Up In Flames (Flirting with Fire Book 2)

by Jennifer Blackwood

  Five hours later, the guys had cleared out. Reece pulled his shirt over his head and made his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He’d already done the Peaches Potty Run, or PPR, as he had started referring to it, and she had somehow made her way onto his bed, curled up near his pillow.

  “Nope. You get the floor, princess.”

  She let out a low grunt.

  “Attitude? Seriously? You’re ten pounds. Tone it down there, pip-squeak.” He doubted she understood him, but somehow talking to her made him feel less crazy.

  He went to move her off the bed, and she let out a growl.

  “No way. I draw the line here. Nobody but me sleeps in this bed.” No one had ever slept in his bed before. Of course, other activities happened here, but he had a policy—no one stayed overnight.

  He scooped her up and put her on the floor. She turned back toward him, and he swore she fixed him with a glare. She squinted at him with a demonic rage that had him thinking that maybe he needed to sleep with one eye open tonight.

  He reached for the magazine on his nightstand and opened it up to the photo of Blake Shelton again, and Peaches let out a yip and beelined it for the doggy bed in the corner of the room.

  He chuckled. He’d have to get creative now that he knew what made Peaches fall into line.

  Before Peaches even thought about trying to make another go at the bed, he propped the magazine up on the chest in front of his bed.

  Chapter Eight

  “You made him foster a dog?” Madison snorted over her coffee mug.

  A smile twitched at Sloane’s lips. It was comical how big, brutish Reece was walking a Yoranian the size of a loaf of bread. Her dainty little leash fisted in his big, calloused hands. “It’ll be fine. I’ll do some welfare checks and make sure the dog is being taken care of. You should have seen the look on his face when he saw that the dog came with sweaters and a tiara.”

  “You are wicked. But that might backfire on you. Nobody can resist a cute dog in a sweater.”

  Sloane shot Madison a look. Okay, she was right. Because the dog did look pretty cute in her little rhinestone tiara. Even Sloane had squealed and taken a picture of the dog to send to her mom.

  Madison’s hands flew in response. “Fine. You’re right. Reece is naturally repellent.”

  “Much better.” He might fill out firefighter attire nicely, but she knew the man beneath the Under Armour. Or whatever brand of workout gear he usually wore. Knowing Reece, it was some cheapie brand. He’d always been frugal. Except when it came to his beloved cars.

  “What do you have planned for your next task?” Madison asked.

  Sloane swirled a spoon in her drink, trying to come up with something. “I don’t know yet. It has to be something good.” She wanted to be smart about it. Nothing too immature. She did value her own time and money, and she didn’t want this to escalate into middle-school antics. Just a bit of messing with him. Just enough to show him that he might find Sloane repulsive while the nurses around her and the entire female population were datable, but she more than made up for it with her brain and the sheer will to squash him like a bug.

  “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

  “What are we talking about?” Erin asked, sliding into the booth with a scone and a steaming cup of coffee. “And please tell me it involves caffeine, because it’s three weeks till winter break, and I’m ready to lock myself in my room and never come out.”

  Erin had told them last week that the time between Thanksgiving and winter break was an absolute madhouse at school. As evidenced by the dark circles under her eyes.

  “Total annihilation of your brother,” Sloane said.

  “My favorite subject,” Erin said as she took a bite of scone, crumbs dropping from her mouth. “I say you make him dress up in eighties’ style for the rest of the week. Maybe make him wear some cutoff shirts.”

  “I wouldn’t want to subject the general public to that.”

  “True.” Erin pulled out her phone and typed something in, smiling. Sloane liked to see Erin this way. Erin was always the sunny one in the group. But she’d been absolutely beaming these past few months.

  “Lover boy?” Madison asked.

  Erin nodded. “He’s on shift right now. Says that Reece is very tired because the dog kept him up all night.”

  “Good to know he is suffering on my account.”

  “Your heart of ice brings me such joy,” Erin said.

