Light Up The Tree: A Firehouse Three Novel

by Regina Cole

  Her tongue had invaded his mouth, her hips grinding on his as he reached behind her to grab her ass and sink deep into the hot, slick core of her body.

  It had been hard, and fast, and delicious, and he’d woken up horny.

  But then the alarm had gone off, and that passion leapt straight into pure adrenaline as he and the rest of his engine crew threw on turnout gear and headed off to the scene of an early morning rush hour accident.

  The three-car smash-up hadn’t been pretty, but the injuries were minor. Working alongside Liz, Ty, and Reid, he had been able to forget his worries and concentrate on his job.

  There’d been an eight-year old kid in the center vehicle, and the boy was pretty damn scared. While Liz and Reid checked in with the law enforcement officers who’d just arrived, Nate knelt down next to the kid. His big brown eyes were scared, his olive coloring washed out. Mom was talking on her cell phone just a few feet away, hysterical Spanish words flowing out in a babbling stream of one-sided conversation.

  “Do you speak English?” Nate asked, and the boy nodded. He was holding a beaten-up little stuffed dog in one arm like it was his last bastion of safety there on the sidewalk.

  “You feeling okay?”

  Another nod, but then he glanced toward the fire truck. Liz had left the lights on to help slow down the traffic that was still creeping by, and the red flashes reflected in the boy's wide eyes.

  “I’m glad you’re okay. Do you like fire trucks?”

  The most vehement nod yet, and then the beginnings of a smile. Mom had ended her conversation, and was now standing just behind her son with a tender look on her face. As the kid stared at the fire engine, Nate tilted his head in that direction and crooked his eyebrow. Mom nodded.

  Nate stood, and held his hand out to the boy.

  “Come with me and I’ll show you and your mom the engine.”

  “Really?” Excitement threaded his words as he looked from Nate, tall, strong, dressed in turnout gear, to his mom. With a shy smile, he grabbed Nate’s hand and all four of them—Nate, the kid, his mom, and one stuffed puppy—checked out Engine Number 3.

  It was such a simple thing, but it made Nate feel good to watch the fear and stress leave the pair’s faces while the child’s joy of discovery took over. The wreck hadn’t been the mom’s fault—a texting commuter in a silver Prius was responsible for that—but Nate knew exactly how scary something like that could be for a kid. It did his soul good to see the boy smiling and laughing after the scary morning he’d had.

  Helping out was exactly the kind of thing Nate needed to get himself out of the headspace he'd been living in.

  After the accident wrap up was completed—wrecks towed away, cops finished scribbling their accident reports, passengers picked up and the scene cleared—Nate, Liz, and Reid headed back to the station.

  It was shift change time.

  “Nate.”

  He’d been hanging his turnout gear back on the rack, and he turned. It was Reid. He stood at the doorway that lead from the garage into the station proper, his hands in his pockets, and a weird expression on his face.

  It was odd. Reid always called him Cowboy.

  “Yeah?”

  “Sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to crawl up your ass.” Reid shrugged. “I just like to give you shit.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Nate said, and he meant it. Reid liked to talk smack, something Nate had always presumed was a defense mechanism. Reid didn’t discuss personal stuff—never had. Nate had noticed the shadows behind his eyes when he was quiet, which wasn’t often. Most of the time he was a balls-to-the-wall nutjob, but the good kind. Reid couldn’t have known that Nate was up in his head big time about things. “All forgotten.”

  Reid nodded, then held his fist out to Nate, who bumped it.

  “Just wanted to make sure we’re cool. I’ve got your back.”

  “And I’ve got yours,” Nate said with a nod.

  As Reid turned and walked away, Nate looked after him.

  How lucky did he have to be to land in a job like this? In a station like this one? These people weren’t just his coworkers, they were friends. Family. If the worst happened, and Allison ran scared because he clung to her too tightly, then these were the people that would pick him back up. Put him back together, even though he’d been mostly silent around them for the five years he’d worked at the station.

  Firehouse Three was home, and the people who worked there were the biggest reason. Though he loved the big red trucks, the concrete-floored garage, even the beat-up green sofa in the lounge, the thing he’d miss most of all about the place if he ever were to leave was the people.

  He finished up and headed out to his truck. The blue F-150 was parked at the back corner of the lot, the noonday sun glinting off the hood despite the cool air of the day. His keys were in his hand as he felt his cell phone buzz in his pocket.

  Inside the cab, he answered the call. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Nate.”

  Her voice warmed him, curling under his skin to coil tightly in his belly. “Hey.”

  “Do you have time for lunch? You just got off shift, right?”

  Lunch. With her. Hell, yeah, he did. If he could, he’d make it lunch to go with a dessert of naked Allison. He opened his mouth to answer, but she kept talking.

  “I've just lost a big account and I don’t know what the hell to do. I need a listening ear, if you don’t mind.”

  His noonday nookie hopes died a quick, fiery death.

  Dumbass. What did you think, she was calling him up for a naughty nooner? You’re her friend, not her lover, despite what happened yesterday. If you want to keep her, you need to remember that fact.

  “I can do that.”

