The Men On Fire: A Complete Romance Series (3-Book Box Set)

by Samantha Christy

  “Except maybe Kenny Lutwig,” I say.

  “Maybe not even him. You don’t know his story. Could be he lost a parent too, and never learned how to cope.”

  Suddenly, Brett stops walking and turns around, staring blankly down another street.

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing. I was just thinking about someone I met who lives over that way.”

  He looks torn between wanting to stay with me or walk away. Is he thinking of a woman? If he is, why would I even care? Except that after the way he held me in his arms, I do care.

  “Emma, I want to walk you home, but there is something I need to do.”

  I wave him off. “I’m not a child, Brett,” I say curtly. “I don’t need an escort.”

  “I know you don’t. But I was going to walk with you anyway. Maybe next time?”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  “So, Friday?” he asks. “Same time, same bench?”

  I consider turning him down. But I realize seeing him every three days has been the highlight of my summer, even if nothing can ever come of it. I don’t seem to have any control over myself around him. It’s something I haven’t felt around a guy in over twelve years. Heck, if I’m being honest—ever. So I don’t turn him down, even though I should. But I don’t, because I tell myself I’m the one in control. And because, apparently, I’m a stupid, stupid girl.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Brett

  I don’t turn around to see if she’s watching me walk away. I’ll pretend she is. Because I can’t seem to get a solid vibe from her. Sometimes, like when she was in my arms and it felt so right to be holding her, I think I want to ask her out. But then she gets all cold on me, like a few minutes ago when she snapped at me about not needing an escort. She’s fighting something, and it’s more than her struggle to get through what happened at the school.

  I’ve never felt the need to protect anyone as much as I want to protect Emma. When I was holding her, I realized I didn’t ever want to see her cry again. I wanted to do everything in my power to make things all right for her. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. I’m sure she thought I was a grade-A idiot.

  I try to put it out of my mind when I get to my destination a few blocks over. An FDNY car is parked in the street. I climb the front steps, the smell of an old fire wafting in the air. A familiar face appears.

  “Lt. Cash,” Kellan Brown says, slinging his kit over a shoulder. Kellan is one of the investigators who figures out how fires are started.

  “Hey, Captain. You have a cause for this one?”

  “Faulty wiring in the kitchen.”

  I’m surprised. “You sure?”

  “Are you questioning me, Cash? You do understand that I outrank you, and I’ve been doing this job longer than you’ve been a firefighter.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s just that the woman who lives here was so sure it was her son’s drug habit that started the blaze.”

  “I did find paraphernalia in a back room, but I can say with certainty that wasn’t the cause. You were in on this one?”

  “Yes. Everyone got out okay. But something about the boy—I just felt the need to check on things.”

  “They won’t be living here for a while, if ever. The fire damage alone will likely get the house condemned, not to mention what the smoke did.”

  “That’s going to be a hard blow. The woman lost her husband not too long ago.”

  He tosses his bag in the backseat of his car. “Tough break. I’ll see you around, Lieutenant.”

  I lift my chin at him before I turn and stare at the house. I can’t imagine what the boy must be going through. He loses his dad and then his home. Was what he said true? Was he glad his place burned? He said something about hating the house and wanting the ghost of his father to die. Then again, people often say things they don’t mean in stressful situations.

  “Hello?” a woman says behind me.

  It’s the owner of the house. She’s wearing clothes now instead of pajamas. Her face looks worn and tired, and she’s obviously been crying. Her teenage son is standing behind her, staring at their house. I look around for the toddler, but he’s not with them.

  “Hi. I’m Lt. Cash. I was here during the fire.”

  “I don’t remember you,” she says.

  “It’s okay. There was a lot going on.”

  “I saw you talking to that man in the fire department car. Is there an investigation?” She scowls at her kid. “As if we need one.”

  “The cause of the fire was determined to be faulty wiring.”

  “Really?”

  “I told you it wasn’t me,” Jaylen says. “You never believe anything I say.”

  “That’s because you never tell me the truth.” It looks like she’s about to start yelling at him, but then she turns to me. “I’m sorry to be so rude, Lieutenant. I’m Brandi Tiffin, and this is Jaylen.”

  I shake her hand and then his. “Call me Brett. Your other son, is he okay?”

  “He’s fine. We’re staying a few blocks over at my sister’s, until we can figure something out.”

  “Do you have insurance?”

  “We do. My husband was always good about that.”

  “I heard you lost him not too long ago. My condolences.”

  Jaylen kicks a rock on the sidewalk.

  “Thank you,” Brandi says. “Is it okay if we go inside and get a few things?”

  “Someone from the Department of Buildings should show up today and make a determination about its safety, but I doubt the place will collapse if we head inside and let you look around.”

  I follow her up the front steps, then I turn around to see Jaylen still planted on the sidewalk. “You coming, Jaylen?”

  “Jay. She’s the only one who calls me Jaylen.”

  “Okay, Jay. How about we see what we can salvage out of this mess?”

  He looks at the ground and nods sadly.

  Brandi opens a closet under the stairs and pulls out suitcases. She hands one to Jay when he comes through the door. “Pack some clothes for you and Anthony. I’ll be up in a second.”

