Fan the Flames (24 page)

Rory was still standing in the same place when he returned from the kitchen.

Backlit from the dim hall lights, Ian said in a voice rough from sleep, “Thought I told you to go back to bed.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

Ian came to an abrupt halt. “For what?”

As she closed the gap between them, he didn't move. His eyes stayed fixed on her face. “For turning off the oven.” Going to her tiptoes, she dropped a kiss on his chin, the highest spot she could reach.

His palm cupped her neck, his thumb brushing a sensitive spot under her jaw. “You're welcome. If that's the thanks I get, I'm going to start doing more stuff around the house. Who knows what you'd do if I vacuumed.”

She was still smiling when he kissed her. Like the first time, it started soft and gentle, but quickly deepened, until Ian pulled back with a groan. “Bed.” His voice was even growlier now. Turning her around by the shoulders, he started her on her way back to bed with a pat to the bottom.

“Can't keep your hands off my rear, can you?” It amazed her that she'd just teased him, especially about her butt, and she hadn't even blushed a little.

“Nope. I dream about that ass.”

Now her cheeks did redden. “Really?”

“Oh yeah.”

She didn't know what to say, but she still didn't regret starting this. Knowing that Ian thought about her made her smile return. “Thank you?”

“You're welcome.” Laughter had returned to his voice, but she didn't care. Her chest still glowed with warmth.

As they settled into their respective sides, the motion of the mattress made one of the pillows topple over onto her arm. She straightened it and then kept her hand there. “Ian?”

“Yeah.” By the sound of his voice, he was facing her, lying very close to the plush wall.

“You can hold my hand, if you still want to.” Her face flamed. Put that way, it sounded like something an eight-year-old would say. Her teeth closed on the inside of her lower lip. She'd expected a verbal answer, so she jumped when Ian linked his fingers with hers.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, sounding even closer than a moment before.

Her heart bounced in her chest, and she tried to slow her breathing. If holding hands made her react this intensely, she'd probably have a stroke when they did…other things on the timeline. The warmth from his palm soaked into hers, and his stillness helped her to calm herself. His breathing deepened until she could tell he'd fallen asleep, and she felt herself drifting, relaxed and even smiling a little. She'd already figured out that being with Ian could be fun. Now she knew it could be…nice, too.

After another four hours of sleep, Rory was left wondering how she had ever thought Ian was anything but a dictatorial, rude jerk.

They stared at each other across the table. Earlier, they'd woken reluctantly and eaten the re-rewarmed stew. Ian had demolished almost the entire loaf of bread on his own. Now their bowls were empty, and only crumbs remained of the bread.

“Just sleep on one of the cots at the station. You don't have to go on any of the calls,” he said.

“Why?” Standing, she reached for their bowls, but he beat her to it, grabbing the dishes and depositing them in the sink with a little more force than necessary. “I have a perfectly good bed here. And I know I couldn't keep myself from going on calls if I'm there.”

Leaning against the counter, he stared at her, his jaw set. “I don't like leaving you here by yourself.”

“Ian. My home is secure. You can't babysit me all the time.”

“North told me that Billy threatened you.”

Shouldering him aside, she started washing their few dishes. “He couldn't get down here, even if he wanted to.”

“No.” That didn't seem to make Ian any happier. “But I know you. If anyone sets off one of your alarms, you'll be upstairs and outside in a second.”

She paused in the middle of rinsing suds off a bowl to look at him. “Well, yeah. That's what you do when someone invades your property.”

“And
that
is why I don't want to leave you here alone.” He almost violently grabbed a dish towel hanging on the oven door and held out a hand for the bowl.

“Do you want me to stay down here if someone tries to break in?” She gave him the dish and absently reached for the second. “I don't know if I could do that—just watch on the cameras as they take all of my inventory.”

“Call the sheriff's department.”

That honestly hadn't occurred to her. She'd grown up learning that she took care of herself and her property. Calling for help just seemed…unnatural. She offered the cleaned bowl to Ian and said, “It takes them a while to get here. Plus, I'd still have to go out to unlock the gate.”

“Rory.” Instead of taking the bowl, he closed his hand over hers where she held it. “Nothing you own is worth your life.”

“But that is my life.” She gestured toward the ceiling. “I need to protect it.”

“Everything up there can be replaced.” Placing the bowl on the counter, he cupped her chin, tilting her face so she met his eyes. “You can't. You need to protect yourself first. This is my last shift, then I'm off for four days. Just come with me to the station tonight, so I don't go out of my mind worrying about you here by yourself.”

