Feline the Heat (The Firehouse Feline Book 1)

by L. A. Boruff

  "But you would've still jumped on my back?" he asks, raising a brow, then leans down and grabs the dagger before handing it to me.

  "Probably." Shrugging, I answer without thinking, then put the weapon away. "You were following me, after all." I furrow my brow and give him my meanest look. "Why were you following me?"

  He shrugs. "For some reason, you strike me as a woman who gets into trouble. And since I’m one of the guys who gets called when someone does something stupid, I figured I'd check on you before you ruin my day."

  Snorting, I pick my bag up and walk around him. "Please, I’m not the least bit of trouble. I wanted to spend a relaxing day on the beach."

  "With a dagger?" he asks like he doesn’t believe me.

  "Yes." I tilt my head a little higher.

  "In fifty-degree weather?"

  "Yes," I say again, trying to sound confident.

  He shakes his head. "No one enjoys the beach in fifty-degree weather. I mean, look around you, see any other women strutting around not looking for trouble?"

  "That’s because you don’t know me at all. I happen to enjoy cool weather and time by myself," I mutter and keep walking.

  "Why don’t you tell me about yourself then? So that, in the future, I don’t worry every time I see you doing something potentially dumb."

  I stop and stare at him, every curse word imaginable exploding in my mind. Why does this man make me so grumpy? I’m usually so good at ignoring idiots.

  Yeah, he's hot, that's for damn sure. But he's cocky-hot like he knows he's a stud and expects women to fall at his feet, legs spread and ready for him.

  No thank you. So why does he affect me so badly?

  My cat purrs as I look at him critically. Shut up, you. He's not our type.

  She purrs louder as if to say, He’s everybody’s type.

  "You going to stare at me all day? Not that I mind. But you did imply you’re some exception to all logic, and I’m here waiting to learn why."

  My cheeks heat, and I stand up straighter, trying to push all thoughts of his sexy body out of my mind. "Sorry to disappoint, but I can’t think of a single thing I want to say to you."

  He flashes me a crooked smile that makes my underwear melt. "Boy, you’re defensive. Haven’t you ever had anyone just be friendly with you?"

  "Friendly? Yeah, right."

  My heart is beating a little too fast as I continue to stare at him. Cursing myself, I turn and walk, distracting myself by searching the sand for the little paper. But my cat is aware of every inch of him, and she’s starting to make it very clear what she thinks I need. I get the sense she’s urging me to grab his hand or his dick or something.

  Yeah, right. Because humans do that to strange men all the time.

  I try not to snort and reprimand her out loud, throwing my head back and sucking in a deep breath.

  Mistake, that. Not watching where I'm going on the beach, my foot snags on a branch on the ground, and I flail forward.

  I'll be damned if I'll be rescued by the jerk, though, so before he can reach out and help—which he immediately tries to do—I tuck and roll, a move I learned when I took self-defense classes. Springing to my feet, I continue on my way, leaving Will standing in my clumsy, yet hopefully impressive, dust.

  But then his voice comes to me, so freaking smug. "That was lucky. A twisted ankle might have meant you being stuck out here, which could’ve meant some unlucky firemen having to drop everything to help you."

  I glare at him. "But I didn’t twist my ankle."

  He shrugs. "Just thought I’d mention one of the many reasons walking out here alone was a bad idea, and me following you was a good one."

  I toss my hair over my shoulder and keep walking. "Some men will find any excuse to follow me around."

  His laugh reaches my ears. "And some women are plain delusional."

  I’m about to give him a piece of my mind when I realize we're close to the spot the golem attacked the man. The firefighter fades into the background, and my mind sharpens. This is why I do this. For these moments when I feel like something significant is about to happen.

  I want to pull out my recorder and camera and make some notes about how I got here, to keep the details fresh in my mind for my blog, but I can't do that with Fireman Will standing over my shoulder. So I keep walking, slowly, and try to remember as many details as possible.

  The inlet that the golem had dragged the man into is immediately ahead, as is the wall I'd pressed myself against. I can see now why there's a wall on this part of the beach. The inlet leads to a marshy area. We didn't go very far the other night, but now I see the wall before the inlet was the lower part of a shower stand. A long boardwalk trails off the concrete shower and bathroom, snaking inward toward the touristy part of town.

  Okay, so somewhere in the edges of the marsh should be a pile of mud and if I'm lucky, a very important piece of paper.

  "Callie, I'm trying not to be a drag here, but haven’t you proven your point or whatever?" Will looks all around the area like a nervous grandma.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing. This whole thing is stupid."

  I study him.

  He throws up his hands. "Fine, I don't get a good feeling from this place. Call it a fireman’s intuition."

  "Then go," I say, trying not to let his nervousness make me rethink my decision to come here.

  "Why don’t we both go? We can head to your place, and, well, you could tell me more about your blog. I couldn’t find anything about it online."

  He’s trying to distract me, and I hate that it works.

  "You looked it up?" I ask.

  He shrugs, dashing the flicker of hope that had risen inside of me. "Some nights I get so bored on duty I’d do about anything, even look up a dumb blog about fairytales and shit."

  Ass!

