The Panty Melter

by Lili Valente

  I squeeze his arm. “It’s fine. I didn’t expect to be singing badly in front of this many of your friends, but it’ll be a good test.”

  “A test of what?” he asks.

  “Of whether you’re as okay with dating a woman who sings like a dying swan as you’re pretending to be.”

  He laughs. “Stop it. You’re not that bad.”

  “Oh, I am,” I assure him. “I tried to sing lullabies to the girls when they were babies, but they’d end up crying their eyes out. Every time. Even infants can sense that something isn’t right with all this.” I gesture toward my throat and mouth.

  “I like all that,” Deacon says, wrapping an arm around my waist. “And I don’t care if you’re the worst singer in California, but you don’t have to sing if you don’t want to. I can swing by the DJ stand and take your name off the list.”

  I shake my head. “Nope. I’m getting up there. I don’t back down from things that scare me. In fact…” I pull away from his embrace, digging into my purse until I find my phone. “I’m going to text my friend Mina and see if she wants to join us.” I pull up Mina’s contact and jab at the letters with my thumbs. “She has an incredible voice and is always telling me that anyone can learn to sing. This would be a great opportunity to show her just how wrong she is about that.” I glance up at Deacon. “I mean, if that’s okay with you? I figured since we’re on a group date anyway…”

  He nods. “Yeah. Text her. The more, the merrier.”

  I hit send, and we head for the table full of firefighters, already the loudest corner of the room. I don’t know if all first responders love to party as much as these volunteers, but by the time Mina arrives an hour later, looking adorable in a pair of overalls and a black turtleneck, paired with a beret perched on her caramel-colored curls, things are getting downright rowdy. Deacon’s friend Ferris is seeing how many empty bottles he can balance on his forehead, and his twin sister, Fiona, is trying to convince two of the other men to help her stand on her head while she takes an Angry Dragon shot.

  “Wow, I had no idea karaoke was a contact sport,” Mina says, laughing as she’s jostled closer to the wall when Hoover leaps off the stage after his performance of “Paradise by the Dashboard Light,” setting off a chain reaction in the rest of the crowd.

  “I know.” I squeeze her hand. “Are you going to be okay alone when I head up there? I’m probably after Deacon since he put our names in at the same time.”

  Mina flutters breezy fingers. “Please, woman. You know I go out all the time. I’m a professional at this point. Crowds don’t scare me.” She leans closer, adding beneath her breath. “And thank you for the invite to the hot firefighter convention, by the way. I mean, you’ve got the hottest one, of course,” she says, motioning toward where Deacon is climbing the steps leading up to the stage, “but there are a few I wouldn’t kick out of bed for eating crackers. And I don’t see wedding rings.”

  I nudge her ribs with my elbow. “Go for it girl. If you can get a word in edgewise.” I cast a pointed look at Busty, who I now know is named Karen, but who will always be Busty McChattykins to me. The woman hasn’t stopped talking since I sat down, though, she did stop touching Deacon every five seconds, which was nice.

  Mina smirks. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll separate one from the herd and have him all to myself by the time you’re finished delighting us all with the gift of song.”

  I snort. “You’re going to be so deeply disillusioned.”

  Mina’s lips part, but her reply is drowned out by an opening guitar solo. I recognize the intro to “More than a Feeling” and a delighted grin dances across my face.

  “Does he know this is your favorite song?” Mina asks, raising her voice to be heard over the music.

  “I don’t know. I did mention it once. We were on our way back from lunch on our first date, and it came on the radio.” I beam up at Deacon, who’s smiling down at me with a knowing expression that makes it clear this isn’t a coincidence.

  “Oh man, this guy has game. We’ll have to keep an eye on him,” Mina grumbles, but she’s smiling, too, a smile that stretches wider as Deacon begins to sing in a rich, resonant voice that makes the hair on my arms stand on end.

