Burning Up (Flirting With Fire Book 1)

by Jennifer Blackwood

  To his surprise, she picked a local country station that was already on Jake’s presets. He wouldn’t have pegged her for a country fan, but then again, the woman sitting next to him was not the same person he had grown up with.

  After a few minutes of listening to George Strait and Reba, Erin splayed a hand over her tanned thigh. “So nice to get out of there for the weekend.”

  “Haven’t you only been in town two days?”

  “You have met my mother, right?” She smiled and shook her head. “I think she’s just getting a little antsy because she doesn’t have any grandchildren yet.”

  He laughed. “Word of advice: once you start, they just keep asking for more.” Even though he’d never married, his mother still asked when he’d give her another granddaughter. He loved the close-knit community his family had built. When he had been growing up, he’d never felt lonely because there had always been someone to throw a ball with. Someone to run around downtown with. Someone to get in trouble with. He wanted that for Bailey but had never found the right woman—or had stopped trying a long time ago.

  A long stretch of silence passed that tripped Jake up on his momentum. It was easy talking to her once they found a rhythm, but right now it was as erratic as an EKG during a heart attack.

  Erin’s muscles in her toned legs flexed as she bobbed her knees. Nervous. She was just as nervous as he was, he decided. Asking her along had seemed like a sensible choice at the time, but what was he supposed to do with her all weekend when he wasn’t busy running errands for his sister? He’d hung out with her brother all these years, not Erin. And then there’d be a million questions from Bailey. Maybe he really would have been better off going with his mother’s neighbor.

  This was a bad idea. A code 10-50 bad.

  More awkward silence.

  Jake made the swooping loop, entering the interstate. Talk. You’ve done it before. One word after another. Before he could say anything, a semitruck moved into his lane without a signal, and Jake had to cut a hard right in order to avoid colliding with ten thousand pounds of metal. Erin squeaked, fumbling her phone. It bounced off the center console and landed somewhere near his feet.

  He righted the car, his heart pounding. “Sorry about that,” he said. Worrying about the damn weekend wouldn’t do him any good if he and Erin were pancaked into US-26.

  “Who needs coffee when adrenaline amps up your heart rate?” She let out a nervous laugh. She shifted in her seat, peering around the truck. “Huh. Where did my phone go?”

  “By my feet.”

  “Here. Let me get it before it slides under your pedals.” She reached over, gripping the armrest between them, fishing for her phone. Her hair splayed across his jeans as she pawed around. Jake kept his eyes on the road instead of the view that would surely be seared into his brain for the next year. Lush fir trees, the sun peeking over Mount Hood. Yes, if he focused on the top of the ski run, he could effectively shut her out.

  “Of course it’s all the way in the corner.” She unhooked her seat belt, bent over even farther, this time gripping Jake’s leg for support. Her red nails bit into the fabric of his pants, and she let out a tiny grunt as she managed to grab her phone. An image of her nails digging into his back as he took her against a wall flashed in his mind, and he gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles ached.

  Holy hell.

  He was going to need to keep his distance this weekend before he did something really stupid.

  Her fingers left his thigh as Erin popped back into her seat and buckled herself back in. “Good thing they make protective cases, right? I drop this thing like ten times a day,” she said, smiling over at him.

  “Right. Good thing.” Phone cases were the farthest thing from his mind right now, but he was trying his damnedest to be a gentleman. And failing.

  After another moment of silence, Erin cleared her throat and asked, “How old is Bailey now?”

  The subject of his daughter doused all his previous thoughts. “Twelve.” Twelve and 192 days, Dad. Get it right is what Bailey would say if she were in the truck with them right now. Was it bad that he would kill for his daughter to act as a buffer right now?

  “Same age as my students.” Jake caught the frown out of the corner of his eye. Something had happened with her job, but he didn’t feel comfortable enough to press the issue.

  “Then you know what you’re getting into.” He loved his daughter, but preteen girls were a scary breed, especially for anyone who wasn’t related.

