Flirting With Fire (Charming Butte #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Meyer

R iding into Charming Butte on the back of a chestnut horse with my arms around a hot guy wasn’t the entrance I’d planned, but there were worse ways to return to my childhood home.

The Impala had started sputtering a mile outside of the town limits right by what used to be old man McKay’s farm. I pulled off the road as the dang car died.

“Daisy, just a few more miles,” I begged, but she stubbornly refused to start again.

I slammed the steering wheel with my right hand, cursing loudly at the pain that shot through my wrist. It had to be the one I fractured playing basketball last year. I needed to remember to treat my wrist with more respect, otherwise my new job as Assistant Chief of Charming Butte Firehouse was going to be a bust before I’d even started.

I popped the hood and got out of the car, rolling my shoulders and easing tired muscles after a long drive. Here’s hoping I could find the source of the problem, or I’d be walking the rest of the way into Charming Butte. My knowledge of car mechanics was limited. Give me a fire, and I was your man, but modern cars defeated me. I raised the black hood and studied it, surmising any quick fix on my part was impossible.

So much for surprising my mom. I’d planned to greet her with a smile, lunch from the Bobcat Stump coffee shop, and a, “Hey, Mom, guess what, I’m gonna be living here now.”

It was going to be a late lunch unless I started walking. It wasn’t far, five miles at the most, and thankfully, the temperature was only in the low eighties. Anything more, and I’d melt before I ever got to surprise my mom.

First job, no, second after surprising Mom, was getting Daisy towed into town. I couldn’t remember the name of the only auto shop in Charming, but Mom would know. She knew everyone. I slammed the hood down and reached into the Impala to get my pack, then locked the car. Good luck to anyone who attempted to steal it. My girl wasn’t going anywhere.

The road into Charming Butte was empty. I’d not seen anyone since I turned off the highway. The desert magic was working its charm again. I sucked in a lungful of the clean desert air, feeling the wind off the Butte whip through my hair, better than a shot of any caffeine.

Each time I returned to visit with my mom, I wondered why I ever left Charming Butte. From the deep colors of the desert to the quirky town and its inhabitants, I remembered how much I loved the place, and how desperate I’d been to leave it at eighteen. Then I would return to the hustle and bustle of city life, and the joy of small-town living would fade until the next time. But not this time. This time I was here to stay…I hoped.

I was almost grateful for the walk. It gave me time to clear my head and stretch my legs after the long journey.

“You mean work out a cover story so Mom doesn’t get annoyed with you,” I muttered.

She was either going to be annoyed or overwhelmingly sympathetic depending on which story I gave her. I wasn’t that keen on either option.

I heard a noise some distance behind me. It didn’t sound like a car. I looked over my shoulder to see a horse gently plodding toward me. The driver wasn’t pushing the horse, and I kept walking, waiting for it to catch up.

I saluted as the horse reached my side. “Mornin’,” I said cheerfully.

“Good morning.” The rider smiled in return, slowing his horse so they walked at the same pace as me. He looked to be about my age, which put him about thirty, with huge blue eyes and honey hair from the bangs that had escaped under the brim of his hat. He was handsome with the kind of stubble I loved on a man, especially grazing over my skin.

“Good looking horse,” I offered, tearing my eyes away and admiring the chestnut coat and the white blaze and socks.

He patted the horse’s neck. “Juniper is a beauty,” he agreed. “That your Impala a mile back?”

I nodded, telling myself to cool down before I freaked out the locals. “Yup. It died on me. Gonna find a tow truck when I reach town.”

“There’s only one. Smith’s on Orchard Lane.”

I frowned, searching my memory. “Wasn’t that Timsons?”

“You’ve been here before?”

“I grew up in Charming,” I said. “It’s been a while since I was back home.”

The rider furrowed his brow as he studied me. “I don’t remember you.”

“As I said, it’s been a while. Name’s Meyer Jones.”

The rider’s big baby blues opened comically wide. “Jones? Lindy Jones’ boy?”

