Hard to Resist - By Kara Lennox Page 0,59
they headed back out into the heat, leaving the cool shelter of the convenience store behind, “the last time we went to the fire station, you were scared to death. You wouldn’t talk to any of the firefighters. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Was I really?” Samantha asked. “I don’t remember.”
“Right after the fire. Remember how Ethan took you out back to show you Daisy’s puppies?”
Samantha thought about it. “Oh, yeah. The puppies were a lot smaller.” And that was all she had to say about it. As they arrived at the door and a smiling man in a Dallas Fire and Rescue T-shirt welcomed them, Samantha showed not the slightest signs of insecurity.
“Well, look who’s here,” said Captain Campeon, who was officially greeting everyone as they came in. He seemed not one bit more relaxed than he had the first time Kat had seen him, his smile worn uncomfortably, as if he had to force himself to pretend to like having all these strangers wandering the fire station. He directed them through the station to the back door, where both Priscilla and Tony greeted them.
“Kat,” Tony said, “we didn’t think you were coming.”
“Samantha twisted my arm. It’s okay, isn’t it?” she asked uncertainly. Maybe she wasn’t welcome, after all. Maybe the invitation had been only a token one.
“Of course, you’re welcome!” Tony said, showing a bit too much enthusiasm. Priscilla escorted Samantha outside to where someone was making balloon animals, but Tony all but blocked Kat’s way. “Are those your brownies?”
“Yup. Still warm from the oven.”
“Let’s take them back to the kitchen and slice them,” he said, taking her by the elbow and physically turning her around. “I don’t think we have a knife outside.”
Tony spent a ridiculous amount of time cutting up the brownies, claiming he wanted to get each square the same size so no one would feel slighted.
“Tony, I never noticed this perfectionist streak in you before.”
“There. Done.”
“Finally. Knowing you guys, if I don’t get out back soon, all the barbecue will be gone.”
“Not much chance of that. Jerry’s parents own Wilson Meats, and they donated, like, fifty pounds of brats and chicken and ribs.”
As they left the kitchen, Priscilla appeared again. She shrugged at Tony, who rolled his eyes.
What was going on with those two? Was it possible… Could they be…? Nah. If any chemistry existed between Priscilla and Tony, they’d kept it well hidden.
The fenced yard behind the fire station was seething with activity. There was a moonwalk for the kids. Daisy and her two remaining puppies were darting among the guests, a line of children chasing them. Several picnic tables had been added to the original one and covered with a red-checked oilcloth, and it was topped with enough food to feed the Dallas Cowboys for a week.
There was, indeed, a man making balloon animals. Kat recognized him as one of the firefighters she’d seen when she brought her first batch of brownies to the station.
Two teenage girls were off in a corner of the yard, hunkered down and exchanging confidences. They’d probably been dragged here against their will and thought the whole thing supremely uncool.
Kat was automatically drawn to them. In every teenage girl she saw a bit of herself—wanting to be grown-up, scared of adulthood, stretching for freedom, then shrinking back, longing for security that didn’t exist in her home. She wanted to grab every teenage girl she saw and enroll her in StrongGirls. If someone had taken her in hand when she was fourteen or fifteen and given her some advice, her life would have been a lot different.
She started to drift toward the girls, but a hand on her arm stopped her.
Ethan.
“Hey, no work today. This is a holiday.”
Oh, he looked good. His face was tanned from all the yardwork he’d been doing, his hair bleached out by the sun.
She wished he wouldn’t touch her. The feel of his hand, even during an innocent moment like this, made her blood sizzle.
“I can’t help it,” she said. “Look at those girls. They’re miserable, all alienated and angry. They need me.”
“Aren’t all teenage girls like that?”
“Not my StrongGirls. Maybe those girls need a job to do. Could we get them to organize some games for the younger kids?”
“Your funeral, if you want to ask them. Me, all that hormonal angst scares me to death.”
“Let’s just see what I can do.” And she marched over to the girls, who eyed her with overt suspicion.
She plopped down on the grass next to them. “Hi,