Putting Out Old Flames

by Allyson Charles

  The new recruit and Martinez flinched. The toilets here must be filthy.

  “That doesn’t really help me.” She pushed off the table. “Where’s Chance? Upstairs?”

  “Hold up there.” Finnegan got to his feet. “You hurting my number-two man won’t help you, either. Besides, he did it because he was concerned about Edith’s safety, and for her neighbors. He made the right call.”

  Jane’s anger deflated a bit. “She could have had it fixed while she was living there. She’s been in the building for five years and nothing’s happened yet.”

  Finnegan’s stare made her feel like she was back in grammar school.

  “Jane?” Chance loped down the stairs two at a time. “I thought I heard your voice.”

  “Run, man,” Martinez hissed. “Run fast, run far.”

  Finnegan sighed. “Martinez, go get lunch started.”

  Martinez backed out of the room, pointing at Jane, making choking motions and pointing at Chance. The newbie pursed his lips, pushed off the table, and sidled out of the room after Martinez, never saying a word.

  Chance shifted on his feet. “I guess you heard about your mom’s store.”

  “Heard about you evicting her from not only her store but her home as well?” She stalked up to him, poked him in the chest. “Yeah, I heard all about it. Between my mom harping on and on about what a rigid dill hole you are, and her kicking me all night in bed, I hardly got any sleep.”

  Finnegan nodded, rubbed his leg absently, and Jane glared at him, her anger hot enough to encompass any male in the vicinity.

  “Look,” Chance said. “When I pulled back a panel Edith had duct taped to the wall in her storeroom, I found several wires that were completely stripped of any insulation. Without taking down more of the walls, I had no way of knowing how extensive the problem was.” Chance’s voice was everything that was reasonable.

  Fire licked in Jane’s gut. No way did he get to be the voice of logic. “You kicked her out! My mom isn’t rolling in dough. If she can’t run her store for a month, she might go out of business.”

  Chance frowned. “It shouldn’t take more than a week for those repairs.”

  “If a contractor was available immediately.” Rubbing her gritty eyes, Jane sighed, the anger and fight draining out of her. Exhaustion took their place. “Unless she wants to pay an exorbitant sum of money that she can’t afford, the earliest she can get someone out to her building is in three weeks.”

  Chance rested his hand on her shoulder. Even though he was the source of all her problems, the contact was warm and heavy and comforting. She leaned into his touch.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice as soft as velvet. “It just wasn’t safe. It looked like the electrical in that building was fifty years old. I didn’t want anything to happen to her.”

  And how the hell could she argue with that? For all her quirks and her sleep-kicking, her mom was great, and of course Jane didn’t want anything to happen to her either. She had stormed down to the fire station before her morning cup of coffee, all hellfired to really give it to Chance. Maybe that was her problem. She needed her coffee. Then she could figure out what to do about her mom.

  She wrinkled her forehead. She had some savings she could give her mother, but she didn’t think Edith would accept money. The woman never hesitated to give to charity, but accepting it was another matter.

  Chance grasped her face between his two hands, his thumbs massaging the stress out of her temples. “I’ll help you figure something out.”

  “What?” She should step away from him. His gesture was too familiar, especially in front of the chief. It would give him, and Chance, the wrong idea about their relationship. And in a couple of minutes, she would step back. She bit back a moan as his thumbs brushed a particularly sensitive spot.

  “I can see what you’re thinking,” Chance said. “When your face gets all scrunched up, I know you’re worrying about everyone around you. You never worry that much about yourself.” He leaned in, and Jane inhaled his clean scent of soap and man. Pressing his mouth to her ear, he murmured, “Don’t worry, Janey-girl. We’ll think of something.”

  “I know some guys.” Finnegan’s gruff voice interrupted the spell she was falling under. With Chance pressed so closely to her, his smell, his strength enveloping her, it was hard for a girl to keep her head on straight. Digging down deep, Jane summoned up her willpower and pushed away from Chance, turning to the chief.

