Playing with Fire (12 page)

She was walking between two resort hotels to get to the beach when she felt something damp on the back of her calf. She looked down and saw a shaggy black-and-white dog, a puppy, really, playing tag with her flip-flop.

“Hey, pooch, what are you doing?” She put her hand out and he licked it eagerly, making her laugh. “Where’s your home?”

He looked up at her with big puppy-dog eyes and she could swear the dog was sad. Or hungry. Maybe both. She could see every one of his ribs and there was no spare meat on his tummy. “You hungry? I don’t have anything for you.”

He walked alongside her, tail wagging.

“You need to go home and get some dinner.”

The dog did no such thing, though. He stayed close to her and matched her pace as she angled north. She kind of enjoyed the comfortable companionship, but soon found her thoughts heading right back to Derek.

He’d taken off that morning as soon as he’d finished showering, even though she’d offered him breakfast—never mind that it wasn’t a nutritionally sound breakfast. It was better than what he normally ate, which consisted of coffee and little else, she would bet.

He hadn’t had to be at work for another two hours, but he’d run off, anyway. Undoubtedly because of what had happened between them.

Remembering how her body had reacted to him when it wasn’t supposed to, even before they’d touched, her face heated. Her intention had been to be the friend he needed. She’d never acted so boldly and would never, ever have the guts to do so again. Not after his rejection.

So back to being friends and friends only, regardless of their intimacy this morning. She’d given him the chance to distract himself from his problems, and he’d refused. She would have to find another way to help him. Back to the original plan, whatever that was.

She’d failed so far in getting him to open up, to talk through some of his grief. Nothing had changed for him since she’d been here. He still wasn’t doing anything but working and exercising compulsively. Brooding. Being antisocial.

Getting drunk off his butt.

She was down to just a couple of weeks left on the island before she planned to head back to Dallas and really dig in to her project. She hated to face Derek’s mom and tell her she’d been right. Macey hadn’t been able to help him.

Which left her with a lot of work to do in a short time.

Before she realized it, she was walking past The Shell Shack. Derek was working, she knew, so she avoided going in. She wasn’t ready to face him, but she would get over that soon, figure out how to salvage her trip and somehow get through to him.

Though she stayed far enough away from the bar that no one inside would spot her, that didn’t stop her from straining to see what Derek was doing. As usual, her heart skipped at the sight of him. She wondered if that reaction would ever stop.

The dog nuzzled her hand as if to remind her she should keep moving, and she reached down to pet him. “We need to find out if you have a home,” she said. She turned around and headed back toward her apartment, and the dog stuck to her side as if they’d walked the beach together for years.

“You’re an awesome dog, aren’t you?” He licked her hand again. “You’d be good for Derek,” she said thoughtfully. Maybe a pet would bring him out of himself, make him think about something besides the fire that had killed Julie.

It was worth a shot, whether this dog was available or not. Macey decided she’d hang some fliers to locate the pup’s owner, and if she hadn’t heard in a few days, she’d set him up with a brand-new owner. Though Derek wouldn’t in a million years admit it, the two of them, pooch and man, needed each other. If she couldn’t make him come round, maybe someone of the canine persuasion could.

He glanced over at Macey now as she smiled at a group of customers and handed out their drink order. If The Shell Shack survived, she’d be the reason. She was a natural. Just what the bar needed, but the last thing
he
needed. If he hadn’t made a promise to Gus, Derek would be damn tempted just to walk away from it, before he did something stupid.

Like touch Macey again.

As Derek delivered a burger and fries to someone at the outer counter, his uncle appeared in the doorway on the beach side. He shuffled over to his usual place and situated himself on the stool.

Derek made his way back behind the bar. “I was starting to think you’d turned up your toes,” he said.

“No sirree,” Gus said heartily. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Derek set a full glass of whiskey in front of him. “Don’t go putting words in my mouth. Somehow this place survived for three days without you, though.”

Gus nodded but didn’t say anything. The look on his face was pure cat-ate-the-canary, and Derek wondered what’d gotten into the old man.

“You’re gonna make me ask, aren’t you?” Derek refilled his own soft drink, feeling parched after serving the lunch crowd, which had just cleared out fifteen minutes before. “Ask what?”

“Where’ve you been? Not like you to miss three days of riding my ass.”

“You missed me.” His uncle almost seemed to glow.

“Terribly. If you hadn’t showed up today I was going to drive to the home to see what the heck happened to you.”

“Love happened to me, boy.”

Derek raised his eyebrows skeptically and leaned his elbows on the bar, glad for the break in customers. He couldn’t help noticing when Macey went outside to wipe down tables. He had to tear his eyes away from the subtle sway of her hips as she walked.

