Fire in Me

by Dawn Mattox

  Bad as it smelled, rank-nasty in the blender, it was twice as bad by the time we returned from church. The food dehydrator that was processing the strips had fanned the stench into every corner of the house.

  Ashley gasped. “Yeach! Now you know why I'm a vegan.”

  I wrinkled my nose as we opened windows and took refuge on the deck.

  “That is so disgusting! Ugh! That stuff smells like road kill.” Ashley pointed skyward. “Are those buzzards circling? Geeze! I bet Shane can smell it all the way up at our house.”

  Bikers know about the smell of road kill. Looking up, I nodded in agreement. They looked like buzzards all right. “Yup. Pretty sure.” Maybe the dog jerky actually was road kill. The kibble company didn't exactly say where they acquired the meat for their fancy pet food.

  Kissme barked and spun in joyful anticipation. I guess there is no accounting for taste. I imagined that my little princess would just as soon roll in the stuff as eat it, but at least she seemed to appreciate my effort. That said, while my little Kissme-girl is easily the sweetest, she is not always the brightest dog in the neighborhood.

  I smelled the coffee before seeing it; cracking eyes to slits and seeing Travis’s hand wrapped around a paper cup just inches from my nose. Lifting my head from my arms that I’d pillowed on my desk, my eyes popped open. I sat up, ran my fingers through my hair and shook my head.

  “A little something for Sleeping Beauty.” Travis smiled. He shut the door and sat on the sofa. “I’ve wondered what you look like first thing in the morning. I knew you'd be beautiful.”

  I yawned, rubbed the grit from my eyes and offered a sarcastic “Thank you, Prince Charming.”

  “Prince Charming got a kiss.” Travis arched a brow and threw me a playful grin.

  “You already had your kiss—and then some. However, while I want to pay you for the coffee, I am all out of greenbacks. Do you accept change?”

  “Oooh, ouch.” Travis laid his hand across his heart, but his eyes twinkled. “No, but I do take debit cards,” he countered. “A little grumpy this morning? Make that, afternoon.”

  “I feel like a lab rat in a sleep-deprivation test,” I said, sipping the jet fuel, eyes closing again, savoring the moment. “Umm... good. I can’t sleep anymore.”

  I didn't want to tell him that I lived my nights in a hamster wheel, running and rerunning imaginary loops of erotic sex between Chance and Paige. Or that I would lay awake for hours musing: Did they laugh at me? Did he wear his ring? Are there others I don’t know about? And I would never tell Travis that I lost sleep thinking over his declaration of love. That scared the heck out of me.

  “A problem?” Travis took a seat.

  “Besides you and your unsolicited invasion of my private life?” Too tired to fight, I changed the conversation.

  “What else? Let's see... my dog threw up all night. You know—from both ends? I had to take her out every hour on the hour. It was terrible. The stink was nasty beyond belief.”

  Travis laughed easily but remained watchful. “That's why I’m dogless. Anything else? You look like you've missed more than one night's sleep.”

  “Really?” Talk about an understatement.

  “I could help you sleep.” A devilish smile played at the corners of his incredibly sensual lips, ratcheting up the pheromone level in the room when he winked.

  My blush-thing that followed was terribly outdated, but Travis has a way of turning up the heat.

  “Try valerian root,” he advised. “When I got back from Iraq I had a terrible time sleeping. I kept replaying and rerunning different things I’d seen in combat, and I didn’t want psych meds, and I didn’t want to go back on pain killers.”

  Like silhouettes on a wall, pain-filled memories cast shadows behind his green eyes. He understood. “A buddy told me about valerian root; they make Valium from it. It helped.” His smile returned. “And if that doesn’t work, Dr. Travis makes house calls.”

  I imagined myself going from blushing pink to smoking red. “Don’t you have work to do?”

  “Sunny,” he said, only half in jest, “you are my work.”

  “Yeah right, cowboy. Whenever you need help tracking down outlaws.”

  Travis stood, searching, or possibly assessing, me with brows drawn when a loud knock interrupted his contemplation.

