by Anne Marsh
“I’ll make that call,” she growled.
***
By three a.m., Mack had given up on actually sleeping. Since the mountain (also known as Mountain Mimi) wouldn’t come to Mohammed, he’d swung by her place to check on her. He’d sent her a quick text heads-up that he was on his way, but he’d been late himself. Jack had pushed the jump team hard and he suspected they’d be flying all too soon. The weather was already dry and the teams in the southern part of the state were hard at work. It was possible they’d be called down there to help out. It was good to have work, something to focus on, but he didn’t want to be leaving Mimi now. She had to be the most stubborn woman he’d ever met. How satisfying would it be to get her to open up some and trust him? To let him in?
So far, he hadn’t made it past her couch.
Since she’d been out, he’d decided to wait for her. And wait… and wait. She hadn’t come home. By one a.m., he’d mentally rehearsed a half-dozen conversations. By two a.m., he’d been worried. Now, he didn’t know if he wanted to kiss or kill her. Maybe both.
Before he’d met Mimi, it had been a long time since he crashed on a couch. He’d forgotten how uncomfortable it was. He had his head pressed against one of those stupid pillows with tassels. He didn’t think much of Auntie Belle’s decorating sense and the pillows definitely weren’t big enough to sleep on if you were bigger than the average toddler. Her couch was also three feet too short for actual comfort, the cushions stiff and firm. He’d stripped down to a pair of sweatpants, more as a barrier against the way his body reacted to hers than because he was cold. The nights were still cool, but summer was coming, bringing with it the promise of heat. He was tangled up in the throw blanket he’d purloined from the back of the couch when his cell phone vibrated.
He bolted upright, scanning the area around him. The place was still and Mimi hadn’t magically appeared in the last five minutes. Given the layout of her place, there was no way he’d missed her.
The phone vibrated again and he swiped it off the floor and eyeballed the screen. It wasn’t Jack calling the team in, thank God, but the sheriff’s office also had no business calling him in the middle of the night.
“Johnson,” he answered, feeling the same mix of adrenaline and nerves he got right before he jumped out of the plane bay. Whatever bad thing had happened to merit a middle-of-the-night phone call, he’d just have to fix it.
“Mack?” Mimi didn’t sound anywhere near as sure of herself as she usually did. His imagination immediately supplied a thousand unfortunate images to go with the cautious tone in her voice.
“Jesus Christ.” Now he felt like he was in free fall. “You okay? Why are you at the sheriff’s office?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. He jackknifed to his feet, grabbing his boots as he cradled the phone between his shoulder and his ear. Socks he could pass on, but he needed a T-shirt. His wallet. Maybe a rescue party.
“You remember how you said I needed to learn how to ask for help?”
“Yeah,” he said gruffly, working the shirt over his head like a contortionist. The sheriff’s office was two streets over and less than a quarter of a mile away. Walking (or running) could be quicker than firing up his truck.
“I’m asking now,” she said quickly, not answering his original question. She was talking, so she wasn’t dead, but there were so many other possibilities.
“Tell me you’re okay.” He grabbed his keys and headed for the door. He’d made a copy of her house key, because he wasn’t going to wait by her door like a cat demanding to be let in. That was turning out to be a good thing. Given what had happened in her life recently, he didn’t like the idea of leaving the place unlocked.
“I’m not hurt,” she answered, which wasn’t much information at all. If she’d been injured, she’d have been calling him from the hospital down the mountain. “But…”
“You’d better just tell me. I’ll be there in five minutes,” he promised.
He was pretty sure she cursed. That was a good sign.
“Sheriff Hernandez arrested me.”
Mack suddenly had a whole new sympathy for the aunt who had raised him. She’d gotten more than one of these late night oops-I-fucked-up calls from him. Mentally, he ran over the contents of his wallet. Locked up wasn’t dead or hurt, so he could work with it.
“They take an ATM card?”
