Up in Flames: Steamy Firefighter/Single Mom Romance

by Mari Carr

  “What?”

  “You want that heart-stopping, soul-burning sex,” he said, scrutinizing her face, his words spoken so low and deep, she could barely hear him. “You need someone to ease that throbbing in your pussy. You’re starving for it.”

  “Jake,” she chastised, her voice almost a whisper.

  “They can’t hear us.” He put a couple feet between them, but he clearly hadn’t given up the fight. “You realize you can have fun along the way, while you look for this pillar of fatherhood, don’t you?”

  Before she could answer, Hope felt a tug on her skirt. “Can I have another juice box, Mommy?”

  She smiled down at George, grateful for the distraction. Things between she and Jake were getting out of hand.

  The last month had been an adjustment for both of them, first the cross-country move, the new house, and the fact that she was his teacher. “I don’t have enough for everyone to have a second, George.”

  She knew in an instant he was going to pout. God help his first-grade teacher next year because he was seriously going to be screwed up after a year of Mom-teacher.

  Mercifully, Jake knew exactly how to distract him. “You a baseball fan?” he asked, tapping on the bill of George’s Washington Nationals cap.

  “Yeah!” George replied excitedly. His undying love of baseball was fairly recent, sparked by her father, who’d taken him to a Nationals game last spring. Since then, George had talked of precious little else, begging for a glove, bat, balls, and wanting her to pitch with him outside twenty-four seven.

  Hope hated baseball. Like despised it. Watching paint dry had more appeal.

  “You ever considered playing on a team?” Jake asked.

  “He’s a little young, don’t you think?” she replied.

  Jake shook his head as George’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head at the thought.

  “Local parks and rec runs little league. Tee-ball is part of it. Sign-ups for fall ball are going on now.”

  “Tee-ball?” The idea of sitting on hard bleachers watching five-year-olds knock baseballs off a post for hours on end sounded like the definition of hell.

  Unfortunately, George had already signed with a major-league team in his mind. “Can I, Mommy? Can I play?”

  “You don’t have any equipment,” she said, trying to recall exactly how much money was left in her checking account. The move had taken what little money she’d managed to save and her first paycheck was still another week or two away.

  “I have a glove,” George insisted.

  Right now, he had an old mitt of her dad’s that was way too big for him. “It’s an adult glove, George. You can barely keep it on your hand.”

  Jake was no more deterred than George. “Rec department has extra mitts they’ll loan out.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to ask Jake to stop being so freaking helpful, but it was too late. The damage was done.

  George was dancing around them. “I’m going to play baseball.”

  Jake laughed at his enthusiasm. “You ever play catch?”

  George settled down. “Mommy throws the ball to me.”

  “She any good?”

  Hope narrowed her eyes at Jake, who was clearly having fun at her expense.

  “She throws like a girl,” George muttered. “The ball doesn’t go very far.”

  She wanted to argue about that, but she couldn’t. Glancing down, she could still make out the faint remnants of the bruise on the top of her foot, left there by one of her less-than-stellar throws.

  “How about I teach you?” Jake offered and Hope instantly saw his game.

  No. Fuuuuuck no.

  “You will?” George started bouncing again. “Can he, Mommy? Please. Pretty please?”

  “I could stop by Saturday afternoon.” Jake’s smug smile let her know he believed he’d won this round.

  Hope nodded, simply because she didn’t trust herself not to let the few choice words she was thinking fly.

  “Great.” Jake slipped his phone out of his pocket, tapped in a few things, then held it out to her. “Why don’t you put in your number and I’ll text later to set up a time and get your address?”

  She begrudgingly took the phone because George was still there, watching them. Jake had put Miss Connor in as the contact information.

  She was “this close” to giving the asshole the wrong number, but one look at George’s excited face had her typing in the real thing.

  Jake’s fingers brushed hers when she handed the phone back and every single thing inside her clenched…with excitement and need.

