Ignite: An Everyday Heroes World Novel (The Everyday Heroes World)

by Kim Loraine

  I grab my phone from the charger and smile at a text alert on the screen.

  Sorry I left without saying goodbye. Didn’t want to wake you. Call me when you get this.

  I’ve never made a call so fast in my life. “Morning, sweetness,” I whisper as soon as she answers.

  “Morning.”

  “I’ve gotta get ready for work, but I wanted to hear your voice. Why’d you leave so quick? I could have given you a ride.”

  “It’s fine. I had some things I had to take care of and…didn’t want to overstay my welcome.”

  “You’re welcome in my bed any time.”

  She giggles and my dick gets hard all over again. Shit. “Call in sick and I’ll come back.”

  I chuckle. “No calling in sick. Horse needs tending, and I’ve got work to do. But I’ll see you soon. I promise.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  We hang up, and I smile wider than I have in close to a year. For the first time in a very long time, possibility glimmers on the horizon, and I feel something more than the cold empty ache I’ve lived with since my life imploded. Happiness.

  After a quick bite to eat and some coffee, I get dressed for my morning ride at the ranch. My twenty-four hour shift is gonna be hell if I can’t get Lark off my mind.

  That evening, my crew proves me right.

  “No, Ryker won’t come out with us. He’s too bloody old for bars. Can’t you tell?” Declan Byrne’s voice carries down the hall, making me grit my teeth.

  “He’s single. That’s reason enough for him to come out and find some company. “ Franklin comes to my defense, but I hate that the guys are talking about me like I’m some kind of damn charity case. I’m divorced, not dead. Sure, it’s been a while since I dated anyone, but that doesn’t mean they get to assume I’m going without getting my needs met. I’ve done the to have and to hold thing. I’m not going down that road again. Except…there’s Lark. Her soft moans replay in my head. Shit.

  I round the corner and toss a roll of paper towels at Franklin’s shiny bald head. “I’m not hurting for a bed to put my boots under, Frank. But the kind of places you two pick up women lead to two things, badge bunnies looking for wedding rings, and badge bunnies looking for wedding rings.”

  Byrne frowns. “That’s the same thing. I may be from England where public education is different, but didn’t they teach you basic maths in Montana?”

  “Very funny.” My words are a harsh grumble, but I’m done with the digs about my country upbringing. I spent my life on a ranch, in the middle of nowhere, Montana. I’m not ashamed of a damn thing. But still, they like to tease and poke fun. I’m sure Byrne is glad to have the spotlight off him. Being different in a close knit group comes with its own set of problems. It’s how things work when you’re the new guy at a firehouse. I just have to grin and bear it. Until someone else takes my place as newbie.

  “Come on, man, you’ve been here what, six months now? You haven’t come out with us once. Just have a beer, play some pool, maybe find a girl to take home for the night.” Franklin pulls two packs of ground beef from the fridge and sets them on the counter. “Besides, Declan’s probation period is over. We’ve gotta celebrate him getting rid of the yellow helmet and graduating to the black one.”

  Guilt swarms me, hitting me square in the chest. I remember vividly what it’s like graduating from probie status. I’m this kid’s lieutenant, I owe him one night out. “Fine. I’ll come for one drink.”

  “You hear that, Byrne? Lieutenant is gonna teach us all how to line dance tomorrow.”

  I swear to God, I’m going to punch Franklin before this shift is over. He opens the meat and throws it into a big pan, browning it for whatever he’s making for our supper. We take turns in the kitchen, and we’re all happy every time the rotation comes back around to Franklin. He’s good. His mom was a chef at some fancy restaurant in LA before she got a permanent judging spot on a reality show called Hot in the Kitchen. I’m all too familiar with reality shows.

  “I don’t line dance.”

  “What kind of cowboy are you?”

  I snort. “The real kind.”

  Franklin seasons the meat and transfers it to a pot of red sauce he’s had simmering since morning. Then he gives it all a good stir before transferring everything into a huge container and covering it.

