The Last of The Red Hot Firefighters (Red Hot Reunions Book 1) (5 page)

“A boor, am I?” Mick asked in a fairly decent imitation of an English accent for a guy who had majored in computer programming. “My, aren’t you the fancy one, Miss Naomi.”

Naomi narrowed her eyes in Mick’s direction. “I’m going to fancy you in a minute. Gulp your cookies down and get back to work, slave. Make me cabinets. I want to be able to start organizing the kitchen by next week.”

“Speaking of organizing kitchens,” Aria said, licking melted chocolate off her finger before turning to dig through her purse. “I brought a copy of
Ever After’s
monthly supply budget. I know
Icing
won’t be doing any main courses, but I thought it would at least give us a starting point so we can figure out how much we need to budget for our first quarter.”

“Numbers,” Maddie moaned. “My head hurts already.”

“Mine, too,” Aria said, patting Maddie on the arm. “But it has to happen.”

“No, it doesn’t. I can make all that pain go away, ladies,” Naomi said breezily as she slid off her stool and wandered over to the picture window overlooking Main Street. “Just say the word and Naomi Whitehouse Industries will supply that pesky start up budget, and a bookkeeper to boot.”

“Don’t tempt me.” Maddie sighed.

Aria said something in response, but Naomi didn’t quite catch it.

She was too busy catching her breath.

There, across the street, Jake Hansen was unpacking a sack lunch at a picnic table on a patch of grass to one side of the firehouse. With his dark sunglasses on and his brown hair hanging messily over his forehead, he looked like a movie star hiding from the paparazzi, and Naomi ought to know.

She’d dated her fair share of movie stars. For a small town girl with more curves than any starlet working in Hollywood, Naomi had hooked up with a number of Hollywood elite, proving her theory that real men liked curves and also women who could cook the hell out of a
coq au vin
.

She’d had a great time jet-setting to movie premiers and club openings with her string of celebrity heartthrobs, but when it finally came time to settle down, she’d chosen a perfectly ordinary real estate investor—if you considered owning half the state of Florida ordinary. Caleb Moreno wasn’t famous, but he was the only man Naomi had wanted to keep around since breaking up with Jake a week after getting her GED.

By the time her thirtieth birthday had come and gone, Naomi had been ready to settle down, but none of the guys she met measured up to her idea of a “forever man.” Before she met Caleb, Naomi had begun to think she’d never find Mr. Right. But then her ex had walked onto the set of a television special she was filming at one of his historic Florida mansions, and she’d been hooked. With his exotic good looks, skill in the bedroom, and killer sense of humor, Caleb had checked off a good number of her “forever man” boxes. They had dated for a year before becoming engaged and, not long after, pregnant.

Naomi had been over the moon. At first, Caleb had pretended to be excited about the baby, too, but within weeks of hearing the news, he’d started working late. First, it was three nights a week, then five, and then Naomi could never seem to get him on the phone after four o’clock in the afternoon. She had to resort to texting his assistant to find out if she should even bother setting a place for him at the supper table.

She’d been so thrilled about the baby that she’d chalked Caleb’s absence up to a resurgence in the real estate market, but looking back Naomi could see the signs that he’d planned to leave. Caleb loved glitz and glamour and shiny new things. Naomi had fulfilled those needs longer than most of his girlfriends, but in the end, he’d been glad to escape without a child to complicate their breakup. He’d made that obvious when he’d elected to skip Grace’s funeral.

Naomi took a deep breath, pushing away the sad thoughts.

This was the perfect chance to have that one-on-one chat with Jake. The last thing she needed was to keep dwelling on things that made her emotional. She wanted to offer Jake her compassion for
his
loss, after all, not sink into a dark place thinking about her own.

After a quick glance in her mirrored compact to check for caramel stuck in her teeth, Naomi smoothed on a coat of lipstick, ran her fingers through her hair, and headed for the exit, calling out—

“I’ll be right back!”

She pushed through the door, pretending she didn’t hear Maddie asking her where she was going.

Outside, the winter air was crisp and clean-smelling, but not nearly as cold as it had been last night. Naomi could feel the cool wind nipping at her cheeks, but it wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, with the sun shining and tinsel-covered garland glittering above Main Street, the day was gorgeous, the kind of early December afternoon that made the New Year and new beginnings feel like they were just around the corner.

Naomi held tight to the thought as she hurried across the quiet street, and aimed herself at Jake Hansen.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Naomi

Naomi moved quickly, with the determination of a woman on a mission of good will, but she was still a good ten feet away when Jake looked up.

It was like they had a psychic connection.

Or like he could smell her coming, the way bees and dogs smell fear.

Although Naomi couldn’t see Jake’s eyes through his dark sunglasses, she knew he was looking at her. She could read it in his stiffening shoulders, in the jaw that clenched down around his last bite of sandwich, and in the hand that fisted his brown lunch bag into a ball. She could feel his attention on her—making her pulse speed and her mouth go dry—even when he hurled the wadded up bag toward the trashcan at the end of the table, acing the shot on the first try.

“Two points!” Naomi said, lifting an enthusiastic arm into the air, committing to the lame gesture before she could think better of it.

But she was too nervous to play it cool. That sky-before-a-lightning-storm energy that had leapt between her and Jake last night at the auction—singeing everyone unlucky enough to be in its path—was sizzling in the air, making the hair at the back of her neck stand on end.

Obviously Jake wasn’t any more pleased to see her today than he had been yesterday, or the day before. She half expected him to bolt before she reached the picnic table, but he stayed put as she hopped the curb and crossed the crunchy brown grass.

“Hi,” she said, licking her lips and forcing a smile. She hoped he would say something and put her out of her misery, but she wasn’t surprised when he simply sat there chewing his last bite, watching her from behind his dark lenses.