  “It took a lot of practice, but I’ve honed my magic.” Truth be told, this was the first time she’d ever given anyone a hard time. Sure, she spoke her mind, wasn’t afraid to share her opinions at work, and didn’t put up with bullshit from rude patients. But this was different. Quite possibly a little beneath her, but so what? It was kinda fun.

  She guzzled her tea and checked the time on her phone. “Crap. I need to get going.” She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and scraped the crumbs off her scrubs. “I’ll see you guys later.”

  “Have a good shift,” they both called out.

  Sloane made her way to her car and, ten minutes later, parked in the hospital garage. She took one last sip of her peppermint tea and steeled herself for her shift. One skill she’d learned over the years was to compartmentalize. She had to, especially during the last few years in the ped unit, where she’d dealt with chronically sick children. If she didn’t, she’d be a blubbering mess the rest of the day.

  The past six months, she’d made the transition to the ER. It wasn’t her favorite area, but as long as she had a steady paycheck, that’s all that mattered. Especially with the house on Mississippi potentially going up for sale soon. Then she wouldn’t have to live vicariously through Reece. She missed having pets in her home.

  She breezed through the sliding doors and greeted Tom and Rebecca, the other two nurses on shift tonight. She liked the night shift because it tended to be quieter than daytime. Gave her more time to plot Reece’s demise. Okay, maybe she was stooping to middle-school level with him, but hell, it felt good. What were a few weeks of torture?

  “How’s it going, lady?” Rebecca asked, her elbow resting on the nursing-station counter. Rebecca had worked here almost as long as Sloane had.

  “Good. How is Laura Jean?” Rebecca and her wife had just adopted a baby girl earlier this year.

  “Almost walking. I found out she’s highly motivated by trying to get to Pickles.” Pickles was their Lab mix who treated Laura Jean like she was one of the pack. Rebecca posted adorable videos of the two on Facebook all the time.

  “Dogs are great motivation.” Sloane shimmied out of her coat and put it on the back of her chair. “How many beds are filled?”

  “Two. Slow night so far.”

  “Excellent.”

  Just as she pinned her ID to her pocket, two firefighters entered through the sliding doors, wheeling in a patient on a gurney.

  Sloane gritted her teeth when she saw Reece. Right beside him was the cute one who was way too young for her to be looking at. She liked her men old enough to be able to rent a car.

  “Smurfette. Always a pleasure,” Reece said in that gravelly voice that both irritated her and sent a lick of heat down her spine. Reece’s voice was deeper today, low and scraping like he’d just woken up.

  She ignored the nickname. She also ignored the fact that gooseflesh cropped up along her forearms. She attributed it to the chill in the ER.

  “What do we have here?” She motioned them into an open room.

  “Fall in the driveway. She has a prior amputation on the left leg, possible fracture to the right.”

  Sloane nodded and gave a quick once-over to the patient while Rebecca started an IV line on the woman’s arm. Scrapes covered her hands and face, most likely from trying to catch herself in the fall. One eye was swollen shut, and a large chunk of skin was missing from her cheek. Her leg was at an odd angle, no doubt due to a break. Sloane made a mental checklist of what to order. X-rays, at the very least. The woman was in for a
whole world of pain getting the bone reset . . . and a lot of PT in her future.

  Reece and Cole gently lifted the woman and moved her from their gurney to the hospital one. The poor lady made a weak grunting sound as the men gently set her down on the bed.

  Reece picked up a small black bag from their gurney and handed it to her. “Here’s your purse, ma’am. I hope you’re able to make it on your vacation to Ireland in March.”

  “This one.” The patient pointed to Reece. “He’s a charmer. Gotta watch yourself around him. I’d take him to Dublin with me, but my best friend has the other ticket.”

  He patted her hand. “Next time, Grace.”

  Oh, please. Sloane managed to suppress an epic eye roll.

  “He’s something, all right,” Sloane said. So what if he could lay the charm on unsuspecting old ladies. Didn’t mean he wasn’t full of crap.