“Yeah,” she said, resignation and relief filling her voice. “They sure do.”
“Be right there,” he promised.
Chapter Ten
He was as good as his word, showing up less than ten minutes after she hung up.
He also didn’t say a word. Mack wasn’t much for yelling. Mimi had noticed that. If he had something to say, he said it, but he didn’t use ten words where one would do. His harsh fuck when he’d seen her perched on her jailhouse cot had summed it up.
There was another awkward moments when Mack settled her tab with the Motor Vehicle Department and the deputy sheriff gifted her with a few parting pieces of paperwork that she shoved into her jacket pocket. Mack, on the other hand, had pocketed a receipt. She thought about how he’d been the only person she could think of to call, but somehow it didn’t feel as bad as she’d expected. She wasn’t used to asking for help, but he was matter of fact about it, like there was no question about his coming and that was a first for her.
Of course, he also kept a hand on her elbow as she hightailed it out of the jail. She wasn’t sure if he expected her to start running or if his manners were just trapped in another century. It was okay, though. She kind of liked the warmth of his palm cupping her elbow, tugging her a little bit closer to his side. She certainly didn’t want to stick around, not even to see if and when Sheriff Hernandez caught up with Joey. Mack’s hand was firm, but not controlling. She knew he was there by her side.
As if she could forget.
He’d parked his truck right in front and he hadn’t even locked the doors, which was likely a first for him. She was too tired to tease him about the oversight, though, so she tried to keep right on walking. She had a date with her bed. She also had no idea how she was going to pay him back, but even she apparently drew the line somewhere and sex in exchange for cash favors was that place. She was going to bed alone. Not, she admitted to herself, that she really thought he’d ask for that kind of exchange. In fact, she was damned certain he’d be offended. Mack had the oddest scruples of any man she’d met and that was saying something.
His hand tightened on her elbow, gently towing her to a stop. “In the truck,” he said.
She snuck a peek at his face. He had on what she thought of as his smoke jumper face, slightly grim and all determined. He’d decided something needed doing and he was going to do it. Whatever. She was used to being someone else’s unpleasant task. She was tired though. The night had been an emotional rollercoaster. Of course, that was also her fault. But that was what she did, wasn’t it? She screwed with other people’s feelings and she made herself feel bad in the process. Mack had undoubtedly been asleep, minding his own business, until she’d called him and dragged him into the middle of another one of her messes. This one hadn’t even involved sex.
“Jesus.” He reached around her and yanked the door open. She got the feeling that if she took much longer getting into his truck that he’d simply lift her up and place her on the seat. Part of her wanted to make him do it, too. Forcing him to manhandle her would push his buttons, would make him not like himself.
She didn’t want to do that to him. He’d been nice to her. Plus, she was tired. The yawn that surprised her nearly cracked her jaw. Hopefully, his plans for her included a bed. Or at least a pillow. She’d go for the ride and see.
She climbed up into the seat, shoving his flannel out of the way. When she reached for the door handle, he beat her to it. They jockeyed for control for a moment, then he let go, the door slamming shut, to come around and get in the driver’s side.
“When the good deput
y said I was free to go, I don’t think he meant you got to kidnap me.” Another yawn spoiled her speech.
“I have to be up in two hours.” He put the truck in drive and hit the road.
“My place is over there,” she said when he didn’t pull in at the bar.
“Yep.” He didn’t sound concerned, although perhaps she should be.
Had he picked up speed? His hands on the wheel were sexy and sun-bronzed. Capable. Mack always handled everything life threw at him, including her.
Feeling difficult, she said, “I want to go home.”
This time, he took his eyes off the road and briefly and looked at her. “Too bad. We don’t always get what we want.”
And…take that.
There wasn’t all that much of Strong to see in the dark. The truck headlights carved out a path as they left the small cluster of buildings behind and headed out. Trees, trees and more trees. If you saw one, you’d seen them all. She flicked on the radio to fill the silence and settled on a country song about a good old boy missing the lady who left him.
