Burns So Bad (Smoke Jumpers) (25 page)

“Donovan men can be clueless,” Lily
agreed.

“All men can be.” Faye snorted and
that set them off on another round of laughter.

While
they discreetly gave Gia time to wipe her eyes—and, yep, she used the hem
of her T-shirt, sue her—Lily produced a stack of bridal magazines and
post-it notes and talk shifted to the double wedding Lily and Faye were
planning for October, after fire season was safely over. They spent the next
half hour laughing and dreaming about dresses and flowers. Gia didn’t know if
she’d still be here to see the wedding, but she could imagine it.

Lily and Faye would make beautiful
brides.

“We weren’t going to do the whole
bridesmaid thing.” Faye eyed her speculatively. “But I think we should rethink
that.”

Lily nodded. “We’d love for you to
be our maid of honor, Gia.”

Oh, God. She felt that seductive
stab of belonging. Of hope.

“I’d love to,” she said, when what
she meant was
If I’m here, yes, please.
Absolutely.

###

As soon as the girls cleared her
porch, climbing back into Lily’s POS beater and waving as they drove off to do
God knew what somewhere else, Gia grabbed her cellphone. Texting was both a
cop-out—and one hundred percent, bona fide dating behavior.

She tapped the message into her
phone and eyed it.
You wanna go on a
date?

Thought about it a minute and added
with me
to the end of the sentence.

Just in case Rio thought she was
setting him up with a girlfriend. Or was trying for some kind of strange heart-to-heart.

Across the street, the firefighters
backed the last truck into the bay, the door rolling shut with an impressive
clang. If her hostess had slept through a single fire in the last ten years,
color her surprised. On the other hand, she had a feeling Mary Ellen wanted to
know
every
time the firefighters took
off for a job. She hadn’t missed the chemistry between the other woman and the
fire chief.

Not really her business.

Even if she and Rio worked
something out between themselves.

She eyed the phone but, nope. Her
message hadn’t magically sent itself. She had to tap Send for that to happen.
And she was a chicken.

Maybe Rio was out on a training
run. Or packing gear. He could be jumping out of the DC-13 for all she knew,
because Jack had decreed shop talk off-limits for her. She appreciated his
concern—she really did—but she was going stir-crazy stuck here on
Mary Ellen’s porch while fire season rolled on without her.

And, like it not, they were both
part of this half-assed, part-time relationship.

A date.

How hard could it be to ask a man
she’d already slept with out on a date?

If she was very lucky, she might
even get him naked at the end of the night. Or before. Even during. She
apparently wasn’t very picky when it came to Rio Donovan. She’d take him
however and whenever she could.

Huh. She thought about that for a
moment. She probably should have minded more that she looked at him and started
thinking wicked thoughts about his big, gorgeous body. Rio probably wouldn’t
care. He’d had women chasing him for years and she’d seen the easy familiarity
with which he treated Mimi. He liked women. Women liked him. In Rio’s world, it
was that simple. She was the one who wanted to change the rules and take their
relationship somewhere other than fun land.

Starting with a date.

She eyed the phone.

“Wish me luck,” she muttered to no
one because, that’s right, she was alone. Before she could have more second
thoughts—or third, fourth or fifth thoughts—she tapped Send.

When Rio texted back five minutes,
she didn’t know whether she was happy or just plain scared. Because she had a
date. For tonight.

###

Peeing on the stick now was
cheating.

Plus, the marketing copy on the
back of the box said she needed to wait another week if she wanted reliable
results—and who wanted
unreliable
test results?

And yet she wanted to know.

Right now, damn it.

Fuck it. No one needed to know what
she’d done and the test wouldn’t be accurate anyhow. Probably. Even if there
was a baby, there was probably nowhere near enough hormone running around her
body to register two pink lines.

Which was why she’d bought not one,
not two, but
three
kits.

Target offered a discount on
multiples anyhow. She wasn’t sure if the store catered to the
trying-to-get-pregnant crowd or the truly desperate, but she’d bit. And bought.

