From Air (Wildfire)

Chapter Thirteen

CALVIN

During my years as a firefighter, I’ve heard my fair share of bloodcurdling screams. However, as I get out of my truck, I don’t expect to hear one coming from my house.

I sprint through the door, resisting the urge to kick it down. When I race past the entry, I find Jamie standing on the kitchen counter, one hand gripping the top of the fridge and her other hand cupped over her mouth.

Eyes wide.

Legs shaking.

I don’t smell smoke. Is someone in the house? I can’t get a read on the situation other than that she’s paralyzed with panic.

“Run!” She points toward me.

A mouse runs past my boot and hides under the sofa.

I follow the mouse’s path, inspecting every kitchen corner before glancing at Jamie. “Where is it?”

Her brow lines with as much confusion as I have in mine. “You just watched it run under the sofa.”

“No. Where is the rattlesnake? The bear? The mountain lion? The escaped convict? Where is the scary thing that was chasing the mouse?”

She scowls.

“Tell me you’re not on the counter screaming your lungs out at a measly little mouse.”

“Did you see it? All”—she wiggles her fingers—“fast and twitchy. Beady little eyes. A horrifying critter spreading disease, stealing food, and chewing through the furniture.”

“Get down.” I hold out my hand.

She shakes her head, pulling down the long sleeves of her fitted white T-shirt to hide her hands. “It’s under the sofa. Get it.”

I try not to laugh, but she’s quite the sight. “Maybe I need to get on the counter too. Will might show up soon. He was looking for it the other day. Why should I risk my life if you’re unwilling to risk yours?”

Her frown deepens. “I’m irrationally scared of a mouse. I need you to be my hero today and get rid of it. Is that what you need to hear?”

My lips corkscrew, and I nod several times. “That works. Be right back. Keep an eye on Mickey.”

“Where are you going?” she shrieks.

“He won’t come when called, so I must entice him.” I jog to the garage and retrieve the right tool for the job.

When I return and open the fridge, she gasps. “What are you doing with that?”

I spread peanut butter on the mousetrap and set it.

“No. Nooo way.”

I place the trap by the sofa.

“Fitz, no. You can’t kill it.”

“Sorry, Jaymes. We don’t have a choice. When bears attack humans, they have to be put down because they’ve tasted human blood, which means they’re more likely to attack humans again. Mice are no different.” I return the peanut butter to the fridge. “That mouse has heard your terrified screams. Now it craves that reaction and will dedicate its life to scaring the shit out of you. If I don’t eliminate the mouse, it will hunt you down, run across your bare feet, and burrow into your shed.”

She slowly hunches, lowering her butt to the counter and letting her legs dangle off the side. “Calvin Fitzgerald.”

“Jaymes Andrews.” I stuff my hands into my pockets but can’t hide my impish grin.

She bites her lip, partially disguising her smile. “You are the most intense person I have ever known. But at the same time, you don’t have a serious bone in your body. That makes you an enigma. Most days, I can’t decide if you like me or can’t stand me.” Her lips turn into a pouty frown.

I rest my hands next to hers on the edge of the counter. “I like you too much.”

“I’m not having sex with you, Fitz,” she whispers when my gaze drifts to her neck and lower to the outline of her nipples beneath her tight shirt.

“If I had a dime for every time I heard that”—I lean in until my nose touches her neck, inhaling her floral scent while my lips skate along her collarbone—“I’d have zero dimes.”

Her body vibrates with laughter, and I wish it would shake me out of this. Whatever this is.

Am I bored?

Lonely?

Having an early midlife crisis?

I don’t want a girlfriend or a wife because I’m happily married to my job. Kids? Hell no. I don’t need anyone to leave behind. Being left behind is fucking awful.

Still, my hands slide up her arms, and I kiss her neck. Something’s overriding common sense. This is headed for a self-preservation debacle. Will I destroy her to protect her from my past? My biggest fear. Or will I lose myself in whatever this is between us and resent her for being my weakness?

