Light Her Fire

by Samanthe Beck

  She chewed the inside of her cheek. “I haven’t told him yet.”

  “Melody!”

  “False positives occur. I read up. There’s such a thing as a chemical pregnancy. Thirty to fifty percent of fertilized eggs end up as a chemical pregnancy, meaning I was pregnant enough to trigger the test, but nothing develops. Why have the discussion if it’s a false alarm?”

  “The only reason you would read up on false positives is because you’re looking to validate what you know in your heart is an unfair decision. Are you worried about how he’ll react?”

  “No. I’m not worried.” “Terrified” described her better, because if the man on the other end of the phone had taught her anything, it was that fairy tales and happy endings proved elusive, even when everything seemed perfect.

  “He deserves to know he’s going to be a father, Mel. He has legal obligations.”

  “I may not have gone to law school,” she snapped, “but I do realize that.” As soon as the words were out, she winced at her tone. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to start an argument. It’s just…I don’t know this guy, and you’re hesitating to tell him, and your hesitation makes me think you’re concerned he won’t step up.”

  And that’s what she got for sniping at a loved one. “Don’t worry. Josh understands duty, and responsibility, and he’s not the type of man to shirk either.”

  “Then tell him what’s happening so you can both figure out how to make this situation work.”

  And there, in a hard little nutshell, sat the core of her reluctance. The realist inside her warned making things work would require a whole lot of compromise and sacrifice on both their parts, which, in her experience, meant there would be no happy ending. Meanwhile, the starry-eyed idiot living in her heart was holding out for the happy ending. The last few nights her subconscious had treated her to a recurring dream of a white cottage with a swing in the backyard, and Josh pushing a blond-haired, turquoise-eyed toddler who laughed and squealed, “Higher, Daddy!”

  “I’ll tell him soon,” she promised. “I actually considered telling him yesterday, but the moment never presented itself, what with the fire at the high school.”

  “Yeah. I heard you were right there on scene. What the heck were you doing at the high school?”

  “Gee Roger, I don’t know. I guess you could say I was cheering Josh up—until we were interrupted by a fire alarm.”

  “Cheering him up? What the…? Oh. Ohhhh.” He drawled the sound out as the full implications sank in.

  “Yeah, ‘oh.’”

  “Yikes. Sorry to hear that. Are they calling last night’s fire arson, too?”

  “The sheriff sent debris to the lab to get an official ruling, but Josh is certain. Unfortunately that doesn’t put them any closer to finding the culprit.”

  “No, but at least he doesn’t have to browbeat the sheriff into investigating, or battle with Buchanan over involving them.”

  “Maybe. I think he still feels like Buchanan is interfering.” He certainly hadn’t seemed any less exasperated when he’d arrived at her place last night. Things probably worked much differently in a larger, more sophisticated department. He wouldn’t have to deal with small-town mayors or county sheriffs trying to tell him how to do his job.

  She understood his frustration. His exhaustion had been harder to see, but by the time she’d fed him, sent him up to her bathroom to shower while she cleaned the dishes, and then wandered upstairs with the idea of talking to him, he was already naked in her bed…fast asleep.

  And her heart—the one that hadn’t learned an ounce of caution after all this time—built all sorts of nonsense out of his choosing to sleep in her bed instead of going home. He came for the second half of the cheerleading show and ran out of steam. Nothing more.

  “Melody?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Whatever happens, I’m here for you. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I do. But thanks for reminding me.”

  “Any time. Do you think you could be happy with Josh?”

  She thought about how she’d crawled into bed last night, and he’d murmured in his sleep and pulled her close. She’d drifted off with the heat of his body pressed to her back and his arms around her, and dreamed of a white cottage. But what had he dreamed about? Someplace far away from Bluelick? She swallowed the uncomfortable tightness in her throat. “I don’t know.”

