His Firecracker: Sassy Girls Series

by Reynolds, Rory

  “Could you maybe not rip open your incision being a brat?”

  “But you’re so fun to tease.” She pouts.

  I grab my folded laundry and leave the room without a word. Time for another cold shower and to get ready to see my girl.

  * * *

  “Coming!” Joselynn’s voice comes through the door from somewhere in her small apartment.

  Not yet, but soon, I think.

  I’m a little surprised when I hear not only one, but five locks disengage before she opens the door. That seems a little excessive for someone who lives in a building with decent security. I can’t say I’m upset that she has the added layer of protection, but I can’t help wondering what made her feel the need to have the extra locks.

  And then Joselynn is in my arms pressing her sexy little body against me and kissing me sweetly, and I can’t think of anything but the taste of her lips and the citrusy smell of her skin.

  “Hello, you,” she says, slightly breathless.

  “Well, hello to you too. Remind me to visit more often if this is going to be my greeting.”

  She rises up to her tiptoes again and kisses me hungrily. I match each stroke of her tongue with a hungry one of my own. God, she’s sweet. Something buzzes from the kitchen, and she jumps.

  “Oops! Dinner’s ready. Come in, make yourself at home. Give me a second, and I’ll give you a tour.” She hustles toward the buzzing sound. I follow along behind her slowly, taking in her space for the first time.

  The walls are painted a nice neutral shade of light gray. There is a large window with what looks like a reading nook set up to one side, the chair arranged so that it gets perfect light from the window. She has a small couch, just big enough for two across from a small TV that is mounted on the wall. It’s clear that TV is not a priority in her house when I see the large bookshelves on either side of the TV. They go from floor to ceiling and are jam-packed with hundreds of books.

  The apartment is an open floor plan so I can easily see her in the kitchen from where I’m standing. She’s stirring something on the stove while quietly talking to herself. It’s absolutely adorable. While spending time with her in the nursery those first two days, I noticed that she likes to talk her way through tasks as if she will forget a step. In almost anyone else, it would be annoying, but for her, it’s just a quirk that lets me hear what’s on her mind. And I always want to know what she’s thinking about, so it works out perfectly.

  Unable to help myself, I close the distance between us and wrap my arms around her from behind. She tenses for a moment but relaxes back into me, I reward her with a kiss on the side of her neck.

  “Smells delicious.”

  “Thanks, it’s nothing fancy… just lasagna and salad.”

  My mouth practically waters. “Lasagna is my favorite. My mom used to make it every Sunday.”

  Joselynn rewards me with a smile. “Lasagna is my favorite too. Probably why it’s one of the few things I can cook,” she says with a self-deprecating laugh. “Let’s eat!”

  It’s then that I notice the little two-seater table all set up. There is a bouquet of flowers in the middle of the table, at least two dozen pink roses and lilies. I set the salad down on the table and notice a card leaning against the vase. Instantly I see red when I read it. I miss you.

  I-mother-fucking-miss-you.

  Who the hell is sending my woman flowers and telling her he misses her? Is it that douche back Givens or that pretty boy Chance?

  I look up at Joselynn, her lips are turned down in a frown, and her forehead is wrinkled in worry. It’s then I realize that I’ve crumpled the card in my fist. She takes the card from my hand and smooths it out.

  “Are you okay?” she asks.

  “No, I’m really not. Who the fuck is sending you flowers? Are you seeing someone else?” My hands go to my head, and I turn, unable to face her. “I’m sorry. I don’t like the idea of sharing you.”

  I know I don’t deserve her. She’s been incredibly accepting of my scars, but she’s a beautiful woman who has a lot of admirers. She could have her choice of any man she wanted. I was just hoping that she’d choose me.

  Not for the first time I curse the day that IED blew up in my face, literally. I’ve gotten over wishing I would have died that day. A lot of hours of therapy and being verbally slapped upside the head by Blake and Hutch shook me out of the worst of my depression. And these last couple of weeks with Joselynn have sparked new life within me. She’s given me new purpose.

