Blaze (The Firefighters of Darling Bay Book 1)

by Rachael Herron

  There was a pause. Grace considered filling it, but she was thrown. Everything about this man threw her. His casual good looks, his confidence, his jokes. The way she wanted desperately to brush against him. Casually. Or more.

  Then Tox said, “Which is what makes you so interesting to me. That I’m so attracted to you.”

  Dang, he just put it out there, didn’t he? Grace felt a warmth flood her. “Oh.”

  “You seem normal. Healthy. I’m looking for your crazy.”

  She laughed, turning her face to the last of the sunlight. It would drop behind the rapidly advancing fog bank soon, and the air would cool rapidly. Three different couples wandered the same way they did, dodging into and away from the waves. “It’s there.” The dog ran up and planted a wet paw on her jeans.

  Tox looked over his shoulder. “This far enough? Ready to head back to the pier?”

  Grace nodded. Her crazy. Her crazy might be the fact that this red-hot firefighter seemed to be interested in her and she had no idea what to do next with that fact. But she had to say something. “You’ve seen me in two different crisis modes, so you’re closer than most to knowing what my crazy is like.”

  “And in both cases, you were trying to take care of someone else and not yourself.”

  “What? No, I wasn’t. Not the second time. I was just trying to breathe.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You were taking care of your sister, doing everything you could do make her think you were okay. Then you were helping me, getting the guys out to me with the baby. That’s not crazy. That’s crazy-responsible.”

  So sexy. Gah. “Hey,” said Grace, remembering. “Why did that firefighter call you the Angel of Death? Doesn’t seem like that’s a very firefighter-like thing to say.”

  Tox’s green eyes went darker, the color of the water at the edge of the foam. “Just a nickname.”

  “Like Tox?”

  “Worse. Some people…It just seems like bad stuff happens around me, that’s all. If a call’s going to go south, I’m usually either there or on my way to it.”

  “Huh. But you’re a helper. You help. That’s your job.”

  “Same as you. That’s what we do, right?”

  “Well.” She shrugged. “It’s just easier to take care of people that not to.”

  “I think that’s your crazy.”

  “Taking care of people?” She pointed at the dog, still straining on her leash. “Number one, pot, meet kettle. And number two, that’s not such a bad problem to have.” She had to change the subject. This was too much, too intimate. It was embarrassing. “What are you going to name her?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “What’s in the running?”

  He shortened the leash as an errant wave threatened to drench the puppy. “I like Loki.”

  “No!”

  “Why not?”

  “She’s a girl! And Loki was the god of destruction. It’s like naming your kid Damien. You get what you deserve.”

  “Okay. Then Appaloosa.”

  “That’s the opposite of Loki, I guess, but that’s so long. And wouldn’t you shorten it to Loose? Then she’d be guaranteed to be pregnant before she even graduates her first training class.”

  “Methyl.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He slowed his pace, and then stopped, slapping his thigh. The dog came running. Heck, Grace wanted to, too. “It’s a hazmat thing.”

  “It’s short for some chemical?”

  “Kind of. It’s slang for Methyl-ethyl bad stuff. Only…we don’t normally say the word stuff.”

  “Ah.”

  “You know the rule of thumb for methyl-ethyl bad stuff?”

  Grace shook her head. His voice was teasing again, and she liked the way it sounded. Rough and happy.

  He held up a fist, his thumb up, holding his arm out straight toward the horizon. “Imagine there’s an explosion out there, way out at sea.”

  She squinted. “Okay.”

  “You want to stay far enough away from the methyl-ethyl bad stuff that when you hold up your hand like this, your thumb covers it up.” He looked at her, and then, to her surprise, he put his arm around her waist and drew her against his chest. “It’s pretty technical.”

  “I can tell,” she laughed, breathless. “You must have gone to school a long time for that.”

  “I put in at least six hours of training. Can I kiss you now?”

  “Again?” she teased, her heart racing. “Didn’t you do that once already?”