  “Mind if we call something in and eat it at the office? I don’t want anyone to overhear. Deb’s gone out for some doctor’s appointment or something this afternoon, so it’s empty.”

  “I’ll pick up Chinese food on the way,” Nate said, mentally mapping the way from her favorite greasy takeout to her office. “Be there in twenty.”

  “You’re an angel,” she said, and blew an air kiss before killing the call.

  Shaking his head at the disappointment still soaking his bones, Nate nosed the pickup toward the restaurant.

  He needed to cool it. Things were still uncertain, and until he knew how to play it, he should just respond to her cues.

  But the need for her was growing deep within him, and he wasn’t sure how long he could keep it at bay. He was still determined that one way or another, they’d be together. But keeping his hands to himself was a difficult proposition.

  Especially with the memory of her body wrapped around his cock so raw inside him.

  * * *

  The computer screen didn’t change, no matter how many times Allison blinked at it.

  An email was open in her browser, and the words were completely unbelievable.

  It was from the Dallas Cancer Foundation, the group she’d organized the event for just last weekend. The one Burt had almost ruined with his drunken accusations.

  Thinking maybe something would make sense if she read it aloud, she cleared her throat.

  “Ms. Kurtz, we wish to terminate our business relationship with you effective immediately…” Her mouth went dry, and she took a swig from the water bottle beside her mouse, then resumed reading. “Thank you for your services up until now but we have decided to engage another company for our needs, going forward…”

  There was more, but none of it changed the fact that she’d just lost another major client.

  Allison slumped back into her office chair.

  The room spread around her was nice. Dark, cozy, expensive. Bookshelves lined one wall, and there was a fireplace in the corner. A leather sofa sat in front of it, the wooden feet and brass accents matching the mahogany desk Allison’s computer sat on. The whole place felt and looked like a gentleman’s library in an old manor house.

  It wasn’t the room�
��s fault that Allison couldn’t keep a client. There was nothing in her office, in her manner, in her connections that a client could find wanting. She’d tallied the final financial report for the foundation’s event herself just a day or two ago. More money had come in than she’d projected, a good amount more. They couldn’t be upset about that.

  So, what was to blame? She didn’t know what had gone wrong. Allison never panicked, but if she was the freaking out type, she’d have indulged in a good screaming what-the-fuck kind of fit.

  Deep breath in, let it out. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, the smooth leather arms under her palms warming against her skin. Slow, even, oxygen met and left her lungs in an easy rhythm.

  “Hey,” said a deep, sexy voice, and her eyes popped open.

  “‘Thaniel,” she said, and before she knew what the fuck was happening she’d leapt out of her chair and thrown herself at him. Wrapping her arms around his middle, she buried her face in his chest. “Everything is shit and I don’t know what to do.”

  Frowning, she squeezed him harder. He hadn’t wrapped his arms around her, hadn’t held her back. For a long moment, she stood there, listening to the thump-thump of his heart against her ear. But damn it, she wanted a freaking hug. What was wrong with him?

  Stepping back, she opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind...

  Oh. In one hand, he held a bag full of Chinese takeout, and in the other, there was a drink tray with two large Styrofoam cups.

  “Let me put this down,” he said, stepping to the leather couch. He put the food and drinks down on the coffee table there.

  Feeling more than a little foolish, Allison smoothed her blouse.

  What was her problem? This wasn’t like her. She didn’t fall apart. She planned. She moved forward. But for some reason, when her big, strong, cowboy mechanic came striding through that door, she felt like maybe being strong and in control twenty-four-seven might not be what she wanted. Letting someone else help her shoulder the burden was so, so appealing.

  But what did that make them? Would he resent that kind of burden when she couldn't promise him a relationship?

  A hand at her waist pulled her close to his big, warm body, and her thoughts dissipated like smoke on the breeze.

  “Sorry about that,” Nate said, his broad hand sweeping up and down her back as he kissed the top of her head. She closed her eyes, her arms winding around his neck.

  For a long moment, they stayed that way, holding one another. His touch never wandered farther south than her waist, and though she thought about tilting her head up for a kiss, she didn’t.

  The comfort was too fragile and too necessary to push any farther.

  “When did you find out about it?” Nate asked, breaking the silence as he pulled back to look at her.

  “This morning. Deb called me before I left home.”

  “Come on,” Nate said, threading his fingers through hers. “I know that means you didn’t eat breakfast. You always think better after a meal.”

  She let him lead her to the couch. It was nice to accept the takeout box and chopsticks he offered her and do nothing but eat in silence next to him.

  He was right. As the food hit her stomach, washed down by fresh iced tea, her neurons started firing.

  Thinking was good, but thinking out loud with Nate to help her was better.

  “I lost a brand-new account this morning,” she said, stirring her leftover lo mein with her chopsticks.

  Nate crooked a brow at her, his fork—none of those fiddly chopsticks for him, the damn things just pissed him off—poised with a bite of broccoli just below his chin. He didn’t say anything, just waited for her to continue.

  “They’d emailed the general mailbox, despite the fact that I’d been corresponding with the CEO from my own email account. There wasn’t any information, just a general ‘thanks but no thanks’ kind of message. I went to their offices, but the receptionist basically admitted that she was supposed to run me off.”

