The Firefighter's Appeal (Harlequin Superromance) (13 page)

BOOK: The Firefighter's Appeal (Harlequin Superromance)
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“I don’t ride four-wheelers,” she managed to sputter.

Garrett just grinned. “You do now.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Y
OU
CALL
YOUR
father Doug?”

Garrett tapped a finger against the steering wheel to the soft country music coming through the radio. Sunlight shone brightly, the sky was crystal clear and the palette of late-summer colors was brilliant in the flawless day. His uncle Brad was going to be released from the hospital soon, and Garrett had eighteen hours of freedom left before he started a three-day string of on-call time at the firehouse. He’d decided to celebrate by ripping his ATV through mud and over the rocky hills outside town, but when Lily had called, his mind had taken a different direction.

And it was perfect. He’d just been daydreaming the other day about something like this—him and Lily just taking a ride. Seeing where it led.

He felt a lick of fear he didn’t want to acknowledge. He was playing with his own rules here, because he genuinely liked her company. He wanted more of it. If he wasn’t careful, Garrett could see himself falling into something as close to a relationship as he’d ever had. He did a lot of things that might scare the hell out of other people, but for him, letting Lily in was more terrifying than having a flaming building fall down around him. He could resist it a little more. He could.

She rewarded him with dimples curved prettily beside her mouth, her eyes lighting up in a way that made her seem content and naughty at the same time. “You just met him. Does he seem like the warm, fuzzy daddy type to you?”

“That would be a no.”

His own father had been a big man, like Doug Ashden, but he’d had a ready smile that offset any intimidation his size might have otherwise caused. Everything about Doug seemed intimidating, from his buzz-cut silver hair to his biker mustache, huge neck and rock-solid body. How a man like that produced a woman as feminine as Lily was a mystery. Luckily, the only physical thing Doug seemed to have passed on to her was his blue eyes. If Garrett had to speculate, he’d say she got her stubborn, sassy streak from him, too.

“Admit it—you call him Doug because it drives him nuts.”

She laughed. “True.”

It was a soft place to be, with her looking relaxed and beautiful, and he wanted to hold on to this as long as possible. This serenity was an amazing contrast to the confident, smart-mouthed businesswoman, and the one who could be quiet and introspective. Ah, the many sides of Lily Ashden. And he was wickedly attracted to them all.

“What about your siblings? Are they as G.I. Joe as your father?” Garrett caught a glance of her from the corner of his eye as he made a right turn. She looked out the side window, her smile gone.

Out of the blue, he recalled what Sylvia had said—
such a tragedy—
and dread filled him. Maybe he’d just made a fatal mistake, asking her about her family.

“Thankfully, no. I only have a brother, Lincoln, and he’s as kind, levelheaded and easygoing as anyone could wish for. We’re twins.” Her face lit up.

“Really?”

“Yes, but Linc is more easygoing. He’s more like our mother, from what I hear. And I’ve got Doug’s stubborn side.” She picked at her skirt. “My mom... She and my dad split when we were four, so I don’t really remember her.”

He pulled his lower lip between his teeth. Could that be what Sylvia had been talking about? Possibly, but he wasn’t convinced. Divorce was unfortunate and sad, but hardly a tragedy. Given that he’d already dampened her mood, Garrett didn’t want to press by simply asking.

“I lost my dad when I was thirteen. I don’t think it matters what age they leave your life. It still has an impact, you know?” He turned onto a gravel road, kicking up mud from the recent rain. She gave an agreeing nod.

She pulled the elastic off the end of her braid and began working it free. Garrett did a double take as her fingers drew through the strands.
Damn.

“What happened?” she asked. “To your dad?”

He thought about how to answer, because there was so much he could say in response. It had been a long time since he’d spoken about his father to anyone besides his brothers and Brad. Lily had turned her upper body to almost face him completely. She didn’t apologize for asking, and he had the sense that his answer was in some way important to her.

“His department was working a factory fire. My dad and his team were up on the roof, making ventilation holes. The fire got so hot, everyone was called off, but my dad didn’t come down in time. We’ll never know why—if he got hung up or thought someone was still inside. He fell through the roof and there was no way anyone could get inside to get him. It was just too hot.”

