Reckless

by Kimberly Kincaid

  Alex broke off, his stomach doing somersaults. But he’d come this far, and telling Zoe the rest even though he hadn’t admitted it to anyone in ages just felt right, like somehow, weirdly, she was meant to know. “Finally, after the paramedics on scene checked me out and gave me a little oxygen for my trouble, we went back to the station and your father pulled me into his office. I thought he’d yell, or write me up, or even boot me. But instead he just looked at me and said, ‘Do you know why I took you on, Donovan?’”

  Zoe’s expression outlined her surprise, but she didn’t interrupt, so Alex kept going. “Of course, I told him I didn’t. But then he said something I won’t ever forget, even if I live to be a hundred.”

  Alex took a breath, the deep swirl of long-hidden emotions pulling him back, until he heard Westin’s voice, soft yet dead serious in his ears.

  “‘I took you on because I think you could be a damn good firefighter, but damn good firefighters are never a party of one. There’s a big difference between recklessness and bravery, and you can’t afford to learn it the hard way. You’re either going to be a firefighter and save lives, or you’re going to get yourself killed, and the second one doesn’t happen on my watch. So you’d better decide right now, son. Are you going to be part of this house, or aren’t you? ’”

  “Alex.” Zoe’s voice brought him back to the present, and only then did he realize he’d actually spoken the words from his memory out loud.

  “The risk of putting my life on the line never scared me, Zoe. Living out loud is the only way I know how to be. But the part of becoming a firefighter that scared the shit out of me was trusting that if I belonged to a family, that family would always be there, and they’d always have my back. Your father was the only person willing to prove that to me. And I owe him everything for it.”

  “Being with me doesn’t betray that,” Zoe said, closing the space between them to fold her arms around his shoulders, and Christ. How could something so off-limits feel so purely right? “Look, I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, or next week, or next year, and there are parts of this that scare me, too. But I’m not going to lie to you. Right now, in this moment, I want to be with you.”

  Alex wrapped his hands around her denim-clad hips, want rebuilding all the way through him to cancel out his hesitation. “I want to be with you, too. As far as I’m concerned, you’re either moving forward or you’re moving back. And back isn’t an option for me. Not now. Not ever. But I can’t lose what I have at Eight, Zoe. I belong there. It’s the only family I’ve got.”

  She pressed up to kiss him, and Christ, despite all the old memories churning through him, Alex didn’t think twice about kissing her back.

  “Okay,” Zoe said. “So let’s just move forward, one minute at a time.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Zoe looked down at the color-coded and tightly ordered page in the day planner spread over her desk, and damn, she’d never been so happy to see a workweek hit the past tense. In the plus column, Damien had been booked up to his eye teeth on assault charges, Rochelle and Kenny had boarded a bus to Michigan, and—miraculously—Zoe’s father hadn’t caught wind of the commotion that had rattled through Hope House like a five o’clock freight train. On the negative side, things in the soup kitchen had slid right back to business as usual, with too few ingredients for meal prep, too many tasks for the man power at hand, and monthly budgets that were tighter than a snare drum on game day.

  And somewhere smack in the middle was her personal life, which had gone from zero to oh-my-God in the span of the same week, and as much as it scared the hell out of her, Zoe couldn’t deny one simple fact.

  Between their last five days in the kitchen and their corresponding nights in the bedroom, reckless, impulsive, all-in Alex Donovan totally bent her spoon.

  Zoe pushed up from her over-the-hill chair, bypassing the stack of notes on her desk for the greener pastures of the kitchen. Yes, she and Alex had found a comfortable groove of balancing work and play this week, and more yes, the seamlessness of both felt down-to-her-marrow delicious. But no matter how enticingly good their last week together had been, Alex wouldn’t stay in her kitchen forever. In a measly two weeks, he’d return to a job chock full of frightening risks—a job where he belonged—and that job still scared the hell out of her. Keeping things casual and temporary was the only way to avoid complications for both of them. Plus, she had way bigger things on her plate right now than blowing her supremely hot sex life out of proportion with Serious Thoughts.