  Ashley has only been to my office once since I started work for the DA. She’d arrived one day wearing her “I got it on eBay” grin, with a gift; a weird and beautiful Grecian-style lamp with a bronzed, robed, slender woman holding up a silken lampshade. Today I opened the door to a flushed and anxious looking Ashley.

  “Ashley! Wow. What brings you here?”

  “Am I interrupting?” she asked, glancing at Travis reclining on the sofa.

  “No. Come in. We were just discussing a case we're turning over to the attorney general's office,” I lied, thinking of the Laurel Zehetner case we had considered hours ago.

  Ashley was instantly all smiles. “You're sure?” She was either having her first hot flash or having one of those primal responses that light up a woman when she meets a gorgeous man.

  “No, not a problem. Travis was just leaving,” I said pointedly, giving Travis a the door is that way tip of the head.

  Travis patted the hand still over his heart. “You're not going to introduce us?”

  Ashley's face, already an unusual shade of red, accelerated from worried-to-stupid in a nanosecond. I hate that my friend is one of those natural California beauties who never requires makeup or dress up. She is always natural and always pretty. I imagined throwing cold water on her just for fun.

  With exaggerated formality, I made introductions. “Ashley meet Travis, who is leaving. Travis this is Ashley, my neighbor.” I turned my “can I help you?” expression on my friend, but she wasn't looking at me. She was still looking at Travis with that idiotic smile. I expected her at any minute to burst into a Broadway song and dance routine.

  “What brings you here?” I asked, somewhat dismayed at the flicker of jealousy that was sparking within. “Ashley? Hello! I'm over here!”

  “Oh! Sorry.” She blushed. Guess I am not the only one who still blushes. “Um... well, I need to talk to you about...” she glanced nervously at Travis then back at me and lowered her voice. “About Logan,” she whispered. “Maybe... ”

  “Logan?” I interrupted.

  Why not just take out an ad on prime-time TV? Is there anyone left who doesn't know about Logan? As close as Ashley and I are, I had kept my history with Logan to a bare minimum, mostly alluding to him as an ex-boyfriend who rode with Hells Angels. She didn't know anything about the stalking

  Eyeballing Travis, I tried to compose myself and remain professional. “Travis, will you please excuse us?”

  “No.” He sat up straight and leaned in. “I'd like to hear what she has to say.” A determined look settled on his face.

  It was that final second—that awkward moment before the grenade goes off, the cat shreds the dog, the gazelle falls to the lion, and the tsunami hits shore—I was about to engage in some serious interpersonal violence.

  Jumping up, I pushed Ashley toward the door. “You'll have to excuse me, Ash. I’d rather wait to talk about this until I get home. I'll call you tonight.”

  Travis beat us to the door, slamming it in Ashley’s face before she could exit. “I’m an investigator, and if you are withholding information regarding a crime, it’s in your best interest to talk about it now.”

  Ashley trembled, and I rolled my eyes, exhaling as I prepared for the storm.

  “Over lunch?” Travis offered with a charismatic smile.

  “Dog vomit. Or maybe it was poop. The guy was totally scary. He was cussing and kicking his boot against your house,” Ashley began. “I think he must have stepped in a dog pile because it was everywhere and... can you believe he was cursing dogs when I walked up? I was just dropping my carpet shampooer off on your doorstep and thought he was Chance on his motorcycle.”
<
br />   I wasn't hungry and had no intention of eating lunch, but I wasn’t about to let Ashley go off with Travis and discuss my life without me.

  “He was covered with tattoos. I guessed it was Logan when I saw his colors. I didn't mean to pry, Sunny. I'm sorry, but I thought you'd want to know right away.” Ashley looked apologetic as she picked at her salad.

  Travis turned up the charm. “It's all right. I'm sorry you were frightened, but I’m glad you came by. You did the right thing. We’ve been looking for him. Can you tell me exactly what he said?”

  “Well...” Ashley squirmed uncomfortably. “As I was walking up he said, 'Who the fuck are you?' which really freaked me out. I said I was a friend of Sunny's and I was dropping off my carpet shampooer.”

