The Last of The Red Hot Firefighters (Red Hot Reunions Book 1)
Read The Last of The Red Hot Firefighters (Red Hot Reunions Book 1) Online
Authors: Jessie Evans
LAST OF THE
RED HOT FIREFIGHTERS
Red Hot Reunions
Book One
By Jessie Evans
All Rights Reserved
Copyright
Last of the Red Hot Firefighters
© 2016 Jessie D. Evans
www.jessieevansauthor.com
All rights reserved. 2
nd
Edition.
Previously published as Melt With You by Jessie Evans. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. This sexy contemporary romance is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. This ebook is licensed for your personal use only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with, especially if you enjoy hot, sexy, emotional novels featuring alpha firefighters. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work. Cover design by Helen Williams. Edited by Edited Ever After.
About the Book
Red hot shoulders.
Red hot abs.
Red hot smolder as he takes to the catwalk at the firefighter's charity auction. And don't even get started on the view from the back...
Fact: Jake Hansen is full on five alarm hot. He's the last of the red hot firefighters and the only man who ever owned Naomi Whitehouse's heart.
But that was a long time ago, back when they weren't much more than kids.
It's been years since they've even been friends and Naomi never imagines that Jake is as hot for her as she is for him or that a steamy second chance at love is just around the corner.
Soon Jake and Naomi learn that some fires never burn out, but will the heat between them be enough to burn away the sins of the past? Or is their second chance doomed to go up in flames?
A sexy standalone romance from New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author Jessie Evans.
CHAPTER ONE
Naomi
Whoever said you can never go home again was full of crap.
Naomi Whitehouse had come home again—back to Summerville, Georgia, the only place she’d ever been truly happy—and she was loving every minute of it. Summerville was exactly the same, and with every passing day, Naomi felt the hard, crusty, miserable shell that had been suffocating her soul for the past year crumbling away, revealing a happier, healthier Naomi.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Maddie, Naomi’s younger sister, paused at the entrance to the Methodist Church’s fellowship hall, rubbing her red fingers together to keep them warm.
Before moving back to Summerville a few months ago, Maddie had been living in the Caribbean. This was her first winter back in a place where it occasionally snowed, and she was totally unprepared. This time last week Naomi herself had been in Miami, so she could empathize.
The sisters had made a quick trip to Atlanta to buy coats and hats on Monday—taking a day to celebrate closing on the location for
Icing,
the bakery they would be opening together—but they’d forgotten to pick up scarves and mittens. Yesterday, that hadn’t been a big deal, but tonight the temperature had dropped close to thirty degrees.
After the six-block walk from the car, Naomi’s entire face was numb.
But that was probably a good thing. Hopefully, her frozen face would keep her nerves from showing.
“Seriously,” Maddie said. “Are you ready for this?”
“I’m ready.” Naomi looped her arm through her sister’s. “I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”
“You’re bluffing,” Maddie huffed, her breath forming a crystal fog in front of her face.
“How can you tell?”
“I have the best bullshit detector in three states,” Maddie said, before adding in a slightly sour voice, “except when it comes to my ex, of course.”
Maddie and her ex-husband, Serge—a Croatian chef she’d met in Paris while studying the art of French pastry—had split up six months ago. Serge had finally broken down and confessed to his wife and best friend that he was gay and had fallen in love with one of the lifeguards at the resort where he and Maddie both worked.
Two days after announcing the news to his wife, he’d started divorce proceedings and moved to San Francisco to start a new life with Craig.
Maddie had pretended not to be devastated, but Naomi knew better. She might not have the best bullshit detector in three states—or even in one state if her own recent relationship history was anything to judge by—but she knew her baby sister. Something inside Maddie was broken. Her blue eyes didn’t sparkle the way they used to, and even her smile looked sad around the edges.
“Hey,” Naomi said in a soft voice. “If you don’t want to be here, we can leave. It’s no big deal.”
Maddie shook her head, sending her dark-chocolate curls tumbling around her shoulders. They were the same shade as Naomi’s had been before she streaked her hair with caramel highlights yesterday in an effort to perk up her outsides along with her insides.
“No way,” Maddie said, lifting her chin a little higher. “It’s important that you patch things up with Jake. I’m not sure this is the best way to do it, but you’ve got money in your purse and I’m here to help you spend it.”
Naomi grinned and nudged Maddie with her shoulder. “Does that mean you’re going to let me buy one for you? I brought extra cash just in case.”
