by Anne Conley
Hollywood, standing across the room, raised his hand and spoke at the same time. Such an eager beaver. Zane wondered if he’d ever be able to look at the man and not hear Snoop Dogg in his head.
Everyone knew Steve hated interruptions, but Hollywood needed to learn on his own. “Any suspects yet?”
About half the room rolled their eyes. The other half just watched with bated breath, waiting for the chief to explode at him. Zane looked over and saw the chief was in the rolling eyes camp, and he smothered his grin.
“No. And if there were, I wouldn’t share it. I just need you guys to be on the lookout for someone who fits the following profile and let me know. Period.” Steve clicked a button on his laptop and a new screen came up with a bulleted list, which he proceeded to read out loud for the dumbasses in the room. “This kid is an adolescent with poor interpersonal skills. He doesn’t get along with people at all and probably has issues with authority. He’s irresponsible, impulsive, and probably doesn’t do well in school. There’s likely been a traumatic event or an event he finds traumatic that he’s reacting to with these fires. This is his way of expressing himself. This profile states he has probably set fires at school, so I’m working with the principal on this as well. There was a string of trashcan fires in restrooms last year, but they were all contained before smoke alarms went off, so we weren’t made aware of them. This is something I’m looking to fix in their policy, by the way.” He clicked a button on his laptop and a new screen came up with a new bulleted list. “Now, this part is important, guys. No cowboys on this. Most likely, the kid will be embarrassed when he’s caught and will be receptive to punishment and stuff. Something caused him to do this. He’s not a psychopath. I know that’s hard for you guys to understand and relate to but, so far, he’s crying out for help with these fires. His guardians and parents have probably tried to help him straighten up, and when they figure out he’s behind these fires, a lot of embarrassment will happen for them as well. He’s peer dominated, not a leader in his group of friends, and possibly an outcast. He comes from a dysfunctional family and has inadequate supervision, which gives him all sorts of free time for this stuff. If you catch him in the act, apprehend him without fanfare. Don’t make a big deal. Just bring him in safely and quietly. Most likely, he won’t run.”
Steve stood after clicking one more screen. “Now, he’s setting these fires using an unsophisticated method, but it appears to have been successful so far. He’s liable to hurt himself eventually because he’s been damn lucky up to this point. He’s using appliances, filling them with gasoline, and plugging them into extension cords. This one,” he leaned over and clicked to the next slide, showing an office building that had been burned late last year, “was a toaster. He almost got hurt here, and if we’d caught him, we’d have a lot less damage to downtown. After this, he started using longer extension cords so he’d be further away from the blast.”
Zane payed close attention, remembering each one of the fires and practically scrambling his brains to remember any kids hanging around that shouldn’t have been there. For each fire, there was a slide showing the evidence of arson and the method used. As firefighters, this should go against everything inside the men in this room. They were trained to fight fires. They lived to instill fire safety in people to prevent fires. Their blood ran thick with prevention. Period. To think someone in their town was purposely setting fires and putting people in danger was against everything they stood for.
It was madness.
Clearly, this was someone who didn’t understand the nature of the beast. Fire was practically a living, breathing thing in Zane’s eyes. When one was started, it wasn’t happy until it consumed everything in its path or was killed. Zane and the rest of the men surrounding him were the killers. To know there was somebody in the tiny town of Pamona Gulch giving life to the very thing they were trained and designed to kill gave him a new resolve. As the slouches in the room turned ramrod straight, he saw he wasn’t the only one.
They were going to get this kid and string him and his parents up by meat hooks.
Zane didn’t know when he’d started it, but he realized he was now rubbing his shoulder where he’d been burned. The scar tingled sometimes, mostly when he remembered the dumb mistake he’d made when his brother had come home from college. They’d run out of gas in his 1972 Chevy truck, the ancient, growly beast that had been Alreck’s pride and joy. Zane had put a little bit of gas in the carburetor and, being the drunk he was at the time, had splashed just enough to flame up and catch his shirtsleeve on fire. He was too drunk to stop, drop, and roll like he’d been taught as a kid.
The experience had left him scarred and with a new lease on life. He rarely got that drunk anymore, never tried to toss gasoline on a hot carburetor, and had developed a heady respect for fire in general.
As well as a career—one this arsonist was flaunting.
Zane could have died that night in a drunken stupor and had used his seventeen-year-old stupidity to shape his adult life.
He wasn’t the only man in this room with reasons for becoming a firefighter, and although his wasn’t even the most compelling reason, it was his reason.
That night, they gathered at Mo’s to discuss it, and they’d all invited their women for support. Clearly, Zane wasn’t the only one feeling betrayed by members of their community.
“So … Elliot’s nephew fits the profile,” Joey muttered, almost hesitantly, cutting his eyes to Logan as he spoke.
