Beautiful Burn (Maddox Brothers #4)

by Jamie McGuire

  “So, um.” He shoved his hands in his tan cargo pants. “You and Paige…”

  “There is no me and Paige.”

  “No? Why? Someone said you and her might be … You like guys, right? I mean … you’d have to after the night we had. I just can’t figure you out.”

  “What’s to figure out?”

  A grin slowly made its way across his face. “You, Ellie. I’m trying to figure you out.”

  “You’re talking to me again.”

  “I thought maybe this time it would be okay.”

  “Why?”

  His eyebrows pulled in. He was getting frustrated. “Do you, uh … still think about that night?”

  “Not really, no.”

  He sighed. “It’s been a month, Ellie.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “I still think about it.”

  I took a breath, hoping I could exhale away how he made me feel. “We’ve talked about this,” I said, continuing my trek to the MountainEar.

  “Ellie,” he said, chuckling nervously. “Could you stop and talk to me for just a second?”

  I stopped, lifting my chin to meet his gaze. “So are you interested in me because I didn’t just fade away like the rest of your one-night stands, because of my father, or because I may or may not be into guys?”

  “None of the above. Why are you being so difficult?”

  “It was one night, Tyler. I was a different person then. I don’t want to be attracted to the sweaty fighter willing to take a drunk girl to bed anymore.”

  He shoved his fists in his pockets and squinted one eye—that damned dimple in his cheek making another appearance. “You don’t want to be, but you are.”

  He was so overconfident my insults didn’t faze him. He was too arrogant to believe me.

  I kept walking. “You’re making this difficult. I’m trying to be clear. Just because I may not be at my strongest at the moment doesn’t mean I’m trying to send you mixed signals.”

  “I’ve already taken you to bed. I was going to ask if you wanted to hang out.”

  I stopped to scan his face, deciding if he was telling the truth or not. There was hope in his eyes, maybe a little bit of fear. Tyler was tall and bulky and wrestled with wildfires for a living, but he was scared of me, and with good reason. Behind all that muscle and badassery, Tyler was good, and that meant I was bad for him—even if I was better than I used to be.

  “I can’t hang out with you.”

  He continued as if he hadn’t heard me. “I’m off at ten tonight.”

  “I’m in bed by ten.”

  “What about breakfast? You don’t have to be at work until nine, right?”

  “Because I like to sleep in, genius.”

  “Are you a bacon and eggs girl? Or pancakes?”

  I frowned. They both sounded fantastic. A free breakfast was as good as a free dinner, and Sally had decided she wasn’t going to allow Maricela to add to the pantry until I spoke to my parents on the phone—which I didn’t plan to do … ever. I wasn’t turning my life around for them; I was doing it for Finley, and that meant I would soon be living on Ramen noodles unless Maricela took pity on me and brought over some of her famous tamales.

  Free breakfast sounded perfect, but using someone for food, knowing he was interested in me, wasn’t being the good person I was trying to be. “No.”

  “No?” he asked, surprised.

  “I’m sort of busy with myself. I’m sure you can find another girl to hang out with.”

  My feet finally decided to complain about the cold three steps into my walk to the MountainEar. The door chimed when I pushed through the front door, fading while I stomped my boots on the mat.

  “I was beginning to wonder if you were coming back,” Jojo said. Her bright smile faded. “Did you know Maddox is outside?”

  I turned to see Tyler standing outside the door, his hands in his jacket pocket, waiting.

  I pointed to the windows, demanding that he go back where he came from. He shook his head.

  “What are you doing?” Jojo asked.

  “How do you get rid of these guys? He’s like gum stuck to the bottom of my shoe.”

  “I couldn’t tell you. I’m fairly certain Maddox has never waited outside in the cold for any girl. You should make him wait until he turns blue. You know … for the rest of us.” She held out her hand. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  I pulled the small card from the camera and handed it to her. Excitement lit her face as she inserted the card into the side of her monitor and sat, the wheels whining as she scooted her chair closer.