  “It’s been real bloody quiet toda—“ Byrne says just as the alarm blares and the lights in the firehouse flash.

  “Dammit, Probie,” Franklin curses as he puts the sauce in the fridge and turns off the faucet that was filling a pot with water. “You know better than that.”

  The rest of the crew is already pulling on their turnouts as we join them, suiting up for a brush fire just off the highway.

  “It’s summer. Here we go.” Franklin shakes his head as he makes his way to his seat in the engine. He doesn’t have to say any more. We all know what he’s alluding to. The beginning of wildfire season.

  “I hope we don’t ever have to deal with anything as big as last year again. I don’t know how you did it, Ryker. You must have some tales to tell.”

  I shudder, remembering my time in Australia, fighting blazes that destroyed everything in their path. My friend Grady Malone recommended me for this position after we worked side-by-side to help save what we could.

  Nodding, I grit my teeth. “None of them are good.”

  I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I’m not the guy who shoots the shit about the bad things I’ve seen.

  Franklin flips on the lights and siren as we pull out of the garage bay and into the light traffic only offered by small town living. But when we get to the brush fire, we both realize it’s not just a fucking brush fire. It’s a full-on out of control blaze that’s run up the hill and is dangerously close to a neighborhood.

  “Fucking probie jinxed us.”

  I sigh. “Damn straight, he did.”

  By the time we get back to the house, all of us are dragging ass. We got the fire out with the help of another station, but fuck if it wasn’t exhausting.

  “At least no one got hurt?” Byrne says, the statement sounding more like a question.

  The guys all groan and wave him off. My stomach growls, hunger gnawing at me with a ferocity reserved for those days I used to work the ranch with my uncle and not come back until supper time.

  Franklin heads straight for the kitchen, getting the water on the stove to boil. He’ll have our food on the table in under twenty if he can. And the rest of the guys all step in to help. We function like a family, and maybe that’s one of the things I love about being a firefighter. My family has always been fucked up—with the exception of my uncle and aunt. At the firehouse, we’re brothers. We might fight and get annoyed with each other, but it works just like a ranch. We’re all in it together. One of us goes down, we all do. Even if I refuse to get close to them, I know each of them have my back when we walk into a fire. Just like I have theirs.

  In less than half an hour, we’re all seated around the big table, digging into spaghetti with meat sauce, garlic bread, and salad. It’s exactly what I need.

  My phone buzzes in the pocket of my pants, surprising me because I rarely get calls. It buzzes again, short and rhythmic. Not a call. A text.

  Pulling the phone from my pocket, I glance down and smirk.

  I can’t stop thinking about you. Just thought you should know.

  A curl of desire builds in my gut. I want Lark more than I want to take my next breath. I haven’t felt this way in a very long time.

  Same.

  I wait to see if she’ll respond, and my mouth runs dry when another text comes through.

  I’ve been thinking about our…arrangement. Can we make it a two-night stand?

  It isn’t the flirty text that does me in though. It’s the picture. A selfie of Lark in a tight little tank top, full tits molded to the fabric, smooth, bare arms with the exception of the fresh bandage on the scrape from the day before.

  Are
you kidding?

  Those little dots on the screen tease me as I wait for her response.

  You don’t want one more night?

  My smirk is uncontrollable at this point.

  “Oh, Ryker’s up to something over there,” Hartigan calls, his voice loud as he tosses a piece of garlic bread across the table at me.

  Shoving my phone in my pocket, I close off. This is private. I don’t want them to ruin it for me.

  “Leave him alone, Hartigan. We don’t give you a hard time about your mushy phone calls with your boyfriend.” Chief Long fills his fork with spaghetti.

  “That’s only because he sends everyone a growler of his latest brew every week.” Hartigan spoons up a second serving and chuckles. “I think if the beer wasn’t in the equation, I’d get teased about Carter as much as we fuck with the probie about his lack of girlfriend.”

  Declan sits up a little straighter. “Not probie anymore. Didn’t you hear? I’m a proper fireman now.”