  Within the first few notes, it’s obvious that he’s going to be amazing. But by the time he gets to the chorus, belting it out with an easy confidence that turns my bones to jelly, it’s clear he’s got a gift, something precious I feel so lucky to be here to appreciate. Every time his gaze connects with mine, it sends an electric shock through my system. By the time he finishes, I’m vibrating at a completely different frequency than I was before.

  All I want to do is rush across the room, throw my arms around him, and devour the sexy mouth that made all those beautiful sounds.

  But the DJ is calling my name.

  I take a deep breath and start through the crowd, feeling sorry for all the innocent, unsuspecting ears I pass on my way to the stage. They have no idea what’s about to happen to them, and though I’ll try to warn them, I already know they aren’t going to listen. People never do, assuming it can’t possibly be that bad.

  It’s a mistake they live to regret.

  “You might want to step outside for a breath of fresh air until I’m finished, guys,” I say as I take the mic, wrapping my fingers around the still-warm metal as I move into the spotlight. “Seriously. This is going to hurt you more than it hurts me.”

  “You’ve got this, gorgeous,” Deacon calls out, giving me two thumbs-up from near the front of the crowd as the opening strains of “Love Shack” fill the air.

  I smile down at him with a shake of my head. “You’re about to eat those words, baby. And wish you’d brought earplugs.”

  The room ripples with laughter. Deacon laughs, too, and keeps laughing—softly, hiding his shit-eating grin behind his hand—as I open my mouth and suffering animal sounds come out.

  Almost instantly, the room goes quiet, horror and disbelief creeping into the expressions of everyone in attendance, except Deacon. His shoulders simply continue to shake, proving he finds my tone-deafness absolutely hysterical. By the time I’m halfway through the song, I’m laughing, too, which doesn’t make my singing any better, but doesn’t make it worse, either—nothing could do that.

  But once people see that I’m having fun at my own expense, they start smiling, too. And then Mina starts to sing along, followed by the rest of the volunteer department and the patrons near the stage. Soon, the entire bar is howling “Love Shack, baby!” and dancing in spaces between the tables, covering my caterwauling with the sweet sound of a hundred voices mixing together in song.

  I finish the last note and thrust both arms into the air in Victory as cheers fill the bar. They’re even louder than the applause after Deacon finished his number, and I can’t stop grinning as I slip the mic back into the stand.

  I leave the stage, high-fiving the hands held up in my path, and when I reach Deacon, he scoops me into his arms, hugging me so hard my feet leave the ground as he growls into my ear, “You’re a badass, Violet Boden.”

  I giggle as I pull back to look into his eyes. “I didn’t scare you off?”

  He shakes his head. “No way. I’m even crazier about you than I was before. You’re fearless, woman, and it’s sexy as hell.”

  I bite my bottom lip. “Not as sexy as that incredible voice of yours. I want you to sing to me. In my bed. While we’re naked. Right now.”

  His eyes flash. “I’ll pay the bill and meet you outside. Five minutes.”

  I say goodbye to Mina and the rest of the fire crew and make a beeline for the door.

  And for the first time, we go to my place, sneaking up the stairs only to find that Adriana isn’t at home studying like she promised. But not even my wayward teen can cool my hunger to get naked with this man.

  “I’m going to sew a tracking device into her coat,” I murmur against Deacon’s lips as we drift toward my room.

  “I’ll help you. I know wher
e we can get one for cheap.”

  “I was kidding,” I say. “Mostly. But thank you. I shouldn’t be too worried, though, right? She’ll be okay. She’s still getting great grades, and I never smell alcohol on her breath. She could just be at Georgia’s studying.”

  “She could be. Whatever she’s up to, she’s a smart kid,” he says. “She’s going to be fine. And so are you, if I have anything to say about it.”

  “You always make me feel fine.” I kiss him as I add, “So much better than fine.”

  And he does. For hours, until we hear Addie tiptoe in around midnight, and we both agree it’s time to get some rest.

