All Wrapped Up (A Pine Mountain Novel)

by Kimberly Kincaid

  Wait . . . what? “You read my article on the fire at Joe’s?”

  “Sure.” Ian lifted his sandy brown brows in a nonverbal translation of why wouldn’t I? “I read everyone’s articles, actually. You know, just to be in the loop.”

  “Oh.” Ava lifted her chin in surprise. She thought she was the only person on staff who read the paper cover to cover. “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed the piece.”

  “I did. I know I seemed kind of negative about it during our weekly meeting. To be honest, I didn’t think there was a story there, especially since the source seemed difficult. But you really uncovered a good one.”

  Oh, Ian. If you only knew. “Thank you,” she said, eking out a smile.

  “You’re welcome.” Ian nodded, aiming a glance at Gary’s darkened office before lowering his voice to a murmur. “Look, I know Gary can really give you a hard time.” He paused, as if the massive understatement had jabbed him in the mouth on the way out. “But you write some really compelling pieces, Ava.”

  She proceeded with care even though Ian seemed clueless about Gary’s latest ultimatum. “That’s nice of you to say, but I’m not sure it’s the general consensus around here. I mean, I just turned in an article on the Riverside Elementary holiday show.” Ava tacked a self-deprecating smile to the words, because truly, if she couldn’t laugh, she was going to cry. “As excited as the kids were to sing Christmas carols and recite Hanukkah poems, it’s hardly riveting stuff.”

  “Yeah, but you still treat it as if it is. You respect the story no matter what.”

  The shock of Ian’s straight-up reply rebounded through her rib cage, and after her third attempt at a response, she finally made something stick.

  “Well, sure, but that’s just part of the job.” She might not take her own achievements seriously, but she always gave her career—and the stories that went with the job—the respect it deserved. Come to think of it, so did Ian.

  “I’m not sure that’s the general consensus around here, either. But I can tell you’re a good reporter. And I just thought . . . well, that someone should tell you.” Ian stuffed his hands into the pockets of his work-creased khakis, examining the carpet in front of him as if it had suddenly become breaking news. “Anyway . . . have a good night.”

  Ava stared after Ian for a full five minutes before stepping back to gather her belongings, her thoughts caught in a rough churn. While she’d made strong storytelling her number one priority since the minute she’d started at the Daily, she couldn’t help but admit that her screwup nearly five years ago still haunted her more than she’d like it to. Not that Gary’s constant reminders were exactly conducive to moving up and moving on, but at this stage in the game, some wholehearted trust in herself might not hurt.

  But it might not help, either, because Ava needed the mother of all stories, and if she trusted her instincts, they’d lead her right smack to Brennan’s doorstep.

  Again.

  “No,” Ava whispered, shaking her head for emphasis even though no one could see her. She sat back down in her desk chair, nailing her decency back into place with each passing breath. Yes, the rescue squad part of Brennan’s story had lit her curiosity like a twenty-pound bottle rocket, and okay, fine, it was possible the rescue squad hero angle would make a brilliant personal interest article, especially given Pine Mountain’s tight-knit community.

  But Brennan was still clearly on team no comment with regard to the spotlight. He might have opened up about the job itself, and even told her about the situation following his rehab, but he’d clearly still dodged the specifics of how he’d sustained such a devastating injury. Something really massive had to have gone down for him to be hurt so badly that he got hooked on painkillers in the aftermath.

  What is Nick Brennan hiding?

  Before the movement even registered, Ava had replanted herself in her desk chair, her heartbeat pulsing to warp speed in her veins. She flipped her laptop open with a snick, pulling up the blank tab on her search engine.

  “Come on, come on,” she whispered, biting her bottom lip in concentration as she tapped one finger against the edge of her keyboard. “I know you’re in here somewhere. Talk to me.”

  Nick Brennan, Fairview Rescue Squad.

  A hundred and nineteen thousand results popped over her screen, and excitement flared to life in Ava’s belly. But after ten minutes of intense scrolling and even more intense hoping, not one of those results yielded a scrap about her Nick Brennan.

