Breaking Protocol (Firehouse Fourteen Book 3) (14 page)

The waves had gentled even more, creating a soothing rocking beneath the hull of the boat, a comforting sensation that tried to lull CC into sleep. Actually, she was pretty sure she
had
drifted off, if only for a few minutes.

She opened her eyes, squinting into the sun, then rolled onto her stomach and grabbed the novel she had been reading. The sun was warm and prickly against her skin, long since dried from her impromptu swim a few hours ago.

Dave was mad at her. In fact, every infuriating, testosterone-poisoned male of the species on this boat was mad at her. Except for maybe the fish they had been catching. No, the scaly creatures were probably mad at her, too.

And the anger was misplaced. Granted, it was probably more irritation than anger on the part of her dad and her brothers. But not Dave. And she didn't understand why.

They had all overreacted. Dave by jumping in after her, everyone else by getting mad because she had needed help. At least, that's what they thought.

But she hadn't needed help. She would have been fine. Yes, she got a leg cramp. So what. She hadn't panicked, was taking her time rubbing it, smoothing it out with her hands. Yeah, she had drifted a little further away from the boat. It wasn't a big deal, she would have made the swim back with no problem once she dealt with the cramp.

But Dave had decided to jump in after her, which made everyone else stop what they were doing to come watch.

To come help.

And she hadn't needed the help, but she couldn't convince any of them of that.

Testosterone poisoning. Plain and simple.

She peered over the top of the book and looked toward the rear of the boat. All four of them were lounging around, drinks in hand as their rods sat unwatched in the holders, lines lax as they bobbed somewhere in the depths below them. Conversation and laughter drifted toward her and she ground her teeth in irritation. Just like her mom had hoped, they were all bonding, joking around and having a good old time.

And apparently talking about her, because she could catch her name every once in a while.

They were frustrating. All four of them. And to think she had come on this trip so Dave wouldn't feel threatened or outnumbered. So he wouldn't worry about her brothers trying to throw him overboard in the middle of the ocean.

He'd be lucky if
she
didn't throw him overboard. The traitor.

"Carolann, are you going to stay up there and pout all day, or are you going to come down here and have lunch?" Her dad's booming voice floated back to her and she narrowed her eyes, just because.

"I'm not pouting."

"Let her go hungry, Dad. More for us."

"Yeah, let her stay up there and get fried, that'll teach her."

"I'm not getting fried. I have sunscreen on."

Male laughter filled the air and she gritted her teeth again. Maybe she could throw all four of them overboard and be done with it. Except her mom would probably get upset with her if she did that.

Then again, maybe not. Surely her mom, of all people, would understand.

She ignored the laughter and conversation and turned her attention back to the book, trying to lose herself in the words on the page. A shadow fell across her, pulling her attention from the dashing pirate hero, and she looked up in irritation, pushing her sunglasses on top of her head.

And realized that Dave looked exactly as she had pictured the pirate hero to look. Tall, broad, dark hair and piercing eyes. The dark shadow of a two-day beard covered his square jaw, making him look wild and untamed. Much like the pirate in the book.

But instead of wearing an open, billowing linen shirt, her pirate had on an unbuttoned fishing shirt and bathing trunks that hung low on his trim hips. Instead of tall black boots, her pirate was barefooted. And instead of wielding a wicked cutlass, her pirate was carrying a plate of food and two bottles of beer.

She liked her pirate better, even if he was wearing the same dangerous, brooding expression as the book pirate.

She lowered her sunglasses then turned back to the book. "You are blocking my sun."

Dave ignored her and lowered himself to the deck beside her, without dropping anything, which impressed her. But she didn't say anything and pretended to keep reading. "I brought you lunch."

He put the plate between them then held out one of the beers, pushing it close enough to her face that she could feel the coolness of the bottle through the air. She took a deep breath and let it out in a heavy sigh meant to tell him she wasn't impressed with the peace offering. But she reached out and took the bottle anyway, turning on her side so she could take a sip.

