Burning Desire Read online

  He waited until she’d gotten in her car and pulled away before leaving. But he sure didn’t seem too upset that she’d rejected his dinner plans.

  In fact, he’d been polite and charming, but not too charming, all day long.

  Maybe her father’s warning had done its job.

  And she wondered why she found that thought so depressing.

  ***

  Tex sat with Brad’s brother, Oscar, and Oscar’s girlfriend, Gerty, at their place for dinner while he played with their puppy, a three-legged Lab mix named Klingon.

  He laughed at the dog’s antics as it raced around on wobbly legs trying to get its tail.

  “Man, this guy is so dang cute. He just gets cuter every time I see him.”

  “Like some firemen I could name.” Gerty appraised Tex sitting on the floor. “Oscar, if you weren’t so fine, I might have to see what Tex looks like as an orc king.”

  “Over my undead draugr body!”

  “Gamer nerds.” Tex sighed.

  Oscar looked a lot like Brad. Same sandy-brown hair, same facial features, same annoying tendency to try to boss Tex around. Gerty, though, looked like a hundred pounds of tiny, blond fairy. Her pixie haircut, red jeans, and neon, striped shirt seemed to be making some kind of statement. The burn-out-your-retinas kind.

  “How’s it going with your übernemesis?” she asked him.

  “Who, Bree?”

  “Yep. The photographer with a grudge.”

  “She likes me. She just won’t admit it to herself yet.”

  Oscar grinned. “Admitting her problem is the first step.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t think she’s wanting any coins for completing her recovery process.”

  “Coins?” Gerty looked puzzled.

  “For completing a step in AA,” Oscar informed her.

  “Oh, right. So, what’s she addicted to?”

  “Hating me,” Tex muttered.

  Gerty laughed. Oscar coughed to hide his mirth.

  “It’s all fun and games until I’m no longer helping you two with your adorable strays,” Tex growled, a reminder of why he’d come to visit in the first place.

  Gerty cleared her throat. “Sorry, Cowboy Carl.”

  “Huh?” Gerty was so weird.

  She continued, “We’ve homed so many strays thanks to you guys. Heck, with Avery’s show, Brad’s work with it, and the rest of you holding adoption days for Pets Fur Life, we’re able to accept more strays than ever before.”

  Oscar grinned at Tex. “You have to admit it’s a great way to meet women.”

  “It is better than the bar scene,” Tex admitted. Especially because the only woman he wanted didn’t seem hang out at bars unless with a bridal party, and she seemed to have no interest in flirting at work. “Anyway, what’s your emergency?”

  Oscar and Gerty looked at each other.

  “Well,” Oscar started, slowly. He reminded Tex a lot of his own older brother back in Texas. Wyatt was funny, sarcastic as hell, and a homegrown lothario who liked to pretend he could get more girls than Tex. But Tex had outgrown stupid dating competitions after high school. And it wasn’t a competition anyway, since Tex had bigger muscles and a helluva lot more sex appeal than stupid Wyatt.

  “I’m still waitin’…”

  Klingon jumped on his leg and tried to nose under it. Then Tex realized he’d been sitting on a pretzel someone must have dropped. Loud crunching clued Gerty in to the fact her pooch had found treasure.

  “See, Oscar? I told you you missed some,” she scolded before picking up Klingon and hugging him. “You are so cute.” The dog licked and licked her.

  Too bad Bree wasn’t close by to snap a picture of that.

  No, she’d spent her day distanced behind her lens, taking pictures of him while barely talking about anything substantial. Questions about firefighting, Fifth Battalion, and what a great Cuban sandwich the deli shop made. But not one answer to any question he’d hedged about her personal life or hobbies.

  Maybe he’d been too vague. He hadn’t wanted her to think he was trying to find out more about her, just being friendly in a nonthreatening way.

  “Hello?” Oscar waved a hand in front of his face. “I think we should talk after we eat.”

  “Yeah.” Tex yawned. “My blood sugar’s low. Feed me, and I’ll respond.”

  Gerty snorted. “Men.”

