Sweet Burn

by Anne Marsh

  “What’s wrong with here?” Mimi looked around the gallery. Faye certainly had the space and she’d hosted events here before. Before she could finish getting the words out, however, Faye was already shaking her head.

  “It wouldn’t be a surprise then. Plus, those windows in the front would make it hard to hide the decorations. We need somewhere she wouldn’t expect.”

  Twelve heads swiveled and stared at Mimi like Faye’s idea was the best idea ever and the Second Coming rolled into one. Oh. Hell. No.

  “You want to hold it at the bar.”

  Faye smiled. “I’m so glad you dropped by.”

  “That wasn’t a yes.”

  Faye’s smile got bigger. “But I’m not hearing a no, either.”

  “Having Gia’s shower at Ma’s would be perfect,” Lily said. “She’ll never suspect.”

  Mimi wasn’t sure what that said about her, but the other women in the room were nodding along in violent agreement. Baby showers were foreign territory for her. Hell, she’d slept with Rio Donovan and now she was throwing his wife a baby shower? She opened her mouth to say no—and remembered Mack’s face. He’d do it in a heartbeat, wouldn’t hesitate even a moment. Damn it. She didn’t want to host a baby shower for her former lover’s wife. She didn’t do pink or presents or bobbing for nipples. Ever. She told herself that, but Mack’s face stared her down inside her head. And… this was why she didn’t do relationships or even go back for seconds. She’d made a brief exception for Rio and now she was tempted to do the same for Mack, and it was changing her. Making her do things she didn’t want to do.

  To heck with it.

  She could do this.

  “Count me in.”

  ***

  The Donovans’ hangar was a few miles outside of town. The place came with plenty of open space for parking trucks and planes, along with just enough runway to get the DC-3 airborne when a call came in and the jump team went up. This time of year, however, things were laid back. It was still too early for serious fires, although the lack of winter rain had everyone concerned. The mountains were drier than dry and if the rain didn’t come soon, all it would take was one spark, one match.

  Most of the team was still away, working winter jobs or recreating. Guys with families had gone home, but a few of jumpers stayed year-round, repairing gear and planning training runs, including Joey and Zay. Mack, at least, could have headed back to Louisiana and his place on the bayou, but he wasn’t sure those two actually had anywhere else to be. It didn’t matter. Here worked. Plus, the rest of the team would start to roll in in another month or so and then summer would come and they’d be balls out fighting fire.

  Jack had set up a sewing room in a back corner of the hangar with three sewing machines, a couple of those office chairs on wheels and some good light. There were also two rigging tables mostly covered in a jumble of parachute lines. Rio and he were working on checking and repairing chutes. Ever since Rio had almost died when his chute malfunctioned last summer, he’d made it his personal mission to check every single pack the Donovan Brothers team used. Gia had saved his ass that day. As far as Mack could tell, the two of them had spent the rest of the year trading rescues. It wasn’t a bad way to do things. He had her back; she had his.

  Rio’s phone buzzed and he set the chute back on the table. It must have been a good text, because his lips curled up in a smile. Since the smile wasn’t the goofy grin the man got when his wife texted him but was still soft around the edges, Mack was betting on a sister-in-law.

  “The ladies have been busy,” Rio announced. He sounded unsurprised.

  “That so?” Mack checked his seam. Nice and straight.

  Rio snorted. “They’ve decided they need to throw Gia a surprise baby shower. You think she’d want to be surprised like that?”

  “Do I look like I know what your wife likes? If I did, she’d be married to me.”

  Rio grinned. “You snooze, you lose.”

  “Yeah. Like she would have chosen me over you.” Gia Donovan was one hell of a woman. She was strong inside and out, exactly the kind of teammate he wanted at his back. She was beautiful, too, in her own way. Not that he was looking or anything, but he’d always been glad that there was no chemistry between them because jonesing for a teammate was usually a recipe for disaster. Somehow, Gia and Rio had made it work and he was glad for them.

  “Gia’s got good taste.”

  Rio grinned as Mack flashed him the bird.

