Fire Me Up

by Kimberly Kincaid

  “Yup.” Teagan snapped up the dog-eared master copy of the schematic and unfolded it with a flourish. “Carly’s restaurant manager, Gavin, and Shane were nice enough to run out to Bealetown to pick them up in Shane’s truck, and they’re on their way back now. We should have plenty of time to get the tents set up in the parking lot before it gets too dark, which will put us ahead of schedule. Then we can double-check the food prep for the morning, get the smokers set and ready to go, and everyone can get a little shut-eye.”

  In order to keep everything on a manageable timetable for setup, Teagan had made the executive decision to close the Double Shot for tonight’s dinner shift. While it might pinch a little to lose the income from a Friday night, the four of them needed to be game-on for this street fair, from right this moment until the last sandwich was served tomorrow.

  “Okay. Sounds good,” Brennan said, but his expression made him a liar.

  “What?” Teagan asked, her pulse flaring. “Is something wrong with the setup?”

  “No.” Brennan brushed a palm over the back of his neck before exhaling a heavy breath. “Nothing’s wrong with the setup. In fact, nothing’s wrong at all. Everything’s perfect. And that’s kind of the problem.”

  “I don’t understand,” Teagan said, unable to rein in a chirp of relieved laughter. “How is smooth sailing a problem?”

  “Because it’s too smooth. Look, don’t get me wrong, I want nothing more than for this street fair to work so your father can get the bar back to rights. But Lonnie’s given your old man an awfully wide berth for someone who owes him that much cabbage, especially now that time is running out. Doesn’t this feel a little bit off to you?”

  Frustration welled in Teagan’s throat, but she tamped it down. The last thing she needed was to get gruff-and-tumble with someone who was on her side.

  “No,” she said, absolutely firm. “Look, I’m not going to lie and say we didn’t get a little lucky that Lonnie kept his word about leaving us alone until the month was up, but that doesn’t mean anything’s wrong. Lonnie hasn’t made any other threats, and the only leverage he has over this place is what my father owes. He’s greedy, and he wants to get paid. Adrian feels sure that Lonnie will disappear once we pay him off, and I trust that.”

  “I know you do, but . . .” Brennan paused, as if he was choosing his words with the same care he’d use to handle a highly combustible substance. “When was the last time you really talked to him about it?”

  “Last week, I guess,” Teagan said, surprised to realize that she’d had so little time alone with Adrian lately that she couldn’t pinpoint the answer to Brennan’s question. “Why?”

  “Do you remember two days ago, when Adrian said he had a PT session?”

  What the hell did that have to do with anything? “Yeah. He’s getting his cast off in about a week, so the therapist wanted to take a look at his mobility.”

  Brennan’s voice went soft and deadly serious. “No, she didn’t, Teagan. He wasn’t there.”

  “E-excuse me?”

  “He wasn’t there,” Brennan repeated. “And he’s been acting kind of weird ever since then. I can’t put my finger on it, but he just seems . . . I don’t know. Almost detached. Are you sure you can trust him?”

  “Of course I can trust him,” Teagan said, finally finding her voice even though it was two octaves too high. “Jesus, Brennan! You went all the way to Riverside to check up on Adrian’s physical therapy just because you think he’s acting weird? We’re all supposed to be in this together.”

  “No, I . . .” Brennan winced, redirecting his words. “Look, I know you two are tight. I get it. But I’m your friend, and this place is my livelihood, too. I hope to hell I’m wrong, but my gut is telling me I’m not. Something’s not right here.”

  “Of course something’s not right,” she countered, her determination barging in and taking charge. “We’re all exhausted from trying to save the bar from Lonnie. But the solution to the problem is right in front of us, and we’ve planned it to the damned letter. The street fair is going to work, just as long as we all back each other up.”