Lily’s face paled.

“They couldn’t get him out?” Her voice was weak and distant, as if she wasn’t really speaking to him at all. That nagging familiarity he had off and on when he was around Lily came back full force. It was driving him crazy, this feeling that he should know something but didn’t.

“I saw a melted helmet in a case behind the bar, the first time I was there.”

He couldn’t read her expression, but heaviness seemed to fill the space around them. “That was my dad’s. It was recovered in the rubble. We’re protected from heat, but nothing could withstand heat like that.”

Her hand slid to his knee, and the unexpected touch made him quiver. Lily’s fingers squeezed gently, and then she turned back to the scenery as the road narrowed and led up a hill, then down to a thick grove of trees.

Silence fell between them. Lily’s hand was still on his knee, and he didn’t say anything else. And as much as he wanted to clasp his fingers over hers, he didn’t do that, either, because something had just happened here—something he had no idea how to interpret, but he felt it all the same.

Signs announcing private property ahead dotted the side of the road as they approached the grove, then became swallowed by the trees, until a clearing opened to the right, like a small park. An older camper, a picnic table and a huge wooden swing were scattered throughout the freshly mowed space. Garrett pulled in next to the camper.

“Where are we?” Lily unbuckled her seat belt.

“We call this the Pit because the lake down there is man-made from an old gravel pit. A friend of mine owns it. There’s something here I thought you might like to see.” Garrett opened his door and moved to get out, but Lily crossed her arms and contemplated him, making him pause.

Her voice was raw yet soft. “I’m not sure how to take you.”

“What do you mean?”

Lily cleared her throat, her lips parting as if she was trying to find the right words. “The flowers—no one has ever sent me flowers. And you sent them just because. It’s not my birthday. It’s not—”

“No one has ever sent you flowers?” He frowned. That was hard to believe. “I’m afraid to ask, but what kind of men have you been dating?” He chuckled, but the humor quickly died when her face clouded.

“The leaving kind.” The sadness changed as she smiled softly and shook her head as if to erase what she’d just said. “Just...thanks for the flowers.”

She opened her door and scooted out before he could think of an appropriate reply. Anger made a sharp appearance as he processed her confession. Some loser had sliced her to pieces.
The leaving kind.
He thought he was starting to understand. A fireman, most likely, if he had to guess. No wonder she was gun-shy and not too keen on trying again.

Half an hour later, he had the four-wheeler backed down from the bed of the truck and Lily securely seated behind him. Her thighs, God help him, squeezed the backs of his legs in a death grip. Her right arm looped around his middle as if she were hanging from a cliff. And he hadn’t even started the machine yet.

“I’m going to go real slow, Lil. Want me to chain you to my body?” Her forehead pressed against his back and she shook with a laugh.

“Shut up, Garrett. I’ve never been on one of these things before.” She held on harder and he took that as a sign she was clinging on tightly enough. He started the ATV, and her nails dug into his belly.

He winced and swiveled to look at her. “Okay, there’s only one time I like to be clawed, and this isn’t it.”

She actually threw her head back and laughed, smacking him with her thankfully un-clawed-from-his-gut hand. “You’re terrible.”

He smoothed his fingers over her cheek. Their eyes met. Her lips parted just a bit, making him lean in. A replay of their kiss against his truck last night made his heart skip a beat. He pulled back and turned to the handlebars. Kissing her wasn’t going to keep him from getting involved any further. He’d brought her here to see the Pit, that was all.

“Ready? Now hang on,
gently.

Garrett couldn’t remember the last time he’d driven his ATV at such a geriatric pace, but the way Lily’s body relaxed against him made it worth it. They went slowly down a trail that led away from the camper and through a young copse of trees. The roar of the machine made conversation difficult, so he just enjoyed the scenery and the feel of Lily’s hand pressed flat against his ribs.

Usually beating the hell out of the four-wheeler through the mud or taking it full tilt over rocks and hills was his way of blowing off steam. The soft mounds of Lily’s breasts pressed against his back and the comfortable feeling of her being close made this a pretty good second choice.