She couldn't see Dave's eyes through the dark lenses of his glasses, but knew his gaze dropped to her chest. She could feel the heat of his eyes against her skin, just the look enough to pucker her nipples. He swallowed and looked away, shifting against the hard fiberglass deck.

"Why are you pouting?"

"I am not pouting. I am a grown woman. Grown women do not pout." The corner of his mouth turned up in a small grin then disappeared. At least he was smart enough not to respond, which made her smile.

"Then why are you up here by yourself?"

"Why are you mad at me?"

"I never said I was mad at you."

She raised one eyebrow in disbelief and reached for some of the chips on the plate. "Really? Is that why you've been glaring at me for the last few hours?"

"I have not been glaring."

"Okay, glowering then."

"I haven't been glowering." He lowered his glasses and narrowed his eyes at her, making her laugh.

"Then what do you call that?"

"Staring at you. In confusion."

She threw a chip at him then took a sip of beer, done with the banter for now. "Why did you jump in after me?"

"Because I thought you needed help."

"I didn't. I would have been fine."

"I didn't know that, did I? What the hell did you want me to do? Wait until you were actually drowning? What the hell, CC." He pushed his sunglasses back up his face then ran a hand through his hair. Frustration poured from him in waves, thick in the air around them. A muscle jumped in his clenched jaw as he turned and looked out over the water, his chest rising and falling with deep measured breaths.

CC sighed and looked down at the bottle in her hand. "I really was fine, you know."

"Fine. You were fine. Excuse me for thinking you needed help. Excuse me for having the living fuck scared out of me." He hissed the words through clenched teeth and CC knew, without a doubt, that he wanted to shout them instead. Then the meaning of the words finally sunk in and she felt a second's surprise when she realized he really had been worried. Not just concerned, but actually worried. How'd he put it? He had the living fuck scared out of him.

She tried not to smile, knew it was a completely irrational reaction and that it would probably only upset him more if he saw it. So she hid the smile by taking another swallow of beer, then reached out and closed her hand around his thigh. "Thank you. For being worried."

"Don't thank me. Next time I'll just let your ass drown."

CC bit the inside of her cheek, wanting to ask him who was pouting now but thinking better of it. She slid her hand a little higher on his thigh, her fingers tracing lazy circles against his skin. He stiffened under her touch, his hand closing around her wrist.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing." She wiggled her fingers and he loosened his grip on her wrist. She slid her hand up further, inside the leg of his swimming trunks, teasing the sensitive skin high on the inside of his thigh.

He inhaled quickly and grabbed her hand, moving it so her palm was flat against the deck. Then he leaned on it so she couldn't move it. "Are you trying to get me thrown overboard?"

"No."

"Then stop."

She tried moving her hand but Dave wouldn't budge. "I can't eat with you leaning on my hand."

"I thought you said you weren't hungry."

"I am now." She tried pulling her hand free, then sighed in mock surrender. "I'll behave. Honest."

Dave watched her, disbelief clear on his face, then muttered something under his breath before releasing her hand. She grinned then sat up, her smile teasing as she reached for the plate.

"We could stage a mutiny, you know."

"A mutiny?"

"Yeah. We could throw all three of them overboard, then you could ravage me belowdecks."

"Ravage you?"

"Yeah. You know, tie me up, have your way with me."

Dave groaned, an almost breathless sound of frustration as he glanced over his shoulder, making sure nobody else was listening. He shifted then looked down at her, his expression unreadable. "You said you'd behave."

"I am behaving! See, I'm keeping my hands to myself!" She held up both hands as proof.

"That's not behaving."

"Hmm. Maybe you need to punish me."

Dave ran one hand down his face and shifted again, saying something that sounded suspiciously like swearing. CC laughed and sipped her beer, letting her gaze wander along his body.

