“I’m sorry about your loan, Dax.” Judge Nichols bent his neck forward and shook his head. “I called Tony, the president, but he was only willing to go out on a limb for me once.”
Dax blinked. “You were the one who got me the loan the first time?” He opened his mouth, closed it. He didn’t know what to say. That the judge would have that much faith in him was … well, Dax didn’t know what it was. Only that he was grateful. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Fat lot of good it did,” the judge grumbled. “You’ve really turned your life around this past year and you should be rewarded.”
Tucking Lissa into his side, Dax smiled down at her. “I have been.”
“I really can’t take this mush anymore,” Gabe said. “Babe, you ready to go?”
Marla drifted toward Dax, eyes fixed on the papers in her hand. “Just a minute. Dax?” She looked up and waved his proposal at him. “Is this the business plan you presented to the bank?”
“Yes.” He looked at the burned corners of it. “Or what’s left of it, at least.”
“Why didn’t you bring this to me?” she asked. “You know I’m always looking for a good investment.”
“Marla …” Gabe said, a warning in his voice.
She flicked a lock of strawberry hair behind her shoulder. “Do I tell you how to treat animals? No,” she said, not waiting for a response. “So don’t tell me how to invest. I’m good with money.”
“Marla, Gabe’s right.” Dax rubbed his chest. “Friends loaning friends money can go bad real quick. That’s why I didn’t approach you.”
“Nonsense.” She flipped to the next page and scanned the document. “This looks solid. I’ll want to run it past my investment adviser, but if he agrees, I’d love to diversify into the eco-tourism industry.”
Lissa squeezed his side. “That’s so great!”
“But—”
Raising an eyebrow, Lissa glared at him. “Don’t argue when someone wants to give you money.”
“Sound advice,” Judge Nichols agreed. He rocked up onto the balls of his feet and clapped his hands together, beaming. “Now, I’m starving. What do you say we all go out to dinner to celebrate?”
A round of agreements floated through the air.
Dax gave up. He didn’t have it in him to argue any more that day. The woman he loved was back in his arms, he wasn’t going to jail, and a friend was offering to fund his dream company. Life was too damn good to quibble over details.
His heartbeat raced, drumming an excited beat in his chest. “Okay.” He took Lissa’s hand and squeezed. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 25
Lissa stretched out on the blanket, lifting her face to the noon sun. Her stomach was full from the picnic lunch her boyfriend had made, she’d just received a commission to paint the portrait of a friend of Marla’s, and the man she loved was lying beside her.
Life was good.
William gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek, dripping water on her, before dashing back to the stream that edged the property of Forever Friends.
Laughing, Lissa brushed drops of slobber and water from her face. Okay, life was perfect.
“You have one of those for me?” Dax pushed up onto his elbow and looked down at her, his eyes soft.
“What’s that?”
“A kiss,” he clarified.
Lissa reached for him. “Always.”
He settled his chest half on hers, his weight comforting, his lips warm and sweet.
Bliss. That’s what she was feeling. Contented bliss. She couldn’t get enough of Dax, which was a good thing because they were together a lot. When he’d asked if she wanted to move in with him, she’d jumped at the chance—and into his arms. She’d made sure they’d broken in every room in his apartment.
The moving-in part had been easy. She only had the one bag. Overhearing Dax’s mom caution her son about moving in with someone so quickly hadn’t been so easy. But she’d agreed loudly when his father had insisted Dax bring Lissa out to Oregon soon to meet them. That had given Lissa hope she wouldn’t be seen as Dax’s big mistake.
Resting his hand on her hip, he deepened the kiss. Lissa wrapped her arm around his neck, never wanting the kiss to end.
Until William shook himself off next to them, spraying them with cold creek water.
Dax flopped to his back. “I don’t think the dog approves of our PDAs.”
Not letting him get away, Lissa rolled on top of him. She folded her hands on top of his chest and rested her chin on the back of them. “We’re not really in public. Brad and Gabe don’t come back here, do they?”
“Not usually.”
“Then a little public nookie doesn’t break any rules.” She nibbled her way up his throat.
