Flame (Firefighters of Montana Book 5) (9 page)

“You do cook, don’t you?” she asked him.

He dropped his gaze to his bare feet and then looked back up at her. The smile that appeared on his mouth combined with the look in his eyes to send something sizzling inside her chest.

“I reheat. And I grill a mean steak. Does that count?”

“Depends on how the steak turns out. I like it medium rare myself.”

“Same,” he said.

There was so much about Dex she didn’t know. So much she’d supposed and guessed and predicted, but she didn’t really understand him. Four years ago, she’d wanted to sleep with him. Now, it was something more. She wanted to get to know this man.

“Well, I’m glad you’re safely home, that’s all. The whole town appreciates what you do up there.” She flicked her gaze to the sky. And then the thought tore at her suddenly, ripped a piece of her heart clear away, and it seemed to stick in her throat and make her breathing light and shallow and breathy.
He puts his life on the line every time he gets in a plane.

What if he hadn’t come back today? And then Cady knew now why she’d been sleepless, skittish in the past couple of days. Her concern about Dex was coming from somewhere deep and important and real.

“So what’s for dinner?” Dex smiled and the gleam of his teeth against his pale and exhausted face almost had her throwing her arms around him with relief.

“Beef stroganoff with herbed rice. I hope you like it.”

He exhaled. “That sounds real good.”

“I thought you might be a red meat kind of guy.” And before she realised she was doing it, she let her eyes trawl slowly down his body, from his broad shoulders, past his muscled chest and stomach, to his strong thighs. Oh, yeah. Dex McCoy was definitely a red meat kind of guy.

“Listen, Cady. I really appreciate the food. I do. But I’ve just got home.”

She waved her hands frantically as if she was trying to stop a speeding car in front of a school crossing. “No, no, no. It’s fine. You go do what you have to do. I really should be going.”

But before she could leave, Dex took one step closer, right up into her personal space, and then one of his big hands was gentle on her forearm. She could feel his fingers sear her skin right through her shirt. She could smell something else mixed in with the smoke. Pine needles.

“No, that’s not what I meant. I’m not saying I want you to go. I’m saying you should come wait inside while I take a shower. And then I’ll get you a beer. Okay?”

“Sure. Okay.” The words came out before she could second guess herself.

“Make yourself at home,” Dex said. “I’ll be down in ten.”

As he took the stairs to the upstairs bathroom, Cady checked out his ass.
Ladies
, I’m
sorry. But Dex McCoy would absolutely, definitely win the Great Glacier Creek best ass challenge. For damn sure.

C
ady couldn’t help
herself. With Dex upstairs taking a shower—she couldn’t think about that too much without breaking into a sweat—she checked out his apartment. It revealed a lot about him, as she surveyed the open plan kitchen and living area. There wasn’t much in it—a masculine, chocolate brown leather sofa seemed to have been his only indulgence, but there were no throw pillows or blankets. A low wooden coffee table that didn’t even have last week’s newspaper or a magazine on it. There were no bookcases, and the only shelving was in the kitchen above one of the countertops, and they didn’t even hold a decorative jug or a matching set of wine glasses or even a bowl.

The whole place looked the opposite of lived-in—it looked, Cady searched for a word, temporary. As if Dex had planned to live as lightly as possible, so he could, at the drop of a hat, toss all his possessions into his truck and hit the highway at a moment’s notice. Which was so like the Dex she knew. Once a drifter, always a drifter.

The beef stroganoff was warming in the oven and the rich, meaty scent wafting through Dex’s apartment told her it was almost done. This was just a meal, big enough for two people to share. This was her saying thanks. She didn’t have to talk about the kiss, about the fact he’d apparently kissed her back—how could she not remember that—and then she would go home, because she had to be up at the crack of dawn to bake lovely things for Cady’s Cakes. She opened the oven door, waited for the steam to dissipate and then pressed her right index finger into the top of the dish, judging it still needed a few more minutes and then closed the door.

*

When Dex walked
back into the living room, Cady had a finger in her mouth and her eyes were closed. He froze. She turned her finger to the left and then to the right and the look on her face was total pleasure, like she was sucking on a piece of the best chocolate and not her finger. He almost lost all his self-control right then and there.

When she pulled it out—he could have sworn her lips smacked together with a wet pop—she slowly opened her eyes and sighed deeply. What the hell was going on? Cady was in his kitchen. She looked right at home in the space that had never been filled by a female who wasn’t Sarah or Lila. There was dinner and it smelled damn delicious. He didn’t want to think about how many times he’d imagined her there. And that particular wet dream was coming to life right in front of him.

When she noticed him there, speechless, shirtless, barefoot, wearing only an old pair of jeans that he hadn’t managed to button all the way to the top because he was in such a damn hurry to get back out into the living room to make sure she hadn’t left, her eyes widened and she looked like she didn’t want to smile, but her full lips finally won the battle.

“It’s not quite hot enough,” she said.

Man, he liked the look on her face. Her gaze dropped to his chest, flicked back up to his eyes, then dropped down lower to his jeans. He really liked it.

“You think there’s enough for two?” Dex ruffled the last droplets of moisture from his hair.

He heard Cady catch her breath.

“For two?”

“You are hungry, right?”

“Well…” She shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, which made her full breasts thrust forward slightly, stretching the second button on her shirt.

“C’mon, Cady. Stay. Share that meal with me.”

