A deep color flushed her face telling him that she wasn’t used to compliments. “Well, I guess it beats pink pajamas with big lips on them. What’s in the basket? Did you bring your laundry for me to do?”
It was Cy’s turn to blush as he felt heat rush to the tips of his ears. “Ah...I told Sally I wanted to get flowers.” He handed Mia the plastic basket.
“Sally?”
“She’s a friend, a paramedic,” Cy said handing over the basket. “Sally helped raise me. She thought I could get a few things to replace what you lost in the fire.” The basket was filled with hangers, laundry soap, a set of sheets, and some household odds and ends. “I wanted to get you flowers,” Cy repeated and shifted uncomfortably.
Mia ran her hand over the smooth plastic container. “No.” She smiled and placed the basket on the floor. “This is much better than flowers.”
“Are you ready for spaghetti? Let’s go.” He held out his hand, but she shoved hers into the pockets of her sundress. “I even cleaned off the front seat of my truck just for you.”
****
The 1950 Ford pickup chugged down the narrow two-lane road. Cy left his sunglasses on so it wasn’t obvious he was watching her out of the corner of his eye. Mia tipped her head toward the window, -where the cool summer breeze blew across her face and ruffled through her hair.
“This truck is great,” Mia commented. “It’s in such good condition.”
“Thanks. That wasn’t always the case. When my dad couldn’t drive any longer, I ended up with it. He’d wanted to be the one who fixed it up, but after my mom died, he injured his back in a logging accident. He never did much of anything after that other than drink.” Cy shook his head and grasped the steering wheel tighter.
This was way too much information for a first date. Why had he felt the need to talk about his screwed up family? That was a great way to scare someone off in a hurry.
“Instead of my dad’s project, the truck turned into mine. When I’d get a little extra money, or time off from school, I’d buy another part. Little by little, it came together. I finally saved up enough a few months ago to get it painted. Before that, I’d spent years driving it around town in a lovely shade of grey primer. Everyone knew me. When I finally got it painted, it took a few people by surprise. Do you like the color?”
Mia nodded. “It’s a great shade.”
“They call it ʻfire engine red.’” He shot her a smile. “Imagine that. I’m a little partial to red trucks.”
****
He wanted to run his hand across the seat and feel the warmth of her fingers as he spun the truck into the graveled parking lot of the Grange Hall. He got out and stepped around to open Mia’s door, but didn’t reach for her hand.
The hall was large and old, with scraped hardwood floors and high beam ceilings. Canned country music played from dusty ancient, upright speakers and little children danced a combination of the Macarena and the bunny hop on the floor. Paper streamers and balloons floated around adding festive color.
Cy sensed Mia’s hesitation since she didn’t move forward. “Come on, you’re going to have a good time.” He wasn’t sure he was convincing her of that fact.
She’d pulled a thin, white cotton sweater over her sundress. She had beautiful shoulders, making him wish she’d left it off. He took her carefully by the elbow and began to weave through the crowd.
What she’d told him was true. She definitely didn’t like crowds. Her body tensed as more people filled in around them.
“Hey, Cy. Where ya been buddy.” There was a hard slap on his shoulder as he turned to see his friend behind him.
“Mario. This is Mia.” He introduced her, watching Mario’s eyes as they skimmed slowly up and down her body. Cy stepped closer, his shoulder touching Mia’s. He knew Mario did this with every woman he met. Young, old, fat, thin, they were still women, and Mario liked all women. But tonight Cy didn’t like it.
Mario stuck his hand toward Mia, but she retreated behind Cy.
“She doesn’t shake hands,” Cy said in her defense. “Where’s this spaghetti we’re supposed to be serving? What? You couldn’t start without me?”
He turned toward Mia. “Go through the food line and I’ll be done in about half an hour. Just hang out for a bit and listen to the great music.” He smiled but felt her arm stiffen beneath his grasp. “I know there are a lot of people here. But I know all of them and they’re good people.” He paused. “Will you be okay?”
