From Nowhere (Wildfire #2)

Chapter Thirteen

Ozzy: You’re a good kisser

I feel like a giddy kid as I text Maren from the waiting room while Lola has her therapy session.

Maren: I know

Ozzy: Apparently you’re confident too

Maren: What are you doing?

Ozzy: Waiting for Lola to finish her therapy session

Maren: I thought men liked confident women

Ozzy: I don’t speak for all men. I like real women

Maren: My boobs are real

I softly laugh.

Ozzy: But is your confidence? Is it genuine?

Maren: Depends on the day

Ozzy: That’s the right answer

Maren: How so?

Ozzy: Confidence is a state of being

Maren: That’s deep. Are you in therapy too?

Ozzy: I married a deep woman who made me a little less shallow

Maren: Haha I love that

Maren: Am I allowed to talk to Lola about Bandit?

Ozzy: Not sure yet. I’m waiting to see her reaction to accidentally running into you again

Maren: Reaction?

Ozzy: I need to know if she can be cool about it or if she’s going to embarrass me by asking you personal questions

Maren: She can ask me anything

Ozzy: Don’t say that

Maren: Ozzy?

Ozzy: Yes?

Maren: You’re a good kisser too

Ozzy: I know

When a young couple comes into the office, I slide my phone into my jacket pocket. A few minutes later, Lola emerges.

“I’m starving,” she says while rubbing her tummy.

“Shocking.” I smile, helping her thread her arms through her backpack before we head outside.

It’s a fifteen-minute ride to Build a Bowl. Before I can lock up our bikes, Lola runs inside, leaving both locks and our helmets with me. When I get everything situated and reach the door, Lola’s found Maren at a tall table in the corner.

“Dad! Look who’s here.”

I smile and nod toward the register. “I assume my daughter ordered for us,” I say to the employee behind the counter while retrieving my wallet.

“She did, and the woman over there already paid.”

Lola waves me toward the table, where Maren’s back is to me.

“What a pleasant surprise,” I say. “Here.” I lay cash on the table by her water glass.

Maren glances at me while sliding the cash toward me. “The surprise is mine. And I’ll pay top dollar for good company.” She winks at Lola, who’s kneeling on the wooden stool.

“Put your butt on the chair before you fall over, goofy,” I say to Lola. She frowns before following my order.

I sit next to Maren because it’s conveniently the closest stool.

“Thank you. Now I owe you.” I pocket the cash.

“Lola said she’s been at her talk doc .”

I chuckle, angling my body toward Maren until our legs touch like the other night at the bar. Her glossed lips twitch with the recognition that, even now, we’re sneaking around. “Yes. Victoria is her talk doc .”

“Maren,” the guy behind the counter calls out.

“I’ve got it.” I get our bowls and set them on the table.

“Thank you for not asking me about my scars,” Lola says, giving Maren a shy smile that rips at my chest. My mom told her to say that to anyone she liked because people feel at ease when the obvious is out in the open.

The good news: Lola likes Maren.

The bad news: Maren has tears in her eyes.

Maren swallows hard and nods, averting her gaze to her rice, veggie, and steak bowl.

Lola smiles at me, proud of herself for—in her mind—making a friend. I have a warm, fuzzy feeling for five seconds before Lola goes too far.

“Are you married?” she asks.

Maren shakes her head, chewing slowly.

“Do you like my dad?”

“Lola—”

“I do like your dad.”

My thoughts go up in smoke. I’ve lost control of this conversation. I’m the third wheel.

Lola lights up. I haven’t seen her look this happy in a long time. Her wide, unblinking eyes jump to mine.

“You should come to our house and meet my nana and pa.”

This girl has no clue what a terrible idea that is. I wait for Maren to squirm in her seat or stutter a nervous reply.

“You should come to my house to meet my cat,” Maren says.

Yep. It’s like I’m not even here. Neither one of them gives a single shit about what I want.

“Yes! Dad, can we go after dinner?”

