Putting Out Old Flames (11 page)

J
ane stomped up the driveway and charged into the firehouse. A quick glance showed that her quarry wasn't in the living room. Chief Finnegan, Martinez, and a new recruit sat at a long wood table playing cards; a long wall of trophies was displayed behind them.

Poor suckers. Unless they produced Chance, they'd be contending with her wrath today. With only three hours' sleep under her belt, Jane and reason had parted company sometime around breakfast that morning.

“Dispatch Jane!” Martinez waved her over, a smirk dancing around his lips as he looked her up and down. “You play Texas Hold 'Em?”

“Not today.” She marched over to the men.

The chief laid down his cards. “You okay? You look tired.”

Martinez leaned across the table. “I don't think you're supposed to say that to women,” he said in a hushed tone.

Finnegan ignored him.

“I am tired.” Jane placed her palms on the table. “I'm tired because your fireman kicked my mom out of her building. He kicked her out, and she's staying with me. In my bed. Until her electrical passes code. Do you have any idea how long that could take?”

A dog howled in the distance and Jane took her voice down a couple levels below screeching. “Several weeks. My mom called around for estimates this morning.”

“You're sleeping next to your mother.” Finnegan cringed. “That's rough.”

Jane cocked her head. Tried to process that odd statement, but her mind didn't want to focus.

“I heard about Chance's decision. And even though your mom's not happy, I support him.” The chief raised his hand. “She shouldn't have passed inspection last year, and I had some words with the man who passed her with just a warning.” He frowned, and the Irish surfaced in his voice. “He'll be elbow-deep cleaning toilets for a long time to come, you can be sure of that.”

The new recruit and Martinez flinched. The toilets here must be filthy.

“That doesn't really help me.” She pushed off the table. “Where's Chance? Upstairs?”

“Hold up there.” Finnegan got to his feet. “You hurting my number-two man won't help you, either. Besides, he did it because he was concerned about Edith's safety, and for her neighbors. He made the right call.”

Jane's anger deflated a bit. “She could have had it fixed while she was living there. She's been in the building for five years and nothing's happened yet.”

Finnegan's stare made her feel like she was back in grammar school.

“Jane?” Chance loped down the stairs two at a time. “I thought I heard your voice.”

“Run, man,” Martinez hissed. “Run fast, run far.”

Finnegan sighed. “Martinez, go get lunch started.”

Martinez backed out of the room, pointing at Jane, making choking motions and pointing at Chance. The newbie pursed his lips, pushed off the table, and sidled out of the room after Martinez, never saying a word.

Chance shifted on his feet. “I guess you heard about your mom's store.”

“Heard about you evicting her from not only her store but her home as well?” She stalked up to him, poked him in the chest. “Yeah, I heard all about it. Between my mom harping on and on about what a rigid dill hole you are, and her kicking me all night in bed, I hardly got any sleep.”

Finnegan nodded, rubbed his leg absently, and Jane glared at him, her anger hot enough to encompass any male in the vicinity.

“Look,” Chance said. “When I pulled back a panel Edith had duct taped to the wall in her storeroom, I found several wires that were completely stripped of any insulation. Without taking down more of the walls, I had no way of knowing how extensive the problem was.” Chance's voice was everything that was reasonable.

Fire licked in Jane's gut. No way did he get to be the voice of logic. “You kicked her out! My mom isn't rolling in dough. If she can't run her store for a month, she might go out of business.”

Chance frowned. “It shouldn't take more than a week for those repairs.”

“
If
a contractor was available immediately.” Rubbing her gritty eyes, Jane sighed, the anger and fight draining out of her. Exhaustion took their place. “Unless she wants to pay an exorbitant sum of money that she can't afford, the earliest she can get someone out to her building is in three weeks.”

Chance rested his hand on her shoulder. Even though he was the source of all her problems, the contact was warm and heavy and comforting. She leaned into his touch.

“I'm sorry,” he said, his voice as soft as velvet. “It just wasn't safe. It looked like the electrical in that building was fifty years old. I didn't want anything to happen to her.”

And how the hell could she argue with that? For all her quirks and her sleep-kicking, her mom was great, and of course Jane didn't want anything to happen to her either. She had stormed down to the fire station before her morning cup of coffee, all hellfired to really give it to Chance. Maybe that was her problem. She needed her coffee. Then she could figure out what to do about her mom.

She wrinkled her forehead. She had some savings she could give her mother, but she didn't think Edith would accept money. The woman never hesitated to give to charity, but accepting it was another matter.

Chance grasped her face between his two hands, his thumbs massaging the stress out of her temples. “I'll help you figure something out.”

“What?” She should step away from him. His gesture was too familiar, especially in front of the chief. It would give him, and Chance, the wrong idea about their relationship. And in a couple of minutes, she would step back. She bit back a moan as his thumbs brushed a particularly sensitive spot.

“I can see what you're thinking,” Chance said. “When your face gets all scrunched up, I know you're worrying about everyone around you. You never worry that much about yourself.” He leaned in, and Jane inhaled his clean scent of soap and man. Pressing his mouth to her ear, he murmured, “Don't worry, Janey-girl. We'll think of something.”

“I know some guys.” Finnegan's gruff voice interrupted the spell she was falling under. With Chance pressed so closely to her, his smell, his strength enveloping her, it was hard for a girl to keep her head on straight. Digging down deep, Jane summoned up her willpower and pushed away from Chance, turning to the chief.

“What guys?” she asked.

“Electrical contractors.” He scratched his jaw. “They're retired but still licensed. And they owe me a favor. And Chance and I and some of the other guys here can put the walls back up, slap on a new coat of paint, on our downtime. We'll have it looking like a brand-new place at very little cost.” He crossed his arms across his burly chest, a patch of auburn hair curling above the vee of his polo shirt. “Edith deserves that much.”

