12-Alarm Cowboys (58 page)

The Blackwoods had become the backbone of the town, running at least half the businesses and two of the ranches around Tanger, including the Triple B, where Dax lived and worked. At least he did when he wasn’t avoiding Hannah.

“Hm.” She took a few more pictures, humming and mumbling to herself. He gave her his back, unwilling to look at her any longer. The sight of Sophie made him want to tear something to shreds. Or run like a crazy fucker around the town screaming his head off.

Maybe he was having a nightmare and would wake up in a few minutes. And maybe the sky was green.

“How long is this going to take?”

“Dax, your claim was over half a million dollars. It’s protocol to investigate a suspicious fire, especially one for such a large sum of money.” Her camera clicked a few more times.

“The equipment inside was where the money was. My sister has all the receipts and serial numbers.” He reached into his pocket for his phone. “I’ll give her a call and she can come down and meet with you.”

“No.”

“No?” He paused with his thumb over the speed dial for Hannah, then turned to look at Sophie again.

“No. I don’t need that information. Not yet anyway. I need to talk to the fire chief.” She pointed at him. “You weren’t the chief before, but you are now, correct?”

He narrowed his gaze. “I am. I worked my ass off for it. We might be a rural volunteer fire department, but we take our job seriously.”

“You’re defensive.”

“You’re pissing me off.”

“Same old Dax.”

“Same old Sophie.”

She shook her head. “I’ve got measurements to take, more photographs and information to record. I can meet you at the firehouse in a couple hours if you find my company offensive. That will give you time to get the receipts and serial numbers.”

An escape beckoned. A temporary one, but an escape nonetheless.

“Fine. Don’t expect supper though. We only feed our friends.” He winced at the rancor and obnoxiousness that spewed from his mouth. Would he ever get over Sophie?

Dax turned and walked to his truck with as much dignity as he could muster. Foolish, stupid idiot.

Sophie swallowed back
the ancient pain that threatened. Dax always knew what buttons to push to hurt her the worst. He was so angry when he’d seen she was the investigator. What had she expected? After five years, she had hoped they could be civil.

Apparently not.

He’d hardly changed but he was different. Thick light brown, wavy hair, blue eyes, shoulders broader, chest more muscular. She swore he still wore the same black cowboy hat he’d had for ten years. His jeans hugged his well-formed thighs and ass. The man was a walking orgasm. Too bad he was also an asshole.

Sophie had built herself into a different person and she couldn’t allow herself to slip back into the shadow of who she used to be.

She shook off the dark cloud that hung over her shoulder and took a deep breath. She was here to do her job, not fall into a pit of despair. Especially over Dax Blackwood. He’d done his level best to change her into the woman he wanted her to be.

Although she’d grown up here, Sophie had left Tanger so she could become the woman
she
wanted to be. Now she was back, against her better judgment. Her boss had insisted she be the one to investigate, given her history with the town and her knowledge of the owner.

There were few times in her life Sophie said no. This was one of them, yet she’d still ended up taking the job. Her desperate boss had offered her an extra week’s vacation starting when she was done with this investigation.

As she walked around the perimeter of the building, memories assailed her. She’d spent many hours at the restaurant, eating, laughing and canoodling. This place was all about her and Dax as much as the pond out on the Triple B. If they weren’t at one location, they were at the other.

She pinched herself to yank her back from the reminiscing that threatened to derail her for the rest of the day. It was after three in the afternoon. If she hustled, she might finish by six or seven and make it home by midnight.

Sophie pushed aside all distractions and focused on what she did best. Investigating. She’d discovered her attention to detail dovetailed on her photographic and artistic skills. Becoming an insurance investigator brought a mixture of mystery, tragedy, sometimes a smidge of danger, and a new adventure with each and every assignment.

Now she’d found the remains of one of her favorite places in the world. Cindy’s was a landmark and now was an ashy pit of nothing. Sophie retrieved her hard hat from her car and got to work.

Three hours later, sweat ran down under her arms, under her boobs and around her waist, soaking unattractively into her dark blue shirt. She disliked the uniform she had to wear while on site investigating. The jeans were more like the fiery gates of hell and chafed her skin where she perspired, which was almost everywhere. She trudged toward her car, glancing down at her boots and expecting to see puffs of steam with each step.

What she wouldn’t give to be at the Triple B pond right now, diving into that cool, deep water. She grimaced at the foolishness of the wish. Distancing herself from the Blackwoods was her goal, not skinny-dipping with the man who’d broken her heart.

Sophie contemplated heading back to Houston without seeing Dax again. For for half a second. Then her duty as an investigator poked its nose into her pity party and reminded her she had an obligation to her employer. The serial numbers and receipts were an important part of the claim. Kitchen equipment could be cheap or pricy. Unless they had proof of how much was lost, the insurance company wouldn’t make payment on the claim.

Then she’d have to deal with Dax a lot more. Nope, nope, nope. Sophie threw her hat in the back and climbed in the front. It was at least a thousand degrees in that car, but it had blessedly cool air conditioning. She smiled as she turned the key and it clicked.

Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

No longer smiling, she turned the key again and again.

Click. Click.

“Goddamn it!” She slammed her hands into the steering wheel, inadvertently hitting the horn. She jumped and banged the damn wheel again. It was obvious she wasn’t going anywhere in the car.

Since it was after five, most all the shops downtown were closed. It was still a small town after all. The way she figured it, she had two choices. Option one was to find a tow truck and wait in the heat. Option two was to call Dax.

Well, hell.

‡

D
ax was washing
the pumper truck when his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He tossed the sponge in the bucket beside him and pulled out the phone.