  Like keeping the soup kitchen she loved afloat despite stormy waters.

  After a quick round trip to the walk-in, Zoe unloaded an armful of carrots and celery to the stainless steel worktable in the center of the kitchen, letting the familiar motions do their best to calm her. Her knife roll joined the vegetables, along with a cutting board and oversized bowls, until finally, she released a slow exhale. As challenging as it was going to be to get Hope House right side up and running smoothly once and for all, Zoe was going to dig in and get the job done.

  Or die trying.

  “Hey,” came a sexy rumble from over her shoulder, and Lord, the tool belt slung over Alex’s faded blue jeans was enough to make her want to break something on principle alone. “Tina was looking for you about an hour ago. Did you find her?”

  “Yeah,” Zoe said, reluctantly shelving her Mr. Fix-It fantasy. At least for now. “She wanted to go over some ideas for tightening up security. We hooked up just after breakfast.”

  While Tina had finally stopped clucking over Zoe like a mother hen on overdrive, she’d been adamant that Hope House needed better security measures in case of another code-red emergency.

  Zoe agreed wholeheartedly. Even if after three extended sessions of brainstorming ways to make the leap from should-happen to would-happen, their budget didn’t.

  “Added security might not be the worst plan ever.” Alex leaned in the door frame between the kitchen and the empty dining room, running a nonchalant hand over his chin, but Zoe called his bluff before he could cap the whole thing off with that perfectly easygoing shrug of his.

  “You don’t have to sweet talk your way into convincing me, Alex. I know this is a rough neighborhood, and as tough as I am, I also didn’t just fall off the turnip truck. Hope House could clearly use better safety measures to keep everyone protected.”

  Relief washed over his features, and Zoe nearly laughed. “Thank God. I know psychos like Damien are the exception, not the rule, but seriously. The thought of what could’ve gone down the other day still gives me the goddamn shakes.”

  “Yeah, well, unfortunately, making big changes to things like security isn’t as easy as bribing your volunteer to come in on a Saturday to install new weather stripping on the windows. Which, by the way, was very nice of you to agree to.”

  Alex dropped his gaze to the tool belt around his waist, and now his easygoing shrug did make an appearance. “Ah. It was a fair trade. You made me dinner last night, remember? Anyway, I already knew how to do the windows, and the whole project only took me a couple of hours. No sweat.”

  Zoe had her suspicions that his morning hadn’t been the piece of cake he was claiming, especially since he’d managed to do the repairs and help her get the dining room ready for breakfast service, but she trapped the observation between her teeth. “Well. The fact still remains that Tina and I are going to hit a dead end for security upgrades pretty fast unless we win the lottery. Or we stumble across about ten volunteers the size of linebackers.” Or both, but really, she didn’t want to get greedy.

  “That’s a tall order,” Alex admitted, unhooking his tool belt to swap it for one of the aprons hanging on the far side of the kitchen. “I’m guessing security services aren’t cheap.”

  “Definitely not.” Zoe’s breath pulled tight in her lungs. She’d wracked her brains trying to think of ways to ensure tighter security without hiring an outside company, but the truth was, half the time she couldn’t even get H
ope House’s kitchen properly staffed for meal service. Every potential solution she’d come up with to steer the place into smoother, safer waters required either more money or more man power, and in some cases both. All except for one.

  God, this idea was crazy. Check that—it was downright insane.

  And it was also her only hope.

  “I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day.” Zoe reached for one of the bunches of celery she’d laid on the counter, desperate for the food to comfort her like it always did.

  But Alex’s laugh did the job instead. “For the love of all that’s holy, please tell me you’ve decided that curly fries should count as a vegetable. They’re freaking potatoes.”

  “First of all, they’re tubers, and fried ones at that,” she said over a laugh of her own. “No dice on nutritional value. Secondly . . .” She looked up to meet the playful glint in his eyes, the last remaining twinge of tension in her chest taking a hike. “That’s not what I’ve been thinking about.”

