All Fired Up (Green Valley Heroes #7)

Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

HUNTER

I drive aimlessly for I’m not sure how long, not wanting to go back to my house. Not wanting to remember Madeline on my sofa, kissing me with abandon, my hands all over her. The way she’d cried out as she came, totally uninhibited. I’ve never seen her like that before.

And I desperately want to again.

But she’s not interested in that, apparently. She thinks I only want her because she’s a novelty. That I’ll tire of her as soon as I have her. As if I’m some animal.

How can I fault her for thinking that, though? My track record with girls isn’t doing me any favors. Maybe who I’m really mad at is...myself.

How can I convince her I’m not that guy? That things are different with her? Especially when she made perfectly reasonable points about us still working together for the next month.

Can’t she ever be unreasonable? Can’t she ever do something simply because she wants to without considering every angle?

And how sad is it that I’m basically admitting I’m a mistake? That to be with me, it means she’d be making the wrong decision.

Fucking hell.

I eventually end up out at Bandit Lake. A guy I work with said he was having a party out here tonight at a friend’s house. I don’t even know whose house it is, but I know enough people here to not stick out. Grabbing a beer, I nod at others but don’t let myself get sucked into conversation. I thought this would be better than being alone, but it doesn’t seem I’m in the right headspace for company, either.

A guy passes by with a joint, offering me a hit, and I shake my head.

“You sure?” he asks, eyes glazed over.

“I don’t smoke,” I tell him. It’d be hypocritical of me to use the same stuff I get on Dad and Nate’s case about selling.

“You still won’t smoke weed?” a new voice asks. I don’t have to look to know it’s Lydia.

She takes a drag from the stranger’s joint and hands it back to him, smiling. He gives her a sloppy smile back and continues on his way.

“No,” I say, taking a small sip of my beer. This will probably be my only one of the night, so I don’t want to finish it too quickly.

“You in a mood?” she asks, circling around me, her fingertips trailing over my chest, my biceps, my back, then repeating again.

It’s not like I can tell her not to touch me. The girl’s touched a hell of a lot more on me in the past. “No,” I repeat, taking another swig of my beer.

She grins. “Liar.”

I shrug, not telling her she’s right. “What makes you think so?”

She stops behind me and whispers in my ear, “Because you’re all broody. It’s kind of a turn-on, actually.”

That’s the thing about Lydia. She has no filter and you always know exactly where you stand with her. She’s also too narcissistic to ever fall in love with anyone else. That’s why she’s the only girl I’ve ever hooked up with regularly over the years. Everyone else has pretty much been a one and done. No chance of Lydia catching feelings or wanting more than what I was willing to offer.

“How about it?” she asks, moving in front of me. “You down to fuck?”

Oh yeah, did I mention she’s crass, too? I’ve never cared in the past, but her casual question feels...wrong now.

I shake my head and she frowns. “You’ve never said no before.”

Looking away, I mumble, “I’m seeing someone.”

Even though I’m not. I only wish I was.

She laughs, then stops when she realizes I’m serious. “You? Mr. Anti-Commitment?”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not that bad.”

“Hmm. You kind of are.” She eyes me speculatively. “So, is it serious?”

How the hell am I supposed to know that? But considering I can’t stop thinking about Madeline, that all I want to do is spend time with her, learn everything about her...“Yeah, it is.”

It’s freeing in a way to say that out loud, to admit it to someone else. It makes it more real.

“Who’s the lucky lady?”

There’s no jealousy in her voice, nothing other than simple curiosity. Still, I shouldn’t say anything. Shouldn’t spread rumors when Madeline and I are nothing. She made that clear.

But she also didn’t say she wasn’t interested. She said she was trying to be practical. There’s a difference.

So, of course I blurt out, “Madeline Woodward.”

She blinks, her brows drawing together. “Who?”

Wow. I knew she wasn’t popular, but damn. “She went to high school with us, a year behind.”

Recognition dawns, then it’s back to confusion. “Really? But she’s so...And you’re...” She waves her arm in no particular direction.

“We’re what?” I grit out. What is she going to say? Some brainiac and jock bullshit? I don’t need to hear it from her, too. I already know I’m not smart enough for Madeline. That I come from a piece of shit family. That I don’t deserve her.

Lydia smirks, giving me a once-over. “She was more straitlaced than I thought you’d be into.”

I thought that, too. Until I got to know her.

She pats my arm. “Well, best of luck to you both.”