“Thelma is making me a happy man.”

“Glad to hear it. You could’ve brought her around to the bar, you know.”

“Could’ve. Didn’t. You don’t need me, anyway. This place doesn’t need me.”

Derek studied Gus. “This is your life, man. Has been for as long as I can remember. What gives? You dumping us?”

Gus took a sip of whiskey and shook his head slowly. “It’s time for me to move on. Not from you, of course, but from this old girl.” He patted the counter. “You and your woman there…” He gestured toward Macey, who was wiping off the counter around the outside of the bar now. “You’ve got it under control. I’m okay with moving on.”

Derek straightened and tapped the wood surface several times, deciding to ignore the part about “his woman.” It was true that with Macey there they really didn’t need Gus’s guidance. Hopefully the momentum would carry on when she left, too. What he questioned, though, was whether his uncle would be okay without the bar. “I wish you the best with Thelma. I’d still like to meet her.”

“You will, boy. Maybe we’ll all go to a fancy dinner.”

“Maybe we will.”

Macey came back around to Derek’s side of the bar and bent over to wring out her towel. Dammit. When she looked like that, wearing short shorts that hugged her bottom perfectly, he had no prayer of
not
remembering the way her body had felt the other day in her bedroom.

Gus chuckled. “So that’s how it is then.”

Derek looked at him. “What’s how it is?” Surely Gus wouldn’t open his big mouth with Macey so close.

He simply nodded, glanced at Macey and back at Derek, and grinned like the ornery old fart he was. “I’m on to you, boy.”

“Nothing to be on to.”

Derek might be obsessed with Macey’s body—and what red-blooded male wouldn’t be?—but he wouldn’t allow himself to feel anything beyond friendship and maybe a touch of ill-advised lust here and there.

It was harder to recall the image of Julie now, but he did. Forced it. He needed to. Needed to remind himself that the woman he’d cared about enough to marry was dead, and he was in no position to think of any one else.

But no one had. She’d plastered fliers everywhere and had yet to receive a call.

Today was her day off and Derek worked until six. Then, unbeknownst to him, he was going to become a puppy papa, like it or not. Macey was hedging her bets on “not.”

But she had faith. Burnaby would win him over. He had to, because Macey was not supposed to have animals in her apartment and she’d almost gotten caught by the landlord twice. Evan and Clay had helped her out of one jam by playing along with her story that she was a dog-sitter and had come home because of an emergency. They’d let the dog out periodically while she was at work as well, on the days they weren’t at the station.

“Twenty more minutes and you get to meet your new master.”

She was uneasy at the thought of going to Derek’s. They hadn’t been together outside of work since Monday morning, and of course hadn’t discussed their Big Mistake.

She had to refer to it that way in her mind, even though, if given the chance, she wouldn’t take back anything she’d done. The only thing she’d change if she could was the last bit. She wanted her happy ending, even though it wasn’t going to happen. Having a taste of Derek was just enough to torture her and make her want more.

“Let’s take a walk on the beach, Burn.”

The dog hurried over to her, tail wagging, as if he could understand. More likely he noticed the leash and knew that meant a walk. He was a smart pup and she would love to keep him if she had a place for him. But she’d be staying with her mom in Dallas to save money, and her mom didn’t do dogs. She was allergic, so Macey had never been able to have a pet.

She bent down and attached the leash to his collar, then made a final stop at the mirror to make sure she looked okay. If pressed, she’d have to admit she’d spent too much time selecting her outfit—a denim miniskirt and a feminine, peach-colored cami with lace trim. Casual enough, she hoped, to pass for “just walking on the beach.” Her hair fell down her back, slightly messy, but it’d only get worse outside. Her cheeks had a tinge of pink from her lying out in the sun today, and she’d put minimal eye makeup on. She applied clear lip gloss, then slipped on her silver-beaded flip-flops. “Let’s go, puppy. Off to your new home.”

The dog looked up at her with those eager eyes and she hoped like crazy Derek was as affected by them as she was. If he refused to keep the dog, she had no idea what she’d do. She hadn’t dared to think about that, because frankly, this was her last idea for helping Derek, and her only idea for helping the dog.

Burnaby led her along at a good pace, as if he knew he had an important date. Before hitting the beach, they stopped at the island grocery store and bought steaks, potatoes, dog food, strawberry cheesecake and a few seasonings and kitchen items Derek wouldn’t have. Burnaby was hard to resist, but food should at least get them in the door if the dog didn’t melt his heart instantly. That would give Macey the opportunity to persuade Derek he needed a pet.

