Dallas Fire & Rescue: Commanding Heat (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Fiery Fairy Tales Book 3)

by Siera London

Trace didn’t want to take advantage this woman. So, why was he flirting with Tori, kissing her? Freaking romance books. She lay curled in his lap like a contented kitten until he read the last page.

  She kicked at the couch’s armrest. “Why aren’t the other couple married?” she raged after he finished reading the epilogue.

  “They have a second book in the series.”

  “Oh,” she smiled. “What are you waiting for? Let’s get some popcorn for book two.”

  Trace was hard as a rock with Tori’s mouth so close to his junk.

  “No, I’ve reached my limit.” More like he teetered on the edge of his control. The urge to take her, push inside her body and stay there was a repetitive command in his head, and a warrior followed orders. He needed to get her out of the house. It was after seven. Happy Hour at Hobo Alley would be in full swing if they left now. His community was on the other side of the Cow Key Bridge, so it took him about fifteen minutes to get to downtown Key West and another five to reach their destination. The fire fighters had a designated table at the bar and grill located on the west end of Old Town Key West. Tori could meet his firehouse crew. Conversation came easy to Tori, so she’d fit right in. He tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “How about I take you out tonight, Princess?”

  Shaky, the part-time bouncer greeted them at the swing doors. The place was the ultimate man cave with dark plank floors, wooden tables, and non-stop beer. It sat on the corner of Eaton and Key West’s infamous Duval Street. Attractions, like the President’s Summer White House and Ernest Hemmingway’s home were blocks away. Twin windows the size of double doors faced east to the Atlantic Ocean and west toward the Gulf of Mexico. In addition to the prime real estate, there was a room-length bar and a live band that started up at ten o’clock.

  “Trace,” he stared at Tori. “When did you get a girl?”

  Shaky followed them inside like Trace had suddenly become more interesting. And maybe he had. Since he’d joined the firehouse crew, Trace had avoided serious relationships. No meeting friends, no dates, and definitely no sleepovers. For six years and counting that had been his reality until today.

  “Shaky. Don’t follow me. She’s real.”

  The owner, Rachel Hoberstein, was behind the counter when he walked through the door with Tori on his heels. She too stared at him with her mouth hanging open.

  Nathan Zachary, the arson investigator on staff sat with his wife, Symphony, nestled between his powerful long legs. Her pregnant belly was visible from the door. Symphony had been hired as a waitress while Nathan had been on assignment at DF&R Station 58. With her midnight, blue tresses and amber eyes, Nate had been a goner the first time he laid eyes on the butterscotch beauty. When her name made the suspect list in one of Nathan’s arson cases, him signing the arrest warrant had nearly destroyed them both. Trace still wasn’t sure how Nathan had won her back.

  “What’s up, Trace?” Adam asked, his voice falling faint when he noticed his plus one. Adam, Symphony’s former neighbor and honorary godfather, occupied the seat next to them. A long neck beer bottle suspended at his lips.

  Cutler and Kendall had their heads together at the same highboy table. When they looked up and saw him, Cutler waved him over. His friends smiled and called out familiar greetings, until they noticed the petite woman at his back. Nathan looked down right puzzled while Symphony had a loony smile on her face. Cutler came to his feet, while Kendall studied Tori like an interrogator ready to pull out the cuffs.

  Tori tightened her hand on his fingers. Trace smiled. So, she wasn’t totally fearless. He didn’t know why that pleased him. It was nice to know that she leaned on him for strength.

  “What’s up?” Trace asked when he approached the hot guys table. The verbiage wasn’t his. Claudia, the head waitress at Hobo’s called the table that and it had stuck.

  Nathan was the first to speak. “You’re the girl from the senior village fire.”

  Nathan’s piercing gray eyes seemed to dissect Tori. She moved to step away from him, but Trace pulled her back. He gave him a curious glance over her shoulder.

  “Hi. It’s nice to meet more of Trace’s friends.”

  His crew was cool, but he’d never brought a woman into the circle before. He didn’t know how long Tori would be around, but he didn’t want her drilled with questions. At least, not before he could do the asking.

  Kendall frowned. “We are Trace’s only friends,” she said, a hint of defensiveness in her tone.

