“Felony charges? Are you kidding me? No one was hurt. No business interrupted. It was a nuisance, that’s all.”
“If Rusty hadn’t happened by and called it in, you’d be watching the hardware store burn right now. Now that really would be a nuisance, wouldn’t it? But in this jurisdiction, any intentional burning of property not your own is arson, and arson is a felony.”
“Look, Chief.” Buchanan cleared his throat and straightened his tie. “We appreciate having your level of expertise at our disposal, but maybe bringing you down here to run things was a mistake for both of us. Bluelick is not Cincinnati.”
Josh had reached the conclusion months ago, but hearing the mayor say so, for his own self-serving reasons, flat-out pissed him off. “You’re paying for my expertise, which applies no matter where the incident occurs.”
“That is simply not true. We have relationships around here, and things aren’t so cut-and-dried. I need more from a fire chief than a recitation of the elements of a crime. I need someone who understands and appreciates the difference between a few bored teenagers rebelling against whatever the hell they have to rebel against this week, and actual criminal behavior. Maybe—I’m not saying they did—but maybe somebody intentionally set this fire. If so, they did it to fuck up a Dumpster, not burn down the town. They’re kids, Chief.”
“You know what? I never suggested kids did this. You’re the one who keeps accusing the youth of Bluelick.”
“You have another explanation?”
“There are lots of potential scenarios. For instance, you’re the sole owner of the hardware store, right?”
The mayor’s normally conciliatory brown eyes turned marble hard. “Correct. What are you trying to imply.?
“Nothing. Just looking at the facts. The barn that burned down last week…also yours, as I recall.”
“You know it was.”
“I do. And I remember you worrying my report might throw a snag in you receiving your insurance payout. I bet you have a shitload of insurance on the hardware store. If Rusty hadn’t happened by when he did, and we hadn’t been able to contain the fires in the Dumpsters so quickly, your store wouldn’t be standing right now.”
Buchanan paled, but his jaw jutted forward like an angry bulldog’s. “You think I torched my own barn, and tried to burn down my own store, for the insurance money? Are you insane?”
“Like I said, there are lots of possible scenarios. Maybe bored kids looking for a dangerous thrill, maybe not.” He’d lay money on one particular bored, spoiled kid, but that wager came straight from his gut, with absolutely no hard evidence attached.
The mayor expelled a breath. “Chief, I didn’t burn my property. The insurance on the hardware store is a nice chunk of change, but the store turns a decent profit, so torching it would be shortsighted of me. The tractor—hell, the insurance on that is a lousy few grand.” He shook his head and gave a humorless laugh. “That’s barely a dent in my monthly alimony payments. There’s no insurance scam here. There’s no intent to harm people. This is a small group of kids acting out. My advice to you”—he pointed a finger at Josh—“is to take your zeal down a notch. The citizens of Bluelick don’t need an outsider coming in and telling us how to approach minor local incidents, blow them out of proportion, and waste resources. There’s no reason to go CSI on every damn thing. Just put out the fires.”
Rusty stood on the other side of the Dumpsters, grinning into his phone, no doubt relaying to the sheriff every word the mayor said. Fuckers.
He looked up, covered the phone with his hand, and addressed Josh. “Sheriff wants to know if you still want him to send someone.”
Jesus, this town. The whole fucking county. “I’m going to pretend you just told me they have a cruiser on the way.”
Rusty turned away and spoke into the phone.
The mayor stomped back to his car. Josh looked over to where the cluster of citizens had gathered to watch the commotion. Three teenage boys hovering at the edge of the group caught his eye. Justin stood front and center. Smirking.
Chapter Twelve
Christ, what a week. Spending the first few hours of his Friday evening at Rawley’s sounded like an awful way to end it, in Josh’s mind. All he wanted was a certain cool blonde and a marathon of hot, mind-numbing sex. A noisy, crowded bar full of locals didn’t make the list. But Melody had suggested meeting at the bar after work. Since he considered her an integral part of the sex marathon, here he sat.