It was almost seven when Macey and Burnaby arrived at Derek’s condo. Her nerves were strung tight for too many reasons to count, but she led the dog around to the door on the street side and knocked. He’d presumably left it unlocked, as usual, but she wasn’t about to barge in with a dog.

“Hey,” Derek said when he opened the door. His hair was wet, as if he’d just showered. He wore a pair of old cargo shorts and held a white T-shirt in his hand. “What the…”

“Hi.” Macey attempted a relaxed smile, but he didn’t notice anything but the dog. “This is Burnaby.”

“Okay. Why is Burnaby here?”

“We brought dinner.”

His attention switched to the grocery bag in her left hand.

“Better. What’d you bring? I don’t smell any take-out.”

“That’s because we’re cooking it ourselves. Don’t look at me that way.” She walked past him with the dog, hurrying to the kitchen to set the bag down and give her aching arms a break.

“Macey, what’s up with the canine?” Derek called after her as she reached the counter.

“The
canine
has been my houseguest for a few days.”

“You can’t have dogs.”

“Yep. Didn’t you see the fliers?”

“What fliers?”

Best not to reveal her cards yet, she figured, and didn’t answer.

He joined her at the counter and began unloading the grocery bag. His hands caught her attention and she let herself remember the way they had scorched her bare skin in places few men had ever touched. She shook her head and busied herself going through his kitchen drawers and cabinets. “Where are your pans?”

“What pans?”

“Any pans. Something to use in the oven?”

“What oven?”

“This—” Macey looked at him and realized he was now giving her a hard time. “Pathetic bachelor. Forget the pans. Does your grill work?”

“What grill?”

She punched him lightly, deciding as she made contact that touching him in any way was a stupid idea. Then she saw that this time he was being serious.

“The grill. On your patio.” She walked toward the sliding door and nodded when she spotted it. “I take it you don’t know if it works.”

“You take it correctly. Never noticed it.”

“What do you eat?”

“Burgers. Shrimp. Whatever I pick up at the bar. What am I supposed to eat?”

“You’re having steak tonight if you can fire that baby up.”

Burnaby, whose leash she’d let go of, shook himself at that moment and scratched, drawing Derek’s attention back to him.

“What’s the dog eating?”

“You could share your steak with him.”

“Don’t hold your breath.”

“You starting that grill yet?”

“I’ll take a look at it.”

“Looking won’t cook your dinner.”

“Mace, that thing’s ancient. I’m not in the mood to have your firefighter buddies here on business.”

She rolled her eyes. Ever the firefighter, alert to dangers. Just proved he needed to get back to the career he’d been born to do.

He opened the door and Burnaby made a rush for it. Derek grabbed for him and Macey hollered the dog’s name—the one he didn’t recognize as his yet—but both were futile. Burnaby was on the loose.

“He likes the beach,” Macey explained, hurrying past Derek. “Come on. We need to catch him.”

Derek ambled outside, his hands in the pockets of his shorts. “You’re kidding.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” she called back to him. “Go get the dog treats out of the sack. Burnaby! Come here, boy!”

Seconds later, Derek joined her, opening the package of bone-shaped biscuits. Macey whistled and Burnaby paused to look at her, then took off in a wild semicircle.

“That dog needs some discipline,” Derek said as he slowly approached.

“A little puppy training and some love and attention from you will do the trick.”

Derek peered suspiciously at her then. “No. No way. No, no and more no, Macey. I’m not taking the dog.”

Oops
. That wasn’t how she’d hoped to bring up the subject. “He’s a good dog, Derek. Except when let loose on the beach. Burnaby, come here!”

This was a giant game for the puppy, who sprinted toward the water, away from Macey, then froze, snowy ears at attention, and changed direction. She made an other run for him, hoping to catch up with him and grab his collar, but he had other ideas.

It didn’t take long for her to get completely winded and frustrated. She bent over, bracing her weight on her knees, gasping for air.

In the distance, Derek squatted down, crinkled the plastic of the treat package and spoke in a normal voice to Burnaby. Ha. As if that would…

The traitor trotted over to Derek, stumpy little tail wagging, and gobbled the treat from his hand. Derek took hold of his collar as he knelt next to Burnaby, who promptly licked his face. Macey couldn’t help laughing.

“Your dog seriously lacks manners,” Derek called.

“Not my dog. He’s yours.”

“I don’t want a dog.”

“He wants you.”

Burnaby was going after the bag that Derek now held over his head. His tail whipped back and forth and he jumped up on Derek’s leg.

