Light Her Fire Read online

  Or she changed her mind about tangling with a guy who almost got her fired.

  Easy come, easy go. At least it always had been, yet for some jacked-up reason, the thought of Melody changing her mind left him feeling exactly like he’d felt one Christmas as a kid, when he’d asked for a Game Boy and unwrapped a calculator—except in this case, the degree of disappointment didn’t make any sense. Sure, last night he’d been inside her, a few slippery seconds from getting the job done, and yes, he was a guy who liked to finish what he started, but still…his eyes strayed to his phone again.

  Maybe she and Roger kissed and made up?

  Cut that shit out. He shoved his phone into his back pocket and squinted at the screen where the Reds were punishing the Dodgers for daring to show up. In his peripheral vision, he registered a couple guys come in and stop a few spaces down the bar. He looked over to find Junior Tillman and Tyler Longfoot. Tyler “Footlong” Longfoot, he mentally corrected, and decided a town was too damn small if a guy had to be drinking buddies with the man who shot him in the very same bar not two weeks ago. If that’s what it took to fit in around here, he’d just as soon not.

  “Hey, Earl,” Junior called out, hoisting his fireplug of a frame onto a barstool. The bar owner gave him an I-see-you look and finished taking orders at the other end of the bar. Junior glanced over at Josh and nodded. “How’s it going, Chief?”

  “Reds are up, five-oh.”

  “Well, all right then.” Junior scooted his barstool closer to get a better angle on the screen. “Ty, you met the chief yet?”

  Tyler frowned at his phone.

  Junior looked back at Josh, grinned as if to say, “watch this,” and bellowed, “Ty!”

  The taller man dropped his phone on the bar and jerked his head up. “Jesus, Ma, what?”

  “Jesus yourself. My cousin with the wife in Lexington and the girlfriend in Covington doesn’t check his phone as much as you’ve checked yours today. What is up with you?”

  “Nothing,” Tyler shot back, and put his phone away. Josh might have shared Junior’s amusement at the look of utter frustration on Tyler’s face, except he feared he’d stared at his phone with just the same look not two minutes ago.

  “Nothing, my ass. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were pining for a call.”

  “I’m pining for one goddamn moment of peace. And a beer. Earl?” he called out to the older man still at the other end of the bar. Earl waved him off without looking up from pouring Basil Hayden’s over ice.

  “Can I get this round, Chief?” Junior asked.

  “Sure. Thanks.” He had nothing better to do tonight than hang out at Rawley’s, watching a shutout and observing the locals. Wait…did his phone just vibrate? He retrieved it from his back pocket and checked the dark screen.

  “Oh, shit. Not you, too.” Junior chuckled and, for Earl’s benefit, pointed at Josh’s beer and held up three fingers.

  “No. It’s true. I’m also pining for a beer,” Josh deadpanned.

  “And a call, I’m hazarding to guess by the way you’re gripping your phone.” Junior accepted the beer Earl handed over, took a swallow, and went on, “As long as I’m in a guessing mood, I’ll bet I can guess who’s going to light up your phone any minute now.”

  “Knock yourself out.” Josh tried to keep his voice neutral, but he couldn’t stop himself from glancing at Tyler. Had Ellie run and told him what she’d seen at the office last night? And Tyler, in turn, told Junior, and so on, and so on? So much for Melody’s reputation. Cold needles of guilt pricked his conscience, but then burned away under a flash of anger. Couldn’t anybody keep a damn thing to themselves in Bluelick? If life in a small town meant having his personal business passed around like a bag of chips, he needed to get the hell out sooner rather than later.

  “Let me consult my spirit adviser.” Junior lifted his beer to his forehead, closed his eyes, and made a show of tuning in to some message from his drink. “I’m getting a name. Melissa? No, that’s not right. Melinda…no…” He opened his eyes and grinned. “Melody Merritt.”

  He narrowed his eyes at Longfoot. The dark-haired man stared back with a what-the-fuck-is-your-problem expression. Josh shifted his gaze to the shorter man. “What makes you say that?”

  Junior laughed. “I saw Rusty at the Jiffy Java this morning, and he mentioned you brought our Mel ’round for a tour of the firehouse last night.”

