Charming the Firefighter

by Beth Andrews

  “If you’re not capable of driving and talking,” Leo said, keeping his tone bland, his face expressionless, “I’d be more than happy to switch seats with you.”

  Forrest laughed and shifted into reverse. “Don’t worry. I’m sure she’s in there, peeking out from behind a curtain as we speak, sighing and mooning over that pretty face of yours.”

  Leo couldn’t help but check the house’s front window, hating that Forrest was right about his wanting her to be standing there. Not because Leo’s ego needed stroking.

  But because he wouldn’t have minded seeing her one last time.

  * * *

  ANDREW SAT ALONE at the picnic table, the setting sun warming the top of his head and bare shoulders as he hunched over his plate. The table had been set up on the edge of the yard away from most of the action.

  Exactly why he’d sat there. He needed a few minutes of peace.

  Everywhere he turned, there were more people, the Sapkos’ yard filled with their family, friends and neighbors. He’d done the whole socializing thing, had played basketball with a couple of the guys, then messed around in the swimming pool for an hour.

  He was getting better at it. Bullshitting and joking around with a group, being a part of it. He’d relax, pretend it was no big deal to have people wanting to talk to him, wanting to hang out with him. Then he’d remember all the years he’d spent alone and start worrying he was going to say something stupid.

  Or worse, that they’d all somehow find out he actually liked reading the books assigned in English class. That he’d watched all the Lord of the Rings and Star Wars movies—even the prequels—so many times, he could quote them word for word. That he’d spent the first two years of high school in California as a social outcast.

  That was when he’d duck out of whatever they were doing, take a few minutes to remind himself things had changed. He’d changed. He wasn’t that kid anymore. He wasn’t the dork who’d been too skinny, too awkward and weird to have any friends.

  He’d never be that loser ever again.

  “Hey,” a girl said from behind him, trailing her fingers across his shoulders.

  Whipping around, he about choked on his burger, but managed to swallow the bite in his mouth without coughing and spitting food all over Kennedy Hearst.

  Thank God.

  “Uh...hey.”

  “I’ve been looking for you.”

  His heart pounded. Easy. She doesn’t mean it the way you want her to.

  “You up for a game of Wiffle Ball?” she asked. “We could use you on our team.”

  “Sure.” He sounded squeaky so he cleared his throat. “Yeah. That’d be great.”

  He ducked his head to hide a wince. Great? Jesus, could he get any more lame?

  He started to get up, but she put her hand on his shoulder and swung one long, bare leg over the bench of the picnic table. “Finish your burger,” she said, keeping her hand on his shoulder for a moment while she used him to balance herself before she sat next to him.

  As in, right next to him, so close their thighs touched. Her skin was warm. And incredibly soft. His leg muscles tensed. His throat felt funny, but if he cleared it again, he’d sound like an idiot. Like he had some strange tic. So he sipped his soda, nodded. “Okay.”

  She nudged him with her hip and smiled, giving him a look from under her lashes. “I’ll keep you company.”

  His palms started to sweat and he wiped them down the front of his shorts. “That’d be cool.”

  Cool. Yeah, that was one way to describe having the hottest girl he knew “keeping him company.”

  Act like it’s no big deal, he ordered himself. Do not be a spaz.

  And whatever you do, don’t stare at her boobs.

  Easier said than done when they were there—right there—in a tiny black bikini top.

  A bead of sweat slid down his back. He focused on his burger, ate it, though it no longer tasted like anything. Which sucked since he didn’t often get real hamburgers made of real beef and loaded with extra cheese. His mom would have a fit if she knew this was his second one—and that earlier he’d inhaled three hot dogs, plus as many side dishes as he could pile onto his plate, the cheesier, greasier and fattier the better. Not to mention he was on his third soda. The way his mom viewed soda, you’d think it was crack.

  She was such a freak.

  “God, you are like, so tan,” Kennedy said, dragging the tip of one bright blue nail up his forearm. His skin prickling, he curled his fingers into a fist. “I laid out all summer and look.” She stretched her arm out next to his, which meant she stopped touching him—damn it. “I barely got any color at all. Are you sure you’re not, like, Hispanic?”