  “Not anymore,” she chirped. “He has me.”

  Trace shook his head, but inside, he wore a big, stupid grin. She was staking her claim on him within the group. Was her motivation to get the five pairs of eyes off her arms? It was just like Tori to give anyone that thought to intimidate her a giant bird. That middle finger of hers sprouting a verbal wingspan with enough power to circle the bar twice over. They all needed to back off Tori, especially Kendall. Before joining their crew, Kendall had been married to the Chief of Police in Cockrell, Texas. The physical abuse she’d suffered at his hand made her naturally suspicious of new people, and fiercely protective of those she held dear. Trace was proud to be counted amongst her friends, but he wouldn’t tolerate an aggression aimed at his princess. Cutler, sensing the change in his mood, placed a hand on his fiancée’s neck, caressing.

  “Tori this everybody. Everybody this is Tori. Done with introductions,” Trace said, pulling her to the other end of the table.

  Without thinking, he grabbed her around the waist, and placed her on a stool. The proverbial music stopped. Shoot. All eyes were on them.

  Cutler smiled and tipped his bottle in their direction. “Welcome, Tori. I’m Cutler Stevens. This sexy redhead, is my soon-to-be ball and chain, Kendall. This here,” he continued pointing to Nathan, “fella with the dark glossy hair is Nathan Zachary, with his little momma, Symphony. Adam is the crusty barnacle who completes the group.”

  Trace had taken up a position behind Tori’s seat, scowling at all his friends. He could feel Tori’s smile.

  “Hi all. It’s great to meet you.”

  Kendall asked, “Got a last name, Tori?”

  Trace moved closer, pressing his front against Tori’s back. Tori squirmed in her seat, stopping only when her back pressed into his erection. He grunted, but didn’t put more space between them.

  She reached up over her shoulder and stroked his chest.

  “Sorry,” she whispered.

  He grunted in reply.

  “What?” he growled, at the table. “Drink your damn beers.”

  Symphony waved one of the white cocktail napkins. “Since when do you use profanity?”

  “Since my friends started staring like I have a third eye.”

  That seemed to reset everyone’s clock. The attention went from Tori to him, but he feared the damage had already been done. Her rigid posture called to his protective instinct. Those scars on her arms broadcast a story before she ever opened her mouth. It pissed him off that the Twitter version of her life was trending with his friends. Instinctively, he slid a protective arm around her waist. This time, those lovely curves of hers met his like oil and water. No, there was no melting into his body. And didn’t that piss him off all the more.

  “Claudia,” he called out, needing a beer in the worst way.

  Adam gave a smirk. “She’s supposedly out sick, but I heard talk of her new cowboy keeping her busy, if you catch my meaning.”

  Cutler chuckled. “Roy Orbison could catch that ‘TMI’ hard pitch.”

  “Rachel is swamped,” Adam continued. “We’re all nursing the first beer. Gotta make this puppy last.”

  Conversation had returned to normal, but not for him. Tori shifted on her stool in front of him. The witty banter they shared in the quiet of his home had dried up. He pressed his lips to her temple. When she angled her head, increasing the contact, he nestled his back around hers. His wide body swallowed her up, but she relaxed and sank into his arms. Perfection, he thought. “You okay now, P
rincess?” he whispered in her ear.

  “Better now,” she mouthed. The succulent scents of melon and mint tingled in his nose. He breathed her in, his body already addicted to her scent, and just like that, he was ready for some below the waist action.

  “Oh, I just thought of something.” Her spine straightened abruptly, forcing him to take a step back.

  “What’s that?” Before she answered him, she circled his wrist with those small hands. Trace noticed how soft Tori was compared to him. No rough spots on her body, rather the only sharp edges stemmed from her personality. What kind of life had she led before coming to him? A polished woman capable of a lethal bite.

  “I can wait tables.”

  “No,” Trace said. He wanted to keep her close to him, but she had already hopped down off her perch.

  “Come on. I won’t disappear on you.”

  Damn. She was right. He was afraid he would look up and she’d have vanished on him. He gotten used to spending his days with her.

