Playing with Fire

by Rachel Lee

  He waited a moment. “I’m sorry.”

  “No point in being sorry. It’s the way I chose to live. I could have put a halt to this merry-go-round any time after I grew up, but I didn’t. My choice. Now maybe I need to make another choice.”

  “It can be really hard to make a major life change.”

  She lifted her gaze. “Not if you know what you want.”

  He felt her words like an electric shock, then wondered if he was misunderstanding. Their eye contact was palpable, charged with meaning. He opened his mouth to say something, to tell her not to leave. Or ask her what she meant. Before he could decide what to say, she changed the subject. “Enough of my confusion. I vote we go with Lindy’s suggestion for dinner. Easy and uncomplicated. Then tomorrow I’ll go grocery shopping with you and we’ll get the biggest, juiciest steak we can find. I hear from Linda that you grill them.”

  “I do.”

  “And baked potatoes.” She rose and went to the freezer, pulling out the packages. “So, Wayne, when are you going to tell me why those open stall doors trouble you?” He tried to get another look at her eyes, but the shades were down again. Would they ever stay up long enough for him to get inside?

  Chapter 11

  “Let’s talk about it after dinner,” he answered, working to keep his cool. With practiced skill he pulled out the deepest sauté pan and turned on the oven. They’d gotten close to something, and then she’d pulled a disappearing act. For the first time he felt some genuine sympathy for her exes. Guys weren’t necessarily known for their emotional IQ, but to never be allowed to get close? That would be a bigger problem than her travel.

  He’d gotten past that shell a couple of times, but it seemed to snap back fast.

  Dinner was almost ready. He gave the chicken Florentine another stir and checked the timer. The bread would be out of the oven in a minute. He even found a bag of precut salad to go with it, along with some bottled dressing. And he’d included the Parmesan Linda had insisted on, apparently forgetting that he’d been the one who had taught her that. As always, thinking of his daughter made him smile.

  Charity didn’t have any kind of family, no attachments, nobody to make her smile at a simple thought. The pain he felt for her was huge, but if she didn’t stop darting away she’d never have any of it. Danged if he knew how to pin her down, to get her to deal with it. Wasn’t his place anyway.

  Just as the timer dinged, she astonished him. “I’m sorry, Wayne. I did it again.”

  He bent and pulled the baking pan out, putting a split loaf of garlic bread on the counter. “It’s okay.”

  “No, damn it, it’s not okay. Even I can figure out that much. I’ve shared things with you that I’ve never shared with anyone, and then I shut you down? That’s not right.”

  Dealing with people in extreme circumstances, whether from fire or injury or loss, had taught him a thing or two about human nature, but he was acutely aware that right now he was wading in over his head. All he could do was offer honesty. “I didn’t like it.”

  “I know you didn’t. It was awful of me.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. I just didn’t like it. I wanted to hear more about what you were thinking, but you have a right not to tell me.”

  She rose and joined him at the counter, pulling out the cutting board and bread knife, turning the loaf into neatly cut diagonal slices while he spooned the chicken dish into a serving bowl.

  “You know,” she said as she placed the bread on a plate, “a friend of mine went to see a psychologist years ago, and he told her she needed to learn to set boundaries. And you know what she said to me?”

  “What?”

  “That I had boundaries so high she envied me. I’m not feeling enviable right now.”

  “You told me how rootless you were as a child. Is it because of that?”

  “My boundaries? Maybe. Maybe not. At this late date it would probably take a shrink several years to figure it out. Doesn’t matter anyway. Regardless of what caused it, this is how I am. And the way I am is always on the run.”

  He put the bowl on the table. “What are you running from, Charity? Seriously. Are there monsters outside, or are they inside?”

  She tilted her head, her gaze growing distant as she thought about what he was asking. “I don’t know. I’ve asked myself.”

  She’d forgotten the bread, so he reached for the plate and put it on the table beside the salad and the chicken. As if coming back to herself, she took the plates and silverware he’d set on the counter earlier and placed them on the table.

  “What am I running from?” she repeated as they sat. “Good question. I know what I was afraid of when I was a kid, but I’m not a kid anymore. I’m not so sure I was running back then as much as assuming a self-protective crouch. But I’m an adult now, and I’m running. Honestly, I don’t know if I’m afraid of the monsters outside or the ones inside.”

  He paused as he passed her the bowl of chicken. “I can’t imagine that you have any monsters inside of you...unless it’s fear.”

  She nodded slowly, and served herself just as slowly. “I think it is fear. Fear of being hurt. It’s easier to keep moving than to risk it. Don’t let anyone in, don’t settle, just hide behind my walls. God, what an image of myself!”

  “I doubt you’re alone in that.”

  She gave him a crooked smile. “Are you always so positive?”

  “Not always,” he admitted. “But you’re being awfully hard on yourself. I get the feeling you want to change your life. That could be a great thing. But beating yourself up accomplishes nothing, don’t you think?”

  “Unless it motivates me to make some changes, it’s useless.”

  “Exactly.”

  “This Florentine is good,” she remarked.