  For a fraction of a second, Teagan’s rib cage tightened with the urge to protect what lay beneath it, her old, sewn-in defenses welling up like blood from a nasty scrape. Okay, so now that she had time to think about it, Adrian had been kind of off-kilter this week, but truly, with his parole officer still one foot out the door and the threat of paying off Lonnie literally days away, the stress was enough to rattle even the toughest person. Plus, planning and prep had taken up literally all of their waking hours for the last week straight. All four of them were harried as hell. So Adrian had clammed up a little and skipped a PT session. Big deal.

  He’d told her—no, he’d sworn to her—that they were in this together and that the street fair would take care of everything.

  And Teagan believed him. She had to.

  “Look.” She blew out the breath that had been plastered to her lungs, her chair squeaking roughly as she turned to face Brennan head-on. “We’re all spread pretty thin from the last few weeks, and Lonnie’s threats have everyone on edge. I know you’re worried, but we can’t afford to fall apart now. Not when we’re so close.”

  Brennan studied her for a minute that lasted a month, but finally, he said, “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m sure the Adrian thing is just a mix-up. I guess Lonnie’s got my imagination on overdrive.”

  “It’s okay,” Teagan said, relief spinning through her chest hard enough to make her a little dizzy. “Lonnie’s had us all pretty torqued up over the last couple of weeks.”

  She planted her boots into the threadbare carpet beneath the desk, unfolding her spine as straight as it would go before adding, “But in two days, we won’t have to worry about him ever again.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Adrian scrubbed the already-damp shoulder of his T-shirt over his brow in a half swipe, half shrug, losing the battle with the heat in the Double Shot’s kitchen. His movements felt slow, awkward, and clunky like a pair of steel-toed boots being run through a dryer, and he stopped to reset himself for the fortieth time this hour. The food was right in front of him, washed and prepped and ready to rumble. He should be able to make this happen from a coma, for Chrissake.

  He needed to get his shit together, like yesterday.

  “Hey,” Teagan said, appearing in the tile-rimmed alcove leading into the kitchen from the side door. “How’s it going in here? Your arm’s not hurting, is it?”

  All it took were those few sparse words as she moved to stand next to him at his workstation, and okay, yeah, now he could breathe deeply enough to make an impact. Because he only had a week left to go with the fiberglass nightmare on his arm, Teagan had reluctantly given in and agreed to let him cook for the street fair as much as the cast and his pain threshold would allow. While finding a groove was admittedly a little rough, Adrian couldn’t deny that he’d missed the electric high of having his hands on the food. Although he was limited in some aspects, for the most part he’d held his own. Except for the last hour or so, anyway.

  “Nope. Everything feels fine,” Adrian said, giving the double batch of coleslaw a showy one-handed flip in its stainless steel bowl to grand-slam the sentiment home. “How’s setup going outside?”

  Teagan brightened, even though her eyes showed the toll of the grueling workday. “The tents are almost all set up, which puts us ahead of schedule. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that Shane and Gavin stayed to help, although I did promise to feed them dinner for their trouble. Jesse and Brennan are working on putting together the smokers right now.” The corners of her mouth perked into a demi-smile. “Of course, I promised to feed them, too.”

  “Of course.” Damn, this woman was a natural in the kitchen. How had she fought it all this time? “There are some burgers left in the lowboy from last night’s service, and we can dish up some fries and a bit of this coleslaw to go with them. Should be plenty to go around.”

  �
�Great, thanks.” She moved to the hand-washing sink by the pass-through, tucking her chin over her shoulder to angle a shuttered glance at him as she cranked the faucet. For a second, Teagan said nothing, as if she was simply taking him in on the sly, but then her brow dipped down low over her troubled eyes, and man, Adrian couldn’t wait to erase the worry from her face forever.

  “You skipped lunch again, didn’t you?” he asked, teasing just enough to loosen the obvious triple knot in her shoulders.

  Bingo. A smile softened her strawberry-red mouth. “I might’ve. But Brennan and my father and I were swamped getting everything finalized with the brewery guys.” She paused, her hands going still beneath the stream of water rushing over them. “So you were here by yourself all morning, huh?”

