His Firecracker: Sassy Girls Series

by Reynolds, Rory

  “Have you picked a name yet?”

  “No, but we narrowed it down to ten names.”

  “Well, that’s better than the thirty you had last week,” I tease. “I hear we’ve got a couple new babies in residence.”

  Natalie’s smile slips as she nods, “Yes, twin girls. They are perfect little darlings. Just terrible about their mother. She’s still in the Intensive Care Unit. Last I heard they didn’t know if she’d wake up. Her husband hasn’t left her side.”

  I frown wondering if he’s even thought about the two infants that need their father. “Has he visited the babies?”

  “No, but the uncle has barely left the nursery since they were brought up,” Natalie says tension evident in her tone.

  Interesting. I wonder what about that has her perturbed. It’s not unusual to have extended family visit in these situations, it’s odd that she made a point to mention it. I quirk an eyebrow in question.

  She leans closer to whisper conspiratorially, “He’s intense… scary.”

  “He can’t be that bad,” I scoff.

  “You’ll see.” The ominous tone in her voice makes me wonder.

  The intercom buzzes and I mouth a goodbye. I disregard Natalie’s cryptic warning. How bad can a guy who hangs out with a couple of newborns be? I head to my favorite place in the whole world—the nursery. I stow my things in my locker and pull on my favorite scrub jacket. I’m standing at the sinks scrubbing up when Meg and Sara come bustling into the room. My welcoming smile drops when I see their anxious expressions. Sara leans heavily against the lockers as Meg quickly collects her things, leaving with barely a goodbye.

  What the hell is going on in this place today?

  “I’m so glad you’re here. I can’t take one more second of that man,” Sara gripes, her exasperation clear.

  Curiosity gets the best of me, and I walk to the window that looks into the nursery. Dr. Givens is at the desk working on charts, there are three little cribs with occupants, and the man everyone seems to be up in arms about is standing with his back to me. My eyes rake up and down his body, taking him in from the top of his dark hair down the length of his body. My gaze lingers on the broad expanse of his shoulders, and I can’t help but admire the way his shirt stretches across his muscular back. He has a trim waist, and the way his ass fills out his jeans is enough to fuel my dirtiest fantasies for years to come.

  He adjusts his stance slightly giving me a view of his profile. My attention is immediately drawn to his strong jawline and the perfect slant of his nose. The man is a fucking Adonis, and I can’t seem to look away. My gut clenches with a desire unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. My heart rate spikes, and my breathing becomes labored. His head turns toward me, and the only word to describe the look he gives me is icy. If looks could kill, I’d be dead where I stand. I’m taken aback by the viciousness in that stare, but I don’t have long to think on it because Sara is dragging me away from the window.

  “Don’t stare at him!” she hisses.

  I blink at her in confusion. Don’t stare? How could I not stare? The man is gorgeous. I feel a hint of arousal pool in my belly at the mere thought of him. I must have said part of my thoughts out loud because Sara is fervently shaking her head, a panicked look on her face.

  “He is anything but gorgeous. He’s…” she trails off as if she’s unwilling to finish her thought.

  I wait a couple of beats, but when she makes no indication that she’s going to continue, I tell her I’m going to get to work. She spends a few minutes filling me in on the babies and then she’s gone leaving me with one last warning to steer clear of the Adonis. I roll my eyes as soon as her back is turned and head into the nursery. Dr. Givens looks up from his charts, and like always he gives me a once over, his eyes lingering on my breasts. I instantly feel uncomfortable but paste on a smile just the same.

  “Joselynn it looks like we get to spend some quality time together tonight,” he says, in what I’m sure he thinks is a seductive tone but falls miserably flat.

  “How many patients do we have tonight?” I ask, avoiding his comment altogether. He’s a total creeper, and I do my best not to encourage his advances.

  “We’ve got three in house and seven rooming-in.”

