Rekindled Ember

by Sara Arden

  “But it does matter.”

  “Humor me.”

  She turned to him. “Honestly? If I didn’t have to care about what anyone thought, or the future? I’d tell you to pull over and I’d give you the ride of your life.”

  Her eyes widened and she clamped her hand over her mouth. “I cannot believe I just said that. Oh my God, Royce. Scrub that right out of your ears. I never said it, it didn’t happen.”

  A slow grin spread across his face. She wasn’t immune to this thing between them at all. “Well, sweetheart. It was just what I needed to hear.”

  “No, it wasn’t.” The color on her cheeks bloomed like his Grammie’s roses.

  “I did.” He nodded. “Do you know how stupid I felt thinking this thing between us was one-sided? That’s sad.”

  He was tempted to pull over and park, but she was already regretting her words and he didn’t want her to shut him out when he’d just gotten her to open up.

  “I’m not going to forget you said it. Not in a million years. My ego likes it too much.” He grinned wider, his tone teasing. “But we don’t have to beat a dead horse either.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So, to clarify. Are we talking Kentucky Derby or NASCAR?”

  “Shut up.” She closed her eyes, her cheeks somehow an even brighter red, like a sunburn.

  “Come on. You don’t think it wasn’t hard for me to ask you why I’m not what you want? Really?”

  “Well, no.” She shrugged. “Nothing phases you. You’re… immutable. You’re a mountain. The world flings things at you, storms. Avalanches. You just keep on the way you always have. Strong. Immovable.”

  “I’m not immovable.”

  “What moves you, Royce? What could break you?”

  “You,” he answered honestly.

  “Yet, here you are. Reaching for me anyway.”

  He wanted to say that wasn’t reaching for her, and then he’d pull her to him and kiss her hard. He’d tell her that was reaching for her.

  “Why not? There’s always something that’s going to hurt. Something that’s going to cut. Why not have the good things, too?”

  “Me? I’m a good thing? I just…” She bit her lip. “Me?”

  “Yeah, you. It’s like you don’t know how amazing you are. Stop it.”

  “Amazing? Sophie is amazing. Erin? Amazing. Me? I’m a little mouse.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” He finally gave in and pulled the truck over. “You have to know what you bring to the table. I wish I could say, just listen to me tell you how beautiful you are. How smart. How wonderful, but it doesn’t work that way. You have to see that in yourself before you’ll believe anything out of my mouth.”

  “I do see myself. I don’t dislike me. I just know that I have a small life, okay?”

  “Were you listening at dinner to my dad? What he said about small lives?”

  “It’s funny that he’d say that because he has a big life. He’s a hero.”

  He sighed. “Okay, Liv.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. You can’t help what you feel. What you don’t.” He put the car back into gear and pulled back out on the road. “Where do you want to go?”

  “Home.”

  He knew she’d want to get away from him now and he was ready to give her that space. They drove in silence until he pulled into her driveway.

  “Thanks for today.”

  “Anytime.” He nodded.

  “Royce,” she began.

  “Hey, no apology needed. Like I said. You feel what you feel.”

  “I don’t want to lose our friendship,” she blurted. “God, if that isn’t the most trite thing.”

  “It’s not trite. Our friendship is important to me, too. There’s nothing else without that.”

  “No complaints about the friend zone?” she teased.

  “That friend zone stuff is garbage and makes it sound like friendship is worth nothing. It’s everything.”

  “You’ll still be my friend when I move, right?”

  “I’ll always be your friend, Liv. You’ll won’t get rid of me that easy.”

  She relaxed visibly. “I don’t know, Royce. I guess I thought if I moved, you’d… I mean, even though you said you’d support whatever I wanted to do…” she let it hang.

  “Like my friendship has conditions? That’s not how it’s supposed to work.”

  “Happily Ever After was supposed to work differently too.” She flopped back against the seat. “See? I’m still angry and bitter. I have all of these great things in my life. Great people. Now these great opportunities and all I can focus on is the bad. What I’ve lost.”

