From Nowhere (Wildfire #2)

Chapter Twenty-Seven Maren

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Maren

Monday morning, Ozzy calls on my way home from the gym. “Hey!” I can’t hide my enthusiasm.

“Good morning. I was going to text you, but seeing how my daughter manages to get into my phone, I thought a call would be better.”

“What were you going to text me that you don’t want Lola to see?”

He chuckles. “Nothing too inappropriate.”

“A shame,” I say.

Again, he laughs. “I wanted to say good morning but decided I needed to hear your voice too.”

“Mm, good morning. Are you not working?”

“I just got to work, and I’m finishing my coffee before clocking in.”

“Did Lola have a good time with your mom? And did she love her purple room?”

“Yes. And yes.”

“That’s good. Listen, I’ve been invited to a party. Fitz’s smoke jumper buddy and his wife throw all the best parties. If I don’t get called out of town this weekend, what are the chances of you being my plus-one on Saturday night?”

“I might be able to make something up.”

Sneaking around was fun for a while. But now that my heart is invested, it’s not as fun being Ozzy’s dirty little secret. “Would Tia and Amos really have a major problem with you going to a party with me?”

“Yes. No.” He sighs. “I don’t know. Maybe. Probably. I don’t know, but based on my experience, Tia will balk at anything involving me having fun with a woman who is not Brynn. She’s just so angry.”

I pull into my driveway and flip up the visor, staring at the back of Will’s Bronco.

“Maren?” Ozzy says, breaking the silence.

“I wasn’t going to get invested. That’s my thing. I keep things casual. And you wanted to take things slow, so of course I was good with that. But, dammit!” I run my fingers through my hair. “I like Lola. I like you. And I like what we did over the weekend. I like it all so much that I’ve bought a house. And I don’t need a house. Except I sort of do now, because I have a cat. And the only reason I have a cat is because of Lola. And now that I’m working, I see you less and less. And that’s fine because I love my job, and I’m not the woman who clings to a man. Except I sort of do now, because I met this mechanic who has taken up permanent residence in my head, so much so that I bought a house so we could be alone together without sneaking in and out of windows.”

I laugh at myself because it is ridiculous. “Ozzy, I bought a house for a cat and sex.”

Again, we hold the line without speaking for eternal seconds.

“Message me the time and address of the party. I’ll be there if you’re there,” he says.

I open my mouth to protest. That’s what people do; they beg for something and then backtrack when it’s offered to them. Mind games are the demise of many relationships. There’s still so much more I want to say, but I’ll take the win without throwing it back in his face like it no longer matters because I had to ask for it.

“Okay,” I say.

More silence—the awkward kind.

“I have to work. I’ll call you later,” he says.

“Yeah. That’s fine. Bye.”

We talk every day until Saturday, but Ozzy doesn’t share his game plan for attending the party. I’m not sure he has one, but he said he’d be here. As I stare out the window of Gary and Evette’s front room, my tummy feels wonky with anticipation.

“He’s probably having trouble finding a parking spot,” Fitz says from behind me.

I don’t turn toward him. It’s not funny, but for some reason I laugh. “I fly planes, and you jump out of them. Can you imagine going only as far as your bike can take you?”

He hums. “I’m not the one to ask. I’ve recently discovered how love can make you do just about anything.”

I turn and smirk. “The world’s least emotionally available bachelor is getting married and reversing his vasectomy.” I sip my wine, and he chuckles.

Then he nods toward the window. “Looks like he found a spot.”

I turn just as Ozzy secures his bike to a tree.

“Does he think someone is going to take his bike?” Fitz asks.

“If someone did, he’d be screwed.” I hand Fitz my empty wineglass and head toward the front door.

Ozzy glances up just as I descend the porch steps. “Are you sure you want me to meet your friends? I have helmet head.”

I giggle, moseying toward him until I can throw my arms around his neck. “I love your hair.” I lift onto my toes and kiss him while combing my fingers through his thick hair.

As I start to fall back to my feet, he palms my face and kisses me again, but this time with an open mouth. If we were alone, we’d already be half-naked.

“Remind me when you’re closing on your sex house,” he murmurs over my lips, brushing his nose against mine.

I laugh. “Soon.” I take his hand and lead him to the house. “Did you sneak or lie to come here tonight?”

He chuckles. “Let’s call it a sneaky lie.”

