Blaze (The Firefighters of Darling Bay Book 1)

by Rachael Herron

  Or was that just him overheating, thinking of Grace?

  Dang. She was a two-alarm fire, and he wasn’t planning on dumping water on that fire. He wanted to watch her blaze, and he wanted to burn along with her.

  Inside the pound, John Skinner gave him a nod as he entered. “Got a dog for me?” He sounded displeased, and his long nose wrinkled the slightest bit. Tox had known Skinner since they were kids, and even back then he wouldn’t have given him a job dealing with animals. He was tall and painfully thin, with a perpetual frown on his face. He had a thin mustache that made him look as if he were about to tie a girl to the railroad tracks. The funny thing was that Tox knew he was a fighter—he really tried to save the animals under his care. He hated putting them down, and once Tox had seen him at the bar after a rough shift. After three martinis (two too many for a guy his size), he’d started weeping into his gin about the dog he’d had to put to sleep that day.

  “Give it over.” Skinner gestured to the counter.

  All Tox had to do was let the dog go. Just fill out the form. Walk out the door.

  Why then, was he having such a hard time doing it? He felt stupid for even admitting it to himself, but when he looked down, he could see Grace in this darn dog’s eyes. Was it that maple color? Was it that soft, welcoming look of trust? He hadn’t been looked at like that for a long time.

  Now two girls in one day had looked at him that way.

  “You gonna keep her or what?” Skinner crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Because I don’t got all day. I got two sick dogs in the back that might not make it. They’ll probably give this one what they have, even though doc’s got ’em on all the antibiotics already.”

  Tox hesitated. “Don’t you always say it’s the puppies you can adopt out, no problem?”

  Skinner raised one eyebrow so high it almost got lost in his combover. “Have you looked at that mangy little thing? She’s two breaths away from dead.”

  Tox looked down. The puppy was shaking like she was caught in a rainstorm. She was matted fur and ribcage. Drool trailed from her mouth, and her eyes ran so that it looked like she was crying. And still that little tail gave a soft thump-thump-thump against the leather of his jacket.

  “She’s a strong little pup.” The dog took the finger Tox gave her and chewed on it. “See? Friendly.”

  “She’s so hungry she’s trying to eat your flesh, that’s all.” Skinner held out his hands. “Come on, Tox.”

  The pup stopped chewing on his finger and looked up at him. She gave a soft whine and tilted her head to the side. She was ugly. Little. Sick. And Tox was totally in love with her.

  “Well, heck.”

  “Looks like you have a dog, my friend.”

  Tox didn’t say anything, just held the puppy tight and barreled out the door he’d just come in.

  He wondered if the dog would mind a short ride on a motorcycle. He held her up to his face and received another lick.

  Seemed like she was pretty daring. She’d probably like it.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “A date? Tomorrow night?”

  “Well, at least you finally stopped laughing.”

  Samantha rocked back on her heels and set down the African violet she was repotting on Grace’s back porch. “Where are you going?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What time?”

  “Six.” Grace brushed dark soil off her hands and looked with satisfaction at the fuchsia she was cutting back. The sharp, acrid scent pleased her nose. It smelled like dusty summer to her. Their mother had loved fuchsias. “I don’t know why I’m going out with him at all. His name is Tox, for Pete’s sake. I swore after the last guy—”

  “The last three guys.”

  “—the last three guys that I would only date someone healthy. Someone with his head on straight and his stuff together.”

  Samantha waved a dirty hand. “Whatever. The real question is, what are you going to wear? I have a couple college application clients tomorrow night. If I do your makeup in the morning, will you promise not to touch it all day? I’d come do it right before, but I have a date, too.”

  Grace felt a flutter of nerves in her stomach. “Who?” She knew she was deflecting.”

  “Just a guy.” Samantha finished tamping more soil around the root ball. “Can I do your makeup?”

  “Oh, crap. Fine.”

  “Yes. Pass me that watering can. And guarantee me you won’t wear those shoes.”