"Or I could ravage you. Tie you down spread eagle, kiss every inch of your body, straddle your big—"

"Okay, I'm done. No more." He jumped to his feet and adjusted himself with a frown, then looked down at her. "Just remember, payback. When you least expect it, I will get you back."

"Is that a promise, Big Guy?"

He groaned again and walked away, leaving her alone with her lunch and laughter. She had never teased anyone that way before and enjoyed it more than she should have.

Even if it did leave her just as frustrated as it left him.

Flames burned low in the stone fire pit, tossing a ring of amber light and flickering shadows around the circle. Conversation ran in bits and spurts, quiet and relaxed, the breaks in-between filled with the sounds of night.

Dave puffed on the cigar and followed it with a sip of bourbon, thinking he could get used to this nightly routine. The only thing that would make it better was having CC in his bed at the end of it.

His body tightened at the mere thought of it and he realized, not for the first time, that the past three days had been the most sexually frustrated he had been in a long time. Three days. It shouldn't have been a problem at all, not considering he had gone longer—much longer—in the past. But she was always there, smiling at him, teasing him, with a word or a glance or a gesture. Like yesterday afternoon on the boat, when he had been tempted to dive into the chilly waves to control his reaction.

She was driving him crazy, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Not while they were staying at her parents' house. Not with her brothers here.

He didn't think they were actually watching his every move, but he knew all too well how protective brothers could be. Guilt surged through him each time he thought of what he wanted to do CC, and he caught himself more than once looking over his shoulder, wondering if his thoughts showed on his face. Then waiting to see if either of her brothers noticed, wondering if he was about to make facial contact with four fists.

He looked over at the brothers now, both of them sprawled in the camp chairs, their poses eerily similar to his. One dark, one light, their individual coloring coming from each parent. But both of them had their father's build: tall, strong, sturdy. Dave was good at reading people and knew without a doubt that neither of them would hesitate to get physical in defense of their sister—or anything else, if it came right down to it. It was both comforting and disconcerting knowing that he had so much in common with them.

"When you guys heading back?"

"Friday morning, from what CC tells me."

Rob shared a knowing look with his brother, then both men chuckled. Dave frowned, looking from one to the other, not understanding the joke. Tim raised his glass toward Dave, a grin on his face.

"She's got you all tied up in knots, doesn't she?"

"Who? CC? No, why?"

"'From what CC tells me'?" Tim threw his words back at him, the grin still in place. "Sounds like she's calling the shots."

Dave shifted in the chair, feeling defensive, like he had to explain things for some reason. "No, she's not calling the shots. This is her trip, I'm just along for the ride. As long as I'm back at work on Sunday morning, I don't care what we do."

Rob shook his head, his dark eyes sparkling with laughter. "Don't deny it, man. Baby sister has you spinning in all sorts of directions."

Dave opened his mouth to deny it, then figured it was safer not to say anything so he just took another draw on the cigar. Yes, she did have him spinning. Just look at how frustrated she had gotten him over the last three days. He had never met anyone else who could do that to him and he wasn't sure what to make of it.

"We're not teasing you. Much. It's just nice to realize her influence reaches past family. She's had us wrapped around her finger ever since she was born."

"Speak for yourself, big brother. I was the one she tormented growing up. That girl was a pain in my ass. Still is."

"You're just mad that she used to beat the living crap out of you."

Dave laughed and looked over at Tim, surprised to see the big man squirming in his chair. Was his face red from embarrassment, or was it just a reflection of the fire? He couldn't tell, thought maybe it was a bit of both. Tim ran his hand through his hair, causing the blonde strands to stick up in various directions and giving him a disheveled appearance. An image of a shorter, petite CC jumping on a younger Tim and tormenting him formed in his mind, as clear as if he was seeing it unfold in front of him. He laughed again and raised his glass toward the big man.

"Poor Tippy. I can imagine it must have been mortifying."