Being called a boy always made me grit my teeth. I was taller than everyone for Chrissakes. And he was my age. “Well, not so much of the boy, but yes. Who are you?”

“What are you doing here?” the rider snapped, ignoring my question.

“Don’t know that’s any of your business, but as you asked so nicely, I’m visiting my mom.” I took satisfaction in seeing the guy pink at being called out.

“She never said you were coming.” He sounded almost accusatory.

“You know my mom? She discusses her business with you?”

The rider huffed, and the horse shifted restlessly as if sensing his tension. He soothed the horse absently and turned his attention back to me, who was wondering what I’d done to upset the pretty man.

“I know Lindy.”

“How?” I demanded. “How do you know my mother?”

Was this man taking advantage of her? She’d never mentioned being friends with a man half her age. It was a good thing I was back here to take care of her.

The guy caught the edge in my tone because his eyes widened. “Not like that. No! Never!”

I folded my arms across my chest and regarded him coolly. “Then I ask again. How do you know my mom?”

“I’ve done a few jobs for her around the house. Seeing as her son isn’t here to do them for her.”

The guy obviously recovered his composure from his biting tone. I was starting to regret I’d ever wished him good morning. Where was a car when I needed it?

We walked on for a few moments in strained silence, the horse quietly ambling beside me, its hooves clip-clopping on the road.

“Why didn’t you call your mom for a ride?” the man said suddenly.

I shrugged, my pack bouncing on my back. “It was meant to be a surprise. I didn’t tell her I was coming back to town.”

“For a visit?”

“For good. At least for now,” I amended. “I’ve gotten a job at Charming’s firehouse.”

I figured if the guy knew my mom, he’d know I was a fire officer. It’s not like she kept that secret. Photos of me in my uniform were all over the house. It was kind of embarrassing.

“You’ve got the assistant chief’s job?”

Did the guy know everything? I bit back a sigh. It was a small town, of course he did. “Yeah. I start Monday.”

“A bit of a comedown, isn’t it? Big city hero to small town firefighter?”

I stopped. The horse carried on a few more paces before the rider realized and reined him in.

I glared at the man. “I don’t know what your problem is or even who you are, but let’s get one thing straight. I’m damn proud of being a fire officer, and I don’t care where I work if I do my duty. Capiche?”

The man stared at me for a long time. He’d reddened, but I noticed he didn’t look away. Whoever he was he had balls to face me. With my height and demeanor, I knew I could be intimidating when I was angry. Finally, the man nodded.

“Do you want a ride?”

I blinked. “What?”

The man indicated behind me. “Do you want a ride to your mom’s? You’ve still got a few miles to go.”

I eyed the horse doubtfully. “That’s a kind offer, but I’m a big guy. Your horse doesn’t deserve the pain.”

The man laughed. “Juniper will be fine. Give me your pack.”

From the horse’s side eye, I wasn’t so sure, but whatever. I handed him my pack, swung up behind him, then wondered what to do with my hands.

“Wrap your arms around me,” the man suggested.

I sucked in a breath. I really didn’t want to lean up against a man who pushed all my buttons, even if he was an angry douchebag. But I had to hang on somewhere, so I wrapped my arms around his waist, and the horse moved off. Once I figured out the horse’s rolling rhythm, I found the movement quite hypnotic.

“You know horses?” he asked.

“Not since I left here,” I said. “Not much call for horses in Chicago.” I could smell the lemon-scented shampoo and leather, which was a weird combination and strangely alluring. I told my dick to pipe down. I didn’t need the other guy getting the wrong idea.

He chuckled. “I guess not.”

“Do you always ride?”

“I’ve got a truck for work and a mountain bike. I can’t stick a ladder on the horse.”

It was my turn to cackle, imagining the horse carrying a ladder.

“Not one car has passed us,” I said after a moment of comfortable silence between us. “I always forget just how quiet the town is. It amazes me every time I return. Then I go back to the city, and all the traffic seems normal.”