  “Damn it.” Okay, so it wasn’t entirely a shock, considering he’d barely made the rescue squad before getting hurt. But it was going to take a whole lot more than ten minutes of fruitless searching to knock her off her game. This story was worthy of being told. If only she could find it.

  Fairview, VA, firefighter injured on the job.

  “A-ha!” Ava’s cheeks prickled with triumphant heat. “Getting warmer.”

  Except after a quick yet thorough scan of the archives of the local paper and the public records from the Fairview City database, the omission of names within each article became glaringly apparent. Not entirely uncommon in news articles where either firefighters or police officers had been injured, but God—the details of each blaze and the injuries sustained by the men and women who fought them outlined in vivid detail just how dangerous being a firefighter really was.

  And just how brave you had to be to make it not only your job, but your passion.

  Ava sat back in her chair, her thoughts moving nearly too fast to harness. The rescue squad had snagged her undiluted interest ever since the two words had passed Brennan’s lips at lunch today. The brand of high-level devotion, the extensive training, the pure intensity that had to go with the jobs those firefighters performed—all of it rattled and echoed and whispered in Ava’s mind.

  Just because Brennan had been injured and didn’t think he was a hero didn’t mean the rest of the world would agree. He’d saved a little boy’s life with limited regard for his own, and after what she’d uncovered today, Ava would bet the bank that the rescue at Joe’s was far from Brennan’s first. These rescue squad guys were trained to run into danger, headfirst and hesitation free, when no one else could help. Sometimes at the cost of their careers, even their well-being.

  The whole thing—with Brennan sitting front and center—had all the makings of a truly engaging, high-impact story. One that Ava knew all the way to her marrow she could tell with poignant respect. Just like it deserved.

  If only she could convince Brennan that in spite of all he’d lost to his devastating injury, he was worthy of the airtime.

  One hour, seven Web sites, and sixteen handwritten pages of groundwork later, Ava’s cell phone sounded off from beneath a pile of printouts on her desk. After a swift excavation, she flipped the thing into her palm to check the caller ID.

  Her full-face grin was as instant as it was involuntary, but she scaled it down to a flirtatious smile before tapping the icon to accept the call.

  “I must say, you’re taking this whole stuck-with-me thing very seriously, Mr. Brennan.”

  A dark and sexy chuckle rumbled over the line, and Ava clasped the phone tighter in an effort to keep both the sound and the sentiment close. “As you so eloquently pointed out last week, I’m quite good at taking things seriously, Ms. Mancuso. I don’t see the purpose in half measures. If I’m going to do something, I’m going to do it right.”

  “I’m shocked to hear you say that,” Ava teased, her tone balancing out the lie. Everything about Brennan screamed all in, from his intensely decadent stares to his hotter than hellfire kisses.

  Oh God. Ava wanted to be all in with him. Right now.

  “Speaking of serious . . .” Brennan trailed off, his voice rich with suggestion that shot right between Ava’s thighs. “It’s way past time for you to leave work, don’t you think?”

  Her eyes flickered over her fabric-bound notebook, and she snapped it closed with a sweep of her hand. “What makes you think I’m still at wor
k?”

  “Aren’t you?” he asked, the question catching her point blank in the chest.

  “Well . . . yeah.” She laughed in soft admission. “I guess I don’t see the purpose in half measures either.”

  “Maybe you should redirect all that seriousness into something else.”

  Ava’s pulse thrummed with instant heat. “Like what?”

  “Like me.”

  She let out a breath full of desire and surprise, her eyes dropping to the notebook under her fingers. “Nick, I—”

  “I miss you,” he said, and just like that, all her thoughts jostled to a halt.

  “What?”

  “Look, I’m not very good at this, so I’m just going to say it. For seven years, I wondered what we could’ve had. Now that I have the chance to find out, I don’t want to screw it up by not being honest. I can’t make any promises about what will happen down the line, but right now I miss you. I want you to come over, and I want you to stay. Be with me, Ava. Tonight. Right now. Be with me.”

