Putting Out Old Flames

by Allyson Charles

  She’d hoped he was congested. Once they’d gotten into the enclosed space of the car, the odor had become pungent. Rolling down the window, she tried to force optimism into her voice. “I’m sure it will fade. You’re going to want to take a left up here on Maple.”

  He followed her directions but remained silent. Pulling in front of Mr. Harraday’s house, Jane gave up on her forced cheer. “Look, if you want me to buy you a new pair of shoes—”

  “I don’t.” He turned off the ignition, pinned her with a stare. “I want your cat to not pee on me when I come over.”

  “The fundraiser will be over soon. You won’t be coming over after that, so I don’t think we have to worry about it.” She tried to keep her voice light. What would happen after the ball? She’d sworn she never wanted to see the man again, but when faced with that prospect, she felt . . . Crap. She didn’t know how she felt. But it wasn’t warm and fuzzy.

  Pineville was a small town. He was a firefighter and she worked in dispatch. They’d run into each other.

  She rubbed at her tight chest. Was that what she wanted, or wanted to avoid? She was so confused she didn’t know anymore.

  Chance grunted and got out of the car. Grabbing the handles of the white plastic bag, she followed. He’d already knocked on the door by the time Jane joined him on the porch. They waited side by side a couple of minutes, Chance’s arm brushing hers as he shifted.

  “I don’t think he’s home,” he said. Knocking again, Chance leaned sideways to look through the window. “It’s pretty dark in there.”

  Jane peered through the window on the other side of the door. “He’s an old man. He probably doesn’t turn on the lights during the day, to save money.”

  “That’s harsh.”

  Jane jumped off the porch and went to another window. “Remember your grandfather when he’d come to visit? He’d sit in that BarcaLounger and shoot a rubber-band gun at me if I didn’t turn the light off when I left a room.”

  Chance grinned. “I think he just liked hearing you shriek. Can’t say I blame him.”

  Jane shot him a look.

  “It’s high-pitched and girly. Cute,” he amended when she narrowed her eyes. Hands on hips, he looked at the small house. “Let’s leave the food on the porch. He’ll see it when he gets home.”

  Jane bit her lip.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Well, what if he’s fallen? The judge said the man was expecting him.” She tugged at the window, grunting when it didn’t budge. “I’d hate to leave only to find out later that he needed help. Even if it is Mr. Harraday.”

  Chance pulled her away. “Breaking and entering isn’t going to help. A neighbor might call the cops.”

  “I think Jerome’s on duty. He’d help me break in to check on Mr. Harraday.” Jane walked to the side of the house. A six-foot fence with a locked gate blocked her view.

  “Meaning I won’t?” Chance’s breath was hot on her neck.

  Stepping to the side, Jane gripped the top of the fence and tried to pull herself up to get a look over. She had about two seconds of hang time before scraping back down the wood to the ground. She shook her arms out. “Apparently you won’t, since I’m doing all the work here.” Besides a weed-strewn lawn and some rusty patio furniture, Jane hadn’t seen much in her first jump.

  She went for another. Clenching the top of the fence, she hopped up, trying to walk the soles of her sneakers up the side.

  A hand on her butt took the weight off her arms. “Hey!”

  Chance grunted and lifted her higher. “See anything?”

  “No.” Jane’s hips dug into the wood, and she leaned forward, trying to shift her weight to a better position. “But I might hear something.” She turned her head to listen. “A radio maybe?”

  “Okay, get down.” Chance shifted his hand from her butt to her hip. She knew he meant it to help, that he wouldn’t let her fall. She knew it, but when that support that she’d been resting on disappeared and she started to slide backwards, her body went into panic mode, not trusting that the light grip on her hip would catch her.

  She threw her upper body forward, hoping to balance herself. And the light grip on her hip that would have eased her body back down the fence had no purchase to hold her as she toppled over the other side.

  “Shit!” Chance yelled from the other side of the fence.

  Jane lay on her back, disoriented from her ass-over-teakettle flop into Mr. Harraday’s backyard. Chance’s upper body sprang into view as he pulled himself up onto the fence and swung his legs over, leaping over in one smooth move.