“Patience, mutt. I’ll give you another treat.
One.
First you have to go back inside.”

Macey jogged up to them. “See? You’re a natural.”

“Not taking the dog.”

She didn’t speak until they were safely inside with the door closed again. “I don’t know what else to do with him,” she finally said quietly. “I can’t keep him.”

“You’ll only be in your apartment for a little longer. You can take him with you.”

“Not to my mom’s.”

He nodded, as if now remembering the whole allergy thing. “I’ll check out the grill if you hold the monster back.”

She called the dog and offered him one more treat when he finally sat in front of her. “Good puppy.”

Derek slipped outside, shutting the door quickly.

“Derek’s nicer than he seems,” she told the dog. “Just wait. He’ll fall in love with you and give you lots of dog biscuits.”

Burnaby’s tail sped up again like a pendulum on speed.

“Hope you have a plan B,” Derek said as he came back in. “That grill is a serious fire hazard. I need to trash it completely.”

She knew better than to argue. Instead she headed back to the kitchen and pulled out the foil she’d brought. “I’ll figure something out.” The meat would eventually cook, she hoped. Potatoes, too. “We could have dessert first.”

The glimmer that flashed in his eyes made her realize her mistake in word choice. “I mean…I brought strawberry cheesecake. It’s ready to go. The main course might take a while.”

“I can wait for the meat.”

She cut her brain off from any puns that brought to mind. “You wouldn’t make me let Burnaby go, would you? The shelter’s overcrowded and he wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Mace, I’m barely able to take care of myself. How do you think I’m going to do with a mutt depending on me?”

“Step up to the challenge? Maybe be drawn out of this…nonexistence you’ve created for yourself?”

“My ‘nonexistence’ suits me just fine, thanks.”

She had the meat spread out on the broiler pan she’d finally located in the oven drawer, and was sprinkling seasonings on it. “Slice these up for us, please?” She set the potatoes she’d just washed in front of him. “You can look at keeping Burnaby as a favor to me, then, if that makes it more appealing.”

“I’m not in favor mode. I’m sorry, Macey. You of all people know that.”

“Look at that dog’s eyes and tell me you can force him out on the street.”

He seemed about to argue some more but then paused as if listening to something. Macey automatically glanced at Burnaby to make sure he wasn’t chewing on the furniture, as he was wont to do. The romp on the beach must’ve worn him out, though; he was sprawled on the beat-up couch, sound asleep.

She realized what Derek heard just as he made his way down the hall and opened the door onto the street. The siren of a fire truck blared in the distance, growing louder as it neared. It sounded as if it was coming directly down their street. Macey walked up behind Derek to watch. He didn’t even notice her—he was intent on the big red rig passing by.

She studied his face instead of the truck, and for a split second saw more than he would ever want her to see, she was sure.
Longing.

She tried to find something to say but was at a loss. Didn’t want to screw it up. This was too important. Instead, she returned to the kitchen and gave him some space. She heard the door shut softly and could tell by the silence that he’d gone outside. She wondered if he was going to follow the truck. At least he’d remembered his new escape-artist roommate and hadn’t left the door wide open.

Less than five minutes had passed when he came back inside. He took his place next to Macey and started methodically slicing the potatoes, the click of the knife on the cutting board emphasizing the lack of conversation.

“You can’t avoid it forever, Dare,” she finally said after sticking the meat in the oven.

“The dog? Pushing me isn’t going to—”

“Not the dog.” She hoisted herself up onto the counter next to him. “The fire.”

There went that shutter over his expression. It was subtle and yet so very plain to see that she wanted to shake him.

“If you’d talk to me about it, maybe I’d leave you alone.”

“Don’t want to talk about it.”

“It doesn’t take a shrink to see you’re all kinds of messed up. Understandably. I want to help you, Derek, in some little way. Any way.”

He kept cutting, not looking at her, not speaking, just slicing away in a slightly freaky even rhythm. Then he set the knife down on the counter, ran both hands over his face and walked away. Fantastic.

Now what?

She followed him into the spare bedroom-turned-workout room, where he was already lying down to bench some weights. She parked herself on a still-packed moving box against the wall and watched him do seven, eight, nine reps. He kept going and she counted silently, waiting. For what, she wasn’t sure. He wouldn’t speak, and she wasn’t sure what to say, but she was not going to let this pass by. She’d been careful—respectful—since she’d arrived on the island, and it was time to push. She crossed her legs at the ankles and leaned on the wall, watching his biceps flex underneath the sleeves of his Underdog T-shirt, fighting to remain indifferent to that body.