Flirting With Disaster (28 page)

As soon as they stopped, he knew he’d done the right thing in coming. He jumped out and raced toward his lieutenant, noting which men were on the hose and which were scrambling to extract the passenger from the overturned truck. Highway patrol worked to get the closest cars turned around and out of danger, though there was no help for the car whose hood was crushed beneath the back end of the tanker. But for a hundred yards on either side of the truck, the road was cleared of everyone except fire personnel.

“Car driver and passenger are out,” his lieutenant said quickly. Jake noted the open ambulance doors and the stunned face of the woman inside it. “A little banged up, but nothing bad so far. The driver of the truck is out and fine, but his passenger is wedged inside and unresponsive.”

“Foam truck?”

“En route.”

Jake’s eyes flew over the scene again, noting the gas leaking onto the roadway, the flames dancing off it, the hose keeping water between the flames and the body of the tanker and, most important, his men working inside the cab of the truck, trying to stabilize the passenger before pulling her out through the broken windshield.

He registered that the firefighter deepest inside the truck was Kevin. And in that moment, Jake saw the fuel that sneaked past the column of directed water and started working its way toward the cab. Flames licked over it, as if it were crouching low and stalking its prey.

“Get her out!” Jake shouted, as he broke from the huddle and rushed toward the cab. “Everyone clear
now
.”

Kevin glanced up, met Jake’s eyes and gave a quick nod, before abandoning his efforts to stabilize her and easing her free of the wreckage. If there weren’t the threat of an explosion, the woman would have been carefully loaded onto a spine board. But when faced with roasting alive, they’d have to risk loss of limb or paralysis. The cervical collar Kevin had already put in place would have to do.

The rescue efforts sped up now as the men outside wedged a spreader between the pavement and the overturned truck’s door. As Jake nearly dived through the open windshield to help, he saw the reason for the holdup. Her leg was pinned under debris.

“Hurry,” Jake said simply, and Kevin nodded before throwing all his weight against a crowbar.

Jake pulled back out to eye that rogue stream of fuel. “McCurdy!” he called to the closest guy working the hose, then pointed. McCurdy set his mouth and cut the spray for a moment before aiming it closer to the truck. Jake knew the calculations going through the man’s head. He didn’t want to wet the cab yet, not while they were trying to free someone. And he didn’t want to push the fuel closer to the truck.

Jake ducked back in to see the progress inside. The spreader was working, creating a space, but the woman’s twisted leg was caught just below the knee.

“Almost there,” Kevin said calmly.

“Kev. We’re in trouble.”

“Then you should back up. I’ve got this.”

“Captain!” McCurdy shouted from outside.

“We’re about to get wet,” Jake said. “She might have to lose the leg.”

Kevin shook his head. “Not yet, Pops.” The calm in his voice told Jake that helping him get the woman out was the only option at this point, so Jake just cursed and eased closer.

“Come on, then, dammit.” The smell of fuel filled the cab as he grabbed the crowbar and heaved, while Kevin worked on the woman’s leg.

“Cap!” McCurdy shouted, then, “Heads up!” Water suddenly pounded the back of the cab, the sound exploding around them as spray began to rain down.

“You about ready now, Kevin?” Jake shouted over the noise.

“Just about.”

Jake gave one last shove on the bar, and then Kevin said, “There,” and started easing the woman’s knee up. Her foot caught again.

Despite the storm of water raining over them, gas fumes stung his nose and Jake said, “Force it,” just as a whoosh rolled over the back of the truck. Heat touched his calf as he and Kevin got their hands under the woman’s arms and pushed her out the windshield. Other hands grabbed her as Kevin tried to ease her foot from the mangled metal, but it still caught sickeningly as they forced her free. Blood pumped from her ankle as Jake grabbed the stiff arm of Kevin’s coat and hauled him toward the windshield, as well. “Go, dammit!”

“Yeah, yeah.” As soon as the woman was pulled free, Kevin vaulted out, then reached back and half dragged Jake out, too. The stench of melting upholstery swelled around them until they got to their feet and hauled ass for the waiting line of emergency vehicles. The woman was already on a stretcher and being slipped into an ambulance. More hoses moved in.

“You’re smoking, Pops.”

“No shit,” Jake said, reaching down to brush at the thick canvas of his work pants.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Kevin ignored that and called a paramedic over before shoving Jake down onto the bumper of a truck. “I’m fine,” Jake said again, but he gave in and rolled up the cuff of his pants before one of those bastards got itchy and cut it off. “Nothing big.”

