Fully Ignited (Boston Fire #3)

by Shannon Stacey

  “What did you think?” she asked.

  He looked over at her, smiling at the smudge of pudding at the corner of her mouth before she wiped it away with the tip of her finger. They were sitting up against her headboard, each with an empty bowl of pudding and, even though she’d pulled the sheet up over her breasts when she sat up, everything was pretty damn perfect.

  “It was as good as you said it was. I don’t know if I should start stopping at that market to get my own, or if I should find a new way to the rink so I’m not tempted by it.”

  “Tell me about it. It’s just around the corner from me, so I have to depend on willpower.” She took his bowl and set them on her nightstand before wiggling back down so her head was on her pillow. “I think you being naked in my bed says everything about how strong my willpower game is.”

  “You’re the first woman who’s ever given me chocolate pudding after sex. You do realize you might not get rid of me now.”

  She laughed. “That pudding was supposed be my reward for making it an entire week without having sex with you.”

  “You almost made it.” He moved down on the bed and then rolled onto his side, propping his head on his hand so he could see her face. “What was your two-week reward going to be?”

  “A Ferrari? I don’t know, and I think the fact I can’t think of anything says a lot about my faith in my ability to resist you.”

  “And that was with me deliberately trying to leave you alone.”

  “Which just made you even more attractive to me, by the way.”

  “So tell me something,” he said, running his fingertip over her collarbone. “What made you want to be a firefighter?”

  “You would think with all the times I’ve been asked that over the years, that I would have an easy answer for that question.”

  “Do you have family in the fire service?”

  “Nobody. My dad sells insurance and my mom owns a hair salon. One of my sisters works with her and will probably take over when my mom retires. My other sister teaches fourth grade. Both married with kids and all that. Then, when I was in middle school, we had a career day.”

  “Ah, yes. I’ve gotten sucked into doing a few of those. They’re usually pretty fun, though, because let’s face it, we have the coolest job. Maybe I’ll do a few more of them if they actually work on kids.”

  “Actually, the guy who did it pissed me off.”

  “Really? You became a firefighter because the guy who did career day when you were a kid pissed you off?”

  “Basically, yeah. He had this exciting presentation and he made it sound awesome, but he only talked to the boys. He talked about how real men took care of their communities with no thought to their own safety and—”

  She paused when Scott snorted in derision. “Sorry, but sometimes it seems like all we think about is our own safety.”

  “Yeah, but preteen boys wouldn’t find endless training classes and inspections exciting. So anyway, once he was done with his grandstanding, he was like, ‘Oh, yeah, there’s stuff for girls, too, like working in dispatch,’ and his entire tone changed when he said it. I raised my hand and told him women can be firefighters, too.”

  “Of course you did.” He tried to imagine a much younger version of her, and didn’t doubt that even then, she wouldn’t hesitate to set him straight. “I’m almost afraid to ask what he said.”

  “He said, ‘But not good ones.’”

  “Oh, ouch. So you’ve worked your ass off your entire life just to prove some sexist douche bag wrong?” When she blushed, he laughed. “That’s one hell of a stubborn streak. I’m impressed.”

  Jamie slapped his shoulder. “It started out that way, yes. But the first time I went on a real call, I knew I was on the right road for me.”

  “Were you ever assigned to that guy’s company? You said it was a small town.”

  “No. I would have been, but he was fired and sued for sexual harassment the year before I signed on.” She smiled up at him. “Why did you become a firefighter? Because of Tommy?”

  “Yeah, there’s Tommy. And my grandfather. His father. I’m the sixth generation of Boston Fire in my family, so I’m not sure I even paid attention at career day. I remember back when my mom was alive and my dad was talking about his day, he’d think of some cautionary tale and say ‘Someday when you’re on the job, son...’ and tell me what went wrong so it wouldn’t happen to me. Nobody ever questioned that I’d follow in his footsteps.”

  “How old were you when your mom died? If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “I was nine. Lydia was thirteen and Ashley was fourteen. They alternated between overmothering me to compensate and writing me off as too much like my dad to bother with. He threw himself into the job and, as soon as I was old enough, I did the same.”

  “Do you ever resent it?”

  “Resent what?”

  “That your life’s path was some kind of foregone conclusion. It seems like you were destined from birth to be a firefighter. What if you wanted to build houses or work with computers or be a chef or something?”

  He had to think about it for a minute because he couldn’t remember anybody ever asking him that before. “Well, I didn’t resent it before, but now that you mention it...”

  She laughed, which made her breasts jiggle a little under the thin sheet. “I’m being serious.”

  “There have been times I resented my dad’s job. It made my mom unhappy a lot and I don’t think they would have stayed married much longer if she hadn’t been diagnosed with breast cancer. But I never wanted to be anything but a firefighter. Even when I was little, I’d see a fire truck go by and feel a rush of pride. That was going to be me. They’d be my brothers and I’d take care of my neighbors just like my dad did. Like Fitz and my gramps. I guess being a firefighter isn’t what I am. It’s who I am.”