She hid the surplus boxes behind a
stack of Always. Hopefully, that was deterrent enough. Not that she expected
people snooping in her bathroom, but it paid to be careful.

She’d also bought a new box of
condoms.

Wishful thinking on her part since
Rio had been hands off.

Taking the test required the
coordination of a gymnast, but she managed to aim where she needed to aim and
then laid the stick out on a piece of toilet paper on the counter. All the better
to hide the evidence with afterwards. One quick wad and toss and voila. No more
evidence.

While her iPhone counted down the
seconds, she kept busy, reorganizing the contents of the bathroom cupboard.
When the phone beeped, looking was harder than she’d thought it be.

This test didn’t count, she
reminded herself.

It was far too early.

She looked and, wouldn’t you know
it?

Two pink lines.

Two lines that didn’t, couldn’t
count.

###

By the time Rio brought her
home—and she really shouldn’t think of Mary Ellen’s place as
home—it was late. Well past midnight and creeping closer and closer to
those smudgy grey hours between late night and really, really early morning.
Mary Ellen had left the porch light on for them.

The movie had been good. Sitting
next to Rio in the darkened theater, bumping fingers and elbows with him as
they went after the popcorn in the enormous tub he’d bought? That was even
better. The movie had been an action flick, all car chases and explosions
paired with a few hot bedroom scenes. She and Rio had laughed and talked.

About the movie.

He’d been fun. Polite. And all
hands-off.

His hand cupped her elbow, helping
her negotiate the stairs with her crutches.

She hesitated. “Rio?”

“Yeah?” He turned his head and look
at her and, nope, she couldn’t read a thing on his face. She needed something…
but she had no idea what. The date had been fun, but it hadn’t filled the funny
ache and void she was growing.

“Never mind,” she said and turned
away.

She got her hand on the knob, but a
big, masculine hand slapped the wood above hers, holding the door shut.

“Wait up,” he growled.

Like she was going through that
door until he let her.

“We’re done.”

“Not yet.”

He grabbed her crutches and tossed
them onto Mary Ellen’s Adirondack chair.

“I need those,” she protested.

“Not for this. Stand on one foot.”
Turning her around, he got her back right against the wall. “You’re skipping
the best part of date night.”

“Which would be?”

“I walked you to your door.” He
paused, dragging a thumb down her cheek and over her jaw. His touch caused a shiver
she felt in all her good parts. “Now I get the goodnight kiss. If I do it
right, you might invite me in.”

“Is that how it works?” She was
breathless, but not due to her PSVT. Nope, the hitch in her breathing was all
due to the man pinning her in place. She ran her hands up his arms, loving the
way his eyes darkened.

He lowered his head until his mouth
almost touched hers. “It’s been a while since I dated, but I have it on good
authority.”

“Really? Because, technically, this
is your mother’s door.”

The kiss, when it came, was quick
and sweet, a simple brush of his lips over hers. “Jack swears it works.”

He swallowed her laugh with his
second kiss.

###

“Wow. I should probably tell Jack
thank you
.”

When he lifted his head, her dazed
look was impossibly sweet. And sexy. Christ, he touched her and he wanted her
beneath him. On top of him. With her, he wanted to act out the entire fucking
Kama Sutra.

He probably didn’t need to tell her
that. “You could say
thank you
to
me.”

“You did walk me to the door.” She
leaned her head back against the door and he wanted to kiss her again, just
because he could and she’d let him. Gia in an accommodating mood was sexier
than any fantasy his brain had come up with in years.

So he did.

Their third kiss was hotter and
wilder than their first. Except that they were still standing on his mother’s
porch, in full view of the entire town of Strong and the firefighters he’d told
to keep eyes on the house.
Hell
. He
reached behind her for the knob. Before this summer, that door had never been
locked. Strong wasn’t that kind of place. After the trouble Gia had run into,
however, that had changed. He slipped the key into the lock, turning the knob with
a quick flick of his wrist.