  “What guys?” she asked.

  “Electrical contractors.” He scratched his jaw. “They’re retired but still licensed. And they owe me a favor. And Chance and I and some of the other guys here can put the walls back up, slap on a new coat of paint, on our downtime. We’ll have it looking like a brand-new place at very little cost.” He crossed his arms across his burly chest, a patch of auburn hair curling above the vee of his polo shirt. “Edith deserves that much.”

  Chance also crossed his arms over his chest, but when he did it, he didn’t look determined like the chief. He looked like a boy who’d just had his birthday present stolen.

  Jane tilted her head to the side, lowered her brow. One second he was all We’ll figure something out. I just want to help you. And the next he’s ticked off because he had to help fix the mess he created? What the hell?

  “I can find some guys.” Chance faced off with the chief. “No need to call in a favor.”

  “I’m happy to help out Jane and her mother.” Finnegan looked down his nose at Chance. “Besides, where will you be finding a contractor? You don’t know anyone here, do you now?”

  Chance cracked a knuckle on one of his fingers. “I know some guys in Lansing. I can handle it.”

  “Lansing’s a couple of hours away. My guys are local.” Finnegan took a step forward. “I think Edith would prefer my contractors.”

  Jane’s mouth dropped open. It was like watching two junkyard dogs circling a bone. She’d woken up this morning with nothing but problems, and now she was listening to two men argue over multiple solutions. Her brain didn’t want to focus, just wanted to go back to sleep. She didn’t understand what was going on, and she didn’t care.

  She cut in before Chance could argue for his guys again. “Figure it out! I don’t care which contractors you use, just get it done.” Winding a key off its ring, she slapped it down on the table. “Here’s the key for my mom’s building. Give it to whichever contractor you choose, and tell him it’s a rush job.” She rubbed her temple. “I don’t know how many more nights like last night I can take without snapping.”

  Finnegan’s face softened in sympathy. “Aye. Don’t you worry. We’ll get it done as fast as possible.”

  Chance clenched his hands into fists, but nodded his agreement. “We’ll sort it out, Jane. And if you need a good night’s sleep—”

  Jane put a stop to wherever that train of thought was heading. “Don’t want to hear it.” Her body offered up a token protest at her immediate refusal. That sounded like it could have been an interesting offer, one that could possibly make her body very, very happy. She told her body to shut up and promised it a nap during her break at work today. “Just call me when it’s done.”

  Both men nodded. She didn’t protest when Chance took her elbow, and led her to her car.

  “You okay to drive?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” Jane unlocked her car. “My first stop will be Starbucks. I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay.” He settled her in the seat and leaned down. “Don’t worry, Jane. I’ll sort it out.”

  If there was an emphasis on the I’ll, Jane didn’t acknowledge it. She couldn’t analyze the weird pissing match that had just occurred. She was just too tired to understand anything other than the fact that she didn’t understand men at all.

  * * *

  Jane poked at the yellow piece of paper Chance was glowering at. “Right there. With the check mark. That was supposed to be your job!”

  She, Chance, and Judge Nichols were holding an emergenc
y meeting in her apartment after it’d been discovered that someone—she glared at Chance—hadn’t secured the caterer like he was supposed to. Now it was two weeks before the ball and they had no food.

  “There’s a check mark by that number on the list,” Chance growled. “Check marks mean it’s already done.”

  “No, the check mark means I wanted you to do it,” Jane said. “You said you wanted to help. I gave you the caterer and the florist.” Leaning back on the couch, she sighed. “You haven’t called the florist, either.”

  “No.” Chance smacked his hand on the coffee table, picked up the to-do list, and waved it in her face. “Because there’s a big fricking check mark in front of it.”

  She narrowed her eyes. Jane wasn’t normally a violent person, but she really wanted to smack him. How could he be so dense? And now he was trying to blame her for his mess.