I shake my head. “The sun’s setting, and it’s too far for you to ride in the dark.”

Lola deflates.

“What if you come tomorrow?” Maren suggests.

“We’d love to,” Lola says. I roll my eyes at her, speaking for us like I have no say. “What kind of cat do you have?”

“I’m not sure. It was a stray cat,” Maren says.

Lola’s lower lip makes its debut. “My dad killed that kitten on the trail.”

“I did not.”

“You abandoned it. What do you think happened to it? Even Dakota said he probably died.”

“I think you and Dakota should take a break from talking to each other.”

Lola ignores me. “What’s your cat’s name?”

“Bandit.”

“I like that name. I was going to name my kitten Mouse because Dakota has a fish named Shark. But now the kitten’s dead, so it doesn’t matter.”

Jesus Christ . . .

“Mouse is a great name,” Maren says. “Had I thought of it, I would have named my cat Mouse. But he’s already used to his name, so I’d better keep it as Bandit.”

“His middle name could be Mouse. What’s your last name?” Lola asks.

“Bernabe.”

“Bandit Mouse Bernabe.” Lola shoves food into her mouth, then snorts, spitting a little into the bowl.

I shake my head.

“I ...” Lola giggles. “I like that name.”

“Then that’s settled. Bandit’s middle name is Mouse.” Maren gives Lola a resolute nod.

I think Lola might explode with excitement. She’s gripping her fork so hard that her hand is shaking. All this over a middle name. She’s going to lose herself when she sees Bandit.

“I have to use the bathroom.” Lola hops off the stool. This seems right since she looked ready to wet herself with excitement upon hearing the kitten news.

“Let me check it.” I follow her to the single-stall bathroom for a quick peek. “Don’t forget to lock the door.” I close it behind me and return to the table, where I can still see the door.

Maren starts to say something, but I grab her face and kiss her because I need to kiss her.

My daughter already adores her, which makes me like her more than I did Saturday night, which was a hell of a lot.

I smile, releasing her face and sitting on my stool.

She rubs her lips together. “You’re killing me, Ozzy.”

“How so?” I start eating my food again.

“You’re a slow burn.”

“In your line of work, isn’t a slow burn a good thing?”

“Yes, but I don’t fuel the fire. You ...” She stirs her water with the straw.

“I what?”

“Nothing.” Her cheeks redden.

“That look isn’t nothing.”

Maren’s gaze focuses in the direction of the restroom. “You made sure no one was hiding in the restroom.”

“I did.”

She slowly nods, shifting her attention to me. “You’re fueling my fire,” she whispers. “Every text. Every word. Every glance. Every touch.”

“Should I do something to extinguish you?” I smirk.

Again, she watches for Lola. “You should burn with me.”

Fuck me . . .

My mind reels, plotting, planning, desperately searching for a solution. I have to take Lola home and wait for her to go to bed. Then I can ride my bike to Maren’s. That’s another twenty-five minutes. Will her roommates be there?

Then it hits me. This is what she’s talking about. Right now, this desperate need to touch, kiss, and feel every inch of her is burning with her.

Misery loves company.

“Do you have hand sanitizer, Dad? The bathroom was out of soap,” Lola announces, returning to the table.

I shake my head. “Sorry, it’s in my backpack, but I didn’t bring it.”

“I’ve got you.” Maren digs a small bottle from her purse and sprays it in Lola’s cupped hands.

I was all talk at work with Ira because I don’t like borrowing trouble. But she wasn’t wrong. Maren has a high-risk job. Is it fair to bring someone into Lola’s life who could be ripped away from her like Brynn was? Could my heart handle falling for another woman only to lose her?

“Are you a mechanic like my dad?”

“No. I’m a pilot—a firefighter. I help control wildfires by dumping a special retardant onto them from a plane. Your dad keeps my plane in tip-top shape.” Maren winks at me.

I so badly want to kiss her again.

“That’s a cool job.”

Maren nods. “It is.”

