On Fire - Deelylah Mullin

by Dallas Fire

  Reed’s response was almost immediate. Can’t wait.

  Butterflies launched in her stomach and she couldn’t stop grinning as she situated her phone—and herself—so she could sleep.

  But, sleep didn’t come.

  She picked up her e-reader and opened one of her favorite books. She became engrossed in the text, substituting Reed for the hero and herself for the heroine.

  An hour later, after reading failed to settle her, she got up and retrieved the laundry from the dryer, proceeding to fold it. After putting away her own clothes, she took Elliott’s down the hallway to the table near his door.

  “Will you be my daddy, Mr. Reed? My daddy was a police officer and a bad man took him away when I was a baby. My mommy cries sometimes when she doesn’t think I can hear her, too. She needs me to have a daddy so she won’t be alone anymore.”

  Elliott is talking in his sleep, again. She was, however, concerned about the topic. She wondered whether Elliott thought that way or if his subconscious was getting away with him.

  Creeping into his room as silently as possible, Harper determined her son was, indeed, talking in his sleep and not to a toy he’d assigned to Reed.

  Out of the mouths of babes. Even her son thought she needed more adult interaction—that she needed Reed in her life. Why should she deny the attraction? It was time to let someone else into their lives. It might as well be Reed Stephens.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Reed was supposed to have the day off. The typical shift pattern was twenty-four hours on, and forty-eight off. Roughly. Except when they called him in for a short shift—which happened at least once a week.

  Today had been one of those days. His phone rang at six in the morning, which meant he hadn’t had nearly enough sleep since he’d been texting with Harper until one.

  But, it was worth it. Every yawn reminded him of all the things she’d told him the previous night. The tidbits weren’t earth-shattering nor insanely intimate, but he savored every ounce of information he could get about Harper Phillips.

  He’d received a text from her a few minutes prior—just to make sure he was still able to make the soccer meeting.

  He wouldn’t miss it for the world.

  Arriving at just a few minutes before seven, Reed was running late. They’d had a call and had just returned—Reed hadn’t even showered before changing his clothes and hopping in his truck. He knew he smelled like smoke from the vacant house fire they’d recently doused.

  Standing in the doorway to the community center all-purpose room, he saw her.

  Harper worked the room. She was beautiful and her laughter soared over the murmur of other voices. People gravitated toward her, and they became happier by simply being in her vicinity.

  When she saw him, she beamed. It seemed as though the room quieted and a path between them cleared—so he could finally soak up more of her.

  “Hey. I sent you a text a few minutes ago. Glad you could make it.” Harper touched his forearm and electrical impulses skittered up his limb and straight to his dick.

  He blinked twice, cleared his throat. “Sorry I’m reeking of smoke. I didn’t have time to shower after the call.”

  She tipped her head, her brow knitting. “I didn’t think you worked today.”

  “They called me in,” he said.

  Harper nodded. “I remember those calls.” Her fingers danced over the bottom edge of her black lace top. The crinkles in the corner of her eyes vanished momentarily, but returned when he cupped her elbow with the fingers of his right hand.

  “Let’s make our way to some seats, shall we?” Reed said, sweeping his left arm in a wide arc.

  She laughed. “Okay, Vanna White.”

  He ushered her to a pair of vacant chairs and they sat, bodies turned toward one another.

  “Wait. Where’s Elliott?” Reed looked around the room.

  Harper leaned toward him. “He’s in another room with some of the older players in the league. Trust me, if he weren’t, he’d be right here chatting your ear off.”

  The president of the league approached them. “Scott Perkins. Nice to meet you, and thanks for coming. Ready to get started?” The men shook hands.

  “Sure thing. I’ll only need about ten minutes, if that’s okay,” Reed said.

  “No problem. Follow me and I’ll introduce you,” Scott said.

  The crowd settled into seats and the volume in the room dropped drastically as the president stood in front of the podium, Reed to his left.

  “Thank you for joining us this evening. We’re getting ready for a spectacular fall season.”

