12-Alarm Cowboys

by Cora Seton

  Chapter One

  ‡

  July, 2015

  Tanger, Texas

  Dax Blackwood stared at the charred remains of Cindy’s Restaurant. He could hardly believe it was gone. It had been owned and operated by his family for generations, since just after the Civil War.

  Now it was nothing but an eyesore. It had been a week since the fire but the ashes were still warm. The damn thing went up so fast the volunteer fire department had little chance to stop the blaze. They were able to keep the fire from jumping to nearby buildings, thank God.

  As fire chief, it was his job to meet with the investigator from the insurance company at the site. The dude was late and it was damn hot. Scorching heat close to a hundred degrees, if he had to guess.

  He took off his hat and wiped his sleeve across his forehead. If the investigator didn’t arrive soon, he’d get on back home and get some chores done. Or maybe have a beer with his dog, Kona.

  It was a typical afternoon in sleepy Tanger. The town had maintained its small size despite the massive growth in East Texas. Likely because it was ten miles from the closest highway, not near enough to attract the attention of any of the big chain stores.

  In Dax’s mind, that was a good thing. He liked small-town life and had no need to move onto bigger and better things. Unlike some folks, Tanger would remain his home for the rest of his life.

  He peered at his watch. It was half past three. The investigator was a full thirty minutes late. That was the end of Dax’s patience. He had too much stress already to wait around for more. Although going home brought him even more stress. His sister Hannah had moved out to the ranch after the restaurant burned. Now she was making him crazy as shit with trying to fix up the house and straighten up everything she saw. Dax didn’t need his house or his life fixed.

  He mashed his hat back on his head and spun on his heel to return to his truck. A blue sedan pulled in, stopping him in his tracks. His temper was slow to boil, but waiting in the heat had stirred him up.

  The son of a bitch sat in the car, in the air conditioning, something his ratty ride didn’t have, and fiddled with his papers.

  Dax stomped over and yanked the door open. “Look, mister, I got shit to do. Get your ass out here and let’s get this over with.”

  The person who emerged from the car was not a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and a paunch. Far from it. A woman with mahogany hair, eyes deeper than the blackest night sky, skin covered with freckles and a pair of turquoise glasses perched on her perfect nose.

  Shit.

  “Sophie?”

  She pushed up the glasses. “Hi, Dax. My ass is out of the car, as ordered.” Her perfect mouth twisted.

  “Don’t tell me you’re the investigator I’ve been waiting for.”

  “I won’t tell you since you seem to already know.” She tapped the screen on the tablet in her hand. “Care to join me?” With that, she slammed the car door and walked toward Cindy’s.

  Son of a bitch. Sophie Evans. What kind of universe made his ex-girlfriend the fire investigator he had to work with? The last time he’d seen her had been five years earlier, when she left Tanger for Houston. Left him for bigger and better things.

  Now she was back.

  Double shit.

  He put his hands on his hips and tried to keep his temper in check. “Seriously, you’re the investigator?”

  She glanced back at him, over the frames of her specs. “Yes, I am. I can give you my business card in a little while.”

  Business card? Screw that.

  “Jesus Christ, why you? Isn’t there any other available person, like someone recently released from prison? Or possibly one of those ridiculous wives of hockey players from television?” He couldn’t stop the bitterness in his voice. She’d almost destroyed him and now she walked, no she pranced, back into Tanger like a fucking princess.

  In typical Sophie fashion, she ignored him and whipped out a digital camera. As she snapped images of the ashes, he tried his best not to look at her ass. He’d always had a soft spot for that nicely rounded derriere and damned if she didn’t look just as good as she had the last time he’d seen her. When she walked out of his life.

  He couldn’t get himself tangled up over Sophie again. It took him years to get his shit together after she’d stomped all over him. Hell, he’d had only a couple dozen dates in the last couple years, and hadn’t been laid in at least six months. Pitiful to admit, even to himself. Most folks assumed a cowboy like him had plenty of women and an active social life. He snorted at the thought. Truth was, he’d much rather spend a quiet evening at home riding his horse, playing with his dog, or playing cards with his friends.

