Flirting with Fire Read online

  Flirting with Fire

  Piper Rayne

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  © 2018 by Piper Rayne

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  Cover Photo: Wander Aguiar Photography

  Cover Design: RBA Designs

  Line Editor: Gray Ink Editing

  Proofreader: Shawna Gavas, Behind The Writer

  Contents

  Foreword

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Epilogue

  Cockamamie Unicorn Ramblings

  About Piper & Rayne

  Also by Piper Rayne

  Everyone knows that if you play with fire you'll end up getting burned…

  * * *

  What happens when you attend a first responder's bachelor auction with your best friends? Well, if your name is Madison Kelly like me, your friends end up bidding on a date for you with your high school crush.

  * * *

  That's right. Even back when I was 'Fatty Maddie' to all my classmates, I had eyes for the quarterback of our football team. Not like I was the only one.

  * * *

  Mauro Bianco may fight fires for a living, but he still sets my heart ablaze. One look at the rugged, muscular man he's turned into and I want to slide down his pole.

  * * *

  One date. That's all I'm committed to. A few hours and I can tuck him back into that tattered old shoebox in my closet.

  * * *

  As always, the universe has other plans. I never would've predicted that in a matter of days he'd turn from my dream guy into my business partner-and that's when things got interesting.

  Prologue

  Nine years ago…Highschool—AKA Hell

  Madison

  “I don’t want to go,” I whine for the hundredth time tonight.

  “Get out of the car.” Lauren stands on the driver’s side of my dad’s beat up Wrangler that he gave me last week for my sixteenth birthday.

  I push up my glasses. “It’s a senior party. I’ll let you pick the movie if we can please go back to my house. I’ll even let you sneak into my dad’s liquor cabinet.”

  Since this is my dad’s weekend, I get a tad more freedom with the newfound single life he’s embracing. It’s meant either late night or early morning arrivals back home depending on how easy the women are.

  Lauren grabs my hand, yanking me out of the truck. “I’m not sitting around watching some dumbass romantic comedy again.”

  I stumble out, my feet landing right in a puddle. My white trainers are now caked with brown mud. “Great. My mom’s going to kill me.”

  “It’s fine.” Lauren looks cool as usual. Lucky for her, the style of baggy pants and t-shirts are in, although she’s sported the same look since we were in kindergarten. Tonight, when her mom dropped her off, I knew there was trouble on the agenda when I noticed she had on a sheer layer of lip gloss.

  “Says you, who won’t be spending the next couple hours with her soaked socks squishing in her shoes.”

  She rolls her eyes. “If you would have let me dress you,” she singsongs.

  “Yeah, well my stomach doesn’t look like that in a tight t-shirt.” I point to her lean waist. “My back fat would be squeezing out the sides.”

  Lauren and I have been friends forever, but we’re completely different. After school, Lauren’s day is filled with soccer, softball or volleyball depending on the season. Mine is spent at home with the exception of the theater club where I’m a set designer. Did you think I have the leading role? Think again. Girls like me don’t get center stage.

  “Shut up. You’re perfect.” She swats at my shoulder like she usually does.

  I let the topic go because I don’t want to be the friend who brings other people down.

  The bonfire is roaring and a bunch of kids from our high school are sitting around on logs. Fall came early to Illinois this year.

  Some couples are making out and I glance away quickly. Other kids are enthralled in Keeten Berkshire’s telling of some urban myth about a girl who ventured into the woods years ago and was found cut up in pieces the next morning. We’ve all heard it a million times, but he adds his own spin to the story about how no one missed her because she was such an ugly loser.

  My stomach rumbles with nerves. I don’t belong here. Hell, Lauren only half belongs herself. The seniors from her soccer team invited her after she made the winning goal last week in a clincher. At least she actually talks to some of these people. Me, on the other hand, I’m way out of my comfort zone.

  “Let’s grab a beer first.” Lauren drags me the opposite way of the bonfire and part of me suspects she heard Keeten telling the story and she’s worried I’m going to run off scared and be the one found cut up into little pieces tomorrow morning.

  All the liquor is stashed in the woods so that if the cops come to break up the party, they won’t find any evidence of underage drinking.

  Sometimes I wonder about the intelligence of the police force. Don’t get me wrong, my classmates go to great lengths to cover it up. There’s a garbage can spray painted in camouflage that covers the keg. Different liquor bottles are set on opposite sides of the log with a green and brown tarp that someone took the time to sew together. But if I know this, how do the cops not?

  “I’m driving,” I say.