  The crowd applauded.

  “With the Texas heat continuing to reach crispy temperatures, we’re happy to welcome Reed Stephens from Dallas Fire and Rescue Station 11. Reed is going to talk to us about proper hydration and the warning signs of dehydration.” Scott stepped to his right and shook Reed’s hand again. The crowd applauded.

  When the audience settled, Reed began, “Good evening, and thank you for having me. I have been working in fire and rescue for five years, and one of the most preventable reasons we’re called in is because someone has collapsed due to dehydration. It’s especially scary when the individual is a child.”

  Reed continued his presentation to a rapt audience. At the end, he asked if there were any questions.

  “Do you appear anywhere shirtless for charity?” one woman queried.

  Reed pressed his lips together to keep from laughing, then shook his head. “No, ma’am. I’m afraid not.” He looked around the room. “If there aren’t more questions about proper hydration, I’ll let you folks get back to your meeting.” Reed stepped away from the microphone and returned to his seat with Harper, immediately feeling the relief wash over him.

  Scott thanked Reed and there was more applause. Then, he said, “We’re going to need two more coaches—one for the six-year-old program and one for the twelve division.” He looked around the room. “No sense in tap-dancing around it.” He looked around the room. “Any volunteers?”

  Harper poked Reed. “I’ll coach kids Elliott’s age if you’ll coach with me.”

  “Yes.” The word tumbled out of Reed’s mouth before he could think. “You know my work schedule is weird, so as long as you’re willing to work solo when I can’t make it, I think this would be wonderful—but only if Elliott is on our team.”

  Harper raises her hand. “We volunteer for the six-year-olds.”

  “Great,” Scott said. “We may need to make some swaps to ensure your son is on your team.”

  When there were no volunteers for the twelve-year-olds, Reed was ready to volunteer for that age group, too—but a mom piped up.

  “Hell. You guys are actually going to let me be the soccer coach for this bunch of something-or-other. Aren’t you.” The woman shrugged. “Is a hot fireman coming with the appointment?”

  “I’m afraid not. Just sit tight and keep your wits about you,” Scott said. “Or, they may eat you alive.”

  The crowd erupted in chuckles.

  Scott reviewed the rules for practice—including times and places that were sanctioned by the club—and pointed both coaches and parents to the rules of conduct posted on the club’s website and reviewed the highlights. “This is the part I really hate doing. We all want our kids to have fun, but, unfortunately, a few can spoil it for everyone.”

  Team rosters were distributed to coaches and announced to the gathered parents and players, and the meeting ended.

  While prepared coaches had mini-meetings with parents of team members and any present players, Reed and Harper collected email addresses and called for a Friday evening practice so the children would be ready for their game on Sunday afternoon.

  The captain would understand—coaching a soccer team was community outreach, right? He’d surely be able to sneak away, barring a call, on Sunday afternoon for an hour or so.

  As the crowd dwindled, Elliott appeared from seemingly nowhere, wrapping himself around Ree
d’s legs.

  “Mr. Reed! What are you doing here? Do you have a kid that plays soccer?” His excitement was narrowly leashed by his hopeful expression.

  Reed ruffled his hair, like James did, and said, “Sorry, kiddo. No kids for me. Yet.”

  Elliott nodded. “That’s cool. You can watch me play soccer.”

  “I’ll do you one better. Your mom and I will be your soccer coaches!” Reed tried to suffuse his response with as much excitement as he could muster as a thread of terror wound through him.

  What the hell am I doing, coaching six-year-olds? Reed hadn’t spent a lot of time around children—especially after the call with the mother and daughter during his training—but when Harper trailed her fingers down his arm, from shoulder to palm, a sense of calm flooded over him and he relaxed. Slightly.

  “Since we have to plan this whole soccer season before Friday, you should probably come over for dinner,” Harper said. Her hands flitted from her sides to the delicate column of her throat. She twisted a lock of her longer-than-shoulder-length brown hair between two fingers.

