Marissa did and Arianna’s eyes went wide. “Really? Eleven years ago? And you ditched him because you thought he’d go back?”
Marissa shrugged. “Yeah. I wouldn’t listen when he chased me down. Shit, I’m worse than Isandro. At least he listened when you went to him.”
“Yeah.” She glanced away. “But you said she was pregnant at the time.”
Marissa nodded. “Their marriage was never meant to last, but that boy is sweet. And I feel bad that everything is going down the way it is. Metcalf is a good guy. I’ve never heard him badmouth someone, but his ex dropped Ashton off without warning. I don’t get it.”
“Be there for him. He’ll need a set of ears and someone to lean on.”
“Thanks. How about tomorrow? I have it off. I could come to you.”
“Sounds good.”
There was a knock on Marissa’s door. She frowned and went to answer it. Dave stood there with a beautiful bouquet of flowers. No roses in sight.
After Carson’s mother forced their divorce, he sent a dozen white roses every week for a year, killing any appreciation for roses she may ever have.
Did Dave remember? A smile spread across her face.
“Good morning, Metcalf. I’ll see you later, Marissa.” Arianna slipped through the door and hurried home.
“Uh, come in,” Marissa answered.
“I didn’t mean to send her off.”
“Nah, it’s okay. She has to go to the shop. Come in.”
“Is it okay I came by?”
“Yeah.” She started for the kitchen, in search of a makeshift vase. It had been years since anyone had given her flowers. “Want some coffee or something?”
“You’re all I want.”
Grinning, she spun around. “That’s why you brought flowers?”
He ducked his gaze. “I remember you telling me how much you liked flowers, but not roses. Thought this might get the point across that I do want you.”
“Are you going to laugh if I put these beautiful flowers in a pitcher? I don’t have a vase. I haven’t had flowers in forever.”
He shook his head. “I’ll remember that next time.”
“Next time?” she whispered.
He laid the bouquet on the counter and backed her against the sink. “Yeah.” His lips brushed over hers, his hands curling around her hips as he pressed close. “Have a problem with that?”
“Nope.” She wrapped her hand around the back of his head and pulled him down for a deeper kiss.
He broke away to whisper against her ear, “I need you, Marissa, say yes.”
“Yes,” she breathed, pulling his shirt up and over his head. He shoved her shorts down before she managed to get her shirt off. Metcalf lifted her onto the counter, then pushed his pants off.
She scooted closer, her mouth locked on his, their tongues dancing as his hands grazed up her sides.
Marissa got her hand between them and stroked his length. “Here?”
“Got a better plan?” His hips pushed forward, his dick sliding into her.
She pulled her hand away with a grin and rubbed her clit.
“Fuck, you’re close.”
She nodded. “Been thinking about you since you took me home.”
“Same here,” he grunted, rocking into her. His forehead pressed against hers as he looked into her eyes.
Her lips twisted in a smile. “Dave.”
“Hmm?”
“Harder.”
He stopped holding back, hooking his arm under her leg while pulling her ass to the edge. Dave pounded into her, driving the pleasure higher.
“Fuck, yes!” she cried, rubbing harder as he thrust faster. He felt so damned good she might lose her mind.
Then she came apart. Her arms went around his neck, pulling him tight as he followed. She kissed along his neck.
He held Marissa, her heart thumping with his. A need to hold onto Dave twisted through her. Closing her eyes, she buried her face against his neck and breathed in his scent.
The intimacy scared the hell out of her, but she didn’t want to let go. She pulled in a stuttered breath, holding him tighter.
“Hey, what is it?” he asked in the gentlest voice.
Tears threatened to spill.
The nagging voice at the back of her mind kept whispering she was just like her mother. Desperate and stupid.
No. I’m not my mother.
Dave is not my father.
He’s a good man who would never neglect his son, or the woman in his life.
Damn it, I am not weak. This can work!
Shaking her head, she pushed through the doubts and fear, and shoved them down to the bottom of the well, deep in her mind.
He leaned back, lifting her chin until she opened her eyes and looked at him. “What did I do wrong?”
“Not you.”
“Don’t push me away.”
She clung to him, hoping he’d understand. “I’m not. Reminding myself why I’m not.”
He ran his thumb across her cheek. “That doesn’t make sense.”
She let out a sad laugh. “Yeah, I know.”
“Talk to me.”
“It’s stupid.”
“It’s not. You’re giving me that same look you did eleven years ago.”
She blinked. Pushing him away was the last thing she wanted to do, no matter what that insecure piece of her insisted.
Metcalf leaned in and kissed her softly. “Tell me so we can clear the air.”
She sucked in a breath and let it out in a stream of words. “I’m afraid to need you like my mother needed my father. And I know it’s stupid, which is why I’m trying to shut up that voice.”
He frowned, then his mouth dropped open. “Right. Shit, Marissa, I’m not going to be that guy. And you’re not her.” He pulled her closer. “You’re too strong to let someone break you down.”
“And you’re not going to hurt me.”
“But you’re afraid anyway.”
She nodded, laying her head on his chest. “That was my problem all along, and I didn’t even realize it.”
