by Nikki Duncan
Logan stiffened, but didn’t move. Delancey closed her eyes a second. When she opened them again they were filled with regret. “Go away, Andy.”
“You have the sparklers,” Andy said.
She threw the bag over Logan’s shoulder, keeping her gaze on his. “Now you can go away.”
“Thanks. And don’t think this is going unnoticed.”
“Leave now,” she ordered, staring into Logan’s eyes.
Her cousin, a man she’d told countless stories about, went back to the party.
He’d have kissed her if Andy hadn’t shown up. He still wanted to. Hell, he craved her taste more than he’d craved freedom from the bandages. He could not start something that would only end in goodbye, and as kind as Delancey was there was no way she would stay with a man who couldn’t join her world. She deserved better.
Moving as fast as his body allowed, Logan folded his hands behind his back and edged around her. “Bye, Delancey.”
Happy with how final that sounded—well, semi-pleased anyway—he headed for the front and home. His house held memories of Ashley, but at least he could tell himself they were in the past. The past didn’t hold the power to hurt him anymore. Delancey did.
He didn’t move quickly. Exhausted, like he’d drained himself of every last vestige of energy and strength, the walk home would take twice the time and effort as the trip there. He would manage, because with every step away from the station his body felt more normal. His mind, though, became more conflicted.
Whatever drew him and Delancey together, or had him thinking about her when he shouldn’t, he suspected it would take more than a goodbye to eject her from his life.
Chapter Eleven
Delancey pushed aside the tomato she’d just sliced and moved another one into place. Cooking for the crew was no small task, but she’d gotten a handle on just how much they packed away between calls. She’d also learned their cooking skills left more than a bit to be desired and had struck up a deal that she would cook if they’d clean. The bargain had the added benefit of keeping them from claiming she was in her right spot as a woman in the kitchen.
“Your guy’s story is coming on the news,” Andy announced with more glee than was entirely necessary when he strolled into the kitchen. He picked up the remote and turned on the TV. “I knew you wouldn’t want to miss it.”
“What are you talking about?” The other guys were well-versed in giving her a hard time, but Andy could make a career out of it. He hadn’t let up since catching her with Logan. Not that he’d seen Logan’s face to know with complete certainty who she’d been with. And he hadn’t needed confirmation to know why she hadn’t returned to the party.
“This.” He pointed to the TV when the commercial ended.
“Fire or murder?” a TV reporter said with just the right touch of sincerity. “The truth behind the investigations. Our own Tony Barrows has the story. Tony.”
“Thank you, April.” Tony, the reporter Delancey had worked so hard at avoiding, came on the screen. His happiness as he launched into his story could make Santa’s jovial smile look like depression.
“You may recall that a few months ago our local heroes at the Cedar Pointe Fire Department responded to an office building ablaze with civilians trapped. Working quickly, the firefighters pulled two victims from the fire, a brother and sister. Only the brother survived, suffering major burns to half his body.”
Delancey’s chest compressed, squeezing her heart. “What an ass.”
“He’s only doing his job.”
“By using one person’s death and another’s injuries to get ahead in his career. It would be different if he actually cared about the lives he’s talking about.”
“You act like he’s handing out party favors and calling everyone to a celebration.”
“He would if he thought it would help his ratings.” It pissed her off that the obtuse ass who’d come to the station hadn’t let the story go. That he kept dragging it out every month or so. “Aren’t there any new stories he can report on?”
“You mean something that wouldn’t piss you off?” Andy snatched a slice of tomato, which would normally get him slapped. Delancey was more interested in the news report, despite knowing it would open her up to more jokes from the guys.
“His existence pisses me off.” She waved at the TV. “He doesn’t even pretend that his subject is an upsetting one. There’s not a shred of sympathy on his face, in his tone or in the words he’s chosen.”
“He’s going for ratings.”
And ignoring the human element, which was what made him an ass.
