His Firefly Cowgirl (2 page)

Since it was after five, most all the shops downtown were closed. It was still a small town after all. The way she figured it, she had two choices. Option one was to find a tow truck and wait in the heat. Option two was to call Dax.

Well, hell.

Chapter Two

Dax was washing the pumper truck when his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He tossed the sponge in the bucket beside him and pulled out the phone.

His hands were wet enough it slipped and plopped right into the bucket of water.

“Damn it!” He fished it out quick and wiped it on his already-soaked jeans. The phone made a strangled sound as it rang again. He pushed the answer button. “Hello?”

Static and a few snippets of a female voice crackled through.

“Hannah, that you?”

“Soph—stuck—fire—“

The phone went dead.

His heart picked up speed. He tried to call back but the screen on his phone flashed and then it shut itself off. That had been definitely Sophie and she sounded distressed.

Dax didn’t hesitate. He ran back into the fire station. Two other firefighters were there playing cards. He grabbed his keys from the hook on the wall.

“Gotta go. Finish the pumper, wouldja?” He didn’t wait for a response although he heard them curse at him. They took turns washing the pumper and it was his job that week. If Sophie called him for help, that was serious. She had been radio silent for five years and wouldn’t contact him unless it was an emergency.

He yanked open his truck door and tore out of the parking lot, leaving behind more rubber than he’d done in years. A few horns greeted his quick turn onto the main road. His cousin Kyle, a deputy sheriff, sat at the corner in his squad car. He flipped on his lights and popped the siren for a split second. More than likely Dax would hear all about the ticket he didn’t get the next time he saw Kyle.

Screw it. He raced back toward the other end of town. The traffic had started to pick up a little considering it was after five in the afternoon. Not that there was much of a rush hour in Tanger, but there was something like it. Enough to slow him down when he was in a hurry.

He honked and swerved around cars as he could. A few middle fingers and one shrieking old lady greeted him. He racked up a great deal of infractions that he would hear about for the next twenty years or so. One of the disadvantages to living in a small town was that everyone knew everyone else’s business.

Given that he was a Blackwood, people had expectations he had failed to live up to. He was popular in high school but he didn’t go to college, no matter how smart he was or wasn’t. Instead he chose to take over the family ranch and make his living with his hands. People judge, as they often do, but he didn’t care. He made the choice that was the right one in his heart and he’d never regretted it.

As he tore around the corner half a mile from the restaurant, the back end of the truck fishtailed but he corrected the slide. He spotted the little blue car Sophie had driven up in still sitting in the same spot.

Dax didn’t see her anywhere. He jumped out of the truck as soon as he slammed it into Park. His hat flew off and landed in the dirt beside the front tire.

“Sophie?” He jogged around the truck to find the car empty. His breath huffed in and out to accompany his racing heart. Where the hell was she?

He continued his search around the smoldering wreckage of the restaurant. Her small boot prints were around the perimeter, but he saw none in the middle where things were still dangerous. The second floor hadn’t collapsed completely.

He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Sophie!”

“Why are you shouting?”

Her voice made him jump a foot in the air. “Son of a bitch!” He blinked at the sight of her, unsure if he was relieved or annoyed. Definitely not aroused. She was sweaty, sooty and her beautiful hair lay in limp lumps.

“What happened to you? You called me but my phone cut out. You said it was an emergency and a fire.” He sounded breathless and ridiculous. What the hell was wrong with him?

She frowned. “I said my car wouldn’t start. It wasn’t an emergency and I was still at the site of the fire. I was hoping for a ride to the fire station so I didn’t have to walk.”

Well, didn’t he feel like an idiot.

He also looked like an idiot.

“Jesus, I thought you were in trouble.”

She gestured to her car. “Technically I am in trouble. Or at least my car is.”

“Where were you when I got here?” His voice was sharper than he intended.

“Hiding in the shade of the tree hoping you’d show up so I wouldn’t have to stay in Tanger tonight. I need those receipts and serial numbers to finish my report.”

