Chapter Ten

Kayla studied the menu, conscious of the soft, romantic jazz fluttering from the piano in the corner. She hadn’t expected Soliloquy to be this nice, with its linen tablecloths and glowing candles on the table.

But Dr. Patience O’Toole had told her she deserved to give herself a romantic night on the town, so here she was. Just like the good doc suggested, Kayla wore a little black dress and strappy heels and the confidence of a woman comfortable dining alone.

Mostly. She set the menu down and smiled at the approaching waitress. “Hi there.”

“Good evening.” The waitress folded her hands behind her back. “Would you like to hear about our specials, or are you waiting for someone?”

“Nope, it’s just me.” She said the words brightly, infusing them with a please-don’t-feel-sorry-for-me vibe she hoped came through.

The waitress smiled. “Good for you. That’s a lovely necklace, by the way.”

“Oh, thank you.” Kayla fingered the emerald pendant at her throat and reminded herself to tip well. “It’s my first solo date night.”

“What an awesome idea.” Her smile widened, and Kayla felt the tension easing from her shoulders. “I’m Sidney, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight.”

“Kayla.”

Sidney rattled off the specials, including a steak with béarnaise sauce and a steelhead dish that sounded heavenly. Kayla listened, gaze snagging on a platter being carried past on another server’s tray.

“That’s the lobster risotto,” Sidney offered. “It’s to die for.”

“I think I’ll go with the cedar-planked salmon.” Kayla handed the menu back as Sidney nodded approvingly. “Can you recommend a wine pairing?”

“The dry grenache rosé from Abacela is a great choice,” she said. “Juicy with notes of strawberry and white pepper. I can bring you a taste if you like.”

“I’ll trust your judgment.” She smiled. “Go ahead and bring a full glass.”

“Excellent pick. Any starters for you?”

“The calamari sounds great,” she said. “Extra lemon slices, please?”

“Coming right out.”

Sidney disappeared, and Kayla had to admit she wasn’t all that hungry. She just needed something to do with her hands—a way to look strong and confident, with a sense of purpose. Even if the purpose was stuffing her face with calamari.

“Hi there.” A voice yanked her attention to the left, where a handsome guy holding a martini stood smiling at her. He gestured to the empty chair at her table. “I noticed you from across the room. Do you have someone joining you?”

She opened her mouth to lie. To tell him her big, burly boyfriend would be along any minute.

But why should she have to fib just to stroke some guy’s ego or get him to leave her alone?

“I don’t, actually, but I’d really like to—”

“Great!” The guy set his drink on the table and pulled out the chair, dropping into it before she could finish her objection. “I’m Robert, and can I just say that’s a beautiful necklace?”

Again, her hand went to the pendant. This time, she felt a lot ickier about it. Maybe it was the way his eyes lingered on the spot where the jewelry dipped low into her cleavage. She started to wriggle the dress up, to cover herself more fully.

But Dr. O’Toole’s words echoed in her head.

Be confident. Be secure. Be aware that some people will find it curious to see you sitting alone, but you owe no one an explanation or the precious gift of your time.

Kayla cleared her throat. “Thank you. That’s very sweet. If you don’t mind, though, I’d rather dine alone.”

The guy’s brow furrowed. “I don’t mind keeping you company. Here, let me buy you a drink.”

Kayla gritted her teeth, determined to stand strong. “I don’t want a drink, thank you.”

Understanding flashed in his eyes. “Ah, gotcha. My sister’s in recovery, too. Six years sober, and we’re all really proud of her.”

Irritation bubbled inside her. Being nice wasn’t working. Did she need to kick the guy in the knee?

“Look, Rodney—”

“Robert.” He smiled and leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his drink. “But my friends call me Rob.”

“Look, Robert.” She added a little grit to her voice, determined to stand up for herself. “I’d like you to leave. I’m sure you’re a very nice guy, but I’ve been looking forward to dining alone, so I’m asking you to go back to your table.”

He frowned. “You don’t have to be such a bitch about it.”

Her mouth fell open, and she was too stunned to say anything as she watched him retreat across the restaurant to a group of guys clustered at the bar. She saw him gesturing toward her, shaking his head in obvious disgust.

