Reckless at Heart (The Kincaids of Pine Harbour Book 1)

by Zoe York

  “Ah, man. You do, every day.”

  Then why did he feel like if Adam got hurt, it would be his fault? “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

  “What are you afraid of?”

  Owen glance down at Charlie. He’d spent far too long being afraid of what this sleeping, perfect child would mean for Becca’s life. “I’m afraid of risk,” he finally admitted.

  “Me, too.” Adam huffed a hard laugh. “I hated the army. You know that?”

  No. Owen hadn’t known that. “Tell me about that.”

  “I hated how it messed up Stevie. How it turned out to be bullshit on the inside, just like everything else. Sometimes I worry that firefighting will be the same. That’s why I’m hanging out here a lot. To try and see it from their eyes, to make sure this is a good idea. Because you warn me that it’s not, and I listen to you.”

  Owen stopped the gentle push-pull on the stroller and dragged his brother in for a hug. “You’re a good kid.”

  “Not a kid.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Adam squeezed him tight. “I do.”

  Owen wiped his eye. “All right. We should talk about something else.”

  “We could talk about you and Kerry at the club last week. You looked cozy when I left you at the bar. And then you seemed…happy for the rest of the night.”

  Dazed had been more like it. Happy? His feelings about what had almost happened were a lot more nuanced than happy. “Pick another topic.”

  “Why?”

  Because she was Becca’s midwife for another two weeks and three days. “Because it’s private, and complicated.”

  “Like my desire to become a firefighter?”

  That was a direct shot. Owen winced. “Yeah, I guess that’s fair.”

  “Does Becca know that the two of you…”

  “Are friends? Yes.”

  “You’re more than friends.”

  Owen stopped and gave his brother a pointed look. “We’ve never kissed. Do I like her? Hell, yes. I’m not going to deny that. But we’re just friends.”

  For now. For another two weeks and three days, and then however long it would take him to ask her out, and given his track record of stringing words together in a nice and persuasive way around her, it could be a lot longer than that. No. It wouldn’t take longer than that. He was done chewing on words he should say out loud.

  So he cleared his throat. “We’re just friends for now, anyway.”

  Adam pumped his fist in the air.

  The back of Owen’s neck was going to burst into flames, but it was good to see his brother didn’t judge him for his not-so-secret crush.

  Kerry was late for the September interagency working group meeting because her clinic ran late that day. But she wanted to fit in her last client appointment, even if it created a schedule conflict. She didn’t want to shortchange her client, but she didn’t want to rebook, either.

  She slipped in the door as someone launched into what sounded like the third agenda point. There was only one empty chair left, two past Owen on the same side. She slipped him a note on her way to sit down, then tried to catch up on the discussion.

  She failed miserably, but nobody called on her for input, and she only had a teensy-tiny remnant of guilt when Owen stood up and gave her an intense, tight-jawed, hard-eyed look. “Kerry, do you have a minute?”

  “Sure.” She gathered up her notepad, waved goodbye to the other committee members, and followed him out of the meeting room. She expected him to head through the library to the stairs that would lead down to the lower level where his office was located, but instead he cut to the left. Ahead was a door marked Authorized Personnel Only, although she figured that included the EMT supervisor. On the other side was a quiet office corridor, and an elevator.

  Owen tapped the button to call it. He used his thumb, and she realized his hand was tightly fisted around her note.

  Her pulse jumped as the elevator arrived and they quietly stepped on together.

  Owen leaned over and jammed the door closed button. Then he pulled a key from his pocket and inserted it into a slot on the panel.

  “So did you—“

  Before Kerry could finish the question, Owen had her in his arms, pressed against the wall.

  Her heart pounded in her throat as he grazed her skin with his thumb. Her jaw, her throat, and then the back of her neck as he hovered his mouth just above her lips. “Becca’s last appointment was today?”

  “She called earlier to change it and I told her I had time at the end of the day,” Kerry whispered. “Sorry I was late.”

  The corner of his mouth jerked into a half-smirk. “I was wondering if I would see you.”

  “Maybe I should have texted.”

  “Do you have my number?”

  She licked her lips. “Sort of.”

  The other corner twitched now. “From her chart.”

  “Yes.”

  He groaned and moved closer. Another fraction of an inch, and they’d be kissing. Why weren’t they kissing yet?

  “I can’t stop thinking about you.” The raw confession tore loose from his body, his voice grating like he tried to hold it in, because it was an admission that violated everything they had previously agreed to.

  “It’s been a long month,” she agreed. She could play this cool, even though her heart hammered against her rib cage as if Owen was offering to go down on her right here, right now.

  He smiled, a little wild, just on the edge of control. “I have a question for you.”

  The answer was yes. Yes, here in the elevator. Yes, whatever he wanted. Her head swam and her knees threatened to buckle.

  The elevator made a sound, a small beep, and then another one. Louder, more persistent this time. Kerry’s hammering heart desperately wanted Owen to ignore it, but that wasn’t his style. And in a building full of first responders, maybe it wasn’t wise to have alarms going off, she could see that ending badly—and publicly.