  He smiled. “And it’s all I’ve been able to think about doing ever since.”

  She reached up on tiptoe to kiss him.

  Grace thought it would be a light kiss, like the moment. A sweet kiss. On the beach, in the sunset, in a handsome firefighter’s arms, what could be nicer?

  But the kiss wasn’t nice. Or, at least, it wasn’t for long. His mouth, soft at first, soon blazed against hers. His heat stunned her, lighting every cell in her body on fire. His tongue was firm, direct, sure. He tasted like mint and something darker. His hands held her close, tightly, so that she could feel his arousal. He said her name against her kiss, so that the wind tore it away.

  Oh, sweet peaches. She swallowed her gasp and then turned so that she could look out at the ocean, hoping to catch her breath. To draw herself back in line. No man should affect her like this. She felt thrown, off kilter. It was a foreign feeling, and she wasn’t sure she liked it.

  “I thought you were supposed to put out fires.” She couldn’t look at him. “Not start them.”

  His lips were at her ear. “I’m an arsonist when it comes to you.”

  Grace wheeled, pulling from his arms. “That’s the worst line I’ve ever heard.” She pointed at the pier ahead of them. “Are we headed back there to eat?”

  “Yep.”

  “Race you.” She ran. Somehow, she knew he’d let her get ahead.

  But she knew he was right behind her. She wanted nothing more than for him to catch her. And at the same time, she knew he wasn’t right. Toxic.

  He was a terrible idea.

  A hot, terrible, intoxicating idea.

  She ran harder.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Grace, since the kiss on the beach, had kept him at arm’s length, and Tox wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong.

  Surreptitiously, he blew into his hand. Breath, check. Still minty from the gum he’d chewed on the way to her house. He remembered putting on his deodorant before he left the house, so that wasn’t it.

  Maybe he was a terrible kisser. Oh, no. Could that be it? He’d never had any complaints in that area, but there was always a first time.

  But then again, she’d accused him of starting a fire. And that had to be a good thing, right?

  They’d tucked Methyl safely into her crate and locked the door. She drank water and promptly passed out in a sandy heap.

  Now, after getting burgers at Junior’s, they sat facing each other at one of the picnic tables Darling Bay had installed two years before. Tox had never taken the time to sit here before. It was pretty great, actually. The view of the breakers was impressive from up here on the raised sidewalk. They could watch not only the water crashing, but the surfers being thrown over the waves, as if the ocean was shaking them out like a damp towel.

  “How’s your burger?” he asked.

  “Terrible.” Grace took another big bite.

  “I can tell you hate it.” Tox opened his bun and added more salt from the paper packet. “Hey, look, there’s Lexie.”

  Lexie strolled next to an older man who was dressed in a blue polo that paunched out at his round belly. It couldn’t have been a date—he looked at least twenty-five years older and ten inches shorter than she was. Lexie leaned down and said something to the man and then skittered toward them, leaving him standing at the top of the stairs that went down to the sand.

  Lexie raced toward them and draped herself over the end of their picnic table. “Yes, before you ask, I’m on a da
te. I’m on a date that I got online, and right after this I’m going to go home, eat a package—no, a crate—of Oreos while in the tub, and then drown myself.”

  Grace said, “You sure you don’t want to dump him right now and join us?”

  Tox said, “Yeah. You wanna? Hey, wait.” Was his own date going so badly Grace wanted her friend to join them? But then Grace dropped a quick wink at him, and he remembered the way she’d responded to him on the beach. He took another look at the man standing by the steps. His thinning hair was almost in a combover because of the wind. Tox could have some compassion for the guy.

  “Nah,” said Lexie. “I just want you both to get a good look at him so that if I go missing, you’ll know whose basement to tear up. His name is Scooter Fuzz.”

  “It is not,” said Grace.

  Lexie held up a hand. “Swear. He showed me his license. Okay, I have to go so I can get this over with faster. Hey, Grace, I saw your sister like five minutes ago.”