  She stops at the back of the line for the keg. Intrigued eyes scan over the two of us, probably wondering why the hell I’m here.

  “Oh yeah, well, hold a cup to look like you’re drinking.” She tosses me a red Solo cup.

  I hold it in my hands.

  “Not upside down.” She snatches it away and turns it over, shoving it back into my hand.

  “Jeez, calm down,” I grumble.

  I push my lips out over my braces because they’ve been more irritating than usual lately. I kind of wish I had that wax stuff so I won’t cut my lip again. Another six months and I’ll be free of these train tracks.

  My cheap-ass dad refused to get them for me when I was in middle school. His lame excuse was that I wasn’t responsible enough. Maybe he should be the one to visit the bonfire tonight and feel like an outcast compared to the others my age.

  The line takes forever to move, mostly because of a few girls at the front complaining about how their beer has too much head and the guys joking about wanting head themselves.

  I roll my eyes while Lauren interjects into their conversation with some crude comment of her own making them all laugh. The girl can fit in anywhere. It’s a constant reminder that I’m holding her back from bei
ng a ‘cool kid.’

  The other kids disperse, heading back to the bonfire with their filled Solo cups. A few giggling cheerleaders stumble over some branches, but their strong football player boyfriends come to their rescue.

  My heart aches to be one of those girls, but when babies in utero were handed the traits of a homecoming queen, I must’ve been missed.

  Sure, my mom is always rambling on about how people peak at different times in their lives. I keep telling myself that I’m smart and I’m going to get into a good college. I just need to believe once my braces are off and I convince my dad that he’s not wasting money on contacts, things will improve.

  Okay, and maybe get my act together by running with Lauren when she asks. Maybe then I won’t have to wait until my hormones finally wake up and let me peak.

  “Maddie!” Lauren hollers and I’m dragged from my thoughts.

  I stare down at my cup overflowing with beer under the tap. “Sorry.” I take my cup from her but stay in place.

  Why is she filling my cup?

  “The tap is fucked up and it won’t stop. No one wants to miss out, so move along.” Lauren motions with her hand and my brain finally processes the sighs behind me.

  “Sorry,” I say, stepping out of the way, my beer sloshing over the side of the cup. I push my glasses up on my nose.

  “Let’s head back to the fire.” Lauren slides her arm through mine, leading the way. Her athletic and coordinated stride means she doesn’t trip over a single branch in the dark but saves me from falling on my face twice.

  The fire grows larger. I know this because I’ve been studying it for the past half hour since Lauren said she was going to head back to refill her cup and never returned. Not in the mood to risk my ankle again, I chose to stay in place.

  The night is going fine. Lauren introduced me to her senior soccer teammates who smiled politely and carried on talking about the team they’re playing next week. I’m not standing alone and the other people around aren’t mean so I can’t complain.

  Then Lauren asked if I wanted a refill. I’d dumped half my beer in the grass and pretended to sip on the rest.

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  “Well, I’ll be right back.” Lauren tightened her hand over my forearm to assure me she wouldn’t be long.

  I took a spot across from the make-out couples. Somewhere between the mesmerizing orange and yellow flames I forgot where I was, letting my mind drift to a time in my life when I wouldn’t be the awkward loser. It was hard sometimes to believe that there ever would be such a time. Why wasn’t I born gorgeous? Why were my hips so wide and why didn’t the skinny gene run in my family? Having a cheap-ass father only added to my problems.

  Something caught my eye and I glanced up over the flames. My heart leaped in my chest right before it lodged in my throat.

  Mauro Bianco.

  He’s staring back at me.

  I look away but sneak a glance back a second later. That’s when I realize that he isn’t staring at me, he’s mesmerized by the fire as well.

  I study his face. The way the fire reflects in his blue eyes transfixes me so that I don’t notice right away when liquid is pouring down my back.

  “Ugh!” I stand up, grabbing the fabric from the back of my dress.

  “Oh shit, sorry,” Kami whoever from my physics class says. “Good thing the dress is ugly as fuck.”

  The other girls in her group all laugh, remarking how funny her comment is and confirming how ugly my dress is.

  My shoulders slump and though I wish I could stand up to them, I only turn around. Mauro is gone.

  I search the area for Lauren, but she’s nowhere in sight. At this point, I’m cutting my losses and leaving this bonfire with the hopes that she never drags me anywhere like this again. I’ve been meaning to read the hot new dystopian series everyone is raving about anyway.