  “That’d be nice.” Reed nodded. “But, you’ll need to let me go home and take a shower, first. The smoke smell is getting to me.” He chuckled.

  “You just smell like a fireman. It’s okay,” Elliott said.

  “If it’s bothering Mr. Reed, he needs to go take a shower. It’ll take us a little while to get dinner made, anyway.” Harper attempted to curb her son’s enthusiasm.

  Elliott tugged on the hem of her shirt.

  She squatted down to his level, like she always did when he tugged on her shirt, he’d noticed. “Yes?”

  He wrapped his arms around her neck and whispered in her ear—a loud whisper, “Can Mr. Reed spend the night? He can sleep in my room. I can sleep with you.”

  She glanced at Reed, who poorly hid a smirk behind his hand. She couldn’t blame him—she was struggling with Elliott’s request, too.

  “I don’t think Mr. Reed can spend the night tonight. Besides, when adults spend the night, it’s a little different than when kids do,” she said.

  Elliott disentangled himself from her. He looked at Reed. “Well, you better get a move on. I’m hungry and it’s not polite to keep a lady waiting.”

  ****

  Reed was nervous. “What the hell should I take to Harper’s house? I can’t show up empty-handed—especially since I know I want her and Elliott to be a part of my life.”

  He pulled into the lot at Whole Foods and sat in his truck deciding what to pick up. Reed decided on a bottle of wine and a six of his favorite local hard ciders. Thinking about winning over Elliott as he headed to the register, he picked up a pound of gummy worms—Harper had tossed several packages in her bag before he returned her to the hospital.

  After I had my hands and mouth all over her body.

  The memory gave him a semi and he hurried through the store to the registers before scuttling into his truck. His gut was a mess of knots. Apprehension danced along his spine. Shit. Condoms.

  He took in his surroundings and spied a CVS across the street. I’ll leave the condoms in the truck until Elliott is in bed, but then I’ll bring them in—just in case, for the future.

  After the quick in-and-out at the pharmacy, Reed was finally heading toward Harper’s house. While it seemed like it had been forever since he’d seen her, it had actually only been forty minutes.

  Ten minutes later, he pulled into her driveway. Gathering most of his purchases, he paused before exiting his truck. He opened the box of condoms and stuffed three in his pocket. Just in case. A wave of anxiety washed over him, and he closed his eyes, breathing through the rare attack.

  It’s just dinner with a friend and her son. Nothing to be nervous about. He kept repeating the mantra and felt calmer by the time he reached the door and rang the bell.

  His phone vibrated with a text. That you? E is in tub—door open, come in!

  Reed grinned and then responded. Nah. It isn’t me. Just your friendly neighborhood dinner-crasher.

  He opened the door and stood in the entryway orienting himself. He meandered into the kitchen to put the wine and beer in the refrigerator. The gummy worms found a home on the kitchen counter—partially hidden.

  A Crock Pot stood on the stovetop, and he could smell bacon and cheese. He lifted the lid and used the spoon resting on a paper plate on the counter to give it a stir. Broccoli suspended in a creamy, cheesy base with big chunks of bacon made his mouth water.

  Another text arrived. Make yourself at home. We’ll be another ten minutes.

  Reed sent a reply: Want a glass of wine? Or a hard cider?

  Harper’s response was quick: As soon as E is in bed, definitely.

  He grinned and grabbed a bottle of Suicider and used the opener on his keychain, releasing the sweet and spicy aroma. The long pull he took trickled down his throat and settled in his belly, taking away the rest of his nerves.

  He meandered into the family room, where an overstuffed recliner faced the fireplace. To the left, in the corner, was a flat-screen TV. He approached the mantle, admiring the silver picture frame standing next to an officer’s badge and dress hat.

  Harper stood next to a dark-haired man in a bright blue collared shirt and cargo shorts. He held an infant—probably two or three months old. The child’s head was in the man’s palm and he and Harper stared at the child with huge grins across their faces.

  She looked so happy.

  “He was a good man. He would’ve been an amazing father.”