Mario was already pulling him toward the kitchen and Cy stumbled trying to walk and talk over his shoulder at the same time. “Better yet, wait for me. We’ll eat together, okay?” He watched her eyes dart from person to person as he retreated.
****
Cy smiled and scooped noodles and spaghetti sauce from a pan in a steam table onto the paper plates in front of him.
“She’s a looker!” Mario leaned close, following his comment with a whistle. “Doesn’t she work at my brother’s restaurant?”
“Yeah, she does,” Cy said, “and her house was the one that burned last weekend on Corbin Street.”
“Damn. No kidding. I thought she looked familiar. How’d you manage to hook up with her?”
“I didn’t hook up with her. I went over to make sure she was all right.”
“Well she looks all right to me.” Mario laid a piece of garlic bread on the next plate as Cy glared at him.
Mario smiled. “Now that's a new look for you. I know when I’ve just stepped into another man’s territory and I definitely did right there. So my friend’s got a little thing going on the side he hasn’t mentioned?”
“Shut up and serve your bread.”
****
Cy tried to get away from his serving duties, but the line only seemed to get longer and longer. Ben’s kid had been sick and he’d called on his cell phone to say he wouldn’t be able to relieve him.
He gazed around the room and saw Mia standing off in a far corner. She looked miserable. He knew she didn’t like crowds, so what had possessed him to bring her here on their -“first date”? Some kind of date this had turned out to be.
Another bad idea. He seemed to be the king of them.
An older woman stepped in front of him. He looked at her. “Cy Brennon. My, you have turned into such a fine, handsome young man. Do you remember me?”
Cy smiled and dropped spaghetti onto her plate. “Of course I do, Mrs. Neustrom. You were my favorite third-grade teacher. How are you? You look wonderful.”
“Thanks,” she said, the flattery lighting her wrinkled face. “Do you remember my granddaughter, Lizzy? I think the two of you would be perfect together.” She drew out the words.
Cy tried to hold his smile, but it was faltering as he fought not to roll his eyes. He’d forgotten that the Grange Hall get-togethers were Klahowya’s version of the -Match.com. Complete with your ex-third-grade teacher trying to fix you up with her granddaughter. He knew Lizzy. She was a nice enough girl. But Cy also remembered her from junior high wearing braces, a Jonas brothers -T-shirt, and making fun -of him because of his dad. The kids loved to drag him through the mud his father created.
“I’ll stop by the firehouse and bring you some of my world-famous banana bread—and Lizzy’s phone number.”
“Sure.” It was the answer and the only thing he could do to get her to move on. “Good to see you again.”
Cy looked to where Mia had been standing, but she wasn’t there. He scanned the room. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath. Mia was gone.
****
Mia watched as Cy came through the door and down the back steps. He balanced two thin paper plates of spaghetti as he kicked the door shut with his foot.
He smiled when he spotted her on a swing in the middle of the playground. “I figured you’d gotten tired of waiting and took off. When you’re working with volunteers it’s always hard to fire them, or leave them in the middle of work that still needs to be done.”
He handed her a plate, an
d then sat in the sand in front of her, crossing his long legs to balance the plate on his knees. “I’m really sorry it took so long, but I told you I would be good for a plate of spaghetti. A person could starve waiting for me. I promise, after this, I’ll only take you to the finest places.” His brown curls flopped down over one eye when he dipped his head to shove the first bite in his mouth with a plastic fork.
“It’s okay. It’s nice out here, no people. I like that.” Mia watched him as he savored each bite off his plate.
“Standing over a steaming chaffer pan for an hour in a hot, stuffy room is a little brutal, but I heard the family raised three-thousand dollars from door receipts and donations, so it made it worthwhile.”
“Most people are all talk.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, they all have their causes and talk about people who need a hand up, but they’re never willing to part with their time or money to do anything. You’re a good man. You’re willing to do things that make a difference.” Mia took a bite and then placed her plate on the ground.
“It makes me feel good when I help people.”