  He stepped back, leaving her pressed against the wall and shaking. He glanced over at the panel, swore under his breath, and pulled the key out. Then he tapped the first floor button.

  What? Every cell in her body shrieked in protest. He needed to do the key trick again. They needed more time. She straightened up. “You were asking a question?”

  He dragged his hooded gaze down her body.

  Yeah. The answer was definitely yes.

  “Have dinner with me tomorrow night.” The doors opened and he stepped halfway out of the elevator, leaning his hand against the door to pin it open while she stared at him.

  Dinner.

  She had been prepared for a hot night of no-holds-barred sex. Not dinner. Not after that scorching pin against the wall, and the grind against the bar at the club, and even the way he’d touched her for the first time at his house. Their connection was dangerously combustible chemistry. She didn’t need to be wined and dined to invite Owen into her bed.

  “That’s not a question,” she said, buying herself some time.

  Weren’t they about to kiss?

  When could she tear his clothes off?

  Those were questions. Have dinner with me was a command.

  He smiled, all the way to his eyes. “Would you please have dinner with me? Let me take you out, Kerry. Let’s do this right.”

  Her heart liked that a lot. Too much, but whatever, the answer had always been yes. Since the first moment she laid eyes on him, big and grumpy and not looking at anyone as he stalked across the Green Hedgehog. “Yes,” she said in a rush. “Will you pick me up? Do you know where—”

  His eyes glittered as he nodded. “I know where you live.”

  “Okay then.” She hitched her bag over her shoulder and moved to leave the elevator.

  Owen stopped her, his hand grazing down her arm before catching her wrist. He glanced back over his shoulder, then moved them both back into the elevator again. “Fuck it,” he said, closing the door. “I can’t wait another minute.”<
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  Her breathless gasp was lost this time as he covered her lips with his. Her bag hit the floor, he tangled his fingers into her hair, and finally—finally—she learned what the press of his mouth against hers felt like. Warm magic. Like flames appearing from nowhere to gobble up dry kindling, and then perfectly settling into hot, glowing embers. Tender, questing magic, his lips caressing hers as his fingers flexed in her hair. Restraint shook through his entire body.

  She softened into his embrace, and by the time he eased back, she was melting in all the right places. She smiled up at him. “I wasn’t sure you were going to kiss me.”

  He flushed. “I wanted to kiss you as soon as the doors closed, but I want to do this right.”

  She touched her fingers to her lips. “You did. You are.”

  He rubbed his thumb against her jaw, and she reached for him.

  “My turn to kiss you,” she whispered. She brushed her lips against his, parting just a bit. A tease and a promise of more to come.

  When they broke apart, he pushed the door open button. “I need to…”

  “Yeah. Me, too.”

  He took a deep breath. “Hey. So, maybe I could give you my number the proper way now?”

  She let out a shaky laugh and pulled out her phone. “Please.”

  By the time she got home, there was a text from him confirming their date.

  Owen: I’ll pick you up tomorrow at six, if that works for you?

  Kerry: It does. I’m looking forward to it.

  Owen: Me, too.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Owen changed his shirt three times. He fixed his hair twice, and on his second stomp back to his bedroom from the bathroom, Becca wandered into the hallway with Charlie asleep in a wrap on her chest and gave him a curious look. “What’s going on?”

  He hadn’t been subtle about the nervous energy. He gestured for her to follow him, and pointed to the two shirts on his bed, both button-down, one blue, the other dark grey. Then he waved helplessly at the black Henley he was currently wearing. “What’s better for a date?”

  “You have a date?”

  “Yeah.”

  She glanced at the clock on his bedside table. “Is it a date for tonight?”

  “I’m picking her up in fifteen minutes.”

  “Oooh, a secret date.”

  “I was going to tell you.”

  “Really? When?”

  “At some point between now and thirteen minutes from now when I leave the house.”

  “So she’s local.” Becca’s eyebrows wiggled. “Interesting. Do I know her?”

  Warmth crawled up his neck. “Yes.”

  “Is it someone from the army?”

  “I’ll tell you if you stop asking questions.”

  “But this is fun. Is it—”

  “It’s Kerry.”

  Becca blinked at him. She stood there, her mouth hanging open, and she just stared. Then she rocked back on her heels. “My Kerry?”

  That tripped him up. He frowned and thought twice about pointing out that technically, Kerry wasn’t her midwife anymore.

  Becca matched his frown. “When did you ask her out?”

  “Yesterday.” He held up his hands. “Bec, if you have a problem with this—”

  She shook her head violently. “No, that’s not… You like Kerry?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I didn’t see that coming. Has this been happening right in front of me?”

  He gave her a rueful smile and gestured at Charlie. “You’ve been busy. And it wasn’t a thing that was actively happening. We’ve been very appropriate.”

  “Oh my God.” She made a face. “That means you thought about being inappropriate and had to keep it together. Dad.”

  “I—” Owen swallowed hard. He’d gone eighteen years avoiding this exact conversation.

  She waved her hands. “Let’s move past that. You want shirt advice?”

  “Are we okay?”

  “Sure. Please don’t break her heart.”