“I hate this.” Before opening the front door, I turn toward him. “Being your dirty little secret isn’t as much fun as I thought it would be.”

“I didn’t know you were planning on being dirty tonight.” He waggles his eyebrows.

“I wasn’t. Then I invited you, so there’s no telling what could happen.”

He holds his grin for a few seconds before it deflates. “If I tell Tia and Amos, I’ll be fully accountable. And if they’re fine with us by some chance, then life is great. But if they are not, I could feel forced to make a choice I don’t want to make.” He shrugs.

“And you need them to live with you.”

He nods slowly. “It’s not that I can’t find someone to watch Lola after school. My aunt Ruth, who lives with my mom, would pick her up from school and watch her, but Lola won’t get into a car. I don’t know who would ride their bike or walk to Lola’s school every day to escort her home, even in the winter, except Tia and Amos. They do it.”

I search for a solution like a fly trying to escape from the inside of a car, but I don’t have one. “Let’s eat and drink.” Taking Ozzy’s hand again, I lead him into the house and toward the bar, where Evette’s mixing drinks.

“Wine for you, Maren?” she asks, but she widens her eyes when she notices Ozzy. “Sexy mechanic!” she exclaims, quickly cupping a hand over her mouth. “Shit. I said that. I have to stop drinking.”

Ozzy shifts his wide-eyed gaze between me and Evette.

“I take it Jamie told you about my friend Ozzy?”

Evette pours my wine, cheeks flushed while she shakes her head. “I’m, uh, Lola’s math and science teacher.” She risks another peek at Ozzy.

He points a finger at her. “I thought you looked familiar.”

She hands me the wine. “I’m so embarrassed. But you have a reputation at the school. People talk. They shouldn’t, but they do. And I can’t believe I yelled that aloud. I need to mix more and drink less. What can I get you?”

Ozzy glances at me. “I’m used to kegs and red SOLO cups. This is impressive.”

“Evette’s a mixologist when she’s not dementing—I mean teaching the next generation. The parties here are top notch.”

Ozzy laughs. “Well, I’m easy to please. Any beer works.”

“This is a local IPA. Gary’s favorite.” Evette twists off the top and hands him the beer. “And fair warning, some other teachers here will recognize you, stare, drool, and possibly embarrass themselves even worse than I have, so please don’t judge us. When we’re on the clock, we’re all business.”

I try to hide my grin, but I can’t.

Ozzy eyes me with a lifted brow. “Did you know about this?”

I shake my head as we step away from the bar to let other people get drinks. “No. But I’m not disappointed, unless you start flirting with Evette’s hungry-eyed friends.”

He swigs his beer before smiling and glancing around the room. I follow his gaze, and sure enough, a group of Evette’s teacher friends are huddled in a circle, gawking at Ozzy.

“Stiff competition for me tonight,” I say.

“You should be worried. If you think they’re hot for me now, wait until they see my sexy ride chained to the tree outside.”

I snort, pressing my fist to my mouth. “I fear that only makes you sexier in their eyes. Single dad who escorts his daughter to school every day on a bike because she suffered an unimaginable trauma. You are their Everest of men.”

“Who cares? The question is, am I your Everest?”

“If I’m your dirty little secret, you can be my Everest.”

“We meet again,” Jamie says to Ozzy while wrapping an arm around me.

“Hi. Yeah. This is quite the party. And a very cool house.”

“Right?” Jamie draws out the word while releasing me.

The two-story Queen Anne–style house has small rooms and tall ceilings. It’s filled with embellishments like elaborate dark woodwork, embossed botanical wallpaper in muted green-and-gold tones, and colorful stained glass windows. My favorite thing is the burgundy velvet drapes that Gary hates.

“Did you hear Fitz and I gave Maren the house with the tree house for her cat?” Jamie asks.

Ozzy nods with a slow hum. “Bandit is pretty spoiled, and so is my daughter for having her stray cat saved.”

Jamie bats her eyelashes at me with an exaggerated smile. “I’d say Maren is pretty smitten with you and your daughter, but that might embarrass her, so I won’t say it.”

I roll my eyes. “Go find Fitz before you accidentally embarrass me any more.”

Jamie giggles and offers us a wiggly-fingered wave while floating into the crowd, searching for Fitz.

“Are you smitten with me?” Ozzy asks, cocking his head to the side.