“Ahhh, now it’s clear. Is that why you’re here with me?” Irritation edged into her voice. “You’re sorry that my house burned down and so you’re helping me? It’s some sense of duty you’re feeling?”
Mia rose to her feet and kicked off her sandals. The coarse grains sifted beneath her toes as she dug them into the playground sand. She brushed her hands down the front of her dress to get off the last crumbs of garlic bread.
Cy leaned back on his muscled arms. “Did you think that maybe the reason I'm here with you tonight is that I wanted to spend some time getting to know you? It doesn’t have anything to do with the fire. My ‘duty’ was back there a few minutes ago in the Grange Hall raising money for that little kid, and hell, that wasn’t duty either.”
She could tell she’d hurt him. His eyes reflected so clearly what he was feeling and his emotions radiated off him.
“My mistake,” he said shortly. “I thought you might want to be here with me tonight.”
It was hard for her to talk with someone. Mia had no experience in sharing her feelings, there had never been anyone but herself. It was easier that way. No strings. No ties. No danger of the unknown. She didn’t know how to handle this “caring.”
Eerily, as if he’d read her mind, Cy said, “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Mia shot him a glance and turned her back. She rubbed her hands briskly up and down her arms as a breeze blew across her heated skin. She could feel the building of the power again, as waves of emotions emanated from Cy that she fought to block. They were strong like the night the fire happened at her house.
She walked a few steps to put some distance between them and sat on the rough, pine cut planks that lined the playground. “You can hear the music even out here,” she commented, abstractedly looking back at the festive colored lights through the dusty, grange hall windows.
She heard a crush of gravel telling her he was close behind. Her body was drawn to his by an invisible pull.
“Dance with me?” Cy asked in a deep voice leaning to whisper in her ear. His hand scorched through the thin cotton of her sweatered arm, soothing, stroking, gently up and down.
She swiveled to face him. “No, I can’t…I...” Mia tried to force herself away, but instead, her traitorous feet stepped into the pull of his arms.
His large hand slid around her torso, and then down her back into the hollow of her spine, pulling her close. His eyes had changed to a deeper shade of blue in the twilight of the night as he raised his hand from her back to glide smoothly down her hair.
“Cy?” she whispered, question in her voice even though she knew what he planned to do. She needed to stop him.
Mia blinked her eyes hard, bracing herself against the sway of his body. The music lulled her with its distant tune. It felt so good, right, so real. She rested her cheek against the warmth of his broad chest and heard the pulse of his strong heartbeat take her away.
“I know it sounds like the oldest line in the book, but I can't stop thinking about you. Ever since that night,” Cy broke through her trance as he spoke. He tipped his head and breathed deep. “You smell so damn good.” His charged words made her body clench. “I want to kiss you so bad I can taste it.”
He watched her for a second. She knew she should run, but her feet wouldn’t move when his fingers slid under the line of her chin and gently tipped back her head. When his lips touched hers, she felt the snap of power between them and dug her nails deeply into the palms of her hands.
Cy’s mouth was warm and soft as his breath touched her face, deepening the kiss. His lips flowed over her in the darkness, sweeping her up in the undertow. He laid gentle kisses across her cheek, just under her eye, then back to her mouth. His free hand found the small of her back, and he pulled her to him, slowly but with firmness.
Cy kissed like the man he was—confident, gentle, but still in control of the moment. The press of him against her was everything she wanted.
She knew she had to stop. There wasn’t much time. But she couldn’t seem to force her body away. Mia had never let herself imagine what it would feel like to be held by a man like Cy. Letting her mind slip into that misty dream world, she savored the feel of him, hard and muscular, pressing against her sensitive breasts. Every nerve was alive and shooting to her core.
Mia’s mind seemed fogged from anything but the taste of Cy’s mouth. Unable to hold it back, a small moan captured her feelings lying just under the surface.
Cy pulled her tighter, running a hand up to cup the bare nape of her neck. He tugged gently at her thick tangle of hair to tip her head back farther, as his tongue took an erotic exploration.