Maddie snorted. “You’re crazy. I’m not going to be able to watch this without giggling like a ten-year-old on a sugar high, let alone bid on a beefcake of my own.”
Naomi giggled. “I know. But I can’t wait. Thank God for Methodists.”
“Amen,” Maddie said, laughing as they headed for the entrance, joining the throngs of women surging into the Methodist fellowship hall.
Only the Methodists would allow the firefighters to hold a “Hunk-for-a-Month” charity auction in their large basement. The Baptists across the street were undoubtedly scandalized by the idea of half-naked men in a house of worship. The Baptists didn’t approve of dancing, let alone oiled-up firefighters strutting down a makeshift catwalk while local women hooted and hollered and bid on the man they wanted to be their date for the next month of Fridays.
Naomi, however, wasn’t scandalized at all. She was determined. Determined to use the fifteen hundred dollars burning a hole in her red leather purse to buy a chance at a fresh start with Jake Hansen.
Jake Hansen
. Just thinking his name sent a shiver up her spine that had nothing to do with the cold. Damn, she was nervous.
Jake was more than her former high school sweetheart; he was the person who had taught her how to love. When she’d decided to settle down, it was her relationship with Jake that she had looked back on as a model for how to make “happily ever after” work.
Naomi had been a good partner to her fiancé, Caleb, but Caleb hadn’t been ready to settle down. He’d made that abundantly clear eight months ago when tragedy struck and Naomi hit rock bottom. Instead of being there to catch her and lift her back into the light, the way a man like Jake would have been, Caleb had packed his things, said good-bye, and left her alone in the darkness.
Naomi had cried for two days straight before her family had flown in to help her pull herself together for the trip to the cemetery.
The only bright spot was that Naomi had managed to keep her pregnancy and her baby’s premature delivery from the press. The Whitehouses had been the only ones at the gravesite, the only ones to mourn the little girl who hadn’t made it past her fifth month inside her mama. Caleb, the father of Naomi’s baby, hadn’t even sent flowers.
Even now—eight months and a lot of intensive therapy later—the memory of that tiny coffin was still enough to make Naomi’s throat lock up and her heart shrivel in her chest.
No, not tonight,
she thought, gritting her jaw against the wave of emotion.
Tonight is for the future, for nurturing new beginnings, not licking old wounds.
Plastering a smile on her face, Naomi waved at some old school friends near the coat check and joined the crowd of women wandering into the fellowship hall.
CHAPTER TWO
Naomi
Inside the basement, which smelled vaguely of tater tots, chili, and other fellowship meals, the normally bright fluorescents had been shut off and a catwalk decorated with fire hoses was illuminated with sultry red spotlights. The thirty or so round tables surrounding the catwalk were already filling up, and Maddie and Naomi had to hustle to find two seats together near the back of the room, at a table of gray haired ladies with flushed cheeks and mischief in their eyes.
“Mrs. Watson!” Naomi broke into a laugh at the sight of her sixty-something fifth grade teacher twirling her auction card—a cutout of a red firefighter’s cap with a number in the center glued to a wooden dowel—between two fingers.
“Naomi! You look amazing, sugar!” Mrs. Watson leveraged her considerable bulk from her chair and enveloped Naomi in a cushiony hug. “We’re so glad to have you back where you belong, baby girl. And Maddie, too!”
“It’s so good to see you!” Naomi squeezed her tight. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“Of course I’m here,” Mrs. Watson said, winking as she released Naomi from her embrace. “Where else would I be? It’s not every day you get to see fourteen brave, Southern men in the prime of their lives without their shirts on.”
“Men, indeed. Those boys are young enough to be your sons, Mimi Watson. Or
grandsons
for that matter,” Gretchen March piped up from across the table, her lips pruning with disapproval. Gretchen was the grandmother of their business partner, Aria, and was never shy about sharing her opinions. “If you ask me, this monkeyshine shouldn’t be allowed in church, even if it
is
only the church basement.”
“Oh, hush, Gretchen.” Mrs. Watson laughed as she reclaimed her seat. “I don’t remember twisting your arm to get you in the car tonight.”
Gretchen lifted her nose into the air. “Well, someone has to keep an eye on the rest of you, make sure you don’t spend your grocery money on some shirtless hoodlum.” She glanced furtively over her shoulder before leaning in to add in a loud whisper, “I heard one of them was going to be wearing a tiny bathing suit like those European men wear at the beach.”
“Oh, I hope so,” Mrs. Watson said, clapping her hands.