His hands were wet enough it slipped and plopped right into the bucket of water.

“Damn it!” He fished it out quick and wiped it on his already-soaked jeans. The phone made a strangled sound as it rang again. He pushed the answer button. “Hello?”

Static and a few snippets of a female voice crackled through.

“Hannah, that you?”

“Soph—stuck—fire—”

The phone went dead.

His heart picked up speed. He tried to call back but the screen on his phone flashed and then it shut itself off. That had been definitely Sophie and she sounded distressed.

Dax didn’t hesitate. He ran back into the fire station. Two other firefighters were there playing cards. He grabbed his keys from the hook on the wall.

“Gotta go. Finish the pumper, wouldja?” He didn’t wait for a response although he heard them curse at him. They took turns washing the pumper and it was his job that week. If Sophie called him for help, that was serious. She had been radio silent for five years and wouldn’t contact him unless it was an emergency.

He yanked open his truck door and tore out of the parking lot, leaving behind more rubber than he’d done in years. A few horns greeted his quick turn onto the main road. His cousin Kyle, a deputy sheriff, sat at the corner in his squad car. He flipped on his lights and popped the siren for a split second. More than likely Dax would hear all about the ticket he didn’t get the next time he saw Kyle.

Screw it. He raced back toward the other end of town. The traffic had started to pick up a little considering it was after five in the afternoon. Not that there was much of a rush hour in Tanger, but there was something like it. Enough to slow him down when he was in a hurry.

He honked and swerved around cars as he could. A few middle fingers and one shrieking old lady greeted him. He racked up a great deal of infractions that he would hear about for the next twenty years or so. One of the disadvantages to living in a small town was that everyone knew everyone else’s business.

Given that he was a Blackwood, people had expectations he had failed to live up to. He was popular in high school but he didn’t go to college, no matter how smart he was or wasn’t. Instead he chose to take over the family ranch and make his living with his hands. People judge, as they often do, but he didn’t care. He made the choice that was the right one in his heart and he’d never regretted it.

As he tore around the corner half a mile from the restaurant, the back end of the truck fishtailed but he corrected the slide. He spotted the little blue car Sophie had driven up in still sitting in the same spot.

Dax didn’t see her anywhere. He jumped out of the truck as soon as he slammed it into Park. His hat flew off and landed in the dirt beside the front tire.

“Sophie?” He jogged around the truck to find the car empty. His breath huffed in and out to accompany his racing heart. Where the hell was she?

He continued his search around the smoldering wreckage of the restaurant. Her small boot prints were around the perimeter, but he saw none in the middle where things were still dangerous. The second floor hadn’t collapsed completely.

He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Sophie!”

“Why are you shouting?”

Her voice made him jump a foot in the air. “Son of a bitch!” He blinked at the sight of her, unsure if he was relieved or annoyed. Definitely not aroused. She was sweaty, sooty and her beautiful hair lay in limp lumps.

“What happened to you? You called me but my phone cut out. You said it was an emergency and a fire.” He sounded breathless and ridiculous. What the hell was wrong with him?

She frowned. “I said my car wouldn’t start. It wasn’t an emergency and I was still at the site of the fire. I was hoping for a ride to the fire station so I didn’t have to walk.”

Well, didn’t he feel like an idiot.

He also looked like an idiot.

“Jesus, I thought you were in trouble.”

She gestured to her car. “Technically I am in trouble. Or at least my car is.”

“Where were you when I got here?” His voice was sharper than he intended.

“Hiding in the shade of the tree hoping you’d show up so I wouldn’t have to stay in Tanger tonight. I need those receipts and serial numbers to finish my report.”

Her words were like a slap. She didn’t want him. She wanted his truck and to escape from his presence before the clock struck midnight. That was a wake-up call he couldn’t ignore. Why had he rushed to her? He didn’t want to know the answer. It was a mistake. That was obvious.

He huffed out a breath. “Then get in the truck and let’s go.” He scooped up his hat and pushed it onto his head so hard he scratched his ears.

She followed him without a word and soon they were buckling their seatbelts. When he started the truck, she put her hand in front of the air vent.

“There’s no A/C, princess.” He was pleased to see her snatch her hand back. “That’s why the windows are down.”

“I can’t believe you’re still driving this piece of shit.” She adjusted the messenger bag she’d put on the seat beside her.

“Language, Miss Evans. Ladies don’t cuss.”

“Women cuss. I’d much rather be a woman than a lady.” She closed her eyes as the air rushed in through the windows. Her hair flew like streamers toward him, not long enough to reach him but enough to distract him.

He didn’t like feeling out of control. Being the fire chief meant he was in charge. Owning a ranch also meant he was in charge. Being investigated by an insurance company, by his ex-girlfriend no less, made him uncomfortable because he had no control. Sophie was in charge.

He didn’t like that. Not even a little.

She pulled out a fancy phone from her bag and started dialing. “I’m going to attempt to arrange for a tow truck to meet me in an hour. After I finish cataloging your paperwork, can you give me a ride back to my car?”

He wanted to say no. He wanted to say no so badly it danced on his tongue like a dark chocolate truffle.

“Fine but I want gas money,” was what came out of his mouth.

She threw up her free hand and snorted. “Of course you do.”

During her conversation with the tow truck driver, he could only hear her side of it. Judging by her expression, it wasn’t going well. He shouldn’t feel satisfied to hear her being annoyed with someone else.

He was anyway.

“You can’t be serious. What happens if someone needs a tow after the sun sets?” She tapped her hand on her knee in a quick staccato. “They call Kyle Blackwood to let him know they’ve abandoned their car. That’s efficient. Then what do they do?”