“Is it scary?”

“I’d say it’s more exciting than scary. I get to feel like a bird in the sky.”

“Have you ever crashed?” Lola asks.

Jesus.

“I have not.” Maren doesn’t miss a beat.

Lola picks at her food, her face tense, like she’s formulating her next question.

“Why don’t you finish up, Lola? We need to get you home. Tomorrow is a school day.”

“I am. I am. I am. Besides, it’s almost summer break.”

Maren snickers, wiping her mouth, and I rest my hand on her leg, knowing that Lola can’t see it. She slides her hand over mine, interlacing our fingers and moving my hand a few inches higher and toward her inner thigh.

I clear my throat, adjusting in my seat because I’m getting an erection. It’s been a long time since I’ve had this sort of intimate contact with a woman.

My old friend has impeccable timing—three feet from my daughter, minutes before I have to climb onto a bicycle and ride home.

“I’m full,” Lola says, prompting Maren to release my hand.

I gulp down the rest of my water and think about Tia’s permanent scowl, roadkill, and the stench of vomit, just a few things that make my dick go limp.

“Thanks for dinner,” Lola says, hopping off her stool.

I stand, eyeing her until she smirks. My ten-year-old thanked Maren for dinner without a fatherly “What do you say?” prompt.

It’s a modern-day miracle. Is my little girl all grown up? Did Amos’s late-night porn and Dakota’s nosy opinions catapult her into adulthood? God, I hope not.

It has to be Maren; she must bring out the best version of Lola.

“What do you say, Dad?”

Damn! Now she’s making me look bad.

I chuckle. “Sorry, your sudden mastery of manners has left me speechless. Thank you, Maren. I’m so glad we happened to be eating at the same place tonight.”

Maren threads one arm into her thin pink hoodie, and I hold it so she can easily thread the other arm. That’s when I notice Lola eyeing my every move with a huge grin.

“Thank you,” Maren murmurs, eyes flitting between Lola and me like she’s a little nervous.

Lola leads the way to the door, and I nod for Maren to follow her so I can discreetly rest my hand on her lower back.

So her breath hitches.

So my pulse quickens.

So my fucking erection tries to return.

I remove my hand when we reach the door, just as Lola skips toward our bikes by the lamppost.

As soon as we’re outside, I step in front of Maren, keeping Lola at my back. “My head is messed up,” I say, hushed. “I’m ten feet from my daughter, yet I’m having very detailed thoughts about you.”

Maren’s gaze finds my mouth. And since God likes to torture me, she wets her lips. “I need to know more about your detailed thoughts.”

Humans are pretty because our minds are so filthy.

Amos is a perv for watching porn, but over the past twenty-four hours, I’ve painted a naked picture of Maren in my mind that no one else can see, and therefore, I’m a perfect gentleman.

Right?

I’ve imagined the shape and texture of her nipples against my tongue; her warm, minty breath quickening over my mouth while my middle fingers slide between her legs; and the slow moan vibrating her chest when I fill her.

“Where are you?” Maren asks, bringing everything back into focus.

With a soft chuckle and a headshake, I glance back at Lola, who has our bikes unlocked. “Uh, I was just thinking about how I missed church last week. I need to do better.”

“Church?” Maren lifts her brow a fraction.

“Yes.” I clear my throat. “Only pure thoughts.”

She returns a slow, suspicious nod before stepping closer and whispering, “I’m going home to take a bath and do things I don’t think Jesus would do. Lord, I’m so sorry.” She brushes past me, hand grazing mine. “Good night, Lola. See you tomorrow.”

By the time we get home, I have a text from her.

Maren: Omg. When did you put this note in my purse?!

I pulled the note from my pocket and slipped it into her purse when we exited the restaurant. Since flowers would have sent Lola into a tizzy, I had to sketch six flowers on the note.

Bitterroot is Montana’s state flower. I couldn’t harvest any because you need permission from a Native American elder. Hope you love them!

Ozzy x