  Adrian sent his mixing spoon through the jewel-toned coleslaw mixture in purposely even strokes, spinning the bowl over the countertop with surgical precision. “You guys were off-site, and Jesse was gone for a few hours picking up the smokers in Riverside,” he agreed, choosing his words with extreme care. Her expression didn’t sway.

  “I just haven’t had a chance to really talk to you lately, other than for work. I’m worried about you. I’m worried about all of this.”

  Adrian pulled up a tasting fork’s worth of coleslaw to plug it into his pie hole. But neither the bowl in his grasp nor the creamy-sharp perfection of what was in it could smooth out the sudden tilt in his gut.

  “We’re ahead of schedule, and we have a solid plan.” He dropped his hand to his hip, skimming it over the cell phone in his pocket before cutting a direct path to the sink. “Everything’s going to be fine.” Adrian stepped in to press a kiss to the back of her neck, and damn. Her shoulders were right back to Defcon Triple Knot.

  “I know,” she said, jacking her hands back into motion all at once. “I’ll just be happy on Sunday, when this is all over.”

  “Sunday?” he asked, his instinct snarling to life like a junkyard dog waking up from too short a nap.

  “Yeah. Apparently Lonnie likes his money fresh.” Teagan’s eye-roll outlined what little disdain her frown left open to interpretation. “He called my father about twenty minutes ago. They set up a meeting at the pool hall where Lonnie hangs out in Bealetown. Real classy establishment over on Hanover Street. Anyway, we’re supposed to meet him there on Sunday with the payoff.”

  “Hold on.” Fear and adrenaline skidded through Adrian in a big, fat cocktail of oh hell no. “You’re not going to meet Lonnie.”

  Teagan whipped around, tiny droplets of water arcing off her hands. “I just had this argument with my father, and I’ll tell you exactly what I told him. I’m standing by him no matter what. He’s not going to hand over that money alone.”

  Adrian grappled for a deep breath, doing his level best to keep his voice steady. “And I’ll second what I’m sure your father told you right back. Going with him to the exchange, especially on Lonnie’s turf, is a bad idea. Not to mention dangerous as hell.”

  Of course, Teagan didn’t even flinch. She turned to nail him with an amber glare. “The two of you can gang up on me if you want, but my going with him is the only possibility. Look, I don’t like making this payoff in unfamiliar territory either, but Lonnie wouldn’t budge. This is my father, Adrian. I’m not leaving him.”

  Shit. Shit. He couldn’t let this happen. He needed an alternative, and he needed it right fucking now. “Let me go instead. I’ll make sure he’s safe.”

  “No.” Teagan stepped in, bringing their bodies close enough to touch, and yet he felt the space between them hurtling outward like a giant chasm. “I know you’d keep him safe, I do. But you’ve only got a few weeks left on your parole. Waltzing in to a gun-running loan shark’s place of business to knowingly make an illegal transaction could land you back in jail faster than any of us can blink, and . . .” Now, her voice did hitch. “Just like I’m not going to lose my father, I’m not going to lose you, either.”

  Adrian hated himself. He really, really did. “You’re not going to lose me. Please.” The emotion behind the word grated and stung upon delivery, but he knew asking her like this was his last hope. “Just tell me when you’re meeting Lonnie on Sunday so I can go instead.”

  Teagan’s eyes were shot through with glittery tears, but the stalwart determination behind them punched holes in Adrian’s chest.

  “I’m sorry. But I can’t.”

  And she turned to walk out of the kitchen.

  Teagan sat with her back to the bricks on the Double Shot’s exterior, forearms draped over the propped-up knees of her jeans as she watched the morning dew illuminate the soft stretch of grass by the side of the building. Although it was still crack-of-dawn early, the mug of coffee at her side had long since gone cold, which was fitting, really, since Teagan felt the exact same way.

  She’d tighten her hoodie around her shoulders, maybe even zip the thing up to her chin, if she didn’t know beyond a doubt that a hundred hoodies wouldn’t do a damn bit of good.

  Teagan’s chill came from beneath her own skin.

  The hinges on the side door squalled briefly as they creaked into action, and a familiar footfall echoed in her ears.

