Red Hot. Lisa Childs
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THE WOMAN HAD some ass, wriggling inside that snug skirt as she walked away. But Wyatt wasn’t the only one watching her leave. Braden actually craned his neck to stare as she turned outside the door and headed down the hall.
When she’d disappeared from sight entirely, the captain finally turned back to Wyatt and let out a low whistle. “I hate to admit it, but you might be right about me,” he said. “What bar are you meeting her at? The Filling Station?”
It was the only bar around the corner. But Wyatt wasn’t about to point that out to his boss. Feeling tense and edgy himself, he shook his head. “Not her.”
Braden whistled again. “It’s not like you to stake a claim. Thought you didn’t get attached...”
“I’m not,” he protested. “Not at all—especially not to Fiona.”
“Fiona...” Braden murmured wistfully. Or lustfully...
Hearing the lust, Wyatt smacked the other man’s shoulder. “Hey, she’s a friend’s sister, so she’s off-limits.” At least to him.
Braden snorted. “I’ve met the sister of every man on the team.”
Wyatt believed it. Braden was the kind of superintendent who made it a point to meet the families of all his team members...though for a couple of them the team was the only family they had. Wyatt’s parents had been killed when he was eleven. And another one of the guys—Cody Mallehan—had been an orphan, too.
Braden continued, “She is not related to any of them.”
“I have friends outside the team.” Because of the wives who had made them give up the jobs they had loved. But she wasn’t related to any of them, either. “She’s the sister of one of the kids I’ve been mentoring.”
Except that Matt wasn’t a kid anymore. So he should be able to make decisions without his sister’s interference. Even if those decisions were wrong, he needed to figure it out for himself—not have someone berate him for it. Matt had told Wyatt that Fiona was bossy and controlling, which was part of the reason why the half siblings weren’t close. The other part was that they hadn’t been raised together.
“Then she’s not off-limits to me,” Braden pointed out. “I think I will join you at the bar.”
Wyatt smacked him again—a little harder. “She’s off-limits to you, too.”
“I may have met most of the kids you mentor...”
Because Wyatt had brought them around the firehouse. He hoped he hadn’t inadvertently influenced Matt’s decision to try to join the Forest Service Fire Department.
“But I’m not friends with any of them,” Braden continued.
“That’s not why she’s off-limits to you,” Wyatt said. “She’s off-limits because she’s the type of woman you need to avoid.”
“What type is that?” Braden asked. “Sexy as sin?”
“The type that wants you to make a commitment and then gives you ultimatums or walks away,” Wyatt warned him. “And you’ve already had one of those.”
Braden sighed. “It’s not always the wife who gives the ultimatums, you know.”
Wyatt narrowed his eyes and studied his friend. “Do you want to talk?” he asked. “I can cancel with Fiona...” But his stomach muscles tightened, his gut clenching in protest.
Why? She was probably just going to yell at him. She had been pissed even before he’d made his inappropriate comments to her.
“Maybe you should,” Braden said.
So his friend was finally ready to talk—to really talk. He’d said some things before, when he and his wife had hit their rough patch. But he hadn’t explained the situation and how it had led to a divorce so quickly.
“I will if you want me to,” he offered. Selfishly he hoped that Braden didn’t want him to. “I’ll have to run over to the bar and let her know, though.” Since he didn’t have her number...
He’d known Matt for six years, but he’d barely ever seen or talked to the guy’s sister. As Matt had said, they weren’t close. So why was she so upset over his career aspirations?
“But then we can talk,” Wyatt said. “As long as you want...”
Braden laughed. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Well, I was just kidding about the sex earlier,” Wyatt joked. “You’re not my type.”
Braden smacked his shoulder now. “I’m just saying that maybe you need to take your own advice.”
He was a little sexually frustrated himself—more so since Fiona O’Brien had walked into the weight room and slapped him. And he’d touched her...
He might have kissed her if she hadn’t tried to hit him again. That had brought him to his senses. He had no business kissing a woman like Fiona, let alone having sex with her.
He shook his head. “No...”
“You’re warning me to steer clear of women like her,” Braden reminded him. “Maybe you should, too.”
Wyatt laughed. “But I’m in no danger of falling for her.” For any other woman, either, but most especially not a woman like Fiona. He wanted nothing to do with bossy and controlling.
“She’s beautiful and sexy,” Braden said. “Yeah, no danger at all...”
“No,” Wyatt said again.
But moments later he turned the water cold as he stepped into the shower. After that passionate encounter with her, after nearly giving in to the temptation to kiss her, he needed to cool off. But no matter how cold the water was, his skin was still hot. His blood still pumping fast and hard through his veins.
She was beautiful and sexy. But he had known plenty of women just as hot. And he hadn’t fallen for any of them.
He was not going to fall for Fiona O’Brien.
“WHERE ARE YOU?” Howard asked, his voice squeaking in her ear. Not that he had a squeaky voice. It must have been the bad cell reception and the noise in the bar that made his voice sound so whiny and petulant.
Fiona considered walking out to finish the call on the street. But then she would lose the booth she’d found in the back of the crowded bar. And she would have to walk past all those guys who’d whistled at her when she’d walked in. Since she was one of the only women in the place, she hadn’t been particularly flattered. The other woman was heavily muscled and tattooed and had also whistled at her.
She pressed her mouth against the phone and said, “I had to take a meeting.”
“In a bar?” he asked. And there was definitely petulance in his tone.
She couldn’t blame the cell reception. And she couldn’t blame him for being upset that she had canceled. She should have been flattered that he was so disappointed. But was he disappointed or merely irritated?
Of course, she hadn’t canceled until he was already on his way to the restaurant where they met every Friday night. A nice restaurant—not a place like this with a loud jukebox, louder patrons and peanuts crushed against the scarred wide-planked wooden floor.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “But something’s come up with Matthew—”
“Your brother.” Now a sigh, one that sounded long-suffering, rattled the phone.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. Did she talk that much about Matthew?
Sure, she was worried