Consumed By You

by Lauren Blakely

  “Tell me more about you, Cara,” he said.

  I’m almost thirty, I like dancing, both alone and with others, and I sing off-key in the shower, especially to Taylor Swift, Jane Black, and old Madonna tunes. I like to cook, to exercise, to volunteer at the local dog shelter, and my greatest joy lies in teaching animals to have better relationships with the people they live with.

  Oh, and there’s one more teeny, tiny thing you need to know about me. It’s my Achilles’ heel when it comes to my stalled romantic life. Did I happen to mention that I’m hung up on someone else, and I simply can’t get him out of my system?

  Later, Joe walked her to her car and opened the door. “I’d love to see you again, Cara. From what Kaitlyn told me, you and I are very similar and want a lot of the same things in life. I’ve got some business travel for a conference coming up, but would it be all right if I called you when I return?”

  Damn. He was polite, too.

  “Of course,” she said. Maybe by then, she wouldn’t be thinking about that other man. Maybe by then, she could give Joe a chance for real. He had so much promise, and by all measures, he seemed a perfect fit for Cara’s plans for her heart.

  …

  Henry wagged his tail and sat perfectly at Travis’s mother’s feet, his mouth hanging open, waiting for something delicious to drop into it, like a piece of a hot dog or hamburger that Robert was grilling on the porch.

  “Mom, have you been giving Henry treats when you watch him?” Travis asked as he dropped off his dog for the next twenty-four hours that he’d be on shift. If it weren’t for his mom’s offer to take care of Henry while he worked at the firehouse, Travis would never have been able to adopt the dog in the first place. A few months ago, when he’d stopped by to repair a broken pipe under the sink, he’d mentioned offhand that he’d love to get a dog if only he didn’t have to be away for such long shifts.

  He hadn’t been fishing for a sitter. But she leaped at the chance, insisting on taking care of a dog when he worked.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Of course not. He simply wants to please me,” she said, then winked at the dog and scooped him up in her arms. Henry rubbed his head against her and shot her that puppy dog look. She shooed Travis to the front door. “Be on your way. I need to spend the next twenty-four hours doting on this little boy.”

  Travis’s stepdad Robert closed the screen door behind him, stepping inside the house briefly to say hello. He sighed heavily at the sight of his wife nuzzling the puppy. “That little guy has her wrapped around his paw.”

  Travis laughed. “Yeah. He’s a chick magnet.”

  Robert tipped his forehead to the lovey-dovey pair. “You should bring him on stage with you at the fireman’s auction. You’d surely win.”

  His mom’s eyes sparkled and she nodded. “Oh that’s a great idea! Do that, Travis. You can finally break your Susan Lucci streak.”

  Travis rolled his eyes. He’d lost out on first prize for three years running in the California Bachelor Fireman’s Auction, a fundraising event for volunteer fire departments around the state. “Thanks again for reminding me.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll tutor you on winning. Bookstore owners have all the right moves with the ladies,” Robert said, flexing his biceps and preening as he posed to the left with an arm pump, then to the right, to show off his guns.

  Travis laughed. Robert wasn’t a beefy guy at all. Nor was he handy around the house, hence Travis’s regular appearances to fix anything that broke. Robert was, however, an extremely good guy, and he also didn’t risk his life every day, which helped his appeal in the eyes of his mother after losing Travis’ firefighter dad to a blaze long ago.

  “Thanks again for watching Henry, Mom. I need to take off for the firehouse,”

  “Be safe. Hope you have a quiet shift,” his mother said, clasping her hand on her heart. She worried about him every day.

  “I will, Mom. I’m always safe.”

  He dropped a kiss on her forehead and said good-bye, stopping briefly to linger in the hallway, where the wall was lined with family photos. An old wedding picture of his parents from years ago, his dad in his dress uniform and his mom in white. A shot of his dad pushing him on a swing. An image of Travis standing next to his father at the river, the two of them fishing. Then there were the blank years—no photos captured for some time, until he was older, finishing high school. Travis missed his dad, but he also missed that time with his mom. It was as if she’d been underwater then, and those years that followed his father’s death were the markers in his life. They were the proof, day after day, year after year, of how love could truly break a heart.