  “Lost in thought there, pretty girl?” Teagan’s father asked, extending a fresh mug of steaming coffee in her direction.

  “A little, yeah.” She got to her feet, brushing her hands over her denim-encased hips before wrapping her fingers around the mug. “Is everything okay in the kitchen?”

  But her father waved off her concern. “Right as rain. Jesse and Adrian started that first round of pulled pork in the smokers last night, and they’re finishing it up in the indoor ovens right now. The next round is already in the smokers, lookin’ as good as it smells. The food is all set, love.”

  Teagan nodded, letting her eyes roam down the side lot toward the canopy tent strung over three stainless steel drums, all chugging out lazy streams of white smoke and perfuming the air with the woodsy scent of summertime barbecue. The other tents had been set up throughout the parking lot in methodical rows, streamlined to direct the flow of traffic yet guide everyone to the various concessions in a way that made each of them naturally accessible. With the food going to serving stations in several different tents, plus the two beer-tasting areas, the healthy handful of smaller refreshment stands, and the stage Carly’s husband, Jackson, had been able to build with a few guys from his contracting company for the live music, this street fair was a right-now reality that had the end of their problems well within sight.

  Now, if Teagan could only get the anvil off her chest, everything would be stellar. While her father had made it clear that he was less than thrilled with her decision to accompany him tomorrow no matter what, at least he was still speaking to her.

  Adrian? Not so much. Though he hadn’t gone the complete cold-shoulder route, things had been way more business than usual ever since she’d told him about tomorrow’s payoff.

  But even though his pulling away stung, she wasn’t about to budge.

  “Okay.” Teagan shook herself back to the present, taking a long draw from her mug and letting the bold, warm brew ride all the way to her belly. “I’ll go ahead and check in with Brennan to make sure Hunter’s on his way with those kegs.”

  “I take it back, ya know.”

  Her father’s words stopped her short on the pavement, and Teagan turned to serve him with a quizzical stare.

  “You take what back?”

  “You don’t always catch more flies with honey than vinegar. It was your hard work and grit that got us here.” He paused, nodding his auburn-gray head toward the avenues of crisp canopies and food stands. “I don’t know how ta thank you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Teagan said, too shocked to do anything other than stare. “You’re my father. Of course I’m going to stand by you no matter what.”

  Her father chuffed out a soft laugh, scattering the steam rising up from his coffee cup. “You are true ta form, I’ll give you that. Just l
ike your mother that way.”

  “I’m nothing like Mom.” The challenge was out before she could curb the words, and damn it, this really wasn’t how she wanted to start the day.

  But her father simply smiled. “Ah, but ya are. And I’m grateful. You get all your fire from her. It’s what I loved the most.”

  Was he kidding? “She left us when we needed her, Da. Aren’t you angry?”

  “Of course I’m angry, love.” His eyes flashed, brief and hard. “Your mother was no saint for what she did. But I loved her, and I can’t overlook the gift she gave me in you. You can think you’re nothing like her, and that’s all well and good. But whether ya like it or not, she shaped who ya are. I’ll always be grateful ta her for that.”

  Teagan opened her mouth, the argument hot on her tongue, but it stopped just short of delivery. Her father had made so many sacrifices, working as best he could to raise her on his own, and she’d always love him.

  But no matter how badly she burned to renounce anything that even whispered of Colette O’Malley, Teagan knew in that instant her father was right.

  In her own way, her mother had forged the bond between Teagan and her father. And though her leaving had hurt Teagan so much for so long, there really was no denying that it had strengthened that bond into the devotion the two of them shared. Teagan would’ve loved him no matter what. But part of why she cherished what they had so much was because of the way they had it—just Teagan and her father.

  Her mother really had shaped who she was. And it was time for Teagan to stop being afraid of that.

  “I love you, Da.” Teagan slid her arms around her father to rest her cheek on the soft flannel covering his shoulder, and the embrace chipped away at the cold that had wrapped so tightly around her just moments ago.

  “I love you too, pretty girl,” her father returned, his voice rough with emotion. “Tough as ya are.”