  There is no holding back my wistful smile at that. Ten new little lives. Ten fresh starts. I’m so lost in thought that I almost jump out of my skin when Dr. Givens reaches out to touch a loose strand of my hair. My skin crawls when his clammy hand comes in contact with my skin as he pushes the stray piece of hair behind my ear. I take a step back, but he’s right there with me.

  “Dr. Givens—” I start, but he pushes a finger to my lips, halting my words.

  “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Steve?” he asks, trailing his finger from my lips down toward my neck.

  I flinch away from his touch, tripping over my own feet in my haste to put space between us. Large hands grab me around the waist, preventing my fall. A zing of electricity shoots down my spine when I feel my savior’s hard chest against my back.

  “Keep your hands to your fucking self.” The deep rumble of his voice vibrates through my body, and I swear my panties go up in flames at the sound.

  Dr. Givens scoffs and takes a step forward as if to pull me away, but the man quickly pushes me behind his body, putting himself between us. “That’s highly inappropriate, Mr. Foster. We’ve given you leeway and allowed you full access to the nursery against hospital policy. You’d do well to remember that.”

  I wince, instantly knowing that Dr. Givens made a colossal mistake in threatening this man. It doesn’t take the growl, nor the stiffening of his muscles to tell me that the good doctor is seconds away from retribution. His fists clench and unclench at his sides as if he’s trying to decide the most satisfying way to attack. I don’t know what makes me do it, but I wrap my fingers around one of his large fists. He freezes in place for a second, then inexplicitly his fist loosens, and he tangles his fingers with mine.

  He gives my hand a little squeeze, and my chest fills with warmth at the gesture. It’s been a long time since I’ve held someone’s hand. I’m unsure why I feel so comfortable with a complete stranger. It’s the exact opposite of my usual reaction to people. I typically avoid men completely. Especially, big, strong, powerful men.

  Dr. Givens homes in on our linked fingers, his face turns red, and his eyes shoot daggers at us. “Good luck with that frigid bitch,” he sneers, and then turns on his heels, stalking out of the room.

  I loosen my fingers, not pulling away, but giving my heroic stranger the opportunity to let go. Though, for some unknown reason, the last thing I want is to lose his touch. I’ve never in my life had such a reaction to a man. In fact, I’ve spent the better part of the last six years avoiding any and all men.

  As soon as the door closes behind Dr. Givens, the tension slowly leaks out of me, leaving me slightly off-kilter. I sigh in defeat, knowing that this is going to come back and bite me in the ass sooner rather than later. Strong fingers tighten around mine. It’s as if he knows just how much this altercation has cost me. My bottom lip quivers at the gesture of solidarity and my breath hitches. Dammit. I’m tougher than this. I suck in a shuddering breath and steel my shoulders. I will never let another man beat me down again—even in this small way. Dr. Givens doesn’t deserve my tears.

  I’m still giving myself a pep talk when Mr. Foster pulls me around to his front and wraps his strong arms around me, practically crushing me to his chest. His warm hand runs up the length of my spine, not stopping until he’s cupping the back of my head, fingers gently massaging my scalp. I melt into the sensation. It’s been so long since anyone has shown me any kind of physical affection. Holding his hand filled me with warmth. Being hugged by the man has the whole world shifting, and I have a feeling that nothing will ever be the same again. I shake away that ridiculous thought and pull away from his chest, putting a minuscule amount of distance between us. Even that small space feels like
miles. My body already craves his touch.

  Insanity.

  I find myself avoiding looking up at him, suddenly uncomfortable with how this stranger—this man—saw me so vulnerable. Vulnerability is a weakness, and I can’t afford to be seen as weak. I have to take a deep, calming breath and give myself a mental kick in the ass for me to be able to raise my eyes to meet his.

  I’m utterly breathless as I take him in. If I thought he was hot from a distance, he’s something like God’s gift to the world up close. I meet his eyes and am instantly disappointed to see the same iciness as before looking back at me. It’s such a fierce look—a warning—it screams danger, but I can’t seem to look away.

  “Thank you,” I murmur, not knowing what else to say.

