by Kim Loraine
His eyes locked onto hers and dropped to her lips. That spark, the one she’d longed for, ignited low in her belly. It was more than their verbal sparring matches, or the fact that he definitely fit the mold of a hot fireman. There was a connection between them, at least at this moment.
He looked away, clearing his throat and patting her on the back. “You’re right. You’ll be fine with a bandage and an ice pack. Do you have one?”
“One what?” she asked, slightly dazed.
“An ice pack.”
Shaking her head to clear the fog of lust she said, “Peas.”
A chuckle escaped him. “What?”
“Peas. I’ve got frozen peas.”
“Oh, that should do.”
Standing, she fought off a wave of attraction when his hand found the small of her back as he steadied her. “You can let me go now,” she forced out.
Stepping back, he nodded. “Goodnight, Lauren.”
With a nod, she whispered, “Alex.”
As soon as she got behind her door, she leaned up against it and closed her eyes, letting the memory of his eyes on her lips wash over her.
This was the last thing she needed. Another emotionally damaged man would not be the one to give her the undying love she craved.
Stripping out of her torn tights, she chose a thin tank and her unicorn leggings before flopping onto her bed. With a sigh, she rolled onto her belly, reached under the bed, and pulled out the shoebox of love letters. She needed a reminder of the kind of man she should be looking for. Something to distract her before Alex invaded her thoughts.
Chapter 5
Tears streamed down Lauren’s cheeks as she read the letter for the third time. This couldn’t be true. They were supposed to be happy. Instead, they were on the verge of breaking up. Rae and her husband shouldn’t be allowed to have so many tragedies in one short year. The last letter she’d read had been so hopeful, she’d been pregnant, they’d gotten a house—this house. Now, as she stared down at the words on the page, she felt betrayed.
Three babies.
Rae had lost three in the span of one year. How could she deal with that?
According to the letter, she hadn’t. The pain behind the words made Lauren’s heart hurt. His anguish was plain and clear. Rae had left him because she couldn’t take it anymore.
“No. It’s not fair,” she muttered, folding up the letter and shoving it in the box with an angry scowl on her face. “Is no one ever happy?”
Standing, she stretched and took the bag of peas, now thawed and dripping on her comforter, over to her small kitchen. Tossing the bag in the trash, she poured herself a Coke and watched the bubbles foam over the ice. With a sigh, she reached to the top of the refrigerator and blindly grabbed for the bottle of rum she’d stashed there when she’d moved in.
“Ah-ha! There you are, you son of a biscuit.” She carefully measured a one-ounce shot and added it to her cup, then took a sip. It was good, but not good enough to distract her from the memory of Alex’s eyes and the decimation of her favorite couple.
Turning on some music, she cast a cautious glance at her ceiling before shrugging and bumping up the volume a few more notches. It wasn’t late, and Alex could come down here and tell her if it bothered him. She danced alone in her little apartment, just her with her rum and Coke.
An hour later, the room was spinning slightly, but she felt better than she had in months. Somehow, the alcohol had taken away the ache in her arms and heart. A song she loved came on and she started singing along, dancing wildly even though her scraped knee burned with each movement.
Lungs heaving from exertion, she skipped to the kitchen to make herself another drink only to find the once almost-full rum bottle unfortunately empty. Disappointment tugged at her heart until she spotted her small exercise trampoline peeking out from behind the desk. Turning the music up louder, she pulled the trampoline into the center of the room and jumped on.
With every bounce, her heart lightened and her smile grew wider. It wasn’t long before she was laughing out loud.
In the silence between songs, she continued jumping, but sighed and moaned as her pulse hammered in her chest. “What the fuck are you doing down there?” Alex’s booming voice called through the ceiling.
“Shoot,” she muttered, turning down the music. “Sorry! I’ll keep it down.” Hoping she’d been loud enough, she put the trampoline away and rolled her head from side to side. Sweat trickled down her temples and the back of her neck.
Pulling at her clothes, she stumbled as her arms got caught in her thin sweater. “Argh!” She fell to the bed, squirming and yelling at her shirt. “Get off of me!”
Loud thumps sounded from upstairs as she continued to fight with her top. She’d managed to get it up to her shoulders, but the darn thing was twisted or, at the very least, had transformed into a straight-jacket. With a crash, her door flew open and she let out a yelp of surprise. Alex stood in her doorway, his eyes wild as he surveyed the situation.
“Are you okay? What’s happening?” His voice was hard and angry, but she could tell the emotion wasn’t directed at her.
“My shirt is attacking me.”
She continued to work the fabric over her head, now unable to see anything other than the deep purple fabric. Maybe this was what it felt like to be the guy in the Barney the dinosaur costume. The thought made her erupt into uncontrollable giggles.
“What are you laughing at?” Alex’s frustration was clear.
She kept laughing, until cool fingers brushed her arms and the shirt came free. His eyes blazed as his gaze roamed over her.
“I may have been drinking,” she admitted.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah?”
“Just a little.”