  Alex gave his hands a quick scrub before sliding in next to her at the worktable. “All right, Gorgeous. I’ll bite. What’s on your mind?”

  Now or never, now or never, now . . . “The Collingsworth Grant.”

  “Are you serious?” Alex pulled back to look at her, his blond brows climbing high over his forehead, but hell, it was too late to stuff the words back in now. Plus, she really was out of options, and asking for his help just felt right. Even if the idea itself still felt crazy.

  “Yes,” Zoe said. “Don’t get me wrong. My chances of actually winning the grant are still pretty much microscopic, and it’s going to take every last ounce of my time and resources just to go through the application process. Hope House is my kitchen, and ultimately I’m responsible for making smart decisions to feed and take care of the people who live here, but . . .” She trailed off for only a second before delivering the rest with quiet resolve. “I’ve been swimming upstream for three months, trying to play it safe and do everything in this soup kitchen alone. I need to take a risk in order to make a difference, and I was hoping maybe you could help me.”

  “Okay. Sure.”

  “Really?” She clamped down on her bottom lip as her blush took a tour from her temples to her throat, but Alex just reached for the peeler sitting in front of them on the worktable.

  “Yeah, really.” Grabbing a couple of carrots from the tidy pile by the cutting board, he set his sights on the vegetable in his palm even though Zoe felt his attention still firmly on the topic at hand. “What, did you think I was going to say no? I am kind of a captive audience, being your volunteer and all.”

  Zoe paused, but screw it. He’d had her back all week at Hope House, and if she was going to trust him with something as important as her kitchen, half measures weren’t going to cut it. “I thought you might, yeah. The deadline is less than three weeks away, and it’s going to take a lot more than unloading inventory and prepping meal service to make this work. Applying for this grant is going to be a huge undertaking.”

  “Applying for this grant is a great idea,” he corrected. “Anyway, I told you. While I’m here, I’ve got your back. Hard work or not, I meant it.”

  “Does anything rattle you?” The question slipped right past her brain-to-mouth filter, but if Alex minded her sudden burst of candor, his expression didn’t give him away.

  “I’m a little upset about the curly fries thing. I don’t think you’re giving them a fair shake, honestly—oof !” He held up his hands, fielding off her nudge to his rib cage with a laugh. “Okay, okay. Of course I get rattled. I am human, you know.”

  The image of him standing in her bathroom five hours ago wearing nothing but a towel and a good-morning-to-you smile flashed through her brain, and oh yeah. Zoe knew exactly how human he was.

  “Right.” She slid a bunch of celery to the cutting board on the counter, praying like hell that her face didn’t betray the sexed-up slide show she’d just pushed from her mind’s eye. “But you dive into everything without so much as blinking. I get why you’re audacious.” The story of his parents’ horrible accident sent a quick jab at her breastbone, but it didn’t stop her from asking, “But how do you take all those risks without being scared?”

  “Are you kidding? Half the time, I’m scared as hell.” He didn’t break stride with the peeler in his hand, even though his movements were slow and unpracticed. “But I can’t let fear cloud my judgment. You want to know what happens if I don’t take those risks, even the ones that shake me up?”

  “What?” Zoe’s pulse sped up at the look of sheer honesty on Alex’s face, and it double-timed when he put down the peeler in favor of stepping in close to hook a finger under her chin.

  “Nothing. And while sometimes that nothing isn’t a huge deal, other times, letting nothing happen is more dangerous than taking the risk.”

  She closed her eyes, letting go of the breath holding tight to her lungs. “Hope House needs help, and I know my best chance of making a difference right now is to take a leap of faith. But throwing all my time and energy into trying to get the Collingsworth Grant is a huge risk, especially now that this place needs man power and resources for stability more than ever. I’m just afraid to put so much on the line.”

  “Do you know why I dared you to go rock climbing with me?”

  Zoe blinked, and talk about a question with origins in left freaking field. “What?”

