“What’s that?” he asked, pointing at the Alphasmart.
“This,” her hand caressed the keyboard, “Is a real live dinosaur. Strictly a word processor. You might call them the first laptops, except that you would be wrong.”
“Huh.” He leaned across the counter, big forearms straining, pecs practically ripping through the shirt. “Okay. I’m ready. Shoot.”
She swallowed hard, a little overcome with all the muscles. “Relax. It’s not an interrogation. Just tell me a little bit about yourself.”
She listened as Scott talked about his family. She learned about his brother Wallace, the contractor who was married to Gen, and of course quite some time was spent on his brother Billy, the former star pitcher for the Oakland Sliders. He skillfully moved into talking up his brother’s vineyard, and then mentioned his mother’s remarriage to a restaurant owner in town who was several years her junior. Talked about his stepsister, Sophia, and not surprisingly he sounded like an overprotective big brother.
“Fascinating stuff. But I wanted to hear about you. Do you realize you haven’t told me one thing about yourself?”
He made a face. “What? Not possible.”
“Is it really so difficult to talk about yourself?”
“Not at all,” he said as he pulled out a beer from the fridge and twisted off the top. “I’m a regular narcissist. Let’s talk about me. I like long walks along the beach, getting caught in the rain, and long deep kisses that last for two days.”
Her palms broke out in a sweat. “You cheated. I think that’s a song. Or it’s in a movie. Maybe both.”
“Is it?” He eyed her as he took a swig of his beer, then set it on the counter. “Why aren’t you writing any of this down?”
She typed into her Alphasmart, file two: Has trouble talking about himself. Might have deep-seeded personal issues.
“What do you think people who buy this calendar want to read about?” He grinned. “Because there’s more where that came from.”
“I think readers would appreciate your honesty. You’re ex-military—”
“Yeah, not talking about it.”
“Right. So, you don’t like wine?” She threw a look at his beer, trying to change the subject and get him to talk about himself even in some small way.
“I’ve always been more of a beer guy. Wallace and Billy like a good scotch. Billy didn’t even much care for wine when he bought the vineyard. He bought it for Pop, our grandfather, who helped raise us. Now, Pop’s the wino. So is Brooke, of course. And Billy has acquired a taste for it. Not coincidentally about the same time he acquired a taste for Brooke.”
Progress. There was at least some information about Scott in there. He liked beer, and not wine. “Even when you do talk about yourself, you manage to include your family.”
He lifted a shoulder. “So?”
She managed to relax enough to lower her shoulders below her ears and took another sip of her wine. “I get it. I’m close to my sister. And Gran, of course.”
“Not your mom or dad?”
“My parents are divorced. My mom owns a bridal boutique and Mandy does the books.”
“And your dad?”
She shrugged. “I hear he’s doing fine.”
“I didn’t have a dad growing up, so my brothers pretty much raised me. Especially Wallace.”
“Really? What did he do?”
“I got into a little trouble as a teenager, and he strongly encouraged me to stop.”
“And?” It was like pulling teeth with this guy. Just when he started talking he’d stop.
“And he encouraged me to join the military. It was a good fit, and Wallace knew it would be. My mother was generally happy with the outcome.” He took another swig of his beer.
“I’ll bet.”
“I’m not telling you anything people don’t already know about me. They’re kind enough not to talk about it. It’s in the past. Why rehash it?”
“So what made you decide to be a firefighter?”
“I got tired of guns.” He moved towards her. “You should really talk to Ben. He’s a fifty-six-year-old firefighter and he and his wife have been foster parents to about twenty children.”
“Seriously?”
“The man’s practically a saint.” He set his beer down on the counter. “And I’m not.”
He was so close now that he might see her note about his possible personal issues, so she shut the Alphasmart off. She swiveled the stool towards him. “Point taken. Sounds good. Maybe I’ll interview him at the photo shoot.”
“I can’t read what you’ve written?” He reached, bumping into her.
“Um, no. Sorry. Not yet. Of course you’ll read the final copy. Not that you’ll get to approve it or anything.” She moved her Alphasmart further away from him.
Now she had butterflies in her stomach because he was so close. Seriously? I’m not sixteen anymore. I need to get a hold of myself.
“There’s one more thing you should know about me. It’s kind of private.” His index finger ran the length of her face, and tucked a stray hair behind her ear.
Her special parts started to sing ‘Ave Maria.’ “Oh yeah? Tell me.”
“I like you. A lot.”
Her heart moved to her throat, beating like a hummingbird’s wings. “Thanks. I try hard to be approachable.” What the hell am I saying to the man? Did I forget how to make conversation with a guy?
He leaned closer and the surge of lust spread all the way to her toes. He was going to kiss her and she might, apparently, let him. It certainly began to look that way. It all seemed so easy for him, the way he gracefully leaned in and took up all the space between them.
He removed her glasses and set them on the counter. “Your eyes— they’re so beautiful.”
No one ever called her beautiful, not even Bradley. He said she was ‘striking’ which sounded more like a baseball term than a compliment. Mandy said Diana could choose to highlight her assets or hide them. So far, hiding them had worked. The minute she’d chosen to get a little crazy for a minute alone, look what had happened. She’d been in a fire.