  I sleep better than I have in months, tucked into the small-spoon position with this man I’m beginning to think might be perfect for me, after all.

  CHAPTER 19

  From the texts of Tristan Hunter and

  Deacon Hunter

  Tristan: Hey! I just got a call from Dad, sounds like congratulations are in order!

  * * *

  Deacon: Thanks. Yeah, I got the news yesterday. I start full-time next week. Two days on, three days off, with on-call hours split between me and the former chief, who’s going to stay on part-time until we get someone trained to take his place.

  * * *

  Tristan: I’m not talking about the job—though, that’s great and I’m happy for you—I’m talking about the fact that you didn’t go home last night. Violet let you stay over at her place, huh? Must be getting serious.

  * * *

  Deacon: Or I could have been passed out in the alley behind the karaoke joint. Or in a car accident. Or have decided to make a last-minute trip to Vegas.

  * * *

  Tristan: Obviously none of these things are true. You’re in her bed right now, aren’t you?

  * * *

  Deacon: No comment.

  * * *

  Tristan: Ha! Knew it. Good for you, brother. Tell her she can take off today if she wants. There’s not much on the schedule, just a few adoptions and another visit from the herpetologist. He’s saying it’s going to take at least a month for him to work up his final report and recommendations, by the way. So I’ll have plenty of time to find someone else to take care of brush removal when the time comes, since you’re going to be busy.

  * * *

  Deacon: I won’t be too busy. When you’re ready to deal with it, I’ll be there. I’d rather supervise the process myself. There are a lot of people I care about at that shelter. I want to make sure you’re all safe.

  And Violet says thank you.

  She could use a day off to ride her kid’s ass for sneaking out last night.

  * * *

  Tristan: Ha. Knew you were still in bed with her.

  * * *

  Deacon: Shut up.

  * * *

  Tristan: Wish her good luck with Adriana, and be sure to tell her all the stories about Rafe and Dylan when they were teens. They made lying and sneaking around their full-time job, and both of them turned out just fine.

  * * *

  Deacon: Will do. But I’ll leave out the part where Rafe almost got shot sneaking into his girlfriend’s window in the middle of the night.

  * * *

  Tristan: Yeah, do that. I’m sure Adriana has more sense than to break into the home of a man whose property is covered with “No Trespassing, Violators Will Be Shot, Survivors Will Be Shot Again” signs.

  * * *

  Deacon: She does seem like a smart kid. I just wish she wasn’t upsetting Violet so much and that there was something I could do to help.

  * * *

  Tristan: Judging from the smile on Violet’s face the past few days, I’d say you’re doing your part. She seems happy. So do you.

  * * *

  Deacon: I am. She’s special. I don’t know how long she’ll be able to put up with me, but I’m sure as hell enjoying it while it lasts.

  * * *

  Tristan: I wouldn’t worry about how long it’s going to last. I’ve got a feeling about you two.

  * * *

  Deacon: Don’t jinx it.

  * * *

  Tristan: You can’t jinx love. Violet told me that. And she’s a smart woman, especially about this kind of thing.

  * * *

  Deacon: She is. One of the smartest I’ve ever met. Talk to you later. I’m going to go make her pancakes, to show her how much I appreciate sleepover privileges.

  * * *

  Tristan: Excellent call.

  * * *

  Deacon: I may be rusty, baby brother, but I’m no fool. Especially when it comes to people I’d like to keep in my life for the foreseeable future.

  CHAPTER 20

  VIOLET

  Time flies when you’re having fun.

  And when you’re falling in love…

  Well, it flashes by at the speed of light.

  I blink, and November is winding to a close, ushered out with Thanksgiving at my mom’s place with the girls and a turkey sandwich picnic with Deacon the day after, shared around the fire pit behind my house with a bottle of Chardonnay and two miniature pumpkin pies from his stash of leftovers. And though I’d never tell my mother or any of the other guests at her holiday feast, my belated Thanksgiving with Deacon is my favorite part of the long weekend.

