by Tina Leonard
He bent to kiss the delicate red vee, meaning to convey with his kiss how he felt about her. But when she squirmed, her hand tensing beneath his, he couldn’t help himself. He kissed her bud, suckling it. Slipped a finger inside her, and she arched against him, crying out his name.
“Santana!”
He was astonished when she climaxed, hard. It was too fast—he’d wanted to draw her pleasure out. He spread her legs, intending to pleasure her again, but she pulled him onto the bed, throwing him off balance so that he tumbled forward.
“Emma—”
“I need you.” She got on top of him, kissed his lips hard, grinding against him.
When she sank onto him, he thought his heart would stop.
“Fuck me,” she whispered. “Fuck me, Santana.”
He thrust up into her, and she cried out, her hands digging into his skin. She matched his thrusts, riding him. He desperately tried to hang on, not wanting to come until she did. Needing to feel her pleasure, needing to know he pleased her, he rocked into her hard, nearly passing out when she cried out his name over and over.
His own climax nearly blacked out his brain. If he’d always wondered where he was going to belong on this planet, he didn’t wonder any more. Against all odds, he belonged in Emma’s arms.
“It should be a crime to want you as much as I do,” he said, falling back with a groan. He stared up at the ceiling realizing that the words that had somehow left his mouth were absolutely true. It wasn’t just want, either. It was blinding, deep-rooted need.
She rolled over and looked at him, propping up on his chest. He felt his heart lurch happily at the familiarity.
“You know, it’s not just you.”
He raised a brow. “Oh?”
“No. I want you, too.”
“Yeah?” He hoped like hell that was true.
“A little.” She winked at him. “Maybe.”
He looked into her eyes, feeling himself fall deeply into something. Something.
Oh, hell, who was he kidding?
What he’d fallen into was love. “There’s no way this ends well.”
She kissed him. “Who says it has to end?”
He didn’t know what to say to that. His future was murky, his past murkier. Just returning to Star Canyon and leaving the Navy behind had required soul searching. He needed time to process what he’d left behind in the Middle East, brothers he would never see again. It had been a hard job, but he’d been committed to it and the need to serve. He’d expected a transition when he’d returned, but the transition was pretty fucked up. He’d been empty before, now he felt lost somehow. Except when he held Emma. Wasn’t that fucked up, too? Latching on to the class geek voted Most Likely to Succeed, when he knew he had dark spaces that might not ever be filled again.
His arms tightened reflexively around her. “The thing is, Emma, I’m pretty broken.”
“I’m good at putting things back together.”
Of course she couldn’t possibly understand, because he didn’t even know if he could make it back from the edge of the darkness. His father had spun them into a whole new world of crazy.
“It’s okay, Santana. You’ve warned me. I’m a big girl. You don’t have to protect me.”
He wanted to believe her so badly, wanted to believe that it would be okay. And when Emma moved on top of him, Santana grabbed her hips and told himself this slice of heaven could last forever.
He’d just never experienced forever before.
• • •
Christmas in the Star Canyon square was beautiful. Ropes of green garlands hung over the windows of the few shops and Mary’s restaurant. Red bows adorned every black lamppost. Star Canyon #1 even had a Christmas tree out front, and two wreaths on the doors.
The Magic Wedding Dress shop was dark and lacked decorations. Some folks had approached Santana to mention that livening it up a little with some holiday spirit might be a good thing. Sierra’s grand opening had been canceled. They wanted to know if the store itself was going to die before it ever opened. Sierra’s absence had been impossible to ignore—everybody knew instantly that she had left town.
His sister had that effect. By far the most visible and personable of the Darks, she checked in on people, frequented stores, volunteered. She was greatly missed.
“Thanks for agreeing to help me with this,” Santana said gruffly, feeling bad that he’d had to drag Emma into his family’s issue. “I haven’t got the first clue about holiday décor.”
