by Lynn LaFleur
“I changed my mind. It’s much easier to delegate than depend on people to raise their hands.” She clapped once, as if to emphasize she’d ended the subject. “Okay, folks, come get your calendars.”
Dylan had no desire to hang up a calendar of his buddies, so declined to take any. He saw Talia remove her four from the box and hug them to her chest. She’d probably give one to each of her two sisters and keep one for herself. Maybe she’d give one to her boss, Janelle. Then she’d be out of her free copies.
He lightly touched her bare arm. A spark shot through his hand and up his arm, directly to his heart. It happened every time he had the chance to touch her. “Hey, Talia, I’m not going to take any of my four. You can have them if you need more copies.”
“You don’t want at least one for a keepsake?”
“Nah. I see these guys naked all the time. I don’t need a calendar to remind me they’re all ugly.”
He grinned when she laughed. “Then I’ll take two of yours. That’ll leave you two if you change your mind.”
Tate approached them, laid a hand on Dylan’s shoulder. “Y’all want to meet at Bunkhouse around six? I’ll order the barbecue for Saturday and we can plan what else to do while we eat. Since it’s fire department business, I can use our credit card to pay for supper.”
“Works for me,” Dylan said. “How about you, Talia?”
“I get off work at five-thirty, so I can be there by six.” She glanced at her watch. “Speaking of work, I have to get back. See y’all later.”
She grabbed two more calendars, said good-bye to the other gals, and scurried toward the exit. Dylan would see her again in only a few hours.
Yeah, well, a lot of good it’ll do me to see her again. There can’t be anything between us except friendship, no matter how much I love her.
2
Talia stepped through the entrance of Bunkhouse Barbecue ten minutes past six. A last-minute customer meant she couldn’t close Janelle’s until almost six o’clock. Since that customer spent almost two hundred dollars, and Talia earned an extra five percent commission on any sale over one hundred, she didn’t mind staying late.
She saw the gang at a table for six in the corner on the left side of the restaurant. Lucia waved at her as she made her way toward them. Talia noticed they’d left an empty chair between Tate and Dylan. Talia had no choice but to take it.
“Hi, everybody. Sorry I’m late.”
“No problem,” Lucia said. “We haven’t ordered or started the meeting yet.”
Two half-full pitchers of beer sat in the center of the table. “Looks like someone ordered something.”
“We couldn’t wait for you for everything.” Tate picked up one of the pitchers. “Want some?”
“Please.”
She could feel Dylan looking at her as Tate filled her mug with the cold brew. If she scooted her chair a few inches closer to his, their legs would touch.
Pushing that silly thought from her head, she took a sip of beer and licked the foam from her upper lip. Wondering if he still looked at her, she peeked at Dylan to see him staring at her mouth. His gaze slowly lifted to her eyes. Talia swallowed at the heat she saw in the blue irises.
“Lucia offered to take notes,” Tate said, drawing Talia’s attention to him. “How about if we order and then we’ll start our business meeting?”
No one argued with him, so Tate motioned to the waitress. Talia would love to order the ribs, but they would be way too messy to eat in front of Dylan. When Lucia ordered them, Talia decided, what the hell. She didn’t need to impress Dylan. He wouldn’t care one way or the other if she dribbled barbecue sauce in her lap.
The guys at the table followed Lucia, too, meaning Talia probably wouldn’t be the only one who wore barbecue sauce home on her clothes. She and Lucia decided to order different sides so they could share and have four choices to eat instead of only two. Talia already imagined the snack she’d enjoy while she watched one of the late-night talk shows.
Once everyone turned in their order, Tate pounded his hand on the table three times in lieu of a gavel. “Okay, meeting officially begins now. Saturday night will be a celebration of raising enough money for our new tanker.”
Applause rounded the table, causing Tate to grin. “Yeah, I’m happy about that, too. So, this will be a freebie, not a fund-raiser.” He looked at each person seated at the table. “How many usually come to the fund-raisers?”