  I study his expression. I’m not sure what I’ve done to earn such hostility from him, especially after he willingly came to defend me. He’s breathtaking even in his anger. His jaw could be cut from granite. I was wrong about his nose being perfect. It’s crooked in a way that says it was broken, maybe more than once, but that doesn’t take away from his looks, it just adds another layer to his attractiveness. His bottom lip is slightly bigger than his top, making him look utterly kissable.

  My heart clenches in my chest as my eyes flit over the left side of his face. He has scars. A lot of scars. The largest starts at his hairline and cuts a line down his cheek ending at the corner of his lips. Even though he’s not smiling, I can tell that the scar would cause it to be lopsided. Something inside me yearns to see if I’m right. I would do anything to make him smile. Crazy as it sounds.

  The scars trail down his neck and disappear under his shirt in a mixture of cuts and vicious-looking burns. None of them take away from his handsomeness. If anything, it makes him even more desirable to me. In the seconds that I’ve been looking at him, I realize his eyes have grown even harder.

  “Did you get your fill of staring at the beast?”

  I’m shocked and saddened by the vehemence in his tone, but when I consider how my coworkers spoke about him, I can understand his outburst. I’m instantly angry that anyone would mistreat a person based on being scarred. Every scar on this man’s body tells a story, one that I find myself wanting to know.

  I choose to ignore his snarling and shove my hand towards him hoping he’ll shake it, stupidly wanting to touch him again. “My name is Joselynn.”

  His eyes narrow as he assesses me. I’m not sure how long our little stand-off lasts, but the tiny cry from behind us pulls us back to the here and now. He turns and moves toward the fussing baby at the same time I do.

  “You don’t have to do that, Mr. Foster,” I say as a reason as to why I’m following him so closely. My thinly veiled excuse falls flat on my tongue because he clearly knows what he’s doing. Deep down, my real reasoning for following is that I don’t want to lose his closeness. It’s stupid and irrational, he obviously isn’t interested, but I like this alternate reality where I’m not terrified of men. I don’t want to lose these warm feelings. It’s like something I didn’t realize I was missing has woken up and losing it again would be painful.

  “Drake,” he barks, his tone so hard that it causes me to stumble to a stop. The old anxiety washes over me, and all those squishy warm feelings I was having are gone in an instant. It’s been years, but the bruises from my past might as well still be branded on my skin. I shiver at the thought. I’ve come a long way since those first years of my escape, but that innate fear of men is ever-present, and he just tapped into that fear with one sharply spoken word.

  It takes all my willpower to not turn into a meek flower, ready to wilt under the oppressive strength of this man. I straighten my spine and pass right by him, heading him off before he makes it to the crib. All the crap of the last several minutes falls away in a blink. Absolutely nothing could dampen the sweetness of caring for a baby.

  “Sweet baby,” I coo. “Hush now little one.” I gently unswaddle her little body and find her diaper dirty. I’m about to lift her from the little bed when Drake’s big hands are there picking her up.

  “Mr. Foster, I can do that,” I say a little more sharply than I intended.

  “These girls deserve to be more than just a job,” he growls, his words like a slap in the face.

  I’m trying to sputter my response when there’s a whimper from another crib that is building into a wail. I turn and see it’s the little boy and sigh in relief, and then feel instantly guilty for being happy it isn’t the second twin. I lean over him and whisper sweet words just for his ears. I refuse to let Drake’s—no, Mr. Foster’s—attitude sully the joy I get from taking care of these babies.

  I check little man’s diaper and find it’s clean. I swaddle him again, giving him more sweet words as I pick him up. He fits perfectly in the crook of my arm. I seamlessly move through the steps of opening one of the premade bottles—switching the cap for a nipple and giving it a good shake, all without disturbing the baby. I pick my favorite rocking chair and sit before offering little man the bottle. He roots against the nipple missing it in his panicked excitement to eat.

  “Here you go, little darling,” I soothe, deftly poking the nipple between his little lips. His gray eyes blink at me as he greedily sucks at the bottle. I hum in approval as he eats, pausing once to burp him. I rock with him for longer than I need to, just enjoying his warm weight in my arms. Every baby that comes through the nursery gets a piece of my heart. There are days that I worry that I can’t possibly have more to give, but then another baby comes, and my heart expands with even more love proving that I have an endless supply.

