hit the lights and headed back toward town. There was steady traffic, but nothing like the weekend, so he made pretty good time until he got to town, and then he skirted around the town square and back out onto the highway.
Black smoke rose in the distance, and he saw the flash of the engine’s lights before he got anywhere near the actual fire.
Their second company engine roared up from behind, and Jake let them pass with a wave. The guys with the gear needed to get there more than Jake did, but his hands itched with the need to be in the thick of things. He didn’t have to wait long. Slipping his car behind the engine, he trailed it for the last mile as cars parted to let it through. They were always slightly more eager to get out of the way for a shiny red twenty-ton truck than his pickup.
As soon as they stopped, he knew he’d done the right thing in coming. He jumped out and raced toward his lieutenant, noting which men were on the hose and which were scrambling to extract the passenger from the overturned truck. Highway patrol worked to get the closest cars turned around and out of danger, though there was no help for the car whose hood was crushed beneath the back end of the tanker. But for a hundred yards on either side of the truck, the road was cleared of everyone except fire personnel.
“Car driver and passenger are out,” his lieutenant said quickly. Jake noted the open ambulance doors and the stunned face of the woman inside it. “A little banged up, but nothing bad so far. The driver of the truck is out and fine, but his passenger is wedged inside and unresponsive.”
“Foam truck?”
“En route.”
Jake’s eyes flew over the scene again, noting the gas leaking onto the roadway, the flames dancing off it, the hose keeping water between the flames and the body of the tanker and, most important, his men working inside the cab of the truck, trying to stabilize the passenger before pulling her out through the broken windshield.
He registered that the firefighter deepest inside the truck was Kevin. And in that moment, Jake saw the fuel that sneaked past the column of directed water and started working its way toward the cab. Flames licked over it, as if it were crouching low and stalking its prey.
“Get her out!” Jake shouted, as he broke from the huddle and rushed toward the cab. “Everyone clear now.”
Kevin glanced up, met Jake’s eyes and gave a quick nod, before abandoning his efforts to stabilize her and easing her free of the wreckage. If there weren’t the threat of an explosion, the woman would have been carefully loaded onto a spine board. But when faced with roasting alive, they’d have to risk loss of limb or paralysis. The cervical collar Kevin had already put in place would have to do.
The rescue efforts sped up now as the men outside wedged a spreader between the pavement and the overturned truck’s door. As Jake nearly dived through the open windshield to help, he saw the reason for the holdup. Her leg was pinned under debris.
“Hurry,” Jake said simply, and Kevin nodded before throwing all his weight against a crowbar.
Jake pulled back out to eye that rogue stream of fuel. “McCurdy!” he called to the closest guy working the hose, then pointed. McCurdy set his mouth and cut the spray for a moment before aiming it closer to the truck. Jake knew the calculations going through the man’s head. He didn’t want to wet the cab yet, not while they were trying to free someone. And he didn’t want to push the fuel closer to the truck.
Jake ducked back in to see the progress inside. The spreader was working, creating a space, but the woman’s twisted leg was caught just below the knee.
“Almost there,” Kevin said calmly.
“Kev. We’re in trouble.”
“Then you should back up. I’ve got this.”
“Captain!” McCurdy shouted from outside.
“We’re about to get wet,” Jake said. “She might have to lose the leg.”
Kevin shook his head. “Not yet, Pops.” The calm in his voice told Jake that helping him get the woman out was the only option at this point, so Jake just cursed and eased closer.
“Come on, then, dammit.” The smell of fuel filled the cab as he grabbed the crowbar and heaved, while Kevin worked on the woman’s leg.
“Cap!” McCurdy shouted, then, “Heads up!” Water suddenly pounded the back of the cab, the sound exploding around them as spray began to rain down.
“You about ready now, Kevin?” Jake shouted over the noise.
“Just about.”
Jake gave one last shove on the bar, and then Kevin said, “There,” and started easing the woman’s knee up. Her foot caught again.
Despite the storm of water raining over
them, gas fumes stung his nose and Jake said, “Force it,” just as a whoosh rolled over the back of the truck. Heat touched his calf as he and Kevin got their hands under the woman’s arms and pushed her out the windshield. Other hands grabbed her as Kevin tried to ease her foot from the mangled metal, but it still caught sickeningly as they forced her free. Blood pumped from her ankle as Jake grabbed the stiff arm of Kevin’s coat and hauled him toward the windshield, as well. “Go, dammit!”
