Burn for You (Texas Heat)

1. Seth

Chapter 1

Seth

“Another special delivery for our resident Casanova, Seth Teagan.”

Lieutenant Hardy plopped a package in my lap as I watched television in the common room of the firehouse. The rest of my company gave a collective groan. I smirked and held up the package, wrapped in cellophane paper, printed in pink hearts. It smelled faintly sweet with a hint of lingering perfume.

“Is that a note of jealousy I hear in your voice, Lieutenant?” I replied with a smirk, flipping open the heart-shaped note attached to the package.

Pretty handwriting read: To Seth, from Amy. Made with love.

Tearing off the paper, I lifted the box’s lid and found two dozen assorted cookies and brownies, still slightly warm from the oven. My mouth watered.

“I think I can safely speak for everyone in this room when I say that we’re all wondering how you can be on such good terms with your exes,” Lieutenant Hardy countered. “None of my ex-wives still make me cookies.”

I selected a fat wedge of brownie and bit into it. Soft, rich, and chewy chocolate melted on my tongue. I groaned with delight, tilting my head back to really rub it in the guys’ faces that I was thoroughly enjoying myself. They grumbled with discontentment.

“That’s a secret I’ll be taking to my grave, gentlemen,” I said. “I can’t help it if the ladies of Romeo, Texas flock to me like bees to honey.”

Our new candidate, Davies, gave a dramatic sigh of disgust and snapped his crossword puzzle book shut.

“Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I landed a second date?”

“Over a year,” I said around a mouthful of brownie. “You complain about it in the locker room every damn week.”

“Well, I’d appreciate it if you would stop sweeping all the ladies in town off their feet,” he protested. “When they see your charming smile and dashing good looks, it makes slim pickings for the rest of us. That six-pack you’re carting around doesn’t help either. You’re eating those cookies right in front of our faces and you don’t even have the decency to get fat doing it.”

I choked on a laugh.

“That’s not true. Widow Rogers has never flirted with me. Not once. We’ve rescued her cat from a tree three times this year already, and she hasn’t tried to pinch my ass. She reserves that honor strictly for you, my friend.”

The other firefighters snickered. Davies jutted out his chin with a withering look.

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny,” Lieutenant Hardy said.

“She pinches hard,” Davies said, indignant. “I’m bruised , you know.”

I snorted.

“Yeah, I’ve been forced to hear about that in the locker room, too.”

The snickers erupted into outright guffaws of amusement. I shot Davies a shit-eating grin and popped the last bite of brownie into my mouth.

“Although you have to admit, the age gap between you and Widow Rogers is a little steep. She’s…how old? In her seventies? And you’re fresh out of the academy—a young, strapping buck of twenty-one with a juicy peach, ripe for the pinching.”

Davies lobbed his crossword book at my head. I cackled and batted it aside.

The static of the intercom system and the dispatcher’s crisp, professional voice interrupted our banter.

“House fire at West Chester and Dogwood Drive.”

Lieutenant Hardy was out of his chair in a heartbeat as he ruffled Davies’ hair.

“Let’s move, boys. It’s about time we saw some action on this sluggish weekend. I’m going stir crazy with you bastards in here.”

Davies trotted behind Hardy like a puppy as we made our way out to Truck 7, grabbed our gear, and loaded up.

Romeo was a small town, lazily sprawling across the Texas countryside. In late May, the wildflower season was winding down, but the hillsides were still peppered with a few patches of yellow, orange, blue, and purple, like a painting. I grew up around here, and I chose to stay after I became a firefighter, serving the community that had looked after me as a troublemaking hoodlum years ago. A firehouse in the big city would see more action and keep me busy, but nothing could compare to the brotherly bonds I’d developed at the station in Romeo.

In the distance, I spotted a thick cloud of smoke, rising into the air. It seemed this wouldn’t be a small fire.

As we rolled up to the house, flames poured through the roof and windows. A crowd of onlookers gathered in the street, phones held up to record the event. Lieutenant Hardy was on the ground and barking orders before the truck came to a full stop.

“Davies, you’re with Teagan. Stay on his hip at all times. When he gives a direct order, you obey without question. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Davies replied with a nod that made his helmet wobble.

“Conway, clear the street. Get these people away from the fire. We don’t need innocent bystanders injured by accident. Mueller and Anderson, hook up the hose and start dousing that fire before it spreads to any surrounding buildings. Move!”

I thumped Davies on the shoulder and hopped out of the truck.

“Time to search the house, rookie.”

Adjusting my mask over my face, I shoved the front door open and barrelled inside. Davies stumbled in after me. A wave of heat washed over us. Smoke darkened the entryway, punctuated by flickering firelight that made it nearly impossible to see anything.

“Fire department! Is anyone here?” I yelled over the roar of the flames.

I checked one room after another but found no signs of anyone. The house was empty—no furniture, electronics, beds, nothing.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said, gesturing for Davies to leave first. “Looks like it’s vacant. We’re clear.”

As I turned to go, I tripped over something metallic that clanged against my boot. I glanced down, straining my eyes through the smoke until I spotted the dented, rusty gas can. Snatching it up, I jogged out of the house.

“Lieutenant,” I called, holding up the gas can. “Found something.”

He gestured me over with a frown of concern.

“Arson?”

“Probably. There’s no one living in the house though.”

