Rescue Me (Butler Island) (14 page)

Chapter 17

Sunday’s at the fire station were notoriously calm. No
training or drills, no toilets to scrub, no trucks to wash, no schedule
whatsoever.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true—a ritual of sorts had
been bred many moons ago. It involved warm doughnuts from Anderson’s Bakery and
a rather competitive round of hoops to burn the plethora of fat and calories
they’d inhaled at the start of the day.

Today was no different from any other Sunday in recent
memory. Randall had wolfed down three key-lime-glazed doughnuts upon his
arrival, and as usual, his team consisting of Grant, Ty, and Mark, were
currently up by sixteen points.

Yep, just an ordinary Sunday…

Only, it wasn’t.

Outwardly Randall looked the same, but on the inside
underneath his tough façade, he was a changed man.

Last night he’d sunk his cock deep inside his dead best
friend’s wife. He’d broken cardinal rule number one, and yet that matter was
only the tip of the iceberg. It was the fact he’d enjoyed every blessed moment
of it—
that he couldn’t wait to do it again
—that gnawed on his
conscience.

The sun’s rays pelted his bare back as he dribbled the
ball near the make-shift three-point line. Randall’s eyes scanned the court,
noting the positions of both teammates and opponents, charting the course he’d
likely take.

Bouncing the ball three more times for good measure he
exploded forward, zigzagging, charging ahead until he reached the rickety goal.
Pushing off his left foot he leaped into the air, launching the ball toward the
faded backboard with his right hand. The basketball bounced off the weathered
wood a moment later, then swished through the net, rattling the rusted chains
as it squeezed through.

“Hell yeah!” Grant shouted, raising his hand in front of
him for a high-five.

Randall smacked his palm against Grant’s, then walked to
the edge of the pavement for his water bottle.

“What is that, three games in a row, now?” Grant jived to
the opposing team.

“You got lucky”, Tommy countered. Tipping his head a bit,
he gestured to Randall, now walking toward them. “Burns cut out early last
night. Otherwise, he’d have been too hung over today to—”

Without warning, Randall shoved Tommy with enough force
to cause the man to take a step back in order to remain upright.

“What the hell was that for?”

“What’re you tryin’ to get at, Tommy? Huh? Are you sayin’
I’m a drunk?” Randall stepped forward, adrenaline coursing through his veins,
his fists clenched into two tight masses at his sides.

“No, man—c’mon, it was a joke!”

In the blink of an eye Grant and Ty had Randall by the
shoulders, carting him away from temptation.

“C’mon, buddy, ease up”, Ty warned. “He was just
shit-talkin’ you—the same damn thing I’d do if I’d gotten my ass handed to me
on the court.”

Randall’s eyes skittered to his lieutenant before landing
on Tommy again. Angrily shrugging free from Ty and Grant’s grip he raised his
hand, thrusting his index finger at Tommy for emphasis. “Keep your fucking
hands off Lana”, he uttered through clenched teeth, then turned and stalked
inside, leaving everyone to wonder how their normally calm Sunday had suddenly
turned awry.

It was one of the warmest spring afternoons in what felt
like eons, Lana acknowledged as she scanned the calm surf for Connor’s
whereabouts. After a slew of cold fronts, the Florida Panhandle was returning
to temperate bliss. The cloudless sky was a vivid shade of blue, the sun
directly above showering the earth with luminous love.

Lana’s parents had delivered Connor to her doorstep just
before noon; not wanting to waste the beautiful day indoors, she’d decided to
pack a picnic lunch and head to the beach. Gulf temps were still a chilly
sixty-eight degrees—too cold for her just yet, but apparently not for Connor.
He was currently digging by the water’s edge, tossing the soft wet sand back
into the ocean.

Stuffing their trash into the small portable cooler, Lana
reached for her Diet Coke. She watched as Kendall played with Tenley, now
nearly four-months old. “She rolling over yet?”

