by Kelly Moran
Ella: Oh, lol. Sure. Starting tonight?
Jason: If you can, that would be great.
Ella: No prob. She’s not that bad, is she?
He glanced to his right, where the kitten was halfway through shredding a box of tissues. He snapped a picture and sent it to Ella.
Ella: Oops, lol. You need to correct her behavior. Tell her NO in a firm voice and take the tissues away.
Frowning, he eyed Storm. The last time he’d yelled no, she’d run under the bed and hadn’t come out for two hours. Even then, she’d stared at him through those big blue saucers the whole day as if he were a monster.
Whatevs. He’d try again.
“Storm, no! Not a toy.”
She promptly launched four feet in the air, meowed, then darted under the bed.
“Damn it.” He set the phone down and got on all fours, peering under the frame. She cowered and ducked her head from halfway under the queen-size, causing a crippling pain of guilt to claw his chest cavity. “I’m sorry. I’m a big asshole and didn’t mean it.”
Mew.
“I know. The biggest asshole in all the land. You’re right.”
Mew.
“Can you come out now?”
Mew.
“What if I promise not to yell again?”
Mew.
He straightened and reached for the cell. She’s under the bed and won’t come out.
Ella: Ignore her. She needs to know she did something wrong. She’ll come out eventually.
Tapping his finger on the side of the screen, he debated this tactic. It seemed…mean. She was just a tiny helpless thing and he’d scared her.
Ella: I know you feel really bad, but trust me. She needs discipline and boundaries.
For crying out loud. When exactly had he turned into a sissy? So much, Ella—an acquaintance, no less—could tell a pussy was dragging him around by the shorthairs. It was just a cat. Ella was right. He needed to man up and get some sleep.
Regardless, he peered under the bed one more time and offered an apologetic look before rising to his feet. He sent a thank you text to Ella and was about to climb in bed when his phone rang. He would’ve outright ignored anyone at that point, but…
“Hey, Mama.” Yeah. He never ignored her.
“Hi, baby. What are you doin’?”
He smiled at her slight southern drawl leftover from childhood that she hadn’t ever managed to shake. She’d moved from Louisiana to Redwood Ridge with his dad after they’d finished college at Oregon State, yet she’d never be a Yankee. Her term, not his.
“About to crash for a few hours before heading to work. Last night was insane.”
“I saw the tweet. A gas leak, right? Did you at least get to finish the Charity Ball? Twitter said you went for two-thousand in the auction. That’s great.”
And he felt dirty all over again. “Sure, great.” Through the years, she’d avoided the station and charities involved. He assumed it had been too painful a reminder of Dad’s death, but she supported the cause silently with donations. “Could have wound up worse.”
“Well, just be sure to make the date a good one. As a teacher, Ella probably doesn’t come by that kind of money easily. The poor thing looked struck stupid in the video I saw, too. That mayor and her sisters coerced her into bidding, I think.”
Damn. He hadn’t thought of that. “I’ll give her the money back. She and I are apparently the current matchmaking targets. I’ll put a stop to it.”
A slow laugh murmured through the speaker and built to a crescendo in no time flat. “Go ahead and try, baby. You’ll only run in circles.” She let out a breath. “Ella seems like a nice girl.”
“Don’t you start.”
Another laugh. “Just sayin’.”
“Uh-huh.” He rubbed his eyes, keeping mum.
“All right. Get some rest. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” He disconnected, set the phone on the nightstand, and fell face-first, bare-assed onto the bed. “That’s better.”
Next thing he knew, something sharp dug into his butt cheeks and a screech rent the air, forcing his eyes open.
“Holy moly, cannoli, stromboli, ravioli. I’m so sorry!”
He jerked his head up and around. Storm was sitting on his ass, kneading, and Ella was in the doorway, both hands over her face.
Interesting.
“Really, really sorry. I didn’t see your truck outside. I thought you were at the firehouse already.”