  I glare at him. "I don’t write about fairytales."

  "Then show me what you do write about," he insists, stepping into my path.

  I frown at him. Is all this about his instincts or his concern I’ll get hurt? Or could he know something about the golem?

  Probably not. He’s probably weirded out by a woman walking around with a dagger. Something I don’t exactly blame him for.

  "If you’re so concerned about me, hang out, I can’t stop you. But shut up, okay? Because I’m over you driving me nuts."

  "Suit yourself," he says, but he looks like he’s as angry as I am.

  Which makes no sense. He’s the one bugging me, not the other way around.

  Looking toward the waves, I try to judge how far up the water would come during high tide, and I'm not optimistic. If the mud was thinner, the water would've washed it away already. As it is, it's not as big of a pile as I remember there being the night it happened.

  The chances of the paper being here are slim.

  "Damn it!" I exclaim, turning in a circle. The area is easy to search, and there's no paper here.

  The tide is low, so the water is pretty far away. I walk toward it, contemplating my options. I could dig through the mud and see if the paper might still be toward the bottom, but it'd probably be ruined even if it's there.

  As I stand there lamenting the insanity that is my life, I see a little piece of white out of the corner of my eye. Down the beach, a little way, in the middle of a small patch of grass, sits a piece of paper.

  Could it be? Could I get this lucky?

  Probably not, but here's for trying. I stumble my way over to it, the sand uneven and hard to walk on. Will trails behind, his scrutinizing gaze pushing against my back, but I continue ignoring him.

  Avoidance. Helping me get through life for twenty-one years.

  The paper flutters in the breeze coming off the water, but it's snagged by a branch in the grass. I disentangle it and open it.

  It's the spell. It's far bigger than I pictured. Instead of being paper in the modern sense, it's yellowed parchment. It's old. I don't know how it didn't crumble or disintegrate between the
water, grass, and wind, but I’m glad it didn’t.

  The symbols are completely foreign to me at first, but as I study them harder, I realize the language is Latin. I can’t read it, but I see it a lot in my research. And if I can get it home, I can use the internet to translate.

  I'm ready to leap for joy, completely blown away that I found the paper when Will catches up. "What is that?" he asks suspiciously. He holds his hand out, but I fold the paper and tuck it into the front pocket of my bag.

  "So I guess you weren’t out for a nice day on the beach?"

  I glare at him. "What’s it to you?"

  He moves closer, his big body towering over mine, and my breath catches as I gaze up into his intense green eyes. "You told me you were here to research stuff for your blog. Does this have anything to do with that?"

  I open my mouth, then snap it shut as a shudder moves over my body.

  Oh shit, my cat is about to take over.

  "Excuse me, I need to use the bathroom," I say, then make a beeline for the shower and restroom building.

  He catches my hand. "Callie, I wasn’t kidding about leaving the people in this town alone."

  "It’s not your problem," I grit out, then clamp my teeth as another shudder moves over my body.

  Tugging my hand free of his grip, I rush toward the restroom.

  "This conversation isn’t over!"

  "It is for now!" I shout back. "Now, leave me alone. I’m going home after this, and you better not be around when I come out."

  He shouts something back at me, but I can’t hear it as I sprint into the bathroom.

  I make it into a stall before I start to shift. My bones break. My skin fades and fur sprouts, and I grow smaller and smaller until I’m my cat, sitting in a pile of my clothes. She shakes her fur and stretches as if awakening from a long nap. I consider trying to convince her to attempt to tuck my clothes into my messenger bag, but there's no point. She couldn't get the shoes in there anyway. And I know she won’t try.

  She steps lightly, walking out of the bathroom where Will waits.

  With a tail twitch, she considers him before lifting her nose into the air and sniffing.

  Turning toward a smell that appeals to her more than Will does, she takes us away and toward the houses lining the beach.

  Great. Now where are we going? I hope Will doesn't have the nerve to look in the women's bathroom and find my bag.

  Or consider how I managed to climb out of the tiny bathroom window.

  Or why a normal woman would do such a thing in the first place.

  This curse, it’s put me in worse positions before. But still, I kind of hate the idea that Will already thinks I’m a weirdo.

  New town. Same old reputation.

  Chapter Six

  James

  I place the card on the table, using it to complete the line in front of me. It's not something I should share with Hank and Will, they'd laugh about it. But it's one of the last connections I have to my mother, and I play every night to preserve her memory.

  The Queen of Hearts calls out to me, and I stroke my finger down the side of it. Other than a single drop of dried blood, it's pristine, like the rest of the set. I don't know what happened to her, but the bloodstain hadn't been there before my mother died.

  It was one of those things I have to accept. Like her death itself.

  The door creaks open, and I spin around. The others know better than to interrupt me at this hour.

  "Hank, if you're coming to tell me about the—" I stop as a cat slinks into the room. Crouching, I hold out my hand, hoping she'll come to me. I'm not an animal person, but there's something about this beautiful beast that makes me change my mind.

  To my surprise, she pushes against my hand, her silky smooth fur soft to my touch.

  "Hello. What's your name?" I ask, even though I know she won't answer. How can she?

  Then again, I've seen weirder things in my time.