  “We, um.” Her throat was suddenly tight and she cleared it. “We should get back on the bus.”

  Jake reached out for a handshake. Hope accepted it because it was the polite thing to do, but his hand was too large and warm with callouses that proved he wasn’t afraid of hard work. And because she was pretty much out of control of her libido, she imagined what those rough fingers would feel like inside her.

  Hope shivered. Jake noticed, and his eyes went dark with the same hunger she felt.

  “I’ll see you on Saturday.”

  She nodded, then tried to pull her hand back. Jake didn’t let go. Instead, he gave it one last squeeze.

  She tugged harder and he relented.

  As soon as she was free, she felt the overwhelming desire to give him her hand back.

  Chapter 2

  Jake grinned as he pulled up to Hope’s house. George was sitting—actually squirming was a better word—on the front porch, waiting for him. The second Jake put the truck in park, George picked up a brand-new mitt and darted across the yard toward him.

  “Hey, buddy.” He reached into the truck and pulled out his own well-worn mitt and a new baseball. Then he looked over his shoulder. “Where’s your mom?”

  “She’s inside, trying to put her bed together.”

  “Her bed’s not set up yet?”

  George shook his head. “Nah. She just sleeps on a mattress on the floor.” He struggled to put his mitt on.

  Jake took it from him. “Here.” Jake bent the stiff leather a few times, trying to soften it. “I see your mom got you a new glove.”

  Jake slipped it on George’s hand. “Now then. How’s that feel?”

  “Good.” George gave him a gap-toothed smile.

  “Hey now. What’s going on here? You’re missing a tooth.”

  George put his finger in the empty space. “Tooth Fairy gave me a dollar for it.”

  “Not too shabby. Wonder what she’d give me for mine.”

  George giggled. “You’re too old to lose your teeth.”

  Jake gave him a wink, then tossed the ball to him, impressed when George caught it with ease.

  George threw it back at him and he whistled. “You got a great arm there, George. You’d make a heck of a shortstop.”

  “George!”

  They both turned at the sound of Hope’s voice as she stepped onto the porch, looking for her son. Her pretty brown eyes widened when she saw Jake.

  “Oh, Jake. I didn’t know you were here.”

  “Just pulled up. George had his mitt and was ready to roll.”

  She smiled as she looked at George. “He’s been waiting on the porch. For two hours. I told him you wouldn’t be here until three.”

  “Wish I’d known. I could have come over earlier. He said you were having a hard time putting your bed together,” he said, watching her squirm. “I could have helped you with that, Miss Connor.”

  His comment got the desired result. She narrowed her eyes even as she blushed. Jake wasn’t sure what it was about Hope Connor that had his dick going rock hard every time those cheeks of hers flushed red, but damn if it wasn’t happening again. He tried to covertly adjust his jeans.

  She followed the movement of his hand. Nothing got by the cute kindergarten teacher. Hope was a million miles away from his usual type of woman, something he’d told himself at least twenty times in the past few days.

 
Ordinarily he avoided women like her like the damn plague. Hope had her heart set on some uptight, serious dude in a suit with a nine-to-five job, who’d come home and play house with her and George. They’d set a Saturday morning date—locking the bedroom door—for missionary, then go on with their ho-hum lives.

  On top of that, Hope was too sweet for a guy like him. While she was looking for love and commitment and forever, Jake was happy with his own status quo—footloose and fancy-free. So they were a mismatch from the word go.

  And while he’d repeated those same words over and over since the field trip, they weren’t sinking in. Hence his presence here.

  Because all the logic in the world didn’t change one simple fact.

  Jake wanted to fuck her.

  Her and her loose-fitting, completely virginal wardrobe.

  He looked her over. Man, he’d thought the field trip outfit was bad with that voluminous skirt that hung all the way to the ground and high-necked T-shirt that hid her tits.