Jamie draws in a shaky breath that silences her laughter while her head lolls to the side.

I’m a dumb fuck. There’s no denying that.

Self-torture? Check.

Risking my current residence? Check.

Disregarding Will’s nonnegotiable house rule? Double check.

Maybe that’s okay, since I have no plans to let it go past this. I’m technically not breaking any rules. I’ll keep my lips above her shoulders and my hands in neutral territory.

Our lips fuse, and I fight my mind’s urge to make sense of this.

Does this have to make sense?

I’ve dined on SPAM marinated in Kool-Aid. To the average person, that doesn’t make sense. And it doesn’t have to.

Her hands rest on my chest and slide south. I grab her wrists. “Nope,” I say between kisses.

She bites my lower lip, and I’m forced to suppress a moan, which channels all the tension straight into my dick. We might need our own set of rules.

SNAP!

“Ahh!” She leaps off the counter, wrapping her arms and legs around my torso.

“What’s going on?” Maren’s accusatory tone is the cherry on top of this clusterfuck as the front door clicks shut behind her.

Fuck. That was close. Too close.

Jamie’s gaping eyes fill with distrust.

I peel her arms and legs off me.

“Yuck. Yuck. Yuck!” Jamie runs out the back door—no shoes and no explanation to Maren.

I retrieve the trapped mouse and hold it in the air.

Maren doesn’t flinch. “Will’s going to be thrilled.”

“Unlike Jamie.” I smirk.

Maren laughs, shrugging off her brown wool coat. “That did look suspect for a moment. Is that why she was holding on to you for dear life?”

“No. She suddenly felt really horny. I tried to push her away, but—”

Maren snorts. “I’m not buying that one.” She collapses onto the sofa and checks her phone.

Good. I don’t want her to buy it.

“I’m going to toss Mickey in the trash and make sure our new roomie isn’t stuck in the corner of the shed in the fetal position.”

“I love that about her. She’s not like the rest of us. It’s refreshing.”

“It’s something,” I mumble before heading outside to dispose of the mouse. Once that’s done, I knock on the shed door.

“Come in,” Jamie calls in a muffled tone.

When I open the door, she glances up from the bed, where she’s dangling upside down off the side, looking underneath it.

“Seeing if Mickey has a family?”

She flips her head up, kneeling on the bed, and flicks the hair out of her eyes. “Fitz, you killed that mouse. I swear I heard it scream. Did you hear it? And, oh my god.” She covers her mouth for a second, eyes wide. “We. Almost. Got. Caught.”

I acknowledge her with an easy nod. “We should stop.”

I 1,000 percent don’t mean it.

After a long pause, lips slightly parted, she nods. “Probably.”

Well, shit.

“No pouting.”

Her nose scrunches. “What? I don’t pout.”

I cross my arms and widen my stance. “It’s easy to say that now because I just gave you what you wanted. But in a few days, when you’re having withdrawal, I bet the pout comes out.”

“Um ... no. If anything, you’ll be sulking because the only woman in the world who gets you has now banned you from kissing her. And that’s going to suck for you. Maybe try to avoid Will and Maren until you can get a grip on your sulkiness.”

“I can take it or leave it, baby.” I shrug.

Baby? I don’t say that shit. I need to jump. I need to ride the adrenaline high. I’m bored. That’s the only explanation for my taking the bait. She’s distracting only because I’m not focused. In another month, I’ll look back and laugh at this ridiculousness.

Jamie smiles, but it looks forced. “Well, there you have it. You’ll have more time for Mrs. Wilke now that you’re not kissing me.” She stands at her mirror and brushes her hair. “I hope I haven’t driven a wedge between you. If you need me to apologize for my behavior, I’d happily help get you out of the doghouse.”

It’s impossible to hide my grin. “I’ll handle her. I’m quite good at it.”

Jamie’s cheeks turn red, but she giggles and throws my favorite line back at me. “Get the fuck out of here.”