  “Mimi’s hosting,” Rio said. “Didn’t see that one coming.”

  “Gia and Mimi get along just fine,” Mack said carefully, because there was no point in falling over the elephant in the room. Rio and Mimi had been lovers briefly, before Rio had fallen for Gia. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but it was in the past and that likely made it none of his damned business. He also couldn’t imagine Mimi hosting a baby shower in the first place. It wasn’t that she was anti-social, but she tended to be more of a guy’s girl.

  “They’re not besties.” Rio watched him. Shit. He hadn’t tried to hide his wedding night exit with Mimi, but he hadn’t gone out of his way to advertise it, either. The intent look on Rio’s face said it all. Someone had seen and it had got back to Rio. Or Rio had been the one to see them leave. It didn’t matter, he decided.

  “Two girls. One guy. It’s either awkward or a fantasy.”

  Rio shook his head. “Mimi’s my past. Gia knows that.”

  “Then there’s no problem with Mimi loaning the girls the bar for the baby shower.” There. That sounded perfectly disinterested. He pulled the chute off the sewing machine just a bit harder than necessary though. Hearing about Rio and Mimi wasn’t his first choice.

  “Are you okay with it?”

  Mack didn’t think the it in question was the friendship or lack thereof between Gia and Mimi. He had no idea how he was supposed to deal with the fact that one of his best friends had slept with Mimi first. That wasn’t quite it, though. No, the problem wasn’t the order—first, second or last. It was that Rio had known her intimately at all. Worse, Mimi had broken her own one night only rule for the man. Something about Rio had intrigued her enough to make her go back for more.

  Once had apparently been enough for them.

  No.

  For Mimi.

  Because he wanted more. More Mimi, more time. More of anything she’d give him. He wouldn’t mind if what she’d shared with Rio had been just sex. She was a grown woman and he hadn’t met her first. They’d both done things that they needed to let go. But he wouldn’t kid himself. He’d tried the just sex thing with other women and whatever he and Mimi had—it was more. Call it a connection, a feeling, or any other headline from fucking Cosmo, but she could be his one.

  And she was bad news, a wild child to the core, more interested in quick, hot pleasure and moving on than in playing for keeps. He definitely knew how to pick them.

  “I saw you leave the reception,” Rio said quietly. “Maybe it was just a wedding hook-up, in which case, no worries. If you made Mimi happy, I’m not getting in the middle of that. You should know, though, that Mimi’s not one to think in the long-term.”

  “Who else knows?” He didn’t want Mimi feeling awkward or getting blindsided in the bar. The jump team would know to keep their knowledge on the down low, but others might not feel the same way.

  “I didn’t broadcast it.” Rio gave him a pointed look. “It wasn’t my business.”

  “Okay.” Play it off, he told himself. Don’t make a big deal out of this.

  Rio nodded. “She likes to keep things to one night.”

  Mack’s mouth opened and the words came out before he could quite think things through. “You had more than one night with her. How’d you make that happen?”

  “You going to haul off and hit me?”

  Mack thought about it for a moment. “Probably not.”

  “I asked for one more. Not one week or one month or one summer. Just one more.”

  Uh-huh
. That was one strategy.

  Rio hesitated. “Mimi’s a good woman. She’s got a kink in her head about long-term and she’s definitely not looking for happily ever after.”

  “Then I’m just going to have to change her mind, aren’t I?”

  “You got a plan?”

  “I will.”

  Mimi Hart was a keeper—she just didn’t know it yet.

  Chapter Five

  At midnight, Mimi bellowed for last call, but the crowd in Ma’s was already winding down. All she had left now were a couple of the paramedics line dancing to Lee Brice on the jukebox. Laura Carpenter whooped it up in the middle of them, doing some kind of Miley Cyrus-worthy bump and grind that had absolutely nothing to do with the country tune belting out of the juke box, but that definitely put smiles on her guys’ faces. Mimi had no idea what the hell what was going on there. They could be getting up to some kinky shit for all she knew. Or maybe she was just projecting. On the other hand, when she saw the way Abbie Donegan was wrapped around her new husband in the corner, clearly oblivious to the dancing and drinking, she knew she didn’t have that either.