“Yeah, yeah.” As soon as the woman was pulled free, Kevin vaulted out, then reached back and half dragged Jake out, too. The stench of melting upholstery swelled around them until they got to their feet and hauled ass for the waiting line of emergency vehicles. The woman was already on a stretcher and being slipped into an ambulance. More hoses moved in.
“You’re smoking, Pops.”
“No shit,” Jake said, reaching down to brush at the thick canvas of his work pants.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Kevin ignored that and called a paramedic over before shoving Jake down onto the bumper of a truck. “I’m fine,” Jake said again, but he gave in and rolled up the cuff of his pants before one of those bastards got itchy and cut it off. “Nothing big.”
And it wasn’t. A second-degree burn covering a few inches of leg. “Shit,” he said, pretending it was only disappointment that his pants were charred and not a bark of pain as the paramedic cleaned the burn.
“You should be more careful,” Kevin said. “I don’t have a scratch.”
“Jesus.” Jake had to bite back a laugh. He should probably discipline Kevin. Cite him for disobeying orders, but damn if that wasn’t what this job was about sometimes. And it was Jake’s own fault for jumping into a flaming truck with zero protective gear. He was the one who deserved to be written up.
While the paramedic wrapped his leg, Jake watched as his men kept the flames down and waited for foam.
He let his head fall back against the truck and sighed. He’d have to get his affection for Kevin under control. Kevin had the right to do his job the same way any of the other firefighters did. Jake would have to review his own reactions tonight and decide if he’d have had the same responses to any of his other men.
On the other hand...Kevin was safe and so was Annabelle’s heart. So everything had turned out fine.
Kevin slapped his shoulder. “Thanks, Pops. You deserve a beer. In fact, I’ll buy you one.”
“No, thanks,” Jake said immediately, but he didn’t feel quite the same conviction he had earlier. A beer sounded damn good now. Adrenaline still rushed through his veins and the idea of seeing Lauren in her little black dress and heels, that full mouth wide as she laughed, her eyes bright with happiness... Yeah. Damn. He’d love to see that.
An hour later, all the reports filed, Jake headed home again. His adrenaline rush had long since faded, but that image of Lauren was stuck in his brain. He normally felt tired after that kind of energy subsided, but this time he felt a little angry.
Why shouldn’t he go out? Why shouldn’t he see Lauren that way? She was a beautiful woman, and he was alive, dammit.
He shook that thought off, refusing to examine it. It felt too large inside him, too significant. But that low anger remained, even as he let himself into the house and hit the shower. Even as he toweled off and dried his hair. Annabelle was out. She was probably at Kevin’s apartment, waiting for him to come home so they could spend the evening together.
Jake walked out of the bathroom and stopped to stare at his bed. The same bed he’d slept in for over twenty years. It needed a new mattress. Badly. Ruth had been trying to talk him into getting a new one for years. Then she’d gotten sick. Then she’d been gone. He wouldn’t have dreamed of replacing it after that.
But tonight he didn’t want to get in it. He stared at the bed, at the oak posters and unmade sheets and warm comforter and crumpled pillows, and told himself to do what he always did. Make a microwave meal. Have a cold beer. Go to sleep and try not to dream and start again tomorrow.
But the sun was barely setting and the world still moved outside. The world still moved. It always did.
No matter who died or how lives were changed, life moved on. For the first time, Jake honestly wanted to move on, too.
CHAPTER THREE
LAUREN WAS HAVING a great time. It didn’t hurt that she was slightly tipsy. It also didn’t hurt that Sophie was offering hilarious commentary about the available mating options.
Lauren was losing her nervous edge and starting to get into it. “Oh, he’s pretty,” she said, poking Sophie’s shoulder to draw her attention. “That guy by the jukebox.”
Sophie’s eyes slid across the room. “He’s pretty, all right. So pretty he’s terrible in bed.”
“You’ve slept with him?”
“No, I can just tell.”
“What?”
Sophie nodded in the face of Lauren’s incredulity. “Look at that smile. Those dimples. See how cute he thinks he looks. He was the cutest guy in his high school, and he never had to do anything to get laid except show up and wait. I promise you he knows nothing about cunnilingus.”
Shocked, Lauren looked him up and down. The pretty boy noticed and shot her a wink. Oh, God, Sophie was right.