“All the spots up front were taken. I’m parked in the back.” He rolled over, dislodging the cat and taking the sheet with him to cover his goods. “Not a big deal. I guess I’m not used to having someone else come and go from my apartment. You’re the first person besides Parker or my Mama to have a key. I’ll be more clothing conscious from here on out.”
“So, so sorry.”
He laughed. “I’m sure you’ve seen a man’s backside before, but keep your eyes covered if you wish. I’ll put some pants on.”
“Oh, sure I’ve seen one. You know, in movies and stuff. But not yours.” Nervous giggle. “Of course, not yours. We just met. Except, now I have seen it. Is that going to be awkward between us? It might be. I hope not. I tend to make things awkward all on my own without adding nakedness to the party. Not that this is a party.”
He nearly toppled to the ground stepping into jeans, she had him laughing so hard. Damn, but she was adorable. “No awkwardness here.” He glanced at the clock. “Glad you came by, though. I forgot to set the alarm. I have to get going.” He pulled a tee over his head and zipped his fly.
She nodded emphatically, hands still shielding her eyes. “Okay, sure. Go ahead. Just tell me what direction to move so you can get by.”
Hands on his hips, he shook his head. She was this odd mix of sexy, raw, sweet, and uncertain, rolled into an entertaining ball he couldn’t catch and wasn’t sure he should try. Half the time, he wanted to hug the shit out of her, and the remaining amount just plop down next to her and let her drag laughs from him in casual conversation.
He ate the distance and gently took her wrists, lowering her hands. She blinked at him, those long fanning lashes creating a current, and innocent amber eyes locked onto his. Her gingerbread scent hovered in the space between them, both a comfort from childhood and a sultry turn-on. It was all he could do just to stand still and not move when his entire body shouted to do something.
Anything.
Everything.
Her gaze tentatively swept over him. “You’re dressed.”
He smiled at her surprised tone. “Managed it while you were talking.”
“Babbling, you mean. I do it a lot.”
“I know.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He realized he was still holding her wrists, and he circled his thumbs across the soft skin there. “You can’t help it. Just a nervous quirk. It’ll pass when we get to know each other better.”
“Will we?”
“Will we what?”
“Know each other?” She shook her head as if to retract her question. “We’re talking now and I’m in your apartment and I’ve seen you naked…” She slammed her eyes shut. “Duh. Shouldn’t bring that up. Yes, we know each other, but I wasn’t sure if you meant saying hi as we pass on the street or hanging out and sharing secrets? Or maybe you were just being polite? That’s probably it. You were being—”
He met her wide gaze when she suddenly stopped, wondering why on Earth she’d quit her cute as hell rambling. He was beginning to enjoy the idea of making her nervous and…
Oh. Well, crap. He had his hand in her hair, running the silky cocoa strands through his fingers. No wonder she’d gone mute. Damn, but her hair was nearly as soft as her skin.
With deep regret and a lot of effort, he stepped away and severed contact. “No, I wasn’t being polite. Yes, we’ll get to know each other better. And not because you bid on me. What would you like to do for our evening out?”
“The auction date. Anything in mind?” He could think of a few things, and none of them were decent. She was a huge no-no in regards to romance and he needed to remember that. He was not a forever guy. Leading her on would only hurt her in the end. He liked her way too much to cause her pain. Besides, no way, no how would he let the Battleaxes win.
“Er, about that. I didn’t mean to bid on you. I think the Battleaxes are setting us up. I paid the fee, but you don’t have to go through with the date.”
“I don’t have to do anything but breathe and pay taxes. We’ll go out because we want to. As for the fee, I’ll get you that money back because you’re right. They are setting us up. Doesn’t mean we have to let them. We can be great friends and stick it to them.”
She stared at him for the longest breadth of time, a combination of awe and confusion and hope in her eyes. “You want to be friends?”
The purity in her tone and the transparency of her question made him wonder if anyone had ever offered her friendship. Which was absurd. He was reading something into nothing. “Got news for you, sweetheart. We already are.” He grinned for effect.
