His to Protect: A Fireside Novel (10 page)

A bit of gentle nudging in the right direction—my direction—might occur, though.

After several beats of silence, she muttered, “I need to shower.”

She walked away and I couldn’t help chuckling while she did.

“Woof!”

I looked down at Boomer sitting at my heels. His tail flopped against a wooden chair leg and his big dopey eyes were fixed on mine. He almost looked like he was smiling.

“Yeah, I know, boy. I think she likes me, too.”

“It’s completely packed out there,” I said, brushing stray hairs off my sticky forehead. With the sudden rush of afternoon customers—most of them men drinking beer as if Prohibition began at midnight—and the heat from the kitchen, my black Fireside Grill shirt was sticking to my back and my makeup was smearing more every minute.

I looked like a wreck.

I felt even worse, in that bone-numbing sort of way.

I was exhausted.

“It’s football Sunday,” Declan said, shaking his head even though he was smiling.

He’d been doing that all day.

Flashing me an impish grin whenever he caught me looking at him. Which, admittedly, had been a lot. I was still trying to figure him out, flesh out his motives, or a fuller understanding of what he meant this morning.

I had felt so flustered as I walked away from him, and so distracted in my shower, that I nearly forgot to wash my hair. Fortunately, since we’d opened this morning, the crowd had been nonstop, coming and going and needy. These football fans were so very stinking needy. All of the activity kept my mind from lingering on the tender way Declan brushed my hair behind my ear this morning, or the simple way he stated that he was attracted to me.

Me? The woman who was not only still healing from physical bruises but was an emotional basket case?

If he was attracted to someone like me, he had a few screws loose, as my nana used to say.

“People should be at church and brunch,” I muttered, letting my southern accent flow nice and strong. “It’s the Lord’s day. Don’t you Yankees know that?”

Declan threw his head back and laughed, taking a quick break from flipping beef patties on a full grill.

These football fans could eat and drink in serious quantities.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” I said and punched in another order for nachos and buffalo burgers. There were three computers in the restaurant where we could make our orders, but I was using the one in the kitchen. I needed a quiet place to get some space, away from all the mayhem going on out front.

No one had complained, either, even though I didn’t think it was common for servers to use it.

“Wait until hockey season strikes,” Declan replied, “You haven’t seen rabid fans until we have a bar full of Red Wings fans.”

My nose scrunched up. Hockey wasn’t my thing. At all. It always seemed so unnecessarily violent, what with men being tossed into walls and beaten with sticks.

“Yeah. We’ll see,” I whispered, more to myself than Declan. Come hockey season, I might be in another state. Or another country.

Despite my agreement not to do anything rash last night, after Tyson assured me that he would spend some time looking into Kevin and see what he could find out about him looking for me, I hadn’t altogether dismissed the idea of just taking off.

My cellphone seemed to burn inside my back pocket. I tried not to check it to see if Kevin had tried calling again, but I couldn’t help myself. His phone call last night reminded me that there really was a risk to staying.

Now I wasn’t only risking myself, but Declan.

Yet seeing Declan this morning, admitting that the reason he left my bed last night was because it was too hard for him to not touch me, lit a small spark inside me.

Desire.

That was what I felt when I looked at him. I couldn’t remember feeling anything like that since perhaps my wedding night with Kevin, when I still thought I was Cinderella and my Prince Charming had just slipped the glass slipper onto my foot.

I certainly quit desiring anything to do with Kevin weeks later, when he hit me for the first time. Not that his physical desire for me waned any.

I shuddered at the thought, and then jumped when Declan’s hand reached out and slid along my shoulder.

“What just happened?”

“What?” I asked, turning to face him. At the same time, I took a step back, moving away from him. His hand hovered in the air before he crossed both arms over his chest. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you just turned white as a ghost.” His eyes narrowed and I felt my pulse kick up in my throat.

I swallowed and squeezed my eyes closed. “Nothing. I was just thinking.”

His lips pressed together, forming a tense, straight line as he evaluated my truthfulness. “About?”