  Mack was driving her crazy. As always, he looked sexy as hell without making an effort, the white T-shirt beneath the button-up shirt he’d undone four hours ago pulling against his muscled chest as he slung drinks. His faded blue jeans were white around the seams, hugging his butt and his thighs. And his steel-toes… Lord knew, what those steel-toes did to her should be illegal. Maybe she could convince him to wear just the boots to bed.

  No.

  Bad libido.

  She’d had her night with Mack and anything more was just begging for trouble. She didn’t need a man who made her scream and yell in bed, because then she’d need him and he’d go like they always did. Yeah. She was a fount of positivity tonight. Her head didn’t want to let go of the good memories, though, and every time she brushed against him in the bar’s small space, she remembered. Damn it.

  He certainly didn’t act like he was lost in fantasyland. He slung drinks with the same competent air with which he tackled everything. The first time he’d stepped behind her bar four months ago, she’d issued him an immediate what the fuck? He hadn’t bartended before, so why should she let him cut his teeth on her bar? She’d demanded he get out of her space. He’d demanded she give him a chance. Turned out, he’d read an encyclopedia-sized recipe book. The man could make cocktails she’d never heard of. Obscenely delicious—and obscenely named—drinks. He’d served up Slippery Nipples, All Night Longs, and After Sex until she’d agreed he could have his shot behind her bar.

  Somehow, since then, he’d become a Friday night fixture. Of course, since he’d started the drinking game (not that he ever drank much more than a beer that she’d seen), she’d had to up her own game. Tonight’s creation ought to put her in the winner’s circle. When she slid a glass toward him, his hand closed around it automatically and he looked down at the lemon-yellow drink. He always paid attention to anything she did.

  “Nice,” he drawled and flicked the star that she’d cut out of a lemon and stuck on the rim. For added bonus points, she’d stuck a spear of red cherries and pineapple chunks in the glass as well.

  “The Twinkle Twinkle, with a side of bonus fruit because you can’t have too much vitamin C.” She made a drink up gesture. Mack might be a beer man, but he could take one for the team. “I’m researching for the Event That Shall Not Be Named.”

  Mack took an eensy-weensy exploratory sip (wuss) and shuddered. He’d never liked sweet.

  “No?” She took the glass back from him and tried it. She’d had worse. The cocktail definitely erred on the side of sweet and probably packed a thousand grams of sugar.

  “What is it?” he rasped.

  Yeah, that was definitely a no vote from the male contingent. “Pineapple juice, grapefruit juice, coconut milk and cream. Plus, for those of us not sporting a baby bump, rum.” She shoved the glass back at him. “Try it again.”

  He gave her a look. “I don’t recall volunteering to be your guinea pig.”

  She shrugged. “You were the one who said I needed help. I’m just taking you up on your offer.”

  “I’m not drinking that,” he said, but that small smile of his was curling the corners of his mouth. He didn’t mind.

  “Waste not, want not?” she suggested, eying the glass. It seemed a shame to dump all that alcohol.

  “Not a chance.” He folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the bar. “You want it drunk, you drink it.”

  “I have his and her cocktail stirrers too.” She dumped a pile of cocktail stirrers with pink and blue flags onto the counter. “You apparently vote boy or girl by sticking one in your drink. I had no idea baby showers were so complicated.”

  “Or we could wait another eight weeks and find out for ourselves,” he pointed out.

  “You’re no fun, Mack Johnson.”

  “I’m plenty of fun.” Something heated and darkly masculine flashed in his eyes. Maybe Mack had memories of his own after all. Dial it back.

  “Then you’ll love the Something Blue.” She mixed him another drink that he wouldn’t actually drink, keeping half an eye on the bar as the last stragglers stood up and headed for the door. Laura waggled her car keys at her, blowing her a kiss. Good. The paramedics had themselves a designated driver and wouldn’t have to pull themselves out of a ditch somewhere. She and Mack would have the place to themselves soon. “White wine, ginger ale, and a little French liquor because anything French must be good—just ask Katie Lawson.”