“Recent suspicions have been confirmed.” Tony paused, no doubt for the greatest impact. “The Mathis fire was no accident and is likely connected to another fire. A source in the Dallas Medical Examiner’s office suggests a similarity between the second victim and Ashley Mathis’s death.”
The arson investigation had mentioned a hit to the head. Delancey had wondered, more than a few times, what else he’d discovered. Her desire to honor Logan’s need to heal had kept her from asking if he knew anything.
“Logan Mathis,” Tony said with a smile that had Delancey dicing rather than slicing the tomato, “has refused an interview.” A picture of Logan’s home flashed on the screen. “Sources say he’s home and recovering well from his burns.”
As if it were acceptable to show Logan’s home, with the street numbers, on the evening news, the bastard never missed a beat in his perfectly timed rhetoric.
“Here at Channel 11, we feel bad for Logan. His loss is tragic, but worse, he has to live with the knowledge that his sister’s killer remains unidentified and free on the streets of Cedar Pointe.” A picture of Logan sitting at Ashley’s grave, with Delancey’s Jeep in the background, moved to the center of the screen. “Unless he is the killer.”
Andy pointed at the TV. “Now I’ll agree with you. How did he get that copy approved for broadcast?”
Revolted and enraged that the reported had invaded Logan’s first visit to his sister’s grave, Delancey waved Andy off to hear the rest. Tony didn’t fail to disappoint.
“In my quest for truth I will continue following this still-developing story, though the fire station and inspectors have so far been less than forthcoming with answers.”
“Son of a bitch!” Delancey slammed the knife onto the cutting board. “He can’t say the arsons are connected and then suggest Logan killed his sister in the same report. That implies Logan’s the arsonist, which he can’t be when he’s been in the hospital.” She picked the knife back up to resume her chopping. What was supposed to be sliced tomatoes and avocados for burger toppings would suffice as guacamole. Unless the tomatoes became a sauce.
Jarrett stepped into the kitchen, took one look at Delancey and the knife and then left again. For a man who ran into burning buildings he was a coward when it came to facing upset women.
“I have a comment for you, Tony. You’re a lying bastard who deserves to be flogged in front of that camera you love so well,” Delancey muttered as the knife landed harder and harder against the board.
“Feeling a little violent are we, Gidge? Or just protective?”
“I’ll show you violence.”
“Protective it is.” Andy raised his hands in mock surrender. “Point taken.”
She glared at Andy, hating for the moment that he knew her so well. He may be her favorite family member, but she wasn’t in the mood for his humor. He surprised her when he smiled and spoke with genuine caring. “Logan’s lucky to have you in his corner.”
“What?”
“The person you’ve been seeing, the man I saw you almost kiss at the party, that was Logan.”
“Seeing implies dating. I’m not dating him.”
“Then what is it?”
Delancey wasn’t sure if it bothered her or comforted her that he wasn’t making fun of her. Either way, he was on to her and she wanted to confide the truth. “I went to check on him after the fire. We be
came friends.”
“Maybe you want to be more than a friend?”
She glared, not ready to talk about Logan with Andy or any of the other men she worked with.
“Having feelings for him isn’t a bad thing.” Andy settled on the barstool across from her and began cutting open the avocadoes. “It’s obvious you care for him. You don’t normally get so riled up.”
The admission was easier than she’d have thought possible. “Is it normal to feel so drawn to a victim? Or is it just because he was my first rescue?” She rested a hand on her side where she was burned. “Or is it shared experience?”
“It could be all of it. We meet people on what could be the worst day of their lives. It’s never easy to put them out of your mind.”
“You do it.” She hadn’t met Andy until after his dad died and his mom moved them back to town. From their first meeting Andy had been one of the happiest, glass-half-full people she’d ever met. Nothing got him down and he was always ready with a joke. He was also rarely serious, like now.