  “Sorry you and Rusty don’t have better things to talk about than my comings and goings.”

  “Ah, well, Rusty used to date Mel’s older sister, and I guess he still feels a mite protective. He’s accustomed to thinking of Melody as Roger’s girl, and he’s not so sure about your intentions.”

  “Are you worried about my intentions, too?”

  “Me? Nah. I like Melody, but she’s a grown-ass woman. I like Roger, too, but he had her off the market for a long time, and failed to seal the deal. She wants something new? Heck, you’re the newest thing around. You qualify. I’ve got no problem with that. What do you say, Ty?”

  Longfoot took a slow sip of his beer and then set it down carefully and stared at Josh. “I agree. Now, if I felt like someone was taking advantage, or not treating her right—”

  “Yeah.” Junior nodded and tapped his beer to his friend’s. “Then we’d have a problem.”

  Apparently Rusty wasn’t the only one feeling protective toward Miss Bluelick.

  “You know what I’ve learned over the years?”

  Longfoot shook his head. “Enlighten us, Chief.”

  “People who mind their own business tend to have fewer problems.” The chime of his phone somewhat undermined the not-so-subtle “fuck off” in his reply, especially when he fumbled it in his haste to answer because the screen read “Bluelick.”

  He hit the green button, raised the device to his ear, and said, “Working hard?”

  Melody’s tinkling laugh washed over him like a summer shower. “I’m happy to report I am still gainfully employed, and yes, we did work hard today. I’m sorry I didn’t contact you earlier, but things were kind of nonstop.”

  “No worries. I figured no news was good news.” Liar. The blare of a horn from the other end of the line pulled his attention away from his conscience. Melody said, “God, he’s such a little jerk,” under her breath.

  “Are you in the car?”

  “Yes. I’m headed to Roger’s. Justin Buchanan just honked at Ed Pinkerton for stepping into the crosswalk. I wish the sheriff would yank his license before he runs over someone.”

  “Justin?”

  “Yeah. But since his daddy’s the mayor, I doubt I’ll get my wish.”

  Not if Bluelick’s politics worked the way most politics worked, but he made a mental note to keep an eye on the Buchanan kid. The mayor was, technically, his boss, but nowhere in Josh’s book did that entitle the younger Buchanan to a free pass. “Don’t hold your breath,” he agreed, “but do drive safe.” Then, because he couldn’t stop himself, he added, “Say hi to Roger for me.”

  “Hmm. You reckon on being a topic of discussion tonight, do you?”

  “I can’t imagine what else you’d talk about.” The exasperated sound he got back as a reply made him grin. “See you Friday. Seven.”

  “Wait. Do you want my home number, in case something comes up?”

  Something was already coming up, just from talking with her. Nothing short of a towering inferno would keep him away from her Friday. “No need, Bluelick. I’ve got your number.”

  …

  “So then he says, ‘No need, Bluelick. I’ve got your number.’” After pitching her voice down a couple octaves to emulate Josh, Melody took a sip of her chardonnay, sat back on Roger’s couch, and smiled at Doug, her ex-fiancé’s boyfriend.

  The dark-haired man with striking gray eyes sitting in the leather chair opposite her laughed. It was a deep, rich sound that bounced off the brick walls of Roger’s riverfront condo and blended with the sound of Roger’s softer, more restrai
ned amusement flowing in from the kitchen. Melody secretly sighed. They seemed so happy. She took another sip of her second glass of wine and let the mood carry her.

  “Sounds like he does. But let’s back up a second, because I’m still getting over the part where your boss walked in on you while Chief Bradley was, shall we say, putting out your fire.”

  She cringed at the memory. “Yeah. I’m still getting over it, too. The good news is I remain employed. Ellie pretty much laughed the whole thing off.”

  “You know, it’s a small world. We ran into her last night, too.”

  Roger bustled in from the kitchen and placed a tray of cheese and crackers on the coffee table. He cleared his throat, and nodded. “Yes. In Lexington. Her and Tyler.”

  “Ellie seemed very sweet.”

  “She is very sweet, and after last night, I’d add incredibly understanding. Which brings me to another topic.”