  Edith poked her head in from the kitchen. “What did you expect, Jane? My place is one giant mess. If he can’t organize one teensy rewiring, how do you think he’s going to organize a fundraiser?”

  Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, Chance sighed. “It’s only been one day, Edith. It’s going to look like a mess for a couple of days before it comes together.”

  She sniffed. “So you say.” Picking up a cup of tea, she drifted across the living room. “I’ll be in the bedroom taking a nap. No offense, Jane. But I just don’t sleep well with you next to me.”

  Jane waited for the door to snick shut before biting down on her fist and stifling a scream. “I’m hard to sleep next to? The bags under my eyes would require oversized-luggage fees.”

  Chance smiled. “I don’t know what Edith’s talking about. I never had any problems sleeping next to you.”

  Judge Nichols coughed into his fist, and Jane glared at Chance. Reason number 212 to add him to her shit list. She knew the judge didn’t think she was a virgin, but she still didn’t want to fling her past love life in his face.

  “Can we get back to the topic at hand?” she asked through clenched teeth. “Namely, your screwup and what we’re going to do to solve it?”

  “My screwup?” Chance inhaled deeply through his nose, let the breath out through his teeth with a hiss. “I’m not taking responsibility for this cluster fu—” Darting a look at the judge, he cut off the end of his tirade.

  A flash of orange darted behind the couch they were sitting on. Jane watched as a bristly tail stalked around the corner, circling behind Chance. When Cyclops’s tail got that twitchy, it wasn’t a good sign. She smiled.

  “Children,” Judge Nichols said sternly, wiping the smile off her face right quick, “I expected better from the two of you. You were supposed to be working together.”

  “We were,” she protested. “I gave Chance a list to do and I did mine.” She spun on him. “Didn’t you think there was anything strange when you went over the unchecked items and found that I’d already done them?”

  He shrugged. “When I called the band and they said they’d already confirmed with you, I figured you didn’t trust me and had decided to do everything yourself.”

  The judge interrupted Jane’s fuming. “And you didn’t call her to confirm that was the case?” The older man clucked his disapproval.

  Jane smirked at Chance, and the judge turned on her. “And you didn’t call to check in with his progress? You two are the cochairs of an important event. I expected better.”

  Jane lowered her chin toward her chest. “I’ll call the florist. I know Paul pretty well since he helps with the Flower Rangers. If Chance will get a caterer—”

  “So you two can still work separately?” Judge Nichols shook his head. “You need to learn to work together.”

  Jane poked her tongue into her cheek. Did the judge want her and Chance to make conference calls? That seemed rather silly. Besides, it would just be easier to do it herself. Chance obviously didn’t know what he was doing as chair of a fundraising committee, and the less time she had to be around him, the better.

  The hot kiss they’d shared after game night flashed through her mind. It was easier to work without him around, on a lot of levels. She darted a glance at him, and the tips of her breasts tingled. Even dressed casually in threadbare jeans and a polo shirt, he was hot as sin. She focused on the narrowed eye glaring at Chance’s leather loafer from the foot of the couch instead.

  She’d let Chance get too close, and she couldn’t allow that to happen again. Working separately was better.

  The judge’s face cleared into a serene smile. “I’ll handle the catering. I just left Allison’s diner and I don’t think I’ll have any trouble convincing her to help us.”

  Jane wrinkled her nose. “I love the Pantry, and Allison’s a great cook. But I don’t think meat loaf and burgers is what we’re looking for.”

  “Trust me.” He rocked up onto his toes. “Allison is more than that. She’ll do a great job.”

  At this point, they’d be lucky to get Colonel Sanders to cater. “Well, if you think you can get her on such short notice,” Jane said doubtfully.