Peering into the kitchen, he chuckled. “The empty rum bottle on your counter says otherwise.”
Holding a finger to her lips, she shushed him. “My landlord is a real butthead. Stop being so loud.”
“I think it’ll be okay. He might even let you turn your music back on if you’re nice.”
Laying on her bed, she watched the walls spin and she giggled again as she hit Play on her remote. “Am I in my bra?”
“Yeah.” His voice was husky, but she didn’t dare look at him. A piece of fabric fell across her face. “Put that on.”
As she slipped her head through the shirt, she realized he’d grabbed her Boys are better in books sweater off the back of her desk chair. “Thanks,” she murmured, sitting up slowly.
He shoved a glass of water in her face and sat on the edge of the bed. “So . . . what in the world were you doing down here, by yourself?”
Frowning, she looked around. “What do you mean?”
“There was a lot of . . . uh, rhythmic squeaking. I thought maybe you weren’t alone.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “What? Oh, no, no. I was jumping on my trampoline.”
A laugh burst from him. “A trampoline?”
“Yeah. I use it for exercise. It’s fun.”
She finished the water and without asking, he grabbed the glass and walked to the kitchen.
“Wait a second. You thought I was down here with a guy, getting . . . frisky, and you decided to bust through my door?”
His hands went up in a defensive gesture. “Hey, you were yelling. I thought someone was hurting you.”
“I see. So . . . you were worried about me?”
“Well, I certainly don’t want you getting hurt under my roof.”
A smile spread across her lips. “You were worried. That means you don’t hate me. Oh, my gosh! You’re starting to be my friend.”
His lips twitched. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
Laying back on the bed, she let out a sigh. “I knew I’d win you ov
er.”
The music changed as they stayed together in silence, the song a soft acoustic ballad.
He surprised her when he said, “I like this band. This is Sounds of Cedar, right?”
“Yeah. I can’t believe you’ve heard them. My friend Angela knows them. Did you know the guy who writes the songs is deaf?”
“No shit?”
“Truth.”
He let out a soft hum of interest and leaned back across the bed next to her. “So, why don’t you swear?”
Laughing, she shook her head. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I probably will.”
Without thinking, she elbowed him. “I just think there are so many other ways to articulate ourselves.”
Turning her head, she looked across the blanket at him. A solemn expression covered his face. “Yes. But sometimes, nothing is better than a good fuck.”
~ ~ ~
The next morning as he left for his shift, Alex winced inwardly as he replayed his last conversation with Lauren in his head. What was his problem? First off, he’d had no business going over there, but the thought of some guy forcing himself on her had made all of his protective instincts come to life. Sure, the sounds he’d heard lined up perfectly with what he’d thought was happening. Her laughter, the creaking, the fact that she’d started grunting and groaning. Shit, he was getting hard just remembering the noises, and she hadn’t even been having sex. What would she sound like if she had been in the throes of an orgasm?
Shaking his head, he started his truck and pulled out of the driveway.
Stop thinking about her.
Stop.
He knew he wasn’t ready to even look at another woman. Roxie had been the only one for him since they’d first met at sixteen. Just because she’d thrown her life away, thrown him away, didn’t change the fact that she was it for him.
The medic unit was just pulling into the garage bay as he took the employee service road to the back of the station. Must’ve been a long night. He watched as the engine followed, the A-shift crew backing the monster into the garage with the ease that signified hours of practice.
“Hey, Tony. Tough shift?” he called as he walked in the back and watched Tony Spalding jump down from the driver’s seat of the engine.
“Fuck, man. Long ass shift. Nothing major, just a ton of calls.”
Nodding, he followed the crew into the house. He’d finally started feeling accepted back into the fold a week ago, but as was the custom, the phone rang and everyone stared at him, expecting him to race to answer it.
“I’m not a fucking probie,” he muttered before he picked up. “Golden Beach Fire Department, Firefighter Alex Oliver speaking.”
“Hi, there. Alex, this is Andrea Northman. I’m friends with your mama. I was hoping to get to talk to you. Do you remember me? I taught third grade . . . well, I still do, actually.”
“Yeah, Mrs. Northman, I remember. What can I help you with?” He might have been a bit curt, but if he remembered right, she hadn’t been a very nice teacher.
“I need to set up a tour for my class. Fire safety week is coming up real soon. Is that something I should do with you? Your mama said you’d help me.”
“Actually, you can set that up with the Battalion Chief. Just send him an e-mail and he can tell you when would be best.”
After rattling off the Chief’s e-mail address, he sighed when he heard her intake of breath. She had more to say, but all he wanted to do was get off the damn phone.
“We’re all so sorry about Roxie, Alex. She was such a good soul. I don’t understand why she’d do something like that. I’m glad you decided to come back here to heal.”
He could tell she was going to keep on spouting her useless words of support and his patience was wearing thin. “Thanks. The Chief will be in touch.”
Hanging up without giving her a chance to say anything else, he raked a hand through his hair and leaned his forehead against the cool cinderblock wall.
“You okay?” Donovan stood a few feet away, watching and assessing.