“We plan for three hundred,” Lucia said. “Sometimes there are more, sometimes less, but that seems to be a good number to use for buying food.”
“But that’s for a fund-raiser.” Dylan said. “This is free. People love free, especially when it’s food. Clay and Maysen plan to really promote the celebration. I think we need to plan for double what we usually do.”
“That wouldn’t be a bad idea,” Talia said. “We can always split up the leftovers between the firefighters, if we have any leftovers. I’d rather have too much food than to run out and have anyone be disappointed.”
Stephen nodded. “I agree with Talia. Since this is something the fire department is doing, we can’t depend on people donating food like they do at the fund-raisers.”
“Yeah, but I bet they will.” Nick picked up his beer mug. “I wouldn’t be surprised if half the people who show up bring some kind of food.”
“Unless we tell them not to.” Lucia jotted a note on her legal pad. “Maysen is posting the announcement online tomorrow. If we say that this is something the fire department wants to do to thank the community, no one would feel obligated to contribute.”
Nick sipped his beer, returned his mug to the table. “You know Mrs. Hurley will bring her peach cobbler, whether it’s a fund-raiser or free. For which I am very thankful. She makes the best peach cobbler I’ve ever tasted.” He peered over his shoulder toward the kitchen. “Don’t tell Judy I said that.”
Talia chuckled. Larry’s wife, Judy, made wonderful desserts, but no one could top Mrs. Hurley’s peach cobbler. Many had tried, but all had failed. “What about this?” She leaned forward in her chair. “The announcement will state this is the fire department’s way of thanking Lanville for the support. We’ll supply all the meat, the bread, several side dishes, and iced tea, but if anyone wants to contribute something, it would be appreciated.”
“I like it.” Lucia jotted down another note. “We could sell beer, bottled water, and Cokes, like we do at fund-raisers. Maybe for half price.”
“Good idea.” Tate leaned back as the waitress set his plate of food in front of him. “I’ll talk to Larry when I order the meat about buying some of Judy’s cobblers and pies. Even if Mrs. Hurley brings her peach cobbler, we’ll need more desserts.”
“Not everyone will want beef or fish,” Talia said. “Be sure and order some of Larry’s turkey.”
“Lucia, make a note—”
“Got it, Cap.” Lucia grinned at him. “Didn’t know I could read your mind, did you?”
“That’s a scary thought.”
“If we’re going to have double the people,” Stephen said, “we’ll need more tables and chairs.”
“I’ll check with the churches about borrowing some. We’ve done that in the past, so it shouldn’t be a problem.” Lucia wrote that on her tablet. “What if the weather’s crappy?”
Talia unfolded her napkin to remove her silverware. “I saw the weather this morning before I went to work. It’s supposed to be dry and hot the whole weekend.”
“How about if we park some of the equipment on the street?” Nick asked. “That would give us room inside the bays to set up four serving lines instead of two like we usually do.”
“Ooh, I like that.” Lucia continued to scribble on her paper. “Nick, do you think Keely will help us serve?”
“Sure. She’d be happy to.”
“Doesn’t she work at Boot Scootin’ on Saturday night?”
“I’m sure Dolly will give her the night off to help the fire department.”
Tate waited to speak again until everyone had been served. “We can still make plans, but I’m not waiting to eat.”
Talia agreed with Tate. She picked up one of the thick beef ribs on her plate and took a huge bite. The barbecue sauce had just enough kick to have her reaching for her beer mug after she’d swallowed the meat.
“Too hot for you?” Dylan asked, the humor evident in his voice.
No way would she admit any weakness to Dylan. She lifted her chin an inch. “It’s perfect.” To prove her point, she took another bite, followed by a bite of potato salad to cool a little of the burn.
“You have some sauce right here.”
He touched the corner of her mouth with one finger. Talia automatically swiped her tongue there to lap up the sauce. She licked Dylan’s finger instead.
She froze and so did he. She stared into his eyes, watching the heat slowly return. Or perhaps it had never left. She’d avoided gazing directly at him since she’d taken her first sip of beer. Now, she couldn’t seem to look away from him.