Tim's mouth dropped open as Rob's bark of laughter echoed around them, startling whatever wildlife was nearby into silence.

"I'm going to kill her!"

"Sounds like your secret is out now. Tippy." Rob laughed again, and Dave turned to him, a smile on his face.

"Yeah, it is. Bubby."

Their reactions instantly switched, with Tim now laughing and surprised irritation clear on Rob's face. He swallowed a healthy slug of bourbon then shook his head. "Damn her. I didn't think she'd actually tell anyone about those stupid names. When the hell did she tell you that?"

"On the way down here. She told me that you both would probably sniff me over, but that you were harmless and I shouldn't worry about it." Dave looked at each man then grinned. "I thought she was talking about the dogs."

"Dogs. Great."

"I think we're going to have a little chat with Miss Carolann later tonight."

The three men looked each other then laughed, some silent admission passing around them that CC had somehow gotten the better of all three of them. Rob leaned back in the chair and stretched his legs in front of him, staring into the fire for a few minutes. He took several puffs on the cigar, then looked over at Dave, his gaze speculative, searching.

"So what else has CC told you?"

Dave heard what lay underneath the question and felt a second's discomfort. He met the man's gaze straight on. "About?"

"You've obviously seen her leg. What'd she tell you about it?"

Dave finally looked away from the man's piercing gaze and took a long swallow from his nearly-empty glass. Was Rob looking for details? Or did he just want to know how much Dave knew? "Enough. Everything."

"Everything? Like what?"

Dave looked up, saw both men watching him carefully. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then answered in a quiet voice. "About the ambush. The soldier she was trying to protect. How she almost opted for amputation."

Stunned silence greeted his words, stretching tight around them. He saw the two brothers exchange a long look, one filled with wordless communication before they both turned and looked at him.

"Get the fuck out. No shit."

"She's never told either one of us what happened. Never. I can't believe she told you." Rob pinned him with an intense look, his dark eyes serious, assessing, gauging. Dave didn't look away, didn't move, didn't do anything but meet that questioning stare straight on. But inside he was squirming, discomfort making him edgy as he wondered if he had just betrayed a confidence he hadn't realized he'd been privy to.

"Dad knew. At least part of it, which is how we knew. I'm thinking that maybe even he doesn't know all of it."

Or maybe he did, and hadn't felt the need to share, which is what Dave had just done. He wanted to sink into the ground, or throw himself into the fire. Instead, he leaned forward and crushed what was left of the cigar in the ashtray, wondering again how much of CC's confidence in him he had just betrayed.

Tim reached over and patted him on the shoulder. "Hey man, don't sweat it. We're not going to tell her you said anything, don't worry."

"You won't, but I will. I didn't realize you hadn't known, or I wouldn't have said anything at all."

The brothers exchanged another look of wordless communication then turned back to him. Something had changed in that brief moment, something that made him sit back, slightly stunned. After the initial interrogation yesterday, the three of them had been cordial, friendly. It was a new acquaintance that may or may not evolve into friendship based on his relationship with CC. In other words, they were nice to him because he was dating their sister.

But now there was something else. He saw respect and admiration in their gazes. Acceptance, not for who he was to their sister, but for who he was, period. He wasn't sure what to make of it, wasn't sure how he should take it.

The moment of realization passed in the blink of an eye, leaving them cloaked in camaraderie that went beyond their recent acquaintance. Dave stretched out in the chair, feeling more relaxed than he had just an hour ago—a feeling no doubt aided by the refill of bourbon Tim had poured into his glass.

The conversation drifted to more mundane topics, including their upcoming trip to Charleston in the morning. Something both brothers found amusing, considering that CC generally didn't bother making the hour drive to the charming city. Tim gave him some advice on what to see, and what to stay away from him. Then he laughed and warned Dave about CC's obsession with sweetgrass baskets.

"I'll bet you right now, she dumps at least three hundred dollars tomorrow."

