The Last of The Red Hot Firefighters (Red Hot Reunions Book 1) (9 page)

But as soon as her eyes adjusted to the dim light in the honky-tonk, her confidence took a hit so severe not even the cheery Christmas lights threaded through the swinging wooden gates that separated the tables from the empty dance floor could lift her spirits.

There, milling around a long buffet next to the bar, was most of the Summerville Fire Department, minus Jamison—a detail for which Naomi silently gave a prayer of thanks. The firefighters were laughing it up over subs, buffalo wings, and a massive veggie plate, as a harried waitress rushed around refilling drinks.

Jake held a half-empty glass of beer, the liquid inside so dark it looked like it would put hair on his chest if he didn’t have plenty already. Which Naomi knew he did—the perfect amount, enough to be manly, but not so much that it crossed the line into Sasquatch territory. His chest hair was as perfect as the cock she couldn’t quit thinking about.

She shifted uncomfortably, wondering if the erotic images dancing in her brain were showing on her face. Of course, even if she were hiding her thoughts from the general population, the moment she made eye contact with Jake, the jig would be up. Jake had always known when she was thinking frisky thoughts. “Sex eyes,” he’d called it, swearing that the expression on her face read like an engraved invitation.

An invitation that, in the past, he’d never been able to resist.

But Naomi knew he’d resist now. He’d probably resist so strongly he’d run out the back door and she’d never hear from him again.

She couldn’t do this. She definitely had to leave. She couldn’t face Jake until she had her libido under control and a plan to win a second chance with him firmly in place.

“Let’s go somewhere else,” she said, snagging Maddie by the arm and Mick by a handful of his old Summerville High School homecoming sweatshirt.

“But they have the best Bloody Marys,” Mick said, more loudly than Naomi would have preferred.

“They have good ones at
Mark’s Place
, too,” Maddie said, turning back to Naomi with a wide-eyed look that made it clear she’d seen Jake. “Come on, Mick, we—”

“Mick Whitehouse!” The masculine voice came from across the room by the firefighters’ gathering, causing Naomi to cringe.

They’d been spotted.
Rats!

“What’s up, man?” the voice—which belonged to a youngish-looking firefighter with a buzz cut and shoulders as broad as Mick’s—called out. “I haven’t seen you in years.”

“Ben! I didn’t know you were still in town,” Mick said, bounding across the room like an overgrown puppy.

A big, dumb puppy who had just sentenced his older sister to several minutes—or, god forbid, an
afternoon
—of suffering, depending on how long Mick planned on playing catch-up with his friend.

Naomi slowly shifted her gaze to meet Jake’s, knowing he must have seen her by now. She braced herself for the worst, but when her eyes met his across the room, he didn’t grimace or sneer or freeze her out with the power of his cold, immovable “I feel nothing” face.

Instead, he held her gaze for a beat and then…he smiled.

It wasn’t a big smile or a particularly warm one, but it was a smile. A small, beautiful, confusing-but-appreciated gesture that gave Naomi the courage to pull in a deep breath, take Maddie by the arm, and cross the room to join the SFD’s holiday party with hope for the future.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Jake

As Naomi and her sister crossed the room, Jake took another long pull of the lukewarm Guinness he’d been nursing for the past half hour, and prepared to make amends.

After the ridiculous way he’d behaved Friday night, some damage control was certainly in order.

By Saturday morning, he had felt like a fool for bailing on his and Naomi’s first date. By Sunday, he’d promised himself that he would head over to the bakery and apologize—he and Naomi had three more dates and he was determined none of them would end with him running like a coward. But by the time his team had the roadside fire on Route Twelve contained and returned to the firehouse Sunday evening,
Icing
had been locked up tight.

Monday was one of his days off, but Jake had stopped by the firehouse this morning for an hour to do some paperwork, anyway, hoping to be there when Naomi and her partners opened up. But when the time came to leave for the station’s annual holiday lunch and the Whitehouses still hadn’t showed, Jake had decided to let himself off the hook and try again tomorrow.