  "What are you doing here?"

  "Meow."

  "Yes, me too," I respond with a sigh. Despite my better judgment, I lean against the wall and change my position. Opening my arms, I invite the cat onto my lap.

  It's a weird thing to do, even I can admit that. And yet, it feels right. I don't question that too much. I've spent enough time around the supernatural to know that I should listen to my gut instincts.

  The cat clambers onto my knee and curls up into a ball. Loud purrs emanate from her chest. I close my eyes and lean my head against the wall as a sense of peace overtakes me. This isn't what I expected when the creature walked into the room, but I won't complain.

  My hand strokes down her back and her purring increases, the vibrations spreading through my body, soothing me in a way I've never experienced.

  "I've never had a pet, you know," I say to the animal. "Probably for the best. Father could be cruel, I'm sure he'd have made life miserable for the creature like he did for my mother and me. My life's not been one I'd wish on anything innocent."

  The words spill out without me meaning them to. But then, that’s why I like to be alone when I play my cards. It’s a time when I'm vulnerable. A time when I contemplate my past and my family.

  "But you probably knew that when you came in here," I say to the cat, petting it gently.

  I haven't told anyone about my life before this town. Not even Hank and Will, though they asked a couple of times when I first met them. They stopped as soon as they were met with stony silence too many times.

  The cat pushes her head against my hand, urging me to touch her more.

  I scoff to myself. "Why am I telling you this? You don't care about anything more than scratches and where your next meal is coming from."

  It hisses, claws digging into the skin through my jeans.

  Now she's not the only one hissing. "Why did you do that?" I ask through gritted teeth.

  Maybe this isn’t the world’s way of sending me a fluffy pet when I’m feeling lost and lonely.

  But then she looks up at me with wide eyes and an innocent expression, and I know she didn’t mean it.

  Cats. They're all the same. Love and affection one moment, claws and daggers the next. No loyalty at all.

  "Maybe I'm more of a dog person after all," I mutter.

  "Meow."

  Oh no, now it sounds upset.

  "There, there." I pat her head and hope that's enough.

  A scuffling on the other side of the door draws my attention for a moment. It's probably Will goofing around again, nothing to worry about.

  But the cat stills in my lap, clearly listening to the sound too.

  The door swings open, and the cat bolts under my bed, letting my hand fall into my lap.

  "If you're jerking off, you should put a sock on your door," Will says, letting himself into the room without any pretense of waiting.

  "I'm not." I glance over at the table where I left my cards. I don't want to draw attention to them, but I also don't want Will to see them.

  "Then why are you sitting on the floor with your hand near your dick?"

  I roll my eyes. "Is sex all you ever think about?"

  "Tell me one thing that’s better to think about."

  "You're incorrigible." I push myself off the floor and walk over to the table, trying not to draw too much attention.

  Will doesn't seem to notice what I'm doing. Thank god for small mercies. I stack the cards and slip them into the packet before putting them in my pocket.

  He doesn't even question it. Something is amazing about the trust that exists between Hank and Will, and I suppose with me too. It’s unlike anything I've ever experienced before. And yet, I'm still on guard for the moment they start prying into my past. There's too much to hide for me to be completely comfortable.

  "What do you think of the girl next door?"

  I shrug. "She’s pretty."

  "And irritating. And mysterious," he adds, frowning.

  "You got all that from our one meeting?"

  He get
s a guarded look. "She seems like the type to drive you nuts and then disappear. You know? That annoying kind of woman who screws with your head."

  I laugh. "So, you seem to be thinking about her a lot."

  He scowls. "Just about taking her on a date and banging her moody attitude away."

  "Since when do you have to take a woman on a date to have sex with her?" I try not to examine the jealousy bubbling up in my gut. I don't want to get involved with anyone romantically, but if I did, then our new neighbor would be exactly the kind of woman I'd have in mind. Full of life and a determination to do what's right and damn anyone who stands in her way.

  Or is that even who she is? Usually, my first impressions are right, but I don’t know Callie enough to feel this certain about her.

  He runs his hand through his hair. "I thought I might take her for a date for other reasons too."

  "Oh?"

  "You know, to find out how serious she is about her little mission."

  "And you need to take her on a date to do that?"

  His frown grows. "Only if I want to have her stick around long enough to tell me anything."

  I sigh. "What’s going on, Will?"

  He’s quiet for a long minute. "We need to talk about the golem."

  Is that what this is about? "I don't think that’s anything we need to concern ourselves with."

  Though, I do feel a sense of dread over the whole matter. There's only a couple people I know who could have created it, and only one lives nearby. I'm not ready for the conversation that will happen if the guys discover that.

  "Golems are precisely the kind of thing we should be worried about." Will perches on one of the beds and leans back.

  The cat hisses softly, her eyes glowing underneath the frame. Yet I don't tell my friend she's there. Diverting the conversation will only raise suspicion. I've been in this situation before, and it never ends well.

  Secrets can destroy even the strongest bond if they're left to fester.

  "They're normally only sent on specific missions," I remind him.

  "And does it not worry you that the specific mission could reveal itself to the humans around?" he asks. "Or worse, put the journalist in danger?"