Sweet Southern Nights (Home In Magnolia Bend Book 3)

by Liz Talley

  “Sure. But I already told Clint I’d meet him there.” She worked out with Jake’s childhood friend several times a week. Though Clint was in a wheelchair, he was a gym rat.

  “That’s cool. I can pick him up and head to Ray-Ray’s from there.”

  She and Jake were on C shift and had been since she’d started three years ago. She’d transferred in from Baton Rouge FD with six years under her belt. Jake had the exact same number of years’ experience and an easy way about him. Captain Sorrento had put them on the same shift, and they’d pretty much stayed together unless someone was on vacation.

  Jake was probably her absolute best friend.

  And he had no idea she’d fallen head over heels for him the first time she laid eyes on him.

  “Perfect,” she said, pulling his tag off the clip on the cone and handing it to him. “I’ll be glad to kick your ass again.”

  “Pfft,” Jake scoffed, rolling those pretty eyes before tossing his bunker coat in the back and grabbing the nearest hose. “You kickbox like a girl.”

  “Damn right.”

  “Which means she fights dirty,” Moon snickered, lifting the ladder back into place.

  Jake glanced up, cracking a smile, making Eva’s heart skip a beat. Why did the man have to be so gorgeous? Why did his T-shirt have to cling so spectacularly to his torso? Why did—

  The radio crackled, distracting her, as Martin relayed that the apartment was clear. Time to clear the scene.

  Eva tugged off her helmet and bunker coat and found a pen. Normally, she’d help stow the equipment, but since Hank had pulled her around front and several volunteer firemen had arrived to assist, she filled in the paperwork normally done by the driver. Might as well save Hank some time and earn her some brownie points. With Wendell contemplating retirement in order to run a yard service full-time, Eva wanted to make captain.

  Only Jake stood in her way.

  And that was a huge problem.

  Not because she loved Jake, but because he deserved the promotion as much as she did.

  And she might get it over him just because she didn’t have a penis—which didn’t sit well with her. Not the not having a penis part—she really didn’t want one—but that she’d get the job not based on merit but rather on her gender. The word token flitted through her mind again.

  “Hey, miss.”

  Eva ripped her gaze from the paperwork fluttering on the clipboard to find Kiki standing beside her. “Hey, Kiki. You need me?”

  “I’m just worried about Zeke.”

  Zeke? Who was that? A cat? Eva had forgotten to ask about pets. “Who’s Zeke?”

  “He lives in 30A. He’s only eight.”

  Eva grabbed her mic. “Did we clear 30A?”

  “No occupants detected. All secure,” Hank responded.

  Eva looked at Kiki. “We didn’t find anyone.”

  “Well, he ain’t gonna answer. He ain’t supposed to be home. He said he was gonna stay home because Jarvis Bell said he was gonna whip his ass for telling Mrs. Haydell he cheated on his spelling test. His Big Mama will whoop him good if she knows he’s home.” Kiki looked at the closed door of the apartment housed next door to hers.

  “Christ,” Eva breathed, grabbing her mask and attaching her accountability tag to the PVC pipe atop the cone. “Stay here, Kiki.”

  Eva ran toward the closed apartment, calling into her mic. “FD2, reassessing apartment A. Resident indicates possible child on the premises.”

  “Shit,” Hank shouted.

  Eva pulled on her gloves and connected the mask to the tank, sucking in the cool oxygen. She hopped onto the porch stoop and tried the front door—it was locked. Behind her she saw Jake and Martin coming toward her with the battering ram in hand.

  Eva eyed the flimsy doorknob.

  Then she kicked in the door. The wood of the jamb splintered and the door flew back, slamming against the interior wall. The apartment revealed in the morning light showed a place that was definitely lived-in, with breakfast dishes piled in the dated kitchen sink and a tired tweed green couch covered in laundry.

  No active smoke.

  Eva pulled off her mask, sucking in the acrid smell. “Zeke?”

  No answer.

  “Jesus, Eva. We had the beast,” Jake said behind her. “But nice kick.”

  She didn’t say anything. Just moved toward the dark yawn of the hallway.

  “Zeke?” she shouted again.