  “Shit, you’re right. Now who’s on receptionist duty?”

  My phone vibrates against my hip and everything in me wants to see what Lark said. Instead, I ignore it with the strength of a stubborn mule. “Not it,” I say before taking a bite of my bread.

  After dinner, I finally get back to my bunk room and check my message.

  I’m sorry. I shouldn’t push.

  I told her I wasn’t a forever guy, but I can’t get her out of my system. I should leave it there, let her fade away. If I was a good man, that's what I’d do. But I’m selfish and hungry for another taste of her, so I type another text.

  I want every night you’ll give me.

  But guilt worms its way into my mind and instead of sending the message, I slowly hit the delete button until the screen is blank.

  Lark

  My feet pound the trail as I run up the hill in the early morning sunlight. Do I want to be running at five-thirty in the godforsaken morning? No. Not even a little. But if I don’t do it now, I won’t. That’s how my brain works. I’m a creature of habit, but I’m also easily distracted and can talk myself out of doing things that are good for me with very little persuading. I should be sleeping in on a Sunday morning like every single twenty-one year-old girl I know, but no, here I am, punishing myself for still being here. For surviving.

  It’s either this or self-destruct. The latter is what brought me to Silver Lake in the first place. I’d been prescribed a change of pace, a safe place to land, some normalcy. But normal was about as far away as it could be, and instead of getting better, I feel like I’m spiraling ever closer to getting worse.

  I reach the top of the hill and stop, staring out at the scenery around me. The sky is on fire, reds, purples, yellows, all splashed across the wide canvas. I have to admit, Northern Cali is beautiful in a way I didn’t appreciate until now.

  The rhythmic crunch of another jogger’s gait catches my ear, making panic chase away all of the calm I’d worked so hard to gain on my run. But I can’t control my body’s fight or flight response. No matter how hard I try. I back away from the edge and catch my heel on a rock, toppling to the dirt behind me.

  “Whoa, there. You okay?” That voice. That low gravelly rumble.

  Looking up, I see him, and my throat goes tight, but it’s not with the fear I’d been warring with. It’s desire, plain and simple. My cowboy holds out a hand, concern knitting his brows together.

  “It’s you,” I murmur like an absolute idiot.

  “And it’s you.”

  Piercing blue eyes pull me in like a moth to a flame. He helps me up, and I sigh at the feel of his skin on mine. He hadn’t texted me again after our exchange two days earlier. I wondered if he thought of me as a silly little girl who didn’t get the hint, but then, there had been playfulness in his earlier responses.

  “You keep rescuing me.”

  A slight smirk turns up his mouth. “What can I say? I have a thing for damsels in distress.”

  My cheeks heat as his gaze roams my form. I’m dressed in a pair of electric blue running shorts and a black cropped tank. My hair is pulled up in a high ponytail, and I don’t have a stitch of makeup on. Just some sunscreen. I always wear sunscreen—thanks, Mom.

  “You don’t look much like a cowboy today,” I say, taking in his black shorts and gray tank. He’s tan and his dark hair curls at the temples. In the sunlight, I notice the gray peppered through his locks. He’s gonna be a silver fox one day. That makes a wave of arousal tighten things low in my body.

  “You look like…” he runs his hand through his hair and trails off instead of finishing whatever he was saying.

  “I’m a mess.”

  “You look good to me.”

  A thrill runs up my spine. “There are usually not many people out here this early.”

  “Did I infringe on your territory?”

  I shrug. “A little.”

  “Well, don’t worry. I’m almost done.”

  “I’m not. I’ve got one more hill before I go back down.”

  He raises one brow. “You’re running that?” His gaze travels up to the top of the trail. It’s steep, but every time I climb it, I feel like a superhero.

  “Yep. Think you can handle it, old man?”

  A frown taking up residence on his face again, he scoffs. “I’ve climbed stairs steeper than that thing.”

  “I bet I can get to the top before you.”

  “And what do I get when I win?” He smiles, and I have to fight to not let excitement take over.