  Sloane and Reece both walked out of the hospital room, back to the nurses’ station, while Cole finished up with Grace. Rebecca was outside the room, filling in the doctor on rotation.

  “How’s Peaches?” Sloane asked.

  He leaned against a gurney and folded his arms, the muscles in his forearms flexing. His fingers rested on his biceps, and Sloane’s mouth went dry. Were his hands always so big? Long fingers like those could do delicious things. He was talking. But she couldn’t seem to focus on the words.

  “Sloane?”

  “Huh?”

  His brows pinched together. “You okay?”

  There was no way she could be thinking like this about Reece, of all people. Sure, he might have an unfairly nice body, but Sloane wasn’t that shallow. She needed the brains and the personality to go along with it. She waved her hand dismissively. “Just distracted with . . . work stuff. What were you saying?”

  His lips pulled into a tight smile. “She’s a delight. A very sweet dog. Although, we’ve had words about her wardrobe choices.”

  Liar. She could spot his tells from a mile away. If she hadn’t known him since they were kids, she might not notice the way he tapped his thumb on his leg every time he tried to BS his way out of something. Or the fact that he only smiled without teeth when he was fibbing.

  “I hope her incontinence problems when she gets excited won’t be an issue.”

  Small dogs tended to have an issue with peeing when excited—a curse among those breeds. She could have told Reece he should be well supplied with piddle pads, but she hadn’t bothered. He was a quick learner.

  “Not at all.” He gave her a tight smile. “In fact, I’ll be a little heartbroken when she’s adopted.”

  Okay, maybe she was a monster, but the thought of dog pee all over his floor was kind of entertaining.

  “Glad you two are getting along so well. I’ll have to tell Kurt that you can keep her for longer if needed.”

  The muscle in his jaw feathered. “Think of the next chore yet?”

  She moved closer to him, their bodies inches away. Heat radiated off him, and she had to tilt her head back to look at his face. It made Sloane aware of just how much he towered over her. A flash of the memory from a year ago invaded her thoughts. How she’d told him he’d break her bed. Heck, he probably could. She swallowed hard. “You’ll be the first to know when I do.”

  “Are we going to have a showdown in the ER lobby? Because at least give me a chance to grab the popcorn first,” Cole said as he exited the room and walked up next to Reece.

  They both quickly stepped away from each other. “Sloane here is just making sure that I uphold my duties to the community,” Reece said tightly.

  “No popcorn needed. Sorry to disappoint,” Sloane said.

  He gave her one last glance, shook his head, and sighed. “Have a good night, Smurfette.”

  She just smiled and turned back to the room with their most recent patient, relieved to have a reprieve from whatever she was feeling when she was so close to Reece.

  Sloane made it back to her apartment at six the next morning. The majority of her shift had been uneventful, besides a car-crash victim. But he’d been moved up to the ICU after they triaged him and would probably be in surgery by now for his neck injuries.

  Sloane flopped down on her bed and checked her messages before setting down the phone on the nightstand. Just the group chat between her, Erin, and Madison, but she was too tired to read through the ninety-nine-plus messages about how they were obsessed with Richard Armitage narrating some audiobook. And then there was a text from her mother.

  Mom: Miss you. Wish you were here.

  She’d sent a picture of herself and Sloane’s dad. They had taken a trip to Sanibel Island, and they were both sitting in the white sand, beaming at the camera.

  Sloane: Miss you too. Pick me up a seashell.

  She was honestly surprised that her parents had decided to go down to Florida for an entire two months. They loved family time at Christmas just as much as she did.

  She frowned, thinking that this would be the first holiday that she wouldn’t spend at her parents’ house. She thought about going to their home and celebrating solo, but that just sounded pathetic. So she’d roped Erin and Madison into spending it with her. She’d be the third wheel, or technically a fifth wheel, since Erin would bring Jake and Madison would bring her on-again, off-again boyfriend, Dereck, if he wasn’t traveling for work.

  It’d be better than last Christmas, though. Even flying solo this time around.