  My fingers were red and frozen, and I wondered how they’d managed to work while outside for that long in sub-freezing temperatures. Quickly getting the right adjustments and shot became an obsession, making it easy to lose track of time. Even standing next to Jojo while she clicked through the hundreds of photos, I wanted to go back out and do it again.

  Jojo shook her head and perched her elbow on the desk, cupping her chin in her hand. She covered her mouth with her fingers, the clicking of the mouse getting faster.

  “I don’t even know what to say.”

  “The truth. I’ll still have the assistant job if they suck, right?”

  “They don’t suck.”

  “They don’t?”

  “These are incredible!”

  I took a deep breath. “They are?”

  “Daddy!” Jojo called, sounding more like an impatient pre-teen than a young woman capable of managing an entire business.

  Wick hurried out of his office, hobbling but motivated. “They’re good?”

  “See for yourself,” Jojo said, still clicking the mouse.

  I crossed my arms, feeling my skin burn as it slowly warmed, and shifted my weight, unsure how to take their reaction. Wick put one hand on his daughter’s shoulder, bending over to get a closer look at the monitor.

  “Ellison,” Wick said, staring at the screen. “These aren’t bad, kid.”

  “Yeah?” I said, sniffing.

  He stood upright and patted me on the shoulder. “She needs an assignment, Jojo. Not any of the usual boring shit, either. Something both the locals and tourists want to know more about. Something exciting. Sexy!”

  Jojo frowned. “Ew. Don’t say that, Daddy.”

  Tyler finally pushed through the door. “I’m not leaving.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Don’t you have a job to do?”

  Wick snapped his fingers. “Yes! That’s it!”

  “What’s it?” Jojo asked.

  “Ellie’s first assignment!” He pointed to Tyler. “She can follow the hotshot crew. We know the basics, but what do they really do? How dangerous is their job? How physically arduous? What does it take to be a hotshot? Who are they? What do they do in their down time?”

  “No,” I said, more begging than answering.

  “Oh my God, Daddy, that’s brilliant!”

  “Jojo,” I pleaded. “I’m not a journalist.”

  “I’ll help you,” Jojo said. “I can rewrite it, or write the whole damn thing if I have to. You just take notes and get the pictures.”

  Wick smiled, all of his yellow teeth on display. He puffed out his chest, proud of his daughter. “This is going to be a feature. Edson and Wick. It could get picked up by the AP.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Are we sure this is even possible?” I asked. “I’m sure there are safety concerns.”

  Wick pointed to Tyler. “Make this happen, Maddox. I’m calling in a favor.”

  “Don’t call in a favor,” I said.

  Tyler took a step toward Jojo’s desk. “I’m sure I could work it out with the superintendent. I have the day off tomorrow. I could take her in and speak with him.”

  I sighed and raked my fingers through my hair, pleading to Wick and Jojo with my eyes. “Stop. Let’s think about this for two seconds. You want my first assignment—as an amateur photographer—to be a featured story about following hotshots into fires?
Really?”

  Jojo turned off her computer, slipped on her coat, and winked at me. “Bring me back something amazing.”

  “It’s my second day of taking photographs. You want amazing?”

  “I have faith in you,” Jojo said. “Get out of here. Work day is over, and José is outside.”

  I trudged to my office to gather my things. When I returned to the lobby, Tyler was standing in the dark, chatting with Jojo about my assignment. Jojo had already turned off the lights and was waiting for me to leave, keys in hand to lock up behind me.

  Tyler walked with me to the curb where the Audi was parked, white clouds puffing from the exhaust. Sally hadn’t authorized the use of the car, but José was certain my parents wouldn’t want me walking miles in the snow.

  I wasn’t as sure.

  “So … breakfast tomorrow before we go in? My treat.”

  “This isn’t a joke to me,” I said. “I need this job. If I screw this up—”

  “You won’t. I’ll make sure you have plenty to shoot. Let me buy you breakfast before we go to the station. We’ll talk about presenting it to my boss, and I’ll have a better idea of what you want.”