She flicked her gaze away and back again. “If we’re friends, I don’t want the money returned. It’s a good cause.”
“You’ll get it anyway.”
A defiant cross of her arms. “I won’t accept it.”
He laughed. “We’ll see.” Because he wanted to touch her hair again, badly, he crossed his arms, too. “So, where would you like to go for the non-date and when?”
“Technically, all the auction couples are supposed to go to Le Italy restaurant on Saturday night at seven. They have the back room reserved. It’s, uh, formal. Suits and dresses. Dinner is included in the bidding fee. I have a feeling people will put up a stink if we don’t go.”
“Can’t have that,” he drolled. Just what he wanted, another excuse for a tie. “Saturday night, then. Meeting there is out since it’s a ‘date,’” he said, using air quotes. “I pick you up? You pick me up?”
She looked down, away. Anywhere but at him. “Yes, that’s fine.”
Which part was fine with her? He nodded, not liking her avoidance, but he let it go. He learned so much about her from her rambling that he was almost lost without it. “Something wrong?”
“No, it’s just…” She chewed her lower lip. “I don’t think a lot of townsfolk are happy with the fact I bid on you. Or kinda-sorta bid, anyway. I’ve been getting strange looks.”
Perhaps his mother had been right and Ella was as mortified as him to be matched. Judging by the way some of the women emphatically raised their paddles at the event, he didn’t doubt some of them were jealous.
“We don’t have to abide by their plans. We can do something else.” He’d rather hang around at one of their apartments than be put on display any day of the week and twice on Sundays. Or even just chilling at Shooters.
“No, that’s fine. Saturday it is.” She smiled, but it came nowhere near reaching her eyes.
He’d delve more into the topic later. For now, he had to go. “Are you okay to lock up?”
“Yes. Have a good shift. And I’m sorry again about…” She waved her hand and eyed the bed as if it might bite her. “Walking in.”
“Quit apologizing.” He winked and wove around her. “Text if you have questions.”
The station was a dead zone when he arrived. Mandate said two firefighters per shift in house, but the first and swing shifts had already left. Wayne, his teammate for the evening, was zonked out on one of the bunks in the loft. Jason set his bag down and went in search of food.
Lou was in his office as Jason passed. He paused in the doorway. “Why are you still here? Aren’t you retired yet?”
“Waiting on you, son. Always waiting on you.” Lou glanced at him from over a manila folder, mustache twitching. “Couldn’t leave until you got here and can’t retire until you’re ready to replace me.”
Jason was getting sick of the mantra. He’d been a lieutenant for a few years with dedicated service and an excellent record. He was more than ready. He had no clue what the old fart was waiting for. An omen, perhaps. Or he was too scared to retire. His life had been devoted to the station and the men under him since Jason was a toddler.
Not wanting to do another run-around, he leaned against the frame. “You staying for dinner?” Lou had never gotten married or had kids, and Jason chronically worried about the guy’s health. He’d been the closest thing to a father since Jason’s had been killed. “I’m cooking, so you’re safe.”
“Naw, I’m leaving. Had to finish payroll.” Lou rose and tucked in his shirt, making the paunch of his belly stick out. “Just one of the many exciting things to look forward to when you claim my office.”
“Uh-huh. And that’ll be how many presidential elections from now?”
“No tellin’. I’ll letcha know.”
A roll of his eyes, and Jason headed for the kitchen. He dug around in the freezer, debating roasted chicken or beef stew until his phone buzzed.
Pulling his cell from his pocket, he grinned at the screen.
Dear Jason,
Meows echo loudly in your bathroom. More so in your tub. I shall do this for at least twenty minutes or until it stops amusing me.
Sincerely,
Storm
Laughing his ass off, he sent Ella a grinning emoji as a reply. Clever girl.
Chapter 8
Ella shoved clothes aside in her closet, sliding hangers as she picked through her outfits. Between work and popping by Jason’s place to watch Storm, she’d outright put off planning for the auction date. Panic gripped her chest because tonight was the night. And there was nothing in her wardrobe that was classy enough.
