by Tawna Fenske
He’d watched her for nearly an hour before she’d spotted him at the bar, keeping his distance so she wouldn’t think he didn’t trust her to take care of herself.
And she had taken care of herself, giving those jerks the boot even though some were aggressive as hell. She’d handled herself with grace and steel and total badass confidence. It was one of the things he loved about her.
Loved like a friend, dammit. That’s all this was.
“Anything for you, sir?”
The waitress’s voice pulled him back to the menu in front of him. “I’m good, thanks.” He set the menu down and picked up his glass. “Maybe a little more club soda, but no rush.”
“Coming right up.” She threw a wink at Kayla. “You want two spoons with that crème brûlée?”
Kayla grinned at Tony. “I suppose I’ll share.”
The waitress laughed. “Make him earn that spoon, girlfriend.”
Still smiling, Kayla turned to him as the waitress hurried away. “We’ve bonded.”
“I can see that.”
“She’s been watching my back.”
He made a show of peering at the back of her dress, then wished he hadn’t. The fabric dipped low, almost to the top of her butt. God, she looked sexy.
“It’s a great back.” He croaked the words, which sounded a lot dorkier than they had in his head. “Can’t blame her for keeping an eye on it.”
“Thanks.” Kayla sipped her water and studied his face. “You okay? I forgot to ask how your boys’ night went the other night. Was the one tonight good?”
“Both were cool, but the one with my brother was better.”
Her brow furrowed. “Your brother? I thought you were meeting up with some other firefighters.”
Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that. This is what he got for ogling his ex-girlfriend’s naked flesh.
Tony cleared his throat. “My brother’s a Hotshot. We—uh—don’t see each other that much.”
Kayla opened her mouth like she wanted to say something. Then closed it again, nodding once. “You know I’ll give you time alone whenever you want it, right? I wouldn’t dream of tagging along if you didn’t want me to.”
“It’s not that.” God, what was it? Did he really want to go down this path? “It’s complicated.”
“Got it.” She sipped her water again. “You don’t have to tell me anything. Just know I’m here to listen if you want to share stuff about your family or—well, anything.”
Did he want to share? He never had before. Not even with the guys on his crew. They knew Joel, sure. Some of them had even worked with him over the years. But no one knew the complicated history. Not even his oldest buddy, Leo; not all of it.
“I sorta raised my brother.”
Now where had that come from?
Kayla blinked, and then her eyes filled with sympathy. “I didn’t know that. He’s younger than you?”
“Yeah. Three and a half years. We, uh, moved out when he was fourteen.”
He watched as the wheels turned in her head and her brow furrowed. “Which would have made you—seventeen?—when you took in a teenager by yourself?”
“Yeah. Something like that.”
He waited for her to press. To ask questions about what would prompt two teenage boys to leave their parents’ home before they were old enough to vote.
But that wasn’t Kayla’s style. She didn’t push, didn’t pressure. Not even when he could tell she wanted to.
He appreciated that more than she could know. Other words stalled in his throat. Words he’d never said out loud, not to anyone.
He wasn’t ready to say them now.
“It was a long time ago,” he said instead. “I, um, I don’t really talk about it much.” Ever. He couldn’t believe he’d said any of this to Kayla. “Is it okay if we don’t talk about it now?”
“Of course.” The softness in Kayla’s voice drew him back from the edge of ugly memories. The softness in her eyes drew him in further. “Thank you.”
Tony shook off the bitter thoughts. “Thank you for what?”
“For sharing. I know that’s not your thing. That’s the first time you’ve ever told me about your past.”
“Yeah.” He dragged a hand down his face. “Maybe I really am growing.”
“You are.” Her smile lit him up from inside. “You definitely are.”
He nodded, absently rubbing a hand over his chest where it had started to ache. “So gonorrhea, huh?” He smiled when she gave him a startled look. “I might have overheard that.”
She rolled her eyes as she fiddled with the edge of the tablecloth. “I wasn’t serious. In case you’re worried about—” She trailed off, color tinging her cheeks. “You know.”
“I wasn’t worried,” he said. “I thought it was a great defense.”
“Thanks.” She brightened as the waitress brought the crème brûlée, along with two spoons and a fresh club soda for Tony.
He thanked her as Kayla picked up a spoon and offered it to him. “Nah, you go ahead,” he said. “You should have it all to yourself.”
“I really shouldn’t,” she insisted. “Come on. Dig in.”
Hesitating, he took the spoon and dipped it into the corner. The sugared crust cracked, revealing creamy custard beneath. He spooned it up, watching Kayla’s face as she did the same.
“Damn, that’s good.” She closed her eyes and did a little swoon, making Tony’s chest do likewise. “You like?”
“I like.” He wasn’t talking about the dessert.
Clearing his throat, he ordered himself to stop ogling her. “What’s the worst pickup line you’ve ever gotten?”
Tilting her head to the side, she considered it. “The guy who walked up to me and asked, ‘Are those space pants?’”
“Space pants?” He frowned. “I don’t get it.”