She turns, but I stick out my arm, stopping her as a strange kind of desperation takes hold of me. “How can I...” I swallow hard, knowing I should let it rest, but it seems I can’t. “How can I let her know I’m serious about her? She doesn’t believe me.”

Her eyes widen. “Hunter, wow.” She steps closer, studying me. “You really are serious.”

I nod shakily under her scrutiny. What the hell am I doing exposing myself to Lydia of all people? If she wanted, she could have the word around town about me and Madeline with a snap of her fingers.

Which would be even more embarrassing when Madeline sets everyone straight that we are definitely not a couple.

Lydia taps a manicured finger to her chin. “From what I remember about her, she’s not the kind of girl you can buy off. Flowers and jewelry aren’t going to mean much to her.”

I hang on her every word. I’ve never seen Madeline wear jewelry. And I have a feeling I’d freak her out if I bought her flowers.

“I think she’s more of an actions speak louder than words kind of girl. You have to be there for her. Show her you’re not going anywhere.”

“That’s . . . good advice.” Is Lydia actually smart? “Thanks.”

She beams. “You’re welcome. Now, I’ve got to find someone else to fuck tonight.”

And that’s my cue to leave.

I say a brief goodbye to my coworker on my way out, then sit in my Mustang, not turning it on yet. I need to show Madeline I’m there for her. I’ve been doing that, right? So, what else can I do?

There’s the rest of that list of things to do around the house. Yeah, she’d said I didn’t have to do them, but this would be helping her. I could do other things she’s not good at, too. Like...change the oil in her car?

Fuck. Why is this so hard?

My head falls against the headrest, my eyes closing. Does she really think I’m only after the chase with her? What do we even have in common?

All the little things we’ve discovered about each other come to mind, but I dismiss each one. Liking the same bands or hating onions in our food or both wanting to travel outside the country one day. Those things aren’t important. I need something concrete.

I think what it comes down to is I like the person she is. What she stands for. Her tenacity, her fire, her commitment. The spark between us.

She can’t deny the spark. I know she feels it, too.

But she has a point, we’ll be working closely together for the next month. If we slept together and things went sour, she wouldn’t want to see me anymore. She’s right that I’d fail the exam if she didn’t tutor me. And not only that, but...I would miss her. It hasn’t been that long, but she’s already become a part of my daily life.

I can’t imagine sleeping together would make things worse, though. It’d only get better. I’d finally know what it’s like to sink inside her. How warm and wet she’d be. Those gasps of satisfaction in my ear as I make her come. Holding her close afterward. Hearing her steady heartbeat, her soft breaths. Having her tucked into my side all night, where I can keep her safe.

I’ve never cared about the aftermath of sex before. Never felt that kind of wanting. Maybe the difference is we were friends first. That we’ve gotten to know each other so well.

All I know is . . . I don’t want to lose her.

Throughout our study session the next night, it’s all I can do to focus on what she’s saying, too interested instead in studying the shape of her lips. The graceful curve of her jaw. The way her hair frames her face when she leaves it down. How could I have not noticed how beautiful she is when first seeing her again at the fire station after all those years?

“Do I have something on my face?” she asks, and my gaze flicks up to find her brows knit in concern as she touches her chin.

Shit. Was I staring? “Oh, um, no.”

She nods and picks up her notebook again, then sets it back down. “I can’t concentrate,” she mutters, rubbing at her temple.

Yeah, that’s obvious. She’s been stumbling over her words the last half hour. I have no room to judge, though. It’d be even worse if I was trying to read it.

“I think we should clear the air,” she says, looking at the table rather than me.

I lean back in my seat and cross my arms over my chest, finally sufficiently distracted from staring at her like a stalker. “What about?”

Her head tilts to the side as she gives me an exasperated look, seeming to forget she was avoiding looking at me. “About yesterday. I...I don’t want you mad at me.”

Has she been worried about that? “I’m not mad at you.”

Her brows knit again. “How could you not be? The way I said...I didn’t mean to say it that way. And I never meant to hurt your feelings.”

My fingers flex against my arms. So she picked up on that? I thought I’d done an all right job of hiding it.

“I’m sorry, okay?” There’s this...longing in her voice. Like she needs me to believe her. “I’m very out of my element.”

“Hey, hey.” I reach across the study table, enveloping her hands in mine. She looks up at me in surprise, but I don’t let go. “There is no element, okay?” Lydia said actions speak louder than words, but she needs some reassurance here. “I don’t want you to feel that way. It’s just me. And you can always talk to me.”

