Burn (L.A. Untamed #2) (6 page)

“Is that so? Did you forget that you’re in our house, visiting us, not the other way around?”

I purse my lips at him. “I need to talk to Elle.”

“What do you need to talk to Elle about that you can’t talk to me about?”

“Sex.”

“Did you forget that I’m an expert on that subject?”

Elle nods. “He is, you know. He knows everything.”

Grinning, Paul thumps his chest. “That’s my woman!” he says, winking at Elle.
God these two are so annoying together.

“Expert or not, you’re my brother and there’s no way I’m having this discussion with you here. That’s just gross.”

He holds his hands up in the air. “Okay, okay. Your loss,” he grumbles as he walks away and closes the hall door behind him.

“So what’s up?” Elle asks as she pours wine in my glass.

I shake my head. “I just don’t understand what’s happening to me. You know I met Mike right after I got hired by our Battalion Chief. At that time I was completely focused on Mike, and had less than zero interest in any of the guys in my squad. Sure, most of them are good looking, in top shape with bodies that any woman would appreciate. But I never looked at them that way, especially once I got to know them well. But something weird is happening to me. I’m thinking inappropriate thoughts a lot, even at work, and it’s making me crazy.”

Elle sits down and scoots her chair closer to the table. “So is this about feeling more sexual in general, or is there one guy in particular you’re fixated on?”

My cheeks get hot and I turn away.

“It’s one guy,” Elle says without waiting for my answer. It must be her female instinct. “What’s his name?”

“His name is Joe. He’s the lieutenant for our squad.”

“Is he hot?” Elle asks with a grin.

“Oh yeah.” I fan my face with my hand. He’s scorching.”

“Whoa, I’ve never seen you like this.”

“I know, right? I never even came close to feeling this physically drawn to Mike . . . like I want to climb his tree. This is why I’m pretty sure I’m losing it.”

“Maybe this is just what you need. He’s not in a relationship or anything, is he?” she asks.

“Not that I know of.”

“Okay, so that’s good.”

“And it’s not just his looks . . . not by a long-shot. We had a talk last night after he’d been on a tough call, and he was really shook up. He genuinely cares about helping people. He’s a good man, Elle, and that’s what makes him really stand out.”

“He sounds pretty great,” she responds with a gentle smile.

“And you know how I’ve talked about the guys at the station always giving each other shit, and cutting each other down? Well, Joe’s been so nice to me lately . . . like extra nice. Those guys are never very nice to me, usually riding me harder than the others. His kindness makes me want to . . . you know, get closer to him.”

“Has he made the moves?” Elle asks.

“Oh, he’s not interested in me that way.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m not the kind of woman guys like him want.”

“How do you know that?” Elle asks in a stern voice.

“I just know,” I answer defensively.

Elle folds her arms over her chest. “I swear, Trisha, where do you get these hang ups? Paul said his friends still ask about you.”

I roll my eyes at her.

“That face of yours with those blue eyes and full lips. To top it off you have a great body.”

“No I don’t.”

“Just quit arguing with me and take the compliments.”

“Honestly, Joe doesn’t say much so it’d be hard to tell even if he did like me that way.”

Elle taps her fingers on the tabletop. “Hmmm.”

“Although there was one thing . . .” I say.

“Yes?”

“When he came to my place to see about parking his tiny house there, he said something about being inappropriate with me . . . or maybe it was
not
being inappropriate with me. I was so flustered that I may have it all mixed up.”

“Well, either way, that’s promising . . . just the idea that he’s thinking along those lines,” Elle says with a big smile.

The hall door opens and Paul strolls back into the kitchen to pull a beer out of the fridge.

“Wait, did you say he has a tiny house?” Elle asks. “Why is he parking it at your place?”

“Who’s parking what at your place?” Paul asks as he pops the cap off the bottle.

“The lieutenant from her station may be parking his tiny house on her property,” Elle explains.

Paul scowls.

“Don’t worry. It’s just temporary. The land he was on was sold and they’re rushing him to move. I’m just helping him out, and I like the idea of having someone around.”

Paul sits up taller. “Well, I want to meet him.”

“You mean like check him out?”

He nods.

I roll my eyes. “He’s the lieutenant at my station, not a drug dealer, dude.”

Elle leans over and strokes Paul’s cheek. “That’s so sweet that you’re looking out for your little sister, baby.”

“Will you two stop it before I vomit?” I push back my chair. “I’m heading out, but before I leave you’ve got to tell me. Do you think something’s wrong with me . . . you know, because I’m suddenly thinking about this guy all the time?”

“Is she talking about the lieutenant guy?” Paul asks Elle. I love that he’s asking her like I’m not here.

“Yes, his name is Joe and he’s hot,” she replies with a wink before she turns back to me. “I don’t think anything’s wrong with you being worked up and liking this guy, Trish. It may be just what you need to get over what happened with Mike.”

“But isn’t it wrong for me to be attracted to another man while I’m grieving the end of my marriage?” I ask.

Paul shrugs like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “It means you’re alive.”

My eyebrows knit together. “Alive? Like what? I was dead before?”

“Maybe,” he says with an earnest look like I should figure out what the hell that means.

Elle glances at Paul, and then at me, and the fact that she doesn’t disagree makes me think she thought I was dead too.

I feel a deep anger stir up deep in my gut. It would’ve been handy if they’d pointed this out before my whole life blew apart. Was I that detached to not realize my life should have been more?