“No, but she’s come close a few times. She’ll get on her
side and kick her legs for momentum, then teeter a bit before falling on her
back again.”

“She’ll do it when she’s ready”, Lana explained. “I was
the same way with Connor—I was so excited about the next milestone, sometimes
I’d forget to enjoy the here and now. Savor this time—when you can lay her down
and walk away knowing she’ll be exactly where you left her—because soon she’s
going to be into everything you don’t want her to and be everywhere you’d
rather she wasn’t.”

Kendall reached for her last onion ring and popped it in
her mouth. “You may have a point”, she said as she glanced at Tenley, still
lying in the same spot since their arrival.

“Ty finish baby-proofing the house yet?” Olivia asked
while wiping mayonnaise from the corner of her mouth.

“Are you kidding me? The man brainstorms everyday trying
to figure out ways to make the house safer. In fact I wouldn’t be surprised if
every hard surface isn’t covered in bubble wrap by the end of the summer!”

Lana and Olivia howled with laughter, because they both
understood that if someone suggested the bubble wrap idea to Ty, it would be
implemented in no time.

“Speaking of Ty, I got a very interesting call from him
before I left the house to come here”, Kendall shared.

“Ugh!” Olivia mouthed as she covered her ears. “If you
say you had phone sex with my brother before you came here, I’m gonna lose my
lunch.”

“No, no phone sex—at least,
not this time
…
Actually, it was about Lana.”

Lana slapped her hand against her chest. “Me?” She
questioned incredulously.

“Uh-huh, seems you were the heart of a scuffle this
morning at the fire station.”

Baffled, she asked, “What kind of scuffle?”

“Well according to Ty”, Kendall began while preparing
Tenley’s bottle, “they were playing a round of basketball when Tommy made an
innocent dig about the other team only winning because Randall wasn’t hung
over, incidentally implying he was a drunk, I guess. Apparently Randall didn’t
take it so well and charged at him.”

“
What
?”

“I don’t get it”, Olivia cut in. “What does that have to
do with Lana?”

“That’s the mystery. Because when Ty and Grant hauled him
away, Randall said to Tommy, and I quote, ‘keep your fucking hands off Lana’.”

Both Olivia and Kendall examined her closely. Her face
suddenly felt hot—a symptom that had absolutely zero to do with the sun’s warm
rays and everything to do with the memory of Randall’s rough hands gliding over
her bare skin last night. “H-he said that?”

“Come to think of it, Grant mentioned something last
night about Randall seeing red when you were dancin’ with Tommy”, Olivia
divulged.

Lana fought the urge to squirm as two pairs of analytical
eyes probed her guileful exterior. She picked the red polish from her left
thumb before finally breaking the silence. “Oh, c’mon, I’m not sleeping with
the guy.”
Not Tommy
,
anyway
…

“You know that”—Kendall gestured to Lana—“and we know
that. But you also know how the people in this town like to talk, or should I
say
embellish
.”

Cradling her head in her hands, Lana released a groan of
frustration. “I bet Jenny is fuming right about now. Gosh, if I’d known how out
of hand all of this would’ve gotten, I’d have told him no when he asked me to
dance last night.” Lana’s eyes skittered to the shore in search of Connor. He
was oblivious to the drama unfurling as he shuffled his feet through the chilly
Gulf water.

And she prayed he remained that way.

“Frankly, I felt sorry for the guy”, she went on. “I was
just trying to be polite, you know? He was a complete gentleman on the dance
floor—never once tried to cop a feel or anything!”

“Jenny would have a lot of nerve bein’ upset—she cheated
on
him
, for heaven’s sake!” Olivia stated. “Tommy dancin’ with you is
G-rated compared to what she did with John O’Reilly—“

“
Allegedly
”, Kendall reminded the group, never one
to encourage nasty gossip. “Anyway, I think Rand was just being overprotective,
you know?—looking out for you. I wouldn’t doubt he feels a responsibility to
Jimmy to make sure—”

“Did anyone bring dessert?” Lana didn’t miss the
expression on both her friends’ faces at her obvious attempt at changing the
subject. Clearly the two were curious about Randall’s outburst, but even more
so about Lana’s not-so-subtle attempt to ditch the topic. But one of the things
she loved most about these two was their ability to sense when to pry and when
to leave well enough alone.

