Light Her Fire

by Samanthe Beck

  “Arsons?”

  “Yeah. Someone torched the mayor’s hay barn and a couple of Dumpsters behind the hardware store—also owned by the mayor. I got a copy of the report yesterday from the arson lab in Crestwood. They found accelerant on the debris samples. Gasoline in both cases, according to the chromatograms.”

  “There could have been gas in the barn or the Dumpsters. People do dumb things when it comes to storing and disposing of flammables.”

  “True. But gas in two Dumpsters? That’s improbable. And here’s an interesting thing. The debris sample from the barn was a chip of wood from an outside-facing slat.”

  “That is interesting. Sounds like you have a firebug targeting your mayor. The guy should be thanking you for your diligence, not giving you grief.”

  “I think he suspects his teenage son did the deeds. Personally, I think he’s right, but God forbid the kid be held accountable for anything, so I’m the enemy. That said, nothing has gone up in flames around here in over two weeks, so maybe the little prick realized I wouldn’t just let this go, and he decided to take up a different hobby.”

  “You’re not the enemy here. The department would have you back.”

  “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” The response was automatic, and deliberately noncommittal, but in his heart, he’d already dismissed the option. Returning to Cincinnati didn’t hold any appeal. Despite his complaints about Buchanan, and the lackluster performance of the sheriff’s department, Bluelick no longer seemed like a dead end.

  “We can talk more about it next week, at my anniversary party. You’re attending, right?”

  He frowned with the effort of tracking the subject change. “Yes.”

  “Great. Feel free to bring a date. My assistant will send you the details, but in a nutshell, Thursday night, eight o’clock, at Strattons. You remember the place?”

  “I remember.” Many a night of debauchery had begun at Strattons. He considered his schedule. Next Thursday evening fell nicely into his forty-eight-hours-off shift. “Tell your assistant to put me down as a yes, plus one guest.”

  “Great. Great.” He could practically hear the man rubbing his hands together through the phone. “Look forward to meeting your guest. I hope a group of foul-mouthed, rough-edged firefighters and their sidekicks don’t scare her away.”

  One foul-mouthed, rough-edged firefighter hadn’t scared her away, so far. “I think she’ll be fine.” She’d outclass them all. He smiled, imaging his smooth-mannered Southern belle amid the Cinci crowd. It would be interesting.

  …

  The rapid patter of high heels on hardwood pulled Melody’s attention away from her phone.

  “About time,” she said as Ginny dropped onto the barstool beside her.

  “Sorry I’m late. I just had something between a near-death and a near-orgasmic experience.”

  “What happened?”

  Ginny raised a shaking hand to hold off the question, called out, “Double bourbon, Earl,” and then turned to Melody. “I walked over from the salon. I’d just stepped off the curb to cross Main when Justin Buchanan sped around the corner in his red Mustang and almost ran me down.”

  “Oh my God. Are you okay?”

  Earl put the drink in front of Ginny. She nodded and took a big swallow before continuing. “That was the near-death part of my experience. Here comes the near-orgasmic part. One second I’m hovering there, watching my impending doom hurtle toward me. The next, two big, strong arms catch me and pull me back against what feels like a solid wall of muscle. I’m literally swaddled in a man-wrap, shaking like a leaf, trying to catch my breath, and slowly noticing I’m not the only one…ahem…stimulated by the close call, if you know what I mean.”

  “I’ve got the picture. Who was it?”

  “You’ll never guess.”

  “I won’t. Don’t even make me try. Tell me.”

  She took another swallow of her drink. “Remember the guy I pointed out in church a couple weeks ago?”

  “Wolverine? Holy smokes. Who is he?”

  Ginny dropped her face into her hands. “I still don’t know.” She raised her head. “By the time I reclaimed my power of speech, he was already walking away. I called out a thank-you, but he just nodded and walked off.”

  “Wow. No name.”

  “Nope. Saved my life, and walked off into the sunset.” She finished her drink and put the glass on the bar with a small thunk. “How was your day?”

  “Uneventful.” Her phone signaled an incoming text. She glanced down and couldn’t help smiling when she saw it was from Josh.

