From The Ashes (Golden Falls Fire Book 3)

by Scarlett Andrews

  “Troy, shouldn’t you be heading home about now?” Tom said. “You do still have a fiancée, don’t you?”

  Garrett laughed again. “What Julie doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Hell, I’m not married to the old ball-and-chain yet. It’s still game time for me.” He looked around and pointed at a group of women a few tables over. “Her, her, her. Any of them.” He elbowed Jack. “Maybe all three at once—ha!”

  “This,” Jack said to Tom. “This is why I don’t go drinking with people from work.”

  Garrett was so oblivious that he didn’t even catch the insult.

  “Ooh, there’s one I’d bang.” Garrett pointed at Elizabeth. “Her boobs are too small and her ass is too flat, but I’ve heard she gives good head. Trashy chicks usually do.”

  Jack didn’t even think; he just reacted. He grabbed Garrett by the collar of his shirt, jostling his beer in the process, which then tipped and spilled across the table.

  “She’s not trashy,” Jack said, his voice tight. “Don’t say another word about her, or I’ll kick your ass from here to Anchorage.”

  “Ah, sensitive.” Garrett grinned like he’d figured out Jack’s secret. “You want to tap that thing yourself, huh? Or have you already?”

  Jack shoved him.

  “Easy,” Tom said, gripping Jack’s shoulder. From the corner of his eye, Jack saw Josh, Hayley, and Sean heading over and knew he’d screwed up.

  “I get it, man.” Garrett kept grinning his asshole grin. “She’s all yours. But, hey, isn’t that the chick Engine One ran a call on the other night? The drunk one who called her lawyer instead of 911?”

  “She wasn’t drunk.” Jack started toward Garrett again, but Sean intervened.

  “Troy, buddy!” Sean clapped him on the shoulder and steered him away. “Let me buy you a shot. Or even better, our favorite firefighting musician Dylan is supposed to be performing at the Salmon Eye, so let’s head over there. Next round’s on me.”

  “That’s a great idea!” Hayley said. “Come on, you guys.”

  Josh brought out his phone. “I’ll order a ride.”

  “You all go ahead,” Jack said. “I think I’m done for the night.”

  Hayley offered to get Garrett’s coat for him and distracted him with some small talk as she steered him toward the door. Sean grabbed some napkins to clean up the spilled beer, while Tom went to pay the open bar tab.

  Josh stayed behind. “What the hell was that about?”

  “None of your business,” Jack said. Still wishing he could punch Troy Garrett, he glared at the source of his offense until he was halfway out the bar.

  “It is my business because you’re my brother and you could damn well lose your job if you get physical with someone from the department,” Josh said. “And you know that, and you also know Troy Garrett’s an asshole who’s not worth your time—so what the hell?”

  No way was Jack going to confide in Josh about his attraction to Elizabeth. Josh knew nothing about what their father had done, and so explaining why Jack couldn’t date her would be a problem. He could lie, but he took it as a point of pride that all these years, he’d refused to flat-out lie to anyone. Instead, he’d steadfastly refused to answer any questions at all concerning his rift with Bruce.

  “He was more of an asshole than usual,” Jack said. “And I’ve probably had more to drink than usual.” He saw that Elizabeth was watching him, frowning. Damn. She must have seen what happened. He tried to put a smile on his face as he clapped his brother’s back. “You go on and catch up with Hayley, and if you don’t mind, try to convince Troy that none of this happened, would you?”

  Josh grinned. “That none of what happened?”

  “Exactly,” Jack said. He watched his brother leave and then turned to Tom, who’d returned from paying the tab and had an expression indicating he was about to lecture Jack. “I know, I know,” he said, hoping to ward it off. “I messed up.”

  “Yeah, you did,” Tom said.

  “I couldn’t stand to hear him talk about her that way,” Jack said, looking again to Elizabeth. If she’d truly been “trashy” as Garrett said—well, she hadn’t had a father around to set her right, and whose fault was that?