I’m in love with you.

“I’m shook. You’ve shooketh me. I love my job, but I’m dreading more inevitable trips out of town and not seeing you. I’m”—I shake my head and twist my lips—“not smitten. It’s more of an addiction. What about you? How are you doing? I bet you’re not even fazed, not one bit. I’m sure time flies in your busy life. You have Lola and her grandparents to keep your mind in the moment. And your mom. Your job. Gardening. Fixing people’s cars on the side. There’s no way you miss me when I’m gone.”

Ozzy narrows his eyes and slowly wets his lips before rubbing them together. “Are you done?”

I clear my throat and nod once before sipping my wine.

He surveys the room, grabs my arm, and leads me to a less congested corner by the split staircase. “I go out of my fucking mind when you’re out of town. If anything happens to you, I have nothing more than a bicycle to get to you. And I hate that you work in a male-dominated field, and you could close your eyes and randomly point to anyone else in any room who’s more equipped for dating you than I am.”

My heart doesn’t know what to do. The butterflies in my belly devour his words like sweet nectar while my heart stumbles into an uneven rhythm because he feels inadequate.

I step closer, dragging my teeth along my lower lip several times before speaking. “Listen when I say, at the risk of sounding like I sleep around a lot—which I don’t, but I’m in my thirties, so cut me some slack—you are very well equipped to date me and do plenty of other things to me.”

The pain along his handsome face intensifies. “See, that’s not helpful because this isn’t my house or yours. And I have a bike with no back seat. And it’s been almost a week since I’ve been alone with you—”

I slide my hand to the back of his neck, lift onto my toes, and press my lips to his. He tastes like beer and smells woodsy. And I quickly melt into the familiarity of his body touching mine. It’s all a heady combination. “ I have a car with a back seat,” I murmur over his mouth.

“I just got here. Don’t you think we should mingle or dance before we disappear?”

“Nobody’s dancing.” I laugh, releasing his neck.

Ozzy hooks his free hand around my waist, keeping me close to him. “Well, we need to rectify that.” He moves his hips, swaying our bodies to Divinyls’ “I Touch Myself.”

He mouths the words to me, and I break into a fit of giggles. And of course, I can’t help but wonder if he does think about me and touch himself.

“You’re blushing,” he says, ducking his head until his lips brush my ear. “I fucking love watching you touch yourself.”

Now I’m having flashbacks of our weekend together, and my blush works its way across every inch of my skin. The wine doesn’t help.

We dance in our little corner of the room. I turn so my back is to him, and he rests his big hand along my stomach, pulling me to him again. Closing my eyes, I lean my head against him and let him dance, sway, and seduce me to a four-minute song. When it ends, I finish my wine and welcome the buzz. I’ll be catching a ride home with Jamie and Fitz.

“Okay, let’s get out of here,” Ozzy says, adjusting himself as I turn toward him.

“Come, you two. Badminton in the backyard. Gary just got the lights to work,” Jamie says as Fitz pulls her toward the back door.

I wrinkle my nose at Ozzy. “Let’s grab some food, play a game or two, then we can sneak out. Okay?”

Biting his lips together, eyes wide, he relinquishes a slow nod that’s not overly enthusiastic.

“I’m worth the wait.” I wink, taking his hand.

“I’m well aware, but it doesn’t make the wait any easier.”

I like his impatient, slightly grumpy side—my brooding guy.

“More wine?” Evette follows us outside with a bottle of red in her hand.

“I’m going to need a ride home,” I say with a fake frown while holding out my empty glass for a refill.

“Can I get you another beer?” she asks Ozzy.

“I’m good. I can’t get a ride home.”

My grin dies, but he shakes off my reaction with a quick mumbled “Don’t” and drops a kiss on my lips. “Never feel sorry for me,” he whispers with his mouth brushing mine several times.

“I don’t. You’re getting laid in the back seat of a RAV4 in approximately forty-five minutes.”

He chuckles. “Have you set a timer?”

“Yes. When you hear my phone chime, send your dick the memo to get ready.”

Ozzy barks a laugh, tipping his head back. “Baby, I’m always ready for you.” He rests his hand on my lower back and guides me down the deck stairs toward the yard, lit with string lights and lined with lawn chairs, with music flowing from several portable speakers synced to Hozier’s “From Eden.”

Forty-five minutes turns into two hours.

