Rekindled Ember

by Sara Arden

  “You make it sound like a singles ad.”

  “Kind of. Have a little fun with it. It’s only for one night. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “Being a first responder, you know better than to ask that question.”

  “Just be honest, then.”

  “This is going to end poorly,” McCade said.

  “No, it’s not. It’s going to raise money for a good cause and everyone is going to have a good time.”

  “If you say so. Have you given any more thought to taking the test?”

  “Not really. You’re not going anywhere.”

  “I might. This auction thing might do me in. Then where with the Seven be?”

  Royce cackled. “For an old hardass, you sure are being dramatic.”

  “No, seriously. What if something happened to me? You’re already my right hand. Let’s get the paperwork done.”

  If he took the test for lieutenant, it was possible he wouldn’t get to stay at the Seven. The Nine out in the county had been without an LT for a long time. He didn’t want to chance it.

  It wasn’t as if it was far away, but to Royce, it seemed like the world.

  “You talk to my dad about this?”

  “Nah, boy. This is your decision.”

  Royce inhaled deeply. “I’ll give it some more thought.”

  “Don’t wait too long. Finnegan wants to take the test, too.”

  He and Noah had talked about it. There was no drama among the Seven. “Yeah, I know. He’d be a good choice. He’s great at what he does and he’d deserve it.”

  “Bah. Noah is good, but he’s not you, Royce.”

  “Thanks for that.”

  “I’m not blowing smoke up your butt, kid.”

  “Why this sudden urgency? Are you planning on retiring?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. I want the option. Might go live on the beach like a bum for the rest of my days. I bought a condo in Puerto Vallarta. Might be nice to spend some time there.”

  “I’m afraid we can’t allow that. You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself.”

  “Yes, I would. I’d drink tequila, go fishing, and bake myself in the sun.”

  It sounded like this was more than just blue-skying for the LT. “Like I said, I’ll think about it.”

  “Don’t think too long.”

  “When was that ever a problem?” Royce asked.

  McCade mumbled something else about the worksheet Erin had given him and hung up without so much as a goodbye, but that was McCade.

  Yeah, change was coming one way or another. He supposed he could be the hand guiding the boat or he could just fling himself to the waves and see where they tossed him.

  There was a certain freedom to letting things happen around him. Then, if they went sour, he didn’t have to blame himself.

  Royce knew, though, to get what he really wanted, he had to ask for it. He had to chase it, he had to steer the boat to the rough water for the treasures that lay beyond.

  He only hoped he didn’t crash on the rocks instead.

  3

  Livie checked her makeup in the mirror for the hundredth time since she’d put it on. Her first instinct was to go wash it off. It had been a mistake to put on even mascara and lipstick.

  This wasn’t a date with Royce Cole.

  It was Sunday dinner with his grandmother.

  She and Ben had been to Grammie Rose’s before. Ben had spent a lot of time in that house as a child and Grammie Rose had practically been his grandmother, too.

  A cold wash of guilt slithered down her back. As close as Ben had been with Grammie, Livie hadn’t spoken to her in some time. She should’ve.

  It had been too painful.

  Then it had been too long.

  Now, here she was. Feeling awkward about going to dinner. She knew Royce was only trying to make sure she got out and didn’t spend too much time in her own head.

  But she knew what dinner at Grammie’s had meant for most of the female population in Ember Lake.

  Dinner at Grammie’s was a girlfriend milestone.

  Hayden Cole was marrying the only girl he’d taken to Sunday dinner as an adult.

  She sighed. For a moment, she let herself imagine again what it would’ve been like if she’d said yes to Royce that day he’d asked her out. If she hadn’t been afraid it was some kind of trick.

  Would they have been the high school sweethearts that had gotten married? Would they have had children?

  Would it have been Sunday dinners, and BBQs?

  Or would he have been the one who’d lost his life on County Road 5?

  Might he still?

  She knew that Royce was more than his job. He was a good man. He’d be a wonderful husband, all except for the job he loved.