  Katie had been practicing her French for months now and Mimi had had to stock champagne in single-serve bottles for her. Mack sniffed the drink she handed him, shook his head and opted instead to swipe a cold beer from the case below the counter.

  “I’ll pass.” He popped the top on his bottle and tilted it toward her in a silent Cheers. “Unless you’re trying to tell me that you have plans for a wedding night?”

  “With you?” she scoffed. Wow. The bolt of heat that went through her had to be illegal. Maybe the Twinkle Twinkle packed more of an alcoholic punch than she’d realized.

  “I could be tempted.” He gave her a slow smile. “Since you proposed so nicely.”

  She didn’t do virginal or white. Or second chances, long-term relationships, or strings. Since having a deep, soul-searching moment in her bar wasn’t her first choice, she opted instead to go over and lock the door. Usually, she didn’t bother until she was on her way out, but the sedan-that-was-actually-a-truck-backfiring earlier today had made her jumpy.

  “New safety precautions?” There was no slipping anything past Mack.

  “No point in taking chances,” she countered.

  He shot her an incredulous look. Too bad she’d turned around and couldn’t pretend she’d missed it. “You live to take chances.”

  “Maybe I’m finally growing up. Settling down.” She settled into her closing routine, wiping down the counters and loading the dishwasher with dirty glassware. Since it was a weekday and slow, she hadn’t brought in either of her two part-time girls to help. There was just enough work for one.

  “Something’s up.” Mack kept pace with her as she cleaned, lining up the hooch bottles with military precision. And in alphabetical order. She didn’t answer while she cleaned out the register and dropped the cash into a zippered pouch. She’d count it tomorrow; right now, all she wanted was to get out of here. She needed to go somewhere.

  “Why do you always have to believe that there’s something up?” She made air quotes and zipped the pouch viciously. Mack had an annoying habit of being right that she hadn’t been able to break him of yet.

  She thought about that while she ducked into the back office and deposited the cash pouch in the safe. Unfortunately, no brainstorms or bright ideas occurred to her before she made the return trip to the front. Hell, she didn’t even have any stupid ideas. Her head was a complete blank. She certainly hadn’t told him about the car that slowed
down and he’d already been on her case about taking independence too far and insisting on taking care of herself.

  “You can walk right on out that door.” She jerked a thumb toward the door.

  “Uh-huh,” he said.

  Was that a yes? A nope, I’m sticking, thanks? She glared at him. “You should come with an owner’s manual.”

  “You interested in owning me?”

  Good question. “I’m interested in figuring you out.”

  “That’s something,” he agreed. “And I’m not going anywhere, boo.”

  And, once again… she had no idea what he meant. He’d be around to make sure she locked up safely tonight? He’d be back tomorrow night? What?

  “I’ve got a plan,” he confided.

  “Do tell,” she drawled. The look in his eyes was positively wicked. She shouldn’t be encouraging him.

  “You’ve got all these rules about not having rules, but then you tell me you only do one night stands. You don’t stick. You run.”

  Nope. She definitely didn’t like the direction this conversation was headed in.

  “Really,” she said, her voice cool. He didn’t get to push her buttons, not tonight.

  “A man can come in handy,” he growled.

  She laughed. “That’s the oldest one in the books, Mack. I’m not falling for that.”

  “You want to play show and tell?” He took a step forward, pinning her between his big body and the bar in what just might be her new favorite position.

  “Back off,” she snapped. Give Mack an inch and he’d take a mile.

  Take. Yeah, she wanted him to do plenty of taking. Damn it.

  His slow smile was all male testosterone. “Make me.”

  He didn’t wait for to respond. Hell, he didn’t give her the chance. Mack simply took charge, curling his hands around her waist and boosting her butt effortlessly up onto the counter. Another time, she might have been flattered (God knew she wasn’t a small woman). Another time she might have even registered a complaint that planting her butt where she cut up fruit and slung drinks wasn’t sanitary, but right now she didn’t give a damn. He stepped toward her, pushing her legs open with his hands.