  His family was hollow, his youth a black hole until he finished high school and his mom emerged from the sadness. He tracked the photos of his senior year. A few football shots as he played wide receiver, a picture of him dealing cards with some of the guys at the firehouse who’d looked out for him. At the end of the wall, a photo of him and Cara snagged his attention—the proverbial prom shot—him in a tux, her in a light blue dress with slim straps, his arm wrapped around her waist, both of them smiling for the camera.

  A memory slipped past him: a reel of the two of them dancing under silver disco balls that spun from the ballroom ceiling at the local hotel where prom was held. She’d always loved dancing; she was a free spirit when music played, and she moved as if the notes truly inhabited her. She’d sung along to the faster numbers, then pulled him in close for the slower ones.

  Later that night, they’d taken off, leaving the rest of the decked out seniors in a swirl of dust. But not for a hotel room, or one of their homes. They camped out at the end of Miner’s Road by the river, in a tent, with a radio playing some of their favorite music as he spent the night with her under the stars. He peered at the photo, as if the image had tugged his emotions back in time, too. He’d been crazy about her when they were younger, his heart beating fast just from being near her.

  He scoffed at the memory, shoving it away. He was happy with her then, but that was because they were teenagers. They had a natural expiration date because of their age and their plans. They were heading off to college at opposite ends of the state. They didn’t make any silly promises of forever because they both knew it simply wasn’t possible.

  Not then. Not now.

  Being crazy for someone was a recipe for trouble. Besides, a serious relationship didn’t suit his lifestyle. He had his work, he had the firehouse, and he had a dog now. He didn’t need the problems that some kind of crazy longing for a woman would bring to his life.

  He tapped his knuckles on the wall, as if he was saying good-bye to those kinds of feelings, then took off for the firehouse a mile away. He was an hour early for his shift, but that was the plan.

  It was time for Smith to pay up. True, Travis hadn’t nabbed any additional days of car washing, as he would have if he’d won Smith’s “get her to go home with you” challenge. But he’d landed the lip lock at the club, and since she’d made it damn clear she didn’t intend to ever do a thing with him again, he was going to enjoy all he had—his clean ride.

  “Be sure to make the hubcap sparkle,” he shouted as Smith set to work on the tires.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Watch it, or I’ll make some bet you can’t resist over how badly you’ll lose the fireman’s auction. Especially since you’re one of the few single guys left to enter.”

  “No way am I losing this year. No fucking way,” Travis said. He wasn’t simply trying to win for male pride. He had a more important goal in mind this year, and he desperately wanted to meet it.

  …

  Twenty-four hours later, he finished his shift. As was their habit, he and his buddy Jackson stopped at Becker’s bar, The Panting Dog, on the way home. Travis couldn’t resist the burger special, complete with extra jalapenos and hot sauce.

  “Man, I am looking forward to crashing when I get home,” Jackson said as he pushed open the door of the bustling bar.

  “Same her
e. Nothing like a good night’s sleep after a long shift,” he said, because it had been a busy one, with several first responder calls.

  As the door swung shut behind them, Travis scanned the crowded eatery, saying hello to a few familiar faces—the woman who ran his favorite coffee shop, McDoodle’s, as well as a cop he knew well, Johnny. Then, he spotted a ponytail he’d recognize anywhere. Cara was perched on a stool at the counter, chatting with his sister as they both nibbled on an appetizer of hummus and carrots.

  “I’ll join you in a second,” he said to Jackson, who’d snagged a table that had just been vacated near the window.

  He walked over to the women and said hello. “How are you ladies doing tonight?”

  “Ladies?” Megan asked, arching an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’re talking about Mom. We’re no ladies.”

  She elbowed Cara, and both of them laughed.

  He rolled his eyes. “Gals? You prefer gals?”

  “We prefer hot, smart, gorgeous women,” Cara said, chiming in.

