Burning Up (24 page)

“What, you couldn’t afford a dress, so you just wore your slip instead?” drawled a voice to her right. “Business must not be nearly as good as you’d have everyone believe.”

Macy looked over to see—oh, goody—Liz Pickett-Smith and her coterie of yes-chicks bearing down on her.
That’ll teach me to get cocky.

Giving her shoulders an infinitesimal roll, she refused to let the other woman get under her skin. She’d mingled with far too many truly decent people
tonight to let Mrs. Mayor spoil her mood. In fact, with sudden clarity she realized that most of Queen Bitch’s nastiness likely stemmed from jealousy. Because Gabriel was right about one thing: Macy had made something of herself in the larger world, strictly on her own merit, through perseverance and hard work. In sharp contrast, Liz had climbed to the top of Sugarville’s social elite, which was a small pinnacle by anyone’s measure, on the back of her husband’s accomplishments.

And Macy wasn’t above rubbing it in. Facing the group squarely, she gave the other woman a kind smile. “I know it can be terribly difficult for someone who buys all her clothing off the rack to recognize couture when she sees it. But this ‘slip,’ Lizzy? It’s Vera Wang.” From two years ago, and she’d bought it at a huge discount from a sample sale. Damned, however, if she owed Liz and the Pucker Ups that information.

Temper mottled the other woman’s complexion. “Why did you come tonight?” she demanded through stiff lips. “Nobody wants you here.”

“Macy O’James!” called a jovial voice from behind her, and she looked over her shoulder.

Liz’s husband strode up to their group. Reaching them, the older man grabbed her hand and enthusiastically pumped it. “I’m so glad to see you!”

She bit back her grin. Who said there wasn’t a God? “Hello, Mayor Smith. It’s good to see you, too.”

“Has my beautiful bride been telling you how happy we are to have you back in Sugarville?”

A choked laugh escaped her. “Not exactly.”

“She probably hasn’t had time, what with all the effort she’s been putting into this reunion.”

“Yes, I was just mentioning to Mike Bodendorf what a lovely job she and her committees did decorating the grange.”

“She does enjoy her little projects,” he agreed with no apparent realization of how condescending he sounded. “But you! I’ve been meaning to thank you both personally and on behalf of the city and our volunteer fire department for your help at the fair. I apologize for being so remiss—it’s as if everything hit my office at once these past few weeks. But I can’t tell you what a boon it was to Sugarville’s budget—particularly the fire department’s—to have you and Mr. Savage volunteer at Chief Donovan’s dunk tank. Liz and these fine ladies here have done a
stellar,
an absolutely stellar, job of raising money for our various civic projects over the years. But you and Savage? You two raised more money in one afternoon than they have in the past four years.”

Macy nearly winced on Liz’s behalf. Any other woman and she would have, because did this guy ever listen to himself? He’d all but given his wife a pat on the head and called her the little woman.

But this was Liz. And Mrs. Mayor’s refusal to just let the nastiness
go,
for God’s sake, left Macy
without an ounce of sympathy to spare her. “I’m glad I could help.”

“Me, too,” Mayor Smith said jovially. “We could use your clout. I’ve raved, absolutely
raved,
about you at home, haven’t I, darling?” Barely awaiting Liz’s terse nod, he added wistfully, “I sure wish you lived here full-time.”

“Ah. Hmm.” She was blindsided by the strong pang of longing the idea brought. Not that she could make her home here. Could she?

No, of course not. She had a
career
and friends and a place she’d carved out for herself in California.

Right. And here all you have is a family who loves you unconditionally.

She cleared her throat. “I was happy to help. This is my town, too.” She directed that at Liz with a level look. Then she slapped on a breezy smile.

“Well, listen, it’s been great chatting with you all, but I should get back to my table and make sure my cousin doesn’t need anything.” She nodded to Smith. “Mayor.” To Liz and the yes-chicks, “Ladies.” Then she made her escape.

By rights, she should feel vindicated. Or at least triumphant. Yet even as she rejoined Janna, as she laughed and chatted and fielded compliments (and the occasional snarky remark), she somehow…didn’t.

Partly, she supposed, it was due to the fact that she truly had moved once and for all beyond the need for approval. But mostly?

Gabriel’s image exploded full-blown on her mental screens.
He
wasn’t here to see how she’d rocked this event tonight. Gabe wasn’t here to see her in her regular-girl party duds, being the goddamn bell of the ball. And without him by her side? None of it seemed that important.

Which was too stupid for words. It wasn’t as if she needed any
man
to complete her.