Her words were like a slap. She didn’t want him. She wanted his truck and to escape from his presence before the clock struck midnight. That was a wake-up call he couldn’t ignore. Why had he rushed to her? He didn’t want to know the answer. It was a mistake. That was obvious.

He huffed out a breath. “Then get in the truck and let’s go.” He scooped up his hat and pushed it onto his head so hard he scratched his ears.

She followed him without a word and soon they were buckling their seatbelts. When he started the truck, she put her hand in front of the air vent.

“There’s no A/C, princess.” He was pleased to see her snatch her hand back. “That’s why the windows are down.”

“I can’t believe you’re still driving this piece of shit.” She adjusted the messenger bag she’d put on the seat beside her.

“Language, Miss Evans. Ladies don’t cuss.”

“Women cuss. I’d much rather be a woman than a lady.” She closed her eyes as the air rushed in through the windows. Her hair flew like streamers toward him, not long enough to reach him but enough to distract him.

He didn’t like feeling out of control. Being the fire chief meant he was in charge. Owning a ranch also meant he was in charge. Being investigated by an insurance company, by his ex-girlfriend no less, made him uncomfortable because he had no control. Sophie was in charge.

He didn’t like that. Not even a little.

She pulled out a fancy phone from her bag and started dialing. “I’m going to attempt to arrange for a tow truck to meet me in an hour. After I finish cataloging your paperwork, can you give me a ride back to my car?”

He wanted to say no. He wanted to say no so badly it danced on his tongue like a dark chocolate truffle.

“Fine but I want gas money,” was what came out of his mouth.

She threw up her free hand and snorted. “Of course you do.”

During her conversation with the tow truck driver, he could only hear her side of it. Judging by her expression, it wasn’t going well. He shouldn’t feel satisfied to hear her being annoyed with someone else.

He was anyway.

“You can’t be serious. What happens if someone needs a tow after the sun sets?” She tapped her hand on her knee in a quick staccato. “They call Kyle Blackwood to let him know they’ve abandoned their car. That’s efficient. Then what do they do?”

Dax choked back a laugh. Things were not done the same way in a small town as they were in the big city. She must’ve blocked it out, intentionally or not.

Sophie’s frown deepened. “What? I can’t—Oh hell, fine. It’s parked in front of Cindy’s.” Pause. “Yes, I know it burned. It doesn’t really matter why my car is there, does it?”

Dax shook his head. She must’ve also forgotten her manners in that big city. No doubt Myron, who owned the garage in town, had his back up by now.

“I don’t have a choice then, right?” A dramatic sigh. “Thanks.” She tapped the end call button on her phone.

“Trouble in paradise?” He tried really hard not to sound amused.

He didn’t succeed.

“Don’t be such an asshole, Dax.”

“Darlin’, what makes you think anyone in Tanger is going to hurry? It hasn’t changed a lick since you put us in your rearview mirror.” Dax gestured to the sleepy town passing by as he drove to the fire station.

“I didn’t want him to be in a hurry. I was just hoping for a tow today. He told me he has another tow, a tractor in a ditch down at the MacRae place.” She turned her face. “Apparently Myron is the tow truck driver in Tanger now. I shouldn’t be surprised, he always liked cars. I wasn’t sure if there
was
a tow truck in town. He did seem to take joy in telling me he gets off work in an hour and if I’d called ten minutes earlier he would’ve made it today.”

Her voice had softened, losing the edge. She almost sounded sad. Impossible. Sophie Evans was too hard to have any soft left in her.

“You didn’t know that.”

“I called you.” She turned back, her gaze confused. “Instead of calling for a tow to get my car fixed, I called
you
.”

“Oh.”

The silence stretched between them the rest of the way to the fire station. He couldn’t explain why she’d called him, except perhaps if she’d never gotten over him. That was a tantalizing thought he wouldn’t allow himself to own. He pushed it away.

