Jamie shrugged wistfully, then lobbed another tennis ball across the yard. “I know. Your brother’s friend, not to mention a firefighter.”
She held her hands out wide. “I know. That’s sort of the problem.”
Jamie wagged a finger and adopted a serious tone. “No men who face mortal danger on a daily basis.”
“Well, it’s kind of understandable, don’t you think?”
“Sure. But hell, it’s Hidden Oaks. There aren’t that many fires here. I guess that’s why I don’t worry too much about Smith.”
But Megan knew better. The reason Jamie wasn’t plagued with the same fears was how she was raised. Jamie grew up with a mom and a dad who were madly in love and still were to this day. Her parents ran a local vineyard together. She saw them regularly, had dinner with the pair of them. Megan didn’t expect her to understand why she feared traveling the romance route with a firefighter because Jamie hadn’t grown up seeing what that life might lead to. All that sadness. All those broken nights, punctuated by tears and heavy sighs. A canyon’s worth of missing someone who would never come back.
“You honestly never worry about something happening to Smith?” she asked, pressing the issue as she took her turn scooping up the ball for the dog, then tossing it for him. He was a puppy; his energy was boundless.
“Sure. I didn’t mean to make light of it. Of course, anything can happen at any time. But that’s true for anyone. No one is immune to the possibility of loss, no matter what the job is. And as for Smith being a firefighter, well, the fact that he does what he does is part of why I love him so much.”
Megan let the weight of those words sink in. Even though she worried immensely about her brother, she also admired him deeply. Because he was brave. He didn’t just play the hero. He was a hero. The same was true of Becker; running into a burning house to save strangers was courageous. There were no ifs, ands, or buts about it. Truth be told, it was part of what she was liking so much about Becker. She hadn’t expected to fall for that side of him; she’d thought she could rope it off and keep his job at a distance, but deep down, her heart was melting for all of him.
Damn heart. Damn annoying, frustrating heart. It was supposed to have barriers, to protect her from this kind of feeling. But instead of fighting it off from the outside, she was falling from the inside.
She shooed away those thoughts to focus on Jamie. “I remember that time you called me when you were still unsure of things with Smith. I’m so happy that you guys are together and in love.” She wrapped an arm around Jamie and pulled her in for a quick hug.
“Me, too.” They pulled apart when Chance nosed Jamie’s leg. She stroked his snout and cooed at him, then continued the ball-throwing. “Can I tell you something funny?”
“Sure. I could use a laugh.”
“This is going to sound crazy, but I once pictured you with Becker. I had a hunch that you two might be good for each other.”
“I remember you telling me he was super hot, and you sure as hell weren’t lying about that.”
“There’s more to it, though. One night when I was at the bar, all mixed up about Smith and how I felt about him, I was missing you and wishing I could talk to you, and it hit me. You’re so good at that. At just talking to people, and being straightforward and getting to the heart of things. And it made me think you might be good together. I think he’s afraid of commitment, too.”
“I’m not afraid of commitment. I was with Jason for almost two years. I was so committed I was beyond committed,” Megan said defensively.
“That’s not what I mean. What I mean is he’s lost people too, Megan. He doesn’t talk about it, but it’s kind of this unspoken thing. He moved here because there was some terrible fire in Chicago where he used to work, and he lost a bunch of his men.”
Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. “Oh, no.”
Jamie nodded. “I think it’s pretty hard for him to even think about being involved with someone for that reason. I mean, it’s not like he tells me this. I’m just using my woman’s intuition. But he’s a loner. He’s very focused on his business, and his job, and I’ve always thought it’s because he knows what getting close could lead to.”
To loss. To the worst kind of heartbreak you could imagine. “How on earth does that make me perfect for him then?”
