Her Christmas SEAL (When SEALs Come Home Book 7) (8 page)

She glared up at me. “What do you think we have going on here?”

I kinda thought my words said it all.
Make love
, because that’s where my head—and my heart—had been at. Her naked breasts pressed up against my chest made it kinda hard to formulate a better answer, but I tried. I ignored the sweet, hot heat of her pussy against my leg too.

“A second chance,” I answered promptly. No point in giving her the truth.

“At what?”

Christ. She was more suspicious than the IRS. “At us,” I said, taking a chance and brushing a kiss over her mouth. “I should have fought for you when you chose Mr. Dick. Shoulda told you then that I wanted a shot.”

She snorted. “Right. You’ve never had a relationship in your life. One night, Jacks. That’s what you do. Meet a girl, romance her, sleep with her—and then move on from her.”

Nothing like all my sins coming home to roost. I was fucked either way, and not in a good way. She wasn’t wrong—she just wasn’t seeing things the way I did. Holly was different from those other women. She made me want to be different too.

“Did I say I wanted us to be a one-night stand?”

She tugged on her hands. Since I outweighed her by almost a hundred pounds, she got precisely nowhere, although she didn’t answer me either.

“Man falls out of the sky on your feet, and you don’t think you should keep him?” I was happy to let her just use me too—but for the next fifty years or so. Settling for being her five-minute quickie when she had an itch to scratch wasn’t an option.

“I’ve got this,” she said, and I was sure she did. I’d have to get her a T-shirt with those words blazoned across her boobs. Holly was stunningly capable even when life dealt her a crap hand. Problem was, I wanted to help because
I
had it bad for her.

“You need to go,” she repeated. “I have wreaths to make.”

I squinted at the clock. “At two in the morning?”

She shrugged. “Some of us find it harder to keep the electric on than others.”

If she had problems keeping the lights on, it wasn’t just because she lacked cash. She’d powered all of the visible appliances in the room from a single outlet and extension cords snaked across the floor. My inner fireman was appalled. “The fire marshal isn’t gonna like your heating setup.”

She closed her eyes. “Shut up. Go away.”

And then just like that things fell to shit. One minute we were arguing, and the next I smelled smoke. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe Lucky had decided to host a bonfire party at two in the morning.

Or maybe the whole fucking farm was on fire.

“Get dressed,” I snapped, already launching myself off the bed. Grabbing my jeans from the floor, I yanked them on. Not that I had a problem with bare-assing it if there was a fire, but some things were better off protected.

“What the hell, Jacks?” Despite my giving her exactly what she’d asked for—my leaving—she rose up on her knees, and the view was pretty damned spectacular. If my instincts hadn’t been screaming we had a bigger problem than her anti-relationship stance, I’d have been happy to stand there and stare at her. She had gorgeous breasts.

“Clothes,” I ordered, scooping up the bits and pieces I’d peeled off of her earlier. “Anything important, get ready to grab it.”

The upside of Holly’s too-small place was that it took two steps to reach the door. I tested the doorknob. Cool to the touch. That was a good sign. I opened the door, stuck my head out, and it didn’t a genius to spot the problem. The Christmas tree lot was on fire.

“Move. We’ve got a fire.” I dropped down on the bed, grabbed my phone, and called in the fire. What was outside the door didn’t look or smell like something I could deal with on my own with a garden hose. Plus Christmas trees could get downright flammable.

“Who else lives on site?” I dragged on my boots.

“One old man. Two other part-time elves,” she said.

She started yanking on her own clothes, thank God. The smoke scent hung in the air between us now that I’d opened that door. We’d be having a conversation later about her lack of smoke detectors and general fire safety. How long would the fire have raged unchecked outside if I hadn’t been here?

“Tell me where they sleep and what they drive,” I ordered, standing up. If anyone had spent the night elsewhere, I didn’t want to waste time looking for them. “Any pets I should know about?”

“Just Frances,” she said quietly and then listed locations and vehicle makes. Good girl.