  “I know it’s a weird question. Just go with me here.”

  “Okay,” she said, her answer automatic. “Why did you dare me to go rock climbing with you?”

  “For the same reason I brought up the Collingsworth Grant in the first place. I don’t want you to be reckless on principle, Zoe. Hell, I treat adrenaline like it’s the biggest food group in the pyramid, but even I’m not impulsive for shits and grins alone. There’s a difference between recklessness and bravery. I’m just asking you to take a risk and show it to me.”

  Possibility prickled through her, enticing and sweet. Still . . . “The people who live here depend on me to feed them, and to help keep them safe. What if I risk it and fail?”

  Alex met her eyes for a split second, his gaze piercing all the way through her before he dropped a soft kiss over her mouth. “Isn’t the more important question, what if you don’t?”

  Her stunned silence filled the sliver of space between them, but Alex refused to pull up or scale back. “Look, I understand that the risk scares you, and that you’ve got your reasons for being cautious. But after spending the last two weeks in this kitchen, I also know that Hope House is a whole lot more than your job. You want this grant? Be bold and go get it. For the next few weeks, I’ve got you.”

  Zoe pressed her kitchen clogs into the tile to stand up as tall as her frame would allow. Alex was right. The prospect of channeling the efforts she knew Hope House needed into a long shot that damn well might fail did scare the hell out of her.

  But not doing all that she possibly could—even if it included a giant risk and some even bigger trust—scared her even more.

  “Well. With backup like that, how can I refuse?”

  Alex grinned, giving his blond brows a cocky waggle and brushing her lips with one last quick kiss before turning back toward the vegetables on the cutting board. “Speaking of backup, we’re going to need all the help we can get while you work on this proposal. As awesome as I am, I’m only one man.”

  “So modest.” Zoe laughed, her muscles flexing and releasing in a familiar cadence as she started chopping the celery in front of her. “But, as it turns out, you’re also not wrong. I can barely get through meal service with the staff I’ve got in place right now, and that’s with me working a minimum of fifty hours a week in the kitchen. If I’m going to give this grant proposal enough attention for Hope House to be a contender, we absolutely need more hands in here. I can talk to Tina, see if we can’t shake a few more trees with the city.” Not that they didn’t already do that on a fairly regular basis, but a
t least it might garner something more than the next-to-nothing she currently had.

  “You know,” Alex said slowly, his expression as unreadable as his voice. “There is a way you can get a lot of people in here to help on the fly, and I guarantee it’s something you’ve never done before.”

  Zoe’s fingers went tight over the knife handle in her grasp. “What’s the catch?”

  “The catch is, in order for the plan to work, you’re going to have to take this risk outside of the kitchen.”

  Zoe sat in the corner booth at Scarlett’s Diner, her eyes on the cup of coffee in front of her even though her mind was a million miles away and her heart was stuck somewhere in the vicinity of her windpipe. Caught in the sweet spot between Saturday’s long-gone lunch crowd and the not-yet-started dinner rush, she had the cozy diner all to herself.

  Until her father walked through the door two minutes later.

  “Hi, Dad. Thanks for coming out to meet me on such short notice.” Zoe stood to give him a hug, the cinnamon and cedarwood scent of Old Spice filling her with a nostalgic pang.

  “You said it was important,” he said, pulling back to scan her carefully from head to toe before sliding into the booth across from her. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

  Leave it to her father to go gruff on the pleasantries when there was an issue at hand. Not that she wasn’t the same way, she supposed. “Yes. No. Sort of.”

  Zoe’s gut spiraled downward, and she grabbed the carafe of coffee the waitress had left on the table, pouring her father a full cup before topping off her own. His already serious expression sharpened around the corners of his eyes and mouth, but damn it, this needed to be said, and not just for Hope House. “Something happened this week at the shelter. I didn’t tell you when we had breakfast yesterday because I didn’t want you to worry. But we’ve been fighting about my job and yours ever since I came back to Fairview. You deserve to know the truth, starting with this.”