“I love it,” the guy murmured. “I feel like I can breathe here.”

I knew just how he felt, but I still loved the city. “Have you lived anywhere else?”

“No. But my sister lives in Denver. I visit her occasionally.”

He didn’t seem to need directions to my mom’s house, and neither did he want to talk, so I focused on looking around me, anything to distract my dick that was very happy pressed up against this stranger.

“My Uncle Mark lives in Denver, too. He’s a cop,” I said.

“I know.”

Of course he did. My mom loved her brother. I thought he was a bit of a dick, but we both loved Lindy Jones and respected each other for that.

As we ambled down the main street, I felt a sudden lump in my throat. I was back in Charming. I’d lived in Chicago for years but never lost my love for my hometown.

The guy waved at a couple of women gossiping on the sidewalk. They waved back, then blinked as they noticed me behind him.

“Meyer? Is that you?”

I groaned. I really didn’t want them to call Mom before I got home.

The guy answered before I could. “It is, Mrs. White. I picked him up outside of town, but it’s a surprise for Lindy.”

She chuckled. “Mum’s the word. Good to see you. Meyer.”

“Good to see you too, Mrs. White,” I called, waving at her.

“Do you remember her?” the guy murmured.

“Nope, not a clue,” I confessed. “Thanks for giving me her name. Who is she?”

“Mrs. White. Skip’s mom.”

“Skip?” I furrowed my brow. “Skip White? I don’t remember…. Oh wait, yes I do. He was the kid who got Ginny Isles pregnant. Small, weasely guy.”

I was rewarded with a chuckle. “Skip was nearly six feet tall when we were teenagers. Small and weasely is not how I’d describe him.”

“He was always smaller than me,” I said. “Is he still in town?”

“Yeah, he and Ginny married after they finished high school.”

“Shotgun wedding?”

“Yeah, but it seemed to work. They’re happy, you know? They have five kids now, two sets of twins. I think he’s going for a football team.”

I was glad for Skip and Ginny, although I couldn’t contemplate the idea of five kids. I wanted children in an abstract way, but if it didn’t happen, it wouldn’t be the end of my life. Mom had never pushed me on the fact, for which I was grateful. Some of my friends hadn’t been so lucky, their moms asking them all the time when they were going to make them grandparents.

“Have you got any kids?” I asked.

I couldn’t avoid feeling the tension flood through him. “I’m sorry, have I said something wrong?”

“No, it’s okay. I just forgot…you didn’t….” He took a deep breath. “You’ve just returned to town.”

It was a jumble of words, and I was still no clearer. But now we’d turned into my mom’s street, and my attention was distracted.

“It never changes,” I murmured.

“No,” the man agreed.

If I closed my eyes, I could be nine years old, racing home from soccer practice for dinner. Even the aromas wafting from the houses seemed to be the same.

I’d grown up on this street, in and out of the crazy mixture of houses, from one-story to two-story, brick built to adobe. Next month the houses would be decorated with pumpkins in between the pots of plants decorating the stoops and long strands of fake spider webs in anticipation of Halloween. Fast forward another month and every houses would be festooned in fairy lights and fake snow for Christmas. My dad used to warn all the neighbors about fire hazards, but he was just as crazy for decorations as every other dad in the street.

“It’s Halloween next month,” I said.

“What made you think of that?”

“Memories,” I admitted. “I don’t get trick-or-treaters where I live. It’s all converted lofts.”

“Not really a place for families.”

“Some families live there, but most are owned by single people who work downtown. I think families like a backyard when they have kids.”

Dex nodded. “Your mom will be ready. She always buys candy early.”

I grinned because Mom was notorious for purchasing candy weeks before kids stood on her doorstep giving her gummy grins and lisping, “Trick or treat!”

“You know her well.”

“I do.”

Before I could demand to know his name, Mom rushed out of the one-story, brick-built home that I grew up in, crying “Meyer. You didn’t tell me you were coming home.”