  The heat in the apartment wasn’t a result of the fire they’d extinguished next door. The combination of a humid August and the heavy bunker gear she wore made Eva feel as if she’d entered the mouth of hell. She flung open the first door she came to—an empty room with a floral bedspread and lace curtains.

  She motioned Jake inside as she stepped toward the other bedroom.

  The door stood open, a huge fathead of some basketball player dominating one wall. A small unmade twin bed sat in one corner; pajamas and tennis shoes littered the carpet.

  “Zeke?” she called.

  From the open closet a head emerged. Two big brown eyes, popped wide, met her gaze.

  “Zeke?” she asked, softening her voice.

  “Yeah?”

  Eva released a pent-up breath of relief. “What are you still doing inside? Don’t you know there was a fire next door?”

  He crawled out, a small Matchbox car rolling as he emerged from the depths. “I don’t wanna get in trouble.”

  Zeke looked about eight years old with closely shorn hair, gorgeous chocolate skin and—Lord help her—the cutest dimples she may have ever seen. “Trouble smouble. No one stays in a burning house.”

  “Y’all put it out,” he said, shuffling toward her. His feet were bare, and he wore only a pair of faded athletic shorts that clung to his small hips.

  Jake appeared at her shoulder. “Jesus. He was in here the whole time?”

  “Yeah.” Eva toed the tennis shoes toward Zeke, nodding her head for him to slip them on. “Chief is gonna freak. Who was supposed to clear?”

  Martin appeared in the room, looking like a thundercloud. “I did. Front door was unlocked and I came in each room. Even opened the closets. Never saw him. Cleared it and locked the front door, you know, outta courtesy.” Martin glowered at the boy, who studied the shoelaces he’d just tied sloppily. “Young man, why didn’t you answer me when I called out?”

  The little boy didn’t look up. “’Cause you’re a stranger, and I ain’t supposed to talk to strangers.”

  Eva slid her gaze over to meet Jake’s laughing eyes. She tried not to smile, but her lips twitched in spite of herself.

  Martin grumped. “So she’s not a stranger?”

  “She knew my name,” Zeke said, shrugging thin shoulders. He looked up and tilted his head. “’Sides, I seen her on the field trip. She let us climb on the fire truck.”

  “Pfft,” Martin said, turning around and trudging toward the front of the house, muttering under his breath things no eight-year-old needed to hear.

  “Come on, Zeke. We need to call your grandmother,” Eva said.

  “No. She’s gonna whoop me good. I ain’t supposed to be here. I faked getting on the bus.”

  “You’ll have to deal with those repercussions. Even without a fire next door, you put yourself in danger. Small boys cannot stay home by themselves.” Eva placed a hand on his shoulder and steered him toward the front door.

  “I’m gonna get a whoopin’ either way, I guess,” the boy said, his shoulders slumping.

  “Maybe not,” Eva said, glancing over her shoulder at Jake, who watched the boy with a grin. She was about to go on about how Zeke could have been injured or even killed, but then when she looked back at the forlorn boy, who wagged his head, looking resigned to dealing with his grandmother, she zipped her lips.

  “Oh, I’m gonna get it, all right. Big Mama don’t forget. But I’m glad you saved me anyway.”

  Eva pressed her lips tightly to keep from laughing. Damn, the kid was cute.

/>   Eva turned the child over to Chief Blume, who stood with Glory and Kiki. Glory renewed her waterworks after clutching Zeke tightly and groaning about how stupid the boy had been.

  Eva slid the on-scene report into the binder filled with preplans for all the municipal buildings and businesses in the small town and then decided to help the rest of her team put away the gear. She’d just grabbed her accountability tag when Cole sauntered up, grinning like a kid at a fireworks stand. “Well, looka’ here. If it isn’t the hottest fireman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

  “You don’t get around much. Not surprised, since you’re such a mama’s boy,” Eva returned, lifting her eyebrows, silently inquiring whether her favorite cop wanted to keep going toe-to-toe with her.

  Cole laughed. “Call me pretty boy again and I’ll file a complaint.” He pretended to fluff nonexistent hair. Cole had gone prematurely bald at twenty-five and now shaved his head smooth. But he was pretty nonetheless. And absolutely gay. Not that anyone besides her and his brother knew. Cole swore he’d bolted the closet shut the minute he was sworn in as a police officer in Magnolia Bend.