  “Then what?” Travis coaxed.

  Ashley frowned in thought. “Then he stepped in a second pile and told me to get the 'F' out. So I came here.”

  Tension escalated. “Excuse me,” said Travis, wiping his face as he pushed away from the table. He pulled out a couple of twenties and tossed them on the table. “I'll send a car for you.”

  “No, you won't! You can't just...”

  But he was already gone.

  “This is going to stop, or I am going to file a restraining order against you.” I threatened Travis back at the office.

  “No you won't,” he said.

  Was it confidence or arrogance? “What makes you so sure? I've had it with you.”

  “I needed to put out an emergency BOLO on Logan.”

  “A BOLO?” Ashley paled at the word.

  “‘Be On the Look Out.' It's a police alert,” I explained.

  “Oh, my! Do you want to stay at our house tonight?”.

  “No. It's okay. I'll call you when I get home. Love you, Ash.” We hugged, and I propelled her out the door. As soon as she was out of hearing, I opened my mouth to protest and—

  “I'll tell Jack you're being stalked.” Travis cut me off.

  “Everybody knows anyhow.” I trembled with anger, drawing back my hand as if to punch him, just as Paige walked in.

  Startled, she jumped back, demanding, “What's going on in here?”

  Furious, clenched fists remained at my sides as I stormed past her. I heard the distinctive sound of the door closing behind me, leaving Travis and Paige alone together as I headed for the restroom and a time-out.

  On my return trip, I overheard them arguing and paused a heartbeat outside of Travis's door, burning with curiosity. Unwilling to be caught eavesdropping, I walked on, telling myself that I didn't care. But minutes later, Travis left for the rest of the day and Paige couldn't look me in the eye.

  Chance probably couldn't hear me knocking at the door over Mercy’s barking, so I peered through his living room window. Aching with loneliness, I wanted to talk with him, or just be near him.

  When I didn’t see him in the front room, I walked around to the bedroom window, a bit fearful of what I might see. Nothing more frightening there than a pile of dirty work clothes and several fishing poles in the corner, so I knocked again before walking around the other way and peering into the guest room. I was hungry, and the candy dish was in full view.

  Hard muscles glistened with sweat, flexing and straining as Chance worked out on his Nautilus machine. I drew a deep breath as desire coursed from the bottom of my feet to my... navel. A headset pumped music into his head and he sang along with his iPod. Chance loves his work and willingly pays the price, knowing that lives depend on his staying fit.

  Breathe. I reminded myself with an exhale that softened into a wistful sigh.

  I knew it wasn't enough to love the outer man. What use is a great piece of luggage if it is empty or going nowhere? But then, Chance was neither empty or without direction. I just wasn't sure we were still booked on the same trip.

  I finished circling the house, stopping to give a tail-wagging, nose-prodding Mercy a quick hug and kiss before letting myself in with the spare key that Chance keeps under a rock.

  I surveyed the front room as I dropped my things in a chair. It was sparsely furnished, even by bachelor standards. A relatively small TV on a simple stand, an overstuffed two-toned recliner and a picture of Jesus holding a stricken young man in blue jeans and a t-shirt centered above the fireplace, right between a picture of me on the right and our wedding picture on the left. Nothing else, except a reading lamp and a plain coffee table that looked like it doubled for a TV tray, holding a small take-out box with rock-hard crusts piled up like a pizza bone yard.

  My gaze was drawn to the oversized living room window, past the small front deck to an emerald green yard and mimosa tree heavy with pink powder puff blossoms. Clusters of bright flowers filled raised beds that ringed a blue jacaranda that Michael McLane had planted long ago. The scene melted into endless layers of timbered mountain ridges lit in various shades of green; pine, fir, and oak, that deepened into an ever-changing, shifting, shadow dance of grays and purples as the sun crept toward the horizon.

  Yes, I thought, there is peace here.

  “Whoa, Sunny. I thought I heard Mercy going crazy. What are you doing here?” I turned from one magnificent view to another. Chance's body radiated power but his countenance beamed with tenderness. His eyes lit with joy as our gazes locked in an unspoken embrace.

