Her Firecracker (The Fireworks Series)

by Laney Powell

  Carla stood and came over to my side of the table. She opened her arms and reached for me, hugging me without words.

  Which is right when Nate Devine walked up, still in his fireman gear. If I hadn’t been close to distraught, I would have admired how good he looked.

  “It’s safe for you to go back in. Don’t cook tomorrow until you can get the electrician in, but you can get back into your apartment,” he said to me.

  “Thank you. Thank you for coming so fast,” I said.

  “You’re lucky you’re two blocks away,” he said. “Imagine if it was ten.”

  It took me a minute to realize he was joking, just as Carla walloped him on the arm. “This is not the time for teasing, Nate Devine!” She scolded.

  He laughed with her, and I felt the relief washing over me. I wasn’t out of business before I even got started. Things would be all right. This was a hiccup. I stopped my internal dialogue when I realized everyone was looking at me. “I’m sorry?”

  “Let’s get you home, okay?” Carla asked. “We’ll be over and clean and get things going with Bertie.”

  I didn’t even ask who Bertie was. The electrician, I supposed. Right now, it didn’t matter. I was exhausted, and I let Carla lead me away. She helped me get settled in the apartment, and I fell asleep before the door even closed behind her.

  I woke early the next morning, stretching in bed. I felt a lot better today. The doom and gloom of yesterday was gone. It was not even seven, but I was in the mood to bake, so I went out to my kitchen and started on cupcakes.

  When Carla knocked on my door after ten, I’d showered, and had four dozen cupcakes of varying flavors frosted and ready to go.

  She looked around as she came in behind me. “You’re a stress baker?”

  I nodded.

  She laughed. “So nice to know it’s not just me. But are you a stress eater?”

  “No, I’m a stress giver.”

  “Who are these for?”

  “The firemen,” I said.

  “Girl, you’re going to do fine here,” she patted my arm. “You want some help taking these over?”

  I shook my head. “No, I’ll just pop over and drop them off.”

  “Take your time,” she turned to leave. “Bertie’s been here for a bit, and he’s going to have this outlet fixed by the end of the day. We’ll do a test run and be ready to go.”

  “We can—“ I began.

  “No, you can take the day off, missy. Dave and I have this under control.” Her face brooked no discussion as she glared at me over her shoulder. “I don’t want to see you in there today.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I saluted her.

  “Good. I’ll call you later.” With a smile, she disappeared.

  How in the hell had I gotten so lucky as to buy from people like this? It was so fantastic, I wanted to pinch myself. But I had. This was where I was supposed to be. I smiled to myself and boxed up the cupcakes for the short walk over to the fire house.

  As I walked in, having taken longer than normal to make sure I didn’t drop anything, I walked into the open garage bay of the firehouse and there was Nate Devine, shirtless, bent over a table and working on something. It was already hot this morning, which gave him a sheen of sweat.

  All my lady bits sat up and took notice. He should come with a warning.

  Then he stood up and smiled when he saw me. “Hey, Serena,” he said.

  Oh, dear Lord. Everything below the waistline went up in flames.

  Nate

  She was gorgeous. Even looking tired, and still a little stressed, Serena May was the hottest thing I’d seen in ages. I felt my cock harden at the sight of her framed in the sunlight coming in the open bay door.

  “Hey,” her voice was huskier than I’d heard it. “I brought… I brought these. Just a small thank you,” she gestured with the four cake boxes she had stacked in front of her.

  “Is it sweet?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  “With frosting?” Without realizing it, my voice dropped.

  She heard it, because her nod was slower, more guarded.

  “Then we thank you from the bottom of our always hungry stomachs,” I said. Jesus, if I didn’t lighten this up somehow, we’d end up naked in about three minutes. At the thought of this woman naked with me, my cock got harder, and I could feel every inch of my skin.

  She stepped closer, holding the boxes out and I could smell the baking on her—vanilla, and cake batter. My favorite flavor in the world.

  I took them. “You want to come in, help me put these away?” I asked, just so she wouldn’t leave.

