Flirting with Fire Page 13

  When he said, ‘one taste’ like he was begging for one drop of water in the Sierra Desert.

  I drop my loofa on the floor of the marble shower and my hand slips below my belly button imagining the weight of Mauro’s body over mine. His lips, his hands in exploration of every inch of my skin.

  Five minutes later, my body shudders and the glass door rattles under the pressure of my other hand. An emptiness sets in, knowing my imagination and my hand are not going to ever be enough to quench my thirst for Mauro.

  I liked it better when I thought he was an ass.

  I step out of the shower and begin to dry off when my phone chirps from its position on the counter.

  Mauro: I want to apologize for tonight.

  I wrap myself in a towel and take my phone over to my bed, sitting down and leaning back against the headboard.

  Me: No need. It’s really none of my business.

  The three dots appear immediately.

  Mauro: Should we talk about the kiss?

  Me: There was no kiss.

  Mauro: I wanted there to be. That’s what we need to discuss.

  God, I wanted there to be, too, and if he only knew what my mind took the liberty of exploring moments ago in the shower, he’d probably be surprised at how dirty my mind could be.

  Me: It was a moment of weakness. Just forget it.

  Mauro: I don’t think it will be our last.

  Me: We need to make sure it is.

  Mauro: Madison, I want you.

  My nerves tingle and an unbelievable feeling of euphoria fills every cell in my body.

  Me: Mauro…

  Mauro: Tell me you don’t feel the same?

  Me: We should talk face-to-face.

  Mauro: If we were face-to-face right now there’d be no talking.

  I smile like a goon.

  Me: We just need to keep a firm line drawn.

  Mauro: So that’s a no?

  Me: No to what?

  Mauro: No to you wanting me. You don’t want to jump me?

  Me: Maybe like Lauren jumped you a few times.

  Mauro: LOL… I’m serious. I gotta know if I’m in this alone.

  Me: Why do you have to know?

  “Who’s that?” Lauren walks by in her pajama shorts and cami, her hair still tucked into a towel.

  “No one.”

  “Tell Mauro I can still kick his ass,” she says and heads down the stairs.

  Mauro: I need to know that if I kiss you, you won’t pull away.

  Me: You can’t kiss me.

  Mauro: That wasn’t part of the buying agreement.

  Me: I added the stipulation.

  Mauro: We’re both adults here. We can handle it.

  Me: Time to think with your other head, Mauro.

  Mauro texts a laughing gif.

  Mauro: Don’t be funny, that only makes me think with the wrong head.

  Me: I think it suffices to say this conversation is going in a circle and will never end.

  Mauro: It will when you agree to let me kiss you.

  Me: I have to go get some sleep. And I believe you have to get up early for a shift.

  Mauro: You’re gonna leave me hanging like that? I can describe in great detail what it will be like if you want.

  The blush encompasses my entire body.

  Me: Gotta go now. See you in a couple of days.

  Mauro: I’ll be counting the minutes.

  I shake my head and don’t respond because who knows what will spill out of his mouth next.

  When we began this partnership, I figured my biggest challenge would be keeping my own attraction to him in check. I didn’t consider the fact that he might like me, too.

  The next night, I’m vegging on the couch after a long day of grabbing samples from textile and paint companies. And when I say vegging I mean carrots, cucumbers, and celery with ranch dip.

  I’m flipping through the channels by myself—Vanessa is gone again—and Lauren is out on a date—not with Luca. I breeze by Chicago Fire since that would only remind me of Mauro, but the ticker on the bottom of the screen grabs my attention. It’s a breaking news alert and with everything going on in the world today I figure I better read it in case I need to head for cover.

  I sit up, squinting to see the small print when the words fire, high-rise, and danger catch my eye. It goes on to say that all available engines have been called because it’s out of control and there’s a chance the blaze will spread to the high-rise beside it.

  All too quickly Chicago Fire disappears from the screen and a news anchor appears, the scene behind her reminds me of a war zone—emergency vehicles everywhere and a fire blazing out of control in the building behind her.

  I swear my heart stills inside of my chest and I sit on the edge of my couch, my phone in hand.

  One fire truck after another pulls in behind the woman, each raising their ladders up in the air. Some firefighters climb them, others run inside with hoses and masks on. Angry red and yellow flames pour out windows on the one side of the high-rise condo building.

  I pick up my cell phone knowing I won’t get an answer.

  Me: Mauro, please let me know when you get back to the station so I know you’re okay. I saw the fire on tv.

  Is this what it’s like to care about someone who works in emergency services? I have more compassion for Cailin now and what she must have gone through every night her husband was on shift and then when she eventually lost him.

  I lean back on the couch, trying not to let my worst fears invade my mind.

  Hours go by and the news is no longer covering the fire, they’ve gone back to their regular programming while I pace back and forth. This feeling of helplessness is horrible. The waiting even more so.

  I pull out my phone and look up where Engine Fifty-Five is located.

  I shouldn’t go.

  I’ll look like a loon.

  I don’t even have to talk to him. I just need a glimpse of him when the truck pulls in.