  Joselynn is silent for several long minutes, and I turn to face her. I instantly regret losing my temper because she is white as a ghost and frozen in place.

  “Goddamn it,” I curse to myself. “I’m sorry, beautiful. You know I’d never hurt you.”

  I walk toward her slowly, cautiously, but she doesn’t move a muscle. She stares at some point in the distance, completely blank. When she doesn’t protest my nearness, I pull her into my arms. She stands in my arms completely unresponsive.

  “Joselynn, baby?”

  9

  Joselynn

  He found me.

  He found me.

  Oh, God, he found me.

  It repeats like a broken record in my head while I stand paralyzed in my kitchen. Drake thinks I’m upset with him. The look on his face when he asked if I was seeing someone else was crushing. I could see the exact moment when Drake imagined some fictional adversary. I know he pictured someone like Chance—perfectly handsome and untarnished by war.

  Even though I’ve not shied away from his scars and have openly defended him when others whisper or judge him for them, I know he’s waiting for me to reject him because of them. It’ll take time for him to trust that I see beyond his scars. If he could see beneath my skin, he’d see that I’m just as scarred by my past as he is from his.

  “Joselynn, baby?” His cautious tone snaps me out of my stupor.

  “I’m okay…” I take a steadying breath and step away from Drake pasting a bright smile on my face. The mask I’ve worked so hard at wearing for years feels unsettling. I hate wearing it in front of Drake, and I know he sees through it. I’m not sure why I’m hiding my true feelings… except that maybe if I pretend hard enough, the fact that I’m going to have to run again won’t actually be the truth.

  Why now? It’s been three years! Why now when I’ve finally found something I want more than anything else? It’s not fair.

  Buck up buttercup. These are the cards you’ve been dealt. You’ll enjoy dinner with a man that you are halfway in love with—if not all the way—and then you’ll call Kieffer and let him know what’s happening. He’ll know what to do.

  It’s not time to run yet…

  The fact that I’m not already out the door and on my way to my hidden car says just how very much I don’t want to leave. I want this life I’ve carved out for myself. I want my adopted family with the O’Neals. I want the job I love. And most of all I want Drake. I want the potential future that Drake represents.

  “You’re not okay. Tell me what’s wrong.” Drake pushes like I knew he would, but I brush him off with a wave of my hand.

  “Let’s eat before dinner gets cold.”

  The last thing I want to do is eat. I feel like I’m going to be sick. I dish out a big slice of lasagna for both of us while Drake puts salad on our plates. For the first time, the silence between us is awkward and fraught with the words I can’t make myself say. The sexual tension that is always bubbling between us is absent. I hate it.

  I can tell he wants to ask me questions. In fact, every time he opens his mouth to speak, I quickly shovel another bite into my mouth. One of the things we talked about during one of our many late-night phone calls was our pet peeves. One of my biggest is being asked questions after I’ve just taken a bite of food. I hate talking with my mouth full, so I always end up feeling like I need to chew extra fast and swallow in a rush.

  I hate it.

  I love that Drake listened to me. Right now, I appre
ciate it more than ever since I desperately don’t want to have a conversation about my past. I don’t want to see the judgment—or worse, pity—on his face. That would sour things between us, and the thought makes me want to cry.

  Not to mention the fact that I really don’t want to drag him into it. Frankie and his men are dangerous. Drake isn’t the kind of man to sit by and let me feel threatened. And I have a feeling that he will not be happy to find out that my plan is always to run if I’m found.

  Before I know it, my plate is empty, and my dinner is sitting like a boulder in my stomach. Worst of all—there are no more excuses to not talk.

  It’s time to pay the piper.

  “Will you please tell me what’s wrong?”

  I close my eyes slumping in my chair. “I thought the flowers and cards were from you.”

