Fireman Daddy - Taryn Quinn Page 0,2

She sighed at my look. “Right.” She twisted a small bag forward. The slim strap cut between her breasts and pulled her suit lapels open again. That red lacy thing she was wearing was going to kill me.

She held up a key fob. “Trunk.”

“And what would her majesty like for me to bring back to her?”

She narrowed her gaze. “You used to be less sarcastic.”

“I used to be a nice guy.” Until life had taught me that being too accommodating never worked out.

“I have a pair of black flats in a side pocket of the trunk.”

“Got it.” Before I said something even more stupid, I turned on my heel and escaped. The brisk spring air helped to clear my head. It was better than her spicy floral scent making me want things I shouldn’t.

I crossed the disaster zone of a parking lot and popped her trunk to find a very orderly set-up. An emergency roadside kit, a compact black suitcase with a red stripe around the zipper, and sure enough, there was a small fabric bag tucked along the side.

Bingo. I shoved the little bag into my jacket pocket, then closed the trunk and pressed my palms against the car’s steel frame.

Fuck, I’d missed her. All it took was ten minutes in her space to bring it all back.

Oh, I’d had moments over the years. When the moon was high over the lake and I took my bike out for a long night drive, I thought about her sometimes. The stolen moments when she fought with Danny and sent out a text SOS to pick her up.

Mostly because she was insane. She would jump out of his car at a stoplight or stop sign when they were mid-fight and stomp off. And Danny was always dickish enough to leave her.

Idiot.

And I’d ride in like the white knight I wished I could be for her. Having her wrap her curvy little self around me had been a special kind of torture. But I’d lived for those rides. I’d hoped she would see how wrong Danny was for her. Even if she never saw me as any more than the sweet guy she could lean on when she was in trouble.

That boy was long gone, and I’d sure as shit never had sweet thoughts about her. No, they were decidedly X-rated. No matter whom I’d dated in high school, they were a poor substitute for Freckles. Not that she ever knew that. Because best friends never poached, and I’d been Danny Hughes’ best friend since kindergarten.

He was still an idiot.

And I was still in love with Erica.

“Son of a bitch.”

Three

I flipped off my other shoe. The floor was a little dusty, but surprisingly clean overall. I’d figured the inside would match the outside. The tables and chairs were worn, but still serviceable with a bit of elbow grease and maybe some polish. An ancient tarp covered the taps, secured by bungee cord. The bar itself was shrouded in a large piece of paint-stained canvas.

I frowned at the thick gray smoke coming from the kitchen. What the hell? I rushed around the bar and through the swinging door. The heavy scent of cigarette smoke slammed into deja vu.

“Rita!”

The crabby waitress with the improbable crayon-red hair who had been attached to this place since before I was born was sitting next to the back door cracked open to let in air. Of course it never helped, but Rita did what she wanted.

Why Sharkey put up with her, I never knew.

But her ass had been Velcroed to that chair every day I’d worked there. I guess it didn’t much matter if the bar was closed or not.

She took a long drag and blew a stream of smoke at me. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

Still sweet as ever too.

I snatched the cigarette out of her hand and stubbed it out into the pail of sand she used to prop open the door. “You can’t smoke in here.”

She calmly took out her leather cigarette pack holder. The leather was cracked and held together by safety pins. I was pretty sure it was older than my mother. She plucked another one from the Newport 100s pack with the tips of her long red nails. “What are you doing back here, kid?”

I grabbed her lighter. “We are in the middle of getting reviewed by the fire code chief,” I whispered furiously. “You cannot smoke in here. What are you doing here?”

She shrugged. “Working.” She pulled a pack of