The horse stopped, not spooked by Lindy’s excited yelling, and I slid off its back to sweep her into my arms. “Hey, Mom!”

She was a tall, imposing woman, dressed in a pale blue blouse and gray pants with a wrap-around cardigan, nearly six feet tall in the furry slippers I’d given her two Christmas’ previously. Under no circumstances could Lindy Jones be called delicate, and I could give her a firm hug, burying my face in her pale brown hair, smelling her lemon-scented shampoo. The citrus scent reminded me of my rescuer, and I looked over her head to where he waited patiently, his face creased into a fond smile as he gazed at my mom.

She was focused on me, her hands fluttering before hugging me just as tightly. “Oh, baby, why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“It was a surprise,” I said. “I only found out last week.”

She raised her head. “Found out what?”

Before I could spring my news, my ride joined us on the sidewalk, holding my pack. He was about Mom’s height, maybe an inch taller, but substantially leaner than me. “Meet the new assistant chief of Charming Butte Firehouse.”

Her eyes popped out. “What?”

I glared at him. That had been my news to give, and I’d been planning to break the news gently over a cup of coffee, not standing on the sidewalk before I’d taken one foot over the threshold.

“Whoops, sorry.”

He didn’t sound apologetic. In fact, from his twinkling blue eyes and wide grin, the asshat was very amused.

Mom shook her head. “What’s going on here, boys? I’m got so many questions. Why are you here? Where’s your car? Why are you on the back of Dex’s horse?”

“My car broke down near the McKay farm. Dex was riding by and offered me a ride.”

I stopped as his name sunk into my brain. “Dex?” He smirked at me. “You’re Dex Chase?”

“Well, of course he is,” Mom said. “Didn’t you recognize him? Goodness, you lived in the same town for long enough.”

“No, no, I didn’t.”

I scowled at Dex, whose smirk grew broader.

“It was so kind of you to give Meyer a ride, Dex,” Mom gushed, seeming not to notice the tension between us.

“It was my pleasure,” Dex said, leaning forward to give her a kiss on the cheek. “I could hardly leave him stranded on his first day back in town.”

I gritted my teeth as they talked about me. They were clearly friends. For a moment, I felt like the outsider looking in. Except I was the outsider. I hadn’t been back more than a week or two at a time in ten years.

I studied Dex. Where was the scrawny kid I remembered, all lanky limbs and huge eyes? I hadn’t seen Dex since high school when he was a freshman and I was a senior, and the hat that covered half his face hadn’t helped. And the solid muscled body. He was all man now. My dick pricked up at the memory of being pressed against him.

“I’d better get Junie back to the stable,” Dex said. “I hadn’t planned to be out for so long.” He held out my pack. “This is yours.”

I’d almost forgotten about my bag. I blinked and then yanked it out of Dex’s hands. “Thanks,” I muttered, knowing from the scowl Mom was aiming my way that she was going to scold me for being ungracious.

From the grin Dex shot my way, he knew it too. He swung up on Junie’s back—the horse had been waiting patiently—and waved a lazy hand as he ambled off.

“Good to see you again, Meyer. Good luck with the new job,” he yelled over his shoulder.

“He’s such a nice boy,” Lindy sighed.

“Sure,” I grumbled.

Mom gave me her patented death stare that had cowed me every time as a child. “What’s gotten into you, Meyer Race Jones? Dex did you a favor. The least you could do is be grateful.”

I was being scolded by my mom with the glare and my full name, and I hadn’t been here five minutes. I needed to retrieve the situation. I slung an arm around her shoulder and guided her toward the front door.

“I am grateful, Mom. It’s just been a long drive, and breaking down was kinda like the final straw. Let’s go inside, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

From her expression she wasn’t convinced, but her curiosity won out as I knew it would.

She chatted away as we climbed the stoop, pointing out new flowers she’d planted during the summer. I smiled and admired them, and all the while my brain was still whirling.

Dex Chase. I’d just ridden into Charming with my arms wrapped around Dex Chase. My first crush.