  For a second, Ava couldn’t even think, let alone speak. But the truth in his voice replaced her shock with realization.

  Brennan might keep his feelings close to the vest, but he was a good man. A worthy man. A man she wanted right now more than her next breath.

  And Ava needed to show him.

  “Stay right where you are. I’m on my way.”

  Ava pulled up to Brennan’s apartment building, her eyes zeroed in on his door from a hundred yards away. A bitter wind whipped across the parking lot, nearly knocking the breath out of her chest as she strode over the concrete walkway, but Ava didn’t care. She didn’t waste a single step as her feet measured the distance along the cheerily decorated thresholds, her heart in her throat as she finally stopped to place a knock dead-center on Brennan’s door.

  “Hey, that was . . . Jesus, Ava!” Brennan barked, pulling the door wide. “Where’s your coat?”

  She stepped inside the apartment, propelled by an unknown force she couldn’t fight even if she’d wanted to. “In my car.” Her arms flashed around Brennan’s shoulders, her mouth capturing his surprised laugh as it escaped.

  “Are you out of your mind? It’s twenty degrees outside,” he murmured, the vibration of the words making her lips tingle.

  She kissed him again, long and deep. “Mmm-hmm. Coats take time.”

  “You’re crazy.” The affirmation came out hushed and reverent, melting over her skin.

  “Your fault. Come here.”

  Ava slid her hands up the back of his neck, thrusting her fingers through the just-messy-enough fall of his hair to hold him close. Brennan’s body stilled against hers, nothing moving but the rapid rise and fall of his chest, and oh God, even fully clothed, the contact sent her into a full-body buzz.

  She slanted her mouth upward, meeting his lips again in a kiss brimming over with want and greed. A groan broke loose from his throat as he let Ava kiss him, let her explore his shockingly soft lips with bold, hard sweeps of her tongue. Brennan gave her the lead she craved, and she took it without thought, parting his mouth even farther in search of more.

  Anchoring his heated palms over her hips, he swung her into the softly lit apartment, letting his back absorb the harsh chill from outside as he kicked the front door closed.

  “You’re freezing,” he said, dipping his mouth to cover the bare stretch of skin between her ear and the open collar of her blouse. “Let me warm you up.”

  Ava’s sigh of pleasure pushed past her lips, her nipples tightening beneath her satin bra as Brennan guided her through the foyer without easing his hold on her waist. They fumbled their way past the living room, too tangled up in each other to be graceful but too turned on to care. Brennan’s hands skated from her waist to her shoulders, sliding around to cup her face. He parted her lips with his, nibbling, tasting, sucking, until finally the kiss became so hot with suggestion, Ava’s knees nearly buckled.

  Oh, no. No way. Brennan might be able to make her scream with little more than a touch, but Ava refused to go weak. Not now.

  Not when she was supposed to be showing him how she felt.

  Ava dug her feet into the floorboards, stopping their forward movement in the shadows of the hallway. Brennan’s brows punched downward in concern, but she coasted a finger over the spot between them to cancel it out. Angling his frame against the sturdy expanse of the wall beside them, Ava notched her hips over Brennan’s with a thrust.

  “What are you doing?” His eyes darkened, nearly black and glittering with lust as he wrapped his fingers around the tailored edge of her dress pants to return the movement. But as unbelievably promising as his cock felt pressed against her belly, this moment wasn’t about taking pleasure.

  It was about giving it.

  She bit her bottom lip, refusing to break eye contact as she lowered her hands to the top button on his jeans. “I’m warming you up.” The button popped loose with one deft tug.

  “Ava.”

  The word was a warning and a prayer, and she thrilled at both. “Brennan.”

  Ava freed another button from its mooring in the denim, and his reply became lost on a moan. Brennan’s head tilted back, pleasure etched over his face as he dropped his hands to give her full access to his body. Desire pulsed through Ava’s limbs, curling down her spine, tingling hard in the damp space between her thighs as she pulled at the remaining buttons.