Conversation continued among the other four people at the table. Talia paid no attention to it. She’d promised herself today that she’d forget all about Dylan, that she couldn’t keep pining for a man who didn’t want her. The yearning in his eyes not only said he wanted her, it screamed out his desire.
Sensation skittered down her spine. Her clit pulsed at the thought of all that heat wrapping around her, engulfing her. She imagined his lips and hands on hers while he lowered her to lie beneath him …
Talia cried out at the kick to her shin. “Hey!” She frowned at Lucia. “Why did you do that?”
“You aren’t paying attention.”
“Neither was Dylan,” Stephen said with a grin. “He’s too busy making goo-goo eyes at Talia.”
Dylan tossed his wadded-up napkin at Stephen, who ducked to avoid it hitting him in the face. “Shut up, McGettis.”
“Why don’t y’all get a room and work out that built-up frustration?” Nick suggested with a waggle of his eyebrows.
“Why don’t you mind your own business?” Dylan asked, frowning.
“Just trying to help, buddy.”
Talia stared at her plate. Teasing didn’t bother her. More often than not, she gave as good as she got. But Stephen’s and Nick’s comments hit too close to home. She hated feeling all flustered and gooey around Dylan when no other man affected her the same way.
“Ignore them,” Dylan said while he refilled her mug with beer. “They’re idiots.”
“Oh, I know that.” Determined to stop the yearning for Dylan and treat him as a friend like the other men at this table, she let her gaze touch Nick and Stephen. “It would take more than some childish comments from these jerks to get to me.”
Lucia grinned. “ ’Atta girl.”
Nick leaned past Lucia and peered at Stephen. “Do you believe she called us jerks?”
“I’m completely crushed that Talia could be so cruel to us.”
“Trust me,” Talia said, stabbing her fork into a piece of fried okra, “you don’t know how cruel I can be.”
“Sounds like a challenge to me, Stephen.”
“I think you’re right, Nick.” Stephen’s gaze swung to Dylan. “What do you think, Westfield?”
Dylan held up both hands, palms out. “I’m not getting involved in whatever y’all have planned. I’ve been on the receiving end of Talia holding a fire hose.”
Stephen tapped his chin. “Fire hose. Hmmm.”
Talia pointed her fork at him. “Don’t even go there. I promise you’ll regret it.”
“A challenge.” Grinning, Nick rubbed his hands together. “I do love a challenge.”
“All right, children,” Tate said, humor lacing his voice, “finish your supper. We still have work to do.”
Happy to have given as good as she’d received from Nick and Stephen, she glanced at Dylan to see him grinning. He winked at her. Relieved some of the sexual tension had evaporated, she returned his grin.
She couldn’t have Dylan the way she wanted him, but she could still have him as a friend. That meant a lot to her.
Dylan helped Marcus Holt unfold the legs of another table inside the empty bays. The ladder truck and other fire equipment had been moved to the grassy field across the street so they had the entire area to set up for tonight’s celebration. Kirk and Kory Wilcox set chairs around the table as soon as Dylan and Marcus set it in place.
Glancing outside, Dylan saw Stephen and Dusty also setting up tables and chairs on the fire hall’s lawn. There wouldn’t be enough chairs to seat six hundred people if that many showed, but he knew from past fund-raisers that some people would bring their own folding chairs, or blankets and sit on the ground. The Rose River ambled past the fire hall’s property, making a scenic and cool place to enjoy the evening.
Nick had been right about people donating food, even though they didn’t have to. People had been dropping by all afternoon to leave items with the promise of coming back at six for the official start time of the serving lines. Emma Keeton, the chef at Café Crystal, had dropped off a huge platter of fried chicken barely an hour ago. Several of the firefighters decided they had to sample it, just to make sure it would be good enough to serve tonight.
It received a big thumbs-up from everyone.
“That’s the last table,” Marcus said. “Ready for a beer?”