Rory shook her head as well as she could with him still holding her chin. “I can't tag along everywhere you go so you can protect me. I'm really good at protecting myself, whether from Billy or zombie hordes.” She tried to smile, but his grim expression didn't change. “I like you.” Her blush returned in a wash of heat, but she plowed on. “I like whatever this is that's starting between us. But this—the house and shop and property—is my life, and I want to keep it, too.”

After a long moment, he gave a short, hard exhale. “Fine. At least promise me you'll stay down here if anyone comes on the property.”

Regret clawed at her throat, but she had to be honest. “I want to tell you yes, so you don't have to worry, but I'm not going to lie. I wouldn't be able to just sit here and hide.”

His jaw muscles worked as he stared at her. Finally, with a short, silent jerk of a nod, he tossed the dish towel onto the counter and headed for the stairs. He was halfway up them before she realized he'd set off the alarm in the back room, since he didn't know the code. Also, his Bronco was still parked at his house.

“I'll give you a ride home,” she offered, hurrying after him.

“I'll call Soup for a ride.”

“That's stupid. I'd have you home before he even gets here. Besides, you need my keys to unlock the gates.”

He paused, staring at the steel door. “Fine.”

She was silent. They'd fought before, both of them stubborn to a fault, and then things had cooled, and they'd been okay. But this was the first time she was left uncertain about her place in his life; there had been too many changes between them, too quickly.

She swallowed her questions, her worry, and drove him into town. She didn't say a word.

By the time she sat in her idling pickup, watching Ian open his own side door after a silent trip to his house, she was in turmoil. The door closed behind him, hiding him from view, and the back of her eyes and nose started to burn. Had they broken up? Was it over after two kisses and some sleepy hand-holding?

She didn't know. She didn't know how any of this worked.

When she realized she was staring at his house like an unbalanced stalker, she eased the pickup away from the curb. Without thinking too hard about where she was going, she pointed the truck toward The Coffee Spot. If someone had a question about a gun, they came to her. Now Rory needed the advice of an expert—or at least the closest thing to an expert she knew.

After she barged into the coffee shop, she stopped just inside the door, barely avoiding squashing her nose against the back of the last person in a long line. Not only was every chair in the place occupied, but Callum had taken his usual position on the stool closest to the wall. Her plan for a conversation with Lou was blown to bits.

“Rory!” Lou shouted as she poured steamed milk into a cup. “Get over here and sit.”

Eyeing the occupied stools, Rory didn't move.

Handing over the drink and taking the proffered money in the same gesture, Lou said, “Gary, you've been on that stool for three hours. It's time to go home and face Veronica.”

“But…” the occupant of the seat next to Callum whined.

Shaking her head, Lou pointed toward the door with the hand not pulling change from the register drawer. “Home. Apologize. She'll yell and then forgive you. It's a ding in her car door, not a visit with a hooker. Go.”

Although his face was sullen, he slid off his stool and headed for the door. When an early twenty-something man in skinny jeans sidled toward the vacated seat, Lou turned her pointing finger toward him. “Don't even think about it. Keep your hipster ass off that stool. Where are your manners? Stealing a seat from a lady? Didn't your mother ever teach you better?” When the man slunk away toward the other side of the shop, Lou grinned at Rory. “Hurry up before someone else tries to grab it. That's prime real estate next to
Caliente
Callum here.”

Although Callum just looked slightly pained, Rory blushed as she slid onto the stool. “Thanks, Lou, but I shouldn't stay long. I have to get the chicken coop closed up for the night.”

Lou hurried away to take the next person's order. As she bustled around making drinks, Callum leaned a little closer so she could hear him. “No shift tonight?”

The mention touched a little close to a very raw nerve, and she moved her gaze to the top of the counter. There was an empty plate and a napkin folded with extreme precision. Even if it hadn't been in front of him, she'd have guessed it was Callum's work. “No.”

“Heard you were the one who cleaned the storage room.”

She had to smile a little at the deep satisfaction in his words. “Yeah. It was slow last night, and I had some nervous energy to spare.”

“Thank you. I saw it today. A huge improvement.”

“What he means,” Lou broke in as she pulled a large cup from the stack, “is that he can actually step foot in there now without curling into a whimpering ball.”

It was still strange to see someone brave enough to tease Callum. When Rory glanced at him, though, he was calmly sipping his coffee, eyeing a grinning Lou over the top of his cup. He even looked a little amused. Their easy interaction made her feel even more inept. She couldn't imagine a conversation between the two of them disintegrating into whatever had just happened between her and Ian.

“You okay?” Callum asked, and her eyes jerked to his. She hadn't realized she'd been projecting her feelings onto her face for everyone and his mother to see.