“Because,” Jamie said, her voice rising in emphasis. “Because you’ve made it to the other side. He needs someone who can show him that life isn’t always painful. That getting close isn’t always scary. He’s not afraid of commitment because he’s a playboy or a jerk. He’s afraid because he thinks he’s too damaged. Sometimes, a man like that needs a woman like you to show him the other side, because you’re tough and strong and a survivor. Because you tell it like it is. You tell yourself you have all these rules and you don’t date firemen or men who have dangerous jobs, but you chase your dreams. You went to L.A. for Jason. You’re going to Portland to become a tattoo artist. You aren’t afraid.”
“Okay, so you think I’m perfect for him. But tell me why he’s perfect for me then?”
“Because he is incredibly caring, and smart and sensitive. And ultimately, because he is good.”
“It’s that simple?”
“Sometimes it is. Oh, but wait. There’s one part I can’t answer. How was the—” Jamie asked, then waggled her eyebrows.
She sighed, and butterflies threatened to take her chest hostage from the memories. “It was epic. It was out of this world.” Megan’s gaze drifted off; her eyes went glassy as she flashed back to their first night. “It was like he knew me. Like he knew my body. It was like he’d been wanting to do things to me for ages and finally had the chance. Which sounds crazy, considering we just met. But that’s what it felt like. We had this intense physical connection.”
“And now there’s an emotional connection. So what are you going to do about Travis? And what are you going to do about the fact that you’re leaving?”
“I’m going to take it one thing at a time. Travis made it pretty damn clear I needed to stay the hell away, and I love him and respect him and want to do right by him.”
“But you’re not doing right by him by sneaking around. If you’re not going to follow his advice, you should at least be honest and let him know that you respect him, but you’re choosing your own way.”
As she walked to her mom’s store, she knew that Jamie was right. Her brother had raised her better than this. If she was going to keep falling into Becker’s arms while she was here, she had to tell her brother.
An Open Book had been a part of her life since high school, when her mom met and married Robert. She’d spent many days and evenings here, helping out on weekends, and now and then during college when she came home during breaks. She wasn’t a bookish kid growing up, though she did love the escape of a good story, preferably an adventure tale involving spies, high-stakes getaways, and epic kisses in sophisticated foreign cities.
Whenever she was here she spent most of her time in the kids’ section, reconnecting with the books that sparked her love of drawing in the first place—the illustrated tales that had hooked her when she was younger.
Megan pulled open the door and headed over to the counter, recognizing Craig immediately from the crutches. He was busy at the register. When he finished with a customer, he turned to her.
“Hey. I’m Megan Jansen,” she said, then gave a quick wave, knowing it would be easier for him than having to shake hands.
He flashed a bright smile. He had a certain California charm about him, with tousled blond hair, light blue eyes, and a trim build.
“Good to meet you. Glad you could help out.”
“It’s my pleasure. I’m ready for my refresher course, and I know you have to leave soon,” Megan said, and walked behind the counter, standing next to Craig. He opened a drawer, keeping himself impressively steady with his crutches. “You’re a pro at those,” she said.
“Ha. Thanks. Was always one of my life’s aspirations to master c
rutches.”
“How much longer?”
“I should get rid of the cast this week, actually. That’s why I needed you to fill in so I can see the ortho surgeon for a check-in. But I’ll have the crutches for another eight weeks. And then probably at least a year of PT.”
Her eyes widened. “That is a long time,” she said, with sympathy in her voice.
He nodded. “My leg was broken in several places, and this kind of break usually takes more time than usual. It was a hell of a fall, turned out.”
“I heard some of the details, but may I ask what happened? Jamie said that you were training for some sort of charity race?”
“Yep. The annual MS fund-raiser. My sister has MS, so I always do the race to raise money for research. On one of my last training races, there was a crazy skier not paying attention and shooting downhill like a bat out of hell. Trouble was, the skier was aiming straight for a young kid on a snowboard. I saw the kid, grabbed the back of his jacket to pull him out of harm’s way, then wound up careening down the slope myself.”
“Wow,” she said, breathing out low and shaking her head.