  She hated that men could do that so easily while she could barely clear ten inches in a jump. All those muscles flexing and bunching in Chance’s body. Yeah, really hated it.

  He dropped next to her. “Are you all right?” A crease appeared above his nose when she didn’t answer. “What hurts?”

  “Besides my pride?” She pushed his hand away and propped herself up on her elbows. Her rear end was going to be sore tomorrow, but he didn’t need to know that. “I scraped my palm and banged my elbow, but I’m fine.”

  Chance didn’t pay attention to her assessment and went into medic mode, running his hands lightly along her body, checking for breaks. “Follow my finger,” he ordered, holding a digit up in front of her eyes, moving it back and forth.

  Grabbing his finger with her own, she yanked it away from her face. “I’m fine. This patch of weeds broke my fall.”

  His face relaxed. Sighing, he ran his hands around her head, felt the contours of her skull. “I don’t know why I’m even checking. Your head’s too hard to get hurt.”

  Jane wanted to pull away, get up, but the head massage felt too damn good. She’d forgotten how talented Chance was with his hands. “I thought you used to say I was soft in the head.”

  His fingers paused. He looked down at her, the rim of his irises so dark they almost looked black. “That was your heart, Jane. You always had a soft heart.”

  That organ stilled before jumping into overdrive. She needed to keep her mouth shut. Something really stupid, something that would tell Chance more than she wanted him to know, was ready to tumble out, and she couldn’t let that happen.

  Dragging his fingers through her hair, Chance pulled his hand back, holding a dandelion. He put it before her mouth and smiled. “Make a wish.”

  Don’t be an idiot. Don’t let yourself get hurt again. There were too many wishes to pick just one. She puckered her lips and blew.

  Don’t lose him again darted through her head as the white seeds wafted from their stalk and floated to the ground.

  She groaned. That was her wish? She was smarter than that.

  Chance frowned. “You do hurt. Where?”

  “I’m fine.” She extended her hand. “Help me up.”

  Chance’s warm hand gripped hers, pulling her to her feet. She forced herself to let go. Brushing stray weeds from her pants, she nodded her head at the rectangle of cement that acted like a porch. “Let’s knock at the side door. Maybe he just couldn’t hear us before.”

  Nodding, he set off through the knee-high grass. The yard was wild, overrun, and green as a forest. Jane frowned. She wouldn’t expect the elderly man to be out there mowing his lawn, but he must have someone who could help him.

  “Hello? Mr. Harraday?” Chance pounded on the door.

  Jane shaded her eyes, and tried to look in through the small window. She tugged at the sash, but it wouldn’t budge.

  Chance circled his arms around her, tried the window himself. “Now you’ve got me trying to break and enter.”

  She smiled. The role reversal was fun. She could understand why he’d always tried to push her into going outside her comfort zone in high school. Being the devil on someone’s shoulder held a definite appeal.

  For a worthy cause, of course.

  “Maybe we should call the police,” she said. “He had hip surgery last year.” That Flower Ranger visit still sent a chill down her spin
e. Crotchety old men amped up on pain meds were just mean. “He really could have fallen. Or had a heart attack. Or a stroke.”

  Chance put his hands on her shoulders, turned her to him. “You don’t need to list every possible cause of death. I’ll walk around the house, see if there’s any way I can get in. You keep knocking. If he still hasn’t answered by the time I get back, we’ll call the police.”

  Her shoulders released the tension she didn’t know she’d been holding. That was why she’d gone along with his teenage schemes, why she felt comfortable clambering into someone else’s backyard with Chance around. Whether it was skinny-dipping in Bonner’s Pond or participating in Senior Cut Day, if Chance was by her side, she knew everything would end up okay. He could calm her with just one touch.

  She watched him walk around the corner, trying to keep her eyes off his firm butt. Focus, she told herself. Mr. Harraday. Still watching the corner Chance had disappeared around, Jane raised her hand to knock on the door. The door that swung violently inward. She shrieked.

  A cane that branched into four rubber-tipped ends poked out at her. She skittered back, stumbling off the cement slab.

  “What the hell ya doing, poking round my backyard?” Mr. Harraday yelled.