  Now that he’d met her, all he wanted to do was protect her. To make things better. To make it right. He thought back to the previous day—how light his heart had been as they worked together stabling Honest Abe, how drawn to her he was in a way he’d never been drawn to a woman before. How time stood still while he kissed her.

  “Tom, I’m so confused about her that I can’t even think straight,” he confessed.

  “Geez, man. I’ve never seen you like this before. And you never did get around to telling me why she’s off limits.” Tom’s face was concerned. “But if you can’t think straight about her, maybe you should take a step back.”

  Just then, Elizabeth, who was now out from behind the bar and on her way to the stockroom, gave Jack an enticing smile and beckoned him to follow.

  He was utterly powerless to resist.

  “That’s not going to happen.” He started off toward her. “Not tonight, anyway.”

  Harmless flirting was an essential part of being a successful female bartender, especially in Alaska which had far more men than women, and to Elizabeth, getting hit on was just part of the job. The more she smiled and teased, the bigger her tips were, but her heart was seldom in it. That night, however, knowing Jack’s gaze was on her, she felt flirtatious.

  When he first came in with his friends, she’d been so busy that all she could manage was a quick wave, but she’d been counting the minutes until her break ever since. Jack was so handsome that his mere presence made the blood rush hot through her body. As she mixed drinks and poured pints, scooped up empty glasses and ran credit cards, all she could think about was Jack sitting at a nearby table. She thought about the muscular body beneath his clothes and nearly shivered from her desire to touch him—all over. She wanted to press delicate kisses on his chest. Run her nails down his back. Tangle her hands in his thick hair. Yes, indeed. She wanted to touch Jack everywhere and for him to do likewise to her. Her skin tingled at the mere thought of it.

  Every time their eyes met across the crowded space, Elizabeth felt another jolt of lust. By the time Mark Volkoff, her not-so-nice manager, arrived to relieve her for a short break, she knew that she couldn’t let the night pass without finding a way to talk with Jack.

  She stepped out from behind the bar and beckoned Jack to follow her. He started toward her, looking all tall and hunky and wide-shouldered in his flannel shirt and jeans. He was such a man—a man’s man—and he oozed masculinity from all the way across the room.

  He’s following, she realized. Her heart raced with both lust and trepidation.

  Without a word, she led him through a door marked “Employees Only” and into the stockroom.

  “Hey, Jack Barnes,” she said once they were alone together. “How’s my favorite firefighter?”

  He pulled her close for a hug. “Better now that I’m with you.”

  His touch was addicting, and as much as she didn’t want to pull away from his embrace, Elizabeth wanted to look into his chestnut-brown eyes and see his feelings reflected back in them.

  “What was going on out there?” she asked. “I saw you almost get into a fight.”

  “It was nothing,” he said. “Just a guy on the fire department who gets under my skin.”

  I’d like to get under your skin, she thought. Or more precisely, under your covers. Her body longed for his touch; she’d been thinking of little else since leaving his house the previous evening.

  “I’m glad you came in tonight,” she said.

  “Oh, yeah?” His smile was pleased. “Did you miss me?”

  She reached for his hand and squeezed it. “After the way you kissed me yesterday, how could I not?”

  He looked deep into her eyes before reaching around her to close the stockroom door, his body so close that her breasts brushed
up against his chest. She felt his breath hitch. The air between them felt superheated, rippling with tension.

  Jack swept a strand of hair off her forehead, leaving an electric tingle across her skin where his fingers had grazed her.

  “I’ve wanted to do that all night.” He cleared his throat. “To touch you, I mean. It didn’t necessarily have to be the hair.”

  She giggled. “Thanks for clarifying.”

  He, however, didn’t smile. In fact, his brows were furrowed and his brown eyes looked downright serious.

  “Do it again,” she said softly. “Touch me, I mean.” When he hesitated, she added teasingly, “It doesn’t have to be the hair.”

  This time, he planted the gentlest of kisses on her forehead. The warmth of his lips was wonderful, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Elizabeth wanted Jack’s lips all over her, and not just gentle but ravenous and demanding. A hot flush prickled her cheeks. I wonder if he can tell what I’m thinking. How turned on I am right now.

