“He’s been doing overtime at the station. You know what it’s like this time of year with candles and…” He gives me a warm smile. “And pumpkins.” His gaze wanders over the padding bunched around my waist, my thick orange-clad thighs on full display. “I’ll sort it. Do you still have a ladder? I’ll do it now.”
“Don’t you have to get back for Sienna?”
“Nah, she’s staying at her grandparents tonight. You know May and Howard?”
“I know of them but don’t know them personally.”
“They’re the closest thing I have to family now. Apart from Phoenix. He’s like a brother to me. We grew up together back in England.”
Something about the way he talks about his family knocks me sideways. He’s not just smoke and swagger. He’s real. With a past as tragic as my own. More tragic even.
“You’re not what I expected,” I blurt.
“Oh?” He quirks a brow. “What’d you expect?”
“Someone cocky. Firefighter calendar type.”
His grin returns. “I can pose on a ladder if it’ll help.”
I roll my eyes, laughing despite myself. “You’re impossible.”
“And you,” he says softly, “are trouble. But the good kind.” He climbs out of the truck, then corners the vehicle to open my passenger door like a gentleman. “Let’s get your place secure. I can’t have any more mishaps on my watch, Miss Sparks.”
Chapter Nine
DRAKE
Her house smells like vanilla candles and cat food. Not unpleasant exactly, but homey, lived-in. A little chaotic, like her.
Fluffy tails brush up against my legs, a buzz of meows gathering in her kitchen.
“All right, I know it’s feeding time at the zoo.”
“Ladder’s in the shed out back,” she says, hobbling around the kitchen with her crutches. “But you’re not climbing up there in that getup, are you?” She points to the green paint still streaked across my cheek and the ridiculous dragon tail swishing behind me.
“Why not?” I grin, tugging at the tail. “Dragons are natural-born climbers. Wings and everything.”
Her laugh spills out, warming my chest after the swell of emotions from a moment ago when she asked about Elise, my wife.
I drift into the dining room, making my way out back. A bookshelf leans under the weight of paperbacks. Catspeer at me from framed photos on every surface, and in the centre, there’s a single wedding picture.
Ember’s parents, I recognise immediately as older versions of her and Flint. Her dad in full Class A dress uniform. Ember’s long red waves flow over a white wedding gown, her smile radiant. But the groom’s face is hidden under a glittery gold star sticker.
I step closer, frowning.
“You like my decorating?” Her voice comes from behind me. She leans on her crutches in the doorway, cheeks brighter than the paint still smudged on her skin.
“Thought maybe he was camera shy,” I mumble.
Her lips twitch, but her eyes give her away. “He’s not. Just… not worth looking at.”
I nod slowly. I don’t need the details to understand. Some wounds are better left covered.
“You’ve got the same smile as your mum,” I say instead, and the way her breath catches tells me I’ve hit something tender.
“Mum was always smiling. I guess being with my dad gave her a lot to smile about.” She clears her throat, swallowing down her emotions, and gestures vaguely towards the back door. “Ladder’s in the shed. Try not to break your neck. I don’t fancy explaining to Chief that I killed one of his men in this death trap.”
“Relax, pumpkin,” I tease, brushing past her towards the garden. “I’ve fought worse than fairy lights.” I tug the dragon tail for emphasis. “And I won.”