“I didn’t either. I started explaining that they were just jeans I’d gotten at a consignment shop downtown, but he interrupted me and repeated, ‘Space pants!’ all frustrated. Then he added, ‘Because your ass is out of control.’”
Tony frowned. “I still don’t get it.”
“The line is supposed to be ‘out of this world.’ He didn’t even get that part right.”
“Ouch.”
She shrugged and aimed her spoon at the crème brûlée. “To be fair, alcohol may have been a factor.”
He dipped his spoon into the dessert again, more annoyed than he had a right to be with any guy who’d made her uncomfortable like that. “Sorry you have to put up with that sort of shit.”
“It’s not always that bad,” she said. “Once, there was a guy who came up and asked me to feel his shirt.”
“Interesting approach.”
“I didn’t, of course,” she said. “So he rubs his sleeve on the back of my hand—like this—and says, ‘It’s made of boyfriend material, just like me.’”
“Gross.” What wasn’t gross was the warmth of Kayla’s arm against his hand. Jesus, her skin was soft. “Have lines like that worked in the history of ever?”
“Nope.” She shook her head. “Wait, no—I take it back. There was this one guy, Jamie. We ended up dating for a few months. We met when he came up to me at a bar and said, ‘My buddies bet me I wouldn’t have the guts to talk to the prettiest girl in this place. What do you want to do with their money?’”
An unwelcome pinch of jealousy nipped the space between his ribs. “You’ve got quite a history of interesting bets.”
“I thought it was pretty clever. Better than the usual crap, like, ‘Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’ or ‘Are you tired from running through my dreams all night?’”
“Guys really try those lines?”
“Affirmative.” She grabbed another bite of dessert and regarded him over the edge of her spoon. “How about you? Ever
used a cheesy pickup line?”
“Nope. Not once. Ever.” He was pretty sure, anyway.
“Okay, how about bad breakup stories,” she said. “Based on the number of exes you have, I’m guessing there are some doozies.”
He shrugged, giving it some thought. “Maybe one or two.”
“Give me an awkward breakup story,” Kayla said. “A time that didn’t go according to plan.”
He considered it, sipping his fresh soda. “In college, this girl dumped me at my place,” he said. “We’d been studying together and then fooling around, and out of nowhere she says we shouldn’t date anymore because she’d started seeing her ex again, and he had a Porsche, so…”
“Ouch.”
“That’s not the awkward part.” He grinned and stole another bite of dessert. “She forgot she didn’t have her car because I’d driven her there. This was before Uber, so after she gave her speech and walked out the door, she had to slink back into my apartment and ask me to drive her home.” He cleared his throat. “In my shitty Volvo station wagon, instead of a Porsche.”
“But you did it, because you’re a gentleman.”
He had to admire her faith in him. He also had to be honest. “Not that much of a gentleman.” He grinned again. “I might have felt smug two months later when I heard the guy ditched her for someone else.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t do something douchey, like put sugar in his gas tank or raw shrimp in his trunk.”
“Nope, I didn’t do that. Why waste good sugar or shrimp?”
Kayla laughed and dug into the dessert again. “Tell me another awkward breakup story.”
“Oh-kay.” He had to think a minute. “There was this woman I’d been dating a couple months. I’d just finished my second season as a Hotshot, and I was excited to spend some time with her after being gone all summer. But she’d planned this whole breakup speech about how she didn’t see things going anywhere with us and she could tell I wasn’t really into her.”
Which sounded weirdly familiar, now that he said it out loud.
He kept going, not wanting to derail his story. “Anyway, she gets to the end of her breakup speech, and I finally get a word in. ‘Damn,’ I told her. ‘Helluva speech to get on my birthday.’”
Kayla’s eyes widened. “Was it really your birthday?”
“Yep.” And probably a good indication of how little he’d let her into his life, if she hadn’t known that after two months of dating. “She got all flustered and apologetic and said, ‘I’m so sorry—if you want, we can go out tonight and break up tomorrow instead.’”
Kayla laughed, wincing in sympathy. “Ow. Sorry. Did you take her up on it?”
“Nah, I was fine. To be honest, I wasn’t too bummed about it.”
Which he’d always seen as a positive sign. But the more time he spent analyzing his past failures, the more he’d started to wonder if it wasn’t. If he’d done such a bang-up job walling himself off that no one really knew the real Tony.
Not even Kayla.
Fumbling in his memory bank for a better story, he located a doozy. “I dated this girl a few years ago—Imogene Lux.”
“That’s a great name.” Kayla licked her spoon, making Tony lose his train of thought.
“Yeah, so I was out on a fire in northern Idaho. I finally had service after five days without, so I’m texting her from my sleeping bag.”
A memory flickered in his mind from back when he and Kayla dated. He’d been on a fire with Grady, and the bastard wouldn’t stop smiling. All evening, texting Willa from his sleeping bag, as the two lovebirds got to know each other. The way his buddy lit up like a lantern made Tony burn with jealousy.
He wanted that, both then and now. Back then, he’d thought maybe it could be Kayla.
Why the fuck had he let her get away?
“Anyway,” he continued, getting back to his story. “She texts and says she has something important to discuss, and could I maybe call? So I jump out of my sleeping bag and cram my feet into my boots so I can go off into the trees and make the call without annoying the rest of the crew.”