  He stared at their arms. Next to him, hers was extremely pale and slender, her wrist delicate. He wanted to link his fingers with hers, feel her palm against his. “Uh...not that I know of. Just some Italian and even a bit of Cherokee.”

  “You are so lucky.”

  Lucky? He’d never thought so before. His DNA was just bits and pieces of genes brought in from people he’d never even met—except for his parents and grandparents, obviously. A body that had betrayed him once, had turned on him and almost killed him.

  But, hey, if she thought he was lucky, who was he to argue?

  “Meanwhile,” she continued, “I got stuck with my father’s pasty complexion. I mean, thanks a lot, right? I look like a ghost.”

  She didn’t. She was a goddess. Her hair, a dark red, fell straight and thick past her shoulders. Her eyes were a light blue, her mouth full. She was taller than most of the girls in school, her legs long and toned from running cross-country.

  She was everything he’d ever wanted. Everything he’d dreamed of.

  She was also Luke’s girlfriend.

  Luke, who’d become the closest thing to a best friend that Andrew had ever had.

  “You don’t need a tan,” he mumbled, sounding like an idiot, like a kid who didn’t know what to say, how to act in front of a girl. “You look beautiful the way you are.”

  But it must have been the right thing because Kennedy smiled. Brushed her fingers over the back of his hand, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. “You’re sweet.”

  He flinched. Sweet. Whoop-de-freaking-do. Sweet was friend-zone material. Sweet did not get a guy laid.

  The last girl he’d had a thing for had thought he was sweet, too. Estelle Monroe was gorgeous, even prettier than Kennedy. They’d met in the spring, had gone out a few times while she’d been in town visiting her father. She’d been his first kiss, though he’d never admitted that to anyone.

  Especially when it hadn’t gone well.

  Still, they’d worked through it and when she’d gone back to Houston with her mother, they’d tried the whole long-distance thing. But after a few weeks, they’d both lost interest. Last time she’d texted him, she’d admitted she was seeing some college guy. He told her to go for it. To be honest, it hadn’t bothered him. He wanted a girlfriend he could actually see every day. Talk to. Touch.

  Kennedy leaned toward him, her shoulder pushing against his arm as she helped herself to a chip from his plate. He froze, could barely breathe with her so close. She smelled amazing, like sunshine and sunscreen and some sort of floral scent that he figured was her shampoo.

  “Did you try the cookies Luke’s mom made?” she asked, nibbling on the chip. “They are, like, so good. I had two.”

  Then, her eyes on his, she slowly ran the tip of her tongue along the corner of her mouth, licking a speck of salt, then rubbed her lips together.

  Andrew went rock hard.

  Shit.

  “Drew?” she asked, a small, satisfied smile on her face. “Did you hear me?”

  He blinked several times, had to look down at his plate. What had she asked him? Oh, yeah. “Uh...I had a couple of the chocolate-chip ones.”

  “Those were good, too. But these were the spice ones with cream-cheese frosting.”

  He hated cream cheese. “
I’ll have to try one later.”

  She patted his arm. “I’ll grab a couple for you.” She climbed to her feet, once again using him to balance as she swung her leg around the bench, except this time, she pressed close to him and spoke directly into his ear, her breath washing over his skin. “Be right back.”

  Don’t watch her go. Do not watch her go.

  But he couldn’t stop himself. When she disappeared around the corner of the Sapkos’ one-story brick house, he jerked his attention to his food. Hoped no one had seen him staring at her, drooling over her like some dog.

  Wanting his best friend’s girl.

  Andrew shoved his burger aside. Not that he’d ever come on to Kennedy or anything. Not while she was with Luke, anyway. There was a code, one he wasn’t about to break even if he didn’t understand it all that well. After she and Luke broke up—like, a few weeks after maybe—and when Luke was okay with it, Andrew would make his move.