She stares back at me, her gaze searching mine. I don’t know what she sees, or what she’s looking for, but she finally nods.

“Once I had time to think about it,” I tell her, “I understand where you’re coming from, even if I don’t completely agree with it. And yeah, I got upset. But I’m over it.”

“You’re over it?” she repeats in a whisper.

“Yeah.” No, wait. “Over being upset, I mean. Not over you.”

She slips her hands out from under mine, looking away. “Hunter...”

Shit. I shouldn’t have said that. I wanted her more at ease, not less. “Listen, uh...” I scratch at the back of my neck, trying to think of some other topic. “What was that thing you said you were going to tell me the next time we studied? After all those questions you asked.”

She finally looks back at me. “Oh, that.” She blows out a long breath. “Do you mind if I ask you a few more questions first?”

I make a be my guest gesture, confused when she asks about my spelling, handwriting, and even time management issues. I sweat, though, when she specifically asks if I have to read something multiple times to understand it.

“I’m not stupid,” I say instead of answering the question. If I tell her yes, then I’m basically admitting that.

“I know you’re not. But I think you might have dyslexia.”

I stare at her blankly, unsure what to say. I wasn’t expecting that.

“It’s a neurological condition,” she explains when I stay silent. “And it could be the reason you struggle with some things that come easier to others.”

My jaw clenches as my pulse rushes in my ears. It was one thing for me to suspect she might know about my difficulties. It’s another for her to throw it in my face.

This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go.

“Hunter, I can work with you?—”

“I don’t need your help,” I tell her, standing and grabbing my stuff. “And I don’t have whatever this is. I’m not fucking stupid.”

I stalk out of the library, avoiding the librarian’s eye as I pass her at the service desk, the one with all the wild, silver hair. Turns out, she’s actually a nice lady.

It’s not until I’m almost to my car that there’s a tug on my arm from behind. Madeline’s breathing heavily, all her study materials haphazardly gathered in her arms. But the thing that catches my eye the most is that fire in her eyes, so similar to those first days of the training program.

“You know I’m not calling you stupid. I’m sorry if I worded it wrong, but I wasn’t saying that. I would never say that. Not...not now. Not after everything we’ve been through.”

I step away from her, not wanting her hand on my arm, but she follows me. I guess her tenacity shouldn’t surprise me. It’s been there in spades since the beginning.

“Please don’t shut me out.” Her voice is pleading.

Still, I can’t help saying, “Like the way you shut me out Saturday night?”

Her nostrils flare, even as guilt crosses her face. “I needed some time to process it first.”

“And maybe I need some time, too.”

Her lips press tightly together. “Okay.” She steps back. “I just want what’s best for you. And not because of the firefighting exams or the training program, but because of you. Because I...” She swallows hard. “Because I care about you.”

My gaze darts over her, half of me still wanting to flee, half wanting to kiss the hell out of her. She cares about me?

It’s not like it’s a confession. It’s probably actually the bare minimum. But it’s something. A step in the right direction. Toward what, I’m not sure, but it’s there all the same.

“Come here,” I say, my anger deflating, and take the assortment of things she’s still holding in her arms, then guide her over to my car, where I set the stuff on the hood.

Leaning against the side, I cross my arms over my chest. “What is it you want me to do?”

“You don’t have to do anything,” she insists. “Nothing has to change. But there are some strategies we could employ that might help. Things like text-to-speech software or trying out different fonts.”

She says more stuff about using highlighters and making diagrams, but I’m not paying attention. Instead, all I can think of is the amount of research she must have put into this. For me. To help me out. Because she cares about me.

How sad is it that I’m riding high on that scrap of a compliment?

When she seems to be finished, I ask her, “So, is there a medication or something I could take?”

She shakes her head. “It’s not that kind of disorder. And it’s not curable. It’s more about finding ways to adapt. And it has nothing to do with intelligence or vision or anything like that.”

I nod, processing everything she’s said. In a way, I’m glad she told me. I’m not just an idiot. There’s an actual reason why it’s hard to read.

“You won’t tell anyone?” I ask her.

“Not if you don’t want me to.”

I shake my head. “I don’t.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

If she says so. But I’m going to need some time to wrap my head around this.

“Sorry for springing it on you,” she says.

I shrug. “Guess there’s no easy way to tell someone that.”

She bites at her bottom lip. “Anything I can do to make it up to you?”

I can think of a whole lot of things I’d like her to do, but none of them are appropriate for a library parking lot.

“Truth or dare?” I ask.

