His Firefly Cowgirl (6 page)

Soot marked his cheeks and his hair was sticking every which way with sweat. No doubt he would smell horrible but she was too busy staring at him to think about it.

He put his helmet and boots in the back of the truck. As he slid off the turnout suit, she climbed out to watch. He quirked a brow at her but didn’t ask her what she was doing. Good thing, because she couldn’t explain an iota of her behavior over the last day.

“I’m sorry this took so long. You could have stayed at the ranch.”

She shrugged, her eyes not straying from his body. “I’d rather be here.”

“I need to call Myron to find out what he’s doing with your car.”

The reminder of her way home to Houston was like a slap. She nodded.

“I should’ve done that already.” She had no reason why other than her preoccupation with Dax Blackwood.

“Let me give him a call now and we’ll get you on your way home.”

Sophie’s throat tightened. “I’ll be grateful for clean clothes. Maybe we can stop at Madison’s so I can pick up a few things to wear.”

His brows went up. “You want to buy clothes? In Tanger?”

“I’ve been in these underwear for about thirty-six hours. I’d pay quite a bit for a fresh pair no matter where I bought them.” It was true no matter if she was lying to herself as to why she wanted to go to the store. He didn’t need to know she wanted to extend her time with him.

“We can stop at Madison’s.” He put the turnout suit in the bed of the truck and pulled his phone from his pocket.

As he called Myron, Sophie turned away. She should tell him what she’d realized, but self-preservation made the words stick somewhere between her voice box and her mouth. What if he told her it was too late? What if he said he didn’t feel the same? Or worst of all, what if he laughed?

No, she couldn’t tell him. She’d spent five years hiding her feelings and pushing herself to do more, be more, achieve more. Now to discover she’d been hiding her true feelings was shocking and frightening. Sophie had thought she knew who she was.

She was wrong.

“Myron said he towed the car. The starter is bad. He can jump it but he’s not sure if you’ll make it back to Houston safely.” Dax leaned against the truck, his exhaustion apparent.

Her selfish thoughts brought her back to reality. He’d just spent three hours fighting a fire.

“You can go ahead home. I’ll make my way to the garage and wait for the car to be fixed.” She turned and picked up her bag from the truck. “I appreciate your help last night.”

And the rest of it too. The sex, the companionship, the stargazing. All of it was more fun than she’d had in a very long time.

“You didn’t let me finish. Myron doesn’t have the starter. He’s going to go to the junkyard about twenty miles west of here to see if he can find one. Otherwise it’s two days to order one online.” He tapped the side of the truck. “I can find a car to lend you and when your car is fixed, I can bring it to you.”

There was her out. A borrowed car and a path back to sanity. She should take it and run like hell.

“Why don’t we go to Madison’s now? I think we should wait to decide about the car until after Myron gets back to you about the junkyard.” Sophie gave herself a brief reprieve before she had to decide.

“Fair enough. We’ll get you some clothes at Madison’s. I’ve got a go-bag in my locker at the firehouse. Let me take a quick shower there and change. Then we can have a late lunch.” He walked around to the other side of the truck.

Sophie climbed back in and set her bag down. The clock was now ticking. She had an hour, no more than two, until she had to make a decision.

Would she stay or would she go?

Chapter Six

Dax walked behind Sophie as she picked through the clothes at Madison’s. It was plain, serviceable stuff but it was clean. She looked as hot as he felt. The heat of the day had settled over the town. Summer was in full swing before it was technically summer.

She didn’t complain about the selection or the quality. He didn’t know her anymore to understand her behavior. He was too grateful to be in the air-conditioned store to bring it up.

“Nice job today, Dax.” The store’s owner, Bridget Johnson, handed him a cold bottle of soda. She and her husband had moved from Seattle and bought the store a few years earlier. When they’d revamped the interior and hung a new sign, some folks balked, others welcomed a fresh look at the only store in Tanger.

“Thanks, Bridget.” He gestured to Sophie. “This is Sophie Evans. She’s the insurance investigator for the fire at Cindy’s.”

Bridget’s black brows went up. “Nice to meet you, Miss Evans.”

After the ladies exchanged pleasantries, Bridget pointed to the drawers beneath the display. “There’s a few more sizes and colors underneath. Feel free to look through what’s in there.” She smiled and walked back toward the front of the store.

“What happened to the Fosters?” Sophie asked as she squatted down to open a drawer.

“They retired and moved to Phoenix. The Johnsons bought this place three years ago or so. Nice folks.” He took a swig of the ice-cold soda. The sweetness slid down his throat with a nice buzzing of carbonation.

She put a pair of shorts, T-shirt, bra and underwear in a pile. “Sandals?”

He pointed toward the back. “Behind you.”

After a few minutes of reviewing her options, she picked a pair of pink, sparkly flip-flops. It was in sharp contrast to the dark colors and boots she currently wore. He wanted to ask her if she normally dressed one way or the other, but it wasn’t his business. None of what she did was his business.

