Up in Flames: Steamy Firefighter/Single Mom Romance

by Mari Carr

  Up in Flames

  Mari Carr

  Contents

  Up in Flames

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Up in Flames

  Jake has a big reputation, a big fire truck, and a big hose...one that doesn’t hook up to a hydrant. Men in town envy him. Who wouldn’t? He’s got women lining up to slide down his pole. He’s living a bachelor’s dream.

  And then a new girl moves into town…and suddenly everything Jake’s always thought about relationships goes up in flames.

  Hope moved halfway across the country for a new start after being burned by a charming bad boy. She has two goals. Thirty minutes of set-the-sheets-on-fire sex to relieve her of her near-virgin status. Then she’s going to get serious about finding the perfect dad for her son.

  All that will work out just perfectly when her foolish heart stops wanting the same thing as her va-jay-jay...the notorious firefighting playboy in town.

  Chapter 1

  “Can I slide down your pole?”

  “No. But your teacher can.”

  Hope was jerked from her inappropriate daydreams when twenty-four heads spun in her direction, the five-year-olds in her class peering at her hopefully—as if she’d actually do such a thing.

  The comment caught her off guard, since she’d stopped listening to their tour guide a few minutes earlier. It wasn’t that she wasn’t interested in what was being said.

  Nope.

  In truth, her problem had everything to do with the way it was being said. In a slow, deep, rich timbre that had her nipples hard and her panties wet.

  To try to counteract it, she had been looking around the fire station, feigning interest in the trucks, equipment, uniforms, hoses. Basically anything that might distract her from staring into the crystal clear, bright blue eyes of Jake “Big Hose” Garrett.

  Then she realized everyone was still looking at her, waiting for a response.

  “I hardly think I’m dressed for that,” she said, gesturing to her aquamarine, gypsy-style maxi skirt.

  Jake’s gorgeous baby blues slid leisurely down from her very basic, very proper white T-shirt from Target to her brown ankle-strap sandals, taking in everything in between.

  Hope wasn’t a prude or shy, but when Jake’s gaze returned to her face, deep dimples framed his face and drew her attention to his lips as he gave her the world’s most lethal grin.

  She blushed.

  Jesus.

  Hope never blushed, but the heat in her cheeks grew even hotter when he said, “I think you’re dressed just right.”

  She shot him a narrow-eyed gaze, silently chastising him for his completely inappropriate sexual innuendos. Of course, the kindergartners didn’t have a clue this conversation had absolutely nothing to do with their teacher, Ms. Connor, sliding down that pole in the corner.

  Jake was flirting. Something she had been warned would happen.

  Hope had moved to Bootlick, Kansas, from Harrisonburg, Virginia, exactly a month ago, after landing her first teaching job in the small town. She was the only kindergarten teacher at Earhart Elementary School.

  She hadn’t known a soul in town when she pulled up to the rental home she had found online, every single thing she possessed in her Volkswagen Jetta and the small U-Haul she’d towed halfway across the country. Hope had been a late hire, which meant the majority of her things were still in boxes scattered around mostly empty rooms. She’d started work two days after arriving in town and hadn’t had time to unpack properly or even assemble the new furniture she’d purchased, every spare moment at home spent planning lessons for the next day.

  The short time between move and work had actually been a blessing in one regard. Bootlick wasn’t much bigger than a cigar box, and it had become apparent, fairly early on, that her best chance of meeting people was at school. The school nurse, Ada, had introduced herself the first day and taken pity on Hope. Ada was a born and bred Bootlicker—a name she’d disturbingly given herself—and she had taken Hope under her wing, filling her in on who was who and what was where.

  So it was Ada who’d warned her when the field trip to the fire station was approved that Jake Garrett was the hottest commodity in town, as well as the resident bad boy. She said he would lay on the charm, with the single goal of getting into Hope’s pants.

  Like a jackass, she had assured Ada she was in no danger.

  Then Jake had sauntered out of the open garage door, in a navy-blue T-shirt that had been washed twelve too many times and faded jeans that accentuated every curve, every muscle, every drool-worthy inch of his chiseled body.

  Hope had looked too far south again. Her eyes flew to his face, and Jake shot her a wink that let her know he’d caught her staring at his ass. Then he continued talking about all the things a firefighter wore, grabbing a large fire helmet off a nearby counter, and plopping it down on Layla Saunders’ blonde head, to everyone’s amusement.

  This wasn’t good.

  Hope knew Jake’s type—intimately. Knew it well enough she could recite—chapter and verse—all the reasons why she was not going to fall into bed with someone like him.

  Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…

  She searched the faces of the children who surrounded Jake, all of whom were hanging on his every word, and found him.

  George.

  Her number one reason for resisting the playboy firefighter pulling out all the flirting stops, with his “look how great I am with kids” grin and the subtle flexing of his biceps as he lifted himself up on the side of the fire truck to point out the tower ladder.