Her lips part in disbelief. “Really?”

I nod in mock seriousness. “It’s the only thing you can do to make it up to me.”

She rolls her eyes, finally seeming like herself again. “Okay, but I’m picking truth. I can only imagine what you’d make me do if I picked dare again.”

There’s a jump in my belly at the reminder of our kiss from last time, but I push it aside. There’s something I’ve been curious about. “Have you ever dated anyone seriously before?”

I know she has. Her mom mentioned a failed relationship.

She frowns, her brows knitting together in confusion. “Um, yeah. I have. Why?”

No, she doesn’t ask the questions. I do. “When?” I ask, ignoring her question.

“My junior and senior years in college.”

I nod, wanting to know what I’m up against. On the ride home from that party last night, it had gotten stuck in my mind that if I knew about the kind of guys she’s into, I could...I don’t know. Not change. But be aware. To know if I even have a chance.

“Did you love him?”

She wraps her arms around her middle. “Yeah, I think.”

“You think?” Wouldn’t she know for sure?

She studies the pavement in front of her. “I thought I did. But then we graduated and Paul got a job in Seattle. We didn’t even discuss me going with him. We just kind of...broke up.”

I can’t tell from her tone if she’s sad about it. “Did you miss him?”

Her lips quirk to the side. “It sounds awful, but...not really. I realized so much of our relationship was about convenience. We lived in the same dorm and had the same major and classes.”

“So, he was smart like you?”

“He was brilliant.”

My stomach sinks. Back when I’d asked her what she looks for in a guy, she hadn’t mentioned brains—not that I was hanging on every word.

“But he could also be callous,” she continues. “If something wasn’t important to him, he didn’t understand how it could be important to anyone else.”

“And that bothered you?”

She hugs her arms tighter around herself and lifts one shoulder. “Of course. He’d dismiss or mock stuff I liked all the time. And then had the nerve to get seriously offended if I did the same to him.”

I want to reach for her, to unwrap the tight control she has around herself and let her borrow some of my strength. Instead, I simply run a hand down her upper arm in comfort.

“Does it bother you when I tease you about things?”

Her head tilts to the side. “I’m going to assume you mean now and not a month and a half ago.”

A breath of laughter escapes me. “Yeah, now.”

She gives a small shake of her head. “Teasing is different than mocking. I know you’re only trying to get under my skin, or to make me laugh.” She looks up at me, her face questioning. “Why are you asking all this, anyway?”

“I just...wanted to know.” Wow, that sounded lame. Maybe it’s time to leave. “I should get going.”

“Wait. I still get a turn. I told you my truth.”

I nod in concession. Fair’s fair. “I pick dare, then.”

“Of course you do.” She taps her finger to her lips. “I dare you to do a cartwheel.”

“What?” I laugh, not expecting her to say that.

She grins in response. “It’ll be fun.”

God, I haven’t done a cartwheel in close to two decades. “Right here?”

She nods, her earlier mood when talking about her ex gone, replaced with something lighter. Whatever makes her happy.

Taking my phone, wallet, and keys out of my pockets, I set them on the ground, then do the world’s worst excuse for a cartwheel.

She doubles over with laughter, wheezing out, “That was awful.”

“Hey, now. I did what you asked.” I gather my things off the ground, stuffing them back in my pockets.

She straightens and wipes at her eyes. “Sorry.” Then, she laughs again.

“You think that’s funny?”

I crowd her against my Mustang, loving the way she smiles up at me. The last time I’d had her in this position at the firehouse, she hadn’t been receptive. Today’s a different story.

Also, don’t think about having her in different positions.

Unable to help myself, I bend down, giving her a quick kiss on the lips.

“Hunter,” she admonishes. Even so, her smile doesn’t fully leave her. “I thought we agreed not to do that.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want to sleep with me.”

“No.” She looks at my chest, then smooths down the fabric of my shirt. I love when she touches me. “I said we shouldn’t let feelings and emotions get in the way.”

“Well, it’s too late for that. For me, at least.”

Her hand tightens on my shirt, twisting the fabric. “You can’t say stuff like that.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

She leaves it at that, not elaborating further.

Fine. She can have it her way. For now.

“All right. But for the record...” I wait until she looks up at me. “It’s not about the thrill of the chase with you. It’s about you. Period.”

I kiss her again, briefly, not wanting to push my luck, and leave her there, wide-eyed.

We won’t be training partners forever. And when that day comes, she better watch out.

Because she’s all mine then.