  “I don’t know what I want.”

  “Okay,” he said, the dimple in his cheek appearing. “Either way, after breakfast is over, you’ll have a better idea of what you want.”

  The Audi’s back door creaked as I opened it.

  “Ellie…”

  “Just remember this,” I said. “This wasn’t my fault. I tried to save you the trouble.”

  “I’m a firefighter, Ellie. I do the saving in this relationship.”

  I slid into the back seat and closed the door. Tyler tapped on the window, and I rolled it down. “This is not a relationship.”

  “I’ve told you before—I’m open to friends with benefits,” he said with a wide grin.

  “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

  “Me?” Tyler said, touching his chest. “Nah!”

  I rolled up the window as José pulled away. The leather seats were warm, and I rubbed my fingerless gloves together.

  José turned left onto the highway for home, glancing at me in the mirror.

  “You look happy, miss.”

  I stared out the window at the lights breaking through the dark. “I think what you’re seeing is irritation.”

  “You have a guest this evening.”

  “A guest?” I asked. “Please tell me it’s not Sterling. Or my parents. Fuck, it’s not my parents, is it?”

  José chuckled. “Neither. The girl with blue hair.”

  “Paige?”

  He nodded.

  “How long has she been there?”

  “Almost an hour. She brought cookies. They’re good.”

  “You ate my cookies?”

  “No, Miss Ellie. She brought four dozen.”

  “She must know Sally is trying to starve me to death.”

  José slowed at the gate, and then passed through, driving leisurely down the drive and stopping in front of the house next to an eighties model Hyundai hatchback. The blue paint was chipped, and a long scrape and dent spanned from front fender to back seat. The car was cute but beat up—no more perfect car for Paige.

  She greeted me in the foyer, throwing her arms around me. She was wrapped in a blanket that smelled like Finley, nothing but her head, hands, and tattered red Converse visible.

  “I hope it’s okay that I’m here.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

  She pulled me into the kitchen. “I brought cookies,” she said, pulling off the lid of a plastic tin that looked older than she was.

  She held out a round sugar cookie, the white frosting in the shape of a snowflake.

  I took a bite. “Wow,” I said, still chewing. The cookie melted in my mouth, and the frosting was decadent. “You really made these?”

  She nodded. “My grandma’s recipe.”

  Maricela opened the fridge and pointed to a covered plate before zipping up her coat and gathering her things to leave for the night. José’s taillights glowed through the frosted glass, too, making Paige’s unannounced visit an even bigger relief.

  “How’s it going? You’ve sort of disappeared,” Paige said, choosing another cookie.

  “It’s been a rough month.”

  “Tyler said your parents cut you off. Is that true?”

  “Tyler Maddox? You’ve seen him?” A strange pang of jealousy burned in my stomach.

  She shrugged. “At Turk’s. He said you gave him the shaft.”

  “I didn’t give him the shaft. He had to have been hanging on to get turned loose.”

  Paige giggled, her childlike smile prompting me to reach for her hand. She intertwined her long fingers with mine. “I’ve missed seeing you around.”

  “I’m still around.”

  “Is it true? About your parents? Is that why you’re so different?”

  “Good different, I hope,” I said, corralling the crumbs from our cookies into a pile. Paige didn’t answer. “Yes, it’s true.”

  “Well, I’ve come to save you.” She bent down, and when she stood up, she pulled a bottle out of a brown paper sack. She rummaged through the cabinets until she found two tumblers, and sat them on the counter. My mouth began to water at the sound of the cap twisting off, and the initial splash of the amber liquid against the bottom of the glass. Paige filled both tumblers to the top.

  “Whoa,” I said. “I haven’t drank a drop in over a month.”

  She handed me a glass and held hers halfway between us. “To being sober.”

  “I…” My throat burned, aching for the contents in the glass. It was right there. Just one drink. I’d just have one.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “You look like hell,” Tyler said, holding out my chair.

