by Rosanna Leo
They couldn't avoid each other forever. For the time being, however little it might last, he still lived under her brand-new roof. At some point, they would have to have an actual, adult conversation. Not the curt, emotion-packed snippets which had so recently become the norm.
She dried off her hands and smoothed down her rumpled, old T-shirt. The one now covered in lemon yellow and robin's egg blue. Rolling her eyes at her appearance, she plodded upstairs.
He was standing outside his bedroom, looking in, hands on hips. She approached quietly, observing him.
He had changed before coming home and was dressed in his favorite cargo shorts and a dark green Polo shirt. She could see how the fabric of the Polo stretched across the muscles of his broad back, highlighting each ripple of strength. Her eyes dropped, taking in his slim waist. His shirt was untucked, and made him look sexy and rumpled. Her intake of breath grew sharper as she checked out his firm backside. The cargo shorts may have covered up his fine glutes, but she remembered how they looked. Remembered how they felt under her eager hands, as he thrust into her heat.
God, she missed that feeling. Missed his whispered words of affection. Missed holding him and being held by him. Missed Shane, period.
Shane turned, noticing her, and she blushed. “Hi."
"Hey.” He was just as red, and he looked just as defeated. They stared at each other for a moment.
Jules finally broke the ice. “I finished your room. I hope it's okay.” She wandered into the bedroom, passing him at the doorway, achingly aware of his proximity and his gaze. “I hope you don't think it's too feminine a color. I'm trying to find colors which might appeal to both women and men."
He followed her in and stood next to her, gazing at her with awkwardness. And then he grinned down at her. She knew she looked an absolute sight, with her ragged canvas of a T-shirt, dotted with color. From her last inspection, she knew she had paint specks all through her hair. Not to mention a few long, dried-up patches on her bare legs.
And he was still looking at her as if she were a freaking goddess.
He cleared his throat. “I think you made good choices. I saw the yellow, too. It's really nice and bright. And I do like the blue."
She turned to him abruptly, her eyes showing the merest hint of the desperation she felt inside. “When I say I want it to appeal to customers, I don't mean you need to leave. I mean, I realize you won't want to stay, Shane, but please don't feel you need to rush off on my account either.” She threw up her hands, disgusted with her words. “Anyway, it's not as if the B&B will open anytime soon. There's still a lot of work to be done, and it's nice having ... the extra income."
The extra income? She wanted to hit her head. Now she was thanking him for his rent? She sounded like a complete moron.
His face creased with a small, crooked smile. “I think it's probably best I get out of your hair soon, Jules.” Then, as if unable to help himself, he reached out and tousled her hair. “Your very messy hair. You look like you've been through a paintball competition today.” She blushed again, and he smiled even wider.
Of course, he'd once told her he loved how she blushed.
"Gee, thanks,” she giggled humorlessly, running her own hand through her hair. But as she giggled, a searing stitch of pain shot through her. He was going to leave. What did she expect? That he'd hang around waiting for her to sort out her ridiculous excuse for a life? She ignored the cramp in her side. “So... I hear you and Kevin had an interesting chat today."
His eyebrows shot up. “Wow. The rumor mill here works fast."
"Actually, I got it right from the horse's mouth. Kevin called.” She drew closer, and dared to touch his right hand to inspect his bruised knuckles. “I heard you have a pretty powerful right hook. I can only imagine what Kevin looks like. You must have hit him on the hardest part of his hard head to cause this bruise.” She brushed a finger across his knuckles gently, wanting to take any of his discomfort away.
And before she could stop herself, she gently kissed his bruised fingers. It was the most natural reaction. The only thing her heart knew how to do.
But it was the wrong thing. Shaking his head as if assaulted by the not-so-slow burn of anger and desire, Shane deftly extricated his hand from hers, causing her to take a step back.
"Dammit woman,” he muttered, “don't."
She understood. She couldn't touch him like that. The flames were too hot for either of them to ignore.