  He couldn’t agree more, but he wasn’t going to compliment the woman he wanted to fuck in the same breath that he complimented his sister, so he moved on. “Anyway, what’s going on?” he asked Megan, but his gaze drifted to Cara, and her short skirt, and those bare legs. His mind instantly returned to the club, and he could recall perfectly how she’d felt in his hands, and how sexy she’d sounded as she chased her pleasure. He shifted behind the stool to hide the evidence of his quick arousal.

  Down boy.

  “That’s great,” he said when Megan finished, though he had no clue what she’d just told him.

  “So I’d better head home. I have a new client coming in tomorrow morning for a heart and arrow tattoo, and I need to finish the sketch work,” Megan added. Ah, she’d been talking about work. Megan had recently opened Hidden Oaks’ first tattoo parlor, Paint My Body, and she’d been quickly growing her business.

  “I need to head out, too,” Cara said, reaching into her purse to grab some cash. “I’ll take care of the bill.”

  Megan laughed and pressed her hand on top of Cara’s. “Stop it. You know Becker won’t let me pay. You came in with me, so it’s on the house.”

  “I’ll leave a generous tip, then,” Cara said as she dipped her hand into her purse.

  Travis fished some greenbacks from his wallet. He beat Cara to the punch, reaching between the women to lay the money on the counter. “Tip’s on me.”

  “Thank you, Travis,” Cara said, and dropped her hand to his arm, squeezing it. She’d done that before. It was her gesture, her way of saying she appreciated something, and even that small touch turned him on. Being so near to her was dangerous, especially since she’d laid down the law the other day. But he couldn’t seem to resist. She was to him what peanut butter was to his dog. “Oh, and I wanted to tell you, for Henry’s lessons, I think he could benefit from a Martingale collar,” she added.

  “What’s that?”

  “Do you have a second? I have one in my car. I’ll show you.”

  “Sure,” he said, and as Megan excused herself to say good-bye to Becker, Travis told Jackson he’d join him in a minute.

  He followed Cara outside to her car. His eyes strayed to the curves of her ass, so damn tantalizing. Next, her bare legs. God bless summer, and the skin women showed in the warmer months. Her legs were toned and strong, perfect for wrapping around his waist as he drove into her.

  He inhaled sharply, trying hard to rewire his brain when he was near her.

  Hard being the operative word.

  She craned her neck to look up at the dark blanket of night. “I love how clear the sky is here. You can see all the stars,” she said, pointing as they walked.

  Stars. That would definitely take his mind off his hard-on. “Yeah, I think that’s the green dipper right there,” he said, deadpan, squinting as if he were studying the twinkling lights against the inky backdrop of night.

  “Green dipper?” she asked.

  He stroked his chin. “Isn’t that what it’s called? Or is it the jalapeno dipper nowadays?” he offered up, because he had jalapenos on his mind.

  She laughed, then quickly played long. “Actually, it’s the Nacho Dipper. It was renamed recently.”

  “And over there,” he said, reaching his arm up high, in the direction of three bright stars in a line, “that’s Orion’s Suspenders.”

  She pointed at a shining star. “And isn’t that Cleopatra right by the Jalapeno Dipper?”

  He patted her back, as if he were proud of her. “You are a damn fine astronomer, Cara,” he said as they reached her car, and she flashed him a wide smile.

  “You are very clever,” she said as she unlocked the front door and stretched across the seat to grab something.

  There went his focus-on-the-pretty-stars-in-the-sky plan. Like that, back bent, ponytail spilling over her shoulder, she was in a perfect position for him to take her. To hike up that skirt, learn what color panties she had on tonight, and then tear them off.

  She turned around and dropped a dog collar into his hand. “There. Something like this will help him learn all his new tricks faster. Take this to the pet store and get one in his size.”

  With the speed of a racecar driver, she said a quick good-bye and drove off into the night, leaving him with a hard-on and a dog collar.

  As he headed back into The Panting Dog, it occurred to him that both man and dog would need to learn some new tricks. But, he realized, new tricks might be the perfect way to win the fireman’s auction.