  Trace took Tori over to the bar and introduced her to Rachel. When Tori mentioned that she had bar experience, Rachel welcomed the help. Within a couple of hours Tori had the bar running like an assembly line.

  Trace relaxed and watched her work.

  “Hey, man. What’s the story?” Cutler had moved to his end of the table.

  “No story,” Trace said, placing his empty bottle on the tabletop.

  “Is that why you can’t take your eyes off her? She’s a victim. You pulled her from the fire.”

  Fury erupted in Trace’s blood. He turned on his friend, a growl bursting from his throat. “She needed a place to stay.” That got everybody’s attention.

  “She’s staying with you?” A furrow pulled Kendall’s brows low. “Who is she? Where did she come from?”

  Symphony, with a hand over her seven-month belly said, “Trace, we’re just worried about you. You’ve been spending a lot of time with her.”

  Trace felt the need to defend himself. “I pulled her from that fire. She’s my responsibility.”

  A few pair of bugged eyes regarded him. Nathan spoke in a low tone. “Look, we all feel a certain connection to the people we help, but bringing her into your home—,”

  Trace didn’t need a lecture. “Look, your permission isn’t required. Mind your business. Tori just needs time to—,”

  Cheers erupted around the bar. Some tourists had wandered in, but several of the locals had their beers raised in song. At first all he saw was hair. Tori’s walnut tresses twirled around as she tossed her head to and fro. Trace realized that if he could see her above the crowd, she stood on something very tall...like the bar counter. He cursed. Tori’s voice carried over the jukebox, but it was the gyrations she repeated for the roaring crowd that painted his vision red. Abruptly, he shot off his stool, the thing tilted before hitting the floor.

  “Oh, man,” Cutler’s voice, pitched higher than normal. “She does a good wrecking ball.”

  There were a few gasps. Adam cleared his throat.

  “What are you talking–” Symphony’s voice was drowned out by Nathan’s. “She’s a spitfire.”

  Miley Cyrus’s song droned on in the background with Tori singing like she owned a golden gramophone mounted on a wooden base. She was oblivious to the human wrecking ball demolishing everything in his path to reach her. The sight of her licking a beer bottle sent the crowd into a frenzy and him into a rage. A drunk patron was reaching for her leg, when Trace gripped her around the knees and tossed her over his shoulder.

  She gasped at the impact. “Ah—,”

  He cut her off. “Don’t say a word,” he growled. “I’m taking you home.”

  Kendall called to him above the booing crowd. “Go easy on her, Trace.”

  Not likely to happen.

  Chapter Six

  Tori panted to catch her breath. Trace placed her in the front seat of his GMC Sierra and slammed the door. His eyes had darkened. The stare he aimed at her penetrated her depths with laser precision. Moving away from the scorching cut wasn’t an option in the small space. Why was he scowling? She tucked her lip between her teeth and waited.

  When he climbed inside and stabbed the key into the ignition, she realized all the elation she felt was not a shared experience. Trace was furious, but he wasn’t talking. Well, she would remove that option from the table.

  “That was fun,” she giggled. When he hit her with a fierce growl, she pressed one hand over her mouth, stifling her laughter. Recognizing he was not happy with her, Tori cranked her enthusiasm down a notch. “What? Too much, again?”

  Trace gripped the steering wheel. The skin over his knuckles stretched thin and pale, like the moonlight through the windshield. A flash of unease skirted through her. Was he refusing to talk with her?

  “Stop brooding and use your words,” she balked.

  He turned away from the road. “You want me to do something for you?”

  It was after midnight. A1A headed north was deserted this time of night. All the partygoers were behind them on Duval Street. She recalled the undergraduate Duval Crawl with her sorority sisters from Johns Hopkins University. Maybe, she would add a pub run to her list.

  “Yes,” she said, satisfied he’d gotten the signal to lighten up.

  “Let’s do an even exchange. You don’t shake your ass for other men.” He kept his eyes on the road, but she still felt the weight of his stare from earlier.

  Her breath hitched. Was he jealous? She had to know. “Are you seeing green because of what I did for the Hobos?”

  He cut her a sideways glance. “You’re pushing your luck.”

  “Trace, I need your support. Don’t be upset.”