He turned his head to look over at her. “Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

He made a
tsk-tsk
sound. “Just do it.” Garrett checked over his shoulder twice to make sure she was obeying, both times drawing a giggle from her. He veered off to the left and parked the ATV, swiveling to place a hand over her eyes as he slid down.

“Come on down. I’ve got you.” He steadied Lily as she slid down, leading her to the mouth of a new trail. He glanced up, his heart swelling as the sun beat through the tree canopy in just the perfect amount of light.

“Welcome to Wonderland.”

He removed his hand, watching her face as she blinked to clear her vision. Her mouth morphed from a surprised smile to a serious, disbelieving line and then back to a curve of wonderment. The little dimples in her cheeks deepened as loose strands of hair waved around her face in the breeze.

Garrett didn’t need to look down the trail. He’d seen it all many times, but watching Lily see it for the first time was like unwrapping the most anticipated gift he’d ever wished for. He stepped closer. Touched his lips to the warmth of her cheek. When Lily turned to look at him, the impact of her eyes robbed him of his breath. So this was what it felt like to be rendered breathless by a woman.

He didn’t want to ever breathe again.

She took several big steps forward, made a half turn to take in both sides of the trail, then turned completely. Her hand made a sweeping arc in the air.

“This.” She turned around again, looking up. Looking down. Looking at him as he sucked in a deep breath. “This is incredible!”

And then she was gone, walking through the maze of metal art that hung from the trees and lined the edges of the trail.

Birds created from metal pieces and found objects sat perched on rods driven into the ground. Gazing balls cradled in hands of mosaic glass and metal pedestals glistened in the sunlight as they lined the path. Above their heads, wind chimes of all descriptions clanked and tinkled and sang on the breeze. Lily inspected each item, her fingers trailing, touching, cupping, her face expressing every nuance of joy and appreciation.

They came to the opening of the trail, where a long wind chime crafted from antique skeleton keys and silver utensils waved in greeting. Lily fingered the keys, and the brilliant smile she gave him took Garrett’s breath away.

“Who did all this?”

Her joy was filling him up, warming his blood, giving him a syrupy sensation he’d never experienced before. He peered into a gazing ball held in a metalwork dragon’s mouth just to try to get his head together.

“Remember that artist I mentioned, Bodie? He’s my friend Mikey’s brother. Came back from Iraq three years ago with a blast injury to his head.” Lily grimaced. “It was a miracle that he survived at all. But something happened to him after the doctors patched him back up. He...well, he pretty much has the mentality of a twelve-year-old and he never sleeps. But this...this is all from him.”

Garrett pointed up, drawing her gaze to an intricate red, white and blue eagle that sat in the tree branches above. “He started making things out of tin cans. He’d be up all night, making and tinkering. So Mikey and their sister, April, started getting him scrap metal—let him use the welder under supervision. Pretty soon, he was off and running on his own.”

She shook her head. “I definitely think we could put a few pieces in the Nashville store. Lincoln will love it.”

“You mentioned you were going to Nashville.”

“Yeah, soon. I could take a couple pieces with me, if that’s okay with Bodie and his family—”

“Are you coming back?”

She turned to him, her fingers trailing over a gazing ball before dropping away. “Temporarily, I think. I’m going now to help Lincoln with an open house in the store, and after that, I’ll likely move there.” She turned back to looking at the art. “Time for a change, you know?”

Garrett could understand that. The need for a change and a purpose had brought him from Hawaii to Kansas, and while he missed the Hawaiian weather, he wasn’t unhappy with his choice. But relating to her desire to change her life didn’t ease the tension in his gut. Lily moved on down the path back the way they’d come.

“There’s not much left for me in Danbury. Not since...” Her voice trailed away. Garrett followed behind her, the sway of her hips drawing him along like a puppy on a leash.

“Since?” It was his turn to dig. She pulled her hair over one shoulder and waved him off.

“You don’t want my sob story.”

Wrong.
He wanted it. He needed it, needed to know what made Lily Ashden tick. Garrett grabbed her hand and gently spun her around.

“I do.” He caught her gaze. “Besides, I told you mine. Fair is fair.” Her hand clasped around his wrist, her fingers imprinting heat into his skin. She wasn’t going to get out of it; he’d press if he had to.

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