“And when did you start following the rules?” Dax asked, sliding his hands down her back and cupping her butt.
Placing her palms flat on the blanket beside Dax’s head, she pushed up to look at him fully. “I’ve discovered that a little domestication isn’t a bad thing. But only a little, mind you. I wouldn’t want you to think you’ve completely changed me.” Although he had. In the most important ways possible. She shrugged, and a tumble of curls slipped over her shoulder.
Dax combed his fingers through them. “Are you sure? I don’t ever want to be a leash on you, Liss. If you ever need to stretch your legs and roam, I want you to be able to. And I want to be at your side when I can and waiting for you at home when I can’t.”
Lissa scratched behind William’s ear. “I’m sure. Look at William here. He’s become a great dog because he knows he has a home he can count on. His wildness is gone, leaving only a fun, high-spirited doggo.”
And for the first time, Lissa understood what it meant to have a stable home. Someone she could count on to always have her back. Who encouraged and supported her. It was a feeling she’d never take for granted.
Dax cupped her cheek. “I love you, Liss.”
William nudged him and whined.
“Yes, and you, too, you big goofball.” Dax patted William’s chest. “Though I don’t know. You might be getting too cling—”
William stiffened, leaped over Dax’s head, and raced along the bank of the creek, quickly disappearing from sight.
“—y.” Dax grinned. “Or maybe not.” He scooted out from underneath her and rolled to his feet, offering her his hand.
“Another chase?” she asked.
Wrapping her hair around his fist, he reeled her in for a slow kiss. “I like that you come home to me every night. But I’m not gonna lie.” One side of his mouth tilted up. “There’s nothing wrong with a little pursuit every once in a while.”
Lissa bounced on her toes. “Glad to hear it.” Because she still had some running left to do. She might want to make Dax her home, but she hadn’t undergone a complete personality transplant. “First one to catch William buys the other an ice cream cone?” She shook out her legs, getting loose.
“Sure. How about—”
Lissa pushed his chest, knocking him off-balance, and took off. She followed the trail William had taken, Dax shouting behind her. Laughter burbled up from her chest.
Yes, a bit of wildness could be a lot of fun.
As long as the man of her dreams was always only two steps behind her.
Read on for a taste of PUTTING OUT OLD FLAMES, the first in Allyson Charles’s Pineville series, available now!
Chapter 1
On a good day it could take a backhoe to pry Jane out from beneath her soft cotton duvet. The goose down bedspread in a faded blue paisley had been an indulgence, but one that was worth every penny. When she snuggled into bed at night, the duvet kept her cozy through the long Michigan winters, but was light enough to breathe through the warm summers. Sleeping under her duvet was like being cocooned in a cloud. It usually took her three rounds of hitting her sn
ooze button in the morning before she could drag herself out from its inviting comfort.
And that was on a good day. Not a day when her head pounded like the drum section of a marching band and her limbs ached with fatigue.
Jane kicked the twisted sheets from her feet, and cocked her head. There it was again. The knocking was definitely coming from her front door, not her head. She groaned. Couldn’t a girl get a sick day to herself? She wasn’t asking for much. The last time she’d taken time off work due to illness, a different president had been sitting in the Oval Office.
Looking into one disgruntled green eye, she sighed. Cyclops didn’t approve of visitors almost as much as he didn’t approve of her sleeping the day away. The orange tabby circled three times on his pillow before turning his back on her and coiling himself like a garden hose.
Message received. Her ornery pet couldn’t have said Get your lazy butt out of bed more clearly than if he’d written the message on a whiteboard.
Crawling through a sea of used tissues to the edge of the mattress, she swung her legs over. Whoever was at the door was persistent, she’d give him that. Stumbling, she took two steps to her closet, pulled a cotton robe on over her boxer shorts and T-shirt, and headed for the front door to her apartment.
Before opening the door, she gave one more solid blow of her nose, happy to discover she’d mostly dried up while she’d napped. Her face felt altogether too crusty for her liking, but considering her head was so congested it just might explode, Jane didn’t care. Even if that hunky Thor actor stood behind her door, he was just going to have to deal with how she looked.