If there was ever a time to give himself a break, this was it.

Jenny had passed exactly two years ago today. That morning, he’d kissed her good-bye and teased her about wearing a Santa Claus sweatshirt her Meemaw had made her to go shopping; that afternoon he’d been called to identify her body.

On the first anniversary of her death, he’d spent the entire day at a megaplex movie theater in Atlanta, hopping from film to film, hiding out from everyone he knew, letting himself get caught up in stories other than his own. But today he hadn’t felt like hiding.

He’d started the morning by taking flowers to the cemetery and having a long talk with Jenny, filling her in on all the news from the last time he’d visited a few months before. He even told her about Naomi moving back to town, and how mixed-up it had him feeling. Jenny knew that Naomi was a big part of Jake’s past, even though his wife hadn’t moved to Summerville until she was in her twenties and never witnessed the high school romance that had defined Jake’s teen years.

Talking to Jenny had soothed something inside of him. For the first time since her passing, he’d felt uplifted, instead of depressed by a visit to her grave. He knew Jenny would have told him to relax, and that the opportunity to apologize to Naomi would present itself when the time was right—Jenny had been a big believer in letting things work themselves out, and not pushing people or situations too hard.

But now Naomi was here, and the chance to start fresh with her had fallen into his lap, the way Naomi used to fall into his lap when they were younger.

Back in high school, Naomi would burst into his bedroom while he was studying and plunk herself down on his lap, inserting herself between him and his computer, refusing to let him concentrate on chemistry homework or English papers or anything serious until she’d had her fill of him. Lyle Hansen, Jake’s dad, had been too busy to pay attention to whether or not his boys had girls in their bedrooms—one of the upsides of being raised by a single parent. From the time Jake was sixteen, he’d been free to shut his bedroom door, lock it tight, and make love to Naomi until they were both limp and breathless and his sheets smelled of her perfume.

Jake took another drink, forcing away thoughts of a naked Naomi. Thoughts like that were the
opposite
of relaxing, and a good way to ensure he made a fool of himself all over again.

“Hey,” Naomi said, casting an uncertain glance his way as she and her sister came to stand beside him. “Work party?”

“Yep,” he said in what he hoped was a pleasant tone. “We have it here every year. Best buffalo wings in Georgia.”

“Really? In the entire state?” Maddie’s eyebrows lifted skeptically. “That’s a big claim.”

“As far as I’m concerned, there’s none that can compare,” Jake said. “And I pride myself on being a man who knows his wings.”

Maddie unwound her arm from Naomi’s. “I’m going to go order us a plate.”

“Have some of ours,” Jake said, motioning to the buffet. “We have plenty, and friends of the station are always welcome. Especially friends who bring over cookies.”

“Oh yeah? So you liked those, did you?” Maddie asked, a gleam in her eye.

“Loved them,” Jake said with a smile. He’d always had a soft spot for Naomi’s little sister. She had been a sweet kid, and clearly grown into an even sweeter woman. “They were the best cookies I’ve ever had. God’s truth.”

Maddie clapped her hands, clearly pleased. “Oh, good, I’m so glad. They’re my secret weapon.”

“Maddie’s cookies could bring about world peace,” Naomi said. “If we could just get everyone to sit down and eat those cookies together, they’d see how perfect life is and never fight again.”

Jake chuckled, taking note of the way Naomi’s eyes flicked uncertainly to his face at the sound. She was obviously expecting a repeat performance of the “Jake the Jerk” show, but he wasn’t going to give it to her. After lying awake most of Friday night, thinking back on the fool he’d made of himself, Jake had to admit that he hadn’t been civil the way he’d promised, and that was something he intended to remedy.

“Jamison!” Ben shouted Jake’s brother’s name with the same unbridled enthusiasm that he’d shouted Mick Whitehouse’s, proving Ben had the alcohol tolerance of an insect and was already tipsy after one Bloody Mary.