  Filled with love and longing, I wondered if my flesh would always be at war with my pride and how long I would continue to reach out, only to draw back in fear and uncertainty.

  “I thought, you know, we could... talk.” Talking was suddenly the last thing on my mind.

  “Sure. Can I get you anything?” Chance said as he headed for the kitchen and the fridge.

  Oh yeah. Can you drop that towel around your neck? “No thanks,” I lied, lifting my head and squaring my shoulders. Things had mellowed between us, but nothing had really changed. “I'm good.”

  “What did you want to talk about?”

  “Paige.” No-no! Delete that! I don't want to talk about her. Once again I opened my mouth and stuck a trash barrel in it. Nothing to do now but swallow and hope I don’t choke. “I saw her at work today.” Duh! I see her at work every day. What am I saying?

  Chance didn't flinch. “And?”

  “And... she asked me about you.” Which wasn't exactly true.

  “I don't care.” Chance shrugged as if the topic of Paige was unimportant.

  “You don't care? You don't want to know what she said?”

  “No, I don't want to know what she says and I don't care what she does. Everything to do with Paige has led to this,” he said with a wave of his hand as if he lived in a tomb instead of a nice house. “I'd rather talk about you, or us, or... nothing at all.”

  Okay, the first shot had gone over the bow. Maybe if I fired another round at the mast...

  “Ashley came by the office this afternoon with information about Logan.”

  That got his interest. “She stopped by my house this morning and saw a motorcycle there. She thought it was you at first, but turns out it was Logan.” I waited for the shock to register. It didn't.

  “I know.” Okay. He won the war with a single shot between the eyes.

  “You know? How did you know that?”

  “I saw the BOLO Travis issued... and then we spent the afternoon together looking for him.”

  That did it! Hot anger blow-dried the steamy sex fantasy.

  “What is it with you two? Are you both insane? I swear to... to... Ga... Ga... You're both just as sick as Logan! You're both always in my business, always butting in my life. You better listen and listen good,” I yelled, poking Chance about mid-can in his six-pack abs. “I don't need your help and I sure as f-ff... f-ff... I sure as sh... sh... I don't want it. I can take care of myself! So there!”

  Sometimes trying to be a good Christian makes you sound like a complete idiot. I hate swearing, but it is a struggle to find other expletives that carry the same force and intimidation. I sounded like a stuttering feeble-minded fool. However, I did fe
el a small twinge of satisfaction at my self-restraint.

  “And stay out of my life! I was doing just fine before I met you!” If you call falling off a cliff and almost drowning “doing just fine.”

  Chance was wise enough not to laugh or bring up the obvious. He just arched a brow, turning his face into a giant question mark.

  I grabbed my things and headed out the door.

  “Wait. Don't you want an answer?” Chance followed me outside onto the porch.

  I spun around, slapped a hand on my hip and shouted, “An answer to what?”

  “Your question. You asked me a question. You wanted to know what it is with the two of us butting into your life.”

  How does he stay so damned calm?—darned calm?

  My furrows between my eyes pinched into a skid mark as I exhaled, sounding like a blowout doing eighty. “And?” I asked, knowing that no answer would be adequate.

  “Simple,” said Chance, his ice blue eyes melting into crystal springs. He took the towel from around his neck, casually wiping the sheen that had magnified his upper body.

  Oh, boy...

  “We both love you, Sunny.” His bright water blues deepened to moonlit pools as the sun slipped behind the mountains. “He's a good man. You should be with a good man.”

  My jaw must have bounced off the porch. For a change, nothing came out of my mouth. I think I stood there with that freshly stun-gunned look on my face.

  Are you suggesting that I be with Travis?

  No. It felt like much more than a suggestion. It felt like Chance was giving me his blessing!

  “It isn't fair! People treat me like a perpetrator and Chance is some kind of victim.”

  Pastor Mac, who also worked with law enforcement, offered a weak smile. His blue-gray eyes flickered with amusement, but his body language suggested disappointment.