Olivia and Kendall shared a quick glance before Olivia
reached into her small basket. “How do doughnuts from Anderson’s Bakery sound?”
she asked as she opened the bag. Instantly they were accosted with the sweet
aroma of succulent bliss as the popular delicacy merged with the salty breeze.

“I love you”, Kendall stated flatly.

Olivia shrugged. “That’s what friends are for.”

Yes, Lana thought as she reached for a key-lime-glazed
doughnut, good friends provided comfort in the form of support and glazed pastries.
They gave advice when one needed it, and held their tongues when it wasn’t. She
was lucky to have these two in her life. Very lucky.

But their presence here today only magnified how profound
her feelings had become for Randall. Because he’d comforted her in a different
way last night, a way in which she hadn’t thought she’d needed.

A method she longed to experience again.

Lana and Connor returned home just before dinner. She was
exhausted—both physically and emotionally—and was thankful Connor had agreed to
Chef Boyardee, exempting her from kitchen duty for the evening. But her son was
a tricky little thing, using her lack of enthusiasm for slaving over a hot
stove in exchange for a round of football in the backyard.

He was good, real good—maybe too good—for his own
britches. It didn’t take much coaxing on his end, just a little pout of his
lower lip and she was putty in his tiny hands.

Connor devoured the can of cheese ravioli in record time,
then raced into his room to change into the Florida State jersey her parents
had given him for his birthday a few weeks ago, returning with his new football
tucked under his arm. “C’mon, mommy, you can be my quarterback!”

Reluctantly she followed her son to the backyard, noting
how the gulf breeze had gained momentum, rustling the trees. She’d play until
dark, which judging by the sun’s position, would be half an hour—tops.

Connor got into position beside her, knees bent, chest
forward, ready to dash across the yard on her cue. “You have to pretend to hike
the ball, Mommy, then throw it over there”, he instructed, pointing toward the
back corner of the fence. “This is a really big play; the whole team’s countin’
on you.”

Lana scanned the yard. There’s nothing like the pressure
of upsetting an invisible team to motivate a quarterback… “Okay, ready?” she
questioned.

“Yep.”

“Go!”

Only he didn’t. Connor straightened and put a hand on his
hip. “Mommy, you’re supposed to say
hut
, not
go
.”

“Oh, okay… Hut!”

Connor dashed across the yard in a perfect line, then
darted to the right. Rearing her hand back, she launched the ball as hard as
she could, wincing as she watched it wobble in the air, falling to the ground
in the middle of the yard.

“That was horrible.”

Lana turned at the sound, the voice both teasing and pure
male.

“Randall!” Connor shouted, sprinting toward him in a
frenzied rush, almost as if his eyes needed to prove to his mind that the image
wasn’t an optical illusion.

Good to know she wasn’t the only one
—because
she’d spent the better part of the day studying the apparition of a man with
thick black hair, two gray eyes swirling with desire, and a body corded with a
mass of solid muscle.

“Hey, squirt—”

“Can you play quarterback? Mommy throws like a girl.”

“Hey”, Lana remarked, resting her hands on her hips. “I
am
a girl, encase you two haven’t noticed.”

“I noticed plenty,
trust me
”, Randall uttered
wryly.

Lana didn’t miss that his wry comment was in reference to
last night, when his mouth and hands had traversed her female form. A shiver of
awareness zipped down her spine, settling low in her belly at the memory.

“I think it’s time your mom got a throwing lesson, don’t
you?” Connor’s little head bobbed up and down with excitement. “What do ya say,
Lana?—you ready for this?”