And yet—

She’d half expected him to show up this evening to escort her and Janna to the reunion despite the hot words that had raged between them that afternoon. Gabe was so not the type to let her edicts stand unchallenged; he was much more likely to greet them with a don’t-screw-with-me attitude while nailing her with a cool-eyed look that just
dared
her to make a fuss.

She didn’t know what to make of the way he’d simply disappeared into the mist instead. She did know, however, that after this was over, she was going to hunt him down and find out once and for all just what this thing was between them. Well, she knew what it was on her part. She loved him.

She might want to smack him at the moment, but she still loved him.

It had crept up on her the past few weeks, inch by inch, but once the emotion had her in its grip—or once she’d acknowledged that it did, at least—she’d known she was a goner. There was no retreating from this feeling. It was well and truly embedded in her
bones now; it thrummed through her blood. Because Gabe wasn’t just a big, buff guy who could make her body sing.

Not that she discounted those things. Just thinking about what he could do with his hands, his lips, his body, practically made her eyes cross, he did them so well. But he was so much more than just a fabulous lover. Despite practically raising himself, which could have left him bitter and hard, he was steady and humorous and capable. He was rock solid, a
good
man. And she was crazy about him. What
his
feelings were, however, were a mystery. One it was time to solve.

So Chief Donovan had better watch his back. Because she was bringing out the big guns and—

A sudden electric prickle touched her spine, and jerking around she glanced across the large room and found herself staring straight into Gabriel’s smoky eyes.
Oh, my God. He’s here.
Feeling suddenly, uncharacteristically vulnerable, she whipped back and stared at the confetti on the tabletop as she drew deep breaths to get her heart rate under control.

But not before she saw that he was headed straight toward her with a look on his face that suggested he might be packing some heavy artillery of his own.

G
ABE WINCED WHEN
Macy turned her back on him.
Damn.
She was still pissed. He’d hoped she’d have cooled down by now, but hadn’t truly expected that would be the case.

Well, he’d just have to see what he could do to change the situation. Squaring his shoulders, he started across the room. He’d had a rough night and he needed her. Considering how many years he’d been kicking around on his own, that wasn’t an easy thing to admit.

Yet it was true. Coming up behind her, he bent until his lips touched her ear. “Hey, there. Miss me?”

She gave one of those
dream on
sniffs females were so good at, then slowly turned in her seat. “Is that brimstone I smell, or have you been to a fire?”

“A fire.” He blew out a tired breath as just the memory of the past couple of hours weighed on him. “It was a mess, Macy.”

She studied him closely for a moment, then patted the chair next to her. “Have a seat,” she instructed, and swiveled until their knees touched as soon as
he dropped into it, focusing her attention on him. “Tell me.”

“I will. But I’ve got something to get off my chest first.” He looked her in the eye. “I’m sorry about this afternoon. I was out of line. What you wear is none of my business.”

“Too right, it’s not, bub. So don’t expect me to say it’s okay. Or that you were correct.” She gave him a narrow-eyed look, but then shifted in her seat. “Still, I’ll concede you may have had a tiny point.” Leaning back, she posed, her hands spread wide of her body. “So whataya think? Like my regular-girl duds?”

That’s when he realized he’d been so focused on her face, her expression,
her,
that he’d completely spaced on the fact she wasn’t decked out in one of her crazy-ass costumes. “You look—wow. Amazing.
Gorgeous.
” He spoke the truth. She looked so damn pretty, a woman dressed to kill for a night on the town. She hadn’t chosen a fade-into-the-background style, but it wouldn’t be her if she had. Yet neither had she donned the usual Macy-centric smoke screen.

He scooted his chair closer still, his right knee sliding along her inner thigh. He had an intense desire to ask if she’d done this for him. But where he ordinarily wouldn’t hesitate to press her, this evening had been eventful and he was too wrung out to push his luck. So he said what he should have said during their fight instead. “I think you’re amazing no matter what you wear and I swear to God I never meant to hurt your feelings. It was more about—”

“I know,” she interrupted. “And what you said about letting my accomplishments talk for me—well, it made me think a little about my motives.”

Remembering the corsages that he’d tossed on the table and promptly forgot, he picked up the container and offered it to her. “I got this as a peace offering and was gonna give it to you before the reunion, but got called out on the fire.”

“What is—? Oh, how pretty!” Her face glowed with open delight. But as if to counteract it, she shot him a sardonic look. “A corsage, Gabriel?”

“Yeah, but not one of those old lady pin-on kinds. See the little band?” He leaned forward to point out the feature. “It’s kind of like a flower bracelet.”

“What are we, at the prom?” But she got that sweet little-girl smile again and wrestled open the plastic clamshell. “Oh! It’s two small ones. Those are even prettier—look how dainty they are.” She shot him a grin. “Did you get me one for each wrist?”

