Sparking the Fire (37 page)

“You.”

Her heart jerked in her chest. “What?”

“Luke, Beck, and Gage were already in CFD. Alex was an EMT, waiting her turn. For four years since Logan and Sean died, I'd been keeping my distance from them. Just seemed better that way. If something happened to me or to them, those miles I placed between us, physical and emotional, would keep the hurt to manageable levels.”

“Did you really believe that?”

“Made myself believe it. When Logan and Sean died, I locked myself in this black space. The two men who had saved me were gone, wiped out of existence, and I didn't think I could survive my heart shattering again. So I convinced myself this was easier on the rest of my family. If I died in the desert, they'd mourn me and move on.”

He thought he wouldn't be missed. That he could control the situation in such a way that his passing, God forbid it should happen, would mean less to the family that adored him.

“Then came you,” he said, low and jagged. “That week with you, I realized that I felt more of a connection to a stranger I'd just met than I did to my own family. That was my fault. I needed to fix it. Day after you left, I put in my application to CFD. Was called up six months later.”

Her heart hammered triple-time. “I'm the reason you're a firefighter.”

“You're the reason for a lot of things, Molly. But it didn't quite work to bring me closer to them. I still kept my distance, because every day at the firehouse I'm reminded of what I lost. Being a firefighter, being a Dempsey, is a double-edged sword.”

“How so?” Her throat was thick with unshed tears.

“It's the best, and because it's the best, you realize how much you have to lose if something goes wrong. You tried to tell me that once when you were explaining Roni's detachment. How her getting close is a lot for her heart to risk.”

This man.
Gage was right. Wyatt felt as much or more than any of them. He just locked it down to protect himself in case it all went wrong.

“But I'm sick of holding that in. They're my people. Roni's my girl. And if I don't let them know what's up, then it'll be too late if something happens. And yeah, if it goes FUBAR, whether it's me taking the dirt nap or one of them, at least they'll know I didn't hold back. Instead I held on. To the good and the bad.”

Did that include her? Did he want to hold on to her through good times and bad?

He stroked the side of her face. “Got you to thank, Mol. With everyone else, I feel like there's all this stuff deep down that I can't pull out. But with you, it's right below the surface. One slice across my chest, and it's exposed. Raw and open. With you, it's necessary.”

Wyatt Fox had just told her he loved her, not with three little words but in a declaration that came straight from his soul.

She was shaking, her emotions reaching critical mass, the moment profound and tangible between them.

“We're gonna need to talk about how this is gonna work,” he said quietly.

Bluff it out.
She needed time to think. “How what's going to work?”

His answer was to stare at her, like that could make her get on the same page, or quit playing at dummy. He eased his big body out of the bed and sat with his back to her. Reaching down, he pulled at the clothing on the floor. He grabbed hers, put it on the bed, and resumed the search for his own.

A minute passed. Then two. Wyatt redressed in the Cardinals PJs.

“Wyatt . . .”

“I'm giving you time.”

“For what?”

“To think on what I said. About how it's gonna work.”

“I'm too tired to crack the dude code. Any chance you could give me the layperson's version?”

Turning, he held her gaze with heart-wrenching intent.

“The ‘it' is us. For a while, I've wanted to think it only existed in the backseat of my Camaro or that hotel room, then and now. But it's bigger than you and me; it's graduated into an ‘us,' and now we need to figure out how to navigate this new information.”

Her heart clattered madly.
Us.
They were an us. But that's not what she wanted, was it? Her life was already a list of suffocating rules and prescriptions, how to act in public, how to ensure that no boats were rocked. A man like Wyatt Fox wouldn't enjoy those constraints, the level of scrutiny his life would become subject to. He was such a straight shooter, no artifice, no double-talk. In the land of fakery and no one meaning a word they said, he'd stand out. He would eventually come to hate it—and her with it.

“Wyatt, I can't deny there's some strong pull between us—”

“Then don't.”

She scowled her annoyance because he was right. “But you've seen what my life is like. I'm hounded and picked over, and you have your family to think of. Roni to consider. You said yourself your privacy means more than anything. You want to give that up?”

“Have you met my family?”

“It's not the same.”

“Not much different. And Roni might have been a valid excuse before. Kept us both safe, thinking we had good reason to stay on the down low.” He stood, slipped his tee over his head, and sat down on the bed again. “What've you been looking for this summer, Molly?”

Her self-respect, a way back to the woman she once was. But love? Not at all.

Sometimes it just whacks you over the head anyway.

“Sanctuary,” she whispered.

Slivers of moonlight shone through the window, illuminating the shadows painting his face. He drew a finger in a sensuous line across her jaw. Didn't say a word. He didn't have to, because he'd already laid it out in his no-nonsense Wyatt Fox way. And then he left the room, giving her the time to think that he'd promised.

She'd finally found safe harbor, and that was down to Wyatt. This man was her sanctuary. This man was her home.

The word should have filled her with dread. LA had never felt like home, and after her gran died, there was no going back to New Haven, Missouri. Neither had she found a connection in the countless places she'd lived or filmed in. But these last few weeks staying with the Dempseys had been the closest she felt to belonging somewhere in a long time.

With Wyatt's demand that she consider their future, she realized she had to puzzle out how exactly this relationship might work. He hadn't said he wouldn't come to LA, but reason should rule. She could live anywhere—and if Wyatt was with her, who cared how big or small the house was? She could be living in a fifty-thousand-square-foot mansion and Wyatt's virility, solidity, and unabashed maleness would dwarf every room.