Scott didn’t kiss her, but bent down and sucked in her earlobe. She gasped, her hand fisting his shirt. When he let her earlobe go, he lightly tugged at it. Then he leaned in and kissed her lips with a kiss both gentle and at the same time wildly possessive. Firm. Demanding. This is what his lips feel like on mine. He wasn’t giving an inch, but moving in to take, possess. Without another thought she opened up to him, the one man who reminded her of how she’d struggled to fit in as a teen. How she’d failed to connect, too caught up in her own little imaginary world. He was just the kind of mistake she should resist and walk away from without a backwards glance.
But maybe later.
Both hands now fisted his t-shirt and she pulled him even closer. The kiss got a little wild, and she was pulled out of the chair and into his arms. She touched him everywhere, the way she’d wanted to do since first laying eyes on him in the emergency room—her fingers trailing along those rock solid hard arms, rising up to thread through his soft hair. His hands were on her ass, pulling her even closer where she felt his hardness. She had the sense of being moved—and kind of hoped towards the bedroom.
But yes, she agreed, the bedroom was too far away. She was up against a wall before she knew what had happened, his glorious warm tongue trailing down the column of her neck. His warm hands were underneath her skirt, caressing her ass. But this was too crazy, too out of control and not at all what she’d come here to do. She was in town to take care of a grandmother that didn’t need taking care of, bring down a video that had gone viral, interview a firefighter that wouldn’t talk about himself, and lose ten pounds without cutting off a body part. Not to mention write the article, which meant she’d sooner or later have to get a word down. Gran would be waiting at home for Diana right now, maybe curious about the interview. The last kind of behavior she’d expect from Diana would be for her to be a few blocks down th
e street at Scott’s house about to be nailed to the wall.
A loud rapping sound came from Scott’s front door. He broke the kiss and they both stilled. The sound was far more pound than knock, relentless and unstoppable. Urgent.
Scott let her go and looked through his peephole. He groaned. “It’s my neighbor, Sally.”
Diana reached for her glasses on the counter and slipped them back on.
Scott raked a hand through his hair and paced the entryway. “A cup of flour, half a cup of milk, one tablespoon of sugar—”
“What are you doing?”
“Reciting Gen’s recipe for pancakes.”
“Why?” She dropped her gaze and gaped at the impressive tent in his jeans. “Oh, no. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Look, you get the door. I have to get my medical bag anyway, and I need a minute.”
“But—”
He’d already left the room. Diana opened the door and a frazzled looking woman with eyes shifted to full-tilt panic mode held a little boy in her arms.
“I need Scott! Is he here?” Sally shouted, shoving past Diana.
The little boy was wheezing, his face pink and contorted with the effort. Diana had seen this once before in the third grade, when it had happened to one of her classmates. A full blown asthma attack.
“Is he going to be okay?”
“He needs a breathing treatment. The inhaler didn’t work.” She squatted on the floor with her boy in her arms. “It’s okay, baby. Scott will help you.”
Diana was about to tell her that Scott would be right back when he rushed into the room.
“Hey, Trent. Let’s give you some of your favorite superhero’s special oxygen.” He kneeled next to the little boy with a small machine and a mask which he carefully placed over Trent’s mouth.
Diana stood back, entranced, never having seen the man in action other than video of the night of her rescue. According to the ones she’d seen, he’d had the same clear determination in his eyes as he did now. He might have been the only one, but he hadn’t cared what she’d been wearing that night, just that she would survive the fire. Her humiliation had blinded her until now, but watching him in action it was clear.
She didn’t know how he did it, how he remained so collected while Sally freaked out and Diana fast approached the freak-out zone. It became difficult to watch the child struggle to breathe, but Scott remained calm. Before long he had the little boy breathing evenly. A light mist hissed out of the machine and whatever it had in it was what Trent needed. The entire time, Scott spoke soft and encouraging words to the little boy, and Diana’s heart melted a little bit, watching this big bulky man kneeling next to someone so small and helpless.
After a few more minutes, Scott removed the mask. The boy seemed fine, and cuddled into his mother with a shy smile, high-fiving Scott. He walked them to the door, accepting a hug from Sally. Finally, the door shut and he turned back to Diana.
He smiled and moved towards her. “Where were we?”
No, this wasn’t the Scott she remembered. That boy didn’t seem to care much about other people as far as she could tell. But the man was another story. “You were so good with him.”
“It happens once every few months. His asthma isn’t well controlled.” Scott was so close to her now, and when his hands slid up her arms and pulled her in, she could admit—at least to herself—that this was what she wanted. Scott, right here, right now. The idea petrified her. She didn’t understand who he was any longer, or even who she was. She wasn’t the kind of girl who’d make out with someone she didn’t know well. Bradley was her first everything and she’d never moved beyond him.
Scott kissed her again and again, and like a fool she let him. It was so good—he was so good at this kissing thing he should get a special commendation.
Look, you can’t do this. Stop it right now. Are you listening, Diana? This is your heart speaking to you! We are so not ready for him.
She forced herself to pull away, breathless. “Scott?”