  He waited, wondering whether she would dart behind the wall of work-related subjects again or open up more. He hoped she opened up. Discussing the Buell fire would hold for morning. And on that subject he now had some serious doubts raging in his head. He suspected she did, too. For that reason alone he wanted to leave it for morning.

  “So you get weekends off?” she asked.

  “Not always, but I tried to set it up that way after Lisa left because I wanted the time with Lindy. Now she doesn’t need me on weekends anymore, so maybe I should pick up some of the slack I’ve created and let Ken have more weekends.”

  “He’s like your assistant chief?”

  “Like. He doesn’t get the title, but I managed to get him a raise as alternate incident commander. He could do better in another town, but so far he claims he’s happy with the way things are.” And here they were talking business again. Frustrated though he felt, he knew he had to let her take this at her own speed.

  “He seems like a great guy. They all seem like great guys.”

  “We’re fortunate. We have a team of friends, not just colleagues.”

  She nodded, eating slowly. “It must be hard to have them trying to cut your budget every year.”

  “Not every year. They push, I shove back. Unfortunately, with all the arsons this year, they may be questioning our ability to keep a lid on things. They may think we should be able to solve the arsons, or prevent them somehow. So they’ll push some more. They may try to funnel some of our money elsewhere if they think it could do more good, like to the sheriff.”

  She looked up. “If we had a firefighter arsonist, I wonder if he’s thought of that. I mean, if he wanted more dollars in the budget and thought he could get them by having more fires, it could backfire.”

  “Distinct possibility. Especially if we can’t catch him.”

  “Yeah.” She looked down again, ate some more chicken and nibbled at her garlic bread and salad.

  Wayne studied her, trying not to stare, but wishing he could read her mind. Wo
uld anyone ever know what was truly going on inside this woman? He doubted he’d ever met anyone as self-contained.

  “Why are you going to the drill on Monday?” he asked point-blank.

  She blinked, looking a bit startled. “I told you, I miss it.”

  He shook his head. “It’s more than that. Are you hoping someone will take another stab at killing you?”

  “I’m not suicidal!”

  “You were the one who said you ought to hang around because the only way we’re likely to get this guy is if he slips up. You said you needed to dangle yourself like bait.”

  Her answer was dry. “I’m hardly dangling myself when I’m so completely not alone. In fact, I seem to be highly protected.”

  “And you’re going to stay protected. If you drill in the burn room, I’m going to stay right beside you every step.”

  “I kinda somehow thought you would. You’re a very protective man, Chief.”

  “And I don’t think you know how to take care of yourself very well.”

  He might as well have thrown gasoline on hot embers. She jumped up from the table, throwing down her napkin. “You can go to hell!”

  “Somehow I think that’s where you intend to send me when you leave.”

  But he was talking to her departing back. What had possessed him to throw that gauntlet? But he knew. Wanting filled him like a raging storm, wanting something he knew he could never have. He was banging around, trying to open a door to reach her, and she kept locking him out. Somehow, he’d reached his own point of no return. Frustration had goaded him into stupidity, something he usually never let happen.

  He rose, too, and found her dressed, pulling her suitcase and carrying her laptop toward the front door.

  “Running again?” he asked quietly.

  “What do you care?”

  “Just happen to.”

  “Right.”

  He reached her in two strides, taking the laptop and suitcase from her. “Call the cops and tell them I’m holding you prisoner, ’cause, sweetie, you ain’t going anywhere.”

  “I will!”

  “Sure. Be my guest. They’ll probably laugh themselves silly, but I won’t let you out that door alone. Wanna leave town? Fine, I’ll put you on the plane myself. At least I’ll be sure you’re safe.”

  She glared at him, her hazel eyes turning almost green with her anger. He didn’t know what exactly was going on here, but he suspected she was feeling threatened by the growing closeness between them. At least he hoped she was. If he was scaring her in some other way, then he deserved to be damned.

  “You don’t have the right,” she insisted hotly.

  “Nope. But I’m giving it to myself.”

  “You are...you are...” She appeared to be winding up to dump a pile of insults on his head, but then with startling suddenness, her shoulders drooped and she seemed to collapse in on herself.

  He dropped her laptop on the armchair, letting her bag fall to the floor. Then before she could say or do a thing, he wrapped her in a bear hug so tight he was surprised she didn’t squeak. At first she stiffened, and he could feel her impulse to break free. But at last she began to soften, and finally just sagged in his arms.

  “Wayne,” she whispered.

  “I’m here.”

  “I think I’m losing my mind.”

  “I think you’re waking up.” For a fireman, she was a light load, and he picked her right up, one arm behind her shoulders, the other behind her knees. He carried her to the couch and sat with her on his lap. He cradled her head on his shoulder, rubbing her hip soothingly.

  Whatever happened, she needed to deal with her demons. He just hoped he could help, even though some passionate demons of his own demanded a hearing.

  She didn’t cry, but he could feel ripples of tension run through her and then release. Holding her seemed to be all he could do.

  “I’m scared,” she whispered finally.