“Um, sure.”

“Good.”

How had he gotten so lucky that Cady Adams was in his house? Every time he looked into her green eyes, he wanted to kiss her again. He remembered every move, every taste, every breath on his lips, like that first one had happened just four minutes before, not four years ago.

She’d been drunk then, scared of leaving home, nervous about moving away, and clearly not in control of anything she was doing. But she wasn’t drunk now. She seemed in full command of her actions.

Which was more than could be said for him.

“Where are your plates?” she asked.

“Up there.” He moved to her side, reached up into one of the overhead cupboards, took two dinner plates, and set them on the counter, side by side. As he did, his bare arm brushed her shoulder. She didn’t move away. He turned to her. Her lips, pink and lush, like a pale rose, parted and then clamped tight together. She looked straight ahead, right at his pecs.

“I guess I should go and put a shirt on,” he murmured.

She bit her lip. “You might get cold.”

“Not with you in the room.”

She laughed nervously, shook her head. “You smokejumpers. You’ve all got egos the size of Montana.”

Dex laughed. “Be right back.”

*

She called after
him as he took the stairs two by two. “Wouldn’t want any dinner to dribble down on to that chest and cause you any damage.” Cady sighed deep and ragged. Her fingers burned with the need to touch him. If only she could remember the damn kiss, this would all be so much easier.

If it was a
meh
, she could share a meal with him, leave and remain friends.

If it was good, however, if it was blow her head off great, on the other hand, she could maybe kiss him again. Just to be sure.

Dex came back out to the dining table just as Cady was serving up their dinner. She gave Dex the biggest portion, and he wolfed it down like he hadn’t eaten in days. Well, technically he hadn’t eaten real food in days. When they were fighting fires, the crews survived on trail bars and things they could heat and eat easily.

When he finally put his fork down, he leaned his elbows on the table and stared at her with a teasing grin. “Cady Adams? I owe you an apology. Here I was thinking all you could do was bake fancy cakes.”

She chuckled. “Like that’s easy.”

“Shit, no. That’s not what I meant. This was damn good. What I’m saying is that you’re a woman of many talents.”

She felt her cheeks heat. “Thank you.”

“Listen. I have to tell you something.”

Cady leaned back in her chair, thinking the worst, preparing herself for what he was about to say. She hoped it wasn’t another revelation about her drunken night of stupidity. “What’s that?”

“The reason I haven’t been in Cady’s Cakes is because I don’t do cakes, cookies, muffins, or anything else.”

Cady was almost speechless. “You’re kidding me,” she whispered.

“Not kidding.”

“How can anyone not like cakes or cookies or muffins? I don’t understand.”

Dex shrugged. “They’re not my thing.”

Cady thought that over. “So you haven’t been trying to avoid me because of the embarrassing kiss?”

“You don’t get it, do you? It wasn’t embarrassing.” He looked at her over the table. His eyes flared. His jaw tensed. “It was…”

She covered her face with her hands. “Oh, I know. It was terrible. I was drunk and I was a virgin and I’d barely kissed anyone in my whole entire life.”

Dex held up a hand. “You’re a virgin?”

Cady snorted. “Past tense, McCoy. I was four years ago. I’m not now, for Pete’s sake.”

“Back at The Drop Zone, you told me you kissed me because you wanted to fuck someone that night—anyone—so you could lose your virginity before you left.”

Cady slammed a palm on the table. The cutlery rattled. “Now you see why I’m so embarrassed about it?”

“Fuck me,” Dex muttered under his breath. “A drunk virgin. Every asshole’s dream date. Luckily, I’m not one.”

“Hang on; you said you kissed me back.

“Yeah. I was edging towards asshole but the gentleman in me took over.”

“Well,” Cady sighed. “We sure as hell ruined our first kiss.”

Dex stood abruptly, his chair scraping on the tile as he pushed it backwards. Then he’d rounded the table and he was by her side, offering her his hand. “It’s time for a do over.”

Cady put her hand in his and stood, willing her knees not to betray her. She gazed into his eyes and moved in closer. She drew in a breath, ignored the nervous beating of her heart, and slowly, slowly put her lips on Dex’s. She could smell his aftershave and her cheek grazed his jaw. She pressed gently on his mouth, then pulled away, nibbled on his lower lip, biting gently, urging his mouth open. She pressed her palms over his pecs and then trailed them up over his shoulders as she squeezed her breasts against him, and then he responded in the way she hoped he would, wrapping his arms around her waist, lifting her until her butt was on the table, bending her backwards with the force of his strength and the desire and need in his mouth. His tongue teased hers, she teased his back, and Cady could hardly breathe; she was so aroused. She spread her legs and pulled him in close, and he was already hard, pressing against her and, oh, God, Cady knew this was what she’d been waiting for, this kind of kiss, this man, how this felt. If all the missteps she’d made in her life had led to this, she loved every single mistake.

Dex brought a hand to her breast, cupped her, caressed her hard nipple, so obvious through her bra and her shirt, and she moaned against his lips and finally, had to come up for air.

Her breathing was fast and shallow. So was his. He brought his forehead to rest against hers.

“Not bad,” he said, the hint of a laugh on his breath.

“Yeah. Not bad at all.”

“Pretty damn good, actually.”

“Glad we got that sorted.” Cady panted.

“Proved a point,” Dex replied, his breathing heavy.