“What?” He’d been blindsided by her smile but hauled his concentration back on the conversation. “No. The other one’s for Janna.”

“Ohmigawd, I love you!” Leaning forward she looped her arms over his shoulders, palmed the back of his head and pressed a quick kiss to his lips while he sat there getting a firsthand demonstration of what Savage’s expression gob-smacked meant.

But as she sat back and picked one of the corsages out of the box to examine with thorough, flattering absorption, he got his shit together.
It’s an expression,
Ace.
She didn’t mean the hey-let’s-run-off-to-the-justice-of-the-peace kind of love. She was just pleased with him for including her cousin.

Whom she was currently poking in the back. “Janna, look at this! Gabriel got us corsages.”

When Janna turned, he was surprised at the coolness in her expression when she looked at him. Or maybe he was seeing mirages, because as Macy explained that he’d been out on a fire and after examining him like a bug on a pin for a moment, she suddenly shot him a warm smile.

“Cool.” She slid the dainty arrangement Macy passed her onto her wrist and held out her arm to admire it. When she tore her gaze away to look at him again, her dark eyes held their usual softness. “It’s really pretty, Gabe. Thanks not only for including me but for not falling prey to those McMansion-size numbers.”

“Yeah, I fought the good fight in defense of a simpler style.”

She shot him another smile before the man seated on her other side reclaimed her attention and she turned away.

Macy handed him the clamshell with its remaining corsage and thrust her arm out. “Here, let’s play prom. I never got to go to mine, so we gotta follow high school rules. Put it on me.”

As he slid the flowers over her fingers and settled them around her slender wrist, he realized he wanted
to hear her say she loved him as if she meant it. Because, God, he loved the hell out of her.

With a shock he realized this realization hadn’t come out of the blue; he’d known on some level precisely what his feelings were for some time now. Not that he’d gone looking to fall in love. But she’d slipped under his defenses when he wasn’t looking and now she was burrowed so deep in his heart he didn’t think he could get her out again even if he wanted to. Which he didn’t.

Fat lot of good it did him, either way. She’d be leaving town as abruptly as she’d arrived any day now.

The thought sent a sharp ache piercing through him, but he ignored it. Damned if he’d ruin the moment. After finessing the placement of the corsage, he raised her hand to his lips. Maintaining eye contact, massaging his thumbs into her palm, he pressed a kiss to her fingertips. “There,” he said softly when he raised his head again. “It’s official. We’re going steady.”

“Yet another first for me.” She peered at him intently. “What about you? You ever give your class ring or whatever they did in Detroit to a girl?”

“Hardly. Teenage chicks are high maintenance, and until my junior year I was too busy screwing up my future to take one on. The rest of my high school career I spent scrambling to get my shit together. It didn’t leave a lot of time to work on relationships.” Remembering that part of his life made him recall
how ambivalent Macy had been about this reunion. “How has it been going for
you
tonight, revisiting the trials and tribulations of high school?”

“Scarily well.” She waved an impatient hand. “But I’ll fill you in on that later. C’mon, man. I’ve been patient.”

He snorted, because patient and Macy weren’t exactly two words he’d string together.

She shot a knuckle jab to his nearest biceps. “I
have.
Now tell me about the fire.”

“Johnny Angelini and I caught the arsonist.”

She snapped upright. “You did? Gabe, that’s great!” She studied his face. “Except there’s a downside here somewhere, because you’re clearly not thrilled about it. Was somebody hurt?” Her hazel eyes widened. “Oh, God.
Killed?
”

Her reaction reminded him that, crappy as he felt about tonight’s situation, things could have been a helluva lot worse. “No.”

“So what is it, then?”

Meeting her eyes, he admitted what he’d secretly hoped he’d never have to. “The arsonist was one of mine.”

“He was—what?” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I heard you, but…yours how?”

He blew out a quiet breath. “He was a firefighter, Macy. One of my volunteers. Ryan Solberg.”

“Oh, Gabe.” She reached for his hand. “I’m sorry.”

And he could see that she was, that she truly cared
about how it had knocked him back on his heels. It helped. “I’ve been pretty sure for a while now that it must be one of my crew members, so I don’t know why having my suspicion confirmed hit me so frickin’ hard. But I guess part of me kept hoping I was wrong. This evening, though, we caught him.”

“Setting a fire?”

“No. Close, but not in the act.” A bitter laugh escaped him. “And don’t think he didn’t try to work
that
for all he was worth.”

“Okay, you’ve lost me, so start from the beginning.” She glanced around her. “Wait. Maybe we should take this outside.”