  She turned to him, those red lips twisted into a wicked smile. “Trust me. I’d take them over high schoolers any day of the week.”

  That was not comforting.

  One phase at a time. It was the only thought that prevented him from waving the white flag in regard to parenting.

  “Where is she?”

  “She wanted to ride up with Julie. They’re getting pedicures with Hazel and Josie.”

  “Sounds like she’s in good hands.”

  “She is. They love spoiling her.” As much as he gave his sisters shit, he knew they were taking good care of her. He’d painted Bailey’s nails when she was younger and played princess tea party, but nowadays, he had no clue how to even pique her interest besides sending her into Sephora with his credit card.

  When he’d gone out with his buddies after a shift and he’d met the occasional woman, he’d kept his daughter out of the equation. He wanted to keep her safe and protected, especially after the whole Brittany debacle and the disappearance of her mother, Maisey. It had been a long time since he’d opened up to anyone besides his family and his unit. But he found himself swapping preteen horror stories with Erin as they drove over the mountain pass and the lush greenery turned to high desert, and he felt lighter than he had in years.

  Erin stared at Jake’s hand as it gripped the gearshift in his truck. His thumb made slow, lazy circles around the notch of black plastic. Jake had dressed casually today, in a navy-blue T-shirt and well-worn jeans. The material of his shirt stretched to capacity around the arms, giving way to tanned skin corded with muscle. Jake had the type of biceps that Erin wouldn’t even be able to fully encompass with both hands. That, paired with the veins snaking up his forearms, and she was going to need to find something else to focus on the rest of the weekend. Perhaps the lovely high-desert scenery. Ruddy rocks and ridges were just as appealing. Yep.

  She’d already made the cardinal mistake of touching the guy. The way his solid quad muscles had jumped under her touch had nearly sent her spiraling. That was it. A million and one fantasies unleashed, ones she couldn’t unsee even if an industrial-size container of bleach was involved. One minute she was trying to get her phone, and the next, Pow, hello there, Mr. Firefighter, I think my house is burning down. Please, carry me to the safety of your bed.

  She focused back on their conversation. She’d managed to bring up a safe topic—his daughter. That effectively stopped the whole arsonist scenario she’d toyed with for a hot second.

  Just as Jake finished telling a story about how Bailey’s recent foray into contouring was an absolute bust, he turned down the drive of Three Sisters Resort. Both were silent as they wound up the inky black road. Her gaze settled on the landscape, the dusty clay, the abundance of firs. The type of beauty that would be perfect for a panoramic postcard.

  The elegant Three Sisters Lodge spanned the length of at least two football fields. A sprawling lawn of lush grass and flowers rolled down the hill, ending at a gazebo area filled with twinkling lights and white folding chairs. Erin presumed this was where Josie would be saying her vows the following evening. Canopied sitting areas were located in several spots on the grassy expanse, so inviting—the perfect spot to read a book. Or down a few margaritas. It was a charming place to have a wedding and undoubtedly cost more than her teaching salary. When she’d gotten her first paycheck, she had been stoked. Until she had realized 90 percent of it went to rent and food in the city. Nothing quite took the wind out of a newly g
raduated person’s sails like being thrown into adulthood.

  She turned back to Jake, whose white knuckles had a death grip on the steering wheel. Tendrils of tension wound around her neck. It wouldn’t just be them in the truck anymore. Which was a shame, because even if she was fighting the whole awkward “I’d dry-hump the crap out of you” urges, it was surprisingly easy to slide back into the comfort of talking to an old friend. Now it was showtime.

  “Looks like everyone is here already,” he said.

  Jake pulled the truck into the large gravel lot next to the main resort entrance, parking next to a silver Mercedes. He hopped out of the truck and wound around to her side and opened the door before she had the chance to unbuckle her seat belt.

  “Oh, thanks.” Oh boy. She was not expecting that sweet gesture. Neither were her ovaries. They might have been giving him a standing ovation.

  To make things worse—or maybe better?—he held out his hand to help her down from the truck.