  Looking down at her favorite black Dansko clogs, Grace frowned. “These are cute.”

  “They’re birth control.”

  Shocked, Grace said, “Well, good. It’s not like I’m going to need any other kind.”

  Samantha finished with the violet. “Look at all this mint! It’s crazypants! Let’s make virgin mojitos!”

  “I’ll pass.”

  Samantha pulled off her gloves and stood. “Put down the trowel.”

  “I still have three more petunias to put in.”

  “Screw the petunias. You can’t kill those things. Come inside, have a fake drink with me, and we’ll decide what you’re wearing.”

  “But…”

  “Start your loosening up early.” Samantha went inside, the screen door slamming behind her.

  “Wait a minute.” Grace followed Sam inside. “What do you mean?”

  Sam gave a light laugh as she rinsed the mint she’d picked. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Just that you could stand to let go of the reins a little bit.”

  Grace felt a flash of heat. That’s exactly what Gary, her last boyfriend, had said. Right before he’d dumped her to take the trip they’d planned together, absconding with her money which she could only assume he blew on the horses.

  Her sister snapped her fingers in front of her. “Earth to Grace. You haven’t heard a word I’ve been saying, have you? Drink this.” She pressed a cold glass into Grace’s hand. “Now, to my room. I have just the right thing for you to wear.”

  “I’m not looking like a hooch. You can’t make me.”

  Samantha said, “I’m just going to take it as a compliment that you think I could come close to making you look like one.”

  “And no heels!” The drink did actually taste amazing. Light and sweet, tart and not too minty. “How did you make this?”

  “I stared into it until the sin in my soul filled the glass. Why? You like it?”

  Grace said. “It’s not bad. Bring on the carnal wear.”

  Samantha pulled Grace into the spare bedroom. “Eye shadow! Perfume! Low-cut top! This is what I’ve been waiting for ever since I moved in!”

  “Lucky me.” Grace bumped Sam with her shoulder.

  But in fact, she meant it.

  The next day at work, Grace had a hard time hiding her nerves. As Scrug Watson hung up his green Deere baseball cap on her hat rack, she’d dropped a box of clean needles with a clatter that made everyone in her treatment room jump. Scrug said, “Whatchoo nervous about, girl?”

  “Accident, sorry,” she’d said lightly, picking them up. Within ten minutes she’d stubbed her toe twice and knocked over a glass of water on her desk, soaking her day planner. She told herself to breathe, but somehow taking in air and holding it made her feel even more jumpy.

  By five thirty, she was out of the practice, walking home. She stumbled twice. Stupid Danskos.

  By quarter to six, she was home.

  Ten minutes later, she was in her bathroom, checking her makeup.

  She wouldn’t be nervous.

  It would be stupid to be nervous.

  Jeez, she was nervous. She felt like a jumpy cat balancing on top of a cement mixer.

  The mascara her sister had insisted on putting on her this morning was still black and thick. Just like Samantha had promised, it hadn’t smudged, but then again, Grace had been too terrified to touch her eyes all day. She’d flat-out refused the eye shadow after she’d read the ingredients to her sister. Bismuth oxychloride and propylene glycol? Who
knew what those did, being absorbed into the skin all day?

  Now, Grace put on the deep cherry lipstick her sister had insisted she wear. She took a step back and smoothed her hair. The black V-neck was deep, but it hadn’t made her feel embarrassed today as she’d leaned over patients, so it wasn’t too low. The dark red straight skirt made her calves look good, she could admit that. The black heels? At least four inches high? Well. They did make her feel pretty. And she’d promised Sam.

  About clothing, anyway. Samantha had also said that she should try hard to get into trouble before the end of the night.

  Grace had punched her sister in the shoulder. “I’m not putting out.”

  “Who says that anymore? Putting out. Maybe you should stay inside with your knitting and your herbal tea.”

  Stung, Grace said, “I like knitting. And more tea is always good.”

  Samantha had just laughed and shoved two condoms into Grace’s purse. Grace hadn’t asked her why she had them. She didn’t want to know.