  Chance pounded around the corner. “What’s wrong? You made your girly shriek.”

  “Nothing’s wrong.” She smoothed her hands down her sides. “Mr. Harraday just startled me. And I don’t have a girly shriek.”

  Both men raised eyebrows.

  Squaring her shoulders, she ignored the heat creeping up her neck. “Mr. Harraday, we brought you your meal from the Pantry. Why didn’t you answer the door?”

  “Huh?” He cupped his ear.

  She gritted her teeth. “I know you have excellent hearing, Mr. Harraday.”

  He wrinkled his face like he’d just sucked a lemon. “None of your business why I didn’t answer. Could’ve been on the crapper. Or maybe I just didn’t want to see your ugly face.”

  “What?” Chance stepped forward. “What did you just say?” He sounded more perplexed than angry.

  Jane patted his arm. The first experience with Mr. Harraday was always the hardest. “Judge Nichols asked that we deliver the food and make sure you’re all right. The food is on the front porch and we can see you’re just as . . . spirited as ever. We’ll head out now.”

  “Sure. Breeze in, breeze out,” the old man grumbled.

  Jane hesitated. “Would you like us to stay for a bit? Keep you company?”

  Chance’s brow drew down and he shot her a look. He needn’t have worried.

  “Hell no! I don’t need no damn babysitter.” He shook his cane.

  “You have a daughter in Ann Arbor, don’t you, Mr. Harraday? Does she get out to visit you often?” She looked around the yard. If the daughter did come, yard work obviously wasn’t on her agenda. Not that there weren’t better ways to spend time with your father.

  “What do I want her out here for?” Harraday asked. “Just another person bothering me, telling me what I can and can’t do.” He snorted. “All she does is pester me. Wants me to move in with her.” Poking his cane in the air for emphasis, he hollered, “Well, I ain’t gonna.”

  Putting a hand on her elbow, Chance pasted a placating smile on his face. “We’ll get out of your hair.” He leaned down to Jane. “You didn’t tell me the guy is nuts.”

  “Not nuts,” she whispered. “Just mean.”

  “I heard that!”

  She sighed. “And definitely not deaf.”

  Harraday turned and smacked a button on a plastic box by the door. Odd. He didn’t seem like the type to have a security system.

  “Don’t come back,” he said over his shoulder. “Or I’ll set the dogs on you.” The door slammed shut.

  “Does he have dogs?” Chance asked.

  They moved toward the front gate. “Not that I’ve heard,” she said. “But for us, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind getting a couple of Dobermans.”

  Chance paused. “What’s that sound?”

  Jane cocked her head, heard several clicks. “I don’t know. It sounds almost like . . . oh shit! Run!”

  But it was too late. The sprinklers dotted around the yard had already popped their heads up and started spraying. Jane ran for the gate, felt water jet across her back.

  Chance was right behind her. They pulled at the gate, not seeing the closed padlock in their rush to escape.

  Jane flung herself at the fence. “Lift me over!” The back of her jeans clung wetly to her thighs.

  “There’s cement on the other side.” Chance grabbed her around the waist, pulled her off the fence. “You’ll split your head open.”

  He pulled her across the lawn to the back of the house, right into the eye of the sprinkler storm. Jane plastered herself to his side, got hit on the right by an arcing spray. Ducking under his arm, she dodged to his left.

  “We’re already wet,” Chance yelled. “Stop bobbing and weaving. Let’s just run for it.” His hand slipped off her shoulder, and he stumbled. His legs caught in hers, and they tumbled to the lawn in a sodden heap.

  Pressing up to her hands and knees, Jane turned to see if Chance was okay and got hit in the face with a spurt of water for her trouble. Chance’s laughter drowned out the snick-snick-snick of the sprinklers. Jane glared at him, and he rolled on his back, laughing harder.

  “Real nice.” Jane pushed her hair off her face. “We’re filthy and—”

  Her sentence ended in a gasp as Chance wrapped an arm around her waist, pulled her under the stream of the returning sprinkler spray. She landed on his chest, her hand slapping into the earth beside him with a squelch. A slop of mud darted across his cheek.