  Seriously, where were these guys back home? The last guy she’d dated honked the horn instead of coming to her door when picking her up. He’d also taken her to In-N-Out for her birthday and forgotten his wallet. With everything that had just transpired in the last thirty seconds, she was 80 percent of the way to an orgasm.

  Friends, she reminded herself. She was here on friend duty. She’d mingle with people, drink enough beer to alleviate the awkwardness, and then go back to bingeing on early-2000s shows, caring for her mother, and job hunting once she returned to her mom’s house.

  They extracted their luggage from the truck bed. As they meandered down the walkway, Erin glanced at Jake’s overnight bag that wouldn’t even fit her hair products, let alone a weekend’s worth of clothes. Men.

  She wheeled her suitcase up the cobblestone path, the wheels rolling loudly over each groove. Jake gave her a lazy smile, the skin around his eyes crinkling. One foot in front of the other. Left. Right. Left. Multitasking had always been her strong suit, but with one look at his lips, she was reduced to single-digit functions. Jake turned her into a certifiable mouth breather.

  She chanced another glance at him halfway down the sidewalk. Such a deep red. They stood out against the closely trimmed beard. Erin had never been with a man with a beard. She wondered if it would tickle the inside of her thighs.

  Wow.

  That thought process derailed off course faster than traffic during a rainstorm in the city. Smile does not equal face time between the legs, girl. She brought her iced coffee to her lips and took a deep pull. So hot out here.

  He held the door open for her as she walked through the massive entryway, rich red carpet hushing her tread as it squished beneath her sandals. If the outside looked like a small rustic palace, the inside reminded her of an elegant tree-house heaven. Wooden beams crisscrossed along the ceiling. A massive stone fireplace took up almost the entire left side of the room. Lacquered wood-and-leather chairs curved in a semicircle, facing the unlit hearth. For the middle of the day, it was surprisingly empty, only a couple of people filling up water cups out of a crystal decanter in the sitting area.

  They made their way to the front desk in the center of the room. The concierge greeted them with a beaming, if somewhat forced, smile. “Welcome to Three Sisters Resort. Can I have the name of your room reservation?”

  “Two rooms. Both under Jake Bennett.” Jake had insisted that there be two rooms in order to make her feel comfortable with the whole voyaging-halfway-across-the-state-to-stay-at-a-luxury-resort thing. Twist her arm a little harder, please.

  The concierge entered the information and nodded. “Lucky you got here when you did. Seems we’ve had an issue with overbooking for this weekend. These are the last two rooms available. One has an excellent entrance to the butterfly garden.”

  Erin and Jake quickly glanced at each other, and by the visible sag of relief in his shoulders, she could tell Jake was thinking the same thing she was: that the concierge might say something ludicrous like they’d have to share a room. Not that she’d really put up that much of a protest. But for the sake of making this weekend as painless as possible, it’d be safe not to be in a room alone with him for more than ten minutes. A girl had only so much willpower before things like Please, show me what those biceps would look like as you press me up against a wall or Can I smack your ass as you fireman-carry me to my bed? word-vomited out of her mouth. Yeah . . . this was going to be a long weekend if corny one-liners were already winning out over coherent thoughts.

  “Let’s put the bags in our rooms and meet back here in twenty. Sound good?” Jake said.

  She cleared her throat, hoping her thoughts weren’t etched on her heated cheeks. “Works for me.”

  They v-ed off at the entrance to the suite area, and Erin took a deep, calming breath as she walked down the hallway alone. Yes, she could do this. She wouldn’t make an ass out of herself. She definitely wouldn’t end up in Jake Bennett’s bed, no matter how active her imagination was. And, oh, she was thinking up ten different ways to incorporate those sexy turnouts in the bedroom.

  A quick glance at the door at the end of the hall told her she’d arrived at her destination. Shaky hands excavated the key from the pocket inside the complimentary pamphlet, and she slid it into the lock.

  The mechanism beeped, and she jiggled the handle and swung open the door.

  She stared.