  Chance sat forward on the sofa, not noticing the creeping bundle of fur stalking his foot. “Great. I’ll get in touch with the florist—”

  “You’ll both talk to Paul. You can stop by his shop after you deliver the meal that Allison prepared for Saul Harraday. The dishes are in my car, but since I’ll be back at the Pantry talking to Allison about the catering, I won’t have time to deliver the food.” The judge clapped his hands together, like the problem was solved. And for him, it probably was. Finding a caterer with only two weeks left was a cakewalk compared to going to Mr. Harraday’s. The old man’s tongue was filled with venom, and he used his cane more as a weapon than a tool to help him walk.

  “You’re taking food to Mr. Harraday?” Jane wet her lips with her tongue.

  “Yep. Once a week Allison cooks him up something good, makes sure there’ll be lots of leftovers so we know he’s eating something solid, and I know he’s still kicking. A safety check of sorts.” He rubbed his hands together. “And this week you and Chance are the lucky people who get to deliver it to him.”

  “Great,” she muttered.

  “Sure,” Chance agreed, oblivious to the danger. He was new in town and had no way of knowing the citizens of Pineville considered the old man their Boo Radley. He stood. “Jane and I . . . son of a—”

  Chance lifted his foot, glared in outrage at Jane. “Your cat!” he spluttered.

  “Run, Cyclops,” Jane yelled. The cat didn’t need telling. After delivering his revenge, the beast had sprinted for the kitchen, making his escape out the window. He paused at the sill, tail twitching, and Jane could have sworn the cat smiled smugly.

  Chance advanced a step. “Your cat peed on me,” he said quietly, only the flicker of a muscle in his jaw giving Jane warning.

  She tried not to smile. From the fire that crackled to life in Chance’s eyes, she knew she must not have succeeded.

  “You can’t blame Cyclops.” She took a step back. “He’s just defending his territory.”

  “I don’t blame the cat.” He stepped close enough to grab her, and Jane scuttled around the back of the couch. “I blame his owner.”

  The judge clapped his hands together. “Well, I’ll just leave you kids to it.” He started for the door.

  “Wait!” Jane flew after him. “I’ll just, uh, get that food from you.” Chance stood behind the couch, gripping its back, his fingers white. Yep, leaving the apartment for a cooling-off period was a definite necessity. “I’ll get the bag from the judge’s car while you clean up.” Snagging her keys from the bowl by the door, she added, “In fact, why don’t you meet me downstairs?” Jane didn’t want to come back to her living room to face him. Not when there were no witnesses. Being in public was a much better idea.

  Grabbing her purse, she followed the judge out the door. “I’ll see you downstairs,” she said brightly, closing the door on his glower. She held back her
laughter until she hit the sidewalk, then let it spill out.

  Judge Nichols shook his head as he handed her the bag of food, but his lips twitched. “I’ll see you two later. And Jane”—he rested his hand on her shoulder—“we can’t let past hurts ruin this fundraiser. I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but you need to work it out.”

  Easily said. But Jane nodded and waved as he drove off. Waited for Chance to come down.

  And waited.

  She was sitting on the trunk of her car when he finally emerged from her apartment building. The bottom half of one of his pant legs was wet and his one loafer was a darker shade of brown than the other. Holding the bag of food in front of her like a shield, she smiled. “Ready to go?”

  “Yes.” He snagged her keys from her hand, and climbed in the driver’s side. Without holding her door open for her this time, she noticed.

  Grumbling, she sat in the passenger’s seat. “Took you long enough. It was just a little pee.”

  Chance jammed his foot on the accelerator, and her head whipped back. She gritted her teeth.

  “I couldn’t get my shin in your sink so I took my jeans off.”

  Whoa. Chance had been pantless in her apartment. She swallowed. His thighs looked really muscular now. Strong. Maybe she shouldn’t have fled, but stuck it out in her place.

  “And I used your hairdryer to try to save my shoe.” They both looked down at his foot on the pedal. “I don’t think it worked.”

  “They were old anyway. Had a good life.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “They’re well-worn. Molded perfectly to my foot shape.”

  “And now one just has a couple of spots on it,” she said. “Hardly noticeable.”

  His knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. “The smell is noticeable.”