  “I said mama’s boy.”

  “Oh, well. That’s true,” he cracked, lifting his foam cup in a mocking toast.

  “How they hangin’?” Jake said to Cole as he extended his fist. He handed Eva one of the bottles of water he carried in his other hand.

  “What’s up, Jake?” Cole asked, popping his knuckles against Jake’s.

  “Just puttin’ out fires,” Jake said, jerking his head toward the apartment before sending a devilish grin Eva’s way. “Someone’s gotta do it.”

  This time her glove wasn’t in the way of the finger she shot Jake.

  Cole laughed. “She’s gonna kick your ass for that.”

  “Yeah, she thinks she is, but ol’ Jake Beauchamp’s got a little something left in the tank,” Jake cracked, wiggling his eyebrows at Eva.

  “I’m surrounded by the deluded,” Eva said, rolling her eyes.

  “Gotta skedaddle. I’m meeting Chase out at Jennings. Someone’s been stealing copper out of their units,” Cole said, tossing the cup toward the trash cans standing sentry at the end of the driveway.

  “Oh? Usually you’re investigating the doughnuts over at PattyAnns,” Eva called.

  Cole mimicked a gun firing with a finger and thumb and staggered back toward his cruiser. “You got me,” he said with a flirty wink before sliding back into the car.

  She and Jake stood for a minute, sucking down water and watching as Cole pulled away. He issued a wave and then hit the siren once as he rolled away.

  “I think he’s in love with you,” Jake said, turning back toward the duplex.

  “I’m pretty sure he isn’t,” she said.

  “Because of Chase?” He made a face just uttering her ex-boyfriend’s name. Jake wasn’t a fan of Chase’s. They’d gone to school together, competing against each other for starting linebacker…and for who got to date the prettiest cheerleader. When Eva had broken things off with Chase, Jake had gotten a little easier to be around. She’d like to think it was because deep down underneath his playboy image, he carried a small torch for her. But she knew that wasn’t the reason. Jake had just gotten tired of Chase always hedging in on their gym time together, trying to outlift him.

  “Yeah. Something like that,” she said, emptying the rest of the bottle.

  “Hey, Wendell put in his papers. His wife’s gonna throw him a retirement party next month. Guess it’s official.” Jake took her empty bottle and walked it over to the trash can.

  “What is?” she said.

  Jake smiled against the sun peeking over the top of the trees, his auburn hair glowing like embers. His bright blue eyes, strong jaw and white teeth prominent against his tanned skin. He looked like pure sex. Like the kind of guy who knew right where to place his lips, right where to stroke, right where to tease. He was like a walking fantasy—teenaged heartthrob, rock ’n’ roll drummer and dangerous outlaw rolled into one. “That I get to arm wrestle you for the captain’s spot.”

  Eva laughed and chucked him on the chin. “Give it your best shot, Maverick.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE SCENE AT Ray-Ray’s was the same. It was always the same.

  Jake peeled the label from his NOLA beer and watched as his older brother, Matt, threw darts with one of the teachers from the school where Matt was principal. Jake couldn’t remember the older guy’s name. Only that he was from Oregon and drank Johnnie Walker Black Label.

  Across from Jake sat the guy he’d talked into peeing on an electric fence when they were eleven years old, the guy he’d caught his first bass with, the guy who’d stolen his old man’s cigarettes and shared them with Jake. Clint Cochran had been his best bud only since forever, and every week Jake picked him up and sat with him at a table while he nursed a gin and tonic.

  “What’s wrong?” Clint said after several minutes of them listening to Trace Adkins belt out a tune. His friend took a sip of his drink, and Jake noticed how big Clint’s biceps had gotten. All his gym work with Eva had paid off…as had the fact that Clint had to heft himself into bed, to the toilet and into the car. It took tremendous strength to move the bulk of his lower half around.

  “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “It’s this town, isn’t it?” Clint asked, his dark eyes searching his for some weakness, hoping Jake would finally crack. It was a game they played sometimes, a guilt-riddled, smoldering resentment of a game.

  “Nah. Why would it be the town?”

  “’Cause you’ve been here all your life and you’re sick of it. Hell, you’ve dated every woman within twenty miles and could drive the streets blindfolded. You’re done.”