He glanced around the bar, absently rubbing the knot of tension pounding at the base of his skull. A happy hour crowd packed the place, but he didn’t spot Melody in the press of bodies. He mentally extinguished a flash of disappointment and called himself an idiot. They were keeping things casual, so why in God’s name had his thoughts wandered to her so often this week? Why had he literally forced himself not to call, just to—what the fuck—talk? He was starting to piss himself off.
His phone vibrated. He pulled it out of the back pocket of his jeans and read the incoming text. Leaving the office now. See you in 5. He tapped back an OK and claimed an empty spot at the bar, figuring he could have her chardonnay waiting for her when she arrived.
“Buy you a drink, Chief?”
Josh turned to find the source of the offer and came face-to-face with Junior. “I think it’s my round.”
Tyler stepped over. “I’ll get this one. Jeb,” he called to the younger Rawley, who manned their end of the bar while Rawley Senior tended the other end. “Put the chief’s order on my tab.” The bartender nodded and held up a finger in the universal sign for “give me one minute.”
“I’m actually waiting for someone, so—”
“No problem. I’m sure I owe Melody a drink, too.”
The knot of tension tightened. No secrets around here. “All right. Thanks.” He gave his order to Jeb, and then turned his attention back to Tyler and Junior. “Is this a friendly gesture or did you have something on your mind?”
Longfoot propped an elbow on the bar, all relaxed and at home, but Josh noticed he didn’t have a drink. “Heard you stood your ground with Buchanan Monday night, and inspired the sheriff’s department to get off their asses, too. That’s well played in my book.”
“Shit yeah,” Junior added. “Buchanan’s been running interference for his kid too long. Good to see someone refuse to look the other way just because Daddy has some pull in this town.”
“Amen to that,” Jeb said as he delivered Josh’s drink order.
The show of support felt good. Surprisingly good, considering he hadn’t realized he cared what the locals thought. Maybe spending a couple hours at Rawley’s had an upside. Despite his opinion of Buchanan and his personal suspicions about Justin, fairness compelled him to respond, “I’m not aiming to deal a ‘screw you’ to Buchanan or his son. My only goal is to resolve two suspicious blazes. Investigating them is the sheriff’s job. Calling them in was mine.”
“Maybe,” Tyler drawled. “But old Chief Murdock would have put out the fires and gone home to bed, especially if Buchanan suggested that’s what ought to be done. Same with the rest of the guys in the department. I like them. They’re good guys, but each and every one of them would have put out the fires and called it a night, too. Bluelick needs a few officials who ask a fucking question now and again instead of looking the other way”—he broke off when his phone buzzed and glanced down at the screen—“I’m out of here.”
“Lemme guess. You got yourself a doctor’s appointment,” Junior teased.
“More like a private lesson,” Tyler replied cryptically. To Josh, he said, “Thanks, Chief.”
“For what?”
“For not looking the other way.” With that, he headed toward the door.
“I better go, too,” Junior said as they watched Tyler hold the door open for Melody on his way out. She breezed in wearing a smile, a sleeveless blue dress the color of her eyes, and dark blue heels—the kind with holes in the front so a couple of red toenails peeke
d out and thin straps around her ankles. Junior said something, but Josh listened with only half an ear because he was too busy imagining sitting her on the bar, pushing her billowy skirt high on her thighs, and licking his way up and down her legs, starting at one ankle strap and ending at the other.
“Huh?” He pulled his attention back to Junior.
“I promised LouAnn I’d sit through some movie she picked out. I guess Channing Tatum took off his shirt again.” He sighed and shook his head. “The things I do for love. Hi, Mel. Bye, Mel.”
“Bye, Junior.” From the moment she walked in the door, her big blue eyes never wavered from his, and Josh felt the last of the tension in his neck dissolve. “Hey, Chief,” she said in a voice filled with pure invitation.
His body responded with a big yes. He picked up their drinks. “I ordered for you. Let’s get a table.”