“Good idea.” He escorted her from the building and felt some of his tension lessening as the door closed behind them to mute the cacophony of voices raised in overlapping conversations. Breathing in the verdant aroma of the farmland rolling off into the distance until it touched the midnight-blue sky meeting the horizon, he looked up at the quarter moon in its nightly sail across the sky and the accompanying stars that appeared close enough to catch in his fist.

Threading his fingers through Macy’s, he led her over to the grange hall’s side yard with its several picnic tables that were mercifully, if temporarily, free of smokers.

The minute they settled on the one farthest from the hall, sitting atop the table and propping their feet on its connected bench, she turned to him. “Spill.”

He told her about the call from Johnny. “The pumper truck was on its way and Johnny and I were heading for the new construction that’s going up in Spindale Gulch from either end of the siding road. Aside from a possible brush fire sparking dry trees in that area—which, since there’s been no lightning for the past few days, didn’t seem likely—the Coasties’ place was the only thing down that way capable of producing the flames I’d seen.”

“But when you got there your guy was gone?”

“No, he rabbited before I got there. Too bad for him he came straight my way.” He bared his teeth. “I ran into him driving up the road I was going down. And in that instant when he saw me, Macy?” His smile faded as he experienced again the sick feeling of his idiot optimism, his futile hope that somehow there’d be an explanation, dying a quiet death. “I knew by the look on his face he’d done it.”

“So what did he say? How did he explain himself?” She studied him in the dim outdoor lighting, which barely filtered back to where they were seated. And swore softly. “He didn’t man up, did he?”

“Hell, no.” He expelled a disgusted breath. “He tried to BS his way out of it. Told me how relieved he was to see me, that he’d discovered the fire but hadn’t been able to get cell reception to call the truck in and was on his way to get help. But when I asked to see his phone, he knew that I knew. And he bolted.”

“But you caught him.”

It wasn’t a question but he nodded anyway. “Yes.
I took him down with a flying tackle just as Johnny got there.”

“And did the bastard know I was in the Kilimner place when he tried to burn it down?”

“He swears he didn’t,” Gabe said. “And I tend to believe it, Macy, given how agitated he got when the subject came up. He kept saying he never would have set it if he’d known anyone was in there.”

“How on earth did he get so off track?” she demanded. “It doesn’t make sense. Why would someone who’s been dedicated to putting out fires begin starting them instead?”

“We spent most of the night down at the jailhouse asking him exactly that. And in the end, Mace? It comes down to the usual when a crime’s been committed. Money.”

He scrubbed his hands over his face before lowering them to grip his knees. Staring into the distance, he blew out a sigh, then turned to look at her. “A while back Johnny ran my crew through the system to see if anyone had a record. We might’ve nabbed Solberg sooner if I’d run a credit check instead. Because he’s pretty deep in debt. Not because of the things we were looking for that eat up money, though. He didn’t have a gambling problem or a drug addiction. He’s just a lousy money manager.”

“So instead of going to a financial planner to help him consolidate his debts and learn how to handle them, he torched other people’s property?” Macy demanded incredulously.

“Pretty much. He’d set the fires, then put himself in place to be called in on the lion’s share of them so he could put ’em out again.”

“Hey, why stop with just most? Why not all?”

“Volunteers get paid by the fire and it would’ve been too suspicious if he’d been there every time. As it was, he and another guy on my crew were the two Johnny and I were keeping our eyes on because they had higher percentages of call-outs than the rest. Shit.” Planting his elbows on his knees, he dropped his head into his hands and ground the heels into his eyes. “It’s so fucked up.”

“I’m sorry, Gabe. I know it must be hard when it’s someone you trusted.”

“He was a good firefighter,” he murmured to the bench between his feet. “That’s the part I don’t get. How can you be so instinctual about putting them out, then turn around and deliberately set them?”

She rubbed soothing circles between his shoulder blades. “Look, you don’t have to stay here if you don’t want. The reunion’s not exactly what you’d call restful.”

He lowered his hands and turned his head to look at her, realizing that he felt better, that sharing with her had somehow lessened the weight he’d been carrying. “I’m not sure I could take restful right now. That’d just give me too much time to brood.” He glanced at the hall where music had begun drifting out. “Sounds like the band’s started up,” he said, climbing off the table. He held out his hand to her,
something tugging deep and low when she promptly took it. “Let’s go get a drink and wait for a slow dance. I need to hold you in my arms.”

L
OOPING HER ARMS
loosely around Gabriel’s neck a short while later, Macy rested her head against the hard swell of his chest and imagined she could hear his heart beat beneath her ear as they swayed to the music. She liked the selections the band had been playing since she and Gabe had come inside. Unlike the usual mix played at dances, this group interspersed a decent number of slow tunes between the faster numbers.