Dave sputtered and choked, then looked over at Tim. "Three hundred dollars? On a basket? On
one
basket?"

"As much as it pains me to defend her, it's money well spent. These things can take weeks to make, and they're all done by hand." Rob's explanation did nothing to alleviate Dave's surprise.

"Yeah, it's almost a dying art. And they are kind of cool. If you're into that sort of thing. Mom has some in the kitchen and dining room if you want to take a look."

"No thanks. I can't exactly see me buying a basket for that kind of money, I don't care what it looks like."

Rob laughed and exchanged another glance with Tim. "You will. Especially if CC drags you to the Market. She'll walk you from one end to the other and ooh and ahh over all the vendors until she finds something she likes. Then you'll stand there for fifteen minutes, watching the ladies weave their magic. CC will fork over money for one she wants, then you'll start thinking that maybe you should go ahead and get one. Just a small one, as a little souvenir of your time in Charleston."

"Yeah, until you come back down and then decide to get another one."

Dave shook his head again in denial. "Not happening, I don't care what you say."

"What's not happening?"

Dave turned at the sound of CC's voice, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth when she stopped behind him and leaned over the back of his chair. She slid her arms around him, letting them rest against his chest as she pressed her mouth against his, her lips warm and soft. He groaned when she teased his tongue with hers, groaned again when she pulled away.

Then she grabbed the glass from his hand and straightened, taking a healthy sip. "So what's not happening?"

"Bubby and Tippy here are convinced I'm going to be spending money on baskets tomorrow when we go to Charleston."

CC choked on the bourbon, looked at Dave in surprise, then turned to her brothers. "Oops."

"Yeah, oops. You are so busted."

CC rolled her eyes then looked back at Dave, who chuckled at her total lack of remorse. "And you will."

"I will what?"

"Buy a basket. Trust me, everyone does. Even those two over there, acting all innocent."

"Is that a fact?" Dave turned back and noticed Rob and Tim both were glaring at their sister.

"Christ CC, is nothing a secret with you?" Tim shook his head in mock disgust. But CC didn't seem to mind, just stuck her tongue out at him before grabbing Dave's hand and pulling him from the chair.

"Mom said to bring the glasses inside when you're done, and to put the fire out before you come in. And Dad said there better be something left in that bottle, or you're both buying him one. Each."

Tim reached for the bottle at his feet, lifting it up into the firelight. Less than an inch of amber liquid floated in the bottom. "Oops."

"It was his fault." Rob pointed at Dave with a glass that was half-filled, then immediately lowered the evidence. CC just shook her head then started tugging on Dave's hand, leading him back toward the house.

"Where are you going?"

"Mom and Dad are watching the news, and I'm going to bed."

"You have to drag Dave with you?"

"Yes, I do."

"Why?"

CC paused and turned back to her brothers, her face scrunched in a perfect expression of sibling frustration. "Really?"

Rob punched Tim in the shoulder, then raised his glass toward both of them. "She thinks she's going to get a chance for some alone time, you dip shit. Like Mom and Dad aren't smart enough to figure that out."

"Watch it, Bubby. Remember, I know all the secrets and I'm not afraid to spill them." She turned back around, ignoring the laughter that followed them to the house.

Dave knew exactly what she was doing, because it had become a ritual the last two nights. They went into the house to say goodnight to her parents while they watched the news, then continued upstairs.

To get ready for bed.

Dave pulled her into the guest room and immediately into his arms, their mouths coming together in a frenzy, their hands hurried, desperate. The quick make-out sessions—he had no idea what else to call them—made him feel like a hormone-crazed teenager, hungering for a chance to reach third base.

Except this hunger was edgier than any he had felt as a teen, sharp with the knowledge of what it was like to be with the woman in his arms. His hands cupped around her ass and pulled her closer, his erection throbbing against the soft curves of her body. He pulled his mouth from hers, his breathing ragged, desperate.