“Okay, so, you obviously weren’t happy that I bid on you last night at the fundraiser,” she pushed on, voice beginning to shake. “And I get that. I totally do.”

Naomi pulled in an uneasy breath. The weight of Jake’s silent attention was an anvil tied around her ankle, pulling her to the bottom of the ocean to drown. This was even worse than she had thought it would be, but she forced herself to keep going. She’d made it this far; there was no turning back now.

“I wanted to let you know that it’s okay if you want to call it off,” she said. “I mean, I…I didn’t mean to pry, but you know how small towns are…” She waved a hand in the air, including all of Summerville in the nervous gesture, fighting to ignore the fact that her heart had suddenly moved from her chest to her throat.

“So, um, I…I wanted you to know that I know about your wife, about what happened, and that I am so, so sorry for your loss.” Naomi threaded her fingers together and squeezed tight, determined not to wave her arms around like a coked-up air traffic control worker while offering her condolences. “I know this must be a really hard time of year for you and I totally understand if you want to back out of the whole date thing. I’m still happy to donate the money and I—”

“Did Jamison put you up to this?” Jake asked, his voice deeper, and even sexier sounding that she remembered.

It was the kind of voice that could sell luxury cars, hundred-dollar chocolate bars, and gazillion-thread-count sheets. Naomi could feel its rich vibration brushing over her skin, tracing a path down her spine, making her raw nerves prickle with awareness.

“No. N-not at all,” Naomi stammered, struggling to maintain her focus. “No one put me up to anything. I just, I wanted you to know how sorry I am.”

Jake smiled, a hard smile that made the afternoon feel colder. “Honestly, Naomi, I couldn’t care less what you’re sorry about.”

Naomi blinked, too shocked by the harshness in his tone to immediately respond. Jake was never rude. Jake never said an unkind word to anyone. Ever.

But maybe he’d changed. Or maybe he knew more about what Naomi had been up to the night before she left Summerville than she had assumed.

He
had
mentioned Jamison’s name.

What if Jamison had told him? What if Jake knew that not only was Naomi a coward who didn’t have the guts to end their three-year relationship face-to-face, but a brother-kisser, too?

At least, Naomi hoped all she and Jamison had done that night was kiss. They’d both been so drunk she couldn’t be sure. Considering she’d woken up in a sleeping bag with him the next morning, she suspected they might have done more than make out, but at least no clothes had been removed.

“It just happened” was the hallmark cry of brother-kissers everywhere, but Naomi didn’t know how else to account for the spectacular lapse in judgment that led to her and Jamison being together.

The encounter wasn’t premeditated. She’d only asked Jamison to meet her at the Hansen’s hunting cabin so she could give him the good-bye letter she’d written Jake. When Jamison realized what it was—and that Naomi was planning to leave without telling Jake good-bye face-to-face— they’d fought. Fighting morphed into bitching about how much they both wanted out of Summerville, which led to throwing back shots of cheap vodka leftover from the deer season, and not long after there had been kissing.

Naomi had been barely eighteen; Jamison had been sixteen. They’d both been young and restless and drunk and things had just…happened.

When they woke up the next morning—heads pounding and mouths full of cotton—they’d both been horrified. They’d sworn to never, ever tell Jake what had happened. Never. No matter what. They both loved Jake too much to hurt him by confessing to something that shouldn’t have happened, and would
never
happen again.

But maybe sometime in the past fifteen years Jamison had changed his mind about keeping his mouth shut.

Fifteen years—it’s been
fifteen
years! Even if Jamison spilled his guts, surely you’ve all grown up enough to get over it by now.

You were two dumb teenagers, not much more than children.

And children do stupid, thoughtless things.

You’re not that person anymore and you haven’t been for a long, long time. You’re a grown woman who only wants what’s best for you and Jake—peace in this small town.

Strengthened by her thoughts, Naomi stood up a little straighter. “That’s fine,” she said, tipping her head respectfully in Jake’s direction. “You don’t have to care. I was hoping that we could be friends, but if we can’t, a civil relationship is fine with me. I just want to make peace and leave the past behind us.”

“Sounds good.” Jake slid his long legs out from beneath the bench and stood. “So I’ll meet you at the entrance to the fair at six o’clock.”

“What?” Naomi frowned, wondering what she’d missed.

“I’ll meet you for our date at six o’clock,” he said, stepping closer, until she was forced to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact—or rather—sunglass contact.

Jake had grown since high school. He was taller than he’d been at eighteen, back when she fit under his chin perfectly when they hugged, and broader, too—details she hadn’t noticed during their ill-fated encounter at the A&P, or when he was on stage last night. Even in a navy blue Summerville Fire sweatshirt and jeans, Jake looked like the kind of guy who ran
into
burning buildings while others ran out, who lifted hunks of timber off trapped victims and smashed through walls while saving lives. His presence was so powerful it made Naomi’s bones feel wobbly at the center and other parts of her tingle in ways she didn’t want to think about.

Ways they hadn’t tingled in months…

It had taken time for her body to recover from the early labor, and even when it had, the rest of her had been too focused on healing to think about men in
that
way. It wasn’t just her body that had been through hell this past year; her heart and soul had been ravaged, too. Truth be told, after Caleb walked out when she needed him the most, Naomi hadn’t been sure she’d ever be interested in a man in
that
way again.

But of course she would be. What was that saying—time heals all wounds?

Although at the moment, Naomi wasn’t thinking about the healing power of time, she was thinking about how good it would feel to step into Jake’s arms, lean her cheek against his solid chest, and inhale the comforting Jake smell of him. How good it would feel to be held by a man who knew what it was like to lose someone he loved, and to hold him right back.