“Grab a bag and pack anything important. You’ve got five minutes, and then I’m getting you out of here.” Ordinarily, I’d have gotten her ass straight off the property, but I needed to check on the other residents, so she might as well grab what she could. It didn’t take a genius to see that Holly didn’t have much, and she couldn’t afford to lose it. Since I’d also seen her POS car, and it probably ran at a maximum of twenty miles an hour thanks to its decrepit state, I handed her the keys to my truck.

“Get in and start the engine. Be ready to roll.”

She opened her mouth—probably because Ms. I’ve-Got-It protested anything on principle—but I was already out of there. She followed me outside, and her breath caught audibly. The air was thick with smoke now, the flames licking through the stand of trees less than a quarter mile away. The trees weren’t as dry as they could be, but they were still plenty flammable. Both our eyes went straight to the flaming plastic Santa that I’d bet was the root cause of the problem—that and the extension cord running back into one of the sheds. Which was also on fire.

“The farm is on fire.” Holly sounded dazed now, like maybe things were finally sinking in.

“Get your things,” I reminded her. “I’m gonna go check on the others. Then I’m coming back here, and you’re getting in my truck.”

It would take the local fire department at least ten and possibly twenty minutes to get here. After I found the other residents of the farm, I needed to find a hose. Anything I could do to halt the flames, I’d do it.

“Why?” she asked, which wasn’t a flat-out no, but now wasn’t the time for a fucking conversation. Plus I had no idea what she was asking. Why was the farm on fire? Fuck me if I knew. Why now? See above. Why did life crap on perfectly nice people? Again, no clue.

“Bet those wreaths you bought just appreciated,” she mumbled and I shot her a look.

She was in shock.

Shit.

“Five minutes,” I told her. “You count to three hundred, and you make sure you’re dressed and ready to roll when you hit three hundred, okay? Can you do that for me?”

HOLLY

Jacks sprinted across the yard, bellowing
fire
at the top of his lungs. When he banged on the door of the cabin nearest mine, someone opened the door. Jacks tossed a few words in the guy’s direction, then turned and ran for the main house. Right. Lucky was probably inside there, completely oblivious to his livelihood going up in smoke while he slept.

Okay. Jacks had this handled. Somehow I stumbled back inside my cabin. It sure wasn’t much, but it was mine, and the last thing I wanted was for it to catch on fire. Grabbing my suitcase, I dumped the bulk of my clothes inside and swept up my books. Laptop? Check. My purse went on top of the suitcase.

And… I was still only half-dressed in the clothes Jacks had peeled off me earlier. Confronting a fire in my pajamas wasn’t ideal. I grabbed panties, yoga pants and a tank top. Topped it off with a flannel. My running shoes. You know those dreams where you’re running and running but not getting anywhere except that you also know time is running out and that’s going to bite you on the ass? Yeah. I was living a real-time version and it sucked.

Certain I’d hit my five-minute limit, I stuck my head outside the door. The entire lot was ablaze, the air thick with smoke. Jacks had Lucky outside now, so that was good, although Lucky was bellowing and looking every bit as unhappy as I’d look if that was my farm going up in smoke. Little sparks flew about and landed in front of my cabin, more Fourth of July than Christmas.

Sirens wailed up the road. The fire department had come. The farm was too far outside Strong to have a hydrant, but the fire truck had a portable tank. Not sure what to do, I stood there and stared as the first firefighters swung down. Jacks materialized by my side.

At first, I thought he was just checking in, but then he gestured toward his truck. “Get in, and I’ll get you out of here.”

Not happening. “I’m not losing my car too.”

I’d kind of lost everything in the last year. My marriage, my home, and most of my bank account. So, no I didn’t see the need to lose the car, especially not since I’d just gotten it fixed after it had crapped out and stranded me in Strong.

“Fine,” he growled and held out his hand. “Give me your keys, and I’ll move your car a safe distance.”

And once again? So not happening. “I can drive my own car.”

Jacks just shook his head and pointed to my hands. Fuck. My hands were trembling. So maybe I wasn’t entirely okay, but I could pull it together.