  “Um… “ She stopped. “Yeah, okay. I’m happy to.”

  Well, shit. That wasn’t a ringing endorsement. But it was a challenge. I grinned as I turned, not looking to see if she followed me. “You didn’t bake these in that oven, did you?”

  “No. I keep supplies in my personal kitchen as well.”

  “Well we’re lucky you did,” I said, walking into the kitchen. I brought the boxes over and opened the top one. The smells of frosting and cake wafted out. I nearly died on the spot.

  After twenty years in the SEALs, I didn’t always have the chance to get cake, and all the comfort foods. So, when I had access to it, it was even more of a treat. Even now, when deprivation wasn’t the name of the game. Speaking of which, I had to get my shit under control. Any more awesome from this woman and I was going to be pitching a tent right here in the damn kitchen.

  “This smells amazing,” I said.

  “Then have one now,” her voice was teasing. “No one will know.”

  I turned to look at her, taking a bite out of yellow cupcake loaded with frosting. Holy shit, buttercream frosting. She just needed to marry me and cook for me forever. I’d even do a big wedding—what in the actual hell? I needed to stop this immediately. My brain knew that instinctively, but my body did not give one fuck what my brain thought.

  “This is… “ I got out around the cupcake.

  “Delicious?” She laughed. “Thank you. I know. I give good cupcake.”

  We both stopped and looked at one another. The tension between us was so intense I thought the buttercream frosting would melt right off the cupcake. Which wasn’t bad. I knew plenty of places that frosting could go. Where I could lick it off—

  “Well, be sure to share with you coworkers,” Serena said.

  Her voice sounded shaky. She turned, brushing past me on her way out of the kitchen. I put my hand on her arm, and she jumped like I’d burned her.

  “You scared me,” she said.

  “I could scare you some more,” I said.

  Her eyes widened. “What?” She whispered.

  Slowly, so slowly it felt as though I wasn’t even moving, I leaned down, cupping her face with my right hand. I kissed her, lightly, tentatively. She leaned into me, and I inhaled the sweet smell of vanilla and cream. I dropped the cupcake I was holding, and brought that to her face, kissing her with more intensity.

  The moment I’d touched her, I felt myself overtaken with stark, naked need. I wanted her so badly. My cock ached at the thought of being this close to her—just a little further—I slid my hand into her hair, pulling her close to me, snugging her body to mine, letting her feel how hard I was for her.

  Her arms twined around my neck. That was a good sign. I took a few steps forward, moving her to the wall. When she bumped into it, I reached under her, cupping her ass and moving her up so that I could lean into her, put myself right between her thighs.

  God, she felt so good. Her hands were in my hair, and the shy beginning when our lips met was long gone. She was kissing me as ferociously as I kissed her, nipping at my lips. It nearly made me lose all control, it was so damn hot.

  I ground my cock against her, and I felt her gasp. Her hands gripped my shoulders.

  And she pushed me away.

  “What?” I asked quietly, trying to slow my racing blood and pumping heart. My cock throbbed.

  She ru
bbed her face. “What is this?” She pulled her hand away and there was icing on it.

  Oh, shit. I looked more carefully at her.

  There was frosting on her cheek—oh shit. I winced. And in her hair. “I think it’s frosting,” I said, insuring she’d never talk to me, much less let me touch her, again.

  “What? Oh, my God!” She swiped at her face and hurried to the door. Before she walked out, she looked back over her shoulder. “I hope everyone enjoys the cupcakes.” Then she ran from the door, presumably out of the firehouse. I let her go.

  “Well, way to go, Devine,” I said. To top off all the other shit that had just gone sideways, I had cupcake all over the kitchen floor. I pulled out the mop and got to work. No need to leave evidence for everyone else in the station to see.

  As I cleaned up the bits of frosting, I wondered if I’d blown it entirely. Probably. But she hadn’t said go to hell, or don’t come near me or I’ll call the police, so I could probably go and talk with her. Talk about what happened.