  “I—“ Owen was having conversational whiplash. “Why do you think I would break her heart?”

  Becca paused. “I don’t know.”

  “I don’t know how to take that.”

  “Well, I don’t know why I said it, but I think it tracks.” She pointed to the blue shirt on the bed. “Wear that one. And maybe pick up flowers on the way.”

  “From the non-existent Pine Harbour Flower Shop?”

  “From the front yard, Dad. Jeez. She’ll love that they’re handpicked. That’s a very Kerry thing to like.”

  She wasn’t wrong. Owen promised he would pick flowers, then changed his shirt.

  He arrived at her front door carrying tiger lilies wrapped in newspaper.

  Kerry’s first thought was, careful, you’re going to fall for this guy. Her second thought was that she’d be so lucky. It wasn’t meant to be, of course. They were at two very different places in their lives. But for a little while, if tonight went well, maybe Owen could be hers. She found herself holding her breath and hoping the date would meet the ridiculously high expectation she’d accidentally built in her mind.

  Crushing on a guy for months was dangerous like that.

  She’d tried to temper those expectations, texting him to suggest he could just come over with a bottle of wine, but he wanted to go out for dinner first. Call me old fashioned, he’d said. Now there were flowers.

  He’d shaved, gotten a hair cut, and he was wearing a button-down shirt that stretched very nicely across his chest and hugged his arms.

  “Well, hello,” she said, taking in all of him again. “You look good.”

  “So do you.” His eyes darkened as he looked her up and down, and the corner of his mouth twisted into a tempting, sexy smile.

  She’d dressed for exactly that reaction. Tight black pants, a loose, off-the-shoulder blouse that ended an inch above her waistband. Dressy but fun, with lots of skin showing. She stepped back, every cell in her body tingling. “Come on in, we can put those flowers in water.”

  Which was absolutely code for letting him brush against her as he came into her apartment, and when she caught the faintest whiff of the scent of his soap on his skin, any thought of finding a vase was abandoned. She pinned him against the inside of the door, grabbed the flowers with one hand to keep them from tumbling to the floor, and swallowed the oof sound he made as she pressed into the very solid front of him. When she pulled back, she was pleased to see that the kiss she’d laid on him had given him twin bright spots high on his cheekbones.

  “You look really good,” she murmured.

  As soon as she turned to deal with the flowers, he caught her around the waist and pulled her back against him, dropping his head to kiss the side of her neck in a slow, agonizing tease.

  “I give as good as I get,” he growled in her ear, and the electric tingles sparked dangerously hot beneath her skin.

  Tilting her head back, she bared more of her flesh for him as he tasted her, then traced the curve of her throat as he turned her again in his arms so he could capture her mouth.

  The flowers may have been a forking ruse.

  “Do you really have a dinner reservation?” She mumbled as his hands slipped under the hem of her shirt.

  He shook against her in silent laughter. “Yeah.”

  But his fingers didn’t slow down, and then his palm was flat against the skin on her side and she really wanted to drag him to her bed.

  “Owen?”

  The flex of his fingers digging deep into her flesh said a lot. The deep, ragged breath he sucked in before stepping back filled in the rest of the story, but the way he dipped his head and looked her right in the eye was the surprise. “I want you so much. More than I thought.” A muscle in his cheek flexed. “But I want your company first. So…dinner.”

  “Dinner,” she whispered.

  She didn’t move. He was so close, and smelled so good, and had felt amazing up against her.

  He leaned in again, but in
stead of kissing her, he brushed his fingers over her hand and took the flowers from her.

  Her heart thudded against her rib cage.

  He glanced around her open concept space. “This place is very cool.”

  “I like it.” She gave him the ten second tour with her index finger.

  “The clock doesn’t work, eh?”

  “Apparently not. I like it anyway. It makes up for the fact there’s no bathtub in the washroom.”

  “What!” Owen feigned mock horror on her behalf made her laugh.

  She pivoted away from him and grabbed a large mason jar for the flowers.

  He helped her put them in, then took her hand and rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. “Ready to go?”

  “I’m all yours.”

  They took his truck, which was delightfully clean, and fell into a conversation about music as soon as the radio came on—and Owen promptly turned it down, but not before Kerry heard the latest country hit playing. She teased him about bro country, and he teased her back about Rick Martin and liking retro dance music.

  “I saw you dancing that night,” she said. After their second almost-kiss. “You like that music just fine.”

  “You watched me?”

  “A bit. I was busy dancing myself.”

  “I know. I saw you, too. Somehow you were always on the other side of the dance floor from me.”

  “It was safer that way.” She shot him a coy look across the cab of the truck. “I mean, look at last night and tonight when you picked me up.”

  He grinned. “That was quite the nice kiss you laid on me at the door.”

  “It would have been terrible if I’d done that in the middle of the dance floor.”

  “Awful.” He winked and reached across the cab, giving her his hand to hold. She liked the warmth of his palm and the strength of his fingers here just as much as she did when he held her. “I told Becca about the date.”

  “I was wondering if you would.”

  “I almost didn’t. It’s our business, and we’re just seeing where things are going, right?”

  She nodded. “But then…”