  He’d just need some help from Cara.

  Chapter Six

  The scent of a fruity hairspray drifted past her nose.

  Her sister was putting the finishing touches on Alycia Andrews’s sleek new bob. Alycia managed the Silver Pine winery and its popular tasting room on the town square.

  “I love the new cut,” Cara called out as she walked over to her sister’s booth in the local hair salon.

  Alycia flashed her a bright smile. “What color are you doing today, Cara? Are you going all purple?”

  “Yes, I think it’s time for me to match the vines,” she said.

  Her six-month pregnant sister playfully shot her client a dirty look. “Don’t be planting those silly ideas in her head,” the chestnut-haired Stacy said, wagging her finger at Alycia.

  Alycia held up her hands as if to say, Who me?

  “I take full responsibility for all my silly ideas. Every single one of them,” Cara said, tapping her temple.

  “By the way, our new pinot noir is to die for. Stop by later, and I’ll give you a bottle,” Alycia said, and then eyed Stacy’s belly in apology. “And in a few months for you.”

  Stacy smiled.

  “I’ll definitely pop in,” Cara said, as Stacy unbuttoned the black smock, folded it up, and swiveled Alycia around to show her the back of her hair in a red handheld mirror.

  “Perfect,” Alycia said, lightly brushing her new length with her fingertips as she stood up, thanked Stacy, and headed to the front of the salon to pay.

  Stacy patted the chair. “Your turn. And don’t think you can do that snip-and-dash with me like you did last time.”

  Cara rolled her eyes. “I always try to pay you,” she said, indignant.

  Stacy ruffled her hair. “I’m just teasing you. You know your money’s no good here. So what can I do you for today?”

  Stacy was an absolute whiz at hair and always had been. That might even have been the main reason she liked the late addition to the family. When Cara appeared in her life, Stacy had twenty-four hour access to hair to style, to brush, and to play with. She practiced all her techniques on Cara over the years, from temporary color to new twists and chignons. Not to mention a range of cuts and styles from multi-layered, to news anchor length, to this-is-so-short-I’ll-kill-you, to long, sleek and sexy, as Stacy referred to it now. Her business at the salon had picked up in recent months, about the time another stylist had left town after a scandal with a marri
ed man.

  Cara met Stacy’s eyes in the mirror. “Can you make me a redhead?” she asked, because she’d cycled through the other major colors in the last year and was ready for a new look. She liked change, and mixing it up. Perhaps that’s why she and Stacy had achieved this perfect symbiosis—Cara was a willing guinea pig.

  Though sometimes Cara wondered if she’d gone along with Stacy’s big sister edicts when they were younger because she had wanted to fit in with the Bailey family. Perhaps she’d been determined to show how well she belonged by happily going with the program. Her parents had treated her just the same as her sisters, but Cara had always been aware that she hadn’t joined the family the same way. Maybe that had made her more eager to be like the other girls, and to do what they did, whether it was having her hair done by Stacy, or her clothes picked out by Sofie, who’d always been the fashionista of the bunch. A vintage dress designer with a small Etsy shop, Sofie had used Cara to try out patterns when they were kids.

  Nowadays, Cara simply loved having her hair done, and she adored picking out pretty dresses all by herself. Whatever had driven her in her younger years had become the core of who she was today. No point psychoanalyzing herself. She was who she was.

  “You made me this way. You addicted me to your crazy styles,” she added.

  “Fair enough. But we can’t go from this shade of dark to redheaded that quickly,” Stacy said, picking up a few strands of Cara’s hair. “You need to strip out the dark color first, and that’ll take some time. Can we do red streaks instead?”

  Cara shrugged happily. “Works for me.”

  “So give me the report. How was the date with Joe? And how was the bachelor-bachelorette party?” Stacy asked, as she mixed the color at the sink next to her booth.

  Cara sighed, and shared the details of her lust-free date with Joe, then her lust-fueled hallway tryst a few nights before with Travis, then how much she’d wanted him last night when she gave him the dog collar. Every encounter with him had her hormones skyrocketing.