They made their way to the front of the door and he tried to pay for her clothes. That was a mistake.

Her brows drew together. “Do you remember me telling you I can’t accept gifts from you and why? Please stop trying to pay for things.” She pulled out a small wallet from her pocket and paid cash.

He didn’t know whether to be insulted or chastised for offering to pay for her clothes. “I would have offered no matter if I knew you or not. You were in town to investigate a claim for my insurance company. I feel an obligation.”

Yet another mistake.

“Jesus, Dax, stop while you’re behind, would you?” She opened the door to the truck with a screech of metal, which was normal but seemed to punctuate her annoyance with him. “I’m no one’s obligation.”

He climbed in and started the truck. “We’ll head to the firehouse and clean up, change clothes then have lunch.” He waited for her to complain about him taking charge again, but she kept silent, her gaze locked out the window to her right.

Dax didn’t know his ass from his elbow apparently. She was mad when he was a gentleman. She was mad when he wasn’t. He had to give up guessing what was the right choice. His heart was a fool to be in love with such a contrary female.

They reached the firehouse in minutes and he offered the bathroom to her first. He spent his time drinking cold water in the kitchen. It was crude, but it functioned for what they needed. Clint walked in and spotted the bathroom door closed.

“She still here?”

“She is.”

Clint shook his head. “I still think you’re playing with fire.”

“If I get burned, it’s on me. I won’t ask for help this time.” Dax wasn’t sure what he would do when it was time for her to leave. He might spill his guts or he might chicken out and let her walk away again.

Clint grabbed a soda from the fridge and popped the top. He was covered in sweat, grime and soot too. The air conditioning in the firehouse was cranked up for once, thank God. There was nothing like hitting that icy cold air after you’ve been standing next to an inferno for hours. He still wanted a swim to wash away the soot and sweat.

“That fire was set.” Clint crushed the can and tossed it in the recycling bin in the corner. “I smelled gas on the pavement.”

“Yep, I thought the same thing. So did Kyle. We’re gonna need bigger guns to investigate. I’m gonna call the state fire marshal’s office after I get back down there and take some pictures.” It was good to focus on something other than Sophie for two minutes.

“Some fucker decided to start torching Tanger. What the hell is that about? There ain’t nothing, and I mean nothing, going on in this town that warrants a firebug like that to trash it.” Clint took another soda. This time he took sips rather than gulps, with an occasional belch as the carbonation hit his stomach.

“We’ll have to come up with a list of disgruntled people who have a grudge against the Blackwoods.”

“Or the fire department.” Clint gestured to the building. “Maybe someone wanted to volunteer and we turned them down. Or maybe someone was mad that we didn’t respond to their call quick enough.” He shrugged. “People are fucking crazy.”

“I think you’re right.” Sophie appeared in the bathroom doorway wearing a pair of navy blue shorts, a white-and-blue striped T-shirt that was taut against her incredible tits, and the girly pink flip-flops.

He wanted to eat her for breakfast.

“That so?” Clint watched her with a guarded expression. “What am I right about?”

“I believe both of those fires were set. I might lose my job for telling you, Dax, but I think it’s too important not to bump this higher up the chain. I called a friend at the state fire marshal’s office. Someone will be here by two o’clock.”

Clint looked as shocked as Dax felt. No matter how many times they called the state fire marshal, little Tanger ranked low on the list of priorities. Certainly they hadn’t come to town within hours of being called. Sophie had friends in high places.

“Thanks. Glad to see you haven’t completely forgotten where you came from.” Clint strolled out of the room leaving Dax and Sophie alone.

“Your turn.” She carried her boots and dirty clothes. “I didn’t have a brush so I did the best I could.”

“You look beautiful,” popped out of his mouth.

She glanced away. “I’m also starving.”

“Right, let me clean up quick and we’ll head over to the diner.”

With Cindy’s burned down, there were few choices in town. An Italian place near the mill, a fast-food place, the ice cream castle or the diner at the edge of town. It was in a shiny trailer-looking building. They had good omelets, but otherwise it was typical greasy-spoon fare.

Dax grabbed clothes from his locker and went into the bathroom. He hurried, not because she was hungry, but because he wanted to see her in those clothes again. Her curves made him hungry for much more than lunch.

Sophie paced the small kitchen in the firehouse. She texted her neighbor Barb and checked on her cat, Rufus. The older woman always took care of the tabby whenever Sophie traveled overnight. Fortunately Barb had been able to pick up the cat yesterday when Sophie had texted her about being stranded.

She checked email with glacial speed but didn’t see anything urgent. It was Saturday after all. Not much happened on the weekend when you worked for a corporation, unless you were an investigator sent out on a job. It was one of the reasons Sophie aspired to the role. She could travel, meet people and never be home for more than a week at a time.