Sensing his ire, Jules just watched him as he silently moved into the room and tossed his duffle bag down on the bed. From this angle, she got a good look at his scraped up face. It had healed quite well, even in such a short time, and the scrapes didn't look nearly as raw as they did a couple of days ago. Still, every time she looked at his cheek, she felt winded, hating he'd felt pain. He'd sworn up and down it didn't hurt anymore. And now, with the fading cross-hatched scars, he only looked more rugged.
If the women at the auction could only get a load of him now.
Swallowing the seed of jealousy which felt so firmly planted inside her core, she spoke. “Do you want to talk about what happened with Kevin?"
He turned, his eyes shadowed, looking darker brown than they ever had. “Really, Jules?” His voice was dry and hoarse. “You really want to have this conversation? Because I think you'll hear some things you don't want to hear.” He stared at her, defiant. More than mad.
She retreated, both physically and emotionally, and stepped towards the door. “Never mind. I just wanted to help. Have a good night."
She disappeared, faster than a rabbit running for its burrow. With a heavy heart, she tore into the bathroom upstairs, locked the door, and turned on the shower. And then she didn't move for a long time.
When she didn't come back down within the space of an hour, Shane decided he needed Chinese takeout. He asked the officers stationed outside to keep an eye on Jules, and headed out.
He found it extremely hard to get the sweet and sour chicken down his gullet. He just wasn't hungry. With his dinner not even half eaten, he plunked down some money and exited the little restaurant.
Not knowing where else to go, he decided to pay a visit to Tom Blanchard at the hospital. He'd spoken to the man on the phone once or twice since the accident, but had been meaning to visit in person. It was as good a time as any.
Given the altercation with Kevin and the scene with Jules, he likely wouldn't be in Riverbend much longer anyhow. He knew he couldn't leave until they'd found the arsonist, but eventually he'd have to go.
He poked his head into Tom's hospital room, expecting to find him asleep amongst the various bags and tubes. Or to be goosing a nurse. However, the old guy was sitting up, playing solitaire on his lap. “Hey,” said Shane, “you look a damn sight better than the last time I saw you."
Tom's eyes lit up when he saw Shane. “Chief! Come in! Please, relieve me of my boredom."
Shane sauntered in and took a seat, listening as Tom regaled him with a detailed account of his many injuries and his road to recuperation. As Tom spoke, Shane couldn't help noticing how bare the room seemed. It was the typical, sterile hospital room, but something seemed off.
And then it hit him. There were no flowers, no balloons. Only the large bottle of aged whiskey which the firefighters had sent as a group, the gift Shane had organized. It was sitting alone on a counter, next to the card they'd all signed. But that was it. He knew Tom was an old, confirmed bachelor, but he actually wondered if anyone had been there to see him at all.
Once Tom finished talking, he couldn't help commenting. “So, where are all your groupies? The ones who were hooting at you at the auction?"
Tom's face split with an awkward smile. “Oh, you know me, chief. No attachments. That's my motto. I guess the downside is no one really cares when you're down."
"Don't be ridiculous, Tom. People care about you."
"Oh, I have no doubt some of them do. But maybe not in the right way.” He paused, frowning. “Not like my
wife cared."
Shane took him in, shocked. “You never mentioned a wife."
"Well, she hasn't been mine in a long time. We divorced when we were still kids.” He grew contemplative. “I made a mistake letting her go, and it was over such stupid stuff. I don't even remember now. I promised myself after the divorce I wouldn't go there again, but it's funny. It's at times like these when I wish I could see her again. Ask her to forgive me for being such a young dumbass.” He let out a hearty laugh, as if it didn't bother him anymore.
"You could still tell her."
"No. She remarried a long time ago. I wouldn't do that to her now. She's happy. Has a good man looking out for her. I made my bed. And now I'm sleeping in it.” He gestured weakly to the hospital sheets. “Besides, Captain Gaskill, haven't you heard all the good ones get taken?"
Shane stared at a spot somewhere over Tom's shoulder. “Yeah. I had heard something like that."
"You got yourself a woman?"