Good. Maybe his friends would get the message that she wasn’t interested. She should have told him she had some communicable disease, just to up her odds of being left alone.

“Here you go.” Sidney swooped back in with a plate piled high with breaded calamari. “Extra lemon, plus I brought you some of our garlic dipping sauce.”

“Garlic. Perfect.” Maybe if she guzzled it she could keep the Roberts of the world away.

Sidney smiled and set down a glass of blush-colored wine. “Your salad will be out in a minute. Oh, and that gentleman over there said he’d like to buy your drink.”

Kayla craned her neck to where Sidney pointed toward the bar. A guy in a gray suit waved at her, then lifted his own glass in a silent toast. She sighed.

“I’m really not interested,” she murmured to Sidney. “I’m buying my own wine.”

“That’s what I told him.” She gave Kayla a sympathetic look. “Want me to go say you’re married or something?”

“No, I’ll handle it.” She turned to the calamari, crossing her fingers the guy in the gray suit would take the hint. She concentrated on squeezing lemon over the whole platter, pleased she didn’t have to ask anyone else’s permission. Usually, when she went on dates, they’d end up splitting an app. It felt nice to order whatever she wanted—to douse the whole damn thing in lemon if she felt like it.

Why didn’t she do this more often?

“Excuse me. I wanted to come say hello.”

She looked up to see the guy in the gray suit had migrated to the edge of her table. She gritted her teeth, torn between the urge to be polite and her desire to tell him to take a hike.

“Hello,” she said as pleasantly as she could manage. “Thank you for offering to buy my wine, but I’m really just interested in treating myself tonight.”

“A feminist.” The guy grinned and sat down in the empty chair, not bothering to ask. “That’s fantastic. I love strong, independent women.”

Dude, no one’s asking for your approval.

Kayla bit back those words, as well as some other more colorful ones. “Look, I’m interested in being by myself right now,” she said. “Thank you, but no thank you.”

He frowned. “Was it something I said? Because I actually don’t like feminists that much.”

“I have gonorrhea!” She shouted it a lot louder than she meant to, causing a few heads to swivel around the restaurant.

The guy in the gray suit got up, practically knocking over his chair. “Crazy bitch,” he muttered, making a beeline back toward the bar.

Well. She’d been called a bitch twice before she’d had two bites of her appetizer. Progress?

With another sigh, she took a sip of her wine. Ah, that was wonderful. Bright and dry, with hints of strawberry and maybe honey. She could see how it would go great with the salmon. She should probably save it until her entrée arrived, to fully appreciate the pairing.

A thought flickered through her brain as she set the wine down. Had douchey gray-suit guy slipped anything in her drink? She didn’t think so, and she hadn’t taken her eyes off him, but still. She’d heard of these things happening.

“Goddamn it.” She uttered the curse aloud, hopefully scaring off any suitors in the immediate area. Nudging the wineglass aside, she chowed down on the calamari. It had the perfect cornmeal coating with just a little bit of spice. The squeeze of lemon had been just right, and she devoured the whole platter, sipping her water instead of the wine.

Sidney returned with her salad and another glass of rosé.

Kayla frowned. “Please tell me that’s not from some other random guy.”

“Nope.” The waitress offered a sympathetic smile and set the glass down. “It’s from me. Don’t worry; I’m not hitting on you. I saw you not touching your other one, and I can guess why.” Sidney glanced toward gray-suit guy and lowered her voice. “I’m sure he’s harmless, and I watched him the whole time he was over here to make sure he didn’t get near your drink. But just to be safe—”

“Thank you.” Kayla blinked back unexpected tears, her system flooding with gratitude for this token of girl-powered kindness. “You’re so getting a great tip.”

Sidney laughed and picked up the first glass of wine. “Pay it forward, sister. Women look out for each other.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” She picked up her new glass of wine and lifted it in a toast to Sidney. Who needed a man? Not her; no way.

Okay, having a man was nice sometimes. Her brain flashed back to Tony going down on her. God, the things he’d done with his mouth. And his fingers and—

No. Stop thinking about that. This is your time.