“Thoughtful of you.”
“Thoughtful, maybe,” he said. “But I wasn’t actually thinking. Any idiot who spends time outdoors knows to check his boots first before sticking his damn feet in them.”
“Uh-oh—”
“Yep.” He grimaced, still remembering the pain. “Stepped right on a scorpion. Big sucker, too.”
“Oh my God.” Kayla drew her hands to her mouth. “Were you okay?”
“It hurt like a son of a bitch, but yeah, I was fine.” He grinned and sipped his soda. “Anyway, I finally called Imogene after the throbbing died down. She dumped my ass, of course. Which hurt considerably less than the scorpion sting.”
“That’s horrible.” She studied his face, something more serious glinting through the laughter. “Does it ever get to you?” she asked.
Unease rippled up his spine. “What do you mean?”
“All these breakups. Do they ever penetrate your armor? Break your heart? Anything at all?”
“Sometimes.” More than he wanted to admit.
“Which ones?”
“What?”
“Which breakups have hurt the most?” she asked. “Maybe if we get to the bottom of that, we can start to figure it out.”
You.
The word flashed through his brain unbidden, a puff of smoke in the back of his mind.
He’d joked about their breakup at the time. Told his buddies it didn’t matter. Told Kayla it didn’t matter, when she suggested they just be friends.
It did matter.
It still mattered.
He hadn’t ever admitted that. Not to her. Not to himself.
Say it. Tell her.
But he couldn’t do that. Doing that would put him right back in that scary, vulnerable place, and no way was he willing to go there.
The clatter of her spoon pulled him back to the moment. She’d finished the dessert and was looking at him with a hunger he knew had nothing to do with crème brûlée.
“Tony?”
“Yeah?”
She squared her shoulders, breasts rising as she took a breath. “About what happened between us the other night—”
“Kay, it’s all right.” He held up a hand, ready to reassure her. “We can just pretend it didn’t happen. This doesn’t have to be awkward.”
She kicked him under the table. Hard.
“Ow.” He rubbed his shin as she glared at him from across the table. “What was that for?”
“Will you let me finish, you big jerk?”
She didn’t sound mad, but he couldn’t figure out the look in her eyes. At least he had the sense to keep his mouth shut so she could continue.
“I was trying to say this is silly,” she said. “This pretending it didn’t happen or acting like we don’t both want it to happen again. I’m right, aren’t I?”
He nodded dumbly, knowing that was the only safe answer. “You’re right.”
“So, I say we act like grown-ups about this.” Tossing her hair, she looked him dead in the eye. “We have good sexual chemistry, and we’re both capable of satisfying each other like adults.”
“I—” Jesus, what did he even say to that? “Yes.”
She smiled and whisked her napkin off her lap, setting it beside her empty water glass. “Good. Then we’re on the same page. Let me just get the check, and we can go.”
Go? This was really happening?
Tony’s brain reeled—though, to be honest, it wasn’t his brain working overtime.
“I can pitch in for dessert.” He started to reach for his wallet but stopped when she glared again.
“This is my date,” she said. “My chance to be a strong, independent woman who goes after what I want. And r
ight now, I want no-strings sex with you.”
Tony swallowed hard as all the blood drained from his head. “Yes, ma’am,” he agreed, willing to do just about anything when she looked at him like that.
“Good.” She smiled. “Let’s do it.”
Chapter Eleven
Fake it ’til you make it.
Her book had a whole chapter on doing just that, and it had nothing to do with faking orgasms.
She knew firsthand Tony could deliver the real deal.
No, it was the bravado she had to fake. This facade of being a strong, powerful woman who didn’t think twice about casual sex.
And that’s what this was—just casual sex. Nothing more, nothing less.
She glanced at Tony in the driver’s seat, all hot and strong and a little bit dangerous.
“You cold?” He started to reach for the heater.
“No, why?”
“You just shivered.”
“Oh.” Nerves, probably, which was silly. They’d slept together lots of times. He’d had his face buried between her thighs mere days ago.
Why would she be nervous now?
Because she knew him now. Saw his soft, vulnerable underbelly. Tony was seeing her, too. And he liked her, supported her, insecurities and all.
Maybe they’d been naked together, but they’d never been this bared.
“It’s just sex.” She tossed her hair as she said it, projecting her best swagger. “No big deal.”
He glanced at her and smiled. “I happen to think it’s a pretty big deal.”
“Right.” She thought about making a dick joke but clamped her mouth shut. That was more Tony’s style, though it was true he’d been more than gifted in that department.
Her girl parts gave a pleasant squeeze as Tony pulled into the parking space at the hotel and killed the engine. She started to get out, but he caught her by the hand and locked eyes with her. “Hey, Kay—you know you can back out of this at any point, right? We can just chill the fuck out and eat Oreos all night if that’s what you want.”
Was it what she wanted?
She let her gaze drop to his broad chest and linger there for a few beats before trailing down his abdomen, the ridges visible through his snug tee. She kept going, eyes skimming the bulge at the fly of his jeans.