And it wasn’t. A second-degree burn covering a few inches of leg. “Shit,” he said, pretending it was only disappointment that his pants were charred and not a bark of pain as the paramedic cleaned the burn.

“You should be more careful,” Kevin said. “I don’t have a scratch.”

“Jesus.” Jake had to bite back a laugh. He should probably discipline Kevin. Cite him for disobeying orders, but damn if that wasn’t what this job was about sometimes. And it was Jake’s own fault for jumping into a flaming truck with zero protective gear. He was the one who deserved to be written up.

While the paramedic wrapped his leg, Jake watched as his men kept the flames down and waited for foam.

He let his head fall back against the truck and sighed. He’d have to get his affection for Kevin under control. Kevin had the right to do his job the same way any of the other firefighters did. Jake would have to review his own reactions tonight and decide if he’d have had the same responses to any of his other men.

On the other hand...Kevin was safe and so was Annabelle’s heart. So everything had turned out fine.

Kevin slapped his shoulder. “Thanks, Pops. You deserve a beer. In fact, I’ll buy you one.”

“No, thanks,” Jake said immediately, but he didn’t feel quite the same conviction he had earlier. A beer sounded damn good now. Adrenaline still rushed through his veins and the idea of seeing Lauren in her little black dress and heels, that full mouth wide as she laughed, her eyes bright with happiness... Yeah. Damn. He’d love to see that.

An hour later, all the reports filed, Jake headed home again. His adrenaline rush had long since faded, but that image of Lauren was stuck in his brain. He normally felt tired after that kind of energy subsided, but this time he felt a little angry.

Why shouldn’t he go out? Why shouldn’t he see Lauren that way? She was a beautiful woman, and he was alive, dammit.

He shook that thought off, refusing to examine it. It felt too large inside him, too significant. But that low anger remained, even as he let himself into the house and hit the shower. Even as he toweled off and dried his hair. Annabelle was out. She was probably at Kevin’s apartment, waiting for him to come home so they could spend the evening together.

Jake walked out of the bathroom and stopped to stare at his bed. The same bed he’d slept in for over twenty years. It needed a new mattress. Badly. Ruth had been trying to talk him into getting a new one for years. Then she’d gotten sick. Then she’d been gone. He wouldn’t have dreamed of replacing it after that.

But tonight he didn’t want to get in it. He stared at the bed, at the oak posters and unmade sheets and warm comforter and crumpled pillows, and told himself to do what he always did. Make a microwave meal. Have a cold beer. Go to sleep and try not to dream and start again tomorrow.

But the sun was barely setting and the world still moved outside. The world still
moved
. It always did.

No matter who died or how lives were changed, life moved on. For the first time, Jake honestly wanted to move on, too.

CHAPTER THREE

L
AUREN
WAS
HAVING
a great time. It didn’t hurt that she was slightly tipsy. It also didn’t hurt that Sophie was offering hilarious commentary about the available mating options.

Lauren was losing her nervous edge and starting to get into it. “Oh, he’s pretty,” she said, poking Sophie’s shoulder to draw her attention. “That guy by the jukebox.”

Sophie’s eyes slid across the room. “He’s pretty, all right. So pretty he’s terrible in bed.”

“You’ve slept with him?”

“No, I can just tell.”

“What?”

Sophie nodded in the face of Lauren’s incredulity. “Look at that smile. Those dimples. See how cute he thinks he looks. He was the cutest guy in his high school, and he never had to do anything to get laid except show up and wait. I promise you he knows nothing about cunnilingus.”

Shocked, Lauren looked him up and down. The pretty boy noticed and shot her a wink. Oh, God, Sophie was right.

Sophie nodded sagely. “What you need is someone who’s just coming into his prime. Maybe he was skinny and nerdy in high school, but now he’s twenty-five and really into river rafting and his muscles have filled out. He’s spent a lot of time thinking about—”

“No.” Lauren cut her off. “Twenty-five? I can’t do that, Sophie. No way. Has a twenty-five-year-old even seen stretch marks? Or breasts that have actually fulfilled their function? No, this is not happening.”

“They’re breasts, Lauren! Men like them. All of them. Keep the lights low and let him play with them. Instant happiness.”

Lauren forgot her fears and laughed so hard she snorted. “I can’t believe the words that come out of that cute little face.”