“Give me the key. I’ll look around, see if Sierra put some stuff in the back. She had to have been thinking of decorating. She was planning her grand opening for the week of Christmas.” Emma looked at the brand-new sign that Sierra had been so proud of, and Santana felt a twinge of unease, though he couldn’t have said why.
“I’ll call her and ask her.”
She looked at him. “Have you spoken to her since she left?”
“Cisco had a brief text that she was fine, that she was exploring her new head space with appreciation for solitude.”
“That sounds like Sierra.”
It did. “Do you mind starting without me?”
Emma opened the door. “Go. You’re not needed for this small job. I’ll let you know what I find. In the meantime, maybe go hunt up the Captain.”
She closed the door, and he heard her lock it, which was smart, since The Magic Wedding Dress shop wasn’t ready for visitors. He didn’t have to worry about Emma. She was levelheaded, and this area was safe. He dialed Sierra’s number, went straight into voice mail. “Sierra, we’re digging around looking for your ornaments. This isn’t exactly my strong suit, but the town fathers want all the stores holiday-ready. Like Lightning Canyon,” he said as an afterthought, hoping to rouse his sister’s competitive spirit. Sierra was nothing if not competitive. “Anyway, give us a shout if there’s anything you’ve squirreled away that we should use for your store.”
There was no more he could do here. Emma hadn’t seemed to require him for this job, and frankly, the less time he spent in his sister’s pipe dream, the happier he’d be. Damn Nick Marshall for encouraging something that he had to have known would never happen.
But he couldn’t really blame Sierra’s meltdown on his cousin. He decided to take Emma’s advice and head over to the station, which he’d been avoiding, a fact Emma probably knew. He hadn’t been there since he’d returned home. Deployed too far away and in too sensitive of a location, he’d been reached after the accident. After the service for his father. Sonny’s body hadn’t been recovered. There were a few minor injuries among the firefighters, a collapsed lung, a broken leg at the abandoned building, but Sonny’s remains had never been found after the explosion.
The tingle of unease hit him again. He couldn’t explain the feeling. If he was honest, he’d think he was holding back a premonition, the split-second warning that had saved him many a time in remote, dangerous locations. Sonny always said that Santana walked with a spirit guardian.
Santana had always hoped so. He needed a spirit guardian.
But this wasn’t the guardian keeping him safe. No, this unease was merely the soul of a man not wanting to revisit the past and its ghosts.
But it was time.
He walked across to Star Canyon #1, pulling his jacket up to keep the sudden chill off the back of his neck, and walked in, as if he were returning to his home away from home after a long absence.
The passing of time hit him hard as he walked by the familiar equipment, heard the low murmur of voices of men going about their work, saw the shiny red of the two trucks Star Canyon had assiduously budgeted for. He was listening for something, and he suddenly knew what was missing: The boom of his father’s voice, talking with his colleagues, encouraging the younger firefighters. They’d looked up to him, and his extensive knowledge. That was the father he’d known. Not the gambler, the man who’d lost the family ranch, the man who inexplicably had adopted five children, cobbling them together as a family
who loved each other. Children he’d guided and encouraged to seek education and a higher calling—that was the man Santana had known.
That voice was gone.
And in its place was now a quiet hollow as the gentle memories had been ripped away to a new, unfriendly reality.
Santana forced himself to stay and face his own demons.
“Hey,” Tag Murtaugh said, coming in to greet him. Tag was a big, athletic man with dark skin and a ready smile. Santana had heard Sonny say more than once that Tag was one of the station’s best they’d had come on in a long time. Tag had gone from “cadet” status to respected leader in record time. “I didn’t know you were paying us a visit.”
They slapped backs and did the guy thing for a second. Some of the doubt Santana had felt slipped away. The slight Scottish accent that was embedded in Tag’s voice was comforting, too. “How’s your father?”