“Pretty sure I toppled about twenty times.”
“I’m so sorry, Craig. That sucks. How’s the kid doing?”
Craig smiled brightly, his grin lighting up his whole face. “He’s good. Perfect. Not a hair on his head out of place.”
“Well, there’s that.”
“His parents keep sending me gifts every week. It’s kind of cute. The kid even wrote me a card.”
“What about the guy? The skier?”
Craig shook his head, his shaggy blond hair brushing against his forehead. “Gone. Just kept on skiing. Probably took another run, too.”
“Crazy,” she said, shaking her head sympathetically. She felt bad for Craig. Just a regular guy trying to help his sister. And it wasn’t even his fault, but he was the one who stepped in to save the day in a hit-and-run. Funny how life worked out like that.
“What can you do?” Craig said, but he didn’t sound sad. “Things happen and you just gotta deal. Let me show you how to run this bad boy.”
He spent the next fifteen minutes reviewing the high-level details for her—ringing up purchases, cash versus credit, and handling gift cards. Megan paid attention, even though the whole time she was thinking of how even a guy who managed a bookshop could get hurt. How there were no guarantees. That life didn’t offer you any safety nets.
She worked until closing time, then locked the door and took a deep breath. She checked her phone, hoping for a text from Becker as he’d promised, but there was none. She wasn’t going to let that bother her. She had the store to herself for a while and she was going to enjoy her time alone. She wandered through the aisles, past the shelves in thrillers, mysteries, poetry, and nonfiction, too. There were a few empty shelves in one corner of the store near the small coffee bar; her mom had hired Smith to start building out a larger cafe. Megan strolled past it, picturing an expanded array of cookies, cakes, and other goodies. She meandered to her favorite spot—the kids’ section, where she ran her hands across several picture books, and after careful consideration, picked one starring a giraffe.
Positioning the book on a thimble-sized chair as if it were an easel, she lay back in one of the multicolored bean bags. She removed her leather bracelets so they wouldn’t get in the way, placing them next to her on the soft, formless chair. She grabbed her sketchbook from her cavernous purse, along with the colored pencils she’d brought along for the occasion, and spent the next few hours drawing variations on this giraffe.
Her favorite was the one where the giraffe wore a red wig.
She hadn’t had as much time to draw when she was in Los Angeles. Tending to Jason’s problems had taken its toll on her and sapped her of her creativity.
As the clock neared midnight, she packed up, musing to herself on how nice it was to be free of him—physically and mentally. Jason was finally in the past. The strangling year of trying to help him had loosened its hold. How weird that only one month ago, she was in Los Angeles knotted and twisted over him. What to do, how to leave, what to say. Most of all, should she keep trying?
That’s why she’d stayed with him so long, despite his addiction. She’d wrestled with her own responsibility to someone like him. Should she abandon him when he needed someone most? Yet Jason had never truly needed her. He needed his drug, and that was the problem. He had never admitted he had a problem, and maybe if he had she would have stayed longer or tried harder. As it was, she simply felt free now. Being with him had been a long, slow suffocation. Caring for someone who didn’t care one bit about changing was like being frayed thin. He hadn’t wanted what she had to give.
She wasn’t really sure what it would be like to be with someone who did want what she had to give. But she’d felt a flicker of it with Becker. There was the right kind of give-and-take between them. They seemed to almost fit, as if all her lost and missing parts aligned with him, and vice versa.
She checked her phone once more. Still nothing. That was a bummer. She’d been hoping to hear from him. To reconnect and figure out what the hell they were doing next, even if it was only for a few more days.
She adjusted her skirt, shelved the book, grabbed her bags, put her leather bracelets back on, and left the store, locking up. On the walk to her bike, she noticed most of the lights in the Panting Dog were out except one. She wasn’t the type of woman to sit around and wait for a man. Her feet took her straight to the window, where she saw him on the other side, bent over a laptop, pushing a hand through his hair, staring hard at the screen.