Shane blinked, not quite sure how to answer the question. “I think I might have lost myself a woman."
"Ah. I wondered about you,” Tom commented slyly. “You seemed so serious when you started working at the station. You never joined in when the other men shared their pathetic tales of female conquest. So, do you love her?"
Shane looked at him and swallowed the sick feeling in his stomach. The feeling telling him in no certain terms that he'd screwed up. “I think I've loved her since the first time I clapped eyes on her."
"And does she know?” Tom asked the question as if he were a teacher prompting a child.
He shook his head.
"Well then, there's only one thing to do. You should tell her how you feel, Shane."
"It's not that simple."
"Isn't it?” Tom peered at him through tired eyes. “Look, I've seen a lot and I've lost even more. Learn from my example. Believe me, there's nothing worse than being caught in a fire, unable to move, and realizing you were wrong. That you could have changed everything with a few simple words but let pride or fear get in the way.” He stared at Shane pointedly. “Go home, and tell her."
Shane watched as a nurse brought in a tray of food. He smiled at Tom. “Only if you eat your Jell-O, old man."
He thought again about Tom's plain words as he headed home later. Tell her. Just tell her.
What a novel idea.
His heart began to leap as he considered the prospect of talking to Jules, really talking to her. What if he'd had it wrong all this time? What if it was okay to take a chance? Sure, she was upset with him, maybe even irreversibly so. But could he really live with himself if he let that woman go?
He was excited, and growing more so by the second. He knew there was a tremendous possibility Jules would turn him down, but he had to say his piece.
He had to tell her how very much he loved her. That he couldn't live without her. And that, deep down, he'd known it since day one.
On the way home, as he was planning his words, he happened to drive by the fire station. As he did, he looked out. Kevin was standing outside. He noticed Shane's pickup and waved him down.
"Shit,” muttered Shane, suddenly impatient to see Jules. “Another fight is the last thing I need right now."
But, feeling badly for punching the other man, Shane parked and walked up to him.
Kevin approached, hands in pockets, face pale. “Captain, I know you're off duty but can we talk?"
Shane checked his watch. It was getting late and he wanted to see Jules. Wanted to go home, tell her he loved her and hold her all night long. If she'd let him. “I've got a few minutes."
But the few minutes stretched into about an hour, as Kevin apologized and took the first step to fixing his messed-up life. And Shane, moved for the first time by his comrade's words, stopped and listened.
Things were not quite going according to plan.
Gary had thought, at first, he could set fire to the Baker farmhouse. After all, they were doing renovations there. No one would suspect arson. He had visions of the old house in flames, and him swooping in to rescue Juliet just in time. She'd be so grateful. Even her firefighter boyfriend wouldn't see it coming.
But it had to be tonight. He couldn't wait any longer. Problem was, Juliet wasn't home and her house was crawling with more cops. Friends of her damn boyfriend. God only knew he'd been patient, biding his time, practicing with those other, smaller fires in the tool sheds. He was especially proud of the one he'd set at Juliet's place. He knew he'd messed with Gaskill's head on that one. And the fire which injured Tom Blanchard had gone particularly well, especially when he learned Gaskill was hurt. He loved the idea that he'd been the one to scar that perfect face of his.
The fire had been his big dress rehearsal. His practice run for what would happen at the farmhouse. But with Juliet not being home...
She was at her sister's place, that he knew. He'd followed her there. Those stupid cops had never even seen him.
No one ever saw him. They all looked right through him, except for Juliet. She was the only one who'd ever been nice enough to care.
He'd waited until the sister and her husband left with their brats. Now he could have Juliet all to himself. Sure, he didn't know the layout of the sister's house, but he was smart. He could still do this.
Jules Baker was the only woman who'd ever been nice to him, and he'd win her over with a daring rescue. And hopefully finish off that annoyingly perfect Gaskill in the process.