  Through dark, lowered lashes, Brennan watched her movements one by one, until finally—blessedly—Ava slipped the last button free. Her fingers ached from wanting to touch him, starting at the line of silky black hair leading into his boxer briefs and diving lower, sweeter. He canted his hips off the wall as if seeking the same contact Ava was starving for, and she reached down with every intention of giving it to him until they both lost their minds.

  Brennan reversed their positions in less than a blink.

  Ava’s breath rode out on the hard edge of a gasp. Although he’d captured her wrist with one hand to swing her back to the wall, both his motion and his grasp were far from forceful. Brennan stepped toward the cradle of her body, his eyes tracking lower as his lush, wicked mouth curved into a grin.

  “Sorry, Spitfire. Ladies first.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Brennan wanted nothing more than to slow down. He wanted to spend an hour tasting the sweet, hidden spots on Ava’s neck that would make her cry out, to undress her stitch by stitch so he could discover every inch of her with his hands, then slowly rediscover the best places with his mouth. But from the minute she’d walked through his front door, determined and headstrong and so goddamn beautiful, Brennan had fought a losing battle.

  He wanted her more than anything. And she made him crazy enough to take her, fast and hard and standing in the hallway.

  “Brennan—”

  He cut off her protest with a punishing kiss, sliding his tongue over hers until she sighed against his mouth. Reaching to the tight stretch of space between them, Brennan lifted her shirt from the top of her dress pants, unfastening the closure on the black wool with an economical twist.

  Ava’s hands found his in the shadows twining their bodies, but rather than trying to slow him or turn the tables, she urged him faster. Her pants whispered to the floorboards at their feet, and Brennan followed their downward motion with his hands.

  “Step out.” Christ, just the hint of her bare skin so close to his was enough to make him want to come.

  She reached for his waist, sinking her fingers around the open denim. “After you.”

  “No.”

  Ava stilled. “But I want to make you feel good too.”

  Something Brennan had no name for broke loose in his chest. He stepped forward in a rush, covering Ava with his lips, his shoulders, his hips.

  “Don’t you get it?” he grated, exhaling hard and hot over her ear. “You make me feel everything. Right now, the only thing I want is to have you under my hands so I can make you scream. You want to make me lose my mind
? Step out of those pants and let me touch you.”

  Ava toed her way from first her shoes, then the garment, hands pressed over his chest for balance. Brennan was certain she could feel the slamming of his heartbeat beneath the thin cotton of his T-shirt.

  But then she was wearing nothing from the waist down but a pair of tiny blue panties, and Brennan couldn’t make himself care about anything other than the sight of her.

  “God. Look at you.” Instinctively, Brennan dropped to his knees, wrapping his palms over Ava’s hips to keep the ice blue lace directly in his line of sight. She froze in place, her body bowstring tight beneath his hands, and all at once Brennan realized how vulnerable she was in this moment.

  And yet, she made no move to hide.

  “Ava.” He lifted his gaze, pinning her wide-eyed stare with one of his own. Her coal black hair spilled over her shoulders, a sultry contrast to the white of her blouse in the shadows. Her nipples stood in sweet relief behind the sheer fabric, cresting higher with each rapid breath. But it was her skin that tempted him the most, the scent of brown sugar and desire making his cock unbearably hard as he skimmed a touch over the indent where her thighs met her core.

  “Look,” Brennan repeated, silently commanding her eyes downward as he angled his shoulders between the cradle of her hips. Her eyes lowered without closing, and he felt the intensity of her watching his every move. He shifted toward the incandescent light filtering in from down the hallway, placing a kiss below her navel. “Look at what you do to me.”

  Without warning, he hooked his thumbs beneath the lace riding low on Ava’s hips, tugging it over her thighs to reveal her sex. Holy hell, she was stunning, all wet and wanting and perfect, and it was all Brennan had not to rip the lace off her rather than guide it the rest of the way down.

  Even completely bare and laid out in front of him like a lush and wicked banquet, Ava didn’t hide.

  And as much as he knew he should, Brennan didn’t wait.