  Talk about us. Because there was something there—something I was looking for, something I’d never found before. One kiss, one whiff of her sweet bakery smell, and I was a goner.

  The fact that she’d walked—no, run—out? That was a minor complication. I was whistling as I went back to work, contemplating the ways I was going to make Serena May mine.

  Serena

  I hurried along the sidewalk, keeping my head down. There was frosting in my hair. He must have had it on his hand, and then—oh, God. He grabbed my ass. I wanted to reach behind me to see if I had frosting smeared there as well, but I was in public.

  “Please let me make it back, please don’t let me see anyone,” I muttered. “Please, please, please.” I felt off enough about throwing myself at Nate. I didn’t need for anyone to see me and ask questions.

  It was like a walk of shame, but with evidence.

  I slowed down. Wait a minute. I was a grown woman. This wasn’t a walk of shame to anyone. It wasn’t even a walk of shame. I hadn’t done anything wrong. As good as Nate Devine looked, jeez, as good as he felt and tasted and smelled—he was a distraction I did not need.

  And he got frosting in my hair. And potentially on my ass. When I had to walk said ass home. In public.

  You could have washed them off if you’d stayed long enough to need a shower, a sly voice inside my head whispered.

  “Shut up,” I muttered. I made it back to the bakery in record time and zoomed up to my apartment without stopping in to see how things were going. I needed some time to gather myself, calm my racing heart and screaming hormones, and to change my clothes. Maybe wash my hair.

  As I stood in the bathroom cleaning the little frosting surprises off my face and in my hair, although not, thankfully, on the seat of my pants, I thought about that kiss.

  That was the best kiss I’d ever had. Hands down. The. Best. What would sex be like? Probably the best too, and I’d just walked away from it.

  Jeez Louise. I’d come here determined to stay free of entanglements of the man kind, and here I was, totally tangled up and no clue how to move forward.

  You could just move forward with Nate, the sly inner voice cut into my thoughts.

  “I could,” I said, looking at myself in the mirror. “Why couldn’t I?” It would be like getting to know anyone else. There was nothing saying I couldn’t go out on a date with the guy.

  Nodding at myself in the mirror, I changed my clothes, and went down to give Carla and Dave a hand.

  “Hey, honey,” Carla said as I came in. “We’re moving right along!” She indicated the wall with the ovens, which now had a neatly cut hole, instead of the jagged opening that had been there the last time I’d seen it. “Bertie just finished fixing the outlet, so next is patching it up, then painting. I figured though that we might be able to do some prep up in your place?”

  “That sounds great,” I said, relieved to have something to do. I didn’t want to think about Nate Devine—well, that wasn’t true. I did. But I needed to focus and get my business back on track.

  And maybe get some information out of Carla.

  As we made up mixes, and put them in storage containers so only the liquids needed to be added, we chatted, and then Carla asked, “So what happened to send you out here?”

  “What do you mean?”

  She laughed. “Honey, I’ve been in the business of paying attention to people for thirty years. I know when someone is running. What are you running from?”

  I stirred the cake mix I was making, head down. How much did I want to tell her? I took a deep breath, and decided to be honest. “I am happy to tell you, but can I ask that you not tell anyone else, outside of Dave?”

  She stopped her own mixing to look at me with a concerned expression. “Of course.”

  “Last year, my fiancé left me at the altar. Like, at the actual altar. I was in the church, waiting to go down the aisle, hundreds of people, and he sent his dad in to tell me he wasn’t coming, and that he was sorry. Sorry!” I stabbed at the flour mix ferociously. “He was sorry! He couldn’t have said anything before? No, he had to wait and make sure that I found out in the worst way possible, and made sure that no one would ever look at me without remembering that I was dumped when it came time to make it official,” I ground out. “He let me make all the plans, do all the things, and then he was just so sorry,” I finished, sarcasm evident in my words.

  “Oh, Serena, I’m so sorry,” Carla said.