  The front doorbell rang.

  Grace took a deep breath and tried very hard not to wobble on her way through the office and into the hallway.

  Tox stood on the porch, bigger and brawnier than she’d remembered. He could probably lift a car if he had to, and someone in his profession might have to on occasion.

  He’d been looking over his shoulder, but turned as the door opened.

  “Oh, crap.” Tox’s face fell. “What are you wearing?”

  A surge of heat flooded her face and Grace wanted to hide behind the door until he left, which he’d hopefully do quickly. Embarrassment, waves of it, rolled over her.

  She’d thought she was the worst at dating.

  But this guy was worse.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  As first date opening lines went, it was right up there with “What was your name again?” and “We’re going Dutch, right?”

  Tox’s mouth seemed full of concrete. He had to find something better to say, fast—before her feelings got hurt. Well, it was probably too late for that.

  Grace looked confused and then chagrined. She tugged at the neckline of her shirt as if she wanted to cover up the skin of her chest and neck. He hadn’t meant that. She looked amazing. The outfit did all sorts of things for her deliciously hot body, and dang, did he like looking at her.

  But he’d for sure have to change the date plan, and he didn’t have a backup one…

  “My sister’s clothes.” Grace stepped forward onto the porch, closing the door firmly behind her. “I told her it was a bad idea.”

  “Are you kidding?” Tox almost stuttered, tripping over the words. “No! I don’t want you to think—well, of course you’d think…”

  “That you think I look terrible?” She put her shoulders back, and her next words were strong. “Well, I think I look nice.” She blinked hard, as if she were working on believing it herself.

  Tox stepped forward and put his hands on her shoulders. “You look incredible.”

  “I…what? You just said…”

  “You look hotter than the devil’s kitchen. I can’t believe how good you look.” Didn’t she know that?

  “Oh.” She bit her bottom lip. Chewed on it, really. Then she blushed. Yeah, Tox liked it when she did that. In fact, he wanted her to do that all the time. Everywhere. He wondered what she looked like she was naked and blushing. How far did that red spread?

  “But could you change anyway?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “We’re doing something that will require the use of sneakers. And old clothes.”

  An expression of relief crossed her face. “Oh, thank goodness.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  “Hang on, I’ll be right back.”

  Tox waited on the porch. Grace had a knack for decorating, he noticed. Not like the designers on HGTV that Coin watched at the station, not all fancy, but both her practice in the old Victorian and this little house had the same feeling, as if they had grown up around her naturally. There had to be fifty potted plants, flowers blooming and draping, all colors. Comfortable old wooden furniture—a swing and three chairs—invited him to sit. He imagined her entertaining out here, seated with her bare feet pulled up underneath her, hair loose, pouring glasses of iced tea for friends.

  For a brief second, he wondered if he could ever be someone who sat out here with her. He imagined her bare feet resting in his lap.

  Grace came outside, dressed in a blue zippered sweatshirt, jeans, and blue canvas shoes. Her hair, so carefully styled before, was pulled back into a ponytail. She’d rubbed off the dark lipstick, but she still wore the prettily smudged eye makeup. She looked ready to paint a house or play paintball. How was it possible that she looked even hotter now, dressed like this?

  “What are we doing?” Her face was open. Happy. Expectant.

  Tox didn’t want to let her down. “I’m not sure if you have an online profile, but I think it’s required by law that if you do, you have to say you like long walks on the beach. So I thought we’d do that.” He’d meant it as funny and tongue-in-cheek. Now that he’d said it out loud, it just kind of sounded stupid. So he added the clincher. “With my new dog.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  He’d kept the dog!

  Grace couldn’t help squeaking when Tox led her to the dog crate leashed into the back of a black truck. “Oh, my god! Where’s your motorcycle?”

  “Turns out she doesn’t like riding as much I thought she would. That was one exciting ride home yesterday, I’ll tell you that much.”