“Dad’s good. Spending a lot of time gardening now that he’s retired.” A shadow passed over his eyes. “I’m sorry as hell about your father, Santana. We tried, we did our best—”
Santana held up a hand to ward off the words. “I know, man. If there was a crew that could have helped Dad, this was the one. Nothing more needs to be said.”
Tag nodded. “I don’t know, but the word on the down-low is that the captain’s been looking at Jack Pearson.”
“For arson?” Jack Pearson was the town blight. He was completely unlike his sister, True, who ran the hair salon. Everybody loved True.
Nobody loved Jack Pearson except his sister.
Santana understood that. As far as he was concerned, Sierra hung the moon. Nothing was ever going to change that. Brothers and sisters had a special bond.
“Sheriff Hayden seems to think there was a firebug involved,” Tag said. “He’s convinced that there was an accelerant out at Mac Callie’s place, too, and maybe the same used at the warehouse. It didn’t go up on its own.” He was sure of that. He hadn’t driven out to see the place the biggest fire Star Canyon had ever seen had destroyed. As far as he knew, neither had his brothers.
Sierra had. She’d told them not to go.
His brothers said some nights Sierra woke up, crying out after that visit. Santana figured he had enough demons that he didn’t need to stir the little fuckers up any more than they already were.
“Sheriff mentioned he might take a closer look at the chemicals Kayla Wright’s creating out at her lab. That’s strictly confidential between you and me, bro.”
Santana’s eyes widened. “Jenny’s sister?” Emma would be devastated. Jenny was one of her best friends. It was a tough call who was her best, Jenny or Sierra. He dared not tell Emma. The secret would hang heavy in his gut, though.
“I thought the good doctor’s work is highly monitored by the government and thousands of other agencies, because of terrorism cautions.”
“Everything’s monitored. Tightly,” Tag said. “It’s just a hunch the sheriff and some Rangers are working on.”
Santana shook his head, unwilling to hear anymore. “They’ll get to the bottom of it. I hope.”
Tag slapped him on the back again. “They will. I just wanted you to know, none of us will ever forget your father. He was a fine man. Hey, stop by his locker, if you want.” Tag left to take his shift, and Santana wandered over to the lockers, seeing at once that Sonny’s locker had his photo on it. Some words of respect from his fellow firefighters were written on pieces of paper and closed, taped to the shrine.
With a heavy sigh, Santana opened the locker, making certain he didn’t disturb the notes on the outside.
All his father’s things were inside, untouched. Tears jumped into his eyes and his throat closed up hard.
A photo in a frame was attached to the inside of the locker door: Sonny and his five kids when they were younger, all together. Happier days. Santana remembered his mother taking the photo. Sonny had been laughing because she said she couldn’t hold the camera still enough to take it. Sierra had been young enough that her hair was in tiny pigtails. Cisco and Luke wore boots, scuffed and worn, second-hand, if he recalled correctly. Romero grinned, missing a tooth in front, delighted that the tooth fairy had left him a nickel.
Santana was at the end of the group surrounding their father. Sonny’s hand was on his shoulder, squeezing it. Hanging on to him. His father’s grip had been strong.
He’d been strong enough to survive many fires, had many saves.
Sonny had known better than anyone that any fire could be the last. You had to live life each day as if you might not get another, Sonny said.
If he were here today, he’d say it again.
His father’s smile haunted him, the happy sparkle in his eyes completely belying everything they’d learned at the reading of his will. The man they’d known was not the man he’d been.
Santana closed the locker and left.
• • •
Emma hadn’t wanted Santana to stay and hunt decorations for several reasons. One, she didn’t need help with such a trivial task. Sierra had been so excited about her store that she surely had stocked something away. Emma felt certain.
Emma flipped on a light and gasped when she saw the reflection of a gown in the mirrors Sierra had put in with such pride. “Well, that won’t do,” she told the gown. “You scared me half to death. Back into your bag you go.” She grabbed the garment bag which was slung on a table. It wasn’t like Sierra to leave her prized possessions where dust could fall on them, or critters might make themselves at home in the fabric.