  “You did? She said she was going out…” Grace turned to look through the parking lot. What had she been thinking, not finding out what Sam was up to? She’d been so swept away with the thought of her own date with Tox that she’d barely listened when Samantha said she was going out.

  “She was getting in some guy’s car, looked like they were getting ready to leave. So I guess we’re all on dates tonight. At least you have burgers. That’s a heck of a lot more than I have. Enjoy!” She waggled her eyebrows and was gone.

  Tox took her advice and took another big bite out of his burger. Around it, he managed to say, “Thish is amashing.”

  Grace shook her head and held up her hamburger to the sunset streaking across the sky. “Neither of us should be eating this. Think of the gluten in the bun, the fat in the burger, and that’s not even to mention how processed the bacon is. And this cheese! This isn’t cheese. It’s melted plastic.” She glared at it. Then her face softened. “Delicious, delightful, addictive melted plastic.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about. And hey, this is a step up for me. You know how times a week I eat McDonalds?

  “Don’t tell me.” She meant it.

  “I throw some Carls Jr. in there if I’m feeling like I need a little something better. This, this is highbrow cuisine. Lettuce and everything. Have a fry.”

  “No, thanks,” she said, but her fingers lingered near his fry basket. “I’m happy with my salad on the side.”

  “Which you haven’t touched yet.”

  “I will.”

  “No, you won’t.” Tox nudged the fries closer to her. “Because you want some of these.”

  “No way. I want to live to be a hundred.”

  “Potatoes. They’re a vegetable.”

  Her hand skittered toward the fries and then away. “No.”

  “I won’t tell anyone.”

  “That’s not the point.” She had a tiny dab of mustard just below her lip, and he wanted to lick it off.

  “What’s the point, then?”

  She put down the French fry she’d picked up and placed it squarely back in its paper basket. Next to the table the seagulls, squabbling like bored housewives, fought over half a dropped corn dog.

  “This isn’t real food.” She didn’t sound convinced.

  “Look.” Tox opened his burger bun again. “Meat. Vegetables. Wheat. Pretty straightforward food to me. You’re sad it’s not a tofu burger? Because we can go get you one of those. They have ’em down the block.”

  “No!” She gripped her burger tighter and took another bite.

  “I didn’t think so.”

  Grace chewed and watched the waves. She was so all-fired cute, with that ponytail and that earnest expression. She’d gone somewhere, far away, and he wasn’t sure how to get her back.

  “Give yourself a break, huh?”

  She jumped. “What?”

  “I know when someone’s beating themselves up, and that’s what you’re doing. Just enjoy your burger, huh?”

  She bit her bottom lip, then licked away the mustard. He missed it as soon as it was gone. “I’m fine.”

  Sure. She could play it that way. Tox wasn’t that big on pushing anyone, anyway.

  A little boy wandered past the table, his mother right behind him. She was on her cell phone, looking into the parking lot, and didn’t notice the little boy had let go of the string of his yellow balloon. Tox lunged sideways, grabbing it while it was still a few feet over his head. “Hey! Here you go, kid.”

  The mother thanked him as she tied the string around the child’s wrist.

  When he sat back down, Grace said, “That was nice.”

  “All in a day’s work. Helium’s deadly, you know.”

  She laughed again. “Yeah. That’s why every kid in America sucks it as often as possible.”

  Tox smiled gamely. Helium was actually a great way to kill yourself, too, and he’d been on enough of those calls over the years that he had a hard time forgetting that.

  “Whoa,” Grace said. “Where did you go?”

  “Sorry. It’s just…” Normal people didn’t think things like that. He always forgot.

  “Just what?”

  Tox met Grace’s eyes. She looked at him like she really wanted to know what he was thinking. Like it meant something, the next thing he said. And instead of saying what he was thinking—that nothing mattered anyway, that nothing good lasted—he said, “It’s just that you should really have one of these fries. They’re the best on the coast.”

  “Well, okay, then.” Grace’s voice was happy, and the look on her face as she closed her eyes matched.