  “Of what? The killer? Me?”

  “Me. Scared of myself.”

  Once again he had to wait, but the words finally emerged, small and quiet. “Everything good in my life, every single thing, I’ve managed to break.”

  Her words startled him. He got that she couldn’t put down roots, but what was she leading to here? He waited again, sensing that she’d talk when she was ready. At least she wasn’t fighting him.

  “I don’t just run,” she said. “I break. I’ve broken several good relationships with men. I didn’t think about doing it, didn’t plan it, but I look back and see what I did wrong. How I pushed it until it snapped. Firefighting. I loved it, Wayne, but as soon as they wanted to hire me, I broke that, too. I just walked away and said something to the chief that made sure he’d never want me back.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I can barely remember now. Something about how I had better things to do. It was enough.”

  “Okay.” He got it. That would be enough.

  Another shudder passed through her. “Why would anyone put up with me? Of course no one can. I’ve broken off friendships when I sensed I was getting too close. It would be one thing if I just packed and moved on but I do more than that. I make sure no one will ever call or write. I clear the decks. That’s what I do.”

  “All right.”

  “All right?” Her voice came out reedy. “That’s not all right. It’s not normal. I see normal all around me, and I know that’s not me. Stay away from me, Wayne. I’m not worth the time of day.”

  “I can’t agree with that.” His heart was heavy with pain for her, but he couldn’t accept that. “It might be hard, but you can change. Just take one little step at a time.”

  “Right.” She shook her head against his shoulder. “You could be my first experiment. Are you ready for that? Are you ready for what I might do?”

  “Been there, done that,” he said. “I survived. I wouldn’t be dancing for joy, obviously, but I know I can survive, Charity. If you want to try breaking out, try it with someone who understands what’s going on inside you. You already told me to go to hell. I didn’t let you leave.”

  At that something that felt almost like a short, silent laugh passed through her. “Right. You’re going to keep me prisoner.”

  “I wouldn’t give up without a fight. That’s different.”

  She sighed, and at last he felt true relaxation as her body weighed heavily against him. “Well, I think I got it all out,” she said after a few minutes. “Amazing I have to thank an arsonist for making me face myself.”

  “Sometimes it takes something that big. You know that. Question is, what do you want to do about it? Anything?”

  At that moment she pulled back a little. He turned his head and found her looking straight at him. “I know what I want right now. Question is, do you want to take the risk?”

  “I’m a born risk taker,” he said with perfect truth. On the outside he might look like a settled small-town guy, but then there was the other man, the man who ran toward fire rather than away from it. Right now, she was the blaze he was facing, and the stakes were high. She wouldn’t leave him dead, but she could leave him wounded.

  She lifted her hand and cupped his cheek. “Brave man,” she said.

  He didn’t think so. She reminded him of a mare that had never learned to trust. Not that he wanted to tame her, but she needed a gentle hand and an awful lot of patience until she could settle without fear. He didn’t know if she’d give him the chance to offer her that, but he was damned if he was going to end this without trying to find out.

  Of one thing he was certain, though. She had trusted him more than she had probably ever trusted anyone else. It had to be hard to self-examine this way. Well, of course it was. He’d done it during the time after Lisa had left him. Lots of miserable self-evaluation and
reevaluation. Painful and difficult.

  All he could do was hold her, surround her in his arms and let her know that he wasn’t going to pull away or dismiss her because of her feelings and self-discovery. What else could any mortal do, other than be supportive?

  “How do you get through this?” she asked almost to herself.

  “One step at a time, like anything else.” Cheap psychology, but he didn’t know any other answer for her. “Or you can toss it all out and return to life as usual.”

  “I’m strangely reluctant to do that,” she admitted. “It wasn’t much of a life. I kept busy because I didn’t have a life. Funny how almost losing it makes me want more of it.”

  He hesitated, then said, “Which I guess brings us back to this whole thing about you dangling yourself out there. Charity...”

  She laid a finger over his lips. “Like I said, I don’t seem to be doing much dangling, thanks to you. But let’s not go there right now.”

  “Where do you want to go?”

  “Straight to bed with you.”

  * * *

  The Fourth of July couldn’t have any more fireworks than the ones going off in Wayne’s head and body. Charity stripped for him again as they stood beside his bed. Her lack of self-consciousness surprised him, as much as he enjoyed watching her reveal all her delightful secrets. No apologies, no hesitation, no sense that she doubted her own attractiveness as a woman.

  When she was naked, she lowered herself to his bed and leaned back, everything about her appearing calm, almost casual.

  Her lack of hesitation troubled him in some way. Even as he reached for the buttons of his shirt, he paused, bothered. Had she somehow managed to lock herself behind walls so high that she didn’t have the doubts most women had about whether a man would find her beautiful? Because she surely was beautiful, comfortable in her nudity in an unexpected way.

  Or perhaps she didn’t care. Maybe she had learned not to care. Or worse, had she gone into some cave inside herself where nothing could reach her? As if she was offering her body like a sacrifice while the rest of her departed to somewhere safer? Was she even really here with him?