“Nothing, Declan. I swear.” I lifted up my order pad and nodded toward the kitchen door. We were too busy for either of us to be standing around chatting. Plus, I wanted to avoid this particular conversation for as long as humanly possible. “I need to get back out there and help Katie.”

“You’ll tell me later.”

“Let it go,” I said, pleading with my eyes. He wouldn’t. I already knew it. If there was one thing I was beginning to learn about Declan, it was that he took protecting someone to extremes.

He nodded once and his arms dropped to his sides. “For now, I will. But you’ll tell me, once I’ve earned your trust.”

That small, impish grin came back, along with a sparkle in his rich-brown eyes, like he’d already decided he knew he was going to get it, and he didn’t care how long it took.

The fact that he was probably right, that he already did have my trust, wasn’t something I felt like sharing at the moment.

But as my cheeks heated under the weight of his knowing gaze, I couldn’t help but feel another shudder run through me as I headed out through the kitchen doors. Except that time, the shudder was much more pleasurable. And it made me think it wouldn’t be dangerous at all to toss caution to the wind and admit to Declan that I wanted him, too.

“I still can’t get over how busy today was,” I told Declan as I helped him close out the cash registers in the bar. It’d become our nightly ritual when he was letting me fill in or work the floor. He sent the bartenders home early and then he and I stayed behind to close out the tills.

“Yeah. I needed this football season more than ever to hit as hard as it did.”

I frowned and lost track of the twenties I’d been counting. I’d seen his accounts and he wasn’t lying. The Fireside Grill was struggling to stay in business. Although that day had been busy, the rest of the week had been pretty slow. From what I’d seen in his computer reports, the last several months had been slow.

“Does it typically slow down in the summer?”

“Some. Most people head north to their weekend places and go on vacation, but this summer was worse than any other I’ve seen.”

“What have you done with advertising?” I asked and turned my back to the register.

I hadn’t worked for years, and the work I did do was more public relations than advertising, but ideas began slowly rolling through my mind.

He shrugged and slid a rubber band around a stack of tens. “Ad in the paper. That sort of thing. We get enough foot traffic that I haven’t done too much more.”

My lips twisted to one side as I fought to not tell him how wrong he was with that kind of thinking. As far as I could tell, the businesses in Latham Hills would all prosper if they banded together and marketed themselves as a whole. Detroit was a huge metropolis with lots to do and even more places to eat, but a lot of those places were downtown, where the tourists went to watch the professional games, see the theater shows, or visit the museums. Out in Latham Hills, they needed to be louder.

“What is it?” he asked, turning to look at me. One thick black brow arched over his eye. “You’re thinking of something.”

“Again?” I smirked. “Heaven forbid I get caught doing that twice in one day.”

A flash of concern radiated from his eyes before they crinkled at the outer edges and his lips pulled into a smile. “Teasing me? I didn’t think you had it in you.”

My smile faltered. “I haven’t had much to joke about lately.”

“Shit.” He tossed the money he was counting onto the counter and walked toward me. I threw up a hand and stopped him, shaking my head.

“I didn’t mean that, Declan. But I do have some ideas for you, a few that might help get attention, some that won’t cost you anything.”

“Like?” His curiosity piqued, he stood with his hands on his hips.

“Well. Does Latham Hills have their own fire department?” The building where Fireside was located seemed to be an old, renovated firehouse.

“Yeah. We have three stations, but most of the firemen are volunteers.” His brow furrowed. “Why?”

“Well, I was thinking, they probably do a lot of fundraising. I know back home they do. Unfortunately, while the fire departments and EMT services are some of the city’s most important assets, they’re not always funded accordingly.” When I realized I hadn’t answered his question, my excitement growing as I had a batch of new ideas I desperately wanted to write down, I explained. “You could host a fundraiser here. It’d be cool to have it in a place like this, with all its history, and the memorabilia you have hanging on the walls. Maybe a bachelor-fireman date auction. Or…” My face lit up and my eyes widened. “You could host a photo shoot for a fireman calendar.”

He scowled. “A calendar? An auction? You mean with, like, half-naked men around?”