  Livie didn’t know why she was even thinking about him that way. He flirted with her, but Royce flirted with everyone. She was his best friend’s widow.

  He loved her, but it was a chaste kind of love.

  Wasn’t it?

  She thought about the way he’d pressed his lips to her cheek and the shiver that had gone through her. The way it had felt like it was going to be a different kind of kiss.

  The way she wanted it to be a different kind of kiss.

  She had to stop thinking about him that way. It wasn’t fair to either one of them. She was just lonely, right? She didn’t have feelings for Royce.

  Livie couldn’t allow that.

  Like she’d told Erin, loving a hero wasn’t all it was cracked up to be and Royce Cole, he was all hero.

  But it occurred to her that she’d already fallen down the rabbit hole. They weren’t anything more than friends, and if something happened to him, it would shred her.

  She wouldn’t ever have to think about that again if she sold the bar and moved away. At least, that was the lie she told herself.

  “What are you doing, Liv?” she asked herself in the mirror.

  “Apparently, going to Sunday dinner and talking to yourself,” she answered.

  Why did he have to smell like cupcakes? She’d have been fine if he hadn’t smelled like cupcakes.

  Because you’re my best girl.

  He’d seemed so insulted when she said that had to be because pickings were slim.

  Why was she replaying every interaction over in her head like she was still in high school? She was a grown woman. This was ridiculous.

  So was fantasizing about bidding on him in that bachelor auction and demanding that since she’d paid for him, he was hers to do with as she pleased. And the things she pleased, well, they were of a rather filthy nature.

  She couldn’t stop thinking about it.

  As if she’d have enough money to buy him, anyway. Every woman in Ember Lake would be fighting to buy Royce Cole. He was definitely a catch.

  Still, she kept wondering what would’ve happened if she’d turned her head just a fraction of an inch when he’d bent down to kiss her cheek. What would he have done?

  What did she actually want him to do?

  Fantasy was one thing. Oftentimes, some of the hottest fantasies were better left as they were. Bringing them into reality could be a recipe for disaster.

  She heard the front door open. Royce never knocked. He’d never had to. Not when Ben was alive, and not now.

  “You ready, Livie?”

  “Almost.”

  Ride or die, she supposed. Her face would look worse if she tried to scrub off her makeup now.

  She adjusted the collar on her shirt and blotted her lipstick on a tissue before going downstairs.

  “Grammie gets makeup? She’s lucky.”

  Of course, he’d comment on it. She blushed. She was always blushing around him, lately. If she knew how to turn it off, she would. “What if I said it was for you, not Grammie?”

  Oh shit, why had she said that? Her mouth definitely hadn’t had permission for that one.

  He didn’t even stumble. He took it in stride. “For me? Well, I’d be the lucky one
, then. You look great.”

  “Thanks.” Suddenly, she was all feet and didn’t know what to do with herself. “I feel kind of weird about it, to be honest. I haven’t worn it in ages.”

  “Why weird? If you like it, wear it. If you changed your mind, I’ll wait.”

  Could he be any more perfect?

  Yeah, if he was anything besides a firefighter. She tried not to sigh.

  “No, I’m good. Let’s go.”

  “Good. I especially like it.”

  “Really?” She bit her lip.

  “Really.” The moment hung thick and gravid with possibility.

  She wondered what he’d do if she kissed him. If she rose up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his to see just how much he liked her lipstick.

  “It’s made with real cocoa,” she murmured. It was probably the most inane thing she could’ve said. But it was. Made with real cocoa, that is.

  “Don’t say that too loudly, or everyone is going to be stealing kisses.”

  “Everyone?” Was that breathless voice her own? She sounded so… giggly. So flirty. Completely unlike herself.

  “Everyone.” He’d moved closer to her now, his presence filling up the room in a way she’d never noticed before. It was like he was a flame that devoured all the oxygen and she couldn’t breathe, but she didn’t want to.

  Didn’t need to.