She gazed at the dress, remembering Melly Shelby’s touching story Emma’s hands warmed at the memory, almost uncomfortably. She dropped the garment bag where it had been lying. “I’ll zip you away before I leave. First, ornaments.”
The salon itself looked as if it was caught in time, suspended until Sierra finally opened her wonderful shop. And it would be wonderful, Emma thought, touching the velvet tufted chairs grouped around the salon. The room was centered on the mirrors, so that a bride could try on her dream gown, and be the focus of everyone’s attention. Emma wondered what it would be like to want to be a bride.
She’d never thought of getting married. Men had asked her out, but the experience of being taken to dinner by people she’d known all her life and who were now beginning to cast their gazes at her in a new light was unsettling. She’d been the class nerd too long to see herself in the way she apparently seemed to her old classmates.
A twinkle caught her eye as she walked into the large storeroom. Boxes were neatly stacked, ordered with different labels. Emma didn’t stop to look at the boxes, though she suspected these contained all the things Sierra had collected in the barn at the ranch.
Instead she’d chosen to open a bridal shop, based on a dream.
Sierra didn’t believe in dreams. Sierra relied totally on herself.
She spied a twinkle again at the back of the storeroom and edged her way around the boxes to reach it, glad for the bright light in the room.
“What are you doing?” a male voice demanded.
She whirled with a gasp. “Jack Pearson! You scared the shit out of me!”
The tall teenager with the blond, buzzed head and clear green eyes shrugged. “What are you doing? This isn’t your store.”
Emma felt a sudden tremor of unease. “I’m here because Santana asked me to be here. What are you doing in here?”
He shrugged. “Saw the lights were on.”
The lights were always on for the sake of security. Sheriff Lee liked the shops kept lit around the square. She couldn’t explain why True Pearson’s younger brother bothered her so much. He had a face that was bland and unremarkable. You didn’t know what Jack was thinking until he opened his mouth. Some people in the town claimed Jack was a troublemaker, but she’d never seen any evidence of that.
Not that she was taking any chances.
“Thank you for checking on the store, but I would prefer if it you left.” Emma frowned. “How did you get in,
anyway?” She knew very well she’d locked the door. Santana had insisted on it—though she would have done so anyway.
“The door wasn’t locked.” Jack shrugged again. “Thought somebody might be stealing something.”
“Why would you assume someone was stealing something?”
“Or they might be up to other kinds of trouble.”
Suddenly Emma felt very uncomfortable being alone in the back storeroom with him. “Everything’s fine. You can leave. I’ll tell Santana you checked on the store,” she said, hoping he’d feel that his efforts hadn’t gone unnoticed and would go.
She was surprised and a little weak when he meekly turned around and left the shop. The door closed with a whisper, and she flew to lock it, making certain this time to try the handle. It didn’t budge, and Emma sank onto one of the velvet chairs to collect her thoughts.
Suddenly, ornament-hunting held little appeal. She didn’t want to be in the shop any longer this late at night. There were only two ways into the shop, the front door, and a door at the back for deliveries. Jumping up, she hurried to the back, pulling on the handle.
It opened easily. Emma gasped, slamming it shut, locking it, turning the deadbolt.
Jack had come in from the back. He hadn’t known she was in here at all. She glanced around at all the boxes. If these boxes contained the items Sierra had collected over the years, then Jack might have been helping himself, knowing full well that Sierra probably had no catalog system. No one would ever know what, or if, anything was missing. And everyone knew Sierra had left town.
Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Emma glanced toward the back of the stockroom one last time, startled to see a twinkle thrown off the handmade dress. Or at least that’s what it looked like. She edged toward the dress, mesmerized. Reaching into the bag, she touched the fabric. Nothing happened, so she drew the gown from its bag and hung it on the rack to inspect it.
Emma wasn’t certain anyone would buy this gown, even at a garage sale. It was beautiful, old-fashioned in a lovely way.