With the touch of his tongue, Mia’s control snapped like bow pulled too tight. The surrender of control was so quick she couldn’t stop it. Heat flashed through her, over her.
Shoving Cy squarely in the chest, Mia forced him to step back an instant before there was a large crack of energy. The electricity pulsed outwardly snapping and sparking across her skin.
Mia pulled away and balled her hands into fists looking desperately around the large, grassy area for escape. She could feel the energy inside, demanding to get out, ripping at her with internal claws.
Mia choked in a sob as she stumbled to the edge of a child’s wading pool. The dark, glassy water beckoned her as she extended her arm and opened her hand. In her palm, swirling once again, was the blue light orb, dancing hypnotically.
She hated this power she’d been cursed with. Why did it have to take everything…everyone, from her?
Mia fell to her knees at the pool’s edge and shoved her arm to her elbow in the water. The force felt like a car had just hit her. She gasped and her vision blurred. She’d let the powers build too long. It had gotten out of control and now she was going to pay for it.
Pain raced across her body as she pushed her arm deeper into the depths of the pool causing steam to rise with a hiss through the quiet night air. Trying to erase the tingle of electricity and the taste of Cy’s mouth, Mia bit down hard on her lip until she tasted blood. She pulled in large sucking gasps of air, fighting to remain conscious.
Cy dropped to his knees beside her crying out, “Mia, My God. Mia!”
“Go away-and leave me alone!” she cried trying to pull back and stand, but her body shook in convulsions. She stumbled, falling forward. Cy’s powerful arms wrapped around her before she hit the ground. She knew she didn’t have the strength to fight or run from him.
“What happened? What was that?” His face was pale.
Her powers had taken what they wanted and now they were gone, it was safe. They had left her a shattered mess, taking along with it any future she may have had with the man beside her.
To want something so much, she’d been willing to sacrifice herself to get one more moment with him. It was her fault, it was always her fault.
“Are you hurt? Do I need to call for help? Talk to me!” Alarm flooded his face.
“No. Take me home, and then leave me alone!”
“I can’t do that. Mia, you won’t be alone anymore.” Cy’s voice faded as she fell limply against him.
Chapter 5
The morning sun shone through the windows as Mia opened her eyes. She knew she wasn’t in her own bed. The basement didn’t have windows.
Her body trembled in tiny aftershocks from the energy drain she had experienced the night before. She couldn’t remember the last time her powers had been that strong. But then again, she knew why. Cy had awakened feelings that she’d repressed, convinced she was destined to be alone.
The bed was warm and soft with white brushed cotton sheets and large feather pillows. She rolled slowly to her side and raised her hand to block the bright sunlight streaming in.
Cy was asleep, slouched down in a carved wooden chair next to the bed that was three sizes too small for his large frame. Dark brown curls fell over one eye, and his breathing was deep and even. Bare feet stuck out at the bottom of long jean-clad legs and a dusting of beard stubble had sprouted along his strong jaw. It made his appearance more ruggedly handsome—if that was even possible.
She pulled the covers to the side, sat up, and put her feet on the floor. The wood was cool. Her head still ached fiercely and she tried to steady her vision as she pinched the bridge of her nose. If she moved quietly and quickly, she could get out of there and be gone from town in the next few hours. She rose and took a step.
“You were going to leave without even saying good morning? After I slept cramped up in this little chair all night? I feel like a jilted lover.”
Mia spun around with a startled squeak. Cy’s eyes were partially open as they studied her sleepily. He yawned.
She crossed her arms protectively over her chest and said crossly, “Why did you bring me here? I told you to take me back to the restaurant and then leave.”
Mia looked around the small, cozy cabin. Planks of unfinished logs lined the walls. Hand-carved furniture made of rough-hewn pine scattered the large main room. A large shelf covered one wall, filled floor-to-ceiling with books. The dining room table was a small oval, covered in a green and white checked tablecloth. Three green camp chairs stood around it. Antique pans hung on the wall from nails along with watercolor paintings she recognized created by local artists.
Fighting the Fire Page 4