“Ever talk to someone about it?”
She shook her head. “Never realized before now.”
“You let Carson go. Randy. There were others.”
She snorted and pushed him back. “Yeah. But Randy was cheating, and when I called him on it, the asshole hit me. That was it. I pressed charges. Carson…” She let out a heavy sigh. “He was so damned sweet, and he washed away the hurt.” She pushed him back enough to break their contact and sighed.
Metcalf put his hands on the counter next to her thighs. “But he left because he wasn’t strong enough to stand up to his mother.”
She nodded. “I knew it was a mistake the moment I woke up with a hangover and a ring in a Vegas hotel room. Hell, I knew what would happen. But he charmed me into staying, kept us in our own bubble until we had to go back to school.” Marissa huffed. “You know, his mother was sitting in his apartment when we came back. She had the papers right there, ready to sign. And he did it without question. So, I did. Then I walked away and never looked back because I refused to turn into my stupid mother who couldn’t let that asshole go.”
“I can’t imagine you ever making her same mistakes.”
Sliding from the counter, she ducked her head and gathered her clothes. Marissa dropped them on the bedroom floor and went to her shower, turning it on.
His front covered her back, his arms going around her waist. “No running this time.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You just tried to walk away from me instead of facing this.” He placed a kiss on her shoulder. “I’ve learned something. It’s better to face your demons than let them eat at you.”
She closed her eyes. “What is this, Dave? Between us, I mean. Where are we going?”
“We’re exploring us.”
She turned in his arms, looking up into his blue eyes. “What do you want from me?”
“You.” He shrugged. “I
can’t define what’s between us. But it sure as hell isn’t new. Tell me you always felt the pull.”
Nodding, she glanced away. “That’s what scares me, Dave.”
He caressed her face, staring into her eyes. “Do I need to let you go?”
“No. I’m not running.” Strength infused her voice. Hope bloomed. She swallowed hard and grabbed onto that. “I’ll talk to someone, but not today.”
“A friend works. I’ll listen. Your brother would.”
She snorted. “No. He’s in a good place. He’s had his own issues with our parents and what he thought he might become. And you…I need a third party. Someone outside of it. Who isn’t going to tell me what I want to hear. Who will make me face the ugly truth.”
She closed her eyes, and he pulled her closer, rubbing her back.
“If you want a therapist, I have a good one.”
“No. I know who will listen and push me in the right direction.”
“I’m here if you need to talk to me. I can listen without talking.”
A grin stole across her lips. “Because you’re the right guy.”
He reached down and grabbed the shampoo. “Can we take our time? You wet and naked is exactly what I want.”
“Mmhmm, sounds about perfect.”
Chapter 8
Two hours later, Marissa pulled up to the firehouse. Metcalf leaned against his truck with a smile. “I took the liberty of packing everything you’ll need for this investigation.”
“What I need?” she asked with an arched brow.
“It’s mostly precautionary, but there is a list of gear we’re supposed to use, and we will definitely use it to make sure we’re safe.
“Such as?”
“Hard hat, mask, breathing apparatus, boots, gloves, and overalls. Whatever accelerant they used was likely toxic. It’s a newer house, so there shouldn’t be too much concern, but I don’t want anything to happen to you. And I’ve always erred on the side of caution when investigating.”
“Suit up there?” she asked with a smirk. He was looking out for her, and she liked it. And yeah, he would have done that for anyone going, but he took the time to explain.
“Yup.”
She climbed in with him, and he drove over to the house. As he parked, she asked, “What are we looking for?”
“Points of origin, what caused the ignition, any other clues. Like the fact every window was open to ventilate.”
Marissa looked up at the house. He was right. “So the arsonist took time to set it up.”
“Yeah, they knew some of what to do, but not everything. You’ll see in a few minutes. But the house is damaged. I need you to stay with me and follow directions.”
Her lips quirked. “Yes, sir.” She even saluted.
He laughed and pulled her close for a kiss. “Got to stop smiling at me like that. We’re here to work, and all I can think about is making love to you in my truck.”
“Then we better get to work,” she answered in a husky voice.
He stole one more kiss before climbing out.
* * * *
Metcalf knew his stuff. Marissa was impressed by the methodical way he walked through the house. He took notes, samples and talked a lot about things that went over her head, but instead of interrupting his train of thought, she waited until they were at lunch.
They sat in the diner after ordering. He studied the notes he’d taken, rubbing at his jaw. She liked the interest he took in the case. A man who used his mind had always been sexy.
“So, the windows being open were for ventilation?” she asked.
He nodded. “The arsonist went as far as climbing into the attic to open the windows. That tells me they knew the fire needed oxygen. But the thing that baffles me, they took a hammer or something to the gas pipes. Luckily, they didn’t damage them bad enough for the house to blow. But they did bust through two of the walls to get to them.”
“You believe that was the goal?”
“Why else would someone try to damage them?” He tapped the notes, a frown marring his face.
“Sorry, you’re the expert. I’m asking because I want to understand. If they had damaged the pipes, what would have happened?”
