Bad Boy's Kiss (Firemen in Love Book 2) (3 page)

But it wasn't the department. Not Hank, calling to tell me he'd made a mistake, that he changed his mind and they needed me.

It was my brother.

I had a nice, big gulp of my drink. Talking to him meant I was going to need it.

“Trey, man. Haven't heard from you in a long time.”

Trey sighed. “Well, you know how life gets in the way. I'm glad you picked up. Thought you might be at work.”

“Uh, not today. I'm kind of on... an extended vacation.”

No point telling him I'd gotten fired for my drunken carousing. The guy would lecture me even more than Jayce. The last thing I needed was to hear what a loser I was all over again.

“A vacation? That's great. I'm actually calling 'cause I could really use your help.”

“Ah, of course. You only contact me when you need something. I should have guessed.”

The beer was already empty? Thank goodness I had a shelf full in the fridge and a twenty-four pack in the carport.

“This is serious. Have you been watching the news? The hot and dry season is kicking into full gear out here. They're saying it could be the worst year on record for wildfires.”

No, I had not been watching the news. Couldn't stand seeing my face on TV as the cops shoved me to the ground like a criminal.

“That sucks. I dunno why you're still living out there, honestly. It's so damn dry, somebody drops a cigarette in a bush and every tree in a fifty-mile radius burns to the ground.”

“I'm still living here,” he said slowly, “because Bastrop is home. It's where we grew up.”

I snorted. “Who wants to live in a backwater town like that? Barely any bars, nothing to do. And the selection of women, I'm sure, leaves plenty to be desired. I'd die of boredom.”

I could practically feel Trey seething through the phone. I'd packed up and moved to Waco soon as I graduated high school. Trey had always been the family favorite, so why bother sticking around?

“I didn't call to argue, Max. Our local fire department's running on a skeleton crew this year. Nothing but volunteers, you know. Fire season's about to hit us, and it's gonna hit hard. We could really use an extra pair of hands.”

I sat up in my chair. “What are you saying?”

“Well, I know you bought that RV a while back. You kept talking about going on that road trip. Remember?”

How could I forget? That was the trip Jayce and I were supposed to take together. We were gonna drive to the west coast and have the time of our lives. Apparently, having a wife and kid disqualified him from having fun anymore.

“I thought maybe if you had some free time, you could come down for a couple weeks and help us out.”

“Help what? Put out wildfires? I got no experience with that kind of thing.”

“They'll teach you. You already have the basics down. Trust me, you're far ahead of most of the other volunteers.”

I laughed at him. “Why do you sound so desperate? This isn't the only reason you want me there, is it?”

He quieted. “No. I'd like to see you. You haven't been back here since...”

“There's a reason for that. You damn well know why, so don't ask.”

“If it's about mom and dad, they moved away. They're living in their home in Cancun now, so you won't have to see them.”

“They moved without telling me?”

“They probably figured you wouldn't care. You haven't called them in years.”

Did I care? No, not really. It just kind of hurt, being left out of the loop like that.

“So what do you say? Come on down, pay your brother a visit and help your hometown put out some fires, too. You won't get paid, but you'll earn a load of good karma.”

I almost said no. I wasn't in the mood for this crap, not right now.

But what about my trip to California? I never went because I never had enough time. Now that I lacked a job, I had all the time in the world.

Bastrop was about two hours south. I could stop in, say hello to Trey, and be on my way. Better that than wasting away here in my living room as I wallowed in self pity over my mistakes.

“I'll think about it.”

“Aw, come on. It'll be like old times. Remember how we used to raft in the Colorado River? Perfect weather for it right now.”

“You bring the beer and then maybe we got a deal.”

“Shiner?”

“Always.”

“You've got it.” His smile was audible. “Just get down here quick, if you can. If the wildfires get bad enough, they might start closing the roads and evacuating folks.”

“Sounds like my dream vacation.”

We hung up, and I sat there for a while, rolling the empty beer bottle from hand to hand. What had I just gotten myself into?

I'd just lost my job, and it wasn't coming back. I needed direction. A sign, something to point me which way I should go next. Not that I was one to believe in such hokey nonsense, but...

Maybe I still had a purpose in life after all.

Chapter 3 - Anna

The chickens weren't happy, and neither was I. No shade, no water, temperature inching up to near 98. Waves of heat rippled off the blacktop as I gazed into the abyss beneath the truck's hood.

Staring at the smoking parts did not, unfortunately, make the vehicle come to life again.

“You old piece of crap.” I kicked the tire. “You want me to send you to the junkyard?”

Threatening it didn't work either.

The hens, safe but annoyed in their cramped crates, clucked their disapproval. One poked its little white head through the slats in the box. She studied me with beady eyes.

“Sorry, girl. This was just supposed to be a short trip. We'll be there soon – I hope.”

Or not. I'd had the bad luck to break down on a side road just west of Highway 95. There was too much traffic for my liking on the main freeway, so clever me, I thought I'd take a detour and come out ahead a little quicker.

Too bad my “detour” was an empty stretch of farm road with miles of fields rolling in every direction. In the distance, I spotted a tractor. No other cars had come through here in the past fifteen minutes.

There was no cell phone service, either. I even climbed up on the truck's roof just to be sure. Calling for help was out of the question.

In my tummy, I thought I felt the baby kick. Could babies kick at three months? No idea. I'd been so stressed out lately, I totally neglected to keep up with that week-by-week growth chart the doctor gave me.

“I don't think anyone's coming, guys.” I patted my belly. “Looks like we'd better start walking.”