  …

  Her words echoed in her mind days later as she watched Josh come around the front of the Yukon to help her out. She smoothed the skirt of her little black dress into place and plastered a smile on her face, hoping the headache and nausea that had swum into her system during the drive to Cincinnati didn’t show. Mostly because she still hadn’t told him she might be pregnant. She couldn’t seem to find the right moment. He’d spent the last few days riding the sheriff’s department and the lab, pushing people to move aggressively on investigating the fire at the high school. She’d thought about telling him tonight, but nixed the idea when he arrived at her door looking more happy and relaxed than she’d seen him in days. He deserved this—a fun night out with his friends.

  Unfortunately, the last half hour of stop-and-go traffic had nearly done her in. How did people suffer it on a daily basis? Before she could contemplate an answer, the passenger door swung open, and Josh offered her his hand.

  She took it and slid out of the truck. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He looked tall and broad and unfairly handsome in his dark suit. When he’d arrived at her doorstep, she realized she’d never seen him in a suit before—and she’d been missing out. She drew in a breath and, stalling for time to settle her stomach, asked, “Do you like my dress?”

  He closed the passenger door and took a long, unhurried inspection of her in the short black cocktail dress. Then he backed her up against the truck until her breasts rested against his chest and the weight of his erection pressed warm and solid against her middle. “Does this answer your question?”

  Heat settled between her legs, providing an instant cure for her headache and upset stomach. Maybe she was just carsick? “Yes, I believe it does.”

  “We could skip the party.”

  He was joking, of course, but a part of her wanted to take him up on his suggestion. She wasn’t much in the mood to meet a bunch of strangers. Still, she shook her head. “No way. We drove a long way to attend this shindig. Besides, tonight is my chance to get the dirt on you from your former coworkers.”

  “They’ve been sworn to secrecy.” His expression sobered. He ran a finger along her jaw and gave her an assessing look. “You’re pale.”

  “I felt a little carsick on the way here, but it’s backing off now that I’m on solid ground.”

  “I thought you seemed distracted during the drive. You should have said something.”

  She shrugged and gave him what she hoped was a convincing smile. Distracted didn’t begin to describe her state of mind. Ellie had called the lab earlier in the afternoon to prod them for the pregnancy test results, only to be informed they wouldn’t be ready until tomorrow. Pretending everything was normal felt next to impossible.

  “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

  He’d been looking forward to tonight all week, and here he was, offering to forgo his chance to see his old crew, his friends, and his mentor, just because she was feeling a bit off. Sacrifice, a voice inside her whispered. It’s what people in relationships did, and he offered his up without hesitation. She battled back a strong temptation to take him up on the offer. Not because she felt ill, but because doing so allowed her to avoid the other worry plaguing her mind. Other than his lingering complaints about Buchanan, Josh had seemed content with Bluelick. Would the reminders of his past dislodge the newfound contentment and reaffirm his determination to leave Bluelick for a more action-packed destination when the opportunity arose? Perhaps even hasten his efforts to find the next oppo
rtunity?

  “Bluelick?”

  He stared down at her with genuine concern, and she couldn’t let him do it. Sacrifice, the voice in her head repeated. It won’t kill you to smile, suck it up, and let him enjoy the evening.

  “I’m looking forward to tonight. Come on.” She took his hand. “Let’s party.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Josh tucked Melody’s hand into the crook of his arm and walked with her toward Strattons. The bar’s familiar carved-wood-and-brass-handled doors separated them from a whole slew of people he’d lived and worked with for years, and hadn’t seen in months. Yet anticipation for the reunion remained strangely elusive. He put his less-than-festive mood down to the long drive from Bluelick to Cincinnati, made more challenging by evening gridlock once they’d reached the city. He didn’t remember traffic being so bad, but then again, he hadn’t dealt with any in months. Crowded roads were a nonissue in Bluelick.

  He held the door and ushered Melody into the bar. Loud, dimly lit, and packed with people, it was an immediate assault on the senses. The scents of perfume and beer battled for dominance. They’d barely cleared the threshold when a voice boomed, “Josh!” and a hand clapped his back.