  Brandi follows him with her eyes as he goes up the stairs, banging the suitcase against each tread. When he reaches the top, she shakes her head. “I don’t know what to do with him. He’s always been somewhat difficult, but it got so much worse after Andre died.”

  “Losing a parent can be hard on a kid.”

  Brandi studies me. “You say that like you know from experience.”

  “I lost my mom when I was eleven.”

  “Oh, dear. I’m sorry.”

  I look at the ceiling. “How old is he?”

  “He just turned fifteen.”

  “Tough age. I’d like to help if I can. With Jay.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I’m not sure yet. Maybe he needs to talk to another guy who’s been through something similar.”

  “I’d be grateful for whatever you could do, Brett.”

  “Do you mind if I go upstairs and check on him?”

  “Please.”

  “Don’t go into the kitchen or family room. I don’t know how stable they are.”

  “I won’t.”

  Upstairs, I find Jay sitting on the floor holding a model car.

  “You like cars?” I ask.

  He drops it like he’s embarrassed. “I’m not two,” he says defiantly.

  “You don’t have to be two to like cars. I’ve always liked them.” There are more models in the room. “You have a lot of these. What’s your favorite?”

  He shrugs.

  “That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”

  “They’re stupid. I don’t build them anymore.” He gets up and goes to the closet.

  It dawns on me that he must have built the models with his father. I peruse his collection. “If they’re so stupid, you won’t mind if I take one then.” I pick up a 1968 Ford Mustang. “This one is a beauty.”

  He walks over and grabs it out of my hands a
nd throws it in his suitcase.

  “You like Mustangs, huh? I have one, you know.”

  “You drive a 1968 Mustang?” he asks curiously.

  “I don’t drive one. It’s in my backyard under a tarp. I’m restoring it. It doesn’t even run though, so I’ve got a long way to go.” I look at him thoughtfully, thinking about how the car has been sitting in my yard for a long time without any attention. “Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t you help me?”

  “Why would you want me to do that?”

  “Because you like Mustangs. And I could use the company.”

  He stares at the model car sitting on top of his clothes. He looks conflicted. “I’m going to be a mechanic. My uncle owns a shop in Harlem. So I know a lot about cars.”

  “Looks like I’m in luck. What do you say, maybe once a week on one of my days off? I’ll even spring for pizza.”

  He’s doing his best to look uninterested, but I can clearly see he is.

  “Pepperoni?” he asks.

  “Whatever you’d like. We’ll have to clear it with your mom.”

  “She won’t care. She doesn’t care what I do.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true.”

  He snorts. “You don’t know her.”

  “No, I don’t. But I’m going to ask her permission anyway.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  An hour later, after the three of us roll their suitcases over to Brandi’s sister’s house, I give Jay and his mother my address and phone number. “How about we get started tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow?” Jay says, like he doesn’t believe I’m serious about him helping me.

  “Why not? Unless you have something better to do.”

  He’s going to bail on the whole thing. I can see it in his eyes.

  “Tomorrow will be perfect,” Brandi says. “What time do you want him there?”

  “How about I come get you at eleven?” I ask him.

  He clenches his jaw. “I’m fifteen. I can get there by myself.”

  “Of course you can. See you then.”

  Brandi follows me. “I appreciate what you’re doing, but don’t be surprised if he doesn’t show up. Jaylen lies about everything lately.”

  “I’ve got his number. I’ll see that he gets there.”

  She smiles. “Even if it doesn’t work out, thank you for trying. It’s been so hard.”

  I briefly touch her arm. “It’ll take time, but things will get better.”

  “I hope you’re right,” she says as I walk away.

  I hope I’m right, too.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Emma

  Evelyn is lying on her bed with her earbuds in. I lie down next to her and pull her into a hug for the umpteenth time since she returned a few days ago.

  “What’s that for?” she asks.

  “It’s just nice to have you home.”

  “I was only gone for two weeks.”

  “But it felt like forever. I don’t know what I’m going to do when you go off to college.”

  She looks at me with crazy eyes. “I’m twelve. We have plenty of time to get used to that idea.”

  “I know. It just seems like only yesterday I was bringing you home from the hospital.”

  She nudges me. “You always say that.”

  “It’s always true. Wait until you have a child of your own.” I lean on an elbow and give her a hard look. “Which should be in no less than fifteen or twenty years.”

  Evelyn laughs. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to repeat your mistakes.”

  I brush a stray hair behind her ear. “I have never once thought of you as a mistake. You are the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  Her smile becomes a frown.

  “What is it, sweetie?”

  She looks over at her dresser. On it is the only picture she has of her father. Actually, it’s a series of pictures of the two of us from one of those photo booths at the mall. My God, we were so young. I was only a few years older than Evelyn is now.

  She shrugs.