  And stared some more.

  No.

  She swiped at her eyes, just to make sure she wasn’t somehow hallucinating.

  Nope. They were still there.

  Two raccoons scampered across the bed—her bed—over the nightstands, along the headboard. They both chittered at each other, and oh my, were they pooping as they ran? The fatter raccoon shredded the fluffy white duvet, ribbons of fabric flying into the air. The other one clung to the telephone and knocked it off the nightstand. Both landed on the floor with a thud.

  The door to the garden was wide open, and insects had decided the cool air-conditioned room was preferable to the midday heat.

  Erin didn’t even bother stepping foot inside the room. Instead, she turned back toward the front desk and let the door slide shut behind her.

  Chapter Five

  Jake paced the spacious suite wondering what the hell he was doing. It’d been a mistake to invite Erin. He realized that the second he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her smile.

  Not like he could do much about it now, especially since they were three hours from home and out in the middle of nowhere. He’d make the best of it, he decided. All he needed to do was keep his distance. That was the smart thing to do. Just as he made another lap around the room, a knock came at the door.

  He shook his head. His sister couldn’t know that he’d already arrived. He’d be on wedding duty the rest of the weekend—at least give him a few minutes to get acclimated. Instead, when he opened the door, he was greeted with the one person he should be staying away from.

  “What’s up, Erin?”

  She clutched at her overnight bag, her fingers straining against the strap.

  His gaze landed on the two other bags beside her. Including her roller.

  “There’s an issue.” From the way she worried her bottom lip, and the fact that she had everything in front of him, this couldn’t be good.

  “What kind?”

  “My room is currently occupied by raccoons.”

  “Raccoons.” He’d heard of a lot of things left in hotel rooms. Most of them falling under the do-not-use-a-black-light-on-this category. Raccoons were a first.

  “Yeah, you know. The creatures that like to dig in trash cans and carry rabies. Although, I doubt these ones were rabid. I didn’t see either foaming from the mouth.”

  She was rambling. Damn it, she was cute when she got nervous.

  She cleared her throat and looked expectantly up at him with those big hazel eyes.

  The concierge’s words echoed in his head. “And there are no other rooms in the hotel . . .�
�

  She mashed her lips together, and her knuckles turned white around the grip she had on her suitcase. “Yep.”

  A long, awkward pause ensued.

  Shit.

  If anything, Jake was a fixer. Busted pipe? All he needed was a wrench and caulking. Missing parts in an Ikea product? He’d make do. Making a hotel room appear out of thin air? He’d rise to the challenge.

  “No problem. I can see if I can put you with Bailey and Julie,” he said. Those were safe choices. He at least trusted his daughter not to traumatize Erin.

  “Would you? Oh, thank you.” She breathed out a sigh of what looked to be relief.

  Jake grabbed his cell from the nightstand and dialed his sister’s number. She picked up on the second ring.

  “Shh . . . turn down the music or your dad will know that we’re getting matching tattoos. Oh, hi, brother. Bailey and I are having zero fun over here.” His daughter giggled in the background.

  Jake shook his head and smiled. “No tattoos till she’s eighteen.” That had been his mom’s rule in high school. He’d abided by it until the second his birthday hit. Then he had gone to the parlor and started on his half-sleeve tattoos—ones that were still a work in progress to this day. His mother had cried.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “Have any extra room in your suite? Erin is roomless at the moment.”

  “We don’t. We already have four people in the room. Why don’t you try Aunt Vikki?”

  And so it went. He called Aunt Vikki, who had brought two of her great-nieces. Aunt Susan said her room came with only one bed. And that was it. He’d exhausted his list of people to call. He glanced at Erin, who sat at the edge of the couch, wringing her hands. He’d sorely overestimated his fixing abilities.

  He took a seat next to her and blew out a breath. “So we got a problem.”

  “No room?”

  “No. But I do have room here. I can sleep on the couch, and you can take the bed.”

  Bad idea. Horrible. He briefly entertained sleeping out in his truck.