  Women were trouble. This woman was the worst kind of trouble. With a capital T.

  He could be a grown-up and a professional about it. Not only did his family own the restaurant, but he was also the fire chief. She would be in his face for everything. Maybe he could ask Hannah to take a hit for the team and speak to her as the owner. That still meant he would have to answer her questions as to how they’d handled the blaze.

  She stepped around the remains, her dark jeans stretching taut and her shirt hugging her amazing breasts. He looked away, unable to stop his traitorous dick from twitching at the sight. Had he no pride or self-control?

  “Did you determine the cause of the fire?” Her voice carried on the wind, and that whiskey tone sent a frisson of memory down his spine.

  “Isn’t that your job?” Damn, he hated the knife-edge in his voice. Dax wasn’t an asshole and he wasn’t a vengeful jerk either. He needed to remember that and pretend to be over her. No, not pretend. He was over her.

  She paused to enter something into her tablet, her long fingers rapid fire typing the only sound in the mid-afternoon on the near empty street in front of Cindy’s. “How long did the fire burn?”

  He took a deep breath and clenched his fists to keep calm. “We got the 9-1-1 call around one in the morning. Firefighters were on the scene within ten minutes with the pumper. The building is old enough it burned hot and fast.”

  “It’s customary for me to do my evaluation of the scene before I get a report from the fire chief.”

  “Do you want to hear the rest of this or not?”

  She paused her fingers for a moment. “Sure, please continue.” She returned her ticky tap into the tablet. He wanted to throw it on the ground and grind it beneath his shit-covered boots.

  “We started hosing down the buildings around it and controlling the spread rather than put it out. My great-great-great grandfather and uncles knew how to build something to last, but the wood was too dry to save.” He’d heard the stories of how the first restaurant burned and was rebuilt by Gideon, Lee and Zeke Blackwood. They were ex-confederate soldiers who’d settled in Tanger after the Civil War.

  The Blackwoods had become the backbone of the town, running at least half the businesses and two of the ranches around Tanger, including the Triple B, where Dax lived and worked. At least he did when he wasn’t avoiding Hannah.

  “Hm.” She took a few more pictures, humming and mumbling to herself. He gave her his back, unwilling to look at her any longer. The sight of Sophie made him want to tear something to shreds. Or run like a crazy fucker around the town screaming his head off.

  Maybe he was having a nightmare and would wake up in a few minutes. And maybe the sky was green.

  “How long is this going to take?”

  “Dax, your claim was over half a million dollars. It’s protocol to investigate a suspicious fire, especially one for such a large sum of money.” Her camera clicked a few more times.

  “The equipment inside was where the money was. My sister has all the receipts and serial numbers.” He reached into his pocket for his phone. “I’ll give her a call and she can come down and meet with you.”

  “No.”

  “No?” He paused with his thumb over the speed dial for Hannah, then turned to look at Sophie again.

&n
bsp; “No. I don’t need that information. Not yet anyway. I need to talk to the fire chief.” She pointed at him. “You weren’t the chief before, but you are now, correct?”

  He narrowed his gaze. “I am. I worked my ass off for it. We might be a rural volunteer fire department, but we take our job seriously.”

  “You’re defensive.”

  “You’re pissing me off.”

  “Same old Dax.”

  “Same old Sophie.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve got measurements to take, more photographs and information to record. I can meet you at the firehouse in a couple hours if you find my company offensive. That will give you time to get the receipts and serial numbers.”

  An escape beckoned. A temporary one, but an escape nonetheless.

  “Fine. Don’t expect supper though. We only feed our friends.” He winced at the rancor and obnoxiousness that spewed from his mouth. Would he ever get over Sophie?

  Dax turned and walked to his truck with as much dignity as he could muster. Foolish, stupid idiot.