  This time Jane laughed.

  Chance shook his head. “Be careful what you laugh at, Janey-girl.” He trailed a finger down her face, and Jane felt the ooze of mud trickle down the path he made.

  Digging her hand into the ground, she came up with a clump of dirt and crabgrass. Before she could make him eat it, Chance rolled and grabbed her wrist, pinning her hand to the ground. “Uh, uh, uh.” His smirk dropped when she flicked mud at him with her other hand.

  The maturity level went downhill from there. Jane shrieked when Chance shoved cold sludge down her shirt. She laughed when her own wiggling sent who-knows-what down the back of her jeans. They only stopped tussling when Harraday shouted out the window, “I’m calling the cops if you two don’t git. Indecent is what you are!”

  Chance grinned down at her, his chest brushing against hers with each breath, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You heard the man.” His gaze darkened when he looked at her wet shirt. “Wonderfully indecent.”

  His scrutiny heated her despite the wet and mud. Her pulse galloped, and the scent of grass swamped her senses. She’d forgotten how he made all her senses awaken, made her aware of the tingling in every nerve-ending in her body. When she was with Chance, she felt truly alive. She was a more exciting, interesting person when they were together.

  Her fingers itched to reach up, thread in his thick hair, tug his head down to hers. She parted her lips in anticipation. Chance lifted one corner of his mouth in a move so familiar, it was a knife to her gut. This was Chance. The man who’d literally loved her and left her. Just because her body wanted him back didn’t mean her mind was on board with that idea.

  So she snorted, shook her head, and pushed at his shoulder. “You’re a riot.” She infused her words with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

  He sat back on his haunches. “I like to think so.”

  Water slapped him in the face.

  Jane laughed all the way around the house until they reached the sidewalk. Chance dripped next to her, tufts of chestnut hair sticking out in every direction. She only stopped laughing when he smiled evilly down at her and said, “I’m glad we took your car.”

  Looking at her filthy body and at the clean tan interior of her car, she sighed. No good deed went unpunished.

  Chapter Ten


  “Okay, everyone. I need ideas.” Jane looked at the fundraiser committee, her hopes sinking at every blank face she encountered. They were all assembled at the Pantry, having agreed to make that their official meeting spot. Jane forked a flaky bit of cranberry-apple pie into her mouth. The desserts were just too damn good to go anywhere else.

  Her mother wiped a smear of chocolate mousse from her lips with her napkin. “Are you sure the Regency can’t host us? It was a big enough ballroom.”

  “We’re sure,” Chance butted in. A steaming mug of coffee sat on the table in front of him, the only person to forego a dessert. He’d been one of those freaks of nature who didn’t really care for sweets, and Jane supposed he still was. If the trade-off was a chiseled set of washboard abs, it was probably worth the loss of Allison’s baked deliciousness.

  Jane laid a hand over her own softly rounded belly. She could make that trade-off, get in better shape. The half-eaten piece of pie beckoned, the tart cranberries a sharp contrast with the sweet apples. She shoveled in another mouthful, her eyes sliding shut. Nope. She’d just have to learn to live with the softness.

  Chance kept talking, and she let him, because, pie. “The Regency had to close many of their public rooms for emergency renovations. At the time of our event, that ballroom will be torn down to the sheetrock.” Frowning, he took a sip of coffee. “I’m not surprised they have a mold problem. With their lax attitude toward elevator maintenance, they probably make a habit of letting things slide. All in all, I think we’re better off not holding the fundraiser there.”

  Jane paused, fork at her lips. She hadn’t realized the problem at the hotel was so extensive. She’d just been told by the manager that the ballroom was no longer available. Chance must have called for more information. She chewed on her lip. Maybe his wife told him about it. Was she still in town? Had she been kicked out of the hotel, too, and if so, where was she staying?

  Sneaking a sidelong glance at him, Jane thought about the encounter with the soon-to-be-ex at the Regency. Chance hadn’t seemed pleased to see Annette. But she was Josh’s mother. It would only make sense to let her stay at his house. She put her fork down, her stomach no longer a happy camper. Maybe they’d reconcile.