Leaving the truck made me anxious, but I couldn't just stand here roasting any longer. The heat made me queasy and, like an idiot, I'd forgotten to bring any water.

I told the chickens I'd be back and headed for the highway. What would I do when I got there? This wasn't like flagging down taxis in New York. I had no clue how to get a driver to stop for me. Hopefully, whoever
did
stop wasn't a serial killer.

The highway wasn't very far, so I reached it in about ten minutes. Too bad there were few cars on it. I stood well to the side of the road, waving my arms around in the air to nab their attention. Nobody even slowed down.

“C'mon, people! If one of you doesn't help me, my birds will be roasted chicken dinner by the time I get back.”

After several minutes of waiting, my bladder started to ache. Being pregnant meant I had to pee a lot more. Of course, there were no restrooms out here – not even a bush to do my business behind.

I pranced from foot to foot and tried to distract myself with other matters. I thought of how many pounds of okra I ought to bring to the market on Saturday. I thought of the barn roof, which had a smattering of holes needing repaired after last month's hail storm.

But no matter what I tried to set my mind to, it kept veering back to one thing: what an asshole Rich was for ditching me after he knocked me up.

“That prick.” I kicked a rock into the dusty road. “That's the last time I get involved with a man for a good, long while.”

Then a big RV sped over the ridge in my direction. Desperate, I considered flinging myself into the road and forcing the driver to stop. Instead, I hollered for help and waved madly. To my shock, the RV began to brake.

“Is it stopping? Oh, thank God.”

There was probably a toilet in there, too. Ahh, my prayers had been answered. I couldn't hold it another minute.

The vehicle stopped a few feet ahead of me. The door slid open, and out stepped a man I hoped I'd never see again.

His eyes met mine, and we recognized each other instantly. Over a decade had passed, but he looked almost exactly the same. The only difference was the startling scars covering the left side of his still-handsome face.

“Anna Southwell.” He whistled. “I remember you. It's been, what – eleven years?”

“Yes, I guess it has.”

Of all the men in the world who drove down this road, why did Max have to be the one who stopped for me? Well, at least he bothered to stop at all, unlike everyone else who breezed on by without a care. A decade was a long time. Maybe he had changed for the better.

Then he looked me up and down. A wide grin spread quick across his face. It made me want to punch him and kiss him at the same time. It was a real shame, wasn't it, that the sexiest guys had to be such assholes.

Not that I should be thinking about sex, anyhow. Not anymore. That was exactly what got me into this very pregnant predicament.

“You look amazing. Time sure has been kind to you.”

His sweet words, said in that southern-boy drawl, made me blush. I certainly did
not
look amazing. I'd just walked several miles in the blistering Texas heat. I was drenched with sweat, hair a frizzy mess, and probably had chicken crap on my clothes somewhere.

“Thanks, I guess.” I eyed him suspiciously. What had happened to his cheek? “You stopped for me, so I suppose that means you're willing to help?”

He grinned wider. “Well, now that depends what kind of help you're talking about.”

Why wouldn't my heart stop hammering so loudly? Back in the day, I'd never been one of his conquests. Sure, he put the moves on me, like he did every girl in school. And I'd heard plenty from them about his, um... generous physical endowment, to put it nicely.

But I didn't want to be a fling nor his flavor of the week. I turned him down. Boy, he didn't like that. Wasn't used to hearing the word no. I had to wonder if he remembered it at all.

“It's my truck.” I pointed down the long side road. “Died on me. I was on the way to a farm up in Taylor to deliver some chickens –”

“Wait.” He held up his hand. “Did you say you had chickens... in your truck?”

“In the bed, yeah. I sell laying hens to local farms. They're out there right now, baking in the sun. I gotta get them moving before it's too late.”

He licked his lips. “Hmm. I've been on the road for hours and haven't eaten lunch yet. Baked chicken sounds delicious. You got any barbecue sauce?”

I growled and shoved him. So much for time changing a man. Now, just like back then, he had a joke at the ready no matter how tactless or inappropriate.

“Aw, lighten up, Anna. You're as serious as you always were.” His hand settled on my lower back. “Get in and I'll see what I can do.”

His touch was firm and sure, like the touch of a man in charge. Suddenly, in spite of myself, I wanted to know what he'd been up to all these years.

Didn't help that whenever he looked at me, I felt those butterflies in my belly, like I was some high-school girl with a silly crush.

I climbed into his camper, half expecting the thing to be full of trash and smell of cigarette smoke. But though the vehicle was clearly kind of old, he'd kept it in good shape. The windows were clean; the vinyl seats looked like they'd just been polished to a shine. I only hoped he kept the bathroom in as decent condition.

“Home sweet home.” He drove us slowly down the road toward my truck. “Temporarily, anyway.”

“You live in this thing?”

“For now, yeah. My brother Trey asked me to come down for a visit. Said y'all might need some help with the wildfires this year, too.”

I actually knew Trey pretty well. My sister, Rachael, was going out with him. He was a sweet, decent guy – nothing like the way I remembered Max being. Didn't talk much about his brother, either. I got the impression they weren't very close.

“He asked
you
to help with the fires?”

“Sure did. I
am
a firefighter, after all, so who better to do the job?” He jokingly flexed his bicep. “What's the matter, don't you think I can handle myself out there?”

So that explained all the muscles and the burn scar on his face. His whole body looked solid as a rock, like a guy who spent his entire life downing protein shakes and lifting weights. I knew plenty of that type from New York, and never much cared for their grand-standing bravado.

There was something different about Max, though. He was a
fireman –
a very sexy, very strong fireman.