“Yeah?” He stopped kissing the hollow point in her neck to look at her.
“I know this would be good—”
“No,” he interrupted. “It would be off the charts.”
She believed him. “But maybe we should, um, slow things down.”
“Maybe.” He nuzzled her neck.
“I do like the way you kiss.”
“Right back at you.”
“But— I think we should stop now. It’s all going a little fast for me.”
“Yeah,” he said, the bedroom look in his eyes slowly shifting back to kitchen mode. He slowly released her. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“I didn’t mean to scare you off.”
“It’s all right.” She bit at the cuticle of her nail. Probably not the most attractive move, but she couldn’t help the nervous habit. And he didn’t just make her nervous. He terrified her. “It’s just— before I came here, I’d been in a serious relationship that didn’t work out. And right now, I’m not ready… plus, you know I’m going back home at the end of the summer. Maybe it doesn’t make sense, you know, to …”
“You don’t have to say anything more, babe.” He tugged on a lock of her hair.
Not quite fair that he was being so good, letting her off the hook like this. It almost pissed her off a little bit. “I should probably be off men for a while.”
He winced. “Yeah?”
“Might be a good idea.” She grabbed her things before she changed her mind. “I’ve got a good start here on your interview.”
Scott’s deep voice stopped her in her tracks. “Wait.”
At the door, she turned back. “What?”
“You and me? Anytime you’re ready. Anytime.”
She stood there for a moment, acknowledging both the overt truth and flattery of those words. Then she flew out the door and ran most of the way back to Gran’s. She was a little out of breath this time, though for different reasons.
Gran was still up and waiting for her, standing in the kitchen in her housecoat. “I was just about to get to bed. Mandy called to check in on me. When I told her where you were, she said she’d talk to you tomorrow.”
“Okay. I think I’ll go in my room and put all my notes together.” And my wits. And whatever brain cells I have left.
“You look flushed, dear. Are you feeling okay?”
Diana touched her cheeks. “I ran all the way back.”
“In those shoes?” Gran clucked her mouth disapprovingly.
Diana went into her bedroom, lay down on the bed and tried to take a deep cleansing breath. She’d probably never been kissed quite like she had been tonight in her entire sad and boring life. Bradley was such a wet kisser she might as well have been a sponge. He always asked if he could kiss her too, probably because he wasn’t all that great at reading social cues. It was sweet but also not sexy. Scott read social cues extremely well. He was smart enough to know he didn’t have to ask.
But she was an idiot.
She should have put up more walls, barriers, trenches, moats. She’d done fine when she’d first met him, holding on to her teenage bitterness, but he’d knocked down her few walls in no time at all. Too easy. She was supposed to be much tougher than this. Now she had more than one problem. How on earth was she supposed to write this article about real people? Fictional characters couldn’t get their feelings hurt no matter what she wrote about them.
A couple of years ago that was where her heart had been. She’d written her first novel during her MFA program, about a teenage girl growing up in Texas during World War II. She hadn’t thought about the book in a long time. Tried not to, anyway.
Not since she’d pitched it at a writers conference in New York City a year after graduation and had the agent of a major literary agency draw two circles on a pad of paper. One circle was the market, and the other teeny tiny circle way on the other side of the paper was her ‘lovely’ coming-of-age story. Then she’d patted Diana’
s hand and told her to find another line of work.
Diana had burst into tears and ran into the men’s bathroom by accident. What was she supposed to do with the rest of her life if she couldn’t be a writer? A man dressed in a tweed suit had found her crying near the urinal, and suggested she grow a pair of balls. Not because she was in the men’s room (as he proceeded to kindly inform her) but because no one had the right to tell anyone else to give up on their dreams.
Mr. Tweed had been right.
Ever since she’d left that men’s room in New York City, she’d been trying to find her metaphorical testicles. Because no one would tell her what she could and couldn’t do.
Certainly not Bradley. He’d reminded her that she was an MFA graduate working in her mom’s bridal boutique. Neither publishers nor agents were exactly breaking down her door to get at her manuscript. She wasn’t going to be the next big ‘literary darling’. Face it, Bradley had said, and get a real job. Stop dreaming. When she’d reminded him of how she’d supported him through DeVry school so that he could become the next big tech mogul (which, she reminded him, he’d also failed to do) he’d found someone new.
It didn’t matter anymore. She hoped Bradley and Tiffany would be very happy someday in their Silicon Valley home with their Silicon Valley peeps.
As for her, she had to remember how to write about real people. Fast.
Chapter 7
Saturday, Diana was up early and ready to attend the calendar shoot at the vineyard. She’d spent a few hours on her phone researching questions she might ask the firefighters and had a list ready. Hopefully, most of them would be easier to talk to than Scott had been. Either way, she’d looked forward to this. Having already felt Scott’s hard body up close and personal, she would now get a chance to see more of it.
Gran seemed shocked by the idea of the beefcake calendar, and said she’d pass on Diana’s offer to come along. Genevieve was expected by for a visit anyway, and Gran didn’t want to miss her. An hour before Diana was to leave, there was a knock on the front door and Diana went to open it.
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