  They ate a great deal of pizza. Between Oscar and Tex, they polished off a pizza apiece.

  Gerty ate her fair share, but filling up her tiny body didn’t take much.

  “You two are monsters. Come on, Klingon. Let’s go for a walk.”

  It was still light out, and they lived in a decent enough area in Fremont, so Tex didn’t worry for Gerty’s safety. Not that he’d have to with Oscar around, but still. His daddy had ingrained into his brain the need to be protective.

  Gerty left them with a wave.

  They sat in silence at the table as Tex drank down the rest of his root beer. “Well? I ain’t getting any younger, son.”

  Oscar flushed.

  Tex chuckled. “It’s like looking at a younger, more agreeable Brad Battle.”

  “Be nice, Tex.”

  Tex loved his firefighting brother, a former Marine and an all-around amazing guy. But Brad was hardened. Oscar was not.

  “I, ah, I think I might need some help.”

  Tex’s smile left him. “You been going to meetings?”

  Oscar nodded. A recovering alcoholic, he’d been sober for close to two years and occasionally leaned on Tex for emotional support. Since Tex had been there for Wyatt, providing help and tough love when needed, he’d seen the same vulnerabilities in Oscar upon first meeting the guy. Brad had tried to help, but Mr. Perfect didn’t know what it was like to fail and fail again.

  “I’m doing more meetings, hanging with my sponsor when I need to. And, well, there’s another guy in the program. He has a dog.”

  “Aha.” Pet service needed.

  “I’m really asking you to help me with that, not the drinking part.”

  That made a heck of a lot more sense than that Tex could solve all of Oscar’s problems.

  “The dog is older and neglected. I finally managed to talk Scott into giving her up for adoption instead of just setting her free to live her own life.” Oscar scowled. “He’s got some weird idea the dog would be happier by itself, alone in the city.”

  “What a dick.”

  Oscar nodded. “I promised I’d come get Bubbles before the end of the week. He’s got it in his head that if he takes her to a shelter, they’ll put Bubbles down.”

  “Seattle is a no-kill city.” Tex paused. “Hold on. The dog’s name is Bubbles?”

  Oscar sighed. “He named her after his ex-girlfriend…a stripper.”

  “Oh, okay.” Tex pictured some yappy little dog with pink sweaters and a rhinestone collar pining for attention.

  “I told Scott the dog would be fine at a shelter. He doesn’t care. I’d go over there and grab the dog, but I kind of don’t want to be around any drunk people just now. And I don’t want Gerty over there with him alone. Scott can get weird when he’s hammered.”

  “No, keep Gerty away. Yourself too. Good call.” Except some poor, older dog was stuck with an asshole on a bender.

  “I really am sorry about this.” Oscar glanced away. “I would have called Brad for help, but I don’t want him to think I’m having problems. It’s… I just…”

  “No, man. I get it. It’s your business anyway. Don’t worry about it. You’re being smart about things. Gimme the address and a time to get over there to get the dog. I’ll bring her back.”

  “Well, that’s the other thing.” Oscar swallowed. “We’re only allowed one dog here.”

  “And?” Why did this problem seem to have no end?r />
  “And I need to find a place for Bubbles to stay. And, well, since you have a yard…”

  Tex groaned. “You’re killing me. I want to help, but I’m not home enough for a dog.”

  “It’s just temporary,” Oscar jumped in. “And for however long you have the dog, either Gerty or I will come over to walk it or let it out to pee. Please, Tex? It’s just sad, what this dog has been living with. For years.”

  Tex wanted to say no, but he couldn’t. “Shit. Fine. But I’m only keepin’ this dog until you find her a good home. And fast. Bubbles,” he said with a huff. “Who names a dog Bubbles?”

  ***

  Tex spent the next two days carting Bree around, showing her how professional and distant he could be while slowly worming his way under her skin. Oscar had yet to call him about picking up Bubbles, so he focused his efforts on winning Bree over.

