Ignite (12 page)

Her phone buzzed in her hand.

Yeah. Tate's engine got called out on a strike team. Big fire near Sacramento. I'm stuck here covering. No days off in the foreseeable future.

She pressed her lips together, staring at West's text. Firefighters worked lots of overtime and during the summer months, the Cal Fire guys worked constantly.

But West said he was at the station. He hadn't been called out on a fire. So maybe . . .

Want some company? Or are you not allowed visitors?

Hitting Send before she chickened out was the only way to go. She sat on the edge of the bed and chewed on a fingernail while she waited for his reply. Where had her it's-just-sex attitude gone?

Right out the freaking window.

Yeah you should stop by and see me. If you want. No shower time though.

Harper smiled, liking how he added the
if you want
. Please. She so wanted. But she needed to play it cool. Not behave like an overeager slobbery dog.

I could stop by for a little while I suppose.

There. That was perfect. Making the offer but not saying
please let me move in with you!
That would just reek of desperation. And she didn't want to move in with him. Despite the fact that he was living in her former home and she'd give anything to crash the spare bedroom there so she wouldn't have to deal with her grandma kicking her out on a Saturday night so she could entertain her gentleman friend.

Otherwise known as her grandma's hookup. Yikes.

Her phone dinged.

You suppose? Sure it wouldn't put you out to come all the way out here?

The station was on the opposite end of town, but she was willing to drive all that way to spend a little quality time with West, even if it wasn't private.

I'm sure.

She hesitated, then decided to go for it.

Plus I'd like to see where you work.

Meaning she'd like to see him, if only for an hour. Sitting around in his uniform. Looking sexy. Offering up one of those secret smiles that drove her a little crazy with wanting him.

He didn't hesitate answering her at all.

Then come by around eight.

Smiling, she tapped out her two-letter response:

Ok. ☺

H
ARPER TOOK A
shower. She washed her hair, spent almost thirty minutes blowing it dry, and even curled the ends with her two-hundred-dollar curling iron. Yeah, that silly curling iron had been a huge expense but well worth the purchase. Her twice-a-year excursions to Sephora were some of her favorite shopping experiences.

Taking into consideration the weather, her outfit was chosen with care—white denim shorts and a red tank top that clung to her boobs nicely, if she did say so herself. Subtle makeup and a slick of that same red lipstick she'd worn last night to seduce him completed the look.

And her efforts proved worth the time. The moment she exited her car and West first saw her, his appreciative gaze started a warm, downright manic flutter in her stomach.

“Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?” That slow, syrupy drawl of a voice washed over her as he swept her into his arms. That she was plastered up against her car made her want to laugh. He hadn't let her get two steps before he had her pinned.

She rested her hands on his chest, momentarily preventing his lips from settling on hers. “What if someone sees us?”

He frowned, a little crease appearing between his eyebrows. That was so cute. Pretty much everything he did was cute, even when he looked put out. “Who cares? They're all inside anyway.”

His casual
who cares
remark threw her, allowing him the kissing advantage. He settled his mouth on hers, slow and easy, her eyes sliding shut as he proceeded to kiss every rational thought out of her brain.

Oh, boy. This could become a real addiction, real quick.

Admiring his uniform shirt, she ran her hands down the front of his chest when he broke away from her lips. There was a shiny gold name badge pinned on the right side of his chest, right above the pocket. She slowly traced the letters, could feel him watching her, and it made her feel shy.

So incredibly silly.

“Weston Gallagher.” Harper glanced up at him, saw the way his gaze dropped to her mouth. Looked like he had a one-track mind tonight. “Did you ever think you'd be back here in Wildwood, Weston Gallagher?”

He shook his head, leaning in to kiss her again, but she dodged him. Once they started that she wouldn't want to stop and nothing was happening tonight at the station. She could guarantee that. His magic lips may cause her to lose all rational thought, but they were at his workplace. No way would she ever do something scandalous with him while he was on duty.

Well. She didn't think she would . . .

“This was the last place I expected to find myself,” he admitted, rerouting his intent and burying his face against her neck. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in as close as she could get him. Just for a few seconds. Just so she could savor being in his arms.

“Are you glad you're back?” She held her breath, not only because he was nibbling her earlobe, but also because she waited for his answer.

“Yeah. There are a lot of benefits to being back in Wildwood.” He lifted his head, smiling at her before he went in for another quick kiss.