“This little face buys me a lot of leeway. Nobody suspects a thing.”

A rumbling voice cut off Lauren’s laugh. “Hello, ladies.”

Lauren gulped and her gaze rose to the man at her side. And it kept rising.

Sophie offered a cheerful hello, but Lauren couldn’t do more than stare. Jesus, he was big. And so young. Probably only a few years older than Lauren’s own son. Sweat prickled her brow at the thought.

She couldn’t do this.

She tried to calm herself down. She wasn’t actually
doing
anything. It was a bar. No different from a party, really, and if she were introduced to this young man at a party, she’d be perfectly capable of having a conversation. A conversation with...

“I’m sorry,” Lauren croaked, then cleared her throat. “What did you say your name was?”

He smiled, and he looked so young in that moment that Lauren relaxed. She wasn’t taking this boy home. “I’m Gerard,” he said.

Which was when she noticed his French accent.

Eyes widening in horror, she looked toward Sophie, who offered a wide grin and nodded.

Lauren shook her head and sprang to her feet, nearly knocking over the bar stool. “A pleasure to meet you. Could you excuse me for a moment, Gerard?”

She felt Sophie’s hand brush her arm, but Lauren hurried toward the bathroom, clutching her purse so tightly that she could barely feel her fingers when she reached for the door and pushed into the quiet. Letting the door close behind her, she leaned against it and closed her eyes, fully aware that she was now hiding in a saloon bathroom. She wasn’t even ashamed. She needed a moment. Needed to catch her breath.

She’d been dating for seven years now, but she knew she’d never really been invested in it. She’d never been hopeful. A requisite one man every year—or two—just to tell herself she was staying in the game. Three dates if he wasn’t awful, then a decision about whether she’d sleep with him or not, calculated on mathematics she couldn’t fully explain to herself.

But this felt different. Now she
wanted
things. She was actually tempted by that too-young man even when she didn’t want to be. Her body was trying to override her mind. Her dating choices had never been based on this kind of lust and need. Never on this urge to have a man inside her, to be filled and used and satisfied.

She opened her eyes and looked in the mirror above the sink. There was nothing wrong with it, really. It was just so new that it scared her. The sharp lust that overtook her at strange hours. The fantasies she spun as she touched herself, of animal sex, raw fucking, using a man’s body to get what she wanted.

And in her fantasies, she was never self-conscious or doubtful. She was turned on and hungry and taking what she needed.

She stared into her own eyes, the same eyes she’d always had, even if they had a few more wrinkles around them. She’d earned those lines. She shouldn’t be so worried about them or any of the rest of her parts.

Maybe what she needed was a too-young Frenchman. Maybe not. But what she didn’t need to feel was too old to be worthy of mutual pleasure. Even if she needed to turn the lights off, that was fine. It could be all scents and sounds and touch and taste.

Yes. Her body thrummed to life at the thought of being in the pitch dark, a hot body over hers, her hands clutching a back that was smooth and slick with sweat. Her heart sped at the thought, and then it multiplied, splitting into smaller hearts that lodged in her throat and wrists and between her legs.

Lauren got out her lipstick and stroked more bright color over her mouth. Then she set her shoulders and smiled. She might not do it tonight, and she might not do it with that French boy, but she was going to get laid, and soon, because she was forty-three years old and she damn well needed it.

Chin high, Lauren stepped out of the bathroom and moved toward the table with a new swing in her step. She didn’t have anything to worry about. She knew what she wanted.

The big French guy had leaned close to Sophie, but he glanced up to smile at Lauren as she worked her way across the room. He wasn’t going to leave this to chance. He’d flirt with both of them, apparently, and hope one of them took the bait. Or both of them.

Laughing to herself at the thought, Lauren let her eyes slide away from him. He was cute, but not so cute he shouldn’t know that she was keeping her options open. She meant to give the room another quick survey, but her eyes never made it past the bar. There, tucking his wallet away as he reached for a glass of beer, was Jake. His eyes were on Lauren. His head tipped toward her and one eyebrow rose in greeting.

Lauren would’ve skidded to a stop, but she bumped into a chair and her confident walk came to an abrupt end. Holy shit. He’d actually shown up.

She looked at her table again, not sure what to do. Somehow, the idea of introducing Jake to Monsieur Gerard made her skin tighten with horror, but she was just as horrified at the idea of ignoring Jake to flirt with a boy nearly young enough to be her kid.