  “Maybe you’re not ready to be grateful. That’s okay. You haven’t let yourself grieve.”

  “It comes in waves, you know? Sometimes I’m fine. Other times, I feel so guilty.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I think I’m done grieving for him. I still miss him, but I’m still mad at him, too. I’m grieving the death of the dreams I had, not him.”

  “Then it’s time to dream something else.”

  “I’m afraid.”

  He couldn’t help himself. He reached out to comfort her, to soothe her, but instead, he found himself tipping her chin up and his body leaning toward her.

  Their lips were on a collision course, but of all the raw things he saw in her eyes, he didn’t want this to happen because of pain.

  He needed her to want him for joy.

  So he didn’t kiss her mouth, didn’t surrender to the enormity of the flame between them. Instead, he brushed his lips against the crown of her head.

  “Don’t be afraid, Livie. I’ve got you.”

  She sighed and leaned into him, her fingers wrapping around his biceps. Livie tilted her face up and a kind of polarity took over, dominating his best intentions.

  He could feel the warmth of her breath on his lips and that’s when she fled.

  5

  Livie had played the memory of that moment over in her head about a thousand times. It was so surreal, almost as if it hadn’t happened to her, but to someone else.

  Royce Cole didn’t kiss women like her.

  If she was honest with herself, she wanted him. She wanted him more than she’d ever let herself want anything.

  She fantasized about him, about moments like the one in the truck where the animal need between them was so strong, neither of them stopped to think about the consequences, the what ifs. They only surrendered to the moment.

  Except she knew that was what made him good at what he did, that he made snap decisions based on the outcome he wanted in the long run, not the immediate. No matter how primal. This was a man who could turn off his survival instincts to walk into a flaming building, who made choices in the heat of fight or flight that saved lives. Royce wasn’t one to be swept away by anything.

  She’d swear he’d been about to kiss her, and she’d have let him, damn the consequences.

  What was it like to be kissed by a man like that? Her whole body ached to know.

  The scent of cupcakes had become one of the most erotic things for any of her senses all because of him. He’d laugh at that, if she ever had the courage to confess it.

  Part of her chocked all this up to the vow he’d made Ben. At their wedding, he’d asked Royce for a vow of his own. That he’d take care of her if anything happened to him.

  Almost as if he’d known.

  Royce had been silent for a long moment and she’d thought he’d not wanted to give his promise, but when he’d spoken, it had been beautiful. He’d sworn to love her like she was his own. To always be her family.

  She’d been so touched. That was the day he’d gone from being Ben’s best friend to her friend, too. Royce Cole’s word was gold.

  Was that what this was? Was Royce following through on a promise in the only way he knew how?

  She knew that they had to talk about this. Dissect it down to the smallest, most minute detail.
Disarm it before it exploded.

  If she thought she had to deal with wagging tongues and staring now, what would it be like if she took up with her dead husband’s best friend?

  That was why she had to get out of Ember Lake. She wanted to go somewhere no one knew her name. No one knew her history.

  Except there was no Royce there. No Sophie. No Grammie Rose.

  No Ben’s Place.

  No Widow Dodd.

  Only her mind kept turning back to Royce. To the sacrifice he’d said he was willing to make. A desk job. All so that she’d feel safe.

  She tried to imagine if Ben were still alive. If this was an opportunity he’d even consider for her peace of mind.

  Livie chastised herself. She knew better. He’d never have taken a desk job if they’d wrapped it up and gold and diamonds.

  Of course, she knew that she couldn’t let Royce do that, no matter what that meant for anything either of them were feeling. She knew that loving someone didn’t come with caveats. It was an all or nothing proposition. People weren’t DIY projects. You had to love them as they were, for who they were. Not who they could be.

  She didn’t want to think about love and Royce anymore. It was easier to think about how hot she was for him. To fantasize about one night stands, even though he’d offered her something more. Something better.