  I sat down, leaving on my sunglasses. “Thanks.”

  “Late night? I thought you weren’t drinking anymore.”

  “I wasn’t,” I said, recoiling at the sound of his voice, the sunlight pouring in through the windows, and the squeaking little shit pre-K’er bouncing in the corner like he was on crack.

  “What happened?” Tyler asked.

  “A friend showed up last night with a bottle of Crown.”

  He scowled at me. “After what? Five weeks on the wagon? Doesn’t sound like a very good friend.”

  “I’m not riding a wagon. Those are for alcoholics.”

  Tyler flagged down Chelsea, pointing his finger in the air. “Hi. Can we get some waters, please?” She nodded, and he returned his attention to me. “Can you eat?”

  “Maybe.”

  He shook his head. “Did you at least have good time?”

  “Yeah. We talked until around midnight and crashed. She made cookies, and we talked about my parents, and Finley, and…” I trailed off, remembering the tears and blubbering about Sterling before passing out. I’d told Paige. She knew what Sterling and I had done. I covered my eyes with my hands. “Oh, no. Oh, God. Fuck.”

  “So … not a good time?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it. Oatmeal. No fruit. Cinnamon.” I was determined to eat, not knowing when I would have a non-instant-noodle meal next. “Please.”

  “You got it,” Tyler said, ordering for me when Chelsea returned with our waters. He didn’t talk much, and I didn’t complain. There was already too much movement and light and sound and breathing going on. Clanking of dishes, talking, some damn kids laughing, car doors slamming shut—everyone needed to die.

  “You look like you hate everything,” Tyler said.

  “Pretty much.” I pulled my hoodie over my head, supporting my face with my hands.

  “Is this one of those things we’ll laugh about later?”

  I sunk down in my seat. The sunglasses weren’t helping. It felt like the sun was piercing my brain. “Probably not. I’m so sorry.”

  Chelsea slid my bowl of oatmeal in front of me, the cinnamon wafting to my nose. It actually smelled appetizing until Ty
ler’s stack of pancakes with blueberries, chocolate, whipped cream, and maple syrup hit my nose.

  “Christ,” I said, recoiling. “Has anyone ever told you that you eat like a toddler?”

  “Many, many times,” he said, digging at the stack with his fork and shoveling in a bite.

  “How do you look like that,” I said, pointing at him, “if you eat like that?” I pointed to his plate.

  “We have a lot of downtime at the station, as opposed to the dormitory during fire season. I don’t like sitting still, so I work out a lot.”

  He had to. He was a mammoth.

  I picked up a spoon and dug into the bowl, scooping up a small bite first, just to test the waters. So far, so good. Plain toast, cinnamon, bland oatmeal. I could still party like a rock star but apparently couldn’t recover like one.

  I finished off my water with the pair of ibuprofen I’d brought from home, and then looked at my watch.

  “In a hurry?” Tyler asked.

  “I just want to make sure that I get to the office on time if your superintendent doesn’t let you talk him into this absurd plan.”

  Tyler had already nearly put away half of the pancakes. I wasn’t sure when. “Photographers follow us out all the time. Not sure how you’re going to keep up in your condition, if we get called out, though. The hikes are pretty brutal.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Uphill.”

  “Why are you torturing me?”

  “…in the snow.”

  “You worry about your job, I’ll worry about mine.”

  Tyler laughed once. “How did a billionaire’s daughter wind up taking action shots for a magazine? That’s kind of random, isn’t it?”

  “I’ve told you about my parents, and I know you remember. You told Paige over drinks or whatever.”

  “Does that bother you?” Tyler asked, amused.

  “That you’re talking about my business? Or that you were with Paige?”

  “Either.”

  “That was personal. That’s not exactly bar talk.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just figured she was your friend … and I was a little worried about you. I figured she’d know more than I did.”

  “Paige is a sweet girl. She’s not my friend.”

  “Friends with benefits?”

  I glared at him, and he held up his hands, chuckling.