“Fine.”
“Man, you’re surly. I don’t remember you being so surly.”
“A lot has happened in the last five years, Miller.”
Nodding, Donovan crossed his arms over his chest. “Everybody’s fighting some kind of battle, Alex. Some of us wear it better than others, but don’t mistake a smile for happiness.”
The alarm rang before the conversation could go anywhere else, throwing the two of them into their jobs and saving him from the introspection Donovan’s words encouraged.
Chapter 6
Rae,
Happy birthday. Please come back. I miss you.
Always yours
Lauren let out a harsh breath as she closed the letter and forced herself to put the box away. She’d resisted the tragic love those letters held for the better part of a week, but as she’d continued to work on the outline for her novel, she couldn’t get them out of her head. She had to know if they’d gotten back together.
“I swear to God, Rae. If the rest of these letters are just him begging you to come back, I’m going to find you and smack you.”
Her phone rang as she pulled her jacket over her shoulders and grabbed her keys. Glancing at the clock, she sighed. She was going to be late for work if she didn’t get going.
Locking the door behind her, she slipped her phone out of her pocket and answered as she walked.
“Hello?”
“Lauren. It’s your mother.”
Wincing, she mentally slapped herself. Why hadn’t she recognized the stupid Michigan number?
“Hello, Mother.”
“Are you ready to admit you made a mistake with that police officer and come home?”
Anger blossomed in her chest. “No. This is where I want to be, Mother. I like it here.”
“Chassity says you’re a . . . a waitress.” The word came out sounding dirty.
“Yep. I love it.”
“Lauren, you’ve got a law degree from Harvard. What are you doing?”
“Anything else, Mother? I’m going to be late for work.”
The answering silence said it all. She’d been hung up on. As per usual, that’s how dear old Mom dealt with her flighty daughter. But darn it all, if it didn’t hurt just as bad every time it happened.
Hopping on her bicycle, she navigated the early morning traffic and let the chill of fall wash over her as the wind blew across her face, blowing her long hair back like a curtain in the breeze. As the big hill that led to The Oak Tree loomed in front of her, she smiled and pedaled hard. She’d not yet been able to make it to the top, but one day she’d get there. Her legs burned and at the halfway point she had to give up, walking her bike the rest of the way.
“Didn’t make it?” Roland stood outside smoking the last bit of a cigarette.
Shaking her head, she chuckled. “Nope. Not today.”
“You will.”
“Darn right.” She walked past him and opened the employee door. “You know those things will kill you.”
“That’s what they tell me.”
“Just doing my civic duty.”
His answering laugh followed her as she dropped her stuff off at her cubby. Heading in to the bathroom, she ran a brush through her windblown hair and touched up her makeup. When she was satisfied with what she saw in the mirror, she headed out to start her day.
The cafe stayed busy up until the last hour of her shift, keeping her thoughts away from the earlier conversation with her mother, away from Dean, and most of all, away from Alex. Her heart nearly beat out of her chest when she saw a couple of uniformed firefighters walk in. Listening intently as they spoke to Kayleen, she sagged in relief when it tur
ned out they were picking up a to-go order. That didn’t stop her from peeking out the window. She fought the urge to search for Alex as she surveyed the fire truck parked outside.
As the two men walked across the parking lot, the engine started and they both stood still, listening to their radios. Breaking into a run, they both jumped into the truck and the sirens and lights burst to life. They were down the hill, siren wailing, in less than a minute.
“Damn, now their food’s going to be cold,” Roland whined. “I hate it when my hard work goes to waste.”
“It’s not going to waste. It’ll still be good cold.”
“Sure, the French dip and stupid Kale salad will be fine. But the apple pancake is best when it’s still puffy and the steam hasn’t had a chance to escape. You know that.”
Her heart flipped at the mention of Alex’s usual. “Who orders an apple pancake for lunch?”
Shrugging, Roland winked at her. “We can’t all live on a diet of kale and sadness, sweetie.”
Letting out a long laugh, she leaned against Roland’s heavy shoulder. “Have I mentioned that you’re my favorite?”
“You have, but you can do it any time you want.”
~ ~ ~
Dean was hanging around the house—again. Alex peered out the curtains at the police cruiser parked conspicuously across the street. Did he think he needed to protect Lauren from him or something? Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen much of Dean in the last few weeks. Not since the night she’d gotten caught in her sweater. Damn it. The stupid sweater wouldn’t stay out of his head. Adjusting himself, he let out a sigh. Was this a test? Send him a hot-as-fuck neighbor and see how long it would be before he sullied his wife’s memory and gave in.
His chest tightened when he saw Lauren riding down the street on her bike, without a fucking helmet. They’d have to talk about that. Feeling like a peeping Tom, he couldn’t help but watch as she parked her bicycle and stalked across the street to Dean’s car. Her posture was all wrong for a woman who was seeing her boyfriend. Arms crossed protectively over her chest, feet planted firmly, she looked hostile. They argued, hands waving erratically, Dean’s face turning red as he spoke.