She let him have it this time. She never claimed she was any good at using restraint. “Such as?” she asked, blinking up at him. Would he say her? No, he couldn't say her. That was expecting too much. Way, way too much.

And she needed to remember that she expected nothing but a good time from West.

He skimmed calloused fingers across her cheek, tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear, his gentle touch making her shiver. His hands were rough, a real man's hands. A workingman's hands, not a soft accountant-type hand in sight. Oh, she really, really liked those hands of his, especially when they were on her. “You're pretty high up on that benefits list, Harper.”

Her heart did a dramatic tumble in her chest, landing somewhere in the vicinity of her stomach. “So no regrets, Mr. Gallagher?” Why was she pretending to be some sort of demented reporter? And why was she asking him questions with answers that scared her?

“None whatsoever so far.” He kissed her again, taking this one deeper. Longer. Helping her get lost in the sensual sweeps of his tongue, the way his fingers tangled up in her hair, his other hand sliding over her butt, back and forth, nudging her closer and closer.

“West,” she whispered against his lips, trying to get him to stop. “We need to slow down.” Not just the kissing, but . . . everything. He knew just how to sweep her off her feet, but she couldn't get too caught up. This was just sex with West. That was it.

Just. Sex.

“The hell we do.” He tilted his head, changing the angle of their kiss, and she tried to shove him away. She needed a clear head.

“I'm serious.” She curled her hand into a fist and rapped it against the center of his chest, trying to fend him off. But he wasn't budging. Of course he wasn't budging. He was built like one of those towering pines that circled Wildwood. Tall and imposing and freaking impossible to move. “There will be no freaky business happening at this station.”

He started to laugh. It was such a nice sound, rich and inviting. She remembered back in high school when he would laugh often, the sound so infectious that people would swarm around him, desperate to get near him, be his friend, his girlfriend, whatever. She'd never been lucky enough to be one of the coveted few who'd moved through life in West Gallagher's social circle. Oh, she'd been closer to him than most, but being the best friend of his sister hadn't really counted back then.

She definitely remembered wishing for something more, for something like what they were sharing at this very exact moment. Firmly believing back then that what she yearned for was nothing but a fairy tale, a pipe dream, pie in the freaking sky.

Whatever that saying meant. She should probably do a Google search on that later . . .

Taking a deep breath, she tried to keep it together.

Okay. Focusing.

“Next you'll tell me there will be no hanky-panky.” When she didn't say anything he continued, looking perplexed. “My parents always used that saying. I thought it was dumb.”

She could beat him. “My parents called it
getting frisky
. After a while, that just got embarrassing.” So incredibly embarrassing. But her parents had insisted that was their purpose in life—giving their kids as much grief as possible and making their life a living hell of constant embarrassment.

“I think we should bring it back.” There went his mouth again, brushing against hers with infinite, excruciatingly slow care. “Getting frisky. I love it.”

“You do not,” she mumbled against his mouth, a gasp escaping her when he licked—
licked
—her lips. Right there in the parking lot of the Wildwood fire station. He'd lost his mind.

Well, so had she so at least they were equal.

“Your tank top is ruining me for life,” he said as he rested both of his hands on her waist and slowly brought them up. Up. Until they rested just beneath her breasts, touching them but not really. More like a ghost of a touch, eliciting a phantom of a feeling.

All the breath caught in her throat, but somehow she managed to talk. “What do you mean?”

“Red and sexy, revealing just the slightest hint of cleavage without being blatant. The fabric clinging to your curves so I can see exactly how hard your nipples are.” He was leaning in. Yet again, the persistent man, but she dipped her head down to check out said nipples only to find them announcing to anyone who was looking that they were very, extremely hard. Damn her too-thin bra.

“A gentleman wouldn't look,” she chastised primly, hoping he could possibly stay a gentleman for a few more minutes so God and anybody else on shift at the station wouldn't see her getting felt up by their man in charge.

“I never said I was a gentleman, Harper. You of all people should know that.” His amused tone was undeniable. As in, she couldn't deny that she found every word that fell from his lips charming. Each way that he touched her, she wanted to find another way, and yet another way, again and again, in order to keep him keep on touching her.

“Why did you kiss me that night?” she asked just as he started running his lips along the side of her neck.

West lifted his head to look at her, his gaze full of confusion. “What night are you talking about?” His tone was casual. Too casual. He knew exactly what night she was referring to.

“The night before you packed your bags and escaped Wildwood supposedly for good,” she reminded him, poking his chest with her index finger.