  He turned to find three of the guys he’d come up the ranks with grinning at him. “Melody, meet Bill Bassinger, Hank Renfro, and Dillon Marks. We were rookies together. I believe the three of them still are.”

  She smiled, shook hands, and ignored what he considered their overly appreciative stares. Bill squeezed his shoulder. “How’s early retirement working out for you, Bradley?”

  “Did you come up with that joke all by yourself, Widemouth?”

  “Stick around, I’ve got a million of them. You enjoying life in…what’s it called again? Bluestick? Bluedick?”

  The other two laughed. Beside him, Melody stiffened. He wasn’t sure if she was offended on his behalf or on behalf of her hometown, but she was definitely offended.

  Her blue eyes flashed as she turned to Bill. “Those of us in Bluelick are grateful to have Chief Bradley leading our fire department. His instincts and expertise have been invaluable.”

  “No doubt, sweetness,” Dillon replied. “Your little town has the services of one of Cincinnati’s finest. Your volunteer squad probably doesn’t know what hit it.”

  Melody’s eyes narrowed to twin blue lasers. “Bluelick may not be Cincinnati, but the town has had interests to protect for a long time. We’ve employed a force of professional firefighters since the late eighteen hundreds. Josh isn’t heading up a volunteer squad. He has the support of a team of career firemen.” She tipped her head back and looked down her perfect little nose at all three guys. “From what I’ve seen so far, he’s taken a big step up.”

  The guys groaned and feigned protecting their private parts. “Oh, man.” Widemouth laughed. “Have you seen my dick? I think someone just cut it off with her razor-sharp wit.”

  Josh laughed. “Widemouth, I hate to break it to you, but you’ve been dickless for a long time.”

  Renfro—over-served and convinced of his own charm—decided to jump into the conversation. “Beautiful, smart, and feisty. Are there any more down there like this one, Josh? I’m thinking maybe I should transfer to Bluedick and see if anybody’s grateful for my…uh…what’d she call ’em? Oh, yeah, instincts and expertise.”

  Before he could disabuse Renfro of the notion he had any instincts or expertise whatsoever, another voice, familiar and commanding, cut in.

  “Josh. Glad you could make it.”

  “Wouldn’t have missed your big night, Chief.” He turned and clasped hands with his mentor. “This is Melody.”

  Chief Warren smiled and took her hand. “Nice to meet you, Melody.”

  “Congratulations on twenty-five years with the CFD. That’s quite a milestone.”

  “Thank you. I’m appreciative the department saw fit to throw a party, but mostly, it makes me feel old. Would you mind very much if I borrowed your date for a moment?”

  “Oh.” She shot Josh a bewildered look. He had no idea what Warren wanted, so he shrugged. She shifted her gaze back to the chief and said, “No, of course not.”

  “Don’t worry about this one,” Dillon said, and gestured toward Melody. “We’ll take good care of her for you.”

  Melody’s expression said, “hell no,” louder than words ever could. She turned to him and clipped out, “Ladies’ room?”

  “Down the hall at the far end of the bar,” he told her. “I’ll wait for you here.”

  “Fine.” She turned and walked away.

  Warren addressed the three stooges. “Excuse us, gentlemen.”

  Within seconds they had a bubble of space to themselves.

  Josh eyed Chief Warren. At sixty, after a decade behind the big desk, he looked every inch a commander. His brown hair had succumbed to more gray, and a few new lines of stress showed around his forehead and eyes, but otherwise, he was the same man who had stared across his desk at Josh four months ago and advised him to stick with the CFD. “Congratulations, sir.”

  “Thanks, Bradley. Look, I know you left CFD because you wanted to reach the next level in your career sooner rather than later, and you didn’t see it happening if you stayed put because you had people like me in your way—”

  “No disrespect, Chief,” Josh interrupted, because he didn’t want another lecture on the virtues of patience. “You trained me well. It’s thanks to you I feel ready for the next step.”

  “I appreciate you saying so. What if I were to tell you the next step is here in Cincinnati?”