She took a sip of wine and started on her salad, determined not to spend one more minute of this meal thinking about any man. Not even Tony. Not even if he’d made her come her brains out like—

“That’s a great smile.” A guy in a blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up paused at her table and flashed her a broad grin. “What’s such a pretty girl doing all alo—”

“Step away from the table.” Kayla picked up the knife beside her plate and gripped it tight in her fist. Smiling through gritted teeth, she tipped the blade in his direction. “Please.”

The guy’s eyes widened. He backed away slowly, keeping one eye on the knife. “Right. Uh, have a nice night.”

Kayla set the knife down and went back to eating her salad. Maybe word got around the restaurant, because no one bothered her again as she dove into her salmon. She ate with relish, pleased with herself for fending off the assholes. Maybe some of them weren’t assholes, but for God’s sake, couldn’t a woman eat in peace?

Using her last bite of salmon to swab up a swirl of truffled cauliflower puree, she popped it in her mouth and chewed. So, this was what it felt like to be on a date with herself. She pushed her plate back and smiled. She’d done it. Treated herself to date night and stood up for herself in the process.

It felt good.

Almost as good as what Tony had done with his fingers when—

“For God’s sake.” Disgusted with herself, she peeled the napkin off her lap and set it on the table. Scanning the restaurant for Sidney to bring the check, her eyes settled on a familiar figure parked at the bar.

Broad-shouldered and dark-haired, he had his back to her. But Kayla would know those forearms anywhere. Heat pooled in her belly as she stood up and strode over to the bar. Slipping her hands over his eyes, she leaned in close enough to whisper in his ear.

“Waiting for someone?”

The second she said it, she second-guessed herself. Shit, what if he was here for a date?

“Kayla.” He turned around, grinning. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

She smiled, sidling onto the barstool beside Tony and folding her hands on the bar. “You mean you didn’t come here looking for me?”

“Maybe.” He smiled and picked up his drink, which looked a lot like club soda. “Or maybe I came to get hammered.”

Laughing, she grabbed the drink out of his hand and took a sip. Yep. Club soda. She handed it back and swept a hand toward her table. “I was about to get the check, but I’ll stick around if you want to share dessert.”

“You sure?” His brow furrowed. “I did come here to make sure you weren’t being hounded by creeps, but I know you wanted to do this alone.”

“And I did.” She smiled and tucked her hair behind one ear. “But I don’t want to do the crème brûlée alone, so please join me.”

“You know the way to a guy’s heart.” He slid off his stool and took her hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Like that simple gesture didn’t send sharp sparks of delight shooting up her arms and into the tinderbox of her heart.

…

“Do you want coffee or tea or anything to go with that?”

The waitress’s question gave Tony a few seconds to watch Kayla in action. He loved how she asked smart questions about the difference between two of the after-dinner liqueurs on the menu—stuff he couldn’t even begin to pronounce. He loved how friendly and open she was, at least when creepy strangers weren’t hitting on her.

He’d watched her for nearly an hour before she’d spotted him at the bar, keeping his distance so she wouldn’t think he didn’t trust her to take care of herself.

And she had taken care of herself, giving those jerks the boot even though some were aggressive as hell. She’d handled herself with grace and steel and total badass confidence. It was one of the things he loved about her.

Loved like a friend, dammit. That’s all this was.

“Anything for you, sir?”

The waitress’s voice pulled him back to the menu in front of him. “I’m good, thanks.” He set the menu down and picked up his glass. “Maybe a little more club soda, but no rush.”

“Coming right up.” She threw a wink at Kayla. “You want two spoons with that crème brûlée?”

Kayla grinned at Tony. “I suppose I’ll share.”

The waitress laughed. “Make him earn that spoon, girlfriend.”

Still smiling, Kayla turned to him as the waitress hurried away. “We’ve bonded.”

“I can see that.”

“She’s been watching my back.”

He made a show of peering at the back of her dress, then wished he hadn’t. The fabric dipped low, almost to the top of her butt. God, she looked sexy.

“It’s a great back.” He croaked the words, which sounded a lot dorkier than they had in his head. “Can’t blame her for keeping an eye on it.”