  Unfortunately, looking at George didn’t help because her son was staring at Jake like he was a flipping Avenger, the god of thunder, and the fire ax Jake had slung over his shoulder was Thor’s goddamn hammer.

  George wanted a dad. Hope knew that. The poor kid practically salivated when it came to male attention.

  The problem with giving the kid what he wanted meant she had to find a way to resist guys like Jake and seek out a decent, respectable man.

  Hope had gone so far as to make a list of attributes for this—so-far—unspecified man. She needed someone who was serious about his career, responsible with money, and loved George.

  She realized there probably should have been more on that list—something to do with her attraction to the guy, but every other thing she added tended to fall into a category that had less to do with finding George a good dad and more to do with her having a good time in bed.

  Bad boys were her kryptonite.

  Jake hopped down from the truck, landing right next to her. It was the closest he’d gotten to her since they’d arrived.

  He smelled good. Some faint musk cologne mingled with peppermint. She had seen the dish of sweets on a counter against the back wall when they’d arrived and had to shoo half the class away. Kids were clearly born with some sort of candy radar.

  Tempted to lean closer, Hope cleared her throat and looked at the kids. “Anybody else have a question for Jake before snack time?”

  She added snack time because she’d learned on the first day of school, kindergarteners always have more questions. And none of them have a damn thing to do with the lesson. She hoped the promise of food would stifle that desire.

  No such luck.

  Six hands shot u
p. “Amy,” Hope called out.

  “Are you going to have another sleepover with my mommy?”

  Hope was mortified, but Jake just laughed.

  “Well,” he started.

  “No more questions,” she said before Jake could answer or God forbid, anyone else make the same inquiry. “Let’s head outside and have our snack. Then we need to say goodbye to Jake and get back to school.”

  Food was a great distractor when it came to five-year-olds, so Hope had to hustle to keep up as they swarmed the picnic table behind the fire station. She pulled out the small bags of animal crackers, while Jake opened the cooler of drinks, handing each kid a juice box.

  Once they were all settled, she opened up her own pack of crackers. Before she could pull one out, another hand was sneaking into her bag.

  “So, Mrs.” Jake reached down, pulling her left hand up to inspect her bare ring finger. “Miss Connor,” he corrected with a grin that reminded her she’d failed to slip on her fake engagement ring. She stifled a grimace. That ring was her key defense against guys like Jake. “How are you liking Bootlick?”

  The town was small enough that a new teacher moving in was actually considered interesting news. “It’s very nice. I’ve only been here a month, so I’m afraid I haven’t had much time to explore.”

  “I could show you around. Give you the lay of the land.”

  I’m sure you could. In your bedroom.

  “That’s okay,” she said, hastily, shoving any thoughts of Jake and a bed away. “I started work a couple days after moving in, so I still have a ton of unpacking to do.”

  “I could help with that too. Do some of the heavy lifting for you. Help set up your bed…room.”

  Hope wasn’t sure if she imagined the pause between bed and room or if it was really there. Jake shifted closer to her, helping himself to another cracker. Apparently, they were splitting the package, even though there were a half dozen more unopened bags on the picnic table.

  The sad truth was she was tempted to take him up on the offer. She and George were still sleeping on mattresses on the floor because assembling the bed frames required tools she didn’t have.

  She shrugged. “I’m good. Thanks anyway.”

  She thought he had gotten the picture and taken the rejection in stride.

  Then he said, “How about a drink one night? You can’t be all work and no play.”

  Hope knew exactly how to shut down the flirting. She pointed to George. “Actually, I can. See the blond boy there in the red T-shirt. He’s mine.”

  Jake didn’t seem bothered to discover she was a mother. “Cute kid. What’s his name?”

  “George,” she said. Then she recalled Amy’s question. Clearly kids weren’t a deterrent when it came to his sexual conquests. “I should probably start clean—”

  “Let me guess,” Jake interrupted. “You’ve been warned to stay away from me.”

  Hope wasn’t sure how to reply to that because she had been told in no uncertain terms that Jake had some sort of snake charmer skills when it came to getting women into bed. So she lied. “No. I haven’t.”

  He tilted his head, studying her face in disbelief. She was careful to school her features.

  Then her curiosity got the better of her. “Why would someone warn me to stay away from you? Are you dangerous?”

  Hope had never met a guy who gave a shit about his reputation. She figured men like Jake wore them around like badges of honor.

  Jake gave her a smile that revealed perfect white teeth and it occurred to her he was very, very dangerous.

  “I’m not dangerous,” he lied. “But I am a sucker for redheads with big brown eyes. Everybody in town knows that.”

  “Is that right?”

  Dammit. Her voice was coming out too breathy, too flirty. That wasn’t her intent at all. She was supposed to be resisting this…him.

  Unfortunately, her body had her brain in a choke hold and she was running out of air. It had been a very long, very painful dry spell. She needed sex.