  “I would say, I don’t understand.”

  “I’m retiring, Josh. Syl was diagnosed with cancer this spring, and her prognosis isn’t good. We kept the news close until I figured out what I wanted to do.” He shook his head. “I’ve figured it out. I have my pension. We’re comfortable. My family needs me. The city can find another qualified fire chief, but I’m the only husband she has, and family is my priority. It’s time for me to pass the torch. The powers that be would like very much if I passed it to you.”

  In the back of his mind, Josh realized the chief had presented him with an opportunity, but he couldn’t get past the news about Warren’s wife. Sylvia Warren was a vivacious woman with sleek blond hair and laughing blue eyes. A lot like Melody, actually, and if anything happened to her…he couldn’t even go there, and they’d barely been together a month, much less married for twenty-some years.

  “I’m sorry about Mrs. Warren. I don’t know what to say.”

  “Thank you. She and I would like to think something good comes of this, so say you’ll come back and take over as chief. I think you’re familiar with the pay and benefits, as well as the scope of the duties.”

  “I am—and I can’t say I’m not tempted. I think you know a role like the one you’re offering has always been my goal…” But even as he said the words, he thought about Melody.

  “You’d be the youngest chief of a department our size in a long time, but you were born for this job, and everyone knows it. Your father would be proud. Don’t stand there and say you’re tempted. Tell me yes.”

  His conscience cautioned him to talk the offer over with Melody, because he suddenly realized he couldn’t picture his future without her in it. Somewhere between shooting her suggestive looks in Boone’s Market and snuggling up next to her when he dragged his sorry ass to her bed after a late night on the job, he’d fallen. Fast and hard and un-fucking-deniably in love with her. But her? She wanted simple and easy. Moving away from the home she loved? Changing her entire life around to fit his ambitions? None of that struck him as simple or easy.

  But his ambitions were hard to ignore, more so because fulfilling them went hand in hand with securing the approval of a man who’d been like a father to him, and attaining a goal fate had deprived his actual father of achieving.

  “Yes” tumbled out of his mouth before his brain fully vetted the response. “I accept the job.” You’ll talk her into i
t.

  The chief smiled and pumped his hand. “Excellent. Syl will be pleased, and so am I.” He patted Josh’s shoulder. “Go find your girl and tell her the good news so she forgives me for commandeering you.”

  “Will do,” he managed, still shell-shocked by the events of the last five minutes. But when he looked around the bar, “his girl” was nowhere in sight.

  …

  Melody ignored a trio of women around her age who stood nearby, eyeing her and whispering. She didn’t need their unfriendly stares and hushed comments to know she didn’t fit in here. Instead she focused on her goal and shouldered her way through the door to the ladies’ room. The barrier swung closed behind her, muting the noise of the party enough to allow her to hear herself think. What a nightmare.

  She walked to the sink and ran cool water over her hands and wrists. It helped—a little—but couldn’t alleviate the real source of her discomfort. She was hot under her proverbial collar, after less than five minutes at this so-called party. Too crowded. Too loud. And packed with people who wouldn’t know good manners from a swift kick in the behind. The ones she’d met so far had disparaged her hometown and Josh’s role there as soon as they’d opened their mouths. Then the man of the hour had swooped in, spared her a greeting, and basically asked her to get lost while he spoke privately with her date. No one in Bluelick would treat a stranger like a stray dog. She’d cool her jets in here until she could be civil, and then get out there, find Josh, tell him her headache and upset stomach were back with a vengeance—completely true at this point—and ask him to take her home. Maybe by the time they made it back to her place she’d be in a frame of mind to make it up to him for leaving the party early.

  Liking the plan, she turned off the water, dried her hands, and took her compact and lipstick out of her purse. Three women came into the restroom laughing and talking. The clique she’d passed on the way in. Perfect.

  “Say.” The tallest one, a lithe brunette, stretched her mouth into a big, fake smile and approached Melody. “You’re Josh’s date, aren’t you?”