Chance also crossed his arms over his chest, but when he did it, he didn't look determined like the chief. He looked like a boy who'd just had his birthday present stolen.

Jane tilted her head to the side, lowered her brow. One second he was all
We'll figure something out. I just want to help you.
And the next he's ticked off because he had to help fix the mess he created? What the hell?

“I can find some guys.” Chance faced off with the chief. “No need to call in a favor.”

“I'm happy to help out Jane and her mother.” Finnegan looked down his nose at Chance. “Besides, where will you be finding a contractor? You don't know anyone here, do you now?”

Chance cracked a knuckle on one of his fingers. “I know some guys in Lansing. I can handle it.”

“Lansing's a couple of hours away. My guys are local.” Finnegan took a step forward. “I think Edith would prefer my contractors.”

Jane's mouth dropped open. It was like watching two junkyard dogs circling a bone. She'd woken up this morning with nothing but problems, and now she was listening to two men argue over multiple solutions. Her brain didn't want to focus, just wanted to go back to sleep. She didn't understand what was going on, and she didn't care.

She cut in before Chance could argue for his
guys
again. “Figure it out! I don't care which contractors you use, just get it done.” Winding a key off its ring, she slapped it down on the table. “Here's the key for my mom's building. Give it to whichever contractor you choose, and tell him it's a rush job.” She rubbed her temple. “I don't know how many more nights like last night I can take without snapping.”

Finnegan's face softened in sympathy. “Aye. Don't you worry. We'll get it done as fast as possible.”

Chance clenched his hands into fists, but nodded his agreement. “We'll sort it out, Jane. And if you need a good night's sleep—”

Jane put a stop to wherever that train of thought was heading. “Don't want to hear it.” Her body offered up a token protest at her immediate refusal. That sounded like it could have been an interesting offer, one that could possibly make her body very, very happy. She told her body to shut up and promised it a nap during her break at work today. “Just call me when it's done.”

Both men nodded. She didn't protest when Chance took her elbow, and led her to her car.

“You okay to drive?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Jane unlocked her car. “My first stop will be Starbucks. I'll be fine.”

“Okay.” He settled her in the seat and leaned down. “Don't worry, Jane. I'll sort it out.”

If there was an emphasis on the
I'll
, Jane didn't acknowledge it. She couldn't analyze the weird pissing match that had just occurred. She was just too tired to understand anything other than the fact that she didn't understand men at all.

* * *

Jane poked at the yellow piece of paper Chance was glowering at. “Right there. With the check mark. That was supposed to be your job!”

She, Chance, and Judge Nichols were holding an emergency meeting in her apartment after it'd been discovered that
someone
—she glared at Chance—hadn't secured the caterer like he was supposed to. Now it was two weeks before the ball and they had no food.

“There's a check mark by that number on the list,” Chance growled. “Check marks mean it's already done.”

“No, the check mark means I wanted you to do it,” Jane said. “You said you wanted to help. I gave you the caterer and the florist.” Leaning back on the couch, she sighed. “You haven't called the florist, either.”

“No.” Chance smacked his hand on the coffee table, picked up the to-do list, and waved it in her face. “Because there's a big fricking check mark in front of it.”

She narrowed her eyes. Jane wasn't normally a violent person, but she really wanted to smack him. How could he be so dense? And now he was trying to blame her for his mess.

Edith poked her head in from the kitchen. “What did you expect, Jane? My place is one giant mess. If he can't organize one teensy rewiring, how do you think he's going to organize a fundraiser?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, Chance sighed. “It's only been one day, Edith. It's going to look like a mess for a couple of days before it comes together.”

She sniffed. “So you say.” Picking up a cup of tea, she drifted across the living room. “I'll be in the bedroom taking a nap. No offense, Jane. But I just don't sleep well with you next to me.”

Jane waited for the door to snick shut before biting down on her fist and stifling a scream. “I'm hard to sleep next to? The bags under my eyes would require oversized-luggage fees.”

Chance smiled. “I don't know what Edith's talking about. I never had any problems sleeping next to you.”

Judge Nichols coughed into his fist, and Jane glared at Chance. Reason number 212 to add him to her shit list. She knew the judge didn't think she was a virgin, but she still didn't want to fling her past love life in his face.

“Can we get back to the topic at hand?” she asked through clenched teeth. “Namely, your screwup and what we're going to do to solve it?”

“My screwup?” Chance inhaled deeply through his nose, let the breath out through his teeth with a hiss. “I'm not taking responsibility for this cluster fu—” Darting a look at the judge, he cut off the end of his tirade.

A flash of orange darted behind the couch they were sitting on. Jane watched as a bristly tail stalked around the corner, circling behind Chance. When Cyclops's tail got that twitchy, it wasn't a good sign. She smiled.

“Children,” Judge Nichols said sternly, wiping the smile off her face right quick, “I expected better from the two of you. You were supposed to be working together.”

“We were,” she protested. “I gave Chance a list to do and I did mine.” She spun on him. “Didn't you think there was anything strange when you went over the unchecked items and found that I'd already done them?”

He shrugged. “When I called the band and they said they'd already confirmed with you, I figured you didn't trust me and had decided to do everything yourself.”

The judge interrupted Jane's fuming. “And you didn't call her to confirm that was the case?” The older man clucked his disapproval.

Jane smirked at Chance, and the judge turned on her. “And you didn't call to check in with his progress? You two are the cochairs of an important event. I expected better.”

Jane lowered her chin toward her chest. “I'll call the florist. I know Paul pretty well since he helps with the Flower Rangers. If Chance will get a caterer—”