  Her body was hyperaware of his every move, and every bit of space between them.

  Did he feel this, too? She was torn between hoping she wasn’t so pathetic as to be feeling all of this alone, but the sensible part of her that reminded her no good could come from these feelings, it told her it was just as well if he didn’t.

  Yet, as the space between them shrank, that voice, that oh-so sensible reminder of all things sane, she couldn’t hear it anymore. Not over the way her heart pounded. Or the fluttering in her stomach.

  “I told Grammie not to pounce on you. I swore we were just friends. So, if she says anything inappropriate, I’m sorry.”

  The butterflies crashed and died. What had she thought this was? Although, maybe now was the time to ask that question.

  Except, she wasn’t ready for the answer.

  She waved him off. “Grammie Rose is not going to pounce on me, as you put it.”

  “I’ll bet you money.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  “Oh yes. But you’ll have Sophie to protect you.”

  “I’ve missed her,” she said, neatly changing the subject.

  “Have you given any more thought to selling the bar?”

  His question hit her hard. “No. I’m still kind of in shock.”

  “You should probably talk to someone about your tax burden on that money and how best to allocate it depending on your options,” he advised.

  “I will, thank you.” He was still looking out for her. “You’re my best friend, Royce. I love you.” She didn’t know whether she was reminding him, or herself. Maybe both.

  “I love you, too, Liv. Don’t ever forget it.”

  She kept waiting for the tension between them to dissipate, to fade, but it was still there, thick and palpable.

  “I guess we’ve dawdled long enough. I don’t want to be late and earn Grammie’s wrath.”

  “Never that.” He gave her a lopsided grin.

  The ride was short and she was still nervous. He’d said it himself. They were just friends. It was only all the nonsense she’d been spinning in her own head that made this different.

  Sophie greeted her at the door and pulled into a tight hug.

  “I’m so happy you came!”

  “Me too.”

  “You look so pretty.”

  “Me?” Livie demurred. “You’re the ray of sunshine.”

  Sophie grinned and led her inside. Allison was quick to grab her hand. “I’ll be stealing you both, thank you very much.”

  “You’ll like being stolen,” Sophie promised.

  “This is a special pre-dinner ritual just for us girls,” Allison said.

  Livie wrinkled her nose, thinking of her own grandmother’s pre-dinner ritual. “I hope it’s not washing dishes. My grandmother liked to wash dishes she used before sitting down to dinner.”

  Grammie Rose was in the kitchen and wiping her hands on her apron. She’d obviously heard what Livie had said and laughed. “No, child. I embrace the ways of you youngsters. I have a dishwasher. But I also have pie.” She brought out what looked to be a cherry pie and a blueberry pie.

  They pies looked like something out Southern Living or Martha Stewart. “I don’t think I can actually put that in my mouth. It’d be a sin,” Livie said. “Plus, I don’t know how I’d ever choose which to have.”

  “My darling girl,” Grammie Rose said, “You have both.”

  Allison shuffled her into a chair.

  Not a chance. She felt her hips spreading just thinking about the pies. “I don’t know. Then I won’t be fitting into my bridesmaid dress and we can’t have that.”

  “I’m great with a needle and thread, especially if my pie is the culprit.” Grammie sliced two small pieces of each and pushed them toward Livie.

  “I can’t believe that this is actually how you live. You’re like a family on television. Or a commercial.” Livie picked up the fork Sophie had given her.

  “We have our faults and our flaws just like everyone else.” Allison took her own pieces, and then added a second cherry. “I do love your pie, Mama.”

  Well, when in Rome… Who was she to argue with pie? Livie took a bite. The crust was like this flakey, buttery lace. “This is what hooked you, wasn’t it, Sophie? Grammie’s pie.”

  Sophie shoveled another bite in her mouth. “It was Grammie’s pie and her fried chicken. Can’t forget that.”

  “Mmm. Fried chicken.” Livie remembered Royce saying she’d bid on him just to get that picnic. He might not have been wrong.