  Drake looks confused for a moment. As if he’s trying to figure out why that miscommunication would cause such a reaction from me. “You thought I sent them?”

  I blush at that because it was an assumption and it was wrong. “I mean, yeah. You’re the only man in my life…”

  The storm cloud lifts slightly from Drake’s eyes. “Were none of the cards signed?”

  I shake my head. “No. I mean… I wasn’t completely off base assuming they were from you. Who else would send me flowers and sweet cards?”

  Who indeed?

  “Maybe Chance,” he guesses, looking upset at the idea.

  I hate to see the look on his face when he finds out who it really sent them. I’m guessing there will be a whole lot of pissed off on that handsome face of his.

  “Chance won’t even talk to me these days.”

  Not that I would admit it out loud, but that hurts. Chance is part of this new life of mine. I thought we were friends, and now I’m finding out that he was just trying to date me. I hate that even one small piece of the life I’ve created is strained. I love having a life where more often than not, I don’t feel the need to look over my shoulder.

  And now my peaceful existence has been turned on its head—again.

  …But what if the flowers are from Chance or even the creeper Dr. Givens? Maybe I’m once again jumping to conclusions.

  Every time that Frankie has found me in the past he’s gone straight on the attack. After that first time, he hasn’t tried tormenting me. Just finds me and tries to capture me. Flowers and cards are a little innocuous for his usual style. I resolve to ask Givens and Chance both tomorrow. If neither of them confesses, I’ll call Kieffer.

  “I don’t know who it could be,” I say with a shrug, the lie tasting like ash in my mouth.

  Once upon a time, I was a horrible liar. My palms would sweat, and my eyes would get all shifty, but now lies slide off my tongue like butter. I hate lying to Drake. It feels so wrong and yet, my entire life is one big lie, so what’s one more in the grand scheme of things?

  “Why were you scared when you realized I didn’t send the flowers?”

  “I—” There is no way to answer this question without either telling him the truth or lying through my teeth, and I don’t want to do either.

  “I just want you to know I would never hurt you. Ever.” Drake reaches across the table and grabs ahold of my hand. “I know you’ve been hurt in the past,” I flinch when he correctly guesses the truth of things, “and you don’t have to talk about it, yet. We have all the time in the world to learn about each other. But please know that I will never raise a hand to you in anger. You can trust me.”

  I don’t even realize I’m crying and shaking until Drake lifts me from my chair and pulls me into his arms. He always says the most perfect things. Strangely enough, even though we just met, I do trust him. Things between us have happened so quickly, but it feels right.

  Please, please let my secret admirer be Chance, I pray to anyone who is listening.

  I don’t want my blossoming relationship with Drake to be over before it can even really begin.

  Drake holds me close while I cry, running his fingers through my hair and whispering soothing things. He lifts me and carries me to the couch; he sits down with me on his lap and continues to hold me until I cry myself out. We sit cuddled like that for a long time. Neither of us speaking. It’s exactly what I need.

  Slowly, my mind stops catastrophizing the situation. Things aren’t the same as when I first ran. I have Kieffer on my side now, and he will fix things if they need fixing. I have to believe that. My life is too perfect to have to lose everything now.

  10

  Drake

  Joselynn cried herself to sleep in my arms. Every single tear was a dagger to my heart. She didn’t open up to me about her past but letting me comfort her while she cried over it was a huge step. My firecracker doesn’t like to be vulnerable, and she allowed herself to be vulnerable with me.

  I’m still not sure what caused her to have such an extreme reaction to finding out the flowers weren’t from me. At first, I assumed it was because I lost my temper. Maybe that’s part of it, but not the whole reason. There’s something else going on that I can’t even guess at. I wanted to push her to tell me everything. To release her burdens and let me help, but that isn’t what she needs right now.