  Thanksgiving is all about gratitude, and of all the things I’m thankful for this year, Deacon is quickly becoming one of my top two, right up there with the health of my babies and all the other people I love.

  He just makes me so…happy. In a way I didn’t think I’d ever be happy again.

  And then December arrives with a freak cold snap, and the pipes in my ancient basement freeze and burst, flooding the southeast corner and taking out my washer and dryer while they’re at it. Deacon and his new employees from the volunteer fire department are on the scene within the hour. Even though it’s a Sunday and they all just got off an all-night shift, and I’m sure the last thing they want to do on the first frigid day of the year is to help pump water out of a basement.

  But they do. They pump and scrub and set up fans with smiles on their faces. I’m sure part of that is due to the spiked hot cocoa I keep bringing down on trays throughout the afternoon, but the major reason is the man who gathers me into his arms when the mess is finally under control and promises he knows a guy who sells appliances cheap and owes him a favor.

  Deacon inspires the people he leads, and he’s clearly a perfect fit for his new job as captain of the volunteer department. And though I miss the time when he only worked a few afternoons a week, I’m so proud of him.

  “You’re a good boss,” I whisper, patting his chest with one hand as I wave goodbye to his coworkers with the other.

  “I’m not sure Ferris and Fiona would agree,” he says with a chuckle. “They were looking forward to watching football all day. But spiked hot chocolate seems to have softened the blow. Hopefully they won’t have tacks waiting in my chair when I get there on Wednesday.”

  I hum happily as I lean my cheek against his chest. “That’s right. It’s the start of your weekend. What’s on your wish list for your time off?”

  “Naps.” He yawns. “Lots of naps.”

  “Old man,” I tease, hugging him closer.

  “So old. And tired. So old and tired, I may need help getting into bed, Vi.”

  I tilt my head back, shooting him a wry smile. “Is that right?”

  He nods, his brow furrowed pitifully. “It is.”

  “You poor thing, let me help you upstairs. We’ll get you tucked in, and you can sleep as long as it takes to recover your strength. I’ll bring you hot water bottles and cups of tea until you’re right as rain.”

  “A hot water bottle wasn’t what I had in mind.” His hand drops to cup my ass through my jeans, and we shut the door and head up the stairs. “I was thinking of a hot brunette. One with really long hair I like to wrap my hands up in while I’m fucking her from behind.”

  “Shush!” I turn on the steps, giving him a wide-eyed l
ook as I press my finger to my lips and add in a whisper, “Adriana is upstairs in her room studying for the driver’s test she’s already failed three times.”

  He grimaces, casting a worried glance over my shoulder. “Shit. Do you think she heard? I didn’t think she was here. I haven’t seen her since before lunch.”

  I frown. “Not this again. She should be here. She didn’t tell me she was leaving.” I start back up the stairs and moving left down the hall until I get to Addie’s room. “Addie, honey, would you mind going to the store for me in a bit? Just the corner market. We need bread and black beans and almond coffee creamer.”

  I pause, waiting for a response that doesn’t come. “Addie? Are you asleep?” I wait another beat before reaching for the handle and turning, opening the door to reveal Addie’s empty bed, empty desk, and empty ratty old couch she insisted on dragging home from a flea market two years ago.

  Deacon grunts behind me, and I sigh.

  “You were right. I guess I should have invested in a tracking device, after all. But I was hoping we were done with this. She hasn’t snuck out without telling me where she was going in weeks.”

  “That you know of,” Deacon says. And though I don’t like to admit it, he’s right.

  “What am I going to do?” I run a hand through my hair, suddenly feeling all the hours of running drinks and equipment up and down the basement stairs. “I mean, she seems fine, so I don’t want to worry, but every mom instinct I’ve got is screaming that something isn’t right. That she needs my help but is too afraid to ask for some reason.”