  He was too easy to love.

  Loving a hero meant pain. Sacrifice. And loss. She wouldn’t do that again. She couldn’t.

  Although, she could let herself think about what it would be like if they had sex on the bar. That was safer territory, such that there was safe territory when it came to such things.

  She loved his hands. Loved how strong and broad they were. She found comfort in the scrape of the calluses because those were hands that could do anything.

  Livie thought about what they’d feel like on her softest parts all the time.

  They were shooting the calendar today and she’d tried to hide, tried to demure by telling Erin she didn’t want to be in the way, but really, she didn’t want to sit there drooling over Royce.

  Yet, here she was, sitting in her own bar, watching all the guys from the Seven walking around near naked.

  Sophie plopped down in the seat next to her. “Oh, this is fun.”

  “Don’t you feel a little guilty ogling them all? I mean, they’re our friends,” Livie said.

  “Not in the least.” Sophie crossed her legs. “It’s for charity, after all.”

  Erin had come to stand behind them. “Actually, I think it’s kind of fitting. The money is all going to Ember Harbor this year. Use objectification for good.”

  Livie couldn’t argue with that.

  Noah walked out from behind the screen the photogs had set up wearing nothing but bubbles over his important parts.

  “I don’t think you got me the right size. I’m naked,” Noah said with a grin.

  “Yes, you are,” Erin agreed.

  “The bubbles are melting,” he said, conversationally.

  “Uh-huh. That’s why you have to wait until Hayden is done. Stop harassing the assistants with your bubbles. Don’t make me come over there and wrangle you.”

  Noah paused and seemed concerned. “You know, I might like it if you wrangle me.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. Not even a little bit,” Erin answered.

  “A lot.” He winked. “So would you.”

  Erin sighed. “This is why you’re single.”

  “I’m single because I haven’t found the one who can ‘wrangle’ me.” He turned away and flashed them all his very toned, very nice ass as he walked back behind the screen.

  “The view at Ben’s Place has something to offer you don’t get anywhere else,” Sophie began, sounding like a commercial.

  The girls laughed.

  Hayden was up first and they had him wearing his turnout gear, but shirtless. The makeup artist had smeared dirt and oil all over him, so he looked like he’d just come from a fire and stopped at a gym on his way home.

  It was kind of silly, but Sophie was entranced.

  And Livie couldn’t blame her.

  “Look at the camera like you’re looking at your fiancée,” the photographer instructed.

  “Oh, I get to work!” Sophie said, hopping up. “Here, let me help.”

  “I bet his shots sizzle right off the page after Sophie goes over there.” Erin sighed.

  “They’re all going to be really great,” Livie encouraged.

  “The guys are such good sports.”

  “Even Noah?”

  Erin waved her hand. “Especially him. He’s kind of a gem.”

  True to prediction, once Sophie was standing behind the photographer, it seemed like Hayden forgot why he was there and his smolder game was on point.

  Awareness prickled the back of her neck and she looked away from the shoot to see Royce watching her from near the makeshift dressing room.

  His smolder game was on point, too, if she was being honest. Even though she wanted to look away, wanted to hide from everything he’d stirred up inside of her, she smiled at him.

  The easy smile he gave back was a double-edged sword. It both ratcheted the tension up another notch and soothed her. Made her feel safe. It was a strange dichotomy.

  “Maybe we should put Royce in the bubbles instead of Noah?” Erin pondered aloud.

  Livie didn’t know if she could take it, seeing him walking around like that. She’d either have a heart attack or throw him on the ground and do bad things to him in front of everyone. Neither choice appealed.

  “I actually hadn’t decided what we should do with him yet. Oh! I forgot to tell you, we’re including some bonus material with each order. A tourism guide to Ember Lake. I need to get a shot with you and him so I can advertise the bar as promised.”

  “Nope.” She didn’t even have to think about it.