“She probably had a dozen good reasons,” she observed after a few refrains.
“Who?”
She tapped the radio with her finger. “Lover boy’s AWOL wife.”
“You think?” Mack’s honeyed drawl said she wasn’t out of the woods yet. He slowed the truck and made a right, bumping them down over a dirt road.
“You planning on burying my body in the woods?”
He shook his head. “You’re safe with me.”
Too safe. Frankly, it was a new sensation for her, and she wasn’t sure how to handle it or if she even liked it. She definitely liked Mack, though, and that was a problem. Another unfamiliar feeling. Orgasms she could handle. The man himself? Not so much.
He finally pulled up in front of a charmingly dilapidated farmhouse. Despite the overall impression of rundown and about to cave in on itself, the porch sported a pair of wicker chairs and a swing. Twining geraniums and morning glory, the dark buds closed up tight for the night, covered up the worst of the damage and she could imagine sitting there on a sleepy, hot afternoon. The farmhouse wasn’t a big place and she didn’t recognize it, although she certainly hadn’t made an extensive survey of Strong’s outskirts.
“Your place?” She checked, just in case he’d decided the bury the body plan was his best option after all.
“Yeah.” He killed the motor and she debated sitting tight, but what was the point? Instead, she opened the door and hopped down. If she swayed a little, she also stuck the landing and caught herself. Her feet hurt and she definitely wanted her boots off in the near future.
Mack strode ahead, unlocked the door, and waited for her. “Come on.”
She sighed. Playtime was clearly over. It was time to pay the piper. She walked obediently toward him. “How can I resist?”
He didn’t say anything, just reached past her to flick on a light. He didn’t own a lot of furniture, but what was there was comfortable. The living room held an old leather couch she would kill to lie down on. There were several stacks of books, a floor lamp, and a big fireplace with a stone mantel. She spied a kitchen off one end of the room and a closed door that was likely Mack’s bedroom. Time to go on the offensive.
“Am I in time out? About to get a spanking?”
“Be serious,” he said gruffly.
His big hand rising and falling, tapping her bare butt… the unexpected images flashing through her overheated brain were also unexpectedly hot. She’d tried kinky stuff once or twice, but had decided kink wasn’t her thing. With Mack, though… maybe.
She wasn’t sure, however, she knew how to do serious. Mack, on the other hand, had it down all too well. Since he had bailed her out (and paid her tab with the DMV), she probably owed him a conversation.
He set his keys on the table by the door. “Are you okay?”
Wow. Those weren’t the three words she’d expected. She was used to what the hell were you thinking and you could have killed someone. She tried to get a good look at his face, to see if he’d give her any clue as to what he was thinking, but the room was mostly dark and his floor lamp wasn’t up to the job. All she could make out were his dark eyes examining her face. He was genuinely concerned, she decided. Angry, too, but that was only what she’d expected.
“Why did you bring me here?” She wanted to ask why do you want me here? But that just sounded needy.
Since she hadn’t moved from the door, he turned around and came back. She liked making him come to her far too much. Leaning in, he braced his hand on the wall by her head. Since she wasn’t moving (not that she had anywhere to go, with her butt pressed against his front door), the move put his hips perilously close to hers. She had to fight not to curl her fingers into the front of his T-shirt and pull all that warmth closer still.
“You’re trouble,” he said gently, like he’d just pulled the plug on any anger he might have felt. That was a nice trick and one she wished she could learn. His free hand curled around the side of her face, his thumb stroking.
“We already established that.” Damn it. Her voice sounded breathless.
“Yeah.” He leaned closer still, dropping his hand. His work-roughened palm skimmed over her arm, leaving goose bumps, until his fingers found her waist and tugged her forward. “You make me worry.”
He didn’t sound happy about that.
His body, however, clearly liked their new proximity. A very promising erection pressed into her.
“Thank you.” See? She had some manners.