One last glass of wine turns into two. Four glasses are two past my limit. We lose badminton to three different couples—entirely my fault. My vision is too impaired to connect my racket to that stupid little birdie. Every miss triggers a fit of giggles.

“That was terrible, babe,” Ozzy says, playfully swatting my ass with his racket after we lose for the last time.

Babe.

I’ve never had this. I’ve never been anyone’s babe or baby. If I’m honest, I’ve never been in love, not like this.

While Jamie, Fitz, and a group of couples head toward the basement to play pool, I pull Ozzy around the side of the house to the front yard, trying to remember where I parked.

“Can you walk?” He laughs, grabbing my waist when I trip over a slightly uneven spot on the sidewalk.

I turn toward him, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him. My head spins. It’s a great buzz. And he tastes so good. He feels even better than he tastes.

“Whoa ...” He stops my hands from unzipping his jeans. “Let’s find your RAV first.”

“I want you,” I murmur, kissing his neck and gripping his shirt to keep from losing my balance. “I want to taste you.”

He groans, holding my face while rapidly scanning the area. “Some of Lola’s teachers are still in the house. I can’t have them witnessing this.”

I giggle. “I don’t think they would tell her.”

He closes his eyes and shakes his head.

I sigh. “I love you.”

There is nothing more sobering than a leaked declaration of love. Maybe he didn’t hear me. I didn’t mean it. Well, I did, but I didn’t mean to say it now, or ever, for that matter. He’s not some random guy. My heart is invested in him. I’ve told my parents about him. And maybe we haven’t known each other long enough, but when you know, you know.

Ozzy’s hands fall from my face like two bricks tossed out a second-story window. He parts his lips, but no words escape while he slowly blinks.

I swallow hard and squint. “I meant I love your humor.”

Ozzy’s expression intensifies. “I wasn’t being funny.”

I run my hands through my hair. “I’m drunk.”

“Maren—”

“It’s ... it’s nothing.” I turn, taking a few steps away from him, trying to remember where I parked. “I love Jamie, Fitz, and Will. I even love my cat. Sunny days. Hiking. Carrot cake.” I continue down the sidewalk as if I know where I’m going. “I love lots of things. It’s such an arbitrary word. Don’t you agree?”

After digging my key fob from my mini crossbody sling, I push the unlock button until my RAV beeps in the opposite direction. Spinning on my toes to follow the sound, I run into Ozzy. He grabs my arms to steady me without letting go, so I stare at his chest.

“It doesn’t feel fair to love you,” he says.

Given the wine I’ve had tonight, sweeping me off my feet should be easy, but that’s not the right line. It doesn’t feel fair to whom? Him? Me? Brynn? The universe?

“Whoa.” I laugh. “You’re blowing this way out of proportion. I loved you for fetching me toilet paper and a pad the day we met. I love these shoes.” I kick a foot back. “I love a good bottle of merlot. But merlot isn’t jealous of my shoes.” I hold up my hands and pull away from his hold on me. “Don’t read into anything. Please. ” I brush past him toward my RAV. I sigh when I get there and grab the door handle to the driver’s side. “I’m not driving home,” I mumble.

My declaration of love has ruined the moment. This is supposed to be my subtle exit. But I need a driver, and it won’t be him.

“Are we not getting into the back seat?” he asks, standing behind me.

I close my eyes and blow out a long breath. “I said the wrong thing because I’m not completely sober. Now I feel agitated that my thoughts are jumbled, and you’re thinking that I meant something that I didn’t, and—”

“Maren.”

“It’s late anyway. You should head home—”

“Maren.”

“Because it’s getting late. And—”

“ Maren !”

I startle and turn toward him, arms crossed over my chest. “What?”

“I said it didn’t feel fair to love you. I didn’t say that I don’t love you.”

Goddammit!

I’m not drunk enough—not numb enough.

Ozzy grins, brushing his knuckles along my cheek before tucking my hair behind my ear. “I didn’t say it first, but I fell first.”

Leaning into his touch, I whisper, “I didn’t think you were going to sweep me off my feet tonight.” I giggle because my mind is still swimming in merlot. “I was wrong.”

Before I open my eyes, he kisses me.

Maybe it’s not fair for him to love me. But nothing about my life has been fair.

So we climb into the back seat.

Love doesn’t need anything more than a chance.