  He didn’t want to be anywhere else.

  A flash of motion behind Grace, on the far side of her. Noise.

  A small black car—expensive-looking with custom rims, the kind rich tourists drove through town—broke through the pier’s barrier and drove at least fifty feet down the pier before hitting the rail and smashing partially through it.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Grace felt, rather than heard, the noise.

  A cacophony of sound—screams, guttural cries for help—split the air.

  Tox, who’d been facing the accident, was up and running before Grace had even fully turned around in her seat.

  The car was balanced, teetering. It looked as if a strong wind might blow it all the way off and down to the water below. Inside, Grace could see that the airbags had deployed but it was impossible to tell how many people were still in the car.

  People were running toward the crash, but Tox moved faster than anyone else. He stopped to check a woman who was bleeding from the face. He said something to her, and flagged another person down. Grace heard him say, “Direct pressure. Keep it there,” and then he ran to the car.

  From inside the vehicle came a sharp scream.

  Tox turned around and looked right at Grace, and somehow, she knew.

  “Samantha,” she breathed, and then Grace was running, too, faster than she ever knew she could, straight down the pier. The car had struck several people, and she didn’t care about their injuries. They didn’t matter.

  Only getting to the car mattered.

  “You’re going to help me,” said Tox.

  His words didn’t matter, either. “Sam! Samantha!” Grace could see her sister’s hair, her head at a strange angle in the front seat. The driver—whoever he was—looked as if he was waking up, turning his head in confusion.

  “Grace!” barked Tox. “I need you.” A piece of the pier, part of the railing, broke off next to his elbow and sailed downward, toward the crashing waves.

  Grace’s hand rested on the glass of the passenger window, as close as she could get to her sister. “Okay. Anything. Tell me.” The lower part of the door was warped, the handle sheared off by hitting something. How would they be able to—?

  Tox touched her arm. His hand was warm. Reassuring. As if everything was okay, which it obviously wasn’t. “We need to secure the car. I don’t want anyone to come near it, I don�
��t trust the weight.” As if listening to him, the pier gave an ominous creak below their feet. “I need you to keep them back.” He gestured at the crowd gathering.

  But Grace couldn’t do that. “No. I’m getting her out.” She turned her head to yell through the glass. “You hear that, Sam? We’re getting you out!” She pulled on the handle of the back passenger door of the car.

  “Don’t touch anything!” warned Tox, grabbing her hand.

  “Tox—”

  He pointed at the front, where the bumper was hanging treacherously over the water. “If we shift the load, we could send it right off. The water isn’t deep enough here, and it’ll go ass-deep in the sand ten feet under and trap them. We won’t be able to get them out in time, not if they can’t get themselves out.”

  Grace looked at her sister’s head, still unmoving.

  “The only thing we can do is keep the car as still as possible. I’m going to the other side to talk to the driver, to get him not to move. Do you know who he is?”

  “Not a clue.” Some loser? Some dealer? Samantha had been doing so well, too.

  A man wearing a yellow t-shirt approached her, his hands out, face pale. “What can I do?”

  “Keep everyone away. Keep them back.” Grace swiveled her head, moving between looking at Tox and her sister. Tox was doing a great job of keeping the driver calm. Over the crashing of the waves and of the crowd, she couldn’t hear his words, but the man was nodding slowly at whatever he was saying.

  “The fire department will be here soon,” she said to the man who wanted to help. “Can you go out and direct them? Move people out of the way and make sure they can get through.”

  The man pushed his way through the crowd, waving his hands. “Make way! Out of the way!”

  Grace felt the planks rumble beneath her feet.

  Tox looked over the top of the sedan. “The pier’s unstable. Getting them back isn’t enough. Get everyone all the way off. You, too.”

  “And leave Sam?” Grace shook her head. She’d hold the car up here with her own two hands if she had to.

  “Grace, I need you to do this. I know you can do this.”

  “I know I can do it,” she snapped. “That’s not the issue. I’m not leaving my sister.”