“Thanks.” Kayla sipped her water and studied his face. “You okay? I forgot to ask how your boys’ night went the other night. Was the one tonight good?”

“Both were cool, but the one with my brother was better.”

Her brow furrowed. “Your brother? I thought you were meeting up with some other firefighters.”

Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that. This is what he got for ogling his ex-girlfriend’s naked flesh.

Tony cleared his throat. “My brother’s a Hotshot. We—uh—don’t see each other that much.”

Kayla opened her mouth like she wanted to say something. Then closed it again, nodding once. “You know I’ll give you time alone whenever you want it, right? I wouldn’t dream of tagging along if you didn’t want me to.”

“It’s not that.” God, what was it? Did he really want to go down this path? “It’s complicated.”

“Got it.” She sipped her water again. “You don’t have to tell me anything. Just know I’m here to listen if you want to share stuff about your family or—well, anything.”

Did he want to share? He never had before. Not even with the guys on his crew. They knew Joel, sure. Some of them had even worked with him over the years. But no one knew the complicated history. Not even his oldest buddy, Leo; not all of it.

“I sorta raised my brother.”

Now where had that come from?

Kayla blinked, and then her eyes filled with sympathy. “I didn’t know that. He’s younger than you?”

“Yeah. Three and a half years. We, uh, moved out when he was fourteen.”

He watched as the wheels turned in her head and her brow furrowed. “Which would have made you—seventeen?—when you took in a teenager by yourself?”

“Yeah. Something like that.”

He waited for her to press. To ask questions about what would prompt two teenage boys to leave their parents’ home before they were old enough to vote.

But that wasn’t Kayla’s style. She didn’t push, didn’t pressure. Not even when he could tell she wanted to.

He appreciated that more than she could know. Other words stalled in his throat. Words he’d never said out loud, not to anyone.

He wasn’t ready to say them now.

“It was a long time ago,” he said instead. “I, um, I don’t really talk about it much.” Ever. He couldn’t believe he’d said any of this to Kayla. “Is it okay if we don’t talk about it now?”

“Of course.” The softness in Kayla’s voice drew him back from the edge of ugly memories. The softness in her eyes drew him in further. “Thank you.”

Tony shook off the bitter thoughts. “Thank you for what?”

“For sharing. I know that’s not your thing. That’s the first time you’ve ever told me about your past.”

“Yeah.” He dragged a hand down his face. “Maybe I really am growing.”

“You are.” Her smile lit him up from inside. “You definitely are.”

He nodded, absently rubbing a hand over his chest where it had started to ache. “So gonorrhea, huh?” He smiled when she gave him a startled look. “I might have overheard that.”

She rolled her eyes as she fiddled with the edge of the tablecloth. “I wasn’t serious. In case you’re worried about—” She trailed off, color tinging her cheeks. “You know.”

“I wasn’t worried,” he said. “I thought it was a great defense.”

“Thanks.” She brightened as the waitress brought the crème brûlée, along with two spoons and a fresh club soda for Tony.

He thanked her as Kayla picked up a spoon and offered it to him. “Nah, you go ahead,” he said. “You should have it all to yourself.”

“I really shouldn’t,” she insisted. “Come on. Dig in.”

Hesitating, he took the spoon and dipped it into the corner. The sugared crust cracked, revealing creamy custard beneath. He spooned it up, watching Kayla’s face as she did the same.

“Damn, that’s good.” She closed her eyes and did a little swoon, making Tony’s chest do likewise. “You like?”

“I like.” He wasn’t talking about the dessert.

Clearing his throat, he ordered himself to stop ogling her. “What’s the worst pickup line you’ve ever gotten?”

Tilting her head to the side, she considered it. “The guy who walked up to me and asked, ‘Are those space pants?’”

“Space pants?” He frowned. “I don’t get it.”

“I didn’t either. I started explaining that they were just jeans I’d gotten at a consignment shop downtown, but he interrupted me and repeated, ‘Space pants!’ all frustrated. Then he added, ‘Because your ass is out of control.’”

Tony frowned. “I still don’t get it.”

“The line is supposed to be ‘out of this world.’ He didn’t even get that part right.”

“Ouch.”