Her indecision decided it for her. Jake was already halfway across the bar and headed straight for her. She felt strangely relieved and smiled more genuinely.

“Having a good time?” he asked.

Nodding, she couldn’t resist a quick scan of his body. “You look different,” she said, surprised by his transformation. She hadn’t seen him dressed so informally in a long time, aside from his near-naked running outfit. Tonight he wore dark jeans and a green button-down shirt. She could just see the hollow of his throat and a few enticing curls of chest hair not covered by fabric.

“So do you,” he answered.

She blushed then, reminded that her breasts were pushed up and half exposed, but the blush felt good, tightening her nipples and making her skin warm.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.

Her pulse quickened with alarm at the question. It was just so...not familiar. Not harmless.
Can I buy you a drink?
was something a man said to a woman when he wanted to get to know her better. More intimately. She darted another look at her table and saw that Gerard was now speaking very close to Sophie’s ear, and Sophie’s smile seemed to approve. Good. Let those two kids have fun.

“Yes,” Lauren finally answered. “I’d love a drink. Whiskey on the rocks, please.” Jake smiled as if he approved.

“Give me a minute. I’ll bring it to the table.”

“No!”

His eyes darted over to Gerard.

Lauren made herself smile. “Let’s sit at the bar.”

He nodded, then led the way and signaled the bartender with a subtle wave, like a man who’d been ordering drinks for twenty-five years. Lauren liked that. She liked watching his hands as he drew his wallet from his jeans and slid out a few bills. His hands were wide and scarred and dark from years in the sun. She wondered how he touched a woman in bed. If he was careful or rough.

Careful, she decided, remembering Ruth’s petite frame and kind eyes.

When Jake handed over the drink, she took it gratefully and tossed half of it back, feeling almost defiant. Let him see that she wasn’t delicate or subtle. Better that he know. Not that he was likely to have any doubts. Most of his interactions with her in the past few years had been listening to her bitch about his men, after all.

They took the last pair of stools and settled in, both of them facing the bar instead of each other.

“It’s a young crowd tonight,” Jake said.

Her chuckle was more of a gasp. “I know.”

“I mean, I haven’t been here in years. Is it always a young crowd?”

When she didn’t answer, she felt him turn slightly toward her, waiting. Was he wondering if that was her thing? If that was why she’d come here? “I think so,” she finally said, meaning that she didn’t know, either, but it came out a little breathless, as if she knew and didn’t want to admit it. “I mean, it’s my first time here in a long time, too.”

Clutching her drink, she glanced at him, and Jake’s serious mouth curved into a smile. He leaned a little closer, surprising her pulse into a gallop. “It’s weird, isn’t it?”

“The saloon?”

He shrugged. “Everything.”

God. Yes. It was weird. All of it. Lauren smiled back at him. Then she found herself laughing. Hard. She cradled her forehead in her hand. Her fingers were cold from the drink, and they felt so good against her hot face. “God, yes, Jake. It’s so weird.”

“These girls are all my daughter’s age. Or younger.”

“I was just thinking that. About the boys, though. How am I supposed to flirt with them? They’re babies.”

“Well, I’m glad I rescued you, then. I wouldn’t want you flirting with little boys.”

“They’re not all so little,” she said without thinking, then blinked down at her drink in horror.

But Jake just laughed and picked up his beer for a sip. “Listen. Don’t let me cramp your style. A cold beer sounded good, but I’ll get out of your way if you want.”

Did she want that? She stole another look toward the table, but Sophie and Gerard had been joined by another, even younger couple. Even though Sophie was thirty, Lauren felt as if she should hand them all condoms and pamphlets about sex education.

She turned back to find Jake watching her carefully, the lines around his eyes slightly tight. “No,” she finally said. “This is nice.”

He smiled again, and she noticed he had dimples, just like that pretty young boy by the jukebox. Only Jake’s dimples were camouflaged by the shadow of day-old stubble that glinted silver and black against his skin. He wasn’t smooth and unlined. He was rough and prickly and so damn handsome it made her heart hurt for a few brief beats.

“Another?” he asked, gesturing toward her drink.

“I probably shouldn’t,” she said, but she tossed back the last sip and gestured for another glass.

Jake laughed, and when his arm brushed hers, she didn’t move away. A few minutes later, as he slipped his wallet into his front pocket, his fingers touched the bare thigh she’d pressed close to his hip, and he didn’t move away, either.