It was still early in the afternoon. She could run up to one of the boutiques and buy something. Except she’d have to dig into her savings to do that, and her goal of buying a little house in the next year could be jeopardized. Her parents’ life insurance had paid for college and her car, leaving a small amount to put aside. Frivolous spending, however minor, wasn’t a responsible move. She’d already had to withdraw funds to pay for the date that wasn’t a date.
Sighing, she dropped her arms, frustrated. Did it really matter if she wore her old plain blue dress? It wasn’t formal, but it was long and it was a dress, after all. And since this wasn’t a real date, who cared?
The town’s reactions to her winning bid came to mind, and she cringed. She’d gone from a wallflower no one noticed to a curious creature that turned heads. She and Jason would be the focus at Le Italy, if this week’s gossip was any indication. He might be used to that sort of thing, but she sure wasn’t. Not to mention, she wasn’t in the same league as him and not being properly dressed would only stir more talk. She would embarrass him. And herself.
Sitting on the bed, she put her head in her hands and rocked. Maybe she should just cancel. He was under no obligation to go through with tonight. She’d tried to say as much, but he’d insisted. They’d texted all week long about Storm, about other things, yet they hadn’t officially discussed this evening. Maybe he’d done that purposefully. Avoidance?
It was much less stressful chatting with him by text. It gave her the opportunity to think, thus eliminating the babbling. She glanced at the phone by her hip. One message. That was all. One message to say she couldn’t make it, and all this worrying would be over.
“What do you think, Xena? He’d probably be relieved if I canceled. I wouldn’t be stared at and judged, and he wouldn’t have to smile through the mortification, counting down the minutes until we could leave.”
Al, yi-yi.
“I agree. Let’s back out and watch a movie marathon instead.”
She could all but hear her cousin Gerta chastising her for not taking a chance as Ella reached for her cell. Risks were just not her cup of tea. She pulled up his info, and a strong sense of disappointment hit her. She paused, thumbs
hovering over the keypad.
This was not a real date. He only wanted to be friends. Thus, her reaction was weird. She had nothing to wear, he wasn’t romantically interested, people would only gawk at her like she was a lab rat, and they had both been coerced into this thing in the first place. She should feel liberated not having to go. A weight off her shoulders.
Why the heck were her fingers refusing to move?
A knock came from her front door, and she frowned. She wasn’t expecting any deliveries, but she rose and padded down the hall to answer. Sometimes her aunt liked to send care packages or thinking-of-you gifts to let Ella know she was loved. She really, really hoped it was that amazing chocolate from that quaint little store down the road from their house that…
Brent stood on her threshold, three garment bags dangling from his finger over his shoulder, hip cocked, and with Miles from across the hall offering a this-wasn’t-my-idea smile behind him.
“Er, hi guys.”
“Hello, sugar plum. Fear not. The cavalry has arrived.” Brent snapped his fingers like a diva who’d not gotten proper recognition. “I’m Brent, and I’ll be your artist for the evening.”
“Good to see you. I don’t understand, though. I didn’t call for an artist or the cavalry.” She didn’t know she had a cavalry.
“Part of the service.” He swished past her and into the apartment, Miles on his heels. “We’re gonna get you all jazzed up for your date with your hunk.”
Whoa. What? “Jason isn’t my hunk. It’s not a date. I didn’t even mean to bid on him. In fact, I was just about to cancel when you knocked.”
“Oh no, girlfriend. You are not cancelling. Are you cray-cray? That man is fine. Where should we set up shop? The bedroom? Good choice.” Brent strode through the living room and disappeared down the hall.
She looked helplessly at Miles.
He offered a crooked smile. “Best to just go with it. He can be very persuasive.”
Dang it. “I’m serious.”
“So is he. Three different shops for three different wardrobe options. He was like a kid in a candy store. He’ll pout for a week if you burst his bubble.” He took her hand, leading her down the hall. “Come on. It’ll be okay. He’s very good.”