Under cover of darkness, tools of his trade in hand, he approached the house.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Sixteen
Jules turned out all the lights at Claire's and Todd's house. Tip-toeing, so as not to wake the children, she crept into each bedroom to make sure the girls were okay in their beds. Abby and Paige were asleep in identical positions, faces planted in their respective mattresses, little bums high in the air. Ellie was on her back, dribbly mouth open, sprawled out like a starfish. When Jules stepped into her room, she twitched in her sleep, making Jules jump and giggle. Her heart swelled with love for her sweet nieces, and she crept out of the bedroom.
She'd left Shane a note letting him know she was staying the night at their place, that she was babysitting, letting Claire and Todd enjoy a rare night at the hotel. She didn't think it would matter to him, but they'd been in the habit of letting the other know where they were, and she didn't want him thinking she'd left because of him.
Which, of course, she had.
It was still rather early, but Jules was exhausted. Fighting her feelings for Shane had drained her physically and mentally and she felt about ready to drop. Not that she believed she'd actually sleep, but she was hoping she'd fall into some sort of oblivion.
She crawled into the spare bed and covered herself with the sheets. Then she spent the next ten minutes staring at the ceiling.
"I love you, Shane Gaskill,” she whispered. “I'll love you ‘til the day I die."
But she couldn't make him love her. Even though she felt their souls entwining when they made love, she couldn't force the same affection into his soul. Even though he provided her with the greatest sense of comfort and happiness she'd ever felt, she couldn't make him love her. And even though she glimpsed heaven in his soulful, brown eyes, she could not force him to feel the same way about her.
He wasn't ready, not for her, and maybe not for anyone else. He still loved Alana, and she was no Alana.
She'd brooded so much about his dead wife that Alana had now taken on grotesque, gargantuan proportions in her mind. She didn't picture her as some regular, lovely woman anymore. Rather, Jules thought of her now as a seven-foot, lingerie-wearing, high-heeled supermodel with big lips and bigger boobs. The image actually made her laugh.
Jules laughed so hard under the covers that she finally giggled herself to sleep. A deep sleep, perforated only by hazy dreams of Shane and his crooked smile, holding her hand and kissing her. The dreams were so good, and her slumber so profound,
that Jules mistook the noises in the house as bizarre parts of her dream. When the front room window shattered, she dreamed she was breaking a window to get to Shane. As the smell from gas-soaked rags permeated the house, she dreamed of seeing Shane at Mr. Mitchell's gas station. And as the first two minutes of the fire alarm's brazen peal interrupted her sleep, she dreamed of Shane trying to wake her up.
"Wake up,” Dream Shane urged. “Get out!"
As she awoke, smoke was already drifting to the upper floors, and the harsh flames were licking unmercifully at the wooden doors and beams.
For a moment, Jules thought her dream had plunged her into hell.
"So,” Kevin said slowly, “what I'm really trying to say, Shane, is I've been an ass. When you punched me, I think it finally knocked some sense into me.” He shook his head, looking completely drained and remorseful. “I can't believe how terrible I was to Jules. She was always so good to me, and I walked all over her. She'll never forgive me."
Shane frowned, relieved Kevin had seen the light, but also uneasy about his transformation. And what that meant with regards to his feelings for Jules. “I'm sure she will forgive you. She's a good woman. The best."
Kevin looked up. “You feel strongly about her."
"With all due respect, that's an understatement. But I'll have that conversation with her before I have it with you."
Kevin chortled at the comment. “I hear ya. Look, I care for Jules, I really do. But even after all this time, I think I'm still learning about the whole love thing. What I mean is, if you two love each other, I won't stand in your way."
"I appreciate..."
His words were cut off by the sound of the fire station alarm. One of the men ducked his head into Shane's office. “Captain, we have a situation at the vet's house on Graham Street."
Shane froze. The only vet he knew was Todd.
His heart plummeted into his shoes. What if Jules was there?
As tremendous fear gripped him, his training took over and he moved methodically and swiftly through the station. He hurried the men along and dove into his firefighting gear. He commandeered the engine himself and careened out of the station, sirens blaring and lights flashing.