by Lili Valente
She thrashes once, letting out a pitiful honk, but quickly goes still as Deacon turns us around and starts back toward shore.
“I think she’s in shock,” I whisper, not wanting to upset her even more. “We’ll need to get her to the vet right away. We have a wild animal guy on call at the shelter, but it will take at least an hour to get to Healdsburg in this traffic. Think there’s anyone closer?”
“There’s a vet here in town,” Deacon says. “She’s not open on Sundays, but she’ll come in for an emergency. I’ll get one of the other volunteers to run the bird over there as soon as we’re on shore.”
“I can do it. Just tell me the address and—”
“No. You’re going to the first aid tent to get checked out.”
My eyebrows snap together, and the hairs on the back of my neck prickle to attention. “I’d rather go with her. She’s calm with me. It’s important not to put her through any more stress than absolutely necessary.”
“And it’s important you don’t get hypothermia. I mean, assuming you care about being there when your daughter gets home tonight.”
“Of course I care,” I snap, but softly, so as not to upset my patient. “For your information, I’m an excellent parent.”
He grunts, and my blood pressure rises a few more degrees.
“What’s that supposed to mean? That grunt?”
“It means that from where I’m sitting, your priorities are out of order.”
My clenched jaw drops, but before I can ask him where he gets off judging my priorities or anything else, my feet touch bottom, and I’m too busy scrambling onto shore to bother. My dress clings to my legs, making me fight for every step as I stumble across the gravel, carrying the bird into the waiting arms of a man in a Russian River Volunteer Fire Department T-shirt who’s holding a gray blanket I hope my patient will find comforting.
“We’ve already called Sarah at the animal hospital,” the man tells Deacon, cradling the goose against his broad chest with a tenderness that makes me feel better about trusting her in a stranger’s hands. “She’s going to meet us there in a few minutes.”
“Good.” Deacon’s fingers close around my upper arm, sending twin flashes of annoyance and awareness sizzling across my chilled skin. “I’m going to escort Violet to the first aid tent. Tell Ferris to take point until I get back, and have Hoover put a call into the firehouse, let them know we may need reinforcements if we lose any more staff.”
The man nods. “Got it, boss.”
He turns, carrying the goose away, and my heart does a sad flip in my chest. A part of me wants to hurry after him, stay right by that wounded creature’s side until she’s nursed back to health, and then take her home to live happily ever after. But my house is overflowing with animals already, she’ll be better off in the wild, and I apparently have a bossy-jerk-mandated appointment with the first aid tent.
“Come on, let’s get you checked out,” Deacon says, his voice gruff.
“I can find my way on my own,” I say, squirming my arm free. “Wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”
“You’ve already inconvenienced me, and I’m soaked. I need to dry off, and they’ve got towels in the tent.” He glances down at my dress. “You should probably get out of those wet clothes, too.”
And that’s all it takes—just the mention of getting out of my clothes from the lips of this frustrating, rage-stroke-inducing man—and my already-hard nipples pull even tighter. Electricity dances across my skin, and heat rushes up my neck, and it’s suddenly all I can do not to wrap my arms around Deacon’s shoulders and drag his mouth down to mine.
I want to kiss him hard, so hard and deep that he won’t have any breath left to boss me around. I want to show him with my lips, teeth, and tongue just how much I can’t stand him. I want to rip off my wet clothes, get skin to skin with every irritating inch of him, and ride him until the urge to strangle him fades away in the supernova of pleasure that rips through my body every time he puts his hands on it.
Those presumptuous hands that are, even now, settling on my waist, lifting me up onto the boardwalk like I weigh less than the goose I just handed over.
“Get moving.” He nods toward the parking lot and the festival tents beyond. “The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can go our separate ways.”
“Good.” I lift my chin. “Because I, for one, don’t like having murderous thoughts about people. I’m a pacifist.”
His lips quirk, and his blue eyes do a flashing, sparkling thing that makes my knees weak.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “What?”
I motion toward his maddening—and gorgeous—face. “That look.”
“I was just thinking you’re awfully confrontational for a pacifist.”
“I am not,” I snap, nose scrunching when his brows curve into a “see what I mean?” squiggle. “Fine.” I sigh. “You could have a point. A small point. I’ll go to the first aid tent without a fight, but I would like my reluctance to be noted.”
“Noted,” he says with another smug grin I’d like to slap off his face.
But that wouldn’t be very peace-loving, either. So I don’t.
I follow him to the first aid area with my arms crossed over my chest, keeping my hands, and my traitorous nipples, to myself.
CHAPTER 6
DEACON
O ne look at the pair of us, soaked to the skin and shivering in the cool wind, and the two nurses at the first aid tent leap into action.
“Oh, you poor things, did you fall overboard?” The female nurse with curly red hair bustles Violet behind a privacy partition on one side of the tent without waiting for an answer. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you all fixed up and dried out. There should be a stack of towels back there. Wrap up in one, give me your dress, and I’ll pop up to the main lodge and throw it into the dryer.”
“Thank you so much,” Violet says.