“Then I can stay here.” The fire department had this under control, right? I could wait this out even if the air was thick with smoke and God knows what else. I looked at the tree lot, which was burning like a torch. Then looked at all the little sparks twinkling around us. Okay. So maybe staying would win me the Darwin Award. The stink would be in my hair and my clothes, plus the fire could still spread further. It wasn’t like I’d have a job to rush to in the morning anyhow. I could leave.

“Give me your keys,” Jacks growled, eyeballing the flaming carnage and clearly coming to a different conclusion than I had. “I’ll move your car a safe distance. We’ll compromise—and don’t tell me that
you’ve got this.
”

Nope. I didn’t have this at all. I mutely handed over my keys and went back inside to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. Jacks was back in under ten minutes, reaching down to snag my suitcase and purse.

“Anything else you need from inside?” He asked.

“The cat.” Who wasn’t going to make finding a place easy. I was still voting for my car. Worst case, I could sleep in it. I’d done it before; I could do it again. Still, this wasn’t good. Wasn’t good at all. I settled back in Jacks’s seat and tried to brainstorm a solution. Yeah. I was coming up empty.

Jack grunted something, and I let him herd me along to his truck. I was tired and it was just easier, I told myself. My agreeing had nothing to do with my wanting to spend just a little more time with him. He tossed my stuff in the bed, and then popped the door open for me. While I collapsed on his front seat, he disappeared inside my cabin to retrieve Frances.

“Got a problem,” he said when he came back out a minute later.

“I’m at my max,” I warned him. One more snowflake in my shit storm and I’d either bawl like a baby or start screaming at him.

He opened my door and set the cardboard box on my lap. “Momma cat’s a little busy.”

Oh. God. Sure enough, when I looked down, I was looking at one cat and one kitten. I had a bad feeling that Frances wasn’t stopping at one. The vet had warned me that cats usually took up to an hour between kittens, so she could be just getting started.

Jacks got in and started the engine, guiding the truck carefully past the fire trucks. It looked like Lucky was getting checked out by the EMTs. I’d bet seeing his farm go up in flames had just about given the man a heart attack. Of course, the universe had pretty much pooped on my head too. I stared at the flames as Jacks drove us away.

“It’s like running for the train and watching the doors slam shut in your face, only to discover that the station’s pigeons had used your head for a target.”

A lopsided grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “That happen to you?”

“Once.” Heading for a Motel 6 topped my want list at the moment, but Strong didn’t have one of those. It had a cute little B&B where a single night would eat up next month’s paycheck. And since I didn’t possess a working credit card at the moment, I’d have to
wait
until next month anyhow before I could step through the door. Motel 6 was fifty miles down the road, which made for a hell of a long walk.

I tapped my fingers on the side of Frances’s box. Maybe I could get arrested. Maybe the sheriff would take pity on me and let me spend the night at the jail. Frances meeped, and a second kitten made its bedraggled appearance. Or not. The jail probably had an anti-pet policy.

“Stop worrying,” Jacks said, his voice rough. “Let me get this.”

“Can you take me to Motel 6?” I hated asking, but I was out of options. Limited cash meant limited choices.

He didn’t take his eyes off the road. “You could let me take care of it.”

“I’ve—”

“Got this,” he finished for me. “You’ve made that clear.”

God. Delayed reaction from the fire swept over me. We’d had sex. We’d fought. Then the whole place had gone up in flames—or it felt like it—and I strongly suspected I wasn’t going to have a job tomorrow. I was homeless, and even if it was almost Christmas, I had zero desire to reenact the Christmas story and sleep in a barn. Leaning my head against the cool glass of the window, I tried to come up with a plan that didn’t involve camping in my car. I’d done it before, right after I’d broken down in Strong, and it had been both uncomfortable and scary. I’d lain awake half the night, wondering who could come out of the dark and spot me in the backseat of the car. I really, really didn’t want to do that again, which was why I’d decided to stay put in Strong until I had some cash and a plan.