  “How’s the hubby?” Ginny asked.

  “Har. You’re funny. We’re casual, remember?” I’m casually head over heels for him.

  “Sure you are. Who were you with last night?”

  “Josh.”

  “And the night before?”

  “Josh. The evening before that, however, I went running with you, remember?”

  “Because he was working. Just like tonight. And you two can’t make it through one measly evening apart without sexting. That’s not casual.” She grinned and folded her arms. “I’m done with this witness and I rest my case.”

  “We’re not sexting.”

  “Any nonurgent text exchange during which you picture him naked counts as sexting by my rules.”

  Well, shoot, by those rules, she was, indeed, sexting. “If you must know, he had a perfectly legitimate reason for contacting me. He’s attending some big anniversary party for his old chief in Cincinnati next Thursday and he wanted to know if I’d join him.”

  “A party a week away? You’re right, that is urgent. No way could such an important question wait until tomorrow. Go ahead and put his mind to rest. I’ve got to make a trip to the ladies’ room anyway.” She hopped off her barstool and put her purse strap over her shoulder, but then stopped and muttered, “Oh, shoot.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Ginny leaned close. “Do you happen to have a tampon? I meant to stop at Dalton’s on the way over here, but my near-death, near-orgasm knocked my to-do list right out of my brain.”

  “Yes, I’m sure I do.” She swung around, grabbed her purse, and followed Ginny to the restroom. Once inside the small room, she dug a tampon from her purse and handed it to her friend.

  “Thanks,” Ginny said and disappeared into a stall.

  “No problem.” Melody snagged the ponytail holder from the inside pocket of her purse and turned to the mirror. “I should probably stop at Dalton’s, too, because I’m due in…” Wait, something wasn’t right. She snapped the stretchy band into place while pages flew off her mental calendar. “I’m due in…”

  Ginny walked out of the stall and approached the sink. “You’re usually ahead of me,” she noted as she washed her hands. “You’re overdue.”

  She was. Dear Lord. She was late, and she was never late. Ever. “Oh, no.”

  “Oh, no what?” Ginny dried her hands and met Melody’s gaze in the mirror. Her eyes rounded as the ramifications of the conversation sank in. “Holy shit, are you—”

  “No. I don’t know.” She thought about the time in her kitchen, and the broken condom, and winced. “Maybe.”

  “Holy shit,” Ginny said again. “How pregnant are you?”

  “Shh! For God’s sake, keep your voice down.” She looked around the empty bathroom, knowing she was being paranoid, but unable to stop. “I don’t know if I am. What do you mean, how pregnant am I?”

  “I mean are you Roger pregnant, or are you Josh pregnant?”

  She bit back hysterical laughter. Roger pregnant? “Roger and I broke up months ago. I’m not Roger pregnant.” She took a deep breath and turned to Ginny. “If I’m pregnant, it’s Josh’s.”

  “Whew. No offense, but I’m relieved.”

  “Well, I’m not. We’ve only been seeing each other a month. We’re supposed to be keeping things casual, by mutual agreement. It would be best if I’m not anybody pregnant.” Even as she said the word
s, a soft-edged image formed in her mind, of big, tough, Fire Chief Bradley cradling a tiny blanket-wrapped bundle in his arms, and her crazy, reckless heart—the one that really ought to know better—fell hard for the scene. Everything she’d always wanted in the past, with the man she wanted in her future.

  “Uh-oh, you’ve got that look again.”

  “What look?”

  “The dreamy, senior-year look”

  Guilty. “There is nothing dreamy about this situation.”

  “I know you well enough to realize a part of you just planned a perfect autumn wedding at Bluelick Baptist, bought a big house on Edgemont, and picked out nursery furniture.”

  “You couldn’t be more off base.”

  Ginny gave her a “yeah, right,” look and she caved. “Okay, I planned a small backyard wedding, and bought your grandma’s old cottage on Overlook Road.” She knew her smile fell flat, but Ginny returned it sympathetically.

  “The cottage is a wreck, honey.”