  Sophie swallowed back the ancient pain that threatened. Dax always knew what buttons to push to hurt her the worst. He was so angry when he’d seen she was the investigator. What had she expected? After five years, she had hoped they could be civil.

  Apparently not.

  He’d hardly changed but he was different. Thick light brown, wavy hair, blue eyes, shoulders broader, chest more muscular. She swore he still wore the same black cowboy hat he’d had for ten years. His jeans hugged his well-formed thighs and ass. The man was a walking orgasm. Too bad he was also an asshole.

  Sophie had built herself into a different person and she couldn’t allow herself to slip back into the shadow of who she used to be.

  She shook off the dark cloud that hung over her shoulder and took a deep breath. She was here to do her job, not fall into a pit of despair. Especially over Dax Blackwood. He’d done his level best to change her into the woman he wanted her to be.

  Although she’d grown up here, Sophie had left Tanger so she could become the woman she wanted to be. Now she was back, against her better judgment. Her boss had insisted she be the one to investigate, given her history with the town and her knowledge of the owner.

  There were few times in her life Sophie said no. This was one of them, yet she’d still ended up taking the job. Her desperate boss had offered her an extra week’s vacation starting when she was done with this investigation.

  As she walked around the perimeter of the building, memories assailed her. She’d spent many hours at the restaurant, eating, laughing and canoodling. This place was all about her and Dax as much as the pond out on the Triple B. If they weren’t at one location, they were at the other.

  She pinched herself to yank her back from the reminiscing that threatened to derail her for the rest of the day. It was after three in the afternoon. If she hustled, she might finish by six or seven and make it home by midnight.

  Sophie pushed aside all distractions and focused on what she did best. Investigating. She’d discovered her attention to detail dovetailed on her photographic and artistic skills. Becoming an insurance investigator brought a mixture of mystery, tragedy, sometimes a smidge of danger, and a new adventure with each and every assignment.

  Now she’d found the remains of one of her favorite places in the world. Cindy’s was a landmark and now was an ashy pit of nothing. Sophie retrieved her hard hat from her car and got to work.

  Three hours later, sweat ran down under her arms, under her boobs and around her waist, soaking unattractively into her dark blue shirt. She disliked the uniform she had to wear while on site investigating. The jeans were more like the fiery gates of hell and chafed her skin where she perspired, which was almost everywhere. She trudged toward her car, glancing down at her boots and expecting to see puffs of steam with each step.

  What she wouldn’t give to be at the Triple B pond right now, diving into that cool, deep water. She grimaced at the foolishness of the wish. Distancing herself from the Blackwoods was her goal, not skinny-dipping with the man who’d broken her heart.

  Sophie contemplated heading back to Houston without seeing Dax again. For for half a second. Then her duty as an investigator poked its nose into her pity party and reminded her she had an obligation to her employer. The serial numbers and receipts were an important part of the claim. Kitchen equipment could be cheap or pricy. Unless they had proof of how much was lost, the insurance company wouldn’t make payment on the claim.

  Then she’d have to deal with Dax a lot more. Nope, nope, nope. Sophie threw her hat in the back and climbed in the front. It was at least a thousand degrees in that car, but it had blessedly cool air conditioning. She smiled as she turned the key and it clicked.

  Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

  No longer smiling, she turned the key again and again.

  Click. Click.

  “Goddamn it!” She slammed her hands into the steering wheel, inadvertently hitting the horn. She jumped and banged the damn wheel again. It was obvious she wasn’t going anywhere in the car.

  Since it was after five, most all the shops downtown were closed. It was still a small town after all. The way she figured it, she had two choices. Option one was to find a tow truck and wait in the heat. Option two was to call Dax.

  Well, hell.

  Chapter Two

  ‡

  Dax was washing the pumper truck when his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He tossed the sponge in the bucket beside him and pulled out the phone.