“Past ready.” He pushed his hair back from his forehead. “It’s damned hot in here.”
“It’d be hotter if we didn’t have the big box fans to help move the air.”
“True. But I’d like to skip over the rest of September and get right to October. I’m ready for fall.”
“October will be here in two weeks. Don’t wish your life away, Dylan. It passes quickly enough on its own.”
Dylan followed his captain to the huge ice chests against the wall that held bottles of beer, water, and soft drinks. He accepted a beer from Marcus and gulped down half of it before he took a breath. “Oh, yeah, that’s good.”
Marcus closed the lid of the ice chest and sat on it. “Six hundred might be a conservative number for the people who plan to come tonight.”
Dylan sat on another ice chest next to Marcus. “I hope so. We have enough food to feed almost the whole town.”
“I hope there are enough parking spaces for everyone.”
“A lot of folks will get their food to go.”
“They still have to park to get in the serving lines.”
“They’ll find a place, even if they have to walk a block or two. Don’t worry.”
Marcus raised the bottle to his mouth for another drink, but stopped with it halfway there. A huge smile spread over his face. “There’s my lady.”
Dylan followed the direction of Marcus’s gaze to see Rayna coming toward them with a large Crock-Pot in her hands. Marcus quickly set down his bottle and hurried to relieve her of the load. She smiled warmly at him and accepted his kiss before they walked into the building.
Dylan smiled. Marcus and Rayna had remarried last month in a simple ceremony in their backyard. He remembered the look of joy on their faces when the judge had declared them husband and wife. He also remembered how Marcus’s eyes had filled with tears of delight when he’d announced to the department two weeks later that he and Rayna would be blessed with a baby in April, a result of their reunion in July after five years apart.
They’d lost their son in a tragic accident when Derek was only five years old. Renewed marriage vows and a baby on the way meant they had another shot at happiness. Dylan didn’t doubt that Marcus and Rayna would make it this time.
A car pulled into the parking lot. Dylan watched Talia climb out of the small compact. His cock gave an interested twitch in his briefs at the sight of her in form-fitting denim capris and a sleeveless blouse tied at her waist. The color of the blouse reminded him of ripe raspberries.
He wondered if her nipples were the same color.
She motioned toward St
ephen and Dusty before she popped the trunk lid of her car. They ambled over to help her remove more folding chairs. Dylan debated about offering his help, but decided he’d rather sit here and ogle Talia as long as he could.
“You guarding the beer?” Quade asked.
The sound of his friend’s voice startled Dylan. He’d been so wrapped up in watching Talia, he hadn’t heard Quade come up behind him. “Actually, I’m guarding the water.” He jerked his head toward the ice chest where Marcus had sat. “Beer’s in there.”
Quade helped himself to a bottle, twisted off the cap, and took a long swallow before he sat on the chest. “Hot today.”
“Yeah,” Dylan said with his gaze on Talia.
“Supposed to cool off next week, back down to normal temps. We might even get some rain.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, since I’ve exhausted the weather topic, I’ll ask why you’re sitting in here staring at Talia instead of out there with her?”
Quade’s question drew Dylan’s attention away from the woman outside and to the man seated next to him. “Stephen and Dusty are helping her.”
“That doesn’t mean you couldn’t help her, too.”
Dylan drank the last of his beer and set his bottle on the cement floor. “I’m fine right here.”
Quade blew out a breath. “I know how you feel about her, Dylan. You have to know she feels the same way about you. Why are you denying the happiness she can give you?”
Out of all his friends, only Quade knew about Dylan’s past due to an evening of one too many beers and a loose tongue. Quade had always been easy to talk to, probably due to his job as a counselor at the high school.
But even Quade didn’t know all the hell Dylan had gone through.
“It isn’t that simple, Quade. You know that better than anyone.”
“I know the past can fuck with your head if you let it. Don’t let it, Dylan.”
“Yeah, well, easier said than done.”
“Why don’t you talk to Talia, tell her—”
“No,” Dylan said firmly. “That isn’t an option.”