Logan shrugged. “Yeah, that kid’s had some issues, but he seems to be adjusting here fine. At least, that’s what Elliot tells me, and that dude would come to me with problems. But I’ll ask.” Logan and Elliot were friends from way back, like brothers. But when Elliot moved here, he came with a ready-made family and hadn’t spent the time with Logan they’d all expected him to. Sure, he came out occasionally, but after one night where Elliot had gotten so drunk he didn’t even recognize London, his woman, he had pretty much stopped drinking.
“Almost everyone has issues though,” Annette pointed out. “Half this town is only here to escape some aspect of their past, and the other half is starting from scratch. Kids included.”
Logan grunted at Annette’s words, and everyone took that as agreement.
Jude pointed out the obvious. “That’s probably thirds or something, honey. There’s a portion of us born here.”
“Okay, fine. Half the people in town are probably transplants, so half of that then. That still leaves a quarter of this town with issues.”
Zane squeezed Lettie who was sitting on his lap. She hadn’t protested when he’d put her there. He wanted the guys and everyone else who was looking at them to know they were together. It was a claiming, yes, but it was also comfortable. He leaned his head on her back, thinking.
He’d moved here, so that made him a transplant, but he hadn’t been escaping a torrid past nor trying to start over. He’d just moved on from his family and thought this was a nice place to live with a great fire department. Granted, it had its issues, like all towns and fire departments. But without the issues, he wouldn’t have met Lettie, and as far as he was concerned, that made this place perfect.
Zane inhaled the warmth of her back, smelling the sweet scent that was just her. If someone could bottle that shit, they’d be millionaires. Her soft curves under his rough fingers were like a balm, soothing the beast that had been roaring for blood since the meeting. He settled his chin on her shoulder and watched the rest of the table.
“Where’s Katie?” Lettie asked as she used her finger to swipe some salt off the rim of her margarita glass. Zane zeroed in on the motion, especially when she plucked her finger between her lips and sucked off the salt. He stifled a groan and she giggled, apparently feeling it through his chest.
“She just left with a guy about an hour ago.”
“Her brother fits the profile t
oo,” Annette pointed out as Logan stood.
“You guys can sit here and point fingers all night long, but it won’t get anywhere. I’m hitting it. Talk to y’all tomorrow.” Logan stormed out, his motions contradicting his words. He’d stiffened up at Vivian’s mention of Katie, and Zane chuckled into Lettie’s back.
After he left, Zane peeked over Lettie’s shoulder. “Who wants to start a pot on when they finally get together? Dude’s got a hard-on for her the size of Texas.”
Speaking of hard-ons.
He squeezed Lettie’s waist and made a subtle hip motion, telling her exactly what he had in mind. It wasn’t ten minutes and they’d made their excuses to leave.
In the truck on the way to Lettie’s apartment, they were quiet. Zane knew Lettie was embarrassed about what had happened that made her lose her job, even though, in her words, “What’s done is done.” But he was conscious of the fact she suddenly had no cash, so he was driving her everywhere she would allow—so she could save gas—and doing all sorts of things to try to help her out.
It would save so much more if she would just stay with him. He didn’t even have to bring it up to know she would veto the idea though.
He opened her door when they got there, and she got out, leading the way to her apartment, which ironically didn’t allow pets. The animal whisperer didn’t even have a pet of her own. Zane followed her inside and looked around.
Lettie was clearly nervous at having him in her surroundings. She twisted her hands together anxiously as he looked around her space.
Then a loud rumble from her stomach filled the small room and he couldn’t help but chuckle.
Zane’s amusement was visible as he turned on his heel and went into her kitchen. Mortified, Lettie followed him, knowing her kitchen was lacking … well, everything.
“Um. There’s a hotplate and a couple of pans, but I don’t have much else.”
“I’ll make do.” Zane opened her lone cabinet, taking stock of its contents before moving on to her pantry, such as it was. Three shelves in the corner didn’t leave much room for things like food. And her refrigerator wasn’t much better.
This apartment was supposed to be temporary, but Lettie had already stayed longer than she’d initially planned. When had she become so complacent? She looked around the tiny loft area and realized she hadn’t wanted to take any sort of chance. She’d come to this town after transferring across the country and considered she was finished taking chances. She’d survived the move and wasn’t going to take another chance on anything in the near future.
She’d settled for the cheapest place she could find, never mind that it didn’t allow pets. That was the biggest downfall of the place because animals really were her only escape from people. She’d gone to work, worked a lot more than necessary, and come home, telling herself she needed to embrace her weirdness, she didn’t need people, and that was that.
Lettie was supposed to move out of this apartment and into a bigger one as soon as the tourist season was over a month ago, but she hadn’t. She’d gotten comfortable in this shoebox, telling herself she didn’t deserve better, even as she used the “deserving better” excuse to not date.
Zane was clanging around in her kitchen like he knew what he was doing, and she was in the living room, six feet away, having a mental breakdown.