  The more she talked, the madder she got. She set down the remains of her meal and leaned toward Nate as she continued.

  “Just before you got here I lost another account. The Cancer Foundation.”

  “The one from the party last weekend?”

  She nodded tightly in response to his question. “That fundraiser made buckets of money. Twenty percent more than I’d projected.”

  “And you don’t know why.”

  She shook her head. “I called, but Carol was really cagey about the whole thing.”

  Shoving to her feet, she paced in front of the fireplace, barely aware of Nate's eyes following her movements.

  “Oliver’s secretary said it was a woman, so it’s not Barry. If not him, though, who?”

  “Maybe someone new?”

  Allison stopped just in front of the hearth and turned to look at Nate. “But there isn’t anyone new in town. There's me, and Barry. That’s it. The only other firm went out of business five years ago.”

  “Hmm. That’s a hard one to figure, then.”

  She sighed, looking at the hearth. “All that and Burt called the office again. He said he wanted to talk to me, but Deb put him off. I can’t deal with him again, not after that shit he pulled at the gala.”

  Nate’s growl startled her, and she whirled to look at him. The expression on his face was downright deadly.

  “It almost makes me wonder if the two things are connected.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well,” Nate said, setting his fork down, “it seems to me that there are three options. Either Barry’s got a woman working with him, someone new’s in town and looking to snap up some big clients, or someone’s trying to sabotage you.”

  “Sabotage?” Her mouth fell open.

  “Someone not involved in the kind of work you do.” Nate cracked his knuckles. “Burt was pissed that you cut him out of the business with the divorce. If that fucker is trying to drag you down to get revenge, I’ll seriously consider using the bastard for a new exhaust pipe.”

  Anger whirled inside her stomach, so intense that she couldn’t speak for a moment. That rat bastard. As much as she hated it, she couldn’t deny that his words made sense.

  “Burt,” she spat, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “That greedy goddamn son of a bitch.”

  Nate pulled his cowboy hat off and dropped it onto the empty space on the couch beside him. Ruffling his shaggy brown hair, he smiled, an expression that sent shivers down her spine.

  “I almost hope it is that bastard. I owe him another right cross.”

  12

  Watching Allison angry-march in front of the fireplace was fun, even though he was pissed off on her behalf.

  But the color high in her cheeks, the way her body moved, prowling like she was looking for something to kill, made him want to pull her into his arms and put that passionate anger into a more amorous frame of mind.

  He was a bastard. She was worried about losing her business and he was worried about how to get her out of her pants, and then murder her ex-husband for putting her through this.

  “God,” she said, sinking down onto the couch beside him. He barely moved his cowboy hat in time to keep it from being crushed. “I can’t believe this.”

  Her head thumped against the back of the couch, and she turned her eyes in his direction.

  “Think I could hire someone to go talk to him? I sure as hell don’t want to do it.”

  “I’ll do it,” Nate said, then almost bit off his tongue.

  She hiked her brows at him. “Really? Think that’s a good idea? He still might sue you for assault, you know.”

  Nate snorted, letting his hand fall onto the couch beside them, his pinky barely brushing the outside of her thigh. “As if that bastard would have the guts. Sorry, but he’s a coward. I’ll go and talk to him, see if he’s behind this. I don’t think he’ll be able to resist crowing about it if he is. And then I’ll be in a damn good position to clock him for yo
u.”

  “Thank you,” she said, leaning his way, and then a grateful kiss landed on his surprised lips.

  Damn. Guess she had noticed the way his hand was pressing up against her, and liked it.

  Her mouth slanted against his again, lips parting this time, and he took advantage of the slight opening to slip his tongue inside.

  But this wasn’t gratitude. Not anymore. This was straight-up passion as her hands crept down his abs to loosen his shiny metal belt buckle.

  He smiled against her mouth as his fingers tangled in the silky blonde strands of her hair. Her tongue was in his mouth, her hand working its way down the front of his jeans like she needed to get in there, stat.

  He was totally on board with that idea. His cock was hard, his blood rushing beneath his skin as she writhed against him.

  Damn. This woman was under his skin, inside his head, all the way down to the marrow of his bones. He lived, breathed, and died for Allison.

  Too bad if she knew the extent of it, she’d run for the hills. But he would manage that somehow. He had to, for both their sakes.

  Slamming the lid down on that train of thought, he pulled the control back. Now he was the one who was pushing her into the couch cushions, one knee pressing down between her open thighs as his arms braced on either side of her shoulders.

  Breaking their kiss, he stared down at her.

  Her always-perfect hair was mussed, her power suit wrinkled and askew from the way she’d writhed against him. Her wide, gray eyes were hungry, and her pink lips were swollen, her lipstick mussed.

  She looked like she could use a good fucking, and he was just the fireman for the job.

  One swift, hungry kiss later, he stood and crossed the room. Looking back at her, he made eye contact as he flipped the lock on her office door.

  “Strip.”

  “What?” She asked, her eyebrows hiking high as if she was amused about something.

  His tone was firmer than it had ever been with her, and it felt damn good to push the bonds of their relationship. “Get naked. Right now.”