She led him to one of the last open booths along the back wall. Once she sat, he scooted in beside her and handed her the wine. One corner of her mouth curved up. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
“Would you like me to get you drunk?”
She leaned in close. “There’s no need. My inhibitions are already nonexistent where you’re concerned.”
He couldn’t say whether it was her admission, or her breath tickling his ear, or a combination of the two, but he suddenly lost all desire to hang out at Rawley’s. He drew back and looked at her flushed face and twinkling eyes.
She took a sip of wine, then closed her eyes, sighed, and let her head tip back as she swallowed. He imagined grabbing a handful of her soft, wavy hair, tilting her head back a little more, and—
“Whew, what a day. The afternoon was so busy, I feel like this is the first moment I’ve had to relax.” She tapped a finger against her wineglass. “This is perfect. Thank you.”
Okay, it wouldn’t kill him to hang out a few more minutes. “Technically, the drink is from Tyler. He bought us a round.”
Her smile kicked up another notch. “Why Chief, are you making friends here in little old Bluelick?”
He slipped his hand between her knees and glided his palm up the warm, smooth path of her inner thigh. “I like to think I’ve already made a friend.”
Her eyelids fluttered. Her breath hitched. Her leg muscles melted under his touch, allowing him unhampered access to his “friend.” He stroked the already-damp silk of her panties. “Did my friend miss me?”
“No. In fact, after all this time, you’ll have to reintroduce yourself.” Despite her sassy reply, she scooted closer, pushing herself more fully into his palm.
He laughed at her stubbornness and sent a finger under the slippery fabric and into the slicker, silkier territory beneath. “I think she remembers. She’s making me feel right at home.”
Melody placed her hands on the table, fingers spread wide as if seeking stability. “She’s just being polite. Call it”—her words trailed off with a little moan when he eased his finger inside her tight, hot channel—“Southern hospitality.”
“Have I mentioned how much I appreciate Southern hospitality?”
“I think you’d better give me a demonstration.”
“You’re not wearing pink,” he pointed out.
“Yes, I am. You just haven’t seen it yet.”
Well, now he had to. He withdrew his hand, ignored her small sound of disappointment, and turned in the booth so his back and shoulders protected her from prying eyes. “Lift up your skirt.”
Her hand disappeared under the table and she raised the hem to her thighs, until he caught a flash of the promised pink panties. “Like this?”
“Almost.” He grabbed a handful of the back of her skirt and raised it. She lifted her hips to help, but complained, “It’s going to get all wrinkled.”
“You worried people will know how the wrinkles got there? Maybe they will. Maybe your wrinkled skirt will scandalize the whole damn bar. You secretly want to scandalize them, don’t you?” Since he was in the vicinity, he sneaked his hand under her raised hips and palmed her ass, happy to find warm, smooth skin and a very tiny thong. Her low moan suggested he wasn’t the only happy one. “Don’t you?” he repeated.
She groaned, and nodded. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I want to.”
“You’d like to shock them all.”
“Yes.”
“Including yourself.”
“Yes.” The admission came out as a whisper.
“Sit.”
The soft slap of her bare skin meeting leather followed.
“Remember my promise. By the time we walk out of here, everybody in this place is going to know you let a bad-mannered city boy wrinkle your skirt.” He sent his hand under the volumes of skirt covering her lap. Between her legs, he slowly worked his way deeper, using his fingers to simultaneously stroke and penetrate. She bit her lip.
“What will they think?” With his free hand he lifted one of hers from where it lay on the table and twined their fingers together. She tightened her hold, and his chest swelled with something ridiculously close to contentment even as his dick swelled with need. “Will they shake their heads and say you’ve lost your good sense, or will some say they always suspected you had a wild streak under all your straight laces?”
“No. Nobody suspects.”
He seriously doubted that, but right now, to anybody watching, they were two people engrossed in a private conversation. He was the only one close enough to see her heavy eyelids or the perspiration dewing her upper lip.
He worked his finger a little deeper, using slow, circular strokes. A breathy, not-so-muted cry accompanied her exhale.