  I won’t sleep until I know.

  I grab the keys off the table and race out to my car.

  The street the fire station is on is lined with cars. There are some reporters hovering around the red doors, but they’re all shut, meaning the firetruck hasn’t returned yet. I drive around the block, circling back to see the same scene as before.

  I decide to park on a side street. I don’t want to chance looking like a stalker around the firehouse, so I sit tight and decide that every ten minutes I’ll drive around the block.

  And yes, in case you’re wondering, I’m fully aware that I am out of my mind.

  The thought of something really bad happening to Mauro has me acting like a crazy woman. His friend Hunter died not that long ago in a fire at a commercial building that they didn’t know had explosives in it because it had been abandoned. It goes to show that anything can happen.

  The sixth time driving around the block the bay doors are open with two firetrucks and an ambulance inside each one. The guys are taking their gear off and cleaning up the trucks.

  Double parking for a second, I catch a glimpse of Mauro stepping out of his bunker pants. His face has soot on it and there’s a trace of blood from his eyebrow down to his lip, his hair a sweaty mess. But he’s alive and to me, he’s never looked better.

  The tension dissipates from my body and I pull away before he notices my car.

  On the ride home, I realize how much trouble I’m in. I’ve done the one thing I shouldn’t have. I’ve fallen for him, truly fallen for him as a person, and his text messages suggest he has for me as well.

  But does he want me for more than one night?

  Even if he did, would the novelty wear off after he had me for a while and he figures out I’m still the nerdy girl I was in high school at heart?

  Once I’m inside the house, I head to bed, falling into the softness of my mattress. My phone dings an hour later, stirring me from sleep.

  Mauro: I like you checking up on me. Tough one, but I’
m okay. Maybe you can show your civil serviceman some gratitude tomorrow with a kiss.

  My girly parts go into a full five-alarm fire and I don’t respond because right now the only thing I’d be texting him back would be to come straight over when he finishes his shift in the morning.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Mauro

  I’m not sure what I expected when I walked into the tile store. Okay, that’s bullshit. I expected Madison to run into my arms, clinging to me like a damn Koala bear, thankful I was alive and standing in front of her in one piece. I didn’t expect her just to tell me that she picked me up a coffee and ask if we should go with either blue or gray.

  “I figure dark stained floors and cream colored cabinets in the kitchen. Since we broke down the wall between the kitchen and dining room, how about we install an island with seating for kids to eat breakfast.” She taps her pen to her mouth, contemplating the idea.

  “Sounds good.”

  She glances to the side at me. “I was thinking soapstone for the countertops?”

  “Cool.” I sip my coffee not looking at the textiles laid in front of me.

  “Can you excuse us for a moment, Meadow?” Madison asks the young woman who’s been helping us and sneaking glances my way. She has long blonde hair that matches her long legs. She’s attractive and maybe before Madison, I would’ve liked the looks she’s been giving me. But there’s only one woman who’s been filling my mind this morning and that’s the one whose eyes are locked on me right now.

  “Certainly. Just holler when you’re ready.” Her heels click as she walks away.

  Madison places her pen down on her pad of paper next to her coffee.

  “You know I want your opinion, right? Don’t just go along with whatever I suggest. Feel free to challenge me.”

  Her voice and her eyes are soft and sincere. Just like they always are. Maybe that’s why the ache in my chest won’t disappear. After her text last night, I thought she’d be more enthusiastic about seeing me this morning and would lower the wall she’d put up between us. Obviously, I was wrong.

  “I know, but I’m not really good at this design stuff. Maybe I should go back to the house and get started on the drywall.”

  “No!” Her hand presses on my arm. “I want us to do this together.”

  “Okay.” I shrug and stuff my hands into the pockets of my jeans, not sure what advice I can really offer.

  “According to the budget you gave me, we have…”

  She rattles on about square feet and inches, but I really don’t care because my mind is still focused on why I give a shit if she cares.

  What the fuck am I doing? Sitting here in this textile place not worried about the house anymore but why Madison Kelly who I never knew existed until a month ago doesn’t seem to care that I could have lost my life last night. The flames were hot, the fire unpredictable. High-rise fires are always the riskiest when you go up through a stairway. Maybe it was the relief I felt when we were safe back at the station or the grateful look on my crews’ faces when the truck pulled into the station. Everyone found their phones to contact their loved ones.

  I knew I’d find a text from Ma, but Madison’s message surprised me. The elation inside me grew and that’s when the light bulb popped on, I want more than a kiss from this woman.

  Now to arrive this morning to an all business Madison wounded me when it shouldn’t. I told her not to see me as a hero and if she’d have jumped in my arms when I walked in the shop this morning, I’d know she hadn’t listened to me. Having her see me as a hero only raises the expectation level and sets us up for failure.

  “Honestly, I’m cool with whatever, Madison. I just want clean and streamlined and it seems like you have it handled here.”

  Meadow returns with more samples of stained wood, holding it up to the backsplash.

  “I don’t want the bathrooms to look the same as the kitchen, can we do a painted wood on the cabinetry with an epoxy that resembles marble?”