  She sipped her wine and waited while Roger settled himself on the sofa next to her. The last golden rays of sun slanted through the big, rippling panes of the living room window and bathed him in light. He looked like a poorly disguised angel—glowing skin, neatly trimmed blond hair nearly gilt around the edges, and deep blue eyes full of secrets.

  His secrets, unfortunately, were her current problem. She put down her glass and faced him. “You need to talk to Ellie.”

  He gave her a guarded look. “I talk to Ellie all the time. Spoke to her this morning at Jiffy Java, in fact.”

  “I know. You invited her on a date. Why would you do that?”

  His brows shot up. “I didn’t. I mean, it wasn’t a date. I invited her over for dinner tonight.”

  “Were you clear it was a group dinner? Because I don’t think she caught that part.”

  Now his surprise turned guilty. “I don’t know. We were standing in the middle of the coffee shop, and I was trying to be quick and discreet. Anyway, she couldn’t make it tonight, so she invited me over to her place for dinner after I get back from vacation.”

  “Why, why, why the sudden interest in socializing with Ellie? If you’re using her to make people around here think you’re straight—”

  “He’s doing damage control,” Doug explained.

  She shifted her gaze from Roger, who’d paled at her accusation, and focused on Doug. “Damage control?”

  The dark-haired man smiled, but she caught a hint of an edge to it, directed at Roger. “We ran into Ellie and Tyler last night at the Slap N’ Tickle. We all exchanged the obligatory lie about being there to buy stuff for a bachelor party, but Roger’s worried she’s going to tell everyone in Bluelick she caught him and his astoundingly gorgeous ‘friend’ shopping in the Hardy Boys section of Lexington’s largest adult toy store. And then sun—”

  “My father would have a stroke and my mother would blame me for killing him.”

  Melody waved her hand, batting the comment away. “Sweetie, your father survived a year in Vietnam. You mother survived an emergency appendectomy. I highly doubt an honest discussion about your sexual orientation is going to cause either of them to stroke out.”

  “They’d be hurt and disappointed.”

  “No more so than they are now, by the wall you keep between them and you. Don’t you think they can feel the distance? They know you’re not happy, they just can’t figure out why. You don’t give them enough credit.”

  The sunbeams had shifted to the space on the sofa between them, and Roger sat in his shadowed corner, staring at the floor, looking miserable and alone. All her indignation on behalf of his parents, and Ellie, and, if she were honest, herself, faded. She felt like a big bully. An apology sprang to her lips, but Doug caught her eye and shook his head.

  “Something to consider,” he said.

  “I am considering it,” Roger shot back. “I do consider it. Constantly. Do you think I like this lie I’m living? You think I don’t feel like fraud, and a jerk? I do. About the only thing I know is I can’t handle feeling any worse.”

  As much as she hated to push him, she circled back to her original point. “Can you handle coming out to Ellie? If you can’t, will you let me tell her?”

  “Mel, there’s no way she doesn’t already know. She saw us…” He looked at Doug for confirmation.

  “She might not have picked up on the implications. Tyler? Yes. Ellie? I’m not so sure.”

  “She didn’t,” Melody insisted. “She thinks you two have a date when you get back.”

  “Fine. Okay.” Roger scrubbed a hand over his face. “I know you’re both wrong, but when I see her next, I’ll talk to her. I’ll just”—he made a sweeping motion with his hands—“come right out and say it, so there are no misunderstandings. Then I’ll beg her to keep it to herself.”

  Doug cocked a brow at Melody. “We’re all relying on Dr. Swann’s discretion these days.”

  She felt her face heat like an oven. “Yes, I guess we are, but part of me wouldn’t care if she told the world she’d caught Chief Bradley putting out Melody Merritt’s fire in an exam room last night. It might be liberating to shake off my ‘good girl’ reputation.”

  “You are a good girl,” Roger pointed out.

  “Yeah, well, good is overrated. I’m tired of people looking at me and seeing poor Melody and her broken engagement.” Not to mention the rumor as to why she’d broken it off. Half the town believed she was too much of a princess to enjoy an adventurous sex life. “I’d just as soon give them something else to talk about.”