She continues to speak—something about the goose and the animal hospital—that I lose track of as I’m bustled through the tent’s back exit by the second nurse. We emerge into a private grassy area surrounded by trees, where several lawn chairs are arranged in front of a clothesline strung with beach towels.
“I can take your clothes up to the dryer, too, if you want.” He grins as he brushes a hand back and forth over his tightly curled hair—also red, making me wonder if he and the other nurse are related. “Or you can hang your clothes on the line and chill out in your boxers back here.” He nods toward the chairs with a wink. “I’ll make sure no one bothers you. Except maybe me, when I get off my shift in an hour.”
“Thanks,” I say, with an only slightly uncomfortable laugh. After growing up next door to one of the hottest LGBTQ vacation spots in the country, you’d think I’d be used to getting hit on by other guys by now. And I am. Mostly. “But I’m on duty. And I’ve got another shirt in my truck. I will use your line, though, if that’s all right. I can hang up my wet shirt and come get it later.”
“Totally. Whatever you want, doll.” He nods over his shoulder. “I’m Kip, by the way. I’m heading up to the main lodge with Melody to grab some more water bottles. Make yourself at home, and if anyone comes looking for us, tell them we’ll be back in the shake of a lamb’s tail, okay?”
“Got it,” I say, turning my back as he ducks into the tent. I strip off my shirt, feeling better almost instantly. Wet jeans aren’t enjoyable by any stretch, but I really can’t stand the feel of a wet T-shirt clinging to me like a second skin.
I’m about to hang it on the line, when a soft sound behind me makes me glance over my shoulder to see Violet standing barefoot in the grass, wearing nothing but a rainbow-colored beach towel wrapped around her tempting little body.
Her gaze drags slowly from my hips to my chest with a weight I can almost feel. Her fingers tighten on the fabric clutched around her chest, and her toes curl into the grass, and the last of my irritation evaporates in a rush of lust
so intense my hands tremble as I toss my T-shirt onto the clothesline.
Half the time, this woman drives me up the wall.
But the other half…
“I, um… I…” She trails off with a gentle shake of her head. “I forgot what I came out here to say.”
The other half, she makes me want her with an intensity that’s flat-out crazy, dangerous, and ill-fucking-advised.
I value boundaries, logic, and level-headed interpersonal interactions. It’s one of the reasons I’ve never done drugs and rarely drink to excess—I don’t like being out of control. But one look at Violet Boden and I’m a junkie prepared to do whatever it takes to get his fix.
If I knew what’s good for me, I’d head back into the tent, grab a towel, and get out of here before I do something I’ll regret. Violet isn’t interested. She’s made that clear on numerous occasions. Continuing to pursue her is an exercise in futility and embarrassment—neither of which I enjoy.
Too bad that doesn’t stop me from eating up the distance between us, wrapping my arm around Violet’s waist, and pulling her close.
Her breath rushes out as her hands settle on my bare chest, but she doesn’t push me away. Her fingers curl against my skin as she bites down on her bottom lip with a hungry moan that goes straight to my already aching balls. Before I know what I’m doing, my hand is fisted in her damp hair and my lips are devouring hers.
And from the first taste of her—of her absolute sweetness—I’m desperate for more. Ravenous. Starved for her touch and her breath warm on my skin and her pleasure washing over me in thick, sticky waves that make me desperate to take her. To show her how good it’s going to feel when we stop fucking with words and make touch our primary mode of communication.
I don’t need words. All I need are her nails digging into my shoulders and her hips arching closer to my cock and those breathy sounds she makes that let me know I’m doing everything right.
“We have to stop,” she pants against my lips, even as her fingers dive into my hair, pulling me closer still.
“I don’t want to stop. I want my tongue between your legs,” I say, groaning as she shudders against me and her leg skims up to wrap around my thigh. “I’m off at four. We’ll go to my place. I’ll make you dinner.”
“I don’t want dinner.” Her head falls back, and I devour her neck, biting and kissing as her grip tightens in my hair. “I don’t need food.”
“Me, either. All I need is your body.” My heart jerks hard in my chest, threatening to stop beating as she rocks her hips forward, rubbing against my erection through my damp jeans. “God, Violet, I want to be inside you so fucking much. I want to take you right here on the grass.”
“Yes.” She sucks in a breath as I reach between the folds of her towel, finding the soft curls between her legs and gliding two fingers inside where she’s already so slick and hot. “Now. Yes. Please. Inside me.”
“We can’t,” I say, the logical side of my brain shouting to be heard over the lust monster breathing fire into my veins.
“It’s private back here,” she says. “No one will see.”
“Kip and Melody will be back any minute.”
“Then we’d better hurry.” Violet reaches for the close of my jeans, but I catch her fingers, stopping her before she can pull my cock out in public at an event where I’m supposed to be organizing ten other volunteer firefighters.
But a part of me doesn’t want to stop her.
A part of me wants to roll Violet down to the ground, unwrap her like the best Christmas present ever, and fuck her on the grass in plain view of Kip or anyone else who decides to step through to the back of the first aid tent. I want her that much, that desperately, that insanely.