  “Yep. You know why?”

  “Why?” Livie realized she’d just whined the word like a kid who didn’t want to take a nap. Probably because the picture, like the nap, was inevitable.

  “Because, while we’re lucky enough to have a ton of hot firefighters. They don’t all look like the Cole brothers, you know? We could bring in some tourism revenue. More business. For the bar, too. You could keep more of that money and if your tickets are up, you’ll look better for someone trying to get a loan to buy it.”

  She knew Erin was right. No matter how she sliced it, more money was always a good thing. “You’re going to talk about Ben, aren’t you?”

  “If that’s okay? I mean, I’ll let you approve the copy. I don’t want to say anything you’re not comfortable with, but your story is kind of amazing. I like showcasing real life heroes. Real life kindness.”

  “Royce is definitely that.”

  “I didn’t mean Royce. I meant you,” Erin said.

  “What? Me? I’m just a fireman’s widow.” She hated how bitter she sounded. She hated that she labeled herself with that because she was always talking about wanting to be more. How could she if she was the one reminding everyone all of the time?

  “Not at all. Look at everything you’ve done. You’re made of fire and stone, Livie. It’s your story, not just Royce’s face that’s going to bring people to the bar. I’m going to submit this bit to the Star in the city, too.”

  “Let it be known I’m doing this under duress.”

  Erin laughed. “Nope, no duress. I promise it won’t be as painful as it sounds.” She rubbed her shoulder. “Plus, you’ll get to pose with Royce all slicked up and shirtless. Maybe Hayden, too. I’m thinking total goddess pose.” She spread out her hands as if she were already visualizing it. “The guys holding you up above their heads.” She nodded. “I like it.”

  “What if they drop me?”

  “They won’t drop you. You’re a little bit of nothing, as Noah likes to say.”

  “You wouldn’t say the same thing if they were picking you up,” Livie grumbled.

  “You’re right
. I probably wouldn’t.” Her friend grinned. “But listen, this is going to be awesome. We should do it today while I’ve got the photographer here.”

  “What do I wear?”

  “We’ll set the makeup people lose on you. It’ll be fun.”

  “I’m not wearing a bikini.”

  “Of course not. This is about perving on them while being in awe of your story.” Erin smirked. “I know what I’m doing.”

  “Okay…”

  Erin motioned for one of the assistants to come over. “Our Livie agreed to my devious plot!”

  The assistant clapped. “This is going to be fun. Come with me!”

  “I’m not a makeup person, really.” She thought about the mascara and lipstick she’d worn to Sunday dinner, but this seemed like a much bigger undertaking. Probably involved contouring, which she knew she’d never figure out if someone paid her. It was as involved as rocket science when she tried to make heads or tails of it.

  No, correction. Rocket science would be easier because it was math. Math she was good at. Math made sense to her. Coloring on her face with sticks made of wax and pigment, not so much.

  “Oh, don’t worry. It’s mostly so you show up against the backdrop, the lighting. I promise, you’ll look marvelous.”

  “Yes, but will I look like me?”

  “Of course.”

  Livie would admit, she was slightly grateful she was being stolen away before Royce’s shoot, so she didn’t have to see him standing there, shirtless, with those tight jeans unbuttoned just enough to show his oblique.

  She decided as she walked by him, biting her lip, staring at that hard line of muscle instead of his face, that it should have to be registered as a deadly weapon. Because it was killing her.

  “Hey,” he teased. “My face is up here.”

  Her face flamed. “Yeah, I look at that almost every day. This, however,” she found she’d reached out to touch him without thinking it through, “is new.”

  Electric sparks jolted through her at the contact and it seemed he knew it.

  “It’s not new. It’s been there since tenth grade.”

  “With the way you eat those cupcakes, that’s just not fair,” she murmured.

  The intimacy of the touch, right there in front of everyone, should’ve horrified her, but her brain had been reduced to applesauce. She could apologize later.