  I looked up. “You have more sincerity in those words than Shawn ever did. I spent a year in Bristol after that, trying to forget all I’d been planning on for the previous year. I’d see him around, try not to kill him. My parents were sure I was going to fall into a depression, and I did, of sorts.” I stopped, thinking about it. “I was mad. He was so thoughtless, so shitty. All he had to do was tell me he’d changed his mind.”

  “Would you have listened?”

  I laughed but there was no humor in it. “I don’t know that I would have. Maybe he tried, and I just steamrolled over him. But if he really didn’t want to get married, he needed to tell me, and keep telling me until I did listen. Instead, he chose the most cowardly and hurtful way to make sure I heard him.” I sighed, feeling some of the anger this stirred up leave me.

  “About six months ago, I realized he’d done me a favor. We didn’t need to be married. Better to know now than get divorced later. But I also realized I needed to get out of there. When Mal told me that you all might be interested in selling, it was a lifesaver. My parents didn’t understand. They just didn’t get it that I didn’t want to stay in Bristol and be the girl that Shawn Rowland left at the church.” I sighed. “Then I’d be permanently angry.”

  “You did the right thing,” Carla said. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, but I’m glad it brought you here. And when you’re ready to look at men again and not throw things, there’s a lot of nice men in this town.”

  I laughed again, and this time, it was genuine. She had no idea that I’d already expressed some interest in a man that had nothing to do with throwing things, unless it was my clothes on his floor. “No, no, Carla, no fixing me up.”

  “You’ve seen a lot of our fire department. Pretty hunky for a small town. The police are good looking too—well, half of them. The other half are old and set in their ways and not worth the trouble,” she said.

  Which made us both laugh.

  “We also have some nice-looking park rangers that come through—”

  “Stop, stop! I get it! I get that you have a thing for a man in a uniform,” I said.

  Her eyes looked dreamy. “Oh, yes indeed. Dave is a former Marine, and he came back here one time to visit his parents, and that was it for me. Never looked at another man since. Well, not much.” She pealed in laughter.

  This was exactly what I needed today.

  “All right, then, who should I avoid?” I asked, teasing.

  Her laugh faded. “Not many. I’ll tell you though
, Carmine at the fire department, he’s a lady’s man. Nice about it, but he’s one, nonetheless. I think that Nate is as well. He’s only been back maybe six months?” She frowned as she thought.

  “Back from where?”

  “He served in the Navy, as a SEAL. Left home the second he could, and we didn’t see him much. But he retired—”

  “How old is he?” I interrupted.

  “Mid-thirties? I’m not exactly sure. Somewhere in there.”

  My thoughts wandered as I considered this. A maybe player, and he was maybe ten years older than I was. Hmmm. That was definitely not promising.

  Maybe I wouldn’t ask him out. I’d been decided before Carla and I talked. But now?

  I just didn’t know.

  Nate

  The next couple of days, while I thought about Serena regularly, I didn’t have time to go see her. Everyone at the station was on, and we were all pulling long shifts. People were starting with fireworks, and we’d already put out a couple of small fires and tended to several groups of teens who’d burned themselves lighting fireworks.

  The morning of the fourth was clear and cool. I had fireworks detail away from the station house, and after breakfast, I went over to where the guys hired by the town were already setting up.

  I took a tanker truck and hosed down the area around the platform where we’d set up. I’d do this again, probably twice, before the shoot.

  The day passed quickly. We set up the racks, loaded the tubes, and then spent most of the day stringing the fuse chains. There were also individual shells, fired off for greater effect, which each required their own fuse. It was a labor-intensive process. I’d been doing this kind of thing my entire adult life, but this was the first time I’d make something go boom and no one would die.

  It was a nice thought. A good one. It made me smile.

  And then I wondered if Serena would watch the show. Every time I stepped outside the station house, I could see people going in and out of the bakery down the street. She was busy, too.

  The problem was, I didn’t know what to say. Not only because I wasn’t sure why she’d pulled away from me, but I wasn’t sure if I was disappointed or relieved. I hated to admit it was a little of both. No sense in lying to myself. This was potentially better than outright rejection.