He would want to be close to his family. To Roni. To the job he loved. So many reasons not to do this, but they meant nothing in the face of the one reason why they should.

She loved him and she was pretty damn sure he loved her.

 CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

D
istracted by the sound of a distinctly feminine gasp, Wyatt looked up from the tomato, onion, and feta frittata in the skillet. Molly stood at the back door, wearing that yoga outfit he loved almost as much as he loved his dick. He'd texted her a few minutes ago on the pretext that Roni was leaving soon and Molly should stop in and say good-bye.

“Mornin'.”

She pointed. “What in the name of all that is holy are you doing?”

“What's it look like?”

“You're cooking.” She said the word like she might say
smoking
or
watching carny porn
. “But you can't cook.”

“Never said that.”

Hands on her hips, she surveyed the kitchen as the delicious aroma drew her into his web. “Am I being pranked? Will Gage jump out any second and shout ‘gotcha'?”

He circled her waist with one arm and nuzzled her cute nose, all while keeping his eye on the bubbling egg-and-veggie mixture. “I never said I couldn't cook. I choose not to because it makes Gage feel useful.”

“How noble. What else don't I know about you?”

That I love you. That I can't imagine my life without you. That I
refuse
to imagine it.

“Isn't it nice to find out that there's more to learn about someone?”

Her smile was shy. That had been a very futuristic sort of thing to say.

She cleared her throat. “Where's Her Highness?”

“She wanted a caramel mochacino or something, so she headed over to Starbucks.”

“At 7 a.m.?” Roni was not known for greeting the sun.

“I think she wanted to take a walk around the neighborhood one last time.” This afternoon, he would drive her home to Bloomington so she'd be there when her mom's flight from Seattle arrived later. He would stick around to tell Jen about Roni's online boyfriend, because if he didn't, the universe would find a way to make sure she found out and blamed Wyatt. No more secrets. No more lies. Jen would be pissed, but hell, when was she anything else?

“You're going to miss her.”

More than he could express in words. “Yeah, but it's not so far. We'll make it work.”

He may as well have been talking about his future with a certain Hollywood superstar. Last night he'd laid it out there. He felt the truth of what was happening between them in every kiss, every thrust, every precious moment they spent together.

Now it was her call. She knew what his life was like and he knew a good deal about hers. If she wanted this to happen, then he would do whatever it took to make it work.

“We need to talk,” she said.

He cheered a mental touchdown. “Hasn't always been our strong point, but probably a good idea.”

The door blew open, Gage with it. Christ on a cracker, his brother's timing was exquisite.

“Wy, we have a prob—” He stopped, blinked, turned, and left the kitchen. One second later, he was back. “Alternate universe, perhaps?”

Molly giggled. “Apparently your brother's some sort of secret culinary ninja.”

Gage looked over his shoulder. “That my recipe?”

“Nope.”

His brother shook his head in amazement. “Well, this is fascinating and completely worthy of closer examination later, but we have something more pressing. Literally.” He divided a worried look between them both. “The press is here.”

“Here?” Molly's eyes widened. “Outside?”

Gage nodded. “I was headed into work when I spotted a couple of guys with cameras in the alley. They didn't recognize me.” His attention-loving brother sounded ever so slightly peeved about that. “When I hit the street in front of the house, I saw more. Probably five or six, hanging on the sidewalk.”

City property, so they couldn't be touched.

Wyatt moved the perfectly done eggs to the unlit back burner. “It was bound to happen eventually,” he said to Molly, feeling strangely calm. He needed to be like this with her, so she understood that he understood. “We'll handle it.”

“Wyatt, what about Roni?”

Shit. She was out there on the streets. “I'll call her and tell her to stay away. Gage can go pick her up and take her to Luke's.”

He went to grab his phone when the door opened again. This time, his niece stood there, face flushed, eyes large, Starbucks in hand.

“The paparazzi are here.”

Wyatt put his arm around her. “Did they see you?”

“Uh, yeah.” She laughed, but it left her throat in a shaky wobble. “And they took photos.”

W
yatt had known it might come to this. After all, if he was going to be Molly's man, then certain unpleasantness came with the territory. Such as asshole ex-husbands and crazed admirers and the surrender of his privacy. He'd hate it (especially the ex-husband asshole part), but it would be good to set some ground rules with the vultures wielding cameras.

No time like the present.

He strode toward the group clustered on the sidewalk outside his house, a couple of whom he recognized from the stalker-fan neutralization incident.

“How's Molly doing, Wyatt?”

So they knew his name, something else he'd have to get used to.

“Fine, as far as I know. Gonna have to ask that you leave.”

“Can Molly come out? Give us a photo of the two of you together?”

He sucked in a breath. How nice did he have to be here? “If you don't leave, I'll be calling the police.”

“Not breaking the law,” said one guy in a Nike tee. He raised his camera and clicked.

“You think the cops are in your corner?” one wag tossed out. “Your brother Luke beat up on that detective last year. The former mayor threatened another detective with the sack because of your sister.”

All true. So CPD might not be in a hurry to come to the aid of the Dempseys.

Back to trying reason. “I'd like you to delete the photo of the girl you saw walking in here a minute ago.”

No impact. If anything, it seemed to spur them on to taking as many more photos as they could.