  “I get that,” she said, and he knew it was the truth. Nobody would put in the amount of dedication and hard work it took to go from some small-town volunteer gig to being a Boston Fire lieutenant as young as she was unless it was a calling.

  “Hey, how old are you?” he asked before his brain’s filter could stop him and come up with a better way to phrase the question.

  She arched an eyebrow at him. “Really?”

  “Yeah, that wasn’t very smooth. If it helps, I was thinking about how hard you must have worked to make lieutenant at a young age, and that made me realize I don’t know how old you actually are.”

  “That does make me feel better, I have to admit. And I’m thirty-four.” She winced. “Of course I already know you’re only twenty-seven since I’m privy to more info about you than you are about me.”

  “That’s not fair.” He hooked his finger on the sheet and gave it a little tug. “Thirty-four is an incredibly sexy age.”

  “Lighting must be good,” she said.

  “The lighting isn’t what’s good.” He lowered his mouth to her breast, nipping at her nipple before running his tongue over it.

  She laughed and slid her arms around his waist, pulling him on top of her. They made love again, and he savored every minute of it. He loved the way she felt and tasted, and the way she unabashedly enjoyed his touch. Jamie was eye contact and naughty smiles and soft moans. With her sex was more than a primal urge to reach orgasm. It was something fun and yet intense they were doing together, exploring each other’s bodies and finding those spots that amped up the pleasure, and he never wanted it to end.

  When they finally collapsed on the pillows, panting and flushed and totally wrung out, he landed flat on his back and tried to catch his breath. He wanted to say something to her—something that let her know she was exceptional and how much she blew him away—but everything that ran through his mind sounded incredibly corny so he kept his mouth shut. He wrapped the condom in a tissue before
dropping it in the basket under her nightstand, and then he rolled to face her.

  Jamie’s eyes were closed, but she must have felt the motion because she moved closer to him, so her arm and the length of her leg pressed against him. He kissed her, and then dropped his head back to the pillow. It didn’t take long, though, for his body to relax to the point he knew he’d be nodding off. Already, Jamie’s eyes were closed and her breathing was slowing as she drifted in and out.

  “I really should go,” he said, without much enthusiasm.

  She opened her eyes and shifted her head so she could see him. “Or you could stay.”

  “I want to.” She had no idea how much he wanted to. “But don’t forget we’re having dinner with my entire family tomorrow.”

  “Oh, yeah. I guess that just got a lot more complicated.”

  “And if I don’t go home, my dad’s the kind of tone-deaf guy who won’t think anything of asking me where I spent the night while we’re all sitting at the table.”

  “We really don’t want that,” she said, though she didn’t do a good job of hiding how amusing she found the visual as she leaned over the side of the bed and snagged her sweatshirt off the floor.

  While he got dressed, she carried the pudding bowls to the sink and rinsed them, and he watched her as she tossed the empty container in the trash. He kind of liked this all-one-room thing, although watching sports while somebody was trying to sleep wouldn’t work out very well.

  He took his time, but he only wore so many clothes, so the time to leave came too soon. She looked so inviting, wearing nothing but the long sweatshirt, with her hair free and tousled. When she slid her hands up over his abs to his chest and kissed him, he sighed.

  She sighed and reached up to smooth the hair over his ear. “Just so we’re on the same page, doing what they speculate we’re doing doesn’t mean I want to confirm the rumors. Gossip is one thing, but I’m really not supposed to be sleeping with you.”

  “It’s nobody’s business but ours.” Before he left, though, he needed to know where her head was, as far as the whole sleeping-together thing. “So do you think we’ll be breaking that rule again, or is there a chance you’re going to wake up tomorrow and decide you made a mistake and we should pretend this never happened?”

  “Oh, there’s no way in hell I can pretend this never happened,” she said. “And I intend to break rules with you whenever we have an opportunity. Since my time here has an expiration date, we can keep each other company until I move on and you go back to looking for your television wife.”

  “Oh, for the love of...” Sometimes the guys could be real pains in the ass. “You heard about that?”

  “Of course I did.”

  “They’re exaggerating for their own amusement.” He winked at her. “Even I know you don’t wear pearls with aprons anymore.”

  She laughed as they walked to the door, and he tried not to think about how much he didn’t want to leave. In the past, sometimes he’d stay over and sometimes he’d leave, but it was always about convenience or whatever vibe the woman was giving off. It hadn’t mattered to him one way or the other.

  But he didn’t want to leave Jamie. Over her shoulder he could see the bed with its messed-up covers, and he wanted to take her by the hand and lead her back there. He could wrap his body around hers and fall asleep with his face buried in her hair, and then kiss her awake in the morning.

  “Aidan gave me directions to your dad’s house. Well, your house, too, I guess. So I’ll be there at five.”

  “I’ll see you then. The door at the bottom of the stairs will lock behind me, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  He kissed her, breaking it off before it could tempt either of them into going back to bed, and then put on his sweatshirt and picked up his hockey bag. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Good night, Scott.”

  He was halfway down the stairs when it hit him how much he liked hearing her say his name. Scott. He wasn’t sure if it was a Boston thing or a guy thing, but everybody loved to tack the ee sound on the end of any name they could, and he’d been called Scotty by almost everybody for his entire life.