“Yeah.” Although Callum just sipped his coffee, Rory couldn't meet his gaze. She felt strangely guilty for the lie, tension building in her chest until she felt like she had to say something or her lungs would explode. “No. I don't know.”

There was more silent coffee-sipping on Callum's part. Rory reached for the folded napkin, needing something to do with her hands, but Callum slid it out of her reach.

“Sorry.” Grimacing, she knotted her fingers together to hold them in place. “I'm not usually so fidgety.”

“It's okay. What's up?”

“I think…” She paused, unable to believe she was about to confide in Callum, of all people. Lou was busy, though, and Callum was there and listening as if he was really interested, and Rory was pretty sure her brain would explode if she didn't figure out what exactly had just happened, so Callum it was. “I think Ian and I broke up. Maybe. Or we might have had a fight. Or I might have just refused to obey him, so he's cranky, but everything will be fine once his shift is finished. Or maybe I won't ever see him again.”

“I doubt that last one,” Callum said evenly. “You both live in Simpson, after all.”

“You're right.” Horror-stricken, she stared at him. “I won't ever be able to go to Station One or the grocery store or the post office without being worried that I'll run into him. When he starts dating someone else, they'll be together, and then I'll run into
both
of them. I bet she'll be gorgeous. It's going to be so awful and awkward.” With a groan, she let her forehead rest on her stacked hands.

“You probably need to figure out if you have actually broken up before worrying about the aftermath.” His voice was so matter-of-fact, it calmed her panic, and she raised her head. Rory could see how he'd be a good dive-team leader.

“I know.” Taking a deep breath, she prepared to expose her secret humiliation. “I just haven't done this before, so I don't know if this is just a normal spat, or if we're done.”

“What was the fight about?”

“He wanted me to go with him to Station One tonight.” When Callum nodded, she continued. “But I need to reopen the shop, so I told him I was staying home. He didn't like that, so we argued about it for a while, and then he wanted me to promise to hide and call the sheriff if anyone tried to break in again.”

“That sounds reasonable.”

She stared at him. “Hide and call the sheriff? Could you do that if someone broke into your house?”

After considering this for a moment, he said, “No.”

“So why would you expect me to be able to do that?”

A small smile played at the corners of Callum's mouth. “Good point. But I can understand why Ian would be concerned, too.”

Lou snorted. With a half-prepared drink in her hand, she leaned over the counter toward Rory and Callum so she didn't have to yell over the chatter of the crowd. “What he's not saying is that he refused to let me stay alone when my stalker was”—she winced a little before smoothing out her expression—“well, not dead. Not that I complained.” At an eyebrow lift from Callum, she amended that. “Too much.”

“So,” Rory said after Lou returned to finish the latest drink order, “what do I do? Wait for him to call? Call him? Apologize?” She scrunched her face. “There's not really anything I'm sorry about, though, except that we fought—or argued or broke up or whatever we did.”

Callum was looking a little uneasy. “I don't think I'm the best person to be giving relationship advice.”

There was a snicker from the vicinity of the cash register. With all the noise in the shop, Rory wasn't sure how Lou was hearing their low-voiced conversation, but she didn't seem to be missing a word of it.

“You're not going to help?” She stared at him, panicked. “But I don't know what I'm doing!”

“Fine.” He placed his travel mug on the counter and aligned it perfectly with his empty plate. Rory wondered what his closet looked like, but then she decided she had a pretty good idea. Callum's closet would definitely have the floor space for a makeshift bed. “Have another conversation with him after his shift—actually, after he sleeps after his shift. Just tell him straight out what you told me, and then ask if that means you two are done. Right now, you're guessing, and he's probably guessing, and it's nothing that can't be solved by ten minutes of talking.”

Rory studied her clenched hands as she considered this. The thought of him saying that they were definitely over made her stomach twist like a wet towel. On the other hand, not knowing was horrible. Could hearing the confirmation that they'd broken up be any worse than that? She suspected yes, but she still wanted to know for sure. “Okay.”

“Really?” Callum sounded surprised.

“Yes. It makes sense.”

“It does?”

Reaching across the counter, Lou squeezed his hand. “Look at you. Cal, the relationship sensei. You'll need to start an advice column in the
Simpson Star
newspaper.”

He made a scoffing noise, but still looked a little pleased.

Hopping off the stool, Rory started for the door.

“Are you going to call him now?” Lou shouted after her.

Pausing with one hand on the door handle, Rory said, “Chickens first, then feed Jack, and then I'll stop by the station. I'd rather do this face-to-face. Listening to long pauses on a phone call will make me lose my nerve.”