  Reed spun, surprised. “I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have been snooping around.” He took a step toward her.

  “It’s fine. Really. We like to share what we have left of Kane.” Her smile was a little sad, but Reed could tell she was genuine.

  Bare feet slapped against the hardwood floor as Elliott barreled like a freight train down the hallway, launching himself at Reed.

  “Mr. Reed! You’re here!” Elliott wrapped himself around Reed’s legs in a tight hug. “We’re going to have grilled cheese for dinner. It’s my favorite. Momma has some soup, too. She made it earlier, and it smells yummy.”

  Reed ruffled Elliott’s still-wet hair. “It does smell yummy. I can’t wait to have some.”

  The boy released him and took his hand. “C’mon and see my room.” He shook the appendage until Reed started walking.

  “I guess I’ll be with Elliott.” Reed grinned at Harper.

  Her answering smile made his heart beat heavily in his chest.

  “Momma smiles a lot when you’re around. I like it,” Elliott said as they rounded the corner into his room.

  The pale blue walls lent a sense of peace to the boy’s room. In one corner, a pile of blocks rested—as well as several half-constructed treasures. His bed had a denim comforter, and the crisp white pillowcase matched the sheets. Everything in the room was tidy—including that pile of blocks.

  “This is my room.” Elliott pointed to different elements around the room before hopping up on his bed and sitting on the edge.

  Patting the mattress, he said, “Sit down. I want to talk to you.”

  What does a five-year-old need to talk to me about? I don’t know any of the latest kid fads and he’s just going to think I’m lame.

  Reed sat.

  “I wanted to thank you again for the fire station. My favorite part was sitting in the truck with your hat on. That thing is heavy!” Elliott’s eyes grew wide and he grinned.

  “Anytime. Your head feeling okay today? Doesn’t hurt or anything, right?” Reed asked.

  Elliott shook his head. “Only hurts if I touch it like this.” And the boy proceeded to poke his head with his index finger in the same spot over and over.

  Reed leaned forward and whispered, “So don’t touch it like that.” He winked at the child.

  Elliott burst out in a giggle fit that had him rolling on his bed. “I like you, Mr. Reed. Momma likes you, too. I can tell.”

  Reed stood and then said, “I
hope you’re right about that.”

  ****

  Harper uncorked the wine after she’d finished the nominal cleanup from dinner. She poured a large glass, got another bottle of hard cider for Reed, and wandered into the living room where Elliott was reading with Reed and she sat in the wingback chair near the window. She set the brew on the coaster, next to the overstuffed recliner where Reed sat with Elliott squished into the side of the chair, half on the arm.

  Reed fits in so well. And the way he’s so positive as he listens to Elliott read.

  “That word is ‘stuffing’. Like from inside a turkey at Thanksgiving,” Reed said.

  “Oh, okay. Stuffing is yummy, but I don’t like the kind PopPop makes.” The boy continued reading.

  Harper thought about how Elliott would grow as a person—a man—with a good role model around all the time. Maybe Reed is that guy.

  But then, the doubt crept in. Shut that shit down. Reed doesn’t want a ready-made family. He’s young and hot—he shouldn’t be saddled with another man’s kid—no matter how great a kid he is. She needed to protect her heart, because Reed was taking up residence there.

  “Time for bed as soon as you read the end of that story.”

  “Can Mr. Reed do bedtime tonight? I’ll tell him how. You relax.” Elliott scuttled off Reed’s lap and into his mother’s arms. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” Harper said.

  Elliott wiggled free and tore down the hallway. “C’mon, Mr. Reed. You need to spray the monster repellant in my room while I brush my teeth.”

  Chuckling and shaking her head, she rose from her chair. “The monster repellant is under the bathroom sink. Make sure you get under the bed.” She winked.

  “Monster repellant, huh?” Reed asked.

  Harper nodded. “Keeps him happy.” She shrugged.

  “No one told me I’d be slaying monsters tonight. I would’ve brought my cape.”