“None of us are fireproof.” Andy looked behind him at the door before looking back. “You know that better than anyone else here.” There was nothing aloof about the Andy sitting across from her at the moment. No, this was the Andy who knew her secrets and had loved her anyway. “Eventually we all respond to a scene that stays in our mind.”
“I might be okay if this one was only in my mind. I tried telling myself it was curiosity and nothing more.”
“Whatever I interrupted last night looked like more than a curiosity. And not just on your side. Test the theory or live with the regret of not knowing.”
“What’s your regret?”
“Living with the regret.” Andy shook his head. “Stop thinking. Act. See what happens.”
Touched by his sweetness and support, Delancey rounded the island and hugged Andy. He wasn’t what she’d call unemotional, but neither was he demonstrative.
He patted her on the shoulder. “Umm. Okay. You can keep cooking now.”
He sounded distinctly Texan when he was emotionally uncomfortable.
Squeezing him tighter, she smiled into his chest. “I love you.”
“Oh, hell,” Ice Man said from the doorway. “Not sure what’s worse, that you’re making this place touchy-feely or that Jarrett was right when he said you would.”
“Is there a debate?” she asked.
“Yeah.” Ice Man nodded. “A firehouse is no place for the touchy-feely shit.”
“Then watch out.” Delancey moved toward Ice Man, spreading her arms wide as she advanced. “You’re next.”
“Like hell I am.” He guarded himself with his arms crossed before him. He made extra sure she took the hint by backing away. “You keep your girly emotions away from me. Call us when dinner’s done.”
She laughed when he turned toward the engine bay. His shaking head and muttered-for-his-own-benefit damn women assured her he wouldn’t ask what she and Andy had been talking about, because asking could mean talking about things like feelings. Most of the men in the house did everything possible to avoid those.
She’d gotten pretty good at avoiding feelings herself. Until Logan.
Each time she was with him, even during the fire, there’d been a charged moment. A moment that woke a yearning she’d almost forgotten. Or hadn’t allowed herself to think about since she’d lost Chad.
Logan made her feel. Andy made her face what she felt. Only she could decide what she really wanted. The safe route, possibly for both her and Logan, would be to end things now and avoid any complications. Safety mattered to a firefighter. Yet, Delancey’s heart enjoyed the taste of adventure and she suspected her greatest adventure, and certainly passion, could be found with Logan.
* * * * *
After finding out Ashley’s fiancé had paid the mortgage for the next several months, Logan had been able to worry less about his debt. He’d tried to say thank you, but his calls went unanswered. Logan took the hint and stopped trying.
Since sitting too long became painful quickly, Logan had dusted off Ashley’s treadmill and outfitted it with a desk. Multitasking his therapy and need to figure out what to do with his life, he walked while searching the web for anything that interested him. The only thing that held his attention for more than five minutes at a time were burn victim forums. He could never bring himself to respond to any of the posts. He’d wanted to a few times, mainly when it was a kid posting, but every time he started he ended up closing the laptop.
That was when his mind went back to Ashley and her killer. He hadn’t fully convinced himself that he hadn’t invented the conversation with Ashley in his mind as a way to explain what had happened. If she’d died for a reason he might handle it better. Doubtful, but maybe.
The more time he spent thinking the less he cared about trying to reclaim their old clients. Math and logic came easily for him; it had been Ashley’s passion. He’d gone into accounting because of loyalty to her. With her gone, he couldn’t get excited about it.
Neither did he wish to get a job that would require going to an office and dealing with people’s inability to look at him without staring or flinching. It wasn’t so much that he minded people judging him. No. Every stare and every flinch reminded him what he looked like and that reminded him what he’d lost. Who he’d lost.
No other possibilities came to mind. Life had failed to introduce him to anything he could feel passionate about. Nothing made him want to take risks.
Delancey.
Her name whispered along his conscious mind, making a lie of his previous thought. He’d risked being seen to see her. He’d certainly been stirred by her nearness.