“You want to tell me why?” He rested his forehead against hers, like they had forever and he wasn’t sporting an impressive erection. She was tired. She’d had a hell of a night, even if it had been every bit her fault. But her hands slid around his waist, reaching for him too. He didn’t seem to mind.
She bit her lip and stared at his collar, waiting for the perfect answer to magically pop into her head. Instead, she got distracted by the powerful column of his throat. He looked impossibly masculine in the navy blue firefighter T-shirt that reminded her he did things with his life, important things. She should let him get to bed because he had to get up and do crazy-ass things like jump out of planes to put out fires. She was selfish, though, so she wiggled against him, cradling his erection between her thighs.
“I—” don’t know how to answer that. Don’t have any magic words.
You, she wanted to say. I thought about you and what you make me feel scares me. So I ran.
And how was that plan working out for her now?
Since words were out, she ran her hands up his sides, over his shoulders and cupped his head to pull his mouth down to hers. When she kissed him, he made a rough sound, but the noise wasn’t one of surprise. Maybe he’d known where they were headed too. Maybe he’d even rescinded his no sex rule.
A gal could hope.
She pressed her mouth against his, rising up on tiptoes because, damn, he was tall. Even though her boots had three-inch heels, he towered over her. She went for him, kissing him with all the meaning she couldn’t find words for. An I’m sorry kiss, her lips rubbing, pressing, trying to take away the sting of walking out on him. A simple touch couldn’t be enough compensation, but he deepened their kiss, his mouth moving over hers, reminding her that some things worked out okay. And some things you couldn’t run from.
“Yes,” he rumbled into her mouth, promising things. She had no idea what, but she heard the promise and she liked it. She threaded her hands through his hair, loving how his hands fisted in hers. Kissing and kissing. All that connection she’d been running from and now here she was, right back in his arms, and clearly she’d decided to stop running. She was tired and hungry for him and damned if she knew if she wanted to jump him right there on the floor or crawl into bed and cry.
So she settled for breathing, loving how his rough breathing matched her own. Oh, this was so good and so wrong. So much trouble.
When, long minutes later, he lifted his h
ead, he didn’t take his hands off her. This close, she had nowhere to look but into his eyes. Mack had gorgeous eyes, dark brown with a hazel ring. There was heat in his eyes, a warm and sleepy desire, and something else… a something else that scared her.
“Marry me?” he asked.
The two shocking words hung in the air between them. She stared at him and he stared right back, like he was just daring her to say anything but yes.
“You land on your head on your last jump?” Her voice was too harsh, too loud, but what was she supposed to say? She wasn’t the kind of girl a man married and she’d worked damned hard to make sure of that. He didn’t mean it.
Say yes, a little voice whispered.
No.
“I don’t need you to bail me out of trouble,” she said.
“Marry me,” he repeated, and this time there was no question in his voice. It was all statement. Oh. Oh, no. He couldn’t be angry, could he? Anyone else would have started in on the yelling and the blame game. He’d just bailed her ass out of jail and paid an obscene amount for her speeding tickets. Riding her bike at a hundred miles an hour wasn’t safe. She knew that, even if it was precisely why she did it.
“Mimi?” He growled her name.
“You don’t want to marry me.” Say no and it would all be over. Laugh and walk away.
“Don’t ever tell me what I want.” His rough-tender words made something inside her melt and she didn’t melt for men. Ever.
“I’m not the marrying kind of girl,” she pointed out. Then, what the hell, she went for the kill shot. “I’ve slept with half the jump team.”
That wasn’t quite true, but she had slept with several of them.
“You had sex with them,” he said. “But the only man you’re sleeping with is me.”
“You slept on my couch.”
“Not anymore. I thought you should be the first to know.” The amusement was back in his voice as he scooped her up in his arms. She wasn’t a small woman, taller than many guys and no stick figure. He’d hurt himself or get out of breath and have to put her down. They’d both be embarrassed.