It’s insane, what she does to me. Truly fucking crazy.
“Woah. Hold up.” I step back, lifting my arms into the air at my sides in surrender.
But this doesn’t feel like giving in, it feels like begging for mercy, for strength, for the real Deacon to show the hell up and keep junkie Deacon from making a career-and-reputation killing mistake. I’m at the top of the list for the next Volunteer Fire Chief, one of the only paid positions in the volunteer department. But I’m sure that would change if I were caught in flagrante delicto with the drowning victim I just pulled out of the river.
And I want that job. Badly.
I want to feel useful again, to stop filling my days as an unpaid hired hand on my father’s farm and wishing I’d been able to retire from the Air Force two years earlier, when my boys were still at home. Before they went off to college and left me feeling like a boring, used up old fogey too hopelessly out of touch to be of any interest to the kids who have been my reason for living for so long.
Putting that at risk to get my rocks off would be as stupid as jumping into freezing water to save a bird most people would gladly eat for dinner.
“This can’t happen,” I say, taking another step back. “Seriously.”
“Fine.” Violet crosses her arms over her chest, tucking the towel more firmly around that body I’m dying to have bared to me again.
Just not here. Or now.
I’m about to suggest we meet by my truck at four, when I’ll be free to whisk her away to a more suitable location, when Violet jerks her chin higher. “If you’ll remember, I’m the one who tried to stop first.” She motions between us. “Because this can’t happen. Like I said last night, we aren’t a good fit.”
“And like I said, you barely know me.” I prop my hands low on my hips, digging my fingers into damp jean fabric instead of Violet’s addictive skin. “I mean, clearly there’s chemistry here.”
She blinks faster, but her nose stays firmly in the air. “Chemistry isn’t enough to sustain a relationship, and I’m not into random hookups.”
I arch a brow, and irritation flickers across her features.
“Okay. Fine. Yes.” She wiggles her fingers at the ground. “So I was up for banging in the grass a few minutes ago, but that’s just further proof that we’re a bad idea. I’m not usually like this. I usually make reasonable decisions.”
My lips part, but before I can speak, she rushes on.
“And yes, jumping into the river to save that goose was a reasonable decision. One I would make again. Because life is precious and worth defending. But this…” She eases back a step until her shoulders brush the towel hung on the line behind her. “This is a waste of your time. And mine.”
Stung more than I would like to admit, I clench my jaw and nod stiffly. “Then I guess I won’t be seeing you around.”
She swallows. “I guess not.”
“Fine,” I say.
“Fine,” she echoes.
And it is fine. Just fucking fine.
So why do I still want to kiss her so badly that my hand is shaking as I snatch my shirt from the line and head for the exit, leaving the first aid tent—and Violet Boden—far behind.
CHAPTER 7
From the texts of Violet Boden
and Mina Smalls
Mina: Just checking to make sure you got home okay. I hate that you took a car service without asking me to drive you first. I wouldn’t have minded at all. Anyway, now I’m worried you were kidnapped by a rogue Uber driver. Text me, okay?
* * *
Violet: Sorry! Didn’t mean to worry you. I got home and got busy feeding the animals and forgot to text. But yes, I’m fine, everything’s fine.
* * *
Mina: You didn’t seem fine when you called before. You seemed upset.
* * *
Violet: No, just…rattled, I guess.
* * *
Mina: Well, who can blame you?! You almost drowned!
* * *
Violet: I did not almost drown. I was fine.
* * *
Mina: You were under the water an awfully long time, Vi. I know I was happy to see a gorgeous firefighter swimming to your rescue.
* * *
Violet: But I didn’t need rescuing. Especia
lly by Deacon Jerkface Hunter.
* * *
Mina: What? Why? What did he do? OMG, he didn’t cop a feel or something while he was saving you, did he? Leave it to a man to be dumb enough to ruin heroism by getting handsy.
* * *
Violet: No, nothing like that. He’s just a jerk. A steaming hot, bossy jerk. I swear, he makes me want to claw his eyes out, and I never feel that way. About anyone. But something about him sets my teeth on edge. He’s like the human equivalent of nails on a chalkboard. Or bubblegum in your hair. Or gnats in your lemonade.
* * *
Mina: OMG. He’s the one! He’s the guy!
* * *
Violet: What guy?
* * *
Mina: The one who Sleeping Beautied your vagina!
* * *
Violet: Sigh…
* * *
Mina: Ha!! I knew it! He’s the guy who’s been driving you crazy, and he jumped into a freezing river to save you! Oh, Violet, it’s so romantic!
* * *
Violet: It is not romantic. I didn’t need saving!
* * *
Mina: Okay, fine, so you didn’t need saving. But he didn’t know that. He saw you go under and leaped to the rescue. I think it’s lovely. Most of the men I’ve dated in the past year wouldn’t jump into a hot tub to save me, let alone a freezing cold river with a rushing current and a dangerously pissed-off goose on the loose.
* * *