  Wandering around, I try to ignore the feeling that everyone is staring at me, whispering to their friends with wonderment as to why I’m here. Once I reach the treeline, I contemplate if I want to chance heading back by the drinks. Lauren’s been gone for forty-five minutes now and I’ve reached the conclusion that she’s lip-locked with a jock somewhere.

  Squinting—as if that ever helped anyone see better in the dark—I peer through the trees, not seeing anyone. Not the keg, not the alcohol and not the line of kids. Could they have moved it?

  Pulling out my phone, I shine it through the trees to see if my usual sense of direction is playing tricks on me.

  “Mind not blinding me?” a deep voice asks, and I can only make out a large guy shielding his eyes as he walks out of the foliage.

  “Sorry,” I mumble, feeling like an idiot.

  The closer he gets the clearer the person becomes. His letterman jacket. The worn jeans that cover big brown boots. His backward baseball cap and the scruff along his face that a high school senior shouldn’t have.

  “Hey.” He snaps his fingers and points to me, as if he’s trying to remember my name.

  Of course, I’ve daydreamed about our wedding and he doesn’t even know my name.

  “Maddie,” I say.

  His hand lands on the tree behind my head and my stomach tingles with anticipation until the rancid smell of alcohol surrounds me when he breathes.

  He’s drunk.

  “Right. Maddie. Never seen you at one of these things.”

  I push up my glasses for the millionth time. “Yeah, uh. Hopefully you didn’t rub against any toxicodendron radicans.” I point to the forest behind him as my face heats.

  I finally get the chance to talk to him and this is what I come up with?

  “What?” He shakes his head like he didn’t understand me. “I’m having a bad night. I don’t usually drink but…” His words trail off and I’m not sure if he lost his train of thought or is just choosing not to continue.

  “It happens.” I nod at the woods. “Did you see anyone else in there?”

  He looks back toward the woods like he doesn’t remember coming out of there.

  “I try not to check out other people while they’re taking a piss.” He chuckles and his eyes light up in that aqua color that makes me tongue-tied.

  “Oh, I thought the alcohol was back there.”

  He chuckles a deep rumble and an energy charges between my thighs. The sensation is one I’m not familiar with.

  “This is the piss stop, that’s the refill station.” He points to the other side of the woods past the bonfire.

  Shit.

  “Okay, thanks.” I head in the other direction to look for Lauren, praying to God he doesn’t remember this encounter tomorrow.

  His hand grabs mine before I get far enough away, igniting a rush of goose bumps along my skin. “You seem sober.”

  “And you could tell that how?”

  One side of his lips tick up into a smirk. “Funny and smart, huh?”

  “How do you know I’m smart?”

  “Those two fancy words you said earlier. Why not just say poison ivy?”

  I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face and I’m sure that if someone snapped a picture right now, I’d be looking up at him in adoration. “How do you know they mean poison ivy?”

  His smirk grows and turns wildly attractive and has me involuntarily clenching my thighs. “What else could I rub against that would cause me harm in a forest? Not all jocks are dumb.”

  My head snaps back in surprise. “I never said that.”

  “You stereotype I’m sure.” His tone has done a one-eighty from moments before.

  I stare down at his hand on my arm and he follows my vision, retracting it.

  “Sorry.”

  “I am sober, so what do you want?” I ask, happy to change the subject.

  “A ride home? I need to sleep this shit off.”

  In a car alone with my crush? I glance around for a camera crew to charge out of the woods and tell me I’m on Punk’d. Jocks only fall for the geeks in the movies. That’s
not real life, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to say no. I didn’t get my 4.0 grade point average for nothing.

  “Let me grab my friend and I can drive you.”

  “Cool.” He walks alongside me toward the bonfire and I can’t help but wonder what everyone else here is going to think when they see us together.

  I should’ve known things would not go as smoothly as I hoped.

  After tracking Lauren down with Jay Hewitt, the captain of the varsity soccer team, it confirmed my earlier thought that I truly am holding her back. Even worse was that Jay said he’d drive her back to my house after the bonfire died down and Lauren agreed.

  This leaves me alone with Mauro. I can’t be trusted not to make a complete ass of myself. I don’t know what it is about him. When he’s around, it’s like I’m incapable of forming a complete thought.

  He decided he didn’t want to walk around the party with me on a wild goose chase, so I gave him directions to meet me at my Wrangler. I told myself it wasn’t because he didn’t want to be seen walking around with me, and that it’s probably just because he’s so drunk.

  I’m still wondering if he’ll be there when I make it back to where I parked.

  Hightailing it back the other way through the muddy grass area, I find Mauro leaning against the truck.