She shrugged and aimed her spoon at the crème brûlée. “To be fair, alcohol may have been a factor.”

He dipped his spoon into the dessert again, more annoyed than he had a right to be with any guy who’d made her uncomfortable like that. “Sorry you have to put up with that sort of shit.”

“It’s not always that bad,” she said. “Once, there was a guy who came up and asked me to feel his shirt.”

“Interesting approach.”

“I didn’t, of course,” she said. “So he rubs his sleeve on the back of my hand—like this—and says, ‘It’s made of boyfriend material, just like me.’”

“Gross.” What wasn’t gross was the warmth of Kayla’s arm against his hand. Jesus, her skin was soft. “Have lines like that worked in the history of ever?”

“Nope.” She shook her head. “Wait, no—I take it back. There was this one guy, Jamie. We ended up dating for a few months. We met when he came up to me at a bar and said, ‘My buddies bet me I wouldn’t have the guts to talk to the prettiest girl in this place. What do you want to do with their money?’”

An unwelcome pinch of jealousy nipped the space between his ribs. “You’ve got quite a history of interesting bets.”

“I thought it was pretty clever. Better than the usual crap, like, ‘Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’ or ‘Are you tired from running through my dreams all night?’”

“Guys really try those lines?”

“Affirmative.” She grabbed another bite of dessert and regarded him over the edge of her spoon. “How about you? Ever used a cheesy pickup line?”

“Nope. Not once. Ever.” He was pretty sure, anyway.

“Okay, how about bad breakup stories,” she said. “Based on the number of exes you have, I’m guessing there are some doozies.”

He shrugged, giving it some thought. “Maybe one or two.”

“Give me an awkward breakup story,” Kayla said. “A time that didn’t go according to plan.”

He considered it, sipping his fresh soda. “In college, this girl dumped me at my place,” he said. “We’d been studying together and then fooling around, and out of nowhere she says we shouldn’t date anymore because she’d started seeing her ex again, and he had a Porsche, so…”

“Ouch.”

“That’s not the awkward part.” He grinned and stole another bite of dessert. “She forgot she didn’t have her car because I’d driven her there. This was before Uber, so after she gave her speech and walked out the door, she had to slink back into my apartment and ask me to drive her home.” He cleared his throat. “In my shitty Volvo station wagon, instead of a Porsche.”

“But you did it, because you’re a gentleman.”

He had to admire her faith in him. He also had to be honest. “Not that much of a gentleman.” He grinned again. “I might have felt smug two months later when I heard the guy ditched her for someone else.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t do something douchey, like put sugar in his gas tank or raw shrimp in his trunk.”

“Nope, I didn’t do that. Why waste good sugar or shrimp?”

Kayla laughed and dug into the dessert again. “Tell me another awkward breakup story.”

“Oh-kay.” He had to think a minute. “There was this woman I’d been dating a couple months. I’d just finished my second season as a Hotshot, and I was excited to spend some time with her after being gone all summer. But she’d planned this whole breakup speech about how she didn’t see things going anywhere with us and she could tell I wasn’t really into her.”

Which sounded weirdly familiar, now that he said it out loud.

He kept going, not wanting to derail his story. “Anyway, she gets to the end of her breakup speech, and I finally get a word in. ‘Damn,’ I told her. ‘Helluva speech to get on my birthday.’”

Kayla’s eyes widened. “Was it really your birthday?”

“Yep.” And probably a good indication of how little he’d let her into his life, if she hadn’t known that after two months of dating. “She got all flustered and apologetic and said, ‘I’m so sorry—if you want, we can go out tonight and break up tomorrow instead.’”

Kayla laughed, wincing in sympathy. “Ow. Sorry. Did you take her up on it?”

“Nah, I was fine. To be honest, I wasn’t too bummed about it.”

Which he’d always seen as a positive sign. But the more time he spent analyzing his past failures, the more he’d started to wonder if it wasn’t. If he’d done such a bang-up job walling himself off that no one really knew the real Tony.

Not even Kayla.

Fumbling in his memory bank for a better story, he located a doozy. “I dated this girl a few years ago—Imogene Lux.”