With no progress made in regards to the file he sought, he got off the treadmill and walked to the kitchen for a glass of water. He’d prefer a Coke and the bliss of the caffeine it offered, but it had been suggested that water was better for his skin than moisture-robbing soft drinks.
The kitchen TV Ashley had always kept on still stayed on. Keeping it that way played into his desire to keep her with him, and to avoid the complete silence that easily shrouded the house.
“Fire or murder?” Logan stopped, clenched one hand into a first, and turned slowly. “The truth behind the investigations. Our own Tony Barrows has the story. Tony.”
“Thank you, April.” Tony, the reporter who’d shown up on his doorstep numerous times and then interviewed neighbors when Logan ignored him, smiled at the camera. Logan’s stomach churned. He unfisted and fisted his hand, unable to stop looking at the train wreck that was his life on the evening news.
“…heroes…Cedar Pointe Fire Department responded to an office building ablaze…trapped.” Logan only caught bits of the report between the beat of his pulse that had turned into a jackhammer in his head.
The reporter continued. “…two victims…a brother and sister…fire was no accident.”
His hands shook his arms, which shook his body and then his legs, leaving Logan no choice but to sit before he fell. He didn’t care what else the reporter said, he only cared that he stopped talking. Then a picture of Logan sitting by Ashley’s grave appeared in the middle of the screen and Logan stopped hearing the reporter’s words.
All he saw was hideousness and grief and a crazy man holding his hand in the air, brushing back the hair of a woman only he could see.
Either his heart swelled or his ribs shrank; whichever it was his chest ached. Tight and trying to hold too much.
Wasps swarmed his brain leaving only one discernable idea: Hate.
But whom did he hate? Tony Barrows? The arsonist? Or did he hate Ashley? She’d kept him in the dark and then she’d left him. She’d broken her promise when she’d been the only person he trusted never to do that.
* * * * *
The doorbell rang, jerking him from sleep. The numbers on the bedside clock blurred but not before he made out a four. He closed his eyes and pulled the covers higher.
The bell rang again. Again he pulled
the covers higher, all but covering his head as if they would block the disturbance.
The bell rang a third time, effectively waking him up and pissing him off. Throwing the covers back, he got out of bed, forgetting for a moment that moving fast when he hadn’t moved in a while was never smart. His screaming muscles reminded him to slow down, but they did nothing to calm his temper.
Logan didn’t bother with the lights as he left his dark bedroom. The bell rang again and then the asshole began knocking.
His teeth were grinding themselves down by the time he got to the door and flipped back the deadbolt. Turning the knob, he yanked and demanded, “What the hell?”
The sun blinded him for a moment, disorienting him.
“Thought you might like some food.” Delancey sailed inside, carrying a bag.
Logan squinted beyond the glare of the sunshine and saw Emily, the neighborhood busybody, heading his way. He closed and locked the door before she could see him or get close enough to worm her way in. “You have something against a person sleeping?”
“Not in the least, but I figured you would be awake since it’s four in the afternoon.”
“Afternoon?” He’d closed all the curtains in the house, blocking out the curiosity of the neighbors and reporters trying to get the interview Barrows couldn’t. “Guess my schedule’s a little off.”
She looked at the closed curtains but didn’t comment on them as she headed to the kitchen and flipped on a light. “You could go back to bed.”
“I thought we said goodbye. Why are you here?” He sounded defeated and pitiful even to his own ears.
“You did. I didn’t.”
Delancey’s voice, when she responded, sounded like a sweet caress against his body. “I like you, Logan.”
His skin tingled and his body heated in response to her words and the way she said them. His dick hardened and there would be no hiding it when she turned to face him. As soon as he got to the kitchen he pulled out a chair and sat. With his arousal hidden from her, he relaxed, but his body still called for the attention of hers.
Delancey put the entire bag in the fridge, not bothering to unpack it, and turned back to him. She walked to him, stopping only when she was close enough for him to feel her heat.