“Shhh,” he whispered in her ear, letting his lips graze her lobe and coaxing a shiver from her. “Can’t have Miss Bluelick getting kicked out of Rawley’s for indecent behavior.”
She pressed her lips together and lowered her chin to her chest. The move left her looking contrite, but her body tightened around his finger.
“Look at you, sitting there so sweet and innocent. Nobody would guess what a bad girl you’re being right now. You like that, don’t you?”
She didn’t immediately answer—just tightened her hold on his hand in a silent plea for more. “You like it,” he answered for her. “Tell me why.”
“I spent too many years being a good girl. I want…I want…” The words trailed off into a groan when he adjusted the angle of penetration and increased the speed of his thumb over her clit. She bit her lip again to cut off the noise.
“Gets you hot, being surrounded by all these unsuspecting people while I have my hand up your skirt, fucking you mindless with my finger.”
“Yes,” she repeated, but this time the word was barely a whisper. Not a hint of shame though, only pure excitement. The hand clutching his tightened, and he knew she was close.
“Are you going to come for me?”
“Yes.”
“Right here in front of everybody?”
“Oh God. Yes.”
“Don’t scream,” he warned, and bit her earlobe.
“Ooh…I can’t promise—”
“Should I put my tongue in your mouth to keep you quiet?”
“You”—she swallowed and then gasped as he slid a second finger inside her—“you probably should.”
He moved his lips closer to hers and stared into her eyes. “Tell me when.” Her free hand came up to rest against his chest and he knew she’d feel the pounding of his heart against her palm. Her body contracted around his finger.
“Soon. Really, really soo—”
He dropped his head and captured her lips. She surged against him, trembled with the effort of containing the orgasm, and then her cry of pleasure flowed into his mouth. He held her tight until her trembling gradually subsided, and then slowly withdrew from her. Only then did he lift his head.
A laugh burst from her lips—half breathless, half amazed—and she rested her forehead against his. “I can’t believe we just did that.”
She sounded so astounded and exhilarated, he grappled with an urge to pull her into his arms and just…hug her—an impulse he didn’t know what to do with. Luckily he had a whole bunch of other urges he knew exactly what to do with.
“Come on.” He stood and half pulled, half dragged her out of the booth. “You’re looking feverish.”
His observation brought forth another laugh. “I’m staring at the cause.”
With her hand tucked securely in his, he led her toward the door. “You’re in luck, Bluelick, ’cause I’m also the cure.
…
“I like the shoes.”
Melody pulled her attention from the familiar scenery whipping past the passenger window of Josh’s Yukon. “What?”
“Your shoes. I like those…whatever you call the window-things in the front…and the straps around your ankles.”
She glanced down at her peep-toed blue pumps and smiled. “They’re new.”
“Did you buy them knowing I’d take one look and want to prop your feet on my shoulders and fuck you while I bit through each ankle strap?”
Mercy. She lowered the window several inches and let the breeze blow over her face. “I hoped for something along those lines.”
“You’ll get your wish in about five minutes.”
His take-no-prisoners tone sent a thrill through her system. Crude and domineering? Maybe, but the blatantly sexual nature of his attention made her feel sexy. Desired. No, he wasn’t going to romance her with poetry or fancy dinners. This wasn’t about romance. He wanted her, plain and simple. And he seemed to draw the same hunger from her. Learning she could experience and inspire this much lust had been a surprise and a relief. Realizing they could sustain it beyond a night or two was an out-and-out revelation.
But sustain they did. Electricity crackled between them whenever they got within a mile of each other, and showed no signs of subsiding. How in God’s name had she existed without it for so long?
She’d feared there was something wrong with her, that’s how. Now she knew different. She had needs, powerful needs, and there was no stuffing that knowledge back in the box and pretending otherwise. She didn’t want to. Didn’t want to hide her desires or temper them into something less fierce. With Josh she felt free to explore that side of herself. He’d never back away. He’d take everything she had, and demand more.
Light Her Fire Page 13