Zane had come into her life like an explosion, and suddenly, she was in a relationship, and he was hinting around for her to move in with him. Now that he’d seen where she lived, she didn’t doubt he would put the full-court press on her like he had after they’d slept together.
At the bar earlier, she’d seen how Annette and Vivian had interacted with Jude and Joey. They seemed to really love and respect each other, and Lettie had to admit, she wanted a relationship like that. Would she get it with Zane?
If she turned up pregnant tomorrow, would she be as happy about it as Annette and Jude seemed to be?
Would Zane?
How much of their lives had changed when they’d gotten together?
How much had they given up for their men?
Biting her lip, Lettie realized that was her main issue. She didn’t want to lose herself in Zane, and she knew it was an enormous possibility. He was larger than life, handsome, and his smile sucked all the air out of the room. It would be impossible to be with him and not get pulled into that energy. It was like they each had a separate energy, a fog, that swirled around them individually. But when they were with one another, the energy melded together and formed something completely different. Did Lettie want to be different?
A shudder ran through her, and she couldn’t tell if it was excitement that this man was going to change her or revulsion that this man was going to change her.
As it was, he was currently in her tiny kitchen trying to make her dinner because she was hungry. She’d been expecting sex. In fact, she’d put clean sheets on the bed during his meeting this morning before going to his house to continue the cleanup. And he was cooking for her.
She watched him as he whistled an absent tune, moving around her space like he owned it. His efficiency of movements spoke of a comfort in her kitchen she didn’t even have. His broad shoulders flexed and moved as he jiggled the pan of something he’d found. Rice? There wasn’t even any water in it.
Weird.
But Zane moved around her kitchen like he knew what he was doing, and that was more than she could say for herself. She barely even remembered her grandma’s recipes and she’d been raised around them.
She tried to remember things her grandma and grandpa had told her about love, way back when she listened to them about that sort of thing.
When she’d had her first date, her grandpa had taken her fishing that morning, which did so much for her jitters, even if the date was Bryan Fargo, a complete dud. He’d told her to always respect herself and he would respect her. He’d told her true love meant bringing out the best in someone in addition to the worst.
Years later, after Grandpa had died, Grandma told her she’d lived for him, and now that he was dead, she could live for herself.
Lettie had hated that.
In the abstract, living for someone else sounded awful. And it was completely counterintuitive to what Grandpa had said about respecting yourself. How could you respect yourself and live for someone else?
But that was in the abstract—words spoken to a teenager and then to a twenty-something who had never known love.
She started, sitting up straight on the couch.
Holy shit. Is that what this is? Love?
She thought about it.
Lettie totally respected herself around Zane. In fact, she’d probably respected herself so much she’d pushed him away at every turn until he’d worn down her defenses. She’d called it self-respect, but in actuality she’d been scared he would hurt her.
Stupid kissing theory.
But the living for someone else? She didn’t think Grandma meant she had to do everything Zane told her to. That meant commitment—committing to another person and being there for them when they needed you. Like tonight, when they’d been talking about the arsonist at the bar.
He’d needed her for that. She didn’t totally understand why, but he had, and she’d been there for him.
As had Annette and Vivian for Jude and Joey.
And he was bringing out some good things in her as well. Like the whole peopling thing. Lettie had made friends and actually hung out with them a few times. And she felt richer for it.
And lighter.
Lettie was quickly coming to the conclusion she loved Zane. Should she tell him? Or would he completely freak out?
Whoops. There goes that fear thing again.
Clenching her fists together at her thighs, Lettie stood and faced him, breathing deeply a couple of times.
“Zane?”
He turned, his face inquisitive, and his smile was bright. God, he was so stinking beautiful.
“Yeah?” He put a lid on the pan on the stove and walked over to her. It took about two steps because he was massive, and her apartment was tiny, but those two steps seemed to take forever.
“Nope. Don’t touch me. I need to say something, and if you touch … Yeah. Just … don’t.”
“Okay.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and devoured her with a suddenly serious expression on his face, his eyebrows hovering just above his dark eyes. “What’s up?”
“I’m just gonna lay it all out there for you, okay? So just listen a minute.” She licked her lips and went for it. “I’m weird. And you’ve broken down all my walls, and now I have feelings for you, feelings that go beyond caring for you. But I’m weird, and I’m liable to do something weird and scare you off, but I won’t have a clue what it is, so you have to talk to me, okay? Tell me what I do? Just … don’t hurt me. I’ve been with guys, but you’re different, and I want to be with you. Like you want.”
He stood there, silently watching her until she was finished speaking. And then he stood there some more. Silence—thick in the air—stretched between them. Zane looked at the ground, then back up to Lettie.
“Hang on a second.” He spun around and turned off the stove before returning to her. “I’m gonna kiss the hell out of you now. Then I’m gonna make love to you so soft and slow until you don’t remember who we are anymore. You okay with that? Because I’m a little weird too, and those are the sweetest words I’ve ever heard in my life.”