  He smiled, reaching over to flip the end of her braid through his fingers. It was a playful, friendly touch, so her sudden desire to tear his T-shirt off and sink her teeth into one of his ripped abs seemed a bit over the top.

  His eyes narrowed slightly and she worried maybe he could read minds. “You’re not in danger, Miss Connor, but I am. You should put me out of my misery.”

  He loved pointing out her single state. She wished she could figure out a way to cut through the sexual tension between them. Neither of them was saying much of anything, yet she felt like there was this whole other conversation happening just below the surface. Especially when he reached for another cracker, his fingers lightly caressing the back of her hand as he did so. It was a feather-light touch, but it packed a punch.

  Hope’s stomach fluttered every time he leaned close, her breathing shallow, rapid. Her pussy clenched whenever he looked at her.

  “Misery, huh? What would you suggest I do? We had a dog that was suffering once. My dad took him out back and shot him.”

  Jake laughed. “I was thinking of something a little more humane.”

  “I think that was very humane.”

  “You’re a cold, cruel woman, Miss Connor. It’s turning me on. Have a drink with me. Or better yet, dinner.”

  One glance below his belt proved she wasn’t the only one standing here in a total state of arousal.

  He shifted his hips and adjusted his jeans, but not before she caught sight of the telltale bulge of his erection.

  This was insane. There were too many kids running around.

  Time to get a grip.

  Problem was she hadn’t felt this hot and bothered since before George was born.

  Getting pregnant on the same night she’d lost her virginity had a way of killing a sex drive. She had merely fooled around during high school, limiting herself to second base and no further. Sophomore year of college that self-control gave way to Alan Lord, the sex-on-a-stick frat boy, who talked her into going to a party with him, then talked her out of her pants. Between his charming Southern drawl—sweet Jesus, what was it about a guy calling her darlin’—and the three vodka tonics, she’d succumbed.

  Three weeks later, the stick she’d pissed on showed a plus sign, so she had dropped out of college, moved back home, and did college the hard way—online while working a part-time job and taking care of a baby.

  Alan chose not to exercise his paternal rights—fucking asshole—and for six years, she hadn’t felt a single spark of horniness.

  Six years.

  Nothing.

  And now, it all came back to her in one typhoon of hunger and need and clawing desire.

  If she ordered a dildo online right now, could it be delivered by tonight? Hope actually started to reach for her iPhone, then recalled where she was. And who she was with.

  “Shi—ugar cubes,” she muttered.

  Ever since George was born, she’d been trying to clean up her language. She was only about halfway successful.

  Jake chuckled. “You okay, Miss Connor?”

  She needed to cut this off at the knees. Now. “My name is Hope.”

  “Hope. Very pretty name.”

  “Use it instead, okay?”

  “I don’t know. I sort of like the sound of Miss Connor. Puts me in a naughty frame of mind.”

  Oh yeah—she was going to ignore that line. As soon as she fast-forwarded through at least six naughty things she wanted Jake to do to her, starting with her bent over her teacher’s desk while he spanked her with a ruler.

  She wondered if she could improvise on the dildo. Cucumber? She didn’t have anything at home for dinner, so a trip to the grocery store was definitely in order.

  Jake ran the back of his fingers over her cheek. “Does the same thing for you, doesn’t it? You’re blushing again.”

  “Fuc—dge.” This had to stop right here. “Listen, Jake. I appreciate the invitation for drinks, but I’m not interested in dating
right now.”

  “We can go as just friends.”

  Hope nearly laughed in his face. She had a million feelings rumbling around inside her at the moment and not one of them was friendly.

  She shook her head, digging deep for the strength to say what needed to be said. “I think I should stop you right here. I have two priorities at the moment and they include my son and my new job. I don’t have time for dating, and even if I did, you aren’t my type.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I, um…”

  He laughed at her discomfiture. “So you have been warned.”

  Hope had just enough pride that she hated being called on her lie. “Let’s just say your reputation precedes you and while I’m sure you’re used to women who are fine with a few nights tangling the sheets with you, I have a son to think of. When I step back into the dating world, it’s going to be with someone interested in going the distance.”

  “The distance?”

  “You know,” she explained, certain her next words would run him off for sure. “Someone who’ll be a good dad to George.”

  Unfortunately, Jake Garrett was made of sterner stuff.

  “And what about you? Don’t you want love and companionship and…” He leaned so close, she could feel the heat of his breath on her face as he added, “A man buried deep between those pretty legs of yours?”

  Hope started to ask him how he knew her legs were pretty. Right now, they were buried underneath a ton of flowing, colorful cotton.

  Instead, she just shrugged. All of the things he mentioned fell considerably lower on her list of dating requirements. George’s happiness was her primary concern. Love and—she swallowed heavily—great sex didn’t matter when stacked against what was best for her son.

  “I think you’re lying,” he murmured, standing way too close to her to be appropriate.