  “Hey, it’s my happily-ever-after fantasy, and in my fantasy, Josh and I fix the place up—turn it into the kind of home your grandfather envisioned when he built it.”

  “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. But do me a favor, Mel. Leave some wiggle room in your happily ever after for Josh’s wish list, too. Whatever you and Josh work out will likely involve some compromise. Taking some old fantasy of your perfect future, tweaking a few details, and swapping Roger out for Josh isn’t fair to either of you.”

  “I’m not.” Was she? Possibly, a rational voice at the back of her mind admitted. At the very least she was ignoring the facts. Josh wasn’t interested in settling down, and even if unintentionally becoming a father changed that, a pretty white cottage in Bluelick wouldn’t be his definition of happily ever after. She pressed her fingers to her temples and rubbed, hoping to ease the pressure building behind her eyes. “My fantasies—whatever they are—don’t alter reality. And accidentally getting pregnant with the man I’ve been involved with for a matter of weeks is a pretty daunting reality.”

  “All right. I hear that, but here’s some more reality for you. You’d make a great mom. You’ve wanted to be one forever. Hell, you showed up on the first day of preschool with a doll baby in a stroller. Come high school, you were the busiest babysitter in town, and you’re amazing with your nieces. You’re a natural for the gig. Got it?”

  She nodded, then reached out and hugged her friend. She loved Ginny like a sister, but she knew her like one, too. The girl had a mouth and she liked to run it. Not necessarily a bad thing. Thanks to Ginny’s talkative tendencies, the entire town bought into the phony rumor about the reason for her and Roger’s breakup. But this wasn’t something she wanted to share with the whole town. “Please, please don’t say anything to anyone.”

  Ginny returned the hug. “I won’t. Believe it or not, I know when to keep my mouth shut. Every word of this conversation stays in the vault. I promise.”

  She tightened her hold. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Now”—she drew back and pointed to the door—“seems like we both need to pay a visit to Dalton’s.”

  “I can’t buy a pregnancy test at Dalton’s! I do that and I might as well tattoo ‘I could be pregnant’ on my forehead and walk down Main.” She eyed Ginny. “You buy it.”

  “Me? Hell no. I’m contemplating running for mayor. Sorry, but I can’t march into Dalton’s and buy a pregnancy test.”

  “All right. All right. But you better actually run for mayor.”

  “Doesn’t Ellie have tests at the office?”

  “I’m not going to steal a test from work.”

  “You’re not stealing it. You’re just…borrowing it.”

  “I’m not borrowing it. Nobody wants it back once I’m done, and I wouldn’t feel right about taking office supplies unless I asked her first. She’s probably hot and heavy with Tyler by now. I’m not interrupting her evening to beg a pregnancy test off her.”

  “Well, who can we get to buy it? I need to know…I mean, you need to know your status right away.”

  Melody racked her brain, but there was really only one answer. She reached into her purse and found her phone, and hit the pre-programmed number. A deep voice was already answering by the time she brought it to her ear.

  “Roger, I need a favor.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Melody filed the last patient chart and closed the cabinet as Ellie wandered up. “Ugh. It’s still only Monday, right?”

  “Right.” She slid her hands over her skirt, mostly to dry her sweaty palms, and smiled. No need to be nervous. Her relationship with Ellie had smoothed out nicely now that Roger’s secret wasn’t wedged between them. He’d come out to Ellie as soon as he’d returned from vacation, and as far as Melody could tell, Ellie had barely blinked. Whether the petite brunette knew it quite yet or not, she was totally wrapped up in Tyler Longfoot, and had been from pretty much the moment she’d returned home to Bluelick. “The good news is you’re officially done for the day.”

  Ellie smiled and tipped her head to the side to stretch her neck. “You say that like there’s bad news to follow.”

  Ellie was a perceptive woman. “I have kind of a personal medical consultation to beg from you.”

  She straightened. “Absolutely. What’s up?”

  The immediacy of Ellie’s reply, and the sincere concern brimming in her big brown eyes, calmed the worst of Melody’s nerves. “My hCG. That’s what’s up.”