  “You get to buy me coffee.”

  A laugh fills the air, the sound exactly what I want to draw from him. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Trust me, it’s a privilege.”

  “Okay, and if you win?”

  “You get to buy me coffee.”

  Then I take off, running fast and hard up the path. He calls out after me and catches up quickly, but I don’t look back. The thrill of the chase is something I need right now. My heart pounds, my breaths loud in my ears, and when I reach the top, my lungs are burning. But I won. He’s standing behind me, breathing hard, hands on his knees.

  “I win.” My smile is bright, I’m sure.

  His warm laugh makes my chest tight. “Hope you’re willing to go to coffee with a sweaty cowboy, because that’s exactly what you’re getting.”

  “I’m willing to do a lot of things with a sweaty cowboy.”

  The heat in his gaze makes me wish I could kiss him right here and now, but his phone rings and he steps back, answering with a curt, “Hello?”

  His face goes stormy, eyes darkening as his brow furrows with frustration. He’s not amused by whatever he’s hearing. Putting some distance between us, he paces and the low murmur of his voice has me wondering exactly who’s on the phone.

  “You can’t be serious. You left. You.”

  My belly clenches at the fury in his words. Apprehension twists like a knife in my chest. This is her. The ex. I shouldn’t be here for this conversation. It feels like an intrusion, but in reality, he joined me up here. I didn’t insert myself into the situation.

  While his back is turned, I leave, jogging down the hill and building up to a full sprint as I make my way back down to my car. I hate driving. I’d much rather ride my bike, but that’s not an option now. Travis’ truck saw to that.

  I sit in my car, breathing heavily, chastising myself for wanting an emotionally unavailable man. Of course. That’s my MO. Travis is clearly still in the trenches of his divorce. He doesn’t have the bandwidth to give me anything. I’ve been through that before. Been the other woman before. Granted, that was in high school, but I don’t want to experience being someone’s rebound girl again.

  The rapping of knuckles on my window startles me, calling my attention to the man standing next to my car. Travis. His dark hair has fallen into his eyes, and he rakes it back, causing the tank he’s wearing to mold itself to his firmly muscled chest.

  I roll down my window and he bends at the waist, leaning
against my car. “Sorry about that. I…couldn’t let that call roll to voicemail.” He grins, that sexy mouth of his making me wish I could see what his lips taste like. “So…coffee?”

  Shaking my head, I sigh. “I can’t believe I’m doing this…but…no. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  Brows furrowed, he stares in confusion. “What?”

  “You’re clearly still in the middle of something. I don’t think you’re ready for me,” I admit.

  “Is that a challenge?”

  “No. It’s a fact.”

  He opens his mouth as though he might protest, but then stands up straight and crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s just coffee.”

  Is it? I’m not sure, not after the night we spent together. There’s something between us. A spark. A strike of a match about to light. We could turn into a blaze under the right conditions, or we could smolder and die down. It’s my choice.

  “Another time.”

  He winks, and that one small gesture makes my belly flip and the buzz of desire hum in my blood. “I’m going to hold you to that, Lark.”

  I don’t take my eyes off him as he walks away. He has a signature walk that I can only attribute to being a cowboy. But I don’t even know if he’s actually a real cowboy. He left his family’s ranch. Aren’t you a cowboy for life? Maybe he just has a thing for western style. Maybe he’s a Clint Eastwood fanboy. Maybe, just maybe, he’s exactly who I think he is. A rough and tumble rodeo king who knows how to use a rope and how to ride.

  Either way, he’s dangerous, because I like him, and I always like the wrong kind of guys.

  Travis

  I can’t stop thinking about Lark. I should. I really should put her out of my mind. She’s young, and even if she says our age difference isn’t an issue, I don’t know. At thirty-six, I’m not sure she’ll really want much to do with me once she realizes how much baggage fifteen years can accumulate. I’m more than a little aware there are plenty of younger guys for her to have her pick of. But, fuck if she hasn’t carved out a place in my head and stayed there no matter how hard I try to push her out.