Jake lifted his beer in his brother’s direction by way of greeting. Jamison’s smile slipped when he saw who was standing next to Jake, but he recovered quickly, waving to Naomi and Maddie before clasping Ben’s uplifted hand and settling into conversation on the opposite side of the buffet.

“All right, I’m going hunting for wings,” Maddie said, turning back to her sister. “You want to come with?”

“No,” Naomi said, a tremble in her voice. “You go ahead. I’m going to wait and have a salad or something once we get a table.”

“Salad on your day off?” Maddie wrinkled her nose. “Whatever floats your boat, sis, but I’m going for the good stuff.” As soon as Maddie stepped away to fetch a plate of wings, Jake shifted to face Naomi, turning his back on the rest of the party.

“I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry about Friday night,” he said in a voice he hoped was soft enough not to be overheard by his coworkers, all of whom had been none-too-subtly inquiring as to why they hadn’t seen him at the fair. “You were right. I was being a grouch. A childish grouch.”

Naomi’s lips curved, but the ghost of a smile vanished quickly. “I want to apologize, too. I’m stubborn and bossy and I
do
want to control things. You were right and…I’m sorry we fought.”

“Apology accepted,” Jake said, but Naomi still looked nervous, so he added, “and I hope you’ll accept mine, and my promise to be on my best behavior for our next date.”

“Oh.” Naomi’s eyebrows lifted as her eyes flicked from Jake to the people gathered behind him and back again. “Okay. Apology accepted. I’m…I’m glad we’re good.”

“You sound glad,” he said with a laugh, doing his best to lighten the moment. “Are you okay?”

“I’m just surprised,” she said. “I didn’t think…I mean, I thought you were finished with me.” She winced. “With the dates, I mean. Finished with the dates.” She pulled in a deep breath, but didn’t look any calmer for it.

Jake studied her over the rim of his glass as he took another drink of his beer. She was definitely anxious. He must have been an even bigger asshole than he’d thought, which meant a bigger apology was in order.

“Listen,” he said, stepping close enough that he knew his words would stay between him and Naomi. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since Friday night.”

“You have?” She looked up, focusing her full attention on him for the first time since she walked into the room.

Jake met her eyes—so clear and blue and bottomless a man could drown in them—and immediately knew why she’d been acting so weird. Naomi had sex eyes, the worst case he’d seen in years.

Back when they were kids, he’d assumed sex eyes were a Naomi thing, that she was the only girl who got a certain telltale look that let him know what she wanted and how she wanted it. But as he’d gained experience, Jake had learned that most women had some version of sex eyes, though none as easy for him to read as Naomi’s.

One look in Naomi’s eyes and he’d always known exactly what she wanted—sweet and easy, drawn out with lots of teasing, hard and fast with enough force that both of them were moaning in pleasure-pain by the time they were finished.

Right now, she looked like she’d be up for all three, one right after the other.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Jake

Jake swallowed—hard—and fought for control, refusing to acknowledge the swelling inside his jeans.

Naomi wanted him. Big deal. He wanted her, too. They would probably always be attracted to each other, but that didn’t mean they had to act on it. In fact, that was the last thing he intended to do.

And so he pretended not to read Naomi’s heated look and said—

“I was thinking that there’s no reason we can’t be friendly.” He struggled to retain his focus as Naomi’s tongue slipped out to dampen her lips. “Like you said, if you’re going to make Summerville your home, I should get used to it. I don’t want to be a grouch every time we cross paths. I went to visit my wife’s grave today and—”

“I’m so sorry.” Naomi’s hand flew to hover above her lips for a moment as her brows drew together. “Today’s the anniversary, isn’t it? I can’t believe it slipped my mind.”

“It’s okay,” Jake said, meaning it. He wanted Jenny to be remembered for the way she lived, not the day she died. “Anyway, I had a long think, and realized Jenny wouldn’t have wanted me to be a grouch. She was very anti-grouch.”

“From what I’ve read, she sounded wonderful,” Naomi said.