She didn’t want to ignore her feelings anymore. She wanted to see him. She wanted to know him more. She wanted them to do the right thing. She tapped on the window and was greeted by a look that said he’d been missing her, that he’d been hoping she’d come by.
He rose and walked to the door. His deep brown eyes were dark and intense, and he looked at her as if he wanted to consume her and take care of her at the same time. He was beautiful in his jeans and a button-down shirt that begged to be undone. She’d only seen him in T-shirts and jeans, or T-shirts and running shorts, but here he was in a sort of California business casual, and the clothes fit him so well that it seemed a sin to take them off. But she was willing to commit that sin. Oh yes, she was willing.
“Hi,” she said as he held open the door. Her voice didn’t sound nervous or small. It sounded certain, like how she felt.
“Hi,” he said, and his tone mirrored hers. “Want a beer?”
Another nod.
He closed the door and locked it. She followed him, joining him behind the counter as he wrapped a hand around the tap. She dropped her purse on the bar.
“Good song,” she said, as she pointed to the speakers playing Kings of Leon.
“Good album. Can I interest you in a Labrador?”
“Yes.”
He poured two glasses, and she took a quick sip of her beer, barely tasting it, because she was elsewhere. She was several minutes ahead, picturing them tangled up in each other, not able to get enough. Life was short. Anything could happen at any time. Sometimes, you had to seize the moment and savor it for as long as it lasted. “You didn’t text, so I figured your phone must be broken,” she said, her lips curving up in a grin.
“My phone isn’t broken,” he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “But I’m glad you’re here.”
“You are?”
He nodded and stepped closer to her. The physical proximity to him was dizzying, but there was more than that between them now. She swore she could see the emotions starting to show themselves, like the shimmer of a mirage visible under the desert sun. “I didn’t write to you because I don’t know what the fuck to do. You’re leaving town soon, and I can’t give you what you deserve, and I can’t stand the thought of sabotaging my friendship with your brother,” he said, and she heard the barrenness in his voice, but the bone-deep fear too. Then his
tone shifted and softened as his gaze hooked on hers. “But you’re here, and that’s all I can seem to think about. Because even when you’re not here, you’re all I can seem to think about anyway.”
“I am?” she asked, and her blood stirred.
“Yes,” he said, never breaking her gaze, never looking away. She read his eyes, and she knew he didn’t just want her; he needed her. In the barest whisper, he added, “With you, it always seems to be yes.”
She licked her lips once, breathed out, put the glass down. She didn’t want to resist, so she clasped her hands tightly around his neck, crushing his lips with hers. She took him by surprise, and he didn’t seem to mind. She had a crazy feeling that he needed her at times to take control, to force him to let go of all the damn restraint he held on to, that he needed someone to blindfold him, tie him up, pin him down, and take him there.
He groaned as she kissed harder, deeper, damn near ready to go for broke.
So she did. She shoved him against the counter, no easy feat considering his size. But she’d caught him off guard, and she liked that. With quick hands, she undid the button on his jeans, then the zipper.
He inhaled sharply as she teased at the waistband of his boxer briefs.
“Let me,” she said in a breathy voice.
“You think I was going to stop you?”
“I don’t know. Just don’t. Don’t stop me.”
“Don’t you get it? I can’t stop with you, Megan. I can’t.”
She reached a hand inside his boxer briefs, thrilling at the feel of him in her hands once more.
Chapter Sixteen
“Fuck,” he said in a strangled voice as she stroked him. He’d never been harder; he’d never wanted a woman this badly. As her soft fingers wrapped around him, all his thoughts drained away, all the tension spun out of his body¸ and this was all there was. He’d pictured this plenty of times and he’d craved it so damn much. Her touch, her hands, her lips. He loved getting her off, but he didn’t stand a chance right now of doing anything else but taking what she planned to give.
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