  The lock beeps on the door, and one of the aides enters, pulling a crib into the room. “Got a new resident for you,” Gigi says.

  “Always room for another.” I grab the chart from her and compare patient numbers against the bracelets the baby wears. “Well, little Miss Francine, welcome to baby central. I’m Joselynn, and I’ll be here to meet all of your needs.”

  Gigi laughs, “Girl, you’re a nut.”

  “Pistachio through and through,” I agree with a smile.

  Gigi’s eyes flash over my shoulder to where I know Drake is standing. “Everything going okay here?”

  Anger flares in my veins. Yet another person who is unfairly judging Drake based on his appearance. I admit that he’s gruff and surly, but from the way people react to him, I can hardly blame the guy. I’m still hurt at how quickly he went from protector to asshole earlier, but I can forgive him. He has no way of knowing that I’m different than the rest.

  Instead of giving Gigi a piece of my mind, I flash her a huge smile. “Everything is great. Drake is a huge help with the twins. They are lucky to have such a wonderful uncle.”

  I hear a sharp intake of breath from behind me, and I can sense that his eyes are on me. The way Gigi’s eyes widen as she takes a step backward toward the door, confirms that our conversation has garnered his undivided attention. I can’t hide my smirk when she makes an excuse and rushes out the door. I can still feel his eyes on me, but I resist turning around. I might have stood up for him, and I definitely forgive him for lashing out at me, but I’m not ready to let him know that.

  2

  Drake

  I felt her eyes on me before I ever saw her. I’m used to stares. My scars are hideous. I can’t stand to look at myself, so I can’t blame others for finding me ugly. I’ve got my back to the room, so I know she can’t see them, but that bitchy nurse is probably filling her in right now. I overheard the nurse calling me a beast among other things, nothing I’ve not heard before, but it still pisses me off.

  When I hear someone telling the newcomer not to stare, I’m curious enough to turn and get my own look. I turn just enough to see the woman, but not enough to reveal my scars. My eyes land on blonde-haired, blue-eyed perfection. She’s short, maybe five three or five four, with lush curves in all the right places. Her guileless blue eyes take me in, her berry pink lips are parted in a gasp, and for the first time in longer than I can
remember, a woman is looking at me with desire, not pity.

  The bitchy nurse grabs the beauty and drags her away. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but I can imagine. I give her one of my patented glares, the kind that sends people scurrying away with their tails between their legs. I’m not a dick, but a man can only take so much pity, fear, and disgust from people before he cracks.

  Not for the first time, I curse the day I survived the explosion. Then immediately regret the thought. I wouldn’t change saving the lives of my brothers-in-arms. Had I died in the initial blast, they wouldn’t be with their families right now, and I wouldn’t be here with my beautiful nieces. Looking at their sweet faces makes all of the other bullshit worth it.

  Family is worth everything. A small pang twinges in my chest at the realization that I may never have this for myself. Women don’t flock toward the scarred, surly man with a whole closet full of skeletons.

  I push the woman from my mind. There are more important things to worry about right now. My sister is in critical condition and may not live to see her daughters, and my best friend can’t bring himself to leave her bedside. Which is why I’m here watching over the twins and praying for a fucking miracle.

  I hear her enter the room and her citrusy sweet smell seems to fill the space. Her melodic voice sends a frisson of heat down my spine. Then my vision blurs to red because I hear that asshole Givens hitting on her. Just a glance in her direction shows the stiffness in her shoulders and the discomfort with the situation.

  Has he been harassing her?

  When her voice trembles in response to his advances, my control snaps. I’m halfway to them when he reaches out and touches her. She flinches away, and every protective instinct in my body roars to life. Before I realize what I’ve done, I have my arms around her, and if she hadn’t put her soft, calming hand on mine, I would have laid Givens out on his ass.