Concerned blue eyes and wind-blown tufts of white hair greeted her across the threshold. “Jane, are you all right? When you didn’t answer the door right away, I thought maybe you’d forgotten about our meeting.”
Her head fell back on her shoulders. “Judge Nichols. I did forget. I’m sorry.” She stepped to the side and swept an arm toward the living room. “Come on in.”
The older man paused, his eyes narrowing as he studied her face.
“It’s okay. Dr. Murphy said I’m not contagious.” She coughed into her sleeve. “He said it’s just a twenty-four-hour bug and my time’s almost up.”
With another sidelong glance at her head, the judge of Crook County, Michigan, entered her small apartment and took a seat on her couch. Catching her eye, he rubbed a hand through the hair at his left temple and frowned. “If you’re not feeling well, we can reschedule the meeting. The charity ball for the Pineville Fire Department isn’t for another month, so we still have lots of time to plan.” Leaning back on the sofa, he shifted his softly rounded belly and pulled a cell phone out of the front pocket of his trousers.
Jane laughed. “I’m glad you asked me for help with this fundraiser. Only a man would think a month was plenty of time to plan a charity ball and fireman auction. We have a lot to do.”
Judge Nichols pulled the phone away from his ear. “Well, I’m glad you feel that way because the third member of our meeting isn’t answering his phone. I can’t cancel anyway. He should be here shortly.” Brushing his hand through his hair again, he said, “But if you really don’t feel well, I can wait for him outside and tell him we’re rescheduling.”
“Today’s fine.” Jane walked to the attached open kitchen and washed her hands. “I do feel a whole lot better than I did a couple of hours ago.” The clock on the wall above her oven read 5:30 p.m. She’d slept for almost eight hours straight. Pouring water into her teapot, she set it on the stove to heat and shuffled back to the living room, flopping on the other end of the couch. “And we really don’t have any time to waste. I want this fund-raiser to be a success.”
As a local dispatcher for emergency calls, Jane knew most of the firefighters well. Knew their families. Every couple of years the town held a fund-raiser for the Michigan Firefighters Widows’ and Orphans’ Fund. After a large refinery fire had killed two firemen in upstate Michigan last year, reminding Jane of just what their local firefighters faced, she’d jumped at the chance to help out and be one of the cochairs of the fund-raising committee.
“So tell me about our third cochair,” Jane asked. “I have yet to meet the new assistant fire chief. He just started last week, right? I can’t believe he was already roped into helping with this fund-raiser.”
A devious smile turned up the edges of the judge’s lips. “I believe it was a part of his initiation. He was given a couple of choices of what he, as the new guy, could do. I believe this was the least objectionable.”
“The boys in Firehouse 10 gave him a choice?” She shook her head. “They must be going soft.”
A firm knock on the door interrupted them.
“That must be the lucky man now.” Jane pushed to her feet. “What’s the new guy’s name?”
“Assistant Chief McGovern.” The wrinkles in the judge’s forehead deepened. “First name Thomas, I believe.”
“Huh.” That was funny. She used to know someone with that name. But that T. McGovern would never have been caught dead wearing the blue-collar uniform of a firefighter. She moved to open the door.
“Wait, Jane!”
She turned, hand on the knob. The judge had risen to his feet. Even though the older man only stood at about Jane’s own five foot six, he had presence. A sense of authority and calm that made few question his decisions. But right now, he just seemed agitated.
“I think you should know, uh . . .” He brushed violently at his hair.
She raised an eyebrow. Very odd. “Hold that thought.”
Shaking her head, she pulled the door open.
And everything stopped. Her heart. The faint pounding in her head. Her breath. Time itself seemed to suck in a deep breath and hold it.
The chiseled jaw in front of her dropped. “Jane? Jane Willoughby? Is that really you?”
She didn’t know how long she would have stood there, staring at her high school love. The boy who’d ripped her heart in two, stuck a bite in his mouth, chewed it up, spit it out, and then ground the half-masticated bit under his heel. Not that she was still bitter about it or anything.
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