Lou approved. “Good idea. Serious conversations should be face-to-face. Besides, that way, he'll be right there so you can make up afterward.” She lifted her eyebrows in a goofy gesture that made Rory laugh, despite her blush.

“Thanks,” she called as she pushed open the door and stepped into the cold night.

* * *

During the drive home, the roads were dry, but small snowflakes whirled in front of her truck's headlights. The chickens had tucked themselves into the coop already, so she just had to close the door and collect Jack. After he ate, she loaded him into the pickup and started for the station.

The flurries were thickening, and snow was sticking to the road in random patches. The traction was still good, but she slowed anyway, telling herself it was because she was being careful rather than because she was delaying her conversation with Ian. The drive was short, however, and she reached Station One much too quickly for her peace of mind.

When she let Jack out of the truck, he bounded to the door. Rory followed more slowly, although the small bits of snow stinging her face kept her from dawdling too much. As she entered the station, bringing Jack and a gust of cold, snow-filled wind with her, she quickly shut the door behind her. The warm air was a relief, and she felt her shoulders relax a little, only to seize up again at the sound of male laughter coming from the break room.

Jack had already disappeared, galloping toward the smell of food and his new favorite group of people. She followed, poking her head inside to see the usual nightshift crew sitting around the table, the remains of a mostly eaten cake in front of them.

“Rory!” Soup was the first to greet her. “We got you something.” He leaned back in his chair until he balanced on its two back legs and could reach something on the shelves behind him. Rory, like the big chicken that she was, kept her eyes on him so she wouldn't have to look at Ian.

“You're going to break your head,” Al scolded, although without much heat. “Don't let the safety officer see you doing that.”

“Joe ruins all our fun,” Soup sighed, straightening so all four chair legs connected with the floor. He held out a box to her. “Here.”

Rory accepted it, eyeing it cautiously. “Gloves?”

“Extra-small for those tiny doll hands of yours.” Tipping back in his chair again, he grinned and winked at her. “Now, for me, I take extra-large…in
all
my latex coverings.”

Steve reached past Al to slap the back of Soup's head, knocking him forward so his front chair legs clattered against the floor.

“Ha!” Junior crowed. “For once it wasn't me.”

The rest of the guys laughed, and then Al turned to Rory. “Want some cake? We're having a little ‘we're glad you're out of jail' celebration.”

“We were going to put a metal file in the cake,” Soup said, not seeming too ruffled by Steve's reprimand, “but the only one we had was really dirty, so it didn't seem hygienic—or tasty. Who wants a grease-and-dirt flavored cake?”

“No, thanks,” Rory said. “I was just…ah, hoping to talk to Ian for a minute?” She finally managed to work up the nerve to glance at him, although his expressionless face didn't reveal anything. Her stomach twisted tighter.

Without a word, Ian stood and made his way around the table toward her. As he escorted her out of the break room, he stayed close behind her, although he didn't touch her. Rory wasn't sure if this settled her nerves or wound her tighter.

As they made their way down the hall, she heard Junior whisper in a voice meant to carry, “Did any of you guys notice the tension? Are Mom and Dad fighting?”

“Mind your business,” Steve said gruffly.

The other men's chuckles followed them until they entered the training room. When the door closed behind them, an awkward silence fell.

Rory glanced at the closed door they'd just passed through. “Can we maybe go to a different room? I just have this feeling that Junior and Soup already have glasses pressed to the door so they can listen.”

With an amused snort, he moved toward the storage room she'd just reorganized, herding her in front of him. It was a little unnerving to have his silent, possibly angry bulk looming behind her, so she hurried into the room.

“Did the chief mind that I cleaned up a little?” She glanced around the space. Even though she'd done the work, it was still odd not having the mountains of gear piled everywhere.

“From what Al told me, the chief stared at it for a long time when he got here this morning. All he said was that he needed to have a little chat with you.”

Nibbling on the inside of her lip, Rory sent him an apprehensive glance. “That doesn't sound pleasant.”

“Probably not.”

They both grew quiet.

Rory knew she needed just to get this done. Straightening her shoulders, she said, “I talked to Callum.” That wasn't how she'd intended to start, but at least she wasn't silently staring at the shelves anymore.

After opening his mouth and closing it again, he finally responded, “Okay. I didn't expect that. Why were you talking to Callum?”

“Why?” The question threw her a little. “Um…I guess because I went to see Lou at The Coffee Spot, since she's really the only person in a solid relationship who I know well enough to talk to about this.” After a pause, she amended her statement. “She's really the
only
person I know well enough to talk to about this, solid relationship or no solid relationship.”