  Today’s attire was worse. She was in a man’s T-shirt, the godawful thing three times too big, and baggy jeans. Her auburn hair was up in the same style she’d worn the other day—a tight single braid that hung down her back. His fingers itched to pull it loose, wrap her long hair around his fist a few times, and give it a good tug. Preferably while she was on her hands and knees in front of him, his dick sliding in from behind.

  She glanced at his truck, then sighed. “Do you have any tools with you? I bought a screwdriver and hammer at the hardware store, but I think I need something else. Maybe a wrench or pliers.”

  Jake laughed at her unwillingness to admit defeat and let him into her bedroom. “Regular do-it-yourself gal, huh? Which is it? A wrench or pliers?”

  She bit her lower lip, drawing his attention to her pretty mouth. He wouldn’t mind pushing his tongue between those plump pink lips. He’d bet she tasted like sugar, rather than vodka, like most of the women he kissed.

  He probably needed to stop picking women up at bars.

  Shit.

  Jake suddenly felt the need to kick his own ass again. He should be anywhere but here, flirting with the blushing schoolteacher. She seemed like the type who’d fall in love fast and get clingy.

  He did not go for that.

  Finally, she sighed and threw in the towel. “I have no idea what I’m doing with that bed frame.”

  Jake ran his hand over his jaw, trying to hide his grin. “Give me and George a little while to play catch and then I’ll come in and help you with it.”

  She didn’t want him in her bedroom—that much was evident from her grimace—but it appeared she was even more tired of sleeping on the floor. “Okay. Why don’t I make you guys some lemonade?”

  “That would be real nice.”

  Jake watched as she walked back to the house, trying to get some glimpse of her figure or even just her ass. Her damn clothes were an effective shield, no doubt something she’d picked out just for him.

  Jake played catch with George for the better part of an hour, stopping for a few minutes to drink the lemonade Hope had brought out for them. The kid was tireless when it came to playing ball, but he was cool and easy to hang out with, not whiny or demanding. Jake figured he’d been raised right.

  Speaking of…

  “Hey, George. You want to help me put your mom’s bed together for her?”

  He thought the young boy might complain about stopping, but George was obviously up for anything. “Sure.”

  Jake tossed his mitt in the truck and reached into the back seat for the toolbox he always kept there. In addition to his position as the only full-time, salaried firefighter in Bootlick, he was also sort of known as Mr. Fix-it among the single ladies in town. Difference was most of those women came up with a million lame excuses to get him into their bedroom with his tool…er, tools, while Hope clearly wanted him a hundred miles from hers.

  “Can I carry that?” George asked.

  “It’s kind of heavy,” Jake warned as he handed the boy the toolbox. Jake didn’t let go immediately, making sure George wouldn’t drop it.

  “I can do it.” He struggled a bit, but George was determined not to let anything stop him from being his assistant.

  Jake followed George into the house, enjoying the five-year-old’s version of a house tour. “That’s going to be the dining room. Nothing in there yet,” he said as he nodded his head to an empty room. “Back there is the family room. We got a couch and TV, but Mommy said we can’t get stations until she gets paid.”

  Jake assumed stations meant cable.

  Hope had all the windows open and there was a nice breeze blowing, so the house was cool, the air fresh.

  He didn’t mention to George that he’d been in this house countless times before. His great aunt had lived here up until she died and his uncle Louis had inherited it. Louis had been renting it out ever since. The last tenant had been a young widow and she and Jake had enjoyed more than a few wild nights together in this house before she decided to move to Kansas City to be closer to her sister.

  “Dammit.”

  Jake and George took off in the direction of Hope’s voice. George rolled his eyes at him. “Mommy isn’t supposed to cuss.”

  His tone told him there was a big difference between Hope doing what she was supposed to and what she actually did. Jake had gotten a kick out of some of her near-misses during the field trip.

  When they got to the kitchen, Hope was standing on a wobbly stool, trying to change the battery in the smoke detector. It looked like the old one was corroded to hell.

  “Pretty sure you’re going to need a whole new detector,” Jake said.