  The guys at the station did, but she hadn’t fallen into using it, and he liked that. Maybe it was because he was trying to leave his old ways behind him—the merry-go-round of girlfriends and his temper—or maybe it was because it made her different, but he hoped she didn’t stop.

  Once he’d reached his apartment, he spent almost an hour picking up clutter. It was late and he should already be in bed. And there was almost no chance he’d come up with a plausible excuse for getting Jamie upstairs alone for even a few minutes, but he wanted the place to look decent just in case.

  When he did finally lie down, he didn’t sleep right away. Instead he stared at the ceiling, wishing Jamie was next to him instead of empty bed.

  * * *

  JAMIE HAD NEVER felt less ready for anything in her life than she did for having supper at the Kincaid house. Sitting down at a table, so soon after they had sex she’d rather everybody not know about, with the five people who could probably read Scott better than anybody else, probably wasn’t the best timing ever.

  But at two minutes before five, she walked up the steps of the deep front porch and knocked on Tommy’s door. She was carrying a plastic container of store-bought assorted fruit pastries because she’d been raised to not show up as a dinner guest empty-handed. Unfortunately, she had no idea what they were having for dinner, so she wasn’t sure what to bring to complement it. Bringing wine to the home of a guy who owned a bar didn’t make a lot of sense to her. And her mother had once told her that bringing a fancy dessert was rude because it presumed there would actually be a dessert course.

  Running short on time and patience, she’d finally grabbed the pastries. Pastries were flexible. They could be dessert, but they could also be an appetizer. Hell, Tommy could eat them all for breakfast the next morning for all she cared. She needed to bring something and they were handy. Now that she was standing on the porch, though, they seemed woefully inadequate.

  Lydia answered the door, a smile on her face. “Hi, Jamie. Come on in. Did you have any trouble finding the house?”

  “Not at all. Aidan’s directions were perfect. And I suspect I could have knocked on any door and said I was looking for your dad and I would have been pointed in the right direction.”

  She laughed. “You’re totally right.”

  Jamie held up the container from the market. “I brought some fruit pastries. They’re store-bought, but trust me when I tell you it’s better than if I’d made them myself.”

  “Those look delicious.” Lydia took the box. “And I’m glad they’re store-bought. If the guys start getting a taste for real homemade stuff...well, let’s just say I don’t want the bar set too high.”

  They were laughing together when they walked inside, and Jamie realized the front door led straight into the living room. The entire family stopped talking and looked when they entered. Of course her gaze went immediately to Scott and she returned the smile he gave her.

  “Hey, Jamie.”

  “Hi,” she replied, and then she tore her gaze away from him even though she could have happily looked at him for hours. Then she said hi to Aidan, who emerged from the kitchen long enough to wave to her.

  “I’d stay and visit, but I’ve been assigned to lettuce shredding duty for the salad,” he said before disappearing back into the kitchen.

  A man who was obviously Scott’s dad stood and walked toward her. “I’m Tommy Kincaid. Welcome to my home.”

  He was a big man and Jamie guessed that, even though he was going soft around the middle, he was probably still as strong as an ox. Most of Scott’s looks had come from his dad, she saw, though Tommy’s hair was mostly gray. “Thank you for inviting me.”

 
“I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  She smiled. “Probably almost as much as I’ve heard about you.”

  “This is Ashley,” Lydia said, and Jamie shook Scott’s oldest sister’s hand. Ashley had the same dark hair, though slightly lighter than Scott and Lydia’s, and she was shorter, too. Probably took more after their mom. “And you’ve met Danny.”

  “Nice to see you again, Jamie. How’s it going?”

  “Pretty well, I think.”

  He smiled. “That’s what I’ve heard.”

  She had no doubt he got daily updates. Not so much through any official channels, but from the other guys at the station and particularly from Scott and Aidan.

  “We’re going to eat in a few minutes,” Ashley said. “I made a lasagna, but if you don’t like that, I can whip up something else on the side.”

  “Who doesn’t love lasagna?” Jamie replied.

  “I knew I was going to like you,” Tommy said.

  The entire time, Jamie was keenly aware of Scott’s presence in the room, so she actually jumped a little when she heard his voice. “How come you’ll whip her up something on the side, but if I don’t like something, I have to make a bologna sandwich?”

  “Because you’re a pain in the ass.”

  Tommy waved a hand at the couch. “Sit down, Jamie. Do you watch sports?”

  “I’m not a big sports fan,” she admitted, and she wasn’t surprised when he frowned at her. “The guys have been trying to explain hockey to me, though, and I do own a Boston Bruins sweatshirt.”

  “Good enough. How long have you been in Boston?”

  She had to think about it. “Almost two years, I guess. It doesn’t feel like that long.”

  “Hell, you must be about ready to drive the truck.”

  “No,” she and Scott said at the same time, and he chuckled.

  “Oh, come on,” Tommy said. “Boston’s a fun place to drive.”

  “She finally stopped screaming when I make left turns,” Scott said, winking at her.

  She laughed, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t be able to hear the tires squealing over the sound of the sirens.”