  Grace grinned and climbed up on the back tire so she could reach through the crate’s bars to give the wee pup a scratch. “So you own all the big boy toys? The motorcycle, the big truck. Do you have the boat, too?”

  “Does a jetski count?”

  Raising one eyebrow at him, Grace decided to let him off the hook for the water sports safety lecture. Besides, the dog was taking all her attention. “Can she ride in the cab with us?”

  “Whatever you want, darlin’.” Tox’s unexpected drawl made Grace’s knees get warm.

  The puppy sat on Grace’s lap during the short ride to Fenton’s Cove. When Tox took the corner at First the dog almost spilled off, but then she scrambled back, seemingly desperate not to lose contact.

  Tox parked in the lot and they walked past the Golden Spike. The jukebox inside the bar was blasting a classic Darling Songbirds song, “Take it Slow On the Curves.” Tox waved inside at Nate, the bartender. They crossed the street and walked past Crab’s Claw restaurant toward the sand. Have you ever eaten there? That would be too pushy, as if she wanted him to take her someplace fancy. It’s windy out. Too obvious. God, you’re hot. Too crazy. She sealed her lips.

  Down near the water, though, the salt wind whipping her ponytail, the small dog stretching her leash to its limit, Grace felt the tightness in her jaw start to relax. “She’s adorable.”

  “I know.”

  “That fur, though.”

  “She has a grooming appointment tomorrow.”

  Grace nodded. “She’s too skinny.”

  “Agreed,” he said amiably. “We’ll fix that right up.”

  “How?”

  “Steak. Lots of steak.”

  Surprised, Grace said, “I can’t imagine that would be the best diet for a puppy.”

  “I was teasing,” he said. “Mostly. But ice cream isn’t out of the question.”

  “Really?’

  “Man, you’re easy to tease.”

  “Gah. I’ve always been gullible.” She bent over and undid the laces of her shoes. “Once a guy convinced me he was the first test-tube baby in the world.”

  “Why would he say that?”

  “I don’t know.” Grace had never thought to wonder why he’d done that. “I have no idea.”

  “Men will say anything to get laid,” he said.

  The sand was cool and damp between her toes. “Is that true, do you think?”

  Tox’s eyebrows r
aised as he took off his own shoes. They left them in a companionable pile at the edge of the iceplant, safely out of the waves’ way. “Oh, yeah.”

  “I don’t think you’re supposed to admit that on a date,” said Grace.

  He looked rueful. “Probably not.”

  Something that resembled daring filled Grace’s spine. “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever said? To get laid?”

  “Oh, man. I really don’t think I should go there.”

  Her heart beat rapidly. “I’ll tell you the worst thing I ever said.” Grace could only think of something she’d heard her sister say at a bar.

  Tox laughed. “Girls do it, too?”

  Samantha’s bar line tripped off her tongue. “I told a guy that I could tie a knot in a cherry stem with my tongue.”

  “I’m intrigued. You can?”

  “Sure. Who can’t?” Grace had never even tried. The lie burned a path into her stomach.

  Tox tugged on the leash. The puppy ran toward a seagull, pretending she wasn’t on leash, her short legs scrabbling at the wet sand. “Wow. But if it was the truth, then I don’t think that counts as a bad thing. It’s only morally reprehensible if you’re making it up, just to get some action.”

  “A man with a conscience.” Grace tried to will her blush to stop. “That’s admirable.”

  “Don’t say that yet. I once told a girl I’d run a baker’s dozen marathons.”

  “And you hadn’t?”

  “I don’t run unless it’s from a bear.”

  A wave darted at them, and they dodged it. A young woman wearing headphones race-walked past them, arms pumping. Grace said, “What kind of exercise do you do then?”

  Tox looked at her with a leer.

  She blushed harder. “Never mind, don’t answer that. Just get some exercise sometime, would you? It’s good for you.”

  “And you’re all about the healthy stuff, right?”

  “Right.”

  He gave a nod and whistled to the dog who gave no sign of hearing him. “Green shakes and oatmeal?”

  “The best.”

  “Hmmm.”