  Kennedy and Luke wouldn’t last their entire high-school careers. They couldn’t. It would burn out eventually, then Andrew could prove he was the right guy for her. She already liked him. Yeah, as a friend, but there were times he thought maybe she had a thing for him, too. Times he’d catch her watching him, interest in her eyes. And she was always touching him—when Luke wasn’t around. Nothing major, just a quick stroke of his arm or hand. She stood close to him when she saw him in the hallways at school, her hip or thigh touching his.

  She even texted him sometimes late at night, just to talk. Andrew didn’t think she told Luke about any of that. He sure as hell wasn’t about to.

  Not because he felt guilty, he quickly assured himself. Or because they were doing anything wrong. It just wasn’t any of Luke’s business. They weren’t messing around behind his back or anything so why make it into a big deal?

  He lifted his head to see Kennedy walking toward him in her short cutoffs. Her waist was so narrow he could probably span it with his hands, her stomach flat. A light breeze lifted the ends of her hair; the sun made her skin glow. He couldn’t look away.

  “Here you go,” she said, her voice husky as she set a thick cookie in front of him.

  “Thanks.” He took a bite, forced himself to swallow without grimacing. “You’re right. They’re good.”

  Sure they were. If you liked sour milk. But he’d eat an entire bowl of cream cheese frosting if it meant she’d smile at him the way she was now.

  “Told you.”

  They ate their cookies in silence. The wind picked up and he considered putting his shirt back on, but Kennedy kept shooting looks at his chest and abs. He straightened and inhaled slightly, knowing it made the ridges of his stomach stick out.

  He didn’t quite have a six-pack, but he was close.

  She leaned toward him, setting her hand on his thigh. “Do you want to go for a walk?” she whispered.

  His mind blanked. Just...shut off with an audible click. She wanted to go for a walk? With him? “Everything okay?” he asked.

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s just...Luke. You know how he gets around all the guys.”

  Andrew had no idea, but Luke had obviously done something to upset her. It wouldn’t be a big deal, them disappearing into the woods behind the house. She probably only wanted someone to talk to.

  He flicked his gaze to her hand on his leg, liked how it looked against his skin. Imagined her sliding her hand higher, under the hem of his shorts, in between his thighs, those fingers curling around—

  “Dude.” Luke slapped him on the back. “You are one lucky bastard.”

  Andrew jumped. Kennedy slipped her hand to her own lap and edged away.

  “What?” Andrew asked, knowing damned well he sounded guilty. He tried again, this time even adding a grin. “Why’s that?”

  Luke sat on Kennedy’s other side and pulled her in between his legs, linking his hands across her bare stomach. He kissed the side of her neck and murmured, “Hey, baby.”

  She wiggled out of his arms. “Oh, so you have time for me now?”

  He tugged her back. “Come on. I always have time for you. And you’re not going to be able to stay pissed at me once you hear how I found Drew the perfect girl.”

  Andrew glanced at Kennedy, who sat stiffly, her arms crossed, her mouth pulled into a frown.

  “A girl?” Andrew asked stupidly.

  Luke wiggled his eyebrows. “A hot girl.”

  “What are you talking about?” Kennedy asked, turning slightly to face him.

  “I found our good buddy here a date.” Luke grinned widely, proud of himself for somehow managing to find someone to go out with Andrew.

  Andrew’s hands curled into fists. Jesus, way to make him sound like a pathetic loser who couldn’t get his own dates.

  “Who?” Kennedy asked.

  Luke took a drink from his water bottle. “Jessica.”

  Kennedy narrowed her eyes. “Jessica Constable or Jessica Wilber?” She slapped his chest. “It had better not be Jess Hanover. She is such a slut.”

  “None of the above. It’s Jessica Kloss and I have it on good authority that she has a thing for the Free-man here.” He held out his hand, leaving Andrew no choice but to slap it. “Congrats, bud.”

  Kennedy’s mouth pinched. “Jessica said she liked him?”

  Luke tapped his phone. “She texted me a few minutes ago asking if he was talking to any girls. I told her no and gave her his number.” Luke nodded at Andrew. “Don’t be surprised if she texts you tonight.”

  Andrew felt for his phone, but it remained silent and still. “Who’s Jessica Kloss?”