  I sigh, knowing what’s on her mind. Every so often she brings up the idea of finding Stefan. She’s even suggested going to Germany. I understand the urge. I’ve tried to put myself in her shoes, and I guess I’d want the same thing. But he’s too far away, and I wouldn’t even know where to start. What keeps me from putting more effort into it—other than the fact that I don’t fly—is that I don’t want her to be disappointed. What if we found him and he rejected her? I don’t see it turning out any other way. If he’d wanted to be part of her life, he would have contacted me a long time ago.

  She says, “Hey, aren’t you going to be late for Taco Tuesday?”

  “I can skip it and stay home.”

  “Grandma’s here.”

  “Yes, but I can skip it if you want me to.”

  She shakes her head. “It’s important for you be with your friends. You don’t want to disappoint them.”

  I study her, thinking, not for the first time, how she is like a grown woman in a child’s body. My feisty daughter is wise beyond her years. Sometimes I wonder who is parenting whom in this relationship. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

  “You could never. You’re the best mom I’ve ever had.”

  We both laugh.

  “Besides, Grandma said she’d make popcorn and watch Divergent with me again.”

  “Aren’t you getting tired of that movie?”

  “It’s a cinematic masterpiece, Mom. Don’t diss my favorite movie of all time.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it, sweetie.” I kiss her and hop off the bed. “Don’t wait up.”

  “Be safe,” she says. “Make wise choices.”

  I laugh. “Yes, Mom.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Becca and her boyfriend—fellow teacher, Jordan—are already sitting at a large table when Lisa, Kelly, Rachel, Michelle and I walk in and join them. Jordan is the only man who comes to Taco Tuesday. He’s only one of a handful of male teachers at our school. We’ve asked others to come, and some have tried over the years, but none of them stuck with the group as the seven of us have.

  “What’s up with Becca?” Lisa asks. “She’s practically bouncing out of her chair.”

  “She’s probably happy that Emma is back,” Kelly says. “We missed you last week.”

  Becca is almost bursting at the seams with giddiness. “That’s not it,” I say. “Something’s up.”

  Before we can take our seats, Becca holds out her left hand so we can all see the brand-new ring on her finger. “We’re engaged!” she shouts.

  After we all scream, and fawn over the ring, we settle into the booth.

  Jordan takes Becca’s hand and looks into her eyes. “After what happened … well, you just never know how much time you’re going to have with someone, so why wait?”

  “When’s the wedding?” Kelly asks.

  “End of the summer,” Becca says. “We’ll take our honeymoon the week before we return to school.”

  “Seven weeks?” I ask. “That’s not a lot of time to plan a wedding.”

  “We don’t need a huge fancy affair. We’re going to get married at Jordan’s parents’ church just outside the city.”

  “We’ll help you plan it,” I say. “It will be spectacular.”

  “Thanks, guys. That means a lot to us.”

  “How have you two been doing?” Michelle asks, motioning to Becca and me. “You know, since the incident.”

  Becca and I look at each other. We both know she got over it a lot quicker than I did.

  “We’re good,” Becca says.

  Kelly stares at me. “Have you been back to the school yet?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What does that mean?” she asks.

  “I made it to the corner this morning, but I couldn’t go in. I did check on the Shettlemans though.”

  “I could go with you,” Kelly says. “Maybe we all could. We’ll meet up and give you support.”

  I think of Br
ett and all the support he’s given me over the past week. “Thanks, but I’ve got it covered.”

  Lisa’s eyes sparkle. “What aren’t you telling us, Emma?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You got all dreamy-eyed.”

  “Huh?”

  “You know what I’m talking about,” she says. “Who is he?”

  My cheeks pink.

  Becca pounces. “You’re blushing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you blush.” She straightens as realization dawns. “Oh my God, it’s the fireman, isn’t it? The way you talked about him at the police station that night, I knew you wanted him.”

  “The fireman?” Rachel asks.

  “He helped us,” Becca says. “He’s the one who saved us. It’s him, isn’t it? Come on, Emma, spill.”

  “First off, I wasn’t all dreamy-eyed. The firefighter from the incident is the one helping me get back to the school. I get a little farther every day. He’s been great and not pushy.” I see the way they’re all looking at me, like they’re waiting to find out how he swept me off my feet. “Quit looking at me like that. It’s not what you’re thinking.”

  “Oh, really?” Kelly asks. “How did it come about that the two of you met up? Did he call to check on you?”

  “I took muffins to the firehouse.”

  Lisa muffles a squeal. “You like him!”

  “I don’t like him. I wanted to thank all of them, and he was there.”

  “Oh, he just happened to be there,” Becca says suspiciously.

  “Yes,” I say, not offering that I’d called ahead to make sure.

  “And how many times have you seen him?” Lisa asks.

  “Three.”

  “Holy shit,” Becca says. “When should we plan the wedding?”

  My jaw goes slack. “Stop it. We aren’t dating. We aren’t doing anything.”

  “But you want to,” Michelle says.

  “No, I don’t,” I force myself to say. “He’s a fireman.”

  “Uh, yeah,” Rachel says. “Why the hell wouldn’t you want to date a hot, hunky fireman who’s a hero?”

  Everyone else at the table stares Rachel down until she gets it.

  “Oh, God. I’m sorry, Emma. I forgot about your dad. I didn’t mean to be so insensitive.”