Charming the Firefighter. Beth Andrews
you and your intelligence. You’re one of the brightest people I know.”
All true. But her taste in men sucked.
This time she ducked out from under his arm and stepped back. “Save it. I’m not one of your brainless bimbos—”
“Bimbos?” He laughed, hoping it didn’t sound as forced as it felt. “Did we time-travel back to 1952?”
“Yes, bimbos. Who hang on every word you say, simpering and sighing and batting their lashes.”
“I got it!” Max called, his round face red, his breathing heavy as he ran to the edge of the driveway, the ball clutched to his chest. “I got it, Uncle Leo!”
Leo held his hands out and neatly caught Max’s wobbly pass. “Thanks, bud.” He spun the ball on the tip of his forefinger. Winked at Maddie. “Can I help it if women think I’m amazingly witty and incredibly charming?”
“That’s only because they don’t know you,” she grumbled before walking to Neil and accepting the bottle of water he held out to her.
Leo let his smile slip. He bounced the ball twice—hard—then forced himself to tuck it against his side instead of winging it through the air again. Made sure his movements were easy and casual as he grabbed his own water and drank deeply.
He wished it were a beer. Or better yet, the slow, smooth burn of a Jameson. After the night he’d had, he could use a drink. But he had to report to work in a few hours.
And he was afraid once he started drinking, he might not stop. At least not until he had a decent buzz, one that blurred his thoughts and dimmed his memory. Until he could no longer remember the pain in Samantha Coles’s eyes. Could no longer hear her voice pleading for him to help her.
His fingers tightened on the bottle, the sound of crushing plastic loud to his ears. He finished the water and tossed it aside. Pushed all thoughts of last night from his head.
A drop of sweat slid from his hairline and down his temple before disappearing behind his ear. He wiped his forearm across his brow. The bright, late-afternoon sun burned the tip of his nose. It was hotter than usual for Labor Day in southwestern Pennsylvania, and his parents’ picnic was in full swing.
Family, friends, neighbors, coworkers and even a few college coeds—his mother’s classmates in her pursuit of finishing her degree—littered the wide, open yard, and spilled out of the two-story house and onto the large deck. The air smelled of grilled steaks and burgers. The muted sounds of Foreigner’s “Head Games” could be heard under all the conversation. The occasional good-natured cheer and burst of laughter rose from the group playing volleyball in the side yard.
Another successful party. Even though she was now a full-time student, having enrolled in Seton Hill University in Pittsburgh last year, Rose Montesano still found the time to entertain the masses.
Which was why Leo went to more than his fair share of gatherings, picnics and mandatory Sunday dinners. Having a large family who all lived in the same town had its share of perks—free meals being at the top of that list.
Across the driveway, Maddie and Neil stood so close together, you couldn’t get a breath between them. She rose onto her toes and said something in Neil’s ear. He grinned at her, then slid his hand to settle on her ass.
Leo’s right eye twitched. Having family close by also had more than a few drawbacks.
Such as watching your baby sister get back together with the loser who had broken her heart.
“Are we playing ball or what?” he called.
Facing him, Maddie readjusted her ponytail. “Just waiting on you, Princess.”
They resumed play, Maddie, Neil and Eddie against Leo, James and Ryan Pyatt, one of Montesano Construction’s employees. After fifteen minutes of hard play, the score was tied, twenty all. Whoever made the next basket would win the game. Maddie dribbled, looking for an open player while James guarded her.
“Switch, switch,” Leo told Ryan when Neil set a screen on the kid.
Ryan veered left and blocked Eddie while Leo spun right to guard Neil. They fought for position under the basket, pushing, shoving and bumping.
Maddie passed the ball to Eddie, who shot. It bounced off the rim. Leo went up for the rebound, shoulder to shoulder with Neil. He had a few inches more in height, but Neil had the advantage of being a professional athlete. He came down with the ball and pivoted and Leo knew he was going up for the shot.
The restlessness, the edge of frustration and anger Leo had tried to keep contained since last night built, bigger and bigger, until he was afraid he was going to explode with it. His muscles tensed, his body shook. He wasn’t going to lose. Not today.
Not to Neil.
Leo leaped up and with a low growl, spiked the ball out of Neil’s hands.
That he almost took Neil’s head off in the process was, to Leo’s mind, merely a bonus.
Breathing hard, Leo sent the son of a bitch a cocky grin. “You should stick to hockey.”
As he walked past him, he bumped into Neil’s shoulder with enough force to knock him back a step.
Leo grabbed the ball, then jogged over to the edge of the driveway. He bounced the ball at Maddie. “Check.”
“What the hell is your problem?” she asked, which was a neat trick seeing as how her lips barely moved.
“No problem. Just playing the game.”
“That how you want it to be?” She gave a sharp nod, then got into a crouch, her mouth set. “Fine. Don’t say you didn’t ask for it.”
And she shoved the ball into his stomach.
She’d always had a mean streak.
Eyes on her—because despite popular opinion, he wasn’t a complete idiot—he dribbled, keeping the ball low to the ground, his knees bent. James and Ryan worked to get open, James lifting his hand.
Maddie swiped at the ball, but Leo sidestepped. She was fast, he’d give her that. What she lacked in finesse and actual talent, she more than made up for in grit, determination and aggression.
They’d taught her well.
He faked left, then went right. Maddie stuck to him like a second skin, bumping and shoving as he made his way to the basket. He went in for the layup. Maddie jumped to block him.
And punched him in the jaw.
His head jerked back. His teeth snapped together and he landed awkwardly on the side of his foot. He stumbled, then caught his balance, juggled the ball, but it was too late. Maddie snatched it and sent Neil a beautiful bounce pass as he ran to the basket.
The show-off dunked it.
Bastard.
“Foul!” Leo waved his arms as if to erase the point from the imaginary scoreboard. “No basket. That was a foul.”
Maddie blinked at him innocently, which he didn’t buy for a minute. “Was it?” She made a show of looking around the driveway. “Funny, but I don’t see a ref here. And I certainly didn’t hear any whistle so I guess you’re wrong—which, as you know, is one of my very favorite things to say to any of my brothers, but right now I’m taking extreme pleasure in saying it to you in particular.” She patted his cheek. “You lost. Deal with it.”
He edged closer. She, of course, wasn’t the least bit intimidated. “You punched me.”
“I wouldn’t call that a punch,” James said as if he had the right to stick his fat nose into their conversation. He turned to Maddie. “If you’re going to jab, keep your elbow in. And don’t tuck your thumb under your fingers or you’ll break it.”
Something they’d told her at least a hundred times.
She