And how exactly do I resurrect myself? I need a manual to teach me how to live again . . . or perhaps I need a strapping firefighter who’s willing to give me some hands-on lessons.

Late that night I get another call from Mike. As I let it ring to voicemail something comes over me. Maybe it’s exhaustion, or just my curiosity getting the best of me, but I pick up the call. I don’t say anything, just sit silently and wait for the cheater to talk.

“Trish?” he says. “Are you there?”

“I picked up the call, didn’t I?”

“Finally,” he sighs. “How are you doing?”

“Just peachy. Thanks for asking.” To say my tone is sarcastic would be an understatement. My bad mood is in full swing.

There’s a long pause. “Please don’t be this way. I’m hurting Trish, it’s bad. Don’t you miss me at all?”

I bite my tongue. I want to go off on him, but judging from his bleak tone, I don’t have it in me to be that mean. Something else occurs to me.

“Hey, when we were still together did you happen to notice that I was dead inside?”

“What are you talking about?” he asks, sounding frustrated.

“You know, dead—lifeless, without life.”

“I know what dead means, Trish. I’m just not sure how it pertains to you.”

“I just have all these crazy feelings now and I don’t understand what’s happening to me, and Paul and Elle implied that it’s because I’m not dead inside anymore.”

“That’s just awesome. Can you thank the happy couple for me? It feels great to know they think I enhanced your life so profoundly while we were together.”

“Sure thing,” I say.

“Trish, are you serious with this stuff. Did you really feel dead in our marriage?”

“I don’t know. I went to work, I came home, I did yardwork and got the groceries, and waited for you to come home from the flower shop. I can’t say I felt particularly alive.”

“There’s a lot of mundane tasks in all of our lives, but what about the other times, like when we had fun?”

“When was that?”

“Like when we’d go to Greenblatt’s deli and have pastrami sandwiches and then see the acts at the Comedy Store on Sunset. That was great.”

“We haven’t done that in at least two years, Mike. You were always working at the shop.”

“Well, how about we go next weekend?”

“You aren’t getting what I’m saying.”

He lets out a long sigh. “I get it. Believe me, I do. What makes you think I’m not dead inside, too? Especially now that you kicked me out. I think we won’t really feel alive again until we get back together and work things out.”

He was always so fucking stubborn. He always has to get his way.

He clears his throat. “I know! Let’s go to Italy. You’ve always wanted to go there.”

Really? He’s the one that wants to go to Italy. My head suddenly feels hot and I’m fired up. Am I transforming like the Hulk or something? Because I’m pretty sure T. Rex is in the building.

“Will Stanley be joining us in Italy?” I ask between gritted teeth.

“No Stanley won’t be joining us,” he says with a gruff voice. “You aren’t going to make this easy, are you Patricia?”

“Why should I? You don’t deserve easy. I think my disdain for you is well deserved. On top of it, you knew I was dead in our marriage and you didn’t even mention it.”

“Mention it?” he says, his voice an octave higher.

“Yeah, fuck you for not mentioning that I was dying a slow death right before your eyes. But oh yeah, I forgot you were never home enough to notice.”

“Says the firefighter who spent over half her life living with a bunch of hot men who wear suspenders with no shirts and slide down poles.”

What the hell with the suspenders with no shirts?

My fingers grip the phone so tight my fingertips turn white. He must have a secret stash of those sexy firemen calendars. What do you bet he gets off looking at them?

“Says the cheater who’d gladly trade spots with his wife to be around all the hot men.”

“Oh Jesus, would you just stop? For God’s sake. I bet you’d be happy if I were dead. Not this bullshit pretend-dead, but really dead. Wouldn’t you?”

“I’m not playing into your emotional blackmail. Screw you, Michael Irving Castallani the third. Screw you and the Sasquatch you screw!”

I poke my finger at my phone’s screen to end the call when I desperately want the satisfaction of slamming the receiver of an old-school phone down so the sound is like a gunshot in his ears.

Stupid fucking smart phones.

I spend the next hour storming through the house ranting and throwing things until I have nothing left in me. I head to the bedroom, strip naked—too drained to care about my pj’s—and crawl into bed. Why I start crying like a baby when my head hits the pillow, who the hell knows? I guess it’s just one more sign that, like it or not, I’m finally alive.

I’m trying my best to focus the next day, and I’m doing pretty good through the morning’s equipment check, and gym time. But we’re filing into the training room when Joe steps up close behind me, and leans in to whisper in my ear, “I need to talk to you. Meet me in the office after.”

I don’t turn around, just silently nod as I try to maintain my composure. But damn, his breath on my neck and the whiff of his aftershave have sparked a throb between my legs and I squeeze my knees together tightly. Suddenly I’m feeling extra alive.

Needless to say, the training session on disabling hybrid cars in an emergency becomes a hopeless cause due to Joe distracting me. It’s all blah, blah, blah . . . propulsion system . . . blah blah blah . . . live ignition recognition.

Considering how many hybrids we have in L.A. with all these do-gooder
‘anything to help the environment’
folks, I really should learn how to extricate one of these kale munchers out of their toy cars in the case of a pile-up.

Sorry environment, but give me a beefy pick-up truck any day, so when one of those do-gooders rear-ends me while texting on the 101, it’ll be their car folding up like an accordion while their battery explodes, and I’ll have a few scratches on my bumper.