  He couldn’t say for sure, but she seemed to respond to him easier, not looking so guarded all the time. She even smiled more, especially when he offered suggestions on shots she might like, from different perspectives at places he’d been before. As a firefighter, Tex saw a lot of the city most folks never did.

  Bree seemed like such an artist. He’d seen her work in magazines and galleries, having followed—not stalked, thank you, Mack—her online and looked into her endeavors.

  He didn’t figure he had much of an artistic side. He didn’t like to draw or write, could take decent enough pics with his cell phone but normally only snapped them to make fun of the guys doing stupid things, and had no flair for domestic arts. He could cook so-so, but though the food was edible, it was short of spectacular.

  Tex might not be artistic, but he gave his all to everything he attempted. At the age of ten, his father had taught him how to hunt. Shooting a gun had been fun, but he’d had no desire to kill anything with it. Shooting with a bow, however, had been thrilling. He’d won several competitions shooting at targets. Unfortunately, his time in the USMC hadn’t been dicking around with a bow and arrows. He’d kept his rifle by his side through thick and thin, fortunately only needing to fire on the range to qualify each year for promotion. An expert on the rifle with ease.

  Maybe he could consider his love of hitting the target a form of artistic expression and impress upon Bree that he was pretty good at something other than annoying her.

  He glanced next to him in the truck as he and Bree readied to end their Saturday spent driving around the city. The evening hadn’t yet arrived, the sun still bright overhead, but Bree had decided she needed a break. He agreed.

  They’d spent the past three days together, from morning through evening, taking pictures of the many firefighters all over the city in their home stations. But much of her time had been spent on the technical aspects of her shots, not just taking the photos themselves.

  Today they’d followed a pair of paramedics out of Harbor Station on a ton of calls, the last one an ugly car crash downtown. One driver had been listed as critical, his passengers—two small children—nearly as bad. Fortunately, they’d been wearing their seat belts when they’d been slammed into by a woman texting on her phone. She had walked away with a few bruises, but he wouldn’t want to be her when the cops came calling. She’d for sure get more than a ticket for texting while driving.

  Tex and Bree had been on Pine when the scanner had broadcast the emergency. Flashing lights, he’d gotten through to the mess and parked out of the way. It had itched at him not to provide assistance, but he’d stayed back and let the others do their jobs, keeping Bree close while protecting her…without acting like he was protecting her. She’d done a great job of being unobtrusive while still taking shots.

  “I don’t know how journalists do it.” Bree shook her head. “All that tragedy. I had to block it out to shoot, but I felt sick at all the blood and pain. Those poor kids and their dad.” Her brows drew close. “I hope they throw that woman in jail. She caused that accident.”

  “I know. It was a mess.” He sighed. “I hate when kids are involved. It’s always bad, but the little ones really get to you.” He could feel her studying him, her gaze penetrating.

  “Thank you for helping me back there. You made sure I got through and kept me out of the way.”

  “Just doing my job.” He spared her a grin while working like a demon to devise a way to turn this into an opportunity for more Bree time. “You sure you want to end tonight? It’s gearing up to be a full moon. A lot of crazies coming out soon.”

  She chuckled. “I’ll bet. I’m tired though. We’ll do more tomorrow.” She paused. “I never asked, but tomorrow is Sunday. Do you do church?”

  He nodded. “But I’ve been known to skip. A lot, sorry to say. My schedule isn’t always the most flexible. Though sometimes I go and sit in the back in uniform if I’m on duty. Brad’s okay with it, but Reggie and Mack get annoyed. So I try to partner with them when I can on Sundays so we can both sit in church together.”

  She smiled. “You like getting under people’s skin, hmm?”

  How to answer that one? “Only my buddies’. Trust me. They do their best to get under mine, and on a daily basis.”

  She laughed. “Which one’s the worst?”

  “Brad’s too stern to really let go. But Avery has him smiling a lot more. Then there’s Reggie, another Mr. Serious. But he’s a sneaky cuss. A lot more sly and tricky than you’d think. I like fuck—er, messing—with him the most. And Mack, because he’s a huge pain. Like me, he has a lot of brothers. You kind of grow up knowing how to needle people when you have brothers.”