  His hands were wet enough it slipped and plopped right into the bucket of water.

  “Damn it!” He fished it out quick and wiped it on his already-soaked jeans. The phone made a strangled sound as it rang again. He pushed the answer button. “Hello?”

  Static and a few snippets of a female voice crackled through.

  “Hannah, that you?”

  “Soph—stuck—fire—”

  The phone went dead.

  His heart picked up speed. He tried to call back but the screen on his phone flashed and then it shut itself off. That had been definitely Sophie and she sounded distressed.

  Dax didn’t hesitate. He ran back into the fire station. Two other firefighters were there playing cards. He grabbed his keys from the hook on the wall.

  “Gotta go. Finish the pumper, wouldja?” He didn’t wait for a response although he heard them curse at him. They took turns washing the pumper and it was his job that week. If Sophie called him for help, that was serious. She had been radio silent for five years and wouldn’t contact him unless it was an emergency.

  He yanked open his truck door and tore out of the parking lot, leaving behind more rubber than he’d done in years. A few horns greeted his quick turn onto the main road. His cousin Kyle, a deputy sheriff, sat at the corner in his squad car. He flipped on his lights and popped the siren for a split second. More than likely Dax would hear all about the ticket he didn’t get the next time he saw Kyle.

  Screw it. He raced back toward the other end of town. The traffic had started to pick up a little considering it was after five in the afternoon. Not that there was much of a rush hour in Tanger, but there was something like it. Enough to slow him down when he was in a hurry.

  He honked and swerved around cars as he could. A few middle fingers and one shrieking old lady greeted him. He racked up a great deal of infractions that he would hear about for the next twenty years or so. One of the disadvantages to living in a small town was that everyone knew everyone else’s business.

  Given that he was a Blackwood, people had expectations he had failed to live up to. He was popular in high school but he didn’t go to college, no matter how smart he was or wasn’t. Instead he chose to take over the family ranch and make his living with his hands. People judge, as they often do, but he didn’t care. He made the choice that was the right one in his heart and he’d never regretted it.

  As he tore around the corner half a mile from the restaurant, the back end
of the truck fishtailed but he corrected the slide. He spotted the little blue car Sophie had driven up in still sitting in the same spot.

  Dax didn’t see her anywhere. He jumped out of the truck as soon as he slammed it into Park. His hat flew off and landed in the dirt beside the front tire.

  “Sophie?” He jogged around the truck to find the car empty. His breath huffed in and out to accompany his racing heart. Where the hell was she?

  He continued his search around the smoldering wreckage of the restaurant. Her small boot prints were around the perimeter, but he saw none in the middle where things were still dangerous. The second floor hadn’t collapsed completely.

  He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Sophie!”

  “Why are you shouting?”

  Her voice made him jump a foot in the air. “Son of a bitch!” He blinked at the sight of her, unsure if he was relieved or annoyed. Definitely not aroused. She was sweaty, sooty and her beautiful hair lay in limp lumps.

  “What happened to you? You called me but my phone cut out. You said it was an emergency and a fire.” He sounded breathless and ridiculous. What the hell was wrong with him?

  She frowned. “I said my car wouldn’t start. It wasn’t an emergency and I was still at the site of the fire. I was hoping for a ride to the fire station so I didn’t have to walk.”

  Well, didn’t he feel like an idiot.

  He also looked like an idiot.

  “Jesus, I thought you were in trouble.”

  She gestured to her car. “Technically I am in trouble. Or at least my car is.”

  “Where were you when I got here?” His voice was sharper than he intended.

  “Hiding in the shade of the tree hoping you’d show up so I wouldn’t have to stay in Tanger tonight. I need those receipts and serial numbers to finish my report.”

  Her words were like a slap. She didn’t want him. She wanted his truck and to escape from his presence before the clock struck midnight. That was a wake-up call he couldn’t ignore. Why had he rushed to her? He didn’t want to know the answer. It was a mistake. That was obvious.