  Clint wanted Jake to admit he hated Magnolia Bend. He wanted Jake to say he was only here because he felt guilty. That if Clint hadn’t been paralyzed ten years ago that Jake would be in LA or Chicago or even Baton Rouge. That he’d be anywhere but at a run-down bar, eating stale pretzels and babysitting a cripple.

  But Jake would never say that…even if sometimes it felt true.

  “I’m not sick of it. I could be the goddamn mayor if I wanted. Right here is a walking poster for tourism.” Jake thumped his chest, trying to summon lightness.

  “Hell, yeah, it is. I’d take a tour,” Vicky Barrett drawled, twirling a piece of hair over his ear before sinking down on the empty chair to Jake’s right. “What you boys got on tap tonight?”

  “Well, I’m thinking about doing a couple of shots, dancing the two-step with a sexy lady and then getting laid,” Clint said with a wry laugh before looking down at his withered legs. “No, wait. I forgot.”

  Vicky laughed and the sound grated on Jake’s nerves. “You’re such a hoot, Clint. And hell, you don’t need legs for two of those things.”

  Jake didn’t say anything because Clint’s being in a wheelchair—no matter whether he could joke about it or not—would never be funny to him.

  Never.

  Clint knew that, but his friend danced on the edge tonight. He wanted a fight with Jake, but Jake wasn’t picking up what Clint was laying down. Been there, done that, hated himself for it.

  The door to the bar opened, and Eva walked in accompanied by her friend Jenny, who worked for the sheriff’s department. He raised a hand, noting that Jenny looked pretty damn good in her tight jeans and halter top. He’d actually dated her back in the day. Maybe it was time to get reacquainted with the lithe Jenny, who if he remembered correctly made a good omelet and insisted on brushing her teeth before kissing him good morning.

  Eva had her hair up, with hoop earrings that brushed her long neck. She wore a T-shirt that stretched her broad shoulders, framing a nice rack. Her shorts were a bit too short. He didn’t like her showing off her long legs any more than he’d like his sister, Abigail, doing so. No need to advertise the goods. He waved an arm and Eva inclined her head, giving Jenny a little push in the right direction.

  Vicky noticed and frowned.

&nb
sp; “What’s up, ladies?” Jake said, scooting his chair back and grabbing an empty one from the table behind him. He smiled at Jenny and patted the chair. “Have a seat.”

  Eva rolled her eyes, snagged another chair from behind her and sank down next to Clint. “Hey, Clint. How’re things?”

  Clint shrugged but his eyes lit up at the sight of Eva. “Same ol’ same old. Nothing’s changed since I saw you three hours ago. Or from yesterday when you stopped by with those brownies for Dad. They were good, by the way.”

  “You know I didn’t bake them, right?”

  “Duh,” he said, flashing a smile that made Jake’s heart ache. He’d seen that smile a million times…just not from the man currently in the state-of-the-art wheelchair. That smile was like a whisper of the past sliding past him.

  “What’ll you have?” Jake asked Jenny as her leg brushed his, tearing his mind away from the maudlin. She smelled good—like wildflowers or some other crap women liked to slather themselves with. She wore a push-up bra that lifted her small breasts, creating a delicious valley for his perusal. He jerked his gaze away and lifted his eyes, meeting Eva’s. She mouthed “pervert” and he grinned. Hell, if Jenny wanted to show them off, he was obligated to look.

  “I’ll take a glass of white wine,” Jenny said, grabbing a napkin to spit her gum in.

  A tired waitress trudged toward them. “What’ll it be?”

  Jake took out two twenties. “White wine for Jenny, a Miller Lite each for Eva and Vicky and another round for me and Clint.”

  “You don’t have to pay for my drink, Jake. I got my own, Bonnie,” Eva said.

  “Ah, let him,” Bonnie growled before trudging back to the bar.

  The place was only half-filled because it was Thursday night and just barely eight thirty. Things would pick up closer to ten, but by that time Jake usually had Clint in the car heading back to Duck Blind Bayou and the custom-built, handicap-friendly lake house where his friend lived with his father. These nights with Clint were obligation nights. Not nights to pick up women or forget the clock. He could only lay the groundwork for something more with Jenny later.