  During the weeks leading up to Sloane’s dumping him, Brian had been a complete tool. Even though she’d started dating him during college and had been with him for almost a decade, their last year together had gone downhill quickly. Less time spent together, and the times they had been together, they’d fought. When she’d caught him in bed with someone else—like a movie cliché—he’d tried to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal. And when she’d insisted that it was, he’d blamed her. Said she wasn’t interesting enough. Didn’t have enough variety in bed. He was no longer attracted to her. She wasn’t the freakin’ circus, and she didn’t need to entertain. So his ass had been kicked to the curb. And to think she’d been so sure at nineteen that he was the one.

  Sloane blinked back tears. So silly. She wasn’t that naive teenage girl anymore. She’d gone to therapy, sorted out her feelings. Mostly. But there was always that niggling doubt that maybe it had been her fault. She told that voice to shove it.

  She smoothed her hair into a ponytail and applied some lip balm. Maybe it was time to try dating again.

  She grabbed her phone and fired up one of the dating apps she’d neglected for the past few months. Right after Brian, she hadn’t been ready. Now, what did she really have to lose?

  She looked over her daily matches. Just as she was about to swipe right on a cutie with tattoos, a message buzzed through her phone.

  It was Reece taking a selfie with the dog. He was giving a thumbs-up while at the park. There were several women in the background, petting Peaches, who was dressed in an orange sweater today. Sloane rolled her eyes. She should have known Reece would use the dog to get women.

  Another message rolled in.

  Reece: I’m ready for my next task.

  Sloane: Fine. Come to my apartment.

  Reece: Be there as soon as the fan club is done with Peaches.

  Ugh. If this man could get gaggles of women, Sloane should surely be able to go on one date without freaking out. She turned back to her dating app and took a deep breath.

  Reece pocketed his phone. “Peaches and I are going to head out,” he said to the last woman who was still crouched down petting the dog. She was stalling, most likely waiting for Reece to make a move. She’d be waiting a long time because it wasn’t happening. When Reece didn’t say anything further, she stood and tore off a piece of paper from a notebook she was carrying and scrawled something on it.

  “Aw. Well, here’s my number if you ever need someone to help walk your dog.”

  “Thanks.” The woman was gorgeous. Long legs, silky
brown hair, pretty face. Definitely his type. But for whatever reason, Reece wasn’t the least bit interested. He didn’t know if it was because the dog was throwing him off his game—Peaches snored like a chain-smoker—or the fact that he was steeling himself for impending doom at Sloane’s place.

  “What do you say, P? Should I go see the tiny dictator?”

  Peaches barked.

  “Fine. Would you prefer malevolent dictator?”

  She wagged her tail.

  He shook his head and led her down the path toward the main road. “You women and your vernacular.”

  He’d had the dog for a couple days now, and it wasn’t too bad. Peaches did whine a bit when she didn’t get to sit on the couch, but she’d just have to deal. He’d also have to get used to all the Blake Shelton pictures hanging throughout this house. Four surrounding his bed, two near the kitchen counter, and one near his weight-lifting equipment.

  He made the five-minute walk back to his apartment. A text came through just as he’d gathered all of the dog’s toys into a plastic bag. He’d take Peaches to his mom’s while he dealt with whatever Sloane had in store for him.

  Sloane: You do know how to fix showers, yes?

  Reece: What part of the shower?

  Sloane: The drain. It’s not working.

  Reece: There’s this thing called Drano. Works wonders.

  Sloane: Yes, smart-ass, I’ve used that. It’s a lost cause.

  Reece: I’ll give this to you—you’re not one to mess around with your requests.

  Reece sighed and opened the utility closet, grabbing the tool he used to fish hair out of clogged drains.

  Sloane: Are there stipulations now? Should I be going easy on you?

  Reece: You know I like it hard.

  Yes, he was trying to get a rise out of her.

  Sloane: Not even bothering to answer this. C U soon.

  “This woman is going to be the end of me, girl,” he said to Peaches. At least the sooner he finished up the shower, the closer he’d be to completing all four tasks and going back to his normal life.