  Madison doesn’t bother acknowledging my comment, making me sit there through the entire ordeal, shooting me a pissed off look whenever I say cool or okay instead of giving an opinion.

  By the time we’re readying to leave Meadow slips me her number when Madison goes to the bathroom complaining about too much coffee. A sour feeling takes over my stomach over the fact that I accepted it. Not that I’m going to use it, but I never want to make anyone feel bad by refusing. Still, somehow the piece of paper in my pocket makes me feel dishonest.

  “Do you like Meadow?” Madison asks as we stop on the sidewalk next to our cars. “She worked with me on my last house and manages to get some really great deals. Plus, she really has an eye for modern, trendy and sleek.”

  “She’s okay.” I shrug.

  Madison rolls her eyes before her fist nails me in the shoulder.

  I wrap my hand around the area she hit. “Ooouucchh,” I deadpan, confusion laced in my tone.

  “What’s with you?” She juts her hip out, her papers high in her arms.

  “Nothing. Tired I guess.”

  I use my usual excuse of tiredness to cover up my emotions. The only woman to figure out my M.O. so far is my mom.

  “You seemed chipper when you came in.”

  “Chipper?”

  “Yes, like happy,” she says.

  My muscles tense in annoyance. “I know what chipper means,” I bite out.

  She throws her hand out. “Whatever. Why don’t you go sleep it off for the rest of the day. I’ll handle the house.” She heads to her car, opening up the passenger side door and tossing her papers in.

  “You’d like that, so you can say that I’m not carrying my weight.”

  I have no idea where this anger is coming from, but the words leave my lips anyway.

  She glances over her shoulder, her forehead scrunching up, not understanding. “No, I wouldn’t. I know how hard you work at the station. I’m sure last night shook you up a little.”

  So, she’s finally going to acknowledge last night.

  “I’m used to it. It’s my job.”

  “I know but still…”

  “Don’t baby me, Madison. We signed up for this together.”

  She stares at me, her eyes alit with questions. “I’m not. If you want to go to the house, then go to the damn house.” Her voice is raised, causing a man in a business suit to pause briefly behind us on the sidewalk.

  “Do you want me to go to the house?” I ask, stepping closer.

  She lightly shakes her head, her back falling to the passenger side of her car. “Truth?”

  “Always.”

  “Not if you’re going to be the jerk you’re being right now.” She crosses her arms and the button on her blouse slides, giving me a glimpse of her green lace bra. My mouth waters and my hands tighten into fists.

  “Fine.”

  “Fine? What the hell do you want from me?” she asks. Her voice is low and I can tell she doesn’t want to cause a scene by the way she’s glancing around us.

  What I want is my lips and my body pressed against hers.

  “Nothing.” I step back, closing my eyes to regain any amount of composure I can muster right now. “I’ll see you at the house.” I turn around to head to my truck.

  “Mauro?” she calls out.

  I circle back around, not stopping my feet, walking backward now. “I’m sorry, Madison. I think it’s just the stress getting to me.”

  That’s not even a lie. She’ll think it’s the job and the house, but in truth it’s her.

  Back in the serenity of my truck, I watch Madison slide into her car and sit for a moment.

  I’m such a fucking asshole. Why would I expect her to act like a girlfriend would after last night? She’s not my girlfriend and I need to keep reminding myself of that.

  There are two people I can call right now and only one will give me solid, serious advice, so I dial Cristian.

  “What’s up?” he answers.

  “You have a
minute?”

  “I just left the gym. You want to grab something to eat?” I hear him tell someone else it’s his brother and he’ll see them tomorrow.

  “No. I have to be at the house.”

  “I can pick up some food and head over there. I’m sure you and Maddie need to take a break.” My brother’s always thinking of others.

  I blow out a breath and run my hand through my hair. “Definitely can’t talk at the house.”

  Silence is the only response.

  “Cris?”

  “You didn’t?”

  “Didn’t what?”

  “Have sex with her. Please tell me you didn’t give in to the temptation and now you have a house half-finished and you guys can’t stand to be in the same room with each other.”

  Irritation raises its head again.

  “What are you, her keeper?”

  “You did. Jesus, Mauro, what are you thinking? She’s not like your usual girls.” His disappointment is clear from his tone.

  “I didn’t sleep with her,” I grind out.

  Silence.

  “But I want to.”

  “Do yourself a favor and go out tonight, find one of your other admirers and screw them. Leave Maddie alone.”

  My hands tighten on the steering wheel, wishing he was in front of me and that we were ten again when I could justify wrestling him to the ground and pounding my fist into his face.

  “I don’t want to screw anyone else. Hell, I just got a girl’s number five minutes ago.”

  An exasperated breath flows over the line. “Good to know.”

  “What am I missing here, Cris? Why are you so protective of her and why do you always think the worst of me with her? It’s not like you’re talking to fucking Luca.”

  He’s quiet for a long time, but I can hear the sounds of the city through the line—horns honking, bells ringing, and muffled conversations coming and going as he walks.