“If enough gas built up? An explosion that would’ve leveled the house. With the windows open, a smaller explosion, but it would spread the fire. But there were three places where something was poured down the wall, two places where sheetrock was busted and the gas pipe was dented. I can’t think of any other reason someone would go that far to damage the piping.”
She nodded. “So, someone who knows that would aid the fire, but not necessarily the best way to go about using it in the fire.”
“Yeah. But they could have blown themselves up if they had succeeded. A hammer could cause a spark, which would ignite the gas if they had busted the pipe. But my biggest question is why that house. No one lives there. The person who bought it was renting it out, but it’s been empty for a month.”
“Maybe because it was empty?” Marissa leaned forward. There was another theory, but she wasn’t sure how he’d take it. “Happen to know who rented the home? Or who bought the place? If not I can find it, but it might save time to figure out a why.”
“The Cosgroves bought the house to rent out. I don’t know the family who moved in. They were young. They lived there a few years, but I never met them.”
Marissa nodded. She could think of a dozen reasons he hadn’t kept track of the house.
Reaching across the table, she took his hand. “So, the black charred sections near the holes are where they coated the wall with accelerant.”
“Yeah.”
“What do you think they used?”
Metcalf rubbed at his head. “Some kind of petroleum distillate. Maybe paint thinner. Something along those lines. Something that would stay on the wall unless wiped off.”
“Someone stole a ton of paint thinner, batting, and other things from Barnes Hardware the other night.”
“The asshole who hit Enrique?”
She nodded.
“I meant to ask about him. Isandro filled me in, though.”
“He’s wearing a brace, but he’s good. And yeah, same asshole. I wish we had gotten a better view.”
“Isandro said you weren’t on that case.”
“Yeah, well, Zerr agrees that what was stolen in the robbery is likely what was used in this fire, so I should be on it. Besides, from the tape, it looks as if Enrique was in the wrong place at the wrong time. For now, they have to share their info until I can prove without a doubt it’s related to the arson.”
“The samples should do that. We should drop them at the lab.”
“Yeah.”
“So, tonight?” Metcalf changed the subject.
Her mouth curled into a smile. “Yes?”
“I’m trying to think of something fun for Ashton.”
“Pizza, make your own pizza. We can do small ones, choose our own toppings.”
“That’s a great idea. Might help me figure out some of his favorites. They all seem to have changed.”
“Let me do the shopping. Isandro and I did it with the twins when we had family night and they were still his age. They always looked forward to it, and Isandro and I had fun.”
“You could give me a list.”
Smirking, she shook her head. “We want him to get to know me, right? Let me do this for both of you.”
He pulled her hand to his mouth and placed a kiss. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
Food came, and they ate. She wanted to look into the Cosgroves and watch that video again.
Chapter 9
After her shift, Marissa ran by the store to get everything they’d need for the pizzas. She never expected to look forward to such a laid-back night with a man and his kid. Something she’d always wanted but didn’t think she’d ever have.
Moving through the aisles, she gathered everything they’d need. She moved with purpose, letting her mind w
ander through the possibilities surrounding the case, but trying not to focus. She wanted to enjoy her evening.
Someone bumped into her and Marissa turned around.
Chelsea wore a smug smile. “Fancy meeting you here. What are you doing?”
Her bubbly voice grated on Marissa’s nerves. She was too chipper for Marissa’s taste. Carson’s mother probably loved her to pieces.
“Hey, just shopping.” Turning back, she hoped to end the conversation.
Nope, Chelsea grabbed her arm. “Hey, I had a question. How did you keep Carson’s attention?”
She was such a broken record. Facing her, Marissa shrugged. “Not a clue. That was twelve years ago, Chelsea. It lasted a little over a month. You’re asking the wrong woman.”
Her eyes narrowed as she shook her head. “He talks about you an awful lot.”
Marissa laughed. “Don’t know what to tell you. I avoid him when possible. I haven’t said more than two words to him in years.”
“Just want to know your secrets so he’ll talk about me as much.”
“Chelsea, I wish you the best of luck with Carson. And I hope his mother likes you because she was the reason he left me. But stop asking me because I don’t know him anymore. We aren’t friends.”
An evil smile lit her face. “Fine. You don’t need to be bitter.”
Marissa managed a cold smile. “I’m not bitter. I couldn’t care less what he thinks about me anymore. The only time he enters my head is when you bring him up. You need to talk to him, not me. I don’t have the answers you want.”
Marissa pushed her cart down the aisle and turned to escape Chelsea. There was something wrong with her.
* * * *
Metcalf paced his kitchen. Ashton was on the phone at the counter, talking to his mother. He’d called earlier, and Jeanette had explained the bullshit diet and why Brett insisted Ashton shouldn’t be enrolled in art.
Because Ashton wanted it, and he wanted to give a subtle fuck off to Brett, he enrolled Ashton in a weekend art class. Next year, he could take art as an elective in middle school.
He tossed out the strict food list. Not that it seemed to harm Ashton, but a treat now and then wasn’t going to kill him. Not to mention Ashton didn’t care for strictly eating raw food—whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean.
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