Sophie nodded sagely. “What you need is someone who’s just coming into his prime. Maybe he was skinny and nerdy in high school, but now he’s twenty-five and really into river rafting and his muscles have filled out. He’s spent a lot of time thinking about—”
“No.” Lauren cut her off. “Twenty-five? I can’t do that, Sophie. No way. Has a twenty-five-year-old even seen stretch marks? Or breasts that have actually fulfilled their function? No, this is not happening.”
“They’re breasts, Lauren! Men like them. All of them. Keep the lights low and let him play with them. Instant happiness.”
Lauren forgot her fears and laughed so hard she snorted. “I can’t believe the words that come out of that cute little face.”
“This little face buys me a lot of leeway. Nobody suspects a thing.”
A rumbling voice cut off Lauren’s laugh. “Hello, ladies.”
Lauren gulped and her gaze rose to the man at her side. And it kept rising.
Sophie offered a cheerful hello, but Lauren couldn’t do more than stare. Jesus, he was big. And so young. Probably only a few years older than Lauren’s own son. Sweat prickled her brow at the thought.
She couldn’t do this.
She tried to calm herself down. She wasn’t actually doing anything. It was a bar. No different from a party, really, and if she were introduced to this young man at a party, she’d be perfectly capable of having a conversation. A conversation with...
“I’m sorry,” Lauren croaked, then cleared her throat. “What did you say your name was?”
He smiled, and he looked so young in that moment that Lauren relaxed. She wasn’t taking this boy home. “I’m Gerard,” he said.
Which was when she noticed his French accent.
Eyes widening in horror, she looked toward Sophie, who offered a wide grin and nodded.
Lauren shook her head and sprang to her feet, nearly knocking over the bar stool. “A pleasure to meet you. Could you excuse me for a moment, Gerard?”
She felt Sophie’s hand brush her arm, but Lauren hurried toward the bathroom, clutching her purse so tightly that she could barely feel her fingers when she reached for the door and pushed into the quiet. Letting the door close behind her, she leaned against it and closed her eyes, fully aware that she was now hiding in a saloon bathroom. She wasn’t even ashamed. She needed a moment. Needed to catch her breath.
She’d been dating for seven years now, but she knew she’d never really been invested in it. She’d never been hopeful. A requisite one man every year—or two—just to tell herself she was staying in the game. Three dates if he wasn’t awful, then a decision about whether she’d sleep with him or not, calculated on mathematics she couldn’t fully exp
lain to herself.
But this felt different. Now she wanted things. She was actually tempted by that too-young man even when she didn’t want to be. Her body was trying to override her mind. Her dating choices had never been based on this kind of lust and need. Never on this urge to have a man inside her, to be filled and used and satisfied.
She opened her eyes and looked in the mirror above the sink. There was nothing wrong with it, really. It was just so new that it scared her. The sharp lust that overtook her at strange hours. The fantasies she spun as she touched herself, of animal sex, raw fucking, using a man’s body to get what she wanted.
And in her fantasies, she was never self-conscious or doubtful. She was turned on and hungry and taking what she needed.
She stared into her own eyes, the same eyes she’d always had, even if they had a few more wrinkles around them. She’d earned those lines. She shouldn’t be so worried about them or any of the rest of her parts.
Maybe what she needed was a too-young Frenchman. Maybe not. But what she didn’t need to feel was too old to be worthy of mutual pleasure. Even if she needed to turn the lights off, that was fine. It could be all scents and sounds and touch and taste.
Yes. Her body thrummed to life at the thought of being in the pitch dark, a hot body over hers, her hands clutching a back that was smooth and slick with sweat. Her heart sped at the thought, and then it multiplied, splitting into smaller hearts that lodged in her throat and wrists and between her legs.
Lauren got out her lipstick and stroked more bright color over her mouth. Then she set her shoulders and smiled. She might not do it tonight, and she might not do it with that French boy, but she was going to get laid, and soon, because she was forty-three years old and she damn well needed it.
Chin high, Lauren stepped out of the bathroom and moved toward the table with a new swing in her step. She didn’t have anything to worry about. She knew what she wanted.
The big French guy had leaned close to Sophie, but he glanced up to smile at Lauren as she worked her way across the room. He wasn’t going to leave this to chance. He’d flirt with both of them, apparently, and hope one of them took the bait. Or both of them.
Flirting with Disaster & Fanning the Flames Page 27