When he pulled up to the firehouse, his best friend Lucas and his cousin Clint were washing the pumper. Both men turned to give him dirty looks until they caught sight of Sophie.

Clint’s brows went up and Lucas’s mouth dropped open. No doubt Dax would get an earful from both of them. When Sophie had crushed his heart, both men had kept him sane and helped him get over her. Dax would be lucky not to get punched for even talking to her.

It didn’t occur to him until they climbed out of the truck that things were worse than he realized. Sophie was stranded and it was past six o’clock in the evening.

What else could go wrong?

Sophie was surprised she hadn’t caught on fire as soon as Clint and Lucas spotted her. The anger and dislike pulsed through the air, slapping her hard enough to make her flinch. The boys always stuck together. Bros before hos. Ridiculous behavior for grown men. It had been five years since she left Tanger. Did they never grow up?

She hefted the messenger bag on her shoulder and ignored the two men scowling at her. Stepping back into her childhood hometown fit like a dress that was two sizes too small. Both of them blamed her for the bad break-up between she and Dax. Not that it was any of their business, but everybody knew everybody’s secrets in Tanger. Sophie needed to ignore them as she did when they’d tried to scam her Twinkie in third grade. If she were lucky she wouldn’t be in town long enough to have a conversation with them.

“Is the boardinghouse still open?” she blurted.

Dax tucked the truck keys into his pocket, pulling the fabric across his manly bits. Damn but the man was definitely still packing. She had a flash of what his skin tasted like and a shiver raced up her spine. Her nipples pebbled and she hoped like hell her arms would cover the telltale signs of arousal.

“No. The Fosters divorced and the boardinghouse had to be sold, but nobody bought it. Been empty at least six months.” He nodded at Lucas and Clint and they turned their ire on him. “I’m showing the insurance investigator the receipts for the kitchen equipment that Hannah dropped off.”

“You dropped this chore on us and then you show up with
her
?” Clint was the grumpy Blackwood. He had a permanent frown and rarely had a female willing to put up with him for more than a few months.

“And why is Miss Priss investigating the fire?” Lucas smirked and she wanted to kick him in the balls. He had always teased her to the point she could happily strangle him. The stupid nickname was leftover from middle school, for pity’s sake.

“Miss Evans works for the insurance company. It’s her job.” Dax turned and entered the fire station.

“You need a new insurance company.” Clint’s snarky comment stung.

“I don’t plan on doing anything but my job.” She turned to follow Dax. “And I’m very good at my job, for your information.”

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment and anger at herself. The men had reminded her of how low her self-confidence had been when she was younger. Ridiculous to let them get to her at all, much less in under two minutes.

The fire station was cooler than the sun-soaked outside. The building had been constructed eighty years earlier of cinder blocks so it remained relatively cool during the summer. It was still damn sticky though. Maybe somebody ought to turn up the AC a bit more. Her shirt stuck to her skin while her under-boob sweat dampened the fabric. Fun times.

She walked past the wall of pictures, certificates and such. One photo caught her eye and she stopped. Stared.

Holy shit.

Dax in his turnout suit with other firefighters at what appeared to be a fundraiser for the volunteer fire department. He also wore his helmet, boots and no shirt.

No. Shirt.

Sweet God in heaven, the man was perfectly formed. Golden brown hair decorated the slabs of muscle. The man was in substantial physical shape. He was much bigger than he’d been at twenty-two.

She managed to swallow and walk on, leaving the delicious, tempting, staggering image behind her.

It had been over a year since she’d had sex. That was the only explanation for her foolishness over a picture of a man who had been her first lover, and her first love. She would not, could not, get into bed with him for any reason. Ever.

Her resolve restored, she stepped farther into the building. When she’d left Tanger, Dax had been a new firefighter. Something to challenge him outside of running a ranch. He’d taken over for his father, who’d developed lung cancer after a lifetime of smoking. Both as ranch owner and firefighter, which was tradition of Blackwoods that stretched back over a hundred years.