Solving puzzles had always been one of her strengths. The appeal behind being a fire investigator was a mixture of being a detective and a scientist. Sophie could’ve done anything with her B.S., but she gravitated toward investigating fires. Sophie’s father had been a volunteer firefighter in Tanger, in addition to being a vet, and she’d spent many hours learning about fires from him and from Dax’s father.

If she were honest, Rufus was more Barb’s cat than hers. Sophie’s townhouse was lonely and empty. Her furniture was included when she purchased the place. The only things that truly belonged to her were her clothes and books.

Sophie had been so busy making her life perfect she forgot to live it. The realization, and acceptance, made her chest heavy. Coming back to Tanger had shown her everything she’d left behind, all she’d missed, and all she could have had if she’d made a different choice.

“Ready?” Dax stepped into the kitchen, his curls damp and springy, smelling as fresh as a bar of soap. He smelled of toothpaste too. She wanted to run her hands through that hair and taste those lips to see if the minty scent was on his tongue too. “Soph?”

She managed a weak smile. “Yes, let’s go eat before I start gnawing on my boots.”

They drove to the diner and were seated in the funky little building in just a few minutes. She’d seen it when she drove into town.

“How long has this been here?” she asked as she opened the menu.

“Three or four years. The Kraskys had it moved here from somewhere in North Carolina. They’re open until midnight so they get the late-night crowd.” Dax leaned forward and spoke low. “Don’t tell Hannah, but their meatloaf is better than hers.”

Sophie blinked. “Do you plan to rebuild the restaurant?”

He nodded. “Of course. The Blackwoods have been running that business for a hundred and fifty years. Why would we let another fire ruin it?”

“Another fire?” She had to wait for an answer because the waitress stopped to take their orders and brought them glasses of ice water. Sophie sipped at her water and waited for Dax to reply but he didn’t. Impatience won out. “Was there another fire?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, back after the Civil War when the Blackwoods settled in Tanger, it burned to the ground. The story goes, they built it as an investment and it turned out to be such a lucrative business, they kept at it.”

“Will you still call it Cindy’s? Do you know who that was?” Sophie hadn’t ever asked about the restaurant before. When they were growing up, Dax’s mother ran the place and it was a hangout, not a history lesson.

“We have to keep it as Cindy’s. It’s what everyone knows it as, even the truckers who drive through town. Our biscuits, cobbler and sweet tea are legendary, not to mention the other delicious dishes. Hannah has really kept the quality up, and the profits too.” He took a drink of his water. “From what I was told, Cindy was the daughter of the original owner. She died or something like that and he named the restaurant in her honor.”

Sophie liked that story. It was something good from what was probably a tragedy. The Blackwoods had a knack for building something from nothing. Through good times and hard times, they kept at it. Perseverance was in their blood.

Then why hadn’t he come after her in Houston?

That question would haunt her for the rest of her life and there was no answer forthcoming. She wouldn’t ask again. The rest of the meal passed in silence as they both dug into the food with gusto. They ate until their plates were empty and bellies were full.

“I think I’m in a food coma.” Dax patted his still-flat belly. “Damn, I was hungry.”

She found herself smiling. “Me too.”

When the waitress returned, Sophie requested two checks. Dax didn’t protest, for which she was grateful. She needed some level of independence and autonomy. No matter how she felt about him, Sophie was still there in a professional capacity. That had blurred a bit yesterday out by the pump at the ranch, and in her bed, but it was still nonetheless the situation.

After they paid, they got to their feet. Dax swung the keys to the truck in his hand. “Ready to get home?”

She started, her heart hammering into high gear. “Pardon?”

“Home? You can use my mom’s car to drive to Houston. When Myron fixes yours we’ll get it out to you and drive back my mom’s.” He spoke casually, as if he hadn’t just told her it was time to leave for good. “She doesn’t drive much anymore, not since Dad passed away.”

Sophie’s lunch sat like a lead weight in her belly, the taste of regret strong in her mouth. She needed to tell him how she felt or she might not ever get the chance. By the time they pulled through the ranch gates, she had worked herself into a fine snit. Chastising and goading herself into revealing her thoughts.

A white sedan sat in a carport by the guest house. That was to be her chariot of doom.

“I’ll go grab the keys from Mom. Be right back.” He jogged off and left her alone.

Her eyes stung as she walked to the car, her bag and clothes in hand. This was it then. The end of the line of the wild adventure in Tanger. She had to go home, to return to her life and to control.

Didn’t she?

Dax’s mother was sleeping so he jotted a note on the counter and took the keys as quietly as he could. She’d been feeling poorly of late and he was worried about her. In the years since Dad had passed, she’d become melancholy and frail. Dax needed to get her back out there and living life. Maybe he could get Hannah interested in helping Mama and in turn, get herself out of her depression.

He shook off the maudlin thoughts about his mother and grabbed a couple towels from her linen closet. After Sophie left, he was going swimming in the pond. Possibly for hours, until his body was too exhausted to do anything but sleep. He hoped he didn’t dream of her.