  “Not with the bar act. Too late. You’re never going there again.” It was the fastest rush of words she’d received to date. Seeing this tough guy struggle to reign in his anger sobered her. Replaying his dictate got her attention.

  “You can’t do that. I need a job.”

  “It’s done.”

  “You’re not the boss of me,” she railed.

  Trace had the gall to smile. “Let’s test your theory,” he snapped.

  Anger caught fire in her belly. “You want an exchange. How about you tell your friends it’s rude to stare. To punish by association,” she yelled. Why had she let complete strangers make her feel dirty, a human stain? The compulsion to go on the attack had sizzled through her veins, charging every nerve ending with an electric current. As Trace’s tribe of friends assessed her rightness for him she saw two things reflected in their eyes—pity or predator. Either way, she came up lacking. Waiting the tables had helped to rebalance her mental scales, control the impulses. But then, she’d glanced over and saw Cutler questioning Trace. The strain was evident around his mouth as he spoke. He was being judged and found guilty by association. The leash on her control had snapped.

  The truck slowed its forward motion before coming to a complete halt. The red light didn’t stop the movie reel in her head. She’d done the right thing by getting them out of there.

  “Tori...” His voice was too gentle. “You did that, on the bar, for me?”

  The awe in his voice tugged at her heartstrings. Concentrate, she told herself, as emotion threatened to overwhelm her. Out of the corner of her eye, she regarded him. “For me, too.”

  He pressed his lips together. Narrowed brown eyes softened in comprehension. “Those impulses you mentioned earlier,” he waited a beat, “needed an outlet?”

  She drew a nervous hand across her temple. “Yes, something like that.” His expression blanked. And she didn’t know if she should be happy or sad. On one hand, there was no judgment. On the other, the connection she’d felt whenever he was near, dimmed.

  The traffic light flashed green. They were in motion again. Trace signaled, turned left and drove them down Atlantic Ocean Boulevard. He put the car in park and cut the engine when they reached Higgs Beach. The tropical scents of royal palm, butterfly orchids, and aloe from the West Ma
rtello Fort, now home to the local garden club, seeped in through the sunroof.

  Trace let out a sigh, deep and tremulous. Regret welled inside her for causing him distress.

  “I can take care of us, Tori. Only one of us has a rescue badge and you don’t have to work.”

  Did he realize what he was saying? He didn’t know a thing about her, not even her last name. It cut deep that she couldn’t be totally honest with him, but she wanted their time together to be special. Wanted him to remember she was the woman that protected him as fiercely as he did her.

  “I know you can, but...” Already, her being with him had changed his life. Not for the better, either.

  “But?”

  “You shouldn’t have to. Your friends don’t like that you’re with me.”

  He took her hand in his. “I agreed to your coming home with me. I knew what that entailed.”

  “Well, I want to take care of myself.” After six months under lock and key, Tori needed this taste of freedom. These few days would have to carry her through a lifetime of pain and regret.

  “That’s all it is?”

  A golf cart holding two women pulled along side them. They giggled as one bet the other who could reach the warm water first. Both climbed from the front bench, stumbling toward the water in the darkness. Nothing impeded their steps.

  “What else would it be?” she asked watching them wade into the ocean. As she watched the pair twist and turn in slow motion, she thought on the luxury of time. It was a commodity she could ill afford.

  “Maybe, you’re trying not to tie yourself to me. Not leave any debts behind.”

  She averted her gaze, not wanting Trace to see his truth reflected in her eyes. Strong fingers gripped her chin.

  “Don’t look away, Princess.”

  Tori couldn’t deny him. She glanced up and over. Tears stung her eyes. “Trace,” her voice shook. “Don’t ask.”

  In her heart, she knew he wouldn’t listen.

  “How long can you stay, Tori?”

  Loaded question. When she’d first met Denton at her father’s offices, he’d been a needed friend. At seventeen, she’d just lost her mother to an aneurysm and she’d been flattered that a young man in the company was bold enough to befriend the boss’s daughter. He’d encouraged her, comforted her, and said he loved her. Her hopes of marriage and a family were encouraged by his attentions. Denton’s aspirations stopped and started with his career, but that didn’t matter.