  She needs comfort and to feel safe and secure. All of those things I’m more than happy to provide. There will be time enough later to learn her secrets. For now, I’m content to hold her in my arms and stew about who the fuck sent the flowers. Whoever it is, obviously isn’t on Joselynn’s radar since she assumed I was the one who sent them. And if that doesn’t just piss me off. I should be the one to send her flowers and notes telling her that I miss her. The fact is, I haven’t had a real relationship since junior year of high school.

  Tricia Larsen was a cheerleader and all-around popular. I was the quarterback. Super cliché, I know. We dated for six months. I’m thirty-six years old and haven’t had a serious girlfriend since I was seventeen. I have no clue how to be a boyfriend. I decide here and now that I’ll do everything in my power to show Joselynn how I feel and to treat her like the queen that she is.

  Joselynn shifts on my lap trying to get comfortable, and I feel like a dick for not putting her to bed sooner. She’s been working herself into the ground with extra shifts—thankfully the flu seems to have passed, and things should get back to normal for her in that regard. I carry her to her bedroom and lay her on the bed. When I press a kiss to her forehead, she wraps her arms around my neck and mumbles something about pandas and bubble gum.

  I carefully unwrap her arms, trying not to wake her and step away from the bed. I hate leaving her without telling her, especially after what happened tonight. I decide that I’ll just sleep on the couch, then I’ll be here when she wakes up.

  “Are you leaving?” her soft voice calls out in the semi-darkness.

  “I was going to go sleep on the couch,” I say with a shrug hoping that she doesn’t freak out that I planned to sleep over without her permission. “Didn’t seem right to leave without you knowing and I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “I don’t want you to leave me.” Her confession is whisper soft.

  “I’ll just be in the other room, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”

  With a little shake of her head, she scoots over on the bed then pats the newly empty space. “Lay with me?”

  Joselynn is temptation personified. I want nothing more than to crawl into that bed with her. My errant cock wholeheartedly agrees. The very thought of having her warm curves curled against me all night has me hard enough I could punch steel. Sleeping next to her and not touching her will be a torturous test of my self-control.

  “Please?” The soft vulnerability in that one word is my undoing. I can deny this woman nothing.

  I take off my shoes and settle down on the bed. As soon as I’ve relaxed into the pillows, Joselynn erases the small distance between us. She curls up against me, her arm thrown over my stomach and her head resting against my chest. She feels like absolute perfection.

 
Joselynn shifts for the fourth time in as many minutes, making a frustrated little sound. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she says quickly.

  “Then why are you wiggling around like you have ants in your pants?”

  She flops over onto her back, and I immediately miss the soft weight of her body against mine. “I can’t sleep.”

  I chuckle at her dramatics. “Obviously. Is it me?”

  She snorts derisively. “No, it’s my clothes. I can’t sleep in jeans.”

  “Get comfortable, firecracker.”

  I nearly swallow my tongue when she stands up and slowly strips off her jeans. She’s not doing it in a sexy way, but that doesn’t seem to matter to my cock. The damn thing is so hard it aches. Joselynn gives her hips a little shake as she wriggles out of the skin-tight material. Can I just say thank you to whoever created skinny jeans? Because right now I’m in heaven watching my girl shimmy out of hers. I’m almost sad when the jeans are off, and she’s standing before me in just her t-shirt and panties. Her little nose scrunches up in consternation as if something else is bothering her.

  “What’s wrong now?” I ask.

  “Aren’t you uncomfortable?”

  Oh, sweet baby Jesus she is talking about me taking off my clothes. Such a terrible, horrible, fantastic idea. One that I absolutely cannot follow through on. The barrier will remind me to keep my dick in my pants. She doesn’t need me pawing all over her tonight. “I’m fine. Let’s get some rest.”

  Joselynn shrugs then crawls back into bed, wrapping her body around mine. She fits perfectly against me as I knew she would. Within moments, she’s asleep. I don’t expect to be able to fall asleep myself, but the quiet of the apartment and the woman in my arms has me more relaxed than I’ve been in ages and I find myself drifting off.