  “So, Friday night, are you going to finish what you started with the fire chief?” Roger asked.

  “If he shows up, ready and willing, yes.”

  “Atta girl,” Doug commented, at the same time Roger frowned and said, “I don’t know this guy. What if he’s only after one thing?”

  “Um, no offense, Roger, but after all this time, I’m only after one thing.

  “The only problem is…” She hesitated, tucked her feet beneath her, glanced at Roger, who looked like he was about to have a coronary, and then blurted out her biggest concern. “What if I’m a huge fail, sexually?”

  “Mel,” Roger interjected, “failure’s not in the cards. The only thing wrong with your sex life up ’til now was me.”

  Well, shoot, Melody. Watch what you say. She’d already beaten him up about his parents and Ellie. No need to heap more guilt on his doorstep. She rubbed his shoulder. “This is completely a me thing. Last night I insinuated I had a lot more experience than I do. I just—I don’t know—you must have felt this way, too…like you didn’t know what you were doing. What if I don’t know how to please a man?” With that admission, she chugged the last of her wine.

  Doug lifted the bottle from the coffee table and refilled her glass. “As it turns out, we’re experts on how to please a man. What do you want to know?”

  She took another drink. Good wine. Much better than what they served at Rawley’s. “Well, he seemed to like…ahem…spanking me. Is that typical?”

  “Oh my God.” Roger hunched his shoulders and drank his cabernet.

  “Why settle for typical?” Doug asked. “As long as you were into it, too, it’s all good.”

  Wow. This was helping. She scooted forward in her seat. “Okay, I admit, I liked everything he did. But what do I come back with? I mean, does he want me to spank him, or—”

  “Titwank.”

  Roger muttered, “Oh my God,” again, and closed his eyes.

  She shook her head to clear it. “Tit-what?”

  “Okay, how can I explain this delicately…” Doug glanced at the ceiling, then at Roger, and then at her. “There’s no way. I’m just going to be blunt.”

  “Blunt’s fine. I’m good with blunt.”

  “Let him fuck your cleavage. Thanks to Playboy and Cosmo, guys fantasize about breasts from a young age. Trust me, seeing his cock lodged between yours is going to satisfy a fantasy Chief Bradley has nurtured since adolescence.”

  She looked doubtfully down at the front of her shirt. �
��I don’t have Cosmo cover cleavage.”

  Roger’s cheeks turned as red as his wine. “You do, Mel. I promise. If I were into—oh Jesus, I can’t believe I’m about to say this out loud—fucking tits, yours would be at the top of the list.”

  She looked down at the tits in question again. “Really?”

  “Swear to God.”

  “Wow. Titwank. I’ve never even heard of it.” She turned to Doug. “What else should I know?”

  “Well, I don’t think it’s much of a secret guys like blow jobs. But if you want to drain him so completely he passes out from the experience, you’ve got to—”

  “Doug…” Roger warned.

  “She wants to know.”

  Holy crap. She didn’t just want to know, she needed to know. “I do!” She clapped her hand down on Roger’s shoulder. “I want to know how to make him pass out from my blow job.”

  “Of course you do,” Doug agreed. “Everyone wants that.”

  “Roger?”

  He cleared his throat. “Okay. All right. Fine. You have to…um…at the moment of truth…you have to go for the…A-play.”

  “The A-play?”

  He coughed, cleared his throat again, and reached for his phone. A few screen taps later, he handed it to her. “The A-play.”

  A world of information stared back from the phone’s screen. Hers for the Googling. She read the description and raised her eyebrows. “You sure that’s not strictly a gay thing?”

  Doug shook his head. “It’s a guy thing. Don’t ask permission. Just do it. His body’s reaction will be all the thank-you you can handle.”

  Roger nodded.

  “Jeez. What else?”

  Doug leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees. “Roger showed me your high school yearbook. Do you still have your cheerleading uniform?”

  “It’s in the back of my closet. Why?”

  “And the pom-poms?

  “I don’t know. Maybe. I’d have to dig through some boxes.”

  “Take him back to high school. Put the uniform on, shake the pom-poms, and do a cheer for him. He’ll roll over and beg like a puppy.”