“Think about it.” I leaned in closer to him, like I had a secret, even though there was no one else around to hear us. “Yes! It’d be perfect. Your restaurant would be in the background. We could do a group shot outside or something. So when people are flipping through the calendar, and trust me, those sell like my nana’s peach pie at a church festival, they see
your
place in every shot. Women will line up—and some men,” I added with a wink in response to his growing scowl. “And they’ll want to come here to see if they can spot any of the firemen. An auction will bring in tons of people, women mostly, for a night of drinking and food. You can increase your clientele on days when there is no game, easily.”

He was silent for a moment, appearing to think it over. “I’ll think about it.”

“Okay.” I shrugged. It was a long shot, and I was a bit rusty with my ideas. Maybe meat-market auctions and sexy calendars were too passé.

“What other ideas do you have, though?”

“Lots,” I said, and let out a breath when I realized he wasn’t completely blowing me off. He really did want to hear my ideas.

By the time three in the morning rolled around, the tills were finally counted and we were just locking up the restaurant. My head was spinning with more ideas, even as I explained the ones I’d already thought of.

Declan and I had both been jotting down notes for the last hour. While he double-checked to make sure the door to the alley was locked, I had to cover a loud yawn. But we had at least a half-dozen inexpensive marketing and advertising ideas to follow up on in the next few days.

“So you did this kind of thing before?” he asked, resting his hand on my lower back. I let him guide me to his black pickup. He waited by the open door while I slowly climbed in.

“Sometimes. I did more public relations and helping business with their image, not as much marketing. It feels like it was in another life though.”

I wasn’t even sad to admit it. It was simply the truth.

My life before I began kowtowing to Kevin about everything seemed like another plane of existence.

“It’s too bad you quit,” Declan said, watching while I buckled the seatbelt. “You’re damn good at it.”

I turned to him and smiled. I didn’t know if he could see it in the darkness, but I did know he couldn’t see the butterflies that were stirring in my stomach from the simple compliment.

Because whether Declan knew it or not, that was the first compliment I’d been given in what felt like years.

“Thanks, Declan,” I replied.

His smile in return told me he knew exactly what he’d done.

As I watched him walk around the front of his truck and climb in, then start it and pull into the empty street with ease, I wondered how it was that he seemed to know me so well.

When I hardly knew who I was anymore.

My eyes jerked open and I blinked when the truck stopped moving. I jolted awake to find myself sitting in the cab of Declan’s truck in his narrow driveway. He was already walking around the front of his truck to get to my side. He opened my door before I unbuckled myself.

“I can’t believe I fell asleep.”

He held out his hand for me to take hold of. “It’s late. Or early, depending on how you look at it.”

I smiled and placed my hand in his, letting him help me down. “It’s a four-block drive.”

He laughed softly and let go of my hand, then set his at my back and ushered me toward the front door. “Takes a while to get used to this kind of schedule,” he said as he unlocked it.

We stepped in, me going first, and I couldn’t help but suck my bottom lip in between my teeth.

His hand on my back felt so good. Warm. Comforting.

Delicious in a way that shouldn’t be possible.

Perhaps I was still slightly sleepy.

Boomer trudged around the corner, welcoming us back home, as he tended to do every night.

He slid his front paws forward, sticking his butt up in the air while he stretched, and then yawned as he reversed the move.

My hand covered my mouth as I fought my own yawn.

“Let me help you up the stairs,” Declan said. He guided me toward them before another yawn forced its way out of my mouth. “I’ll take care of Boomer once I’m done.”

I didn’t know what made me shiver—knowing he was taking care of me, or that he was also taking care of my dog. Boomer and I had lived a life surrounded by people for the last several years, yet it had been a lonely existence.

In a week, Declan managed to begin chipping at my walls of seclusion, forcing me to open up, and yet it hadn’t seemed forced at all. I was giving parts of myself to him freely, and I knew that whatever I gave him, whatever small pieces I felt comfortable sharing, he was taking care of them.

He was taking care of me, and he was taking care with the bits and pieces he was giving me.

It all left my body feeling energized. Wanting something.

And when was the last time I’d wanted anything except freedom?

“Declan?” I turned to face him as we reached the doorway to my bedroom.