  She was staring at him, he could feel it. “I have one stepsister, and she and I don’t get along.”

  “Older or younger?”

  “Same age.” She sighed. “What about you? I remember us talking about your family a little, mostly about your life growing up on the ranch. Was it three or four brothers you have again? I forget.”

  “Wish I could,” he teased. She laughed, and he felt tingly hearing it. “I have three older brothers. All perfect children, to hear them tell it.” He chuckled. “The oldest two are both married, and I have a four-year-old nephew. I’m the best uncle, honestly.”

  “I imagine you’re the fun one who always got his brothers in trouble when younger.”

  “No way. I got saddled with all the guilt for stuff I ain’t never done.” He deliberately thickened his accent and winked, and she laughed with him. “I might have done a few things, but my brothers were hellions. I’m respectable.”

  “Please.”

  “I am. I joined the Marines, and now I fight fires.” He frowned. “But I don’t live at home anymore working the ranch, and I’m not married. So those are two big points against me.” They’d been having such a great conversation, so he took a risk and asked, “What about you? You live near your parents, so you’re still in good with the family, right?”

  “I love my dad and stepmom, sure. But I’d be lying if I said they weren’t always asking who I’m dating.” She glanced out the window. “My dad is way too interested in my social life, but if I ask him to leave it alone, his feelings get hurt.”

  That, Tex couldn’t fathom. Chief Gilchrist was built like a tank and had a glare like a priest catching a kid chugging the communion wine. His feelings hurt?

  “So, everyone in your family is married but you, huh?” she asked.

  “No. Wyatt, my older brother, is still single. But he works on the ranch with the family, so they cut him a break.” Tex grimaced. “I’m not looking forward to Christmas this year. I’m due to go home, and I know they’re going to eat me alive. Wyatt will get a girl just to spite me. I know it.”

  “You’re weird. No one dates just to get back at a sibling.” She paused. “Then again, my stepsister once dated one of my exes and brought him to a Christmas Eve party. So maybe you have something there.”

  “That’s not cool.”
/>   “No, it’s not.”

  “Wyatt’s never done that. But it’s tough for me because I’m the youngest. My momma worries about me so far from home, so defenseless.”

  She shook her head. “You’re shameless. How old are you, anyway?”

  “Twenty-nine. Thirty in December. You?”

  “Twenty-seven. Just turned in March.”

  “Oh, so just a baby in this rough city, filled with scary Starbucks and wild Nordstroms on every corner. No wonder your daddy is scared for ya.” He chuckled when she shot him the finger. Now they were getting somewhere. Bree was acting feisty and giving back as good as she got. Not so distant now.

  Their gazes met, and the air thickened between them. Tex quickly looked back at the road as he turned toward Capitol Hill, where Bree lived.

  Bree cleared her throat. “You never answered about tomorrow. Do you need extra time in the morning?”

  “If you’re okay with it, I wouldn’t mind hitting an earlier service.”

  “No problem at all. Who would have thought Tex McGovern answered to something other than T and A.”

  He blinked. “What did you say?” He stopped at a light and stared at her.

  She burst out laughing. “Oh my God. You are so red right now.”

  “Shut up.” He was not.

  “You’re acting like my grandma did the one time she farted in church.”

  “Dear Jesus.”

  “That’s what she said!” She laughed harder.

  Tex found it difficult not to yank her into his arms and hug her, wanting to feel some of that joy. But he sat there, a stupid grin on his face. It took the guy beeping behind him to force him to look back at the road and drive.

  She wiped her cheek. “Sorry. That was so funny. You crack me up, Tex.”

  “Glad to be of service. You know, after these two weeks are up, I should ask for a raise.”

  She snickered. “I hope it’s a big one.”

  “That’s what she said,” they said at the same time and broke down laughing even more.

  “Sorry,” he said. “It just slipped out. And do not say ‘that’s what she said’ to that.”

  Bree twisted an invisible lock over her lips then ruined it by speaking. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that either, but it was too funny.”