  She jerked in surprise. They should have announced their arrival. She threw her hands out, flailing to try to keep from falling off the stool.

  Jake’s mother hadn’t raised a fool, so he stepped behind her and placed his hands on her hips to steady her. His thumbs landed on the fleshy part of her ass and he gave it a little stroke.

  She let him steal a touch without giving him shit—probably because George was standing there—but once she was steady, she twisted around so Jake had no choice but to drop his hands.

  He lifted one hand up to help her. “You better get down from there, Miss Connor, or you’ll break your neck. Or bruise that sweet little—”

  “I’m fine now, Jake.” Even as she said it, she took his hand and let him help her down. “You don’t need to worry about my neck. Or sweet little anything. And it’s Hope.”

  “I’m just glad to discover you’ve got something interesting under that T-shirt. Is there any reason you’re shopping in the Big and Tall section?”

  She tugged the hand Jake had refused to let go of out of his grip and narrowed her eyes.

  He wasn’t sure why he found her annoyance so arousing, but the truth was whenever Hope Connor gave Jake that self-righteous look or impatient sniff, his dick got hard enough to pound nails into the pavement.

  That turn-on partnered with the blushing one ensured his hard-on wasn’t going anywhere.

  She looked up at the smoke detector. “I’ll grab a new one from the store tomorrow.”

  “Let me know when you get it. I’ll come over and install it for you.”

  “That’s—”

  “Nonnegotiable,” Jake finished for her. He was getting pretty good at anticipating her rejections. “Let me tell you how this is going to play out. You’re going to keep saying no and I’m going to keep showing up here to help anyway. So save your breath.”

  Hope put her hands on her hips, and he tried not to wince when his cock thickened even more. He was going to have to invest in bigger jeans with Hope in town. Otherwise, hanging out with her was bound to get painful.

  “Listen, Jake,” she started.

  “Where’s your bedroom, Miss Connor?” he murmured suggestively, even though he was perfectly aware of where the bedrooms were in this house. He chose to keep that tidbit to himself, since she was clearly sensitive about his rep
utation.

  She glanced George’s direction. “I don’t think—”

  “We’re putting your bed together.” Jake pointed to the toolbox George was carrying. “Remember?”

  “Oh. Yeah.”

  There it was again. That blush.

  His cock was going to have a permanent zipper line imprinted on it at this rate. He was glad his T-shirt was untucked and shielding the view of her effect on him. He didn’t mind her seeing it, but George was another story.

  “Lead the way, George,” Jake said, grinning as the little boy took off in the direction of her bedroom. As they walked, Jake glanced around and noticed Hope hadn’t lied about needing to unpack. There was precious little done in the house.

  She noticed him looking around. “It’s my first year of teaching. Planning lessons takes a lot more time than I realized. By the time I’m ready for the next day, it’s usually late and I’m struggling to keep my eyes open.”

  “It’s okay. I wasn’t kidding about helping out.”

  She smiled at him, but he wasn’t blind to the suspicion in her eyes. She thought he was going to expect to be paid—and not monetarily—for his work.

  She hadn’t been here more than a month and the local gossips had clearly managed to fill her in on Jake’s sexual exploits. Not that he was surprised.

  Hell, not too many of those stories were lies.

  Jake had lived in Bootlick his whole life, and living in a cracker box with the same people meant nobody had a secret. And when the secret was a big one, a twelve-inch whopper, word got around, women got curious, and shit got out of hand.

  He used to get a kick out of his big hose. It made him a legend in Bootlick. But lately, it had stopped feeling cool. As his reputation grew, so did the invitations. He liked women and he liked to fuck, but recently he’d started feeling more like some freak show attraction than a flesh and blood man.

  The women who’d been inviting him to their beds the past few months wanted bragging rights, a chance to say they took a ride on the bad boy fireman’s pole. Jake was tired of that game.

  As for the nice girls like Hope…well, he just made sure they stayed away.