For the Love of a Fireman. Vonnie Davis
too preoccupied with work to take care of it. Ain’t nothing but an infected splinter. Can’t seem to dig deep enough to get to it.”
Oh, just give me a machete. I’ll show you how deep a good woman can cut.
He slid his fingertips into the front pocket of his jeans, pulling them a little lower on his hips, until he finally tugged out folded bills secured with a silver fire truck money clip. “What’s the damage?”
To your wallet or the self-esteem of those poor women?
After totaling his purchases, Molly handed him his change and six plastic bags. “Hope you get them cleaned up.”
He grunted again. “Sure as hell hope so. Don’t know if I can sleep without the girls laying all over me.”
Oh, puh-lease.
He headed for the exit, high-top sneakers clunking the tile floor.
Molly glared at his retreating form. What a piece of macho jerk.
He snapped his fingers and returned. “Where’s the dog toys? They’ll be expecting a treat after I scrub the skunk smell off.”
“Dogs? Dogs!” Had he been talking about dogs all this time?
Douche-man nodded, his blond five o’clock shadow more an eight o’clock sexy scruff. “Yeah. An overweight Black Lab, a beady-eyed Chihuahua and a Collie mix. I’m kinda partial to my girls, but not when they chase skunks and get a good spraying.”
“Skunks? Spraying?” God, I sound like an echo.
“Used to wash them down with tomato juice after being sprayed, but Caroline would lap at the juice and get terrible gas.” He shook his head once. “Couldn’t stand to be around her for days.” He grinned and dimples slashed his cheeks. “So, I researched online and found out about bathing animals in Massengill after encounters with skunks.”
Boy, talk about a miscommunication.
He studied the bags in his hands for a beat and then raised his gaze. “I’m sorry for storming in here earlier and ranting about my dogs, calling them bitches, but they had me so damn mad.” He winced. “Sorry. After a long day of tearing out decrepit kitchen cabinets and replacing them with new ones, moving walls and installing appliances, the last thing I want to do tonight is to scrub down three dogs.”
His gaze flicked over her hand before his green-eyed perusal once more settled on her face. Had he just checked for a ring? “Could I interest you in a cup of coffee after work?” He peeked at his watch. “Store closes in fifteen minutes.”
Not expecting his boldness, she stepped back. “Sorry, I don’t meet strange men for coffee.”
A wide smile spread, exposing straight white teeth with a chip broken off the corner of his left front one. Those deep dimples and chipped tooth added a boyish charm to his male persona, a charismatic contrast to the arrogant sternness he’d exhibited earlier. He set his bags in front of her on the checkout counter before tilting a hip against it and crossing his arms, obviously settling in for a chat neither she nor her boss wanted. She was on the clock, after all.
The door swished open and she jumped. God, she had to get beyond thinking she’d seen Wade’s vehicle twice. Sure, he’d been royally pissed when she threw the engagement ring in his face, but no woman wanted to marry a man who cheated on her…and then became violent when she called him on it. But he wouldn’t come all this way to find her. Would he?
The strange man’s eyebrows were furrowed as if he’d been studying her and he cleared his throat. “You know, I really do owe you an apology for my ranting when I came in the store.” He managed to make his grin almost unsure, as if he’d suddenly lost his confidence. How many times had he practiced this technique—and how often had a woman fallen for it? “A coffee and a piece of pie couldn’t hurt, could it?”
“I repeat, I don’t know you.” She motioned him aside so she could ring-up another customer’s purchases.
She hoped Douche-man would take the hint but, no, he patiently hovered nearby while she waited on two customers, his male aura slowly swirling around her like a testosterone fog. Turning to him, she scowled. “What part of I don’t spend time with strange men don’t you get?”
He extended his hand, his charming smile increased another dangerous notch. “Barclay Gray. Fireman, marine rescue diver, dog lover and pie connoisseur.”
The man certainly knew how to pour on the charm, she’d give him that. But she couldn’t forget that men had a potential for violence she’d never known before…
Molly shook Barclay’s hand. The warmth from his callouses sending shocks of awareness through her system. When she tried pulling back, his hold tightened and a jolt of panic twisted her stomach.
As if he could read her mood, his shifted to one of reassurance. “Calm down, Molly. I don’t intend to hurt you in any way. White Sands Diner is three blocks up the street and usually has good pies.” His thumb slowly rubbed her knuckles and she jerked her hand away.
His gaze narrowed on her as if he were some kind of therapist, evaluating her every move. Gone, too, was his cocky smile. “What have I done to frighten you?”
“Tell me, do all the women fall for this macho lure you’ve got goin’ on?”
One shoulder lifted in an arrogant shrug. “Yeah. Usually. Sometimes.” His sea green gaze quickly swept over her face. “It’s not working with you, though, is it?”
She folded her arms. “Hell, no.”
He smiled again; this time as if to soothe her. “You’re a cold-hearted woman, Molly. How will you sleep tonight, knowing I’m having pie and coffee all by my lonesome?”
Molly glanced at her fingernails. “I’m sure I won’t give it a second thought.” Oh, but she would. Who could forget his animated eyes or those cute dimples when he smiled? Or the way his deep voice triggered a need she’d be better off denying.
“Tell you what, I’ll order two cups of coffee and two slices of pie. If you don’t join me, it’ll be your fault I’ll be up all night with a sugar-induced, caffeine high.” His deep voice poured over her like honey on biscuits.
“Right. You don’t even know if there are any pies left at this time of night.”
Barclay whipped out his cell and thumbed a number. “Sarah, is that you? This is Barclay. Hey, you got any pie left?” His gaze locked on Molly’s and the corners of his mouth twitched in a damnable overconfident way. “What kind?” He nodded, no doubt listening to Sarah rattle off flavors. “Hold on.” He pressed the cell to his worn t-shirt. “They’ve got cherry, lemon meringue and double chocolate sin.”
Was he daft? She fisted a hand at her waist. “I told you I’m not meeting you for pie. I don’t care what damned flavor it is.” The last thing she needed was to get involved with another guy, even if she and her dad would only be in Florida for a few more weeks.
The man had the audacity to wink at her and then lifted his cell. “Save me a slice of each. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Put on a fresh pot of coffee too.” He slipped the cell back into the front pocket of his jeans.
“How are you going to keep that washboard stomach, eating three pieces of pie by yourself?” She was not joining him.
Humor twinkled in Barclay’s eyes, setting her system all wonky again. “You been looking at my abs, Sugar? Won’t you give a poor guy fifteen minutes to apologize for his moodiness?” He splayed a wide hand over his heart as if he were making a grand plea.
“Why don’t you do like every other man. Mumble ‘sorry’ and then slither away?”
A flicker of something passed over his face, erasing his jovial demeanor. “Is that how you’ve been treated? As if you don’t matter? Or