  He simply had to touch her more or she would feel achy and unfulfilled all night. Couldn’t he see that? Didn’t he feel the same?

  “How much time do you have for your break?” he asked.

  “Enough,” she said.

  “Good, because I can’t get you out of my mind,” he said.

  He moved one hand to the top button on her blouse, the one in between her breasts. Elizabeth trembled with anticipation. Would he do it? Would he unbutton her shirt right there in the stock room and encircle her nipples with his warm tongue? She licked her lips involuntarily at the very thought of his tongue exploring her body.

  But Jack leaned back, and she could see he was struggling with whether or not to act on the pounding sense of physical urgency between them. “Elizabeth, I’m not sure we should—.”

  Yes, Jack, she thought. We should.

  Her legs were shaking and her heart racing, and if he didn’t kiss her, she couldn’t bear it. The same must have been true for him because he tightened his hold on the fabric of her shirt and pulled her closer. She opened her lips for the kiss she knew was coming.

  Jack’s kiss came crashing down, a stark contrast from his gentleness of a minute ago, with the hot forcefulness she craved. She coiled her hands around his neck and gripped the base of his hair. Their tongues entwined, and their arms and bodies and hands, and Elizabeth was breathless and weak with the power of it.

  Somehow one of her legs ended up hooked around his waist, and then he leaned her up against a stack of beer cases. With a few quick unzips of clothing, he could be inside her, thrusting her to heavenly oblivion. She could hardly think for wanting him so bad, but as her fingers inched their way to the fly of his jeans, what did get through was the more sensible side of her that said she needed to stick with kissing and not let things go further than that.

  She was sure Jack could have any woman he wanted. She was sure he dated women much sexier and more sophisticated than her, and she didn’t want him to think of her as cheap. Elizabeth hadn’t forgotten the literally-knocked-flat feeling she’d gotten at his house, that odd and warming certainty that her destiny was to be his wife. She didn’t entirely trust it—not yet, anyway—but she didn’t want to give him the wrong idea about her. Under no circumstances did she want him to think of her as just a good-time girl.

  Such thoughts swam through Elizabeth’s mind but then were pushed aside by another rising tide, so very real and physical, generated by the feel of Jack’s strong hands running up her sides.

  Then he was unbuttoning her blouse, and she was reaching behind her back and unclasping her bra herself because she needed his hands on her breasts now, and it was only her shirt and she would stop it before it went too far.

  She shrugged out of her shirt and bra. The shirt fell to the floor, while the hot pink bra caught on the edge of a shelf and dangled there. The chill of the storeroom coupled with Elizabeth’s already-aroused state made her nipples perk to an aching hardness.

  For a breathless moment, Jack stood looking at her. His voice was low and guttural when he said, “You are exquisite, Elizabeth.”

  No one had ever called her exquisite before.

  Jack pulled off his shirt in one fluid motion and pulled her against him so they were skin-to-skin. She felt like she was melting into one with him. He had a perfect amount of thick chest hair that made him seem even more manly, more mature, more serious.

  With one hand he cupped her left breast, grazing his thumb across the peak, sending delightful shivers down to her core. They kissed again, hot and wet and urgent, and Jack hoisted Elizabeth up so that he held her straddled against him, both of his hands cradling her jeans-clad ass. She could feel the heat and thickness of his cock, straining against the fabric of his jeans, and the knowledge of how much he wanted her aroused her even more.

  Despite the mundane setting—the single bare lightbulb of the storeroom, the shelves lined with industrial-size cans and boxes of non-perishable food, the stained concrete floor, the noise and music of the bar pounding through the walls—the thrill of Jack’s touch elevated the space to something bright and magical. Elizabeth threw her head back as he kissed her throat, unable to help the small, soft expression of pleasure as his lips worked the delicate juncture of her jaw and neck. Please, she thought. Keep moving down.

  She was approaching a point at which she no longer trusted herself to stop.

  “Jack,” she murmured.