A truck backfired somewhere in the
distance, followed by a faint wash of sound from Ma’s as the bar door opened
and closed. There was a shitload of crickets too, the insect chatter part and
parcel of being home. Strong’s night song was real peaceful and definitely calmer
than the angry noise of a fire chewing up the mountainside.

“You’re thinking again,” Gia said.

That was a no brainer. He wanted to
make her happy. They still had four days until she took the pregnancy test, but
he was suddenly certain. They’d be starting a family together. Whatever it took, he needed to keep her
content and by his side. For the baby.

For him, if he was being honest.

“I’m thinking that I love you.”

Those three words were the right
words to say. Those words fix things, mean things, and any baby of his would have
a family full of love. That was non-negotiable.

She slapped a hand on his chest and
shoved him away.

“Is that part of the date night
walk to the door?”

“I love you,” he repeated.

“Uh-huh.” She stared up at him,
clearly skeptical. “I’m going to kick Jack when I see him next. His
relationship advice sucks. It’s a miracle he got Lily to agree to marry him.”

Well. Hell.

He went on the offensive.

“When someone tells you that he
loves you, calling bullshit isn’t the appropriate response.”

“Move,” she snapped. “I’m doing
playing games, Rio. Dating was a bad idea.”

“I’m not playing.” He was deadly
serious.

“You love me.” She shook her head.
“I don’t think so. Give me one reason.”

“You want a reason?”

“I’d prefer more than one.”

“I’ve got plenty of reasons. You’re
loyal to the core. You know how to laugh when life pisses all over you.” He
didn’t do words. Compliments, sure. But he was so far out of his league that it
wasn’t funny.

“You’re stuck on number three,” she
pointed out.

He figured telling her she was the
sexiest woman he’d ever laid eyes on wouldn’t up his believability quotient.

“So what if I don’t have a laundry
list of reasons? It doesn’t make my feelings for you any less true.”

Because those words were true. He
tested that idea and—wasn’t that a shocker? He meant every word. He
threaded his fingers through her short hair, cupping her head and holding her
in place. She didn’t get out of this so easily. He loved Gia.

Unfortunately, it appeared his feelings
were one-sided.

“Whatever.” She reached behind her
and opened the door, hopping under his arm to retreat inside. “I assume you’re
locking up?”

He followed, grabbing her crutches
from the chair. “We’re not done here.”

“And I say we are,” she insisted
stubbornly.

In answer, he flipped the lock. Big mistake on her part—now she was trapped inside with him
and working on one good foot—but it worked to his advantage. He kept
right on coming towards her too, until they were chest to chest.

“Rio?” That note of sexy hesitation
was back in her voice. Yeah, she knew she was in trouble. She didn’t sound like
she minded much either.

“No more talking,” he growled. “I
can work with that, Gia.”

Her bedroom or his? His, he
decided, although he’d be happy to move right in with her. He didn’t like
having separate rooms. Or separate lives. When he held her in his arms,
everyone was happy. Right?

Bending down, he scooped her off
her feet and brought her where he wanted her. His bed. One gentle bounce and
she was dead center.

###

“You just want to get into bed with
me. I can work with that.” Gia shifted backwards and patted the side of the
bed. Then she tugged—hard—on his wrist for good measure. As big as
he was, she wouldn’t move him much, but she wanted to make her point perfectly
clear. He let her, his jean-covered thighs bumping against her side of the bed.
That put her on eye level with his belt buckle. She figured it would take her
four seconds to undo that buckle and get her hands on him—which might be
three seconds too long. She wanted him undone and exposed, wanted him panting
and begging for her. Instead, she had Stoic Soldier standing beside her bed, all
hands-off like he thought a bottle of cold water was enough to solve her
problems.

Like
hell. She blamed him for a good share of the mess she was in, she realized.
Which was fine, because he was also more than capable of making it up to her.
The sensual fire lighting her up from the inside out shot to volcanic
proportions. Licking dry lips, she dropped her hand to his thigh. His muscles
tensed, and she was fairly certain he growled. Or cursed. She didn’t care
which. Thank God he was fighting for control too.