  “Actually, what hooked me was more than falling in love with Hayden. It was falling in love with Mom, Grammie, Bill.” She gave her a pointed look. “And even Royce. Family.”

  “I don’t even know what that feels like,” Livie confessed. Except she kind of did. She knew it because she saw it here. She felt it here. Her eyes watered, stupid things. “Wow, didn’t mean to get all down in the mouth at the Sunday Dinner Pie Ritual.”

  “That’s okay, sweetie. That’s kind of what it’s for. The pie is there to make it easier, but this is where we connect with each other. Where we keep building bonds of family,” Sophie said. “I think it’s a wonderful tradition and when I have my own daughters, I’ll be glad that I have this for them.”

  Daughters. Livie had allowed herself to imagine that future once. She’d wanted a little girl with Ben’s eyes and her hair and…

  “Speaking of that, you know I’m not getting any younger,” Allison teased.

  “Hush,” Grammie Rose said. “I didn’t bother you and Bill like that.”

  “I seem to recall one Christmas that you asked for a grandson. It was the only thing on your list.” Allison took a big bite of pie.

  “Well, when you’ve been so blessed as I have, there comes a point when you can’t ask for anything else,” Grammie Rose smiled indulgently.

  Livie wondered if she’d lived a life like Grammie Rose’s what else she’d ask for out of life.

  And she knew.

  Not to spend the rest of it alone.

  But she wasn’t alone, was she? She had her daughter, her grandchildren… Everyone else that they’d added to their family.

  “Really? So what’s on your list this year? Are you coming to the Bahamas with Bill and I?” Allison asked.

  “Lands no, child.” She was still looking like the cat that ate the proverbial canary.

  “Then what is it, Grammie Rose? How can we make you happy?” Sophie asked.

  “I’d love for my grandsons to have a double wedding. After all, none of us are getting any younger.”

  Livie choked on th
e bite of pie in her mouth.

  Allison eyed her while she spluttered. “Do you need the Heimlich? Shake your head yes or no.”

  She shook her head vehemently no, but Sophie pounded on her back anyway.

  “Go down the wrong pipe?” Sophie asked her.

  “It wasn’t the pie, I’m thinking. It’s the wedding that went down the wrong pipe,” Grammie Rose cackled.

  “Royce and I are just friends,” she managed.

  “Uh huh. That’s what he tells me, but I know my grandson.” Grammie patted her shoulder. “He loves you. You love him. You might as well just accept it. Really, wouldn’t a Christmas wedding be nice? You and Sophie in your dresses…”

  “As good as your pie is and even the fried chicken, that’s not a good enough reason to marry someone,” Livie said, discounting her feelings.

  “Yes, it is. At least, mine is.” Grammie handed her a cup of milk. “But the best reason is because you love each other.”

  “I don’t mean any offense to anyone here, but I can’t love another hero. I won’t let myself.”

  “Good thing it’s not up to you, then, isn’t it?” Grammie said gently. “You’ll find the heart wants what it wants and we don’t get much say.”

  “You’ve got that right,” Allison said. “I really didn’t want to love Bill. Actually, when I realized I was in love with him, I told Mama that I thought it was like finding out your favorite candy was made out of used cat litter.”

  Grammie nodded. “That’s exactly what she said.”

  “Let’s not push,” Sophie said. “I know I felt super overwhelmed.”

  Allison nodded.

  Sophie was right. She’d started to feel a little bit ambushed and trapped until Sophie pulled them back.

  “Instead of seeing this like a trap, see it for the family that wants desperately for you to be part of it,” Allison said.

  “Don’t make me cry,” Livie said.

  That was her weakness. Her Achilles Heel. Where they could slice her the deepest and cripple her without even trying.

  She wanted family. She wanted everything she’d get with Royce, except the possibility she’d be made a widow twice by the job.

  Allison squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry, honey. You know you’re part of our family already. Everyone at the Lucky Seven is. Not because you’re Ben’s widow, but because you’re Livie.”