Lieutenant Hardy gestured to the real estate sign on the lawn.

“That’s because it’s for sale.”

I removed my mask, inhaling a deep breath of fresh, clean air.

“Probably some punk kid stirring up trouble,” I said.

Lieutenant Hardy shrugged.

“Could be squatters covering their tracks. Either way, it’s not our problem. I’ll call the police department and let them know. Get Davies on the hose with Mueller and Anderson to cool this fire down.”

“Yes, sir.”

An hour later, my gear felt like it weighed ten times heavier than it usually did. I stifled a yawn, scrubbing a hand through my hair. The bitter taste of smoke clogged my throat and coated my tongue. As the sun neared high noon, the heat of the day combined with the heat of the fire to create a sweltering temperature that felt like my skin was melting off my bones.

“I could use something cold to wash this soot out of my mouth,” Mueller muttered.

“Wouldn’t hurt if it was sweet, too,” Conway added.

Lieutenant Hardy rolled his eyes with a tired sigh.

“If you think you’re going to wheedle a round of sugar-loaded iced coffees out of me, I hate to disappoint you.”

“Come on, Lieutenant,” I cajoled. “Give the boys a treat after their hard work.”

He narrowed his eyes at me.

“You could share those cookies of yours.”

I clucked my tongue in dismay.

“Sorry, sir. Can’t do that. Those or ex-girlfriend cookies. I must protect them with my life.”

He snorted.

“I’m not a gambling man, but I’d bet an entire paycheck that you’ll be calling her up to reminisce about old times while the rest of us get to go home to cold, empty beds. Alone.”

I chuckled and arched an eyebrow.

“An entire paycheck, you say?”

Lieutenant Hardy shot me one of his trademark no-nonsense looks. Despite his stern demeanor, he was a lonely man underneath it all. Twice divorced, passed over for promotion to be captain on more than one occasion, and it seemed he’d become stagnant. I respected the hell out of him though, especially since he was so patient when we goaded him.

“Like I said, I’m not a gambling man,” he replied. “So, you’re not getting a single red cent out of me.”

“Some iced coffee for the boys sounds like a good compromise, doesn’t it?”

He grumbled under his breath and rubbed his temple. I was definitely getting to him.

“Fine,” Lieutenant Hardy relented. “We’ll stop on the way back to the station.”

Davies whooped and coiled the hose faster, stowing it away. Conway and Mueller whistled with victory as they hauled themselves into the truck.

Ten minutes later, we pulled up to Backdraft Brewhouse—the original firehouse built in Romeo when it was founded in the 1920s, now converted into a coffee shop. Faded maps covered the walls, along with pictures of the town throughout the years, and vintage firefighter memorabilia—helmets, axes, ladders, and badges. A giant chalkboard menu hung above the counter, written in crisp, blocky letters.

“Davies and Teagan, you’re up.”

Lieutenant Hardy flicked a folded piece of paper over his shoulder at us, slotted between two fingers.

“Hey,” I protested. “Why me? With seven years of seniority under my belt, I’ve earned more than errand boy status.”

“Exactly. That seniority will come in handy while you keep tabs on the rookie, show him the ropes,” Lieutenant Hardy replied. “Make sure he doesn’t mess up our orders like last time. I’m not drinking a rainbow fairy dust latte ever again. I was shitting glitter for a week.”

Mueller coughed a laugh into his fist.

Lieutenant Hardy shot me a triumphant look. I grumbled and snatched the paper from him. I just knew this was revenge for those damn cookies.

While Davies and I waited in line, a few customers in the shop turned to stare at us with our fireproof boots, turnout gear, and sooty faces. Using the hem of my uniform shirt, I attempted to scrub myself clean.

Then Davies let out a low whistle and jerked his chin toward the front of the line.

“You don’t see a woman like that in Romeo very often.”

My gaze followed the direction he’d indicated. At the counter was a woman who definitely stood out like a sore thumb with her expensive cream-colored pants suit and diamond bracelet. Her platinum blonde hair was tied back in a sleek ponytail—not a single flyaway in sight. She tapped her glossy manicured nails against the countertop with impatience.

You don’t see a woman like that in Romeo ever, I thought.

I hooked an arm around Davies’ shoulders.

“That woman would strip the marrow from your bones without batting an eye. Next to the definition of maneater in the dictionary is a picture of her.”

He paled.

“Don’t even think about it,” I added, shaking my head.

“I wasn’t—” Davies started.

But I didn’t hear him. I was already on the move, striding past the line. Just as the woman prepared to pay for her coffee, I stepped in.

“It’s on me,” I said with a smile. “Call it a welcome gift. You must be new to Romeo. I would have remembered running into someone as breathtaking as you around here.”

From the back of the line, Davies huffed and crossed his arms.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding,” he muttered.

The woman leveled a chilling stare on me with the most frigid ice-blue eyes I’d ever seen.

“I’m Seth Teagan,” I continued, extending my hand. “I work with the Romeo Fire Department.”

Her disdainful gaze flicked down to my open palm but she didn’t accept.

“And I don’t care,” she replied. “I can pay for my own coffee, thank you.”

With that, she swept her cup off the counter and walked out of the shop with her spine ramrod straight and her nose so high up in the air that I was surprised she didn’t trip over her own feet.

I blew out a breath, smiling to myself.

Damn. I think I’m in love.