  “Your what?” Ellie’s brow scrunched, but then smoothed as her eyes rounded. “Oh.” She took a step toward the closet where they kept supplies, including pregnancy tests. “Did you take a test, by any chance?”

  Second, third, and a whole separate set of tests from a different kit. Ginny and Roger had practically invaded her bathroom Friday night to supervise, to the point she’d felt like the subject of a state-ordered drug test. Melody reached into the drawer, pulled out two additional wands, and flashed the plus signs at her boss. “Check, and double check.”

  “Okay. So the next step would be a blood test. The lab has already picked up today, so let’s do a draw first thing tomorrow morning. If we’re lucky, we’ll get results by Friday. In the meantime”—she turned and reached into a drug cabinet in the office area—“if you want to cover your bases, we’ve got samples of a good prenatal vitamin with lots of calcium, iron, and folic acid.” She held out a handful of single-dose envelopes. “Just in case.”

  As Melody took the packets, a brilliant glitter on Ellie’s hand snagged her attention. “Oh my God. What is on your finger?”

  Ellie blushed and stuttered. “Nothing. A ring. It’s not important right now.”

  She grabbed Ellie’s hand and held the classic diamond solitaire up to the light. “How did I miss this all day?”

  “I’m guessing you had other things on your mind.”

  True, but still… “Dr. Swann, that is one gorgeous ring. Congratulations to you and Tyler.”

  “Thanks. Okay, enough about me. Let’s get back to you.”

  “There’s not much more to say. I might be pregnant. If I am, it’s completely unplanned and—”

  “And Josh would be the father?”

  She nodded.

  “Have you told him, or are you biting your nails all alone?”

  “I thought I’d hold off until I knew for sure.”

  “Kind of a big answer to be waiting for on your own, especially considering you didn’t create the question all by yourself.”

  “No, but I’d just as soon postpone the whole family-and-future conversation if there’s no burning need to have it now.”

  “I understand, and I know you have good friends and family close at hand, but I want you to know you can talk to me if you have any questions, or concerns, or just need an ear.”

  “Thanks, Ellie. That’s kind of you.”

  “You inspire kindness. When I dumped my whole misguided agenda with Roger on you, you were incredibly diplom
atic, and discreet, and supportive. Now I have a chance to return the kindness. I want to help, however I can.”

  “You’ve signed up for more than you know by offering to draw my blood tomorrow morning. I’m a fainter.”

  Ellie simply smiled. “I’m a good phlebotomist. By the time you realize I’ve got a needle in your arm, I’ll be done. In the meantime, get out of here. Go do something you enjoy. Something that relieves stress and helps you relax.”

  She didn’t need to be told twice. She headed home. The weekend had stretched her nerves to the fraying point. Ten minutes after saying good-night to Ellie, she walked into her bedroom, kicked off her shoes, and opened her closet with the idea of grabbing her fluffiest robe and taking a bath. Her phone rang at the same time her gaze landed on her cheerleading outfit, fresh from the dry cleaners.

  A glance at the clock on her nightstand told her it was almost six. She lifted the phone. “Hello?”

  “Where are you?”

  Josh. “I’m at home.”

  “I’m off shift in five minutes. Unlock your front door, take off all your clothes, and pick a surface.”

  Her body reacted oh-too-predictably to his words. She slipped her hand under the plastic protecting her wool and polyester past. A size four she could squeeze into at the moment, after lots of dieting and jogging. For how long? Pregnant women don’t wear a size four.

  “That’s a very interesting offer,” she replied, mostly to drown out her inner voice. Too bad her stubborn good-girl conscience refused to shut up. Playtime is over. He asked you to keep him posted.

  “‘Offer’ is the wrong word, Bluelick. Those were instructions.”

  Her fingers traced the B on the front of her cheerleading top. If she was pregnant—and the “if” seemed unlikely—by this time next week things would be very different between them. There might not even be a “them,” and this particular scenario might be off the table for a long time…possibly the rest of her life. Impulse took control of her tongue. “I have a better idea. Meet me behind the bleachers at the high school in twenty minutes.”

  She could tell him after.