  Though this town and school were small, there were still close to eight hundred kids at the high school. “She’s a sophomore,” Luke said. “Dark blond hair to here.” He motioned to his shoulders. “Plays varsity volleyball...” He scrolled through his phone, typed in something, then held the screen up so Andrew could see his Instagram feed.

  “Cute,” Andrew said of the sunny, smiling blonde in the picture.

  Cute, but not Kennedy.

  “When she texts you,” Luke said, putting his phone away, “see if she wants to hang out this weekend. The four of us can go to the movies or something.”

  Andrew couldn’t help but glance at Kennedy. She stared at the table. What had he expected? That she’d give him some sort of sign, a signal that she didn’t want him talking to Jessica? Didn’t want him with her?

  That was stupid. Kennedy wasn’t his girlfriend. She was Luke’s. He had to remember that.

  “Yeah, sure,” he said. “That’d be cool. That is, if it’s okay with you, Kennedy.”

  She lifted a shoulder but didn’t meet his eyes. “Why wouldn’t it be?” She shifted and wound her arms around Luke’s neck, her hands in his brown hair. “I’m bored.”

  Luke hooked his finger under the strap of her swimsuit and ran it up to her shoulder, then down to the swell of her breast. “Yeah? I thought you wanted to play Wiffle Ball.”

  “I changed my mind.” She arched her back and Luke’s free hand settled above the curve of her ass. She wiggled closer. “Maybe we could find something...else to do?”

  “We could always ditch the picnic for a few minutes,” Luke said, his voice low. “Hang out in my room for a while.”

  Andrew wanted to stab his ears with a fork.

  “I’ll meet you there in five minutes.” She stood and kissed Luke.

  And when she straightened, she looked directly at Andrew. Held his gaze for one long heartbeat then walked away, her hips swaying.

  “Dude,” Luke said, “if my parents ask about me, tell them the last time you saw me was at the pool.”

  Andrew tried to smile. “Yeah. Sure.”

  Luke took off, keeping his own pace slow.

  Andrew slumped in the seat. Someone called his name and he saw a couple of the guys near the driveway waving him over. He lifted his hand and stood. The last thing he wanted was to sit there and think about what Kennedy and Luke were going to be doing in five minutes.r />
  But the more he tried not to think about it, the more images filled his mind. Except they weren’t images of Kennedy and Luke, but Kennedy and Andrew. Of her hands on him. Her mouth. Of what it would be like to be able to touch her whenever he wanted. Wherever he wanted.

  His body stirred, his groin tightening. Damn it. Again? He quickly sat down, adjusted himself in his shorts. Some days he wished his penis had an on/off switch. It’d be less embarrassing that way.

  “Having fun?” Luke’s mom asked as she joined him.

  And just like that, he went from turned on to contemplating never again even thinking about sex.

  Mothers had that effect on people.

  “Yeah,” he said, his face warming as if she could somehow read his thoughts. “It’s great. Thanks again for having me.”

  “Have you seen Luke around? He promised he’d help gather wood for the fire.”

  Andrew swallowed, forced himself not to so much as glance at the house lest she figure out what her son was doing in his bedroom. “Uh...he might be in the pool still.”

  Making a humming sound, she studied him, as if weighing his words on her bullshit meter. He must’ve passed, because she smiled, wrinkles forming at the corners of her eyes and mouth. She was very...round. Round face. Round body. Her short brown hair was half gray, but then she was pretty old. Older than his own mom, even. Like maybe...fifty.

  “It’s a shame your mother couldn’t come, too,” Mrs. Sapko said as she gathered the empty plates and glasses from the table. “I was looking forward to getting to know her better.”

  His mom wasn’t exactly friendly at the best of times. She was awkward and unsociable and tended to put people on edge because she always had to be right. Had to be the smartest and best in the room. “She...uh...she already had plans. But she asked me to tell you thanks for, you know, inviting her.”

  “She’s welcome here anytime, as are you. I’m glad to hear she’s made friends in town,” Mrs. Sapko said before walking away with the garbage.

  Andrew snorted. His mom didn’t have friends. Even before he’d gotten sick, she’d never gone to lunch with other women or had a night out. She spent her time with him and his dad or at work.