  “Mmm,” he said, his voice sending rumbles through her skin. He was now kissing her clavicle. The way he lifted her up, as if to him she was feather-light and precious, made Elizabeth want to surrender to her desire right then and there. To lower him onto the storeroom floor and slide her jeans off and his, too, and …

  “Jack.”

  He silenced her with another kiss on the lips, and Elizabeth let it go on until she felt her willpower stretched to its true limit.

  I want this man forever, she reminded herself. Not just for now.

  But it wasn’t Elizabeth who broke the kiss. It was Jack. Abruptly, he pulled away from her, set her down gently, and stepped back. The suddenness of his stopping felt like rejection. It embarrassed her, and she crossed her arms in front of her breasts. Inexplicably, she felt ashamed, even more so when she saw the troubled look in his eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “We shouldn’t be doing this,” he said.

  She’d been preparing herself to slow it down, but from the way Jack said it, she suspected he meant they shouldn’t do any of this. She hoped she was wrong. “You mean here in the storeroom?”

  “No, I mean I shouldn’t have even kissed you to begin with, and now—” Jack shook his head as if in disgust at something.

  It was like a punch to the gut. And there it is, that universe’s shoe coming down again. Come on, Elizabeth, you knew this was too good to be true.

  “Oh. I see.” She stepped away from him and felt the cold hard edge of the metal shelf behind her. “That’s fine. Whatever.”

  “Elizabeth …”

  Humiliated, she bent down and picked up her bra and shirt and pulled them on. She was unable to meet Jack’s eyes as her trembling hands fumbled with the clasp. She finally got it, hastily buttoned the blouse, and tried to leave, but he grabbed her wrist to stop her.

  “It’s okay. I get it,” she said, trying to hide the hurt in her voice. “I’m an Armstrong, and you’re a Barnes, and you come from the best of families and I come from the worst.” She was near tears. And so stupid. Why had she ever thought someone like him would be attracted to someone like her?

  She pulled away from his grip on her wrist. “I should have known better. I shouldn’t have brought over those stupid brownies and pushed myself on you. I won’t bother you anymore. I know I don’t deserve to be with a man like you.”

  “Elizabeth. Elizabeth, hey, whoa, slow down. You’ve got it all wrong.” Touching her chin gently, Jack tilted her face so she was forced to look into his eyes, which were earnest and tr
ue and full of pain. They were eyes she could have looked into for a lifetime, if only she had a different last name. “I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.”

  “It’s okay, Jack. I understand.” She managed to smile, false though it was. “I should get back to work. If you don’t mind waiting in here for a minute before coming out, no one will ever suspect you had anything to do with me.”

  “Elizabeth—”

  She handed him his shirt, trying not to look at his broad chest, trying not to think about what might have been. “Goodbye, Jack.”

  She snuck out of the stockroom, told herself to hold her head high, and reclaimed her spot behind the bar. When Jack emerged a few minutes later and tried to catch her eye, she pretended not to notice him.

  She appreciated that he’d tried to let her down easy—but still, he let her down.

  12

  The possibility of a relationship with Jack had given Elizabeth a reprieve from some of the less-pleasant aspects of her life. Since meeting him, she’d shed her outdated rocker vibe and gotten a mini-makeover that made her look not only her age but also feminine and sexy for a change. And because Jack was helping get her Bronco fixed and had helped Emmett avoid medical bills, her savings account was intact and she’d started looking in the course catalog for the community college with a mind to finally take those pre-nursing classes.

  The key, she realized the morning after Jack had blown her off, would be to keep up the momentum of bettering her life even without Jack in the picture. She needed to remember that it was his kindness—not just his sexiness—that had made her feel optimistic about life in general, and she had to hold onto that feeling no matter what.

  Or fake it until you make it, she told herself as she looked around her run-down house and tried to think where to begin. Her father was set to be released from prison in a few weeks, and she wanted his homecoming—to his actual home, anyway, since she couldn’t do anything about how the community would treat him—not to be disappointing. She didn’t want him to see how she and Emmett had struggled in his absence.