His expression went from neutral to miserable in a split second. “I was a jackass that night.”

“Totally.” Well. She'd had the time of her life that night. It was the next morning when she'd gotten so angry, when she discovered that he'd left without a good-bye. Kiss and run, that was West's specialty.

“You were just so pretty and sweet and looking at me with those big eyes of yours and . . . ” His voice drifted.

“And?” she asked when he remained silent for too long.

“And I couldn't resist you. I wanted just one taste.” He tried to kiss her again, but she dodged him. “Once I had a taste, I wanted another. And another. You never protested.”

She couldn't protest, not when it came to West.

“I've always felt like shit for ditching you like that,” he admitted.

Dropping her gaze from his, she traced her index finger over his badge, trying her best to keep her composure. “It hurt, how you left. You never tried to contact me. Ever.”

“I was an asshole.” He blew out a ragged breath. “I'm sorry.”

“You're still an asshole.” A sexy asshole. She curled her hand into a fist and lightly pounded the center of his chest. “But I forgive you.”

He slipped his fingers beneath her chin, tilting her face up so her gaze met his. “Really?”

Harper nodded but remained silent. Her throat was suddenly clogged with all the words she couldn't say.

“Thank Christ,” he muttered just before he kissed her. Soft and slow and deliberate. He used his lips like weapons to obliterate all of her thoughts, her every possible protest.

Whatever they were experiencing, this particular encounter—all of their encounters, really—couldn't go any further. Nothing beyond the casual, oh let's screw around and get it out of our system type of thing.

And she definitely wasn't going to let anything happen between them tonight. There were people who worked for him inside the barracks and he could get a call at any minute. She refused to let him feel her up or try to take her clothes off while they were outside pressed up against her car like two horny teenagers ready to go at it whatever chance they got.

They were older now and more mature. They had homes. Careers. Lives.

Well, not really, at least not in your case. You're crashing at your grandma's and West is paying rent on your old condo.

Huh.

And your so-called career is in the toilet. What do you plan on doing once you're done cleaning out the office at the BFD? Do you even know?

Harper frowned. Maybe she didn't know. And who cared? She certainly didn't. Not that she wanted to become dependent on a man and sweep his floors barefoot while a baby rested on her hip. No freaking way was she looking for something like that.

She needed a man who believed in modern things, who used his brain for good and not for evil, who wanted nothing more but to take care of her, all the while believing in her to go out into the world and kick its ass.

Could West be that man?

Nah. Probably not. He said so himself that he wasn't relationship material. But did he still think that way though? Besides, didn't it sort of hurt, that she couldn't have something . . . real with him?

No. She wanted easy and casual, and that's what she was getting. There was no need to raise her expectations. Lowering them was smarter. For once, she needed to guard her heart.

Not lay it all out only for it to get smashed to bits.

W
HILE
W
EST HAD
no problem appreciating a beautiful woman, he could usually keep his hands to himself, especially at work.

He'd seen a few of his fellow employees lose their shit over women over the years. One captain he worked for had had a sweet, unsuspecting wife at home and a trashy girlfriend who'd visit him while he was on shift. They'd disappear nightly—rumor had it she'd given him blowjobs out back behind the garage.

Yeah. That entire scenario had disgusted him. Rumor also had it that his own father had had a few illicit affairs himself back in the day. His parents' marriage had been on shaky ground at one point. But somehow, his mother had forgiven his dad and taken him back. Their relationship was stronger than ever.

But based on that tumultuous moment in his parents' marriage, West's view on relationships had been forever skewed. His feelings about his father were forever altered too, not that the old man cared too much. They still hadn't spent any time together since West returned to Wildwood. Claimed he was too busy fishing out in his boat.

Figured his father would rather fish alone out on the lake than see his son. Not that West really wanted to see him either.

He'd never had a woman visit him while he was at the station. He'd never
wanted
a woman to visit him. Seemed best to keep his work and personal relationships separate, thank you very much. Yet seeing Harper when she emerged from her car wearing those tiny shorts and that clingy tank top had turned him into a slobbering fool. His hands had literally itched to get on her. And once they had, he still wasn't satisfied. He wanted more.

He wanted naked.

Breathing deep, he tucked her close to him and glanced around, thankful no one was outside. They were all in the barracks, hanging out in the commons area and watching a movie. Ice-cream sundaes were being prepared when he'd gone outside to meet Harper and, while he could appreciate hot fudge sauce as much as the next guy, for once in his life he wasn't thinking with his stomach.