“That’s a great name.” Kayla licked her spoon, making Tony lose his train of thought.

“Yeah, so I was out on a fire in northern Idaho. I finally had service after five days without, so I’m texting her from my sleeping bag.”

A memory flickered in his mind from back when he and Kayla dated. He’d been on a fire with Grady, and the bastard wouldn’t stop smiling. All evening, texting Willa from his sleeping bag, as the two lovebirds got to know each other. The way his buddy lit up like a lantern made Tony burn with jealousy.

He wanted that, both then and now. Back then, he’d thought maybe it could be Kayla.

Why the fuck had he let her get away?

“Anyway,” he continued, getting back to his story. “She texts and says she has something important to discuss, and could I maybe call? So I jump out of my sleeping bag and cram my feet into my boots so I can go off into the trees and make the call without annoying the rest of the crew.”

“Thoughtful of you.”

“Thoughtful, maybe,” he said. “But I wasn’t actually thinking. Any idiot who spends time outdoors knows to check his boots first before sticking his damn feet in them.”

“Uh-oh—”

“Yep.” He grimaced, still remembering the pain. “Stepped right on a scorpion. Big sucker, too.”

“Oh my God.” Kayla drew her hands to her mouth. “Were you okay?”

“It hurt like a son of a bitch, but yeah, I was fine.” He grinned and sipped his soda. “Anyway, I finally called Imogene after the throbbing died down. She dumped my ass, of course. Which hurt considerably less than the scorpion sting.”

“That’s horrible.” She studied his face, something more serious glinting through the laughter. “Does it ever get to you?” she asked.

Unease rippled up his spine. “What do you mean?”

“All these breakups. Do they ever penetrate your armor? Break your heart? Anything at all?”

“Sometimes.” More than he wanted to admit.

“Which ones?”

“What?”

“Which breakups have hurt the most?” she asked. “Maybe if we get to the bottom of that, we can start to figure it out.”

You.

The word flashed through his brain unbidden, a puff of smoke in the back of his mind.

He’d joked about their breakup at the time. Told his buddies it didn’t matter. Told Kayla it didn’t matter, when she suggested they just be friends.

It did matter.

It still mattered.

He hadn’t ever admitted that. Not to her. Not to himself.

Say it. Tell her.

But he couldn’t do that. Doing that would put him right back in that scary, vulnerable place, and no way was he willing to go there.

The clatter of her spoon pulled him back to the moment. She’d finished the dessert and was looking at him with a hunger he knew had nothing to do with crème brûlée.

“Tony?”

“Yeah?”

She squared her shoulders, breasts rising as she took a breath. “About what happened between us the other night—”

“Kay, it’s all right.” He held up a hand, ready to reassure her. “We can just pretend it didn’t happen. This doesn’t have to be awkward.”

She kicked him under the table. Hard.

“Ow.” He rubbed his shin as she glared at him from across the table. “What was that for?”

“Will you let me finish, you big jerk?”

She didn’t sound mad, but he couldn’t figure out the look in her eyes. At least he had the sense to keep his mouth shut so she could continue.

“I was trying to say this is silly,” she said. “This pretending it didn’t happen or acting like we don’t both want it to happen again. I’m right, aren’t I?”

He nodded dumbly, knowing that was the only safe answer. “You’re right.”

“So, I say we act like grown-ups about this.” Tossing her hair, she looked him dead in the eye. “We have good sexual chemistry, and we’re both capable of satisfying each other like adults.”

“I—” Jesus, what did he even say to that? “Yes.”

She smiled and whisked her napkin off her lap, setting it beside her empty water glass. “Good. Then we’re on the same page. Let me just get the check, and we can go.”

Go? This was really happening?

Tony’s brain reeled—though, to be honest, it wasn’t his brain working overtime.

“I can pitch in for dessert.” He started to reach for his wallet but stopped when she glared again.

“This is my date,” she said. “My chance to be a strong, independent woman who goes after what I want. And right now, I want no-strings sex with you.”

Tony swallowed hard as all the blood drained from his head. “Yes, ma’am,” he agreed, willing to do just about anything when she looked at him like that.

“Good.” She smiled. “Let’s do it.”