When We Burn (The Blackwells of Montana #1)

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

DANI

T he first week of school went off without too many hitches. There are always going to be a few minor obstacles to hurdle, especially early on in the year. These kiddos are new to all-day school, so some will get homesick, some will get tired and throw mini tantrums, and some even have accidents.

Poor Jacob had a rough week, but I have a whole bin of clean clothes for him, just in case. I think he’s simply nervous.

I also keep a cabinet full of healthy snacks and even nonperishable meals for those kids who might need extra calories or aren’t getting enough food at home.

I was once that kid. I don’t want any of my students to feel they are unable to participate in class simply because they’re hungry. That’s something I can help with.

I’ve just finished organizing the fresh snacks and meals that I bought on my way home from school. It’s Friday evening, and I know without a doubt that once I’m home for the weekend, I’m not going to want to go far.

Exhaustion has set in, but that’s okay. It means that I’m spending my days with about twenty excited, energetic five-year-olds, and there’s nothing else I’d rather do.

My front porch is in the shade, and it’s been a particularly hot late-summer day, so I step out and sit in the simple Ikea chair I bought for myself and breathe in the fresh air. Putting my bare feet up on the ottoman in front of me, I scoot down so I can lean my head back against the cushion and get cozy. There’s a light breeze blowing through that feels great after being inside most of the week.

I have so many projects to do around the house over the next couple of days. I knew when I rented this house that it was a total fixer-upper. The original owners had passed away, and their kids don’t live here anymore and wanted to rent it out. I got it for a steal, and in exchange for the cheap rent, I’m doing some minor cosmetic surgery on the place. Mostly just some paint here and there or replace a light fixture or two.

That sort of thing.

My brother threw a fit when he saw the inside of this place. But it’s clean, it’s cheap, and I can make it look great with some elbow grease.

And I’ll get to it, as soon as I’m finished enjoying my porch.

Meow.

My eyes pop open, and I listen, and then suddenly, there’s a calico cat on my lap, staring at me with wide, gold eyes.

Meow.

“Hey there. Who do you belong to?” I tentatively hold my hand out, and she leans into my touch, rubbing her cheek against my fingers. Her motor immediately kicks into gear, and she’s a tiny purring machine. “You’re sweet. You’re a baby, aren’t you?”

I don’t know much about pets. By the time I was thirteen, Holden made Dad stop bringing home animals that weren’t either horses or cattle, and my sisters and I were so grateful. Not that we ever said that out loud. After all these years, I can still hear Charlie’s and Alex’s cries after what he did to a tiny kitten. My sobs into Holden’s chest as my dad laughed with glee at our torment. Why did he torture those poor animals ? How did he become so ...barbaric? It was horrible. Okay, that’s an understatement.

So, I’ve never really taken care of a pet before. Not that I’m about to start now.

“You should go on home,” I inform her, but she just turns in a circle and begins to wash her paw. “You’re going to take a bath on me? Really?”

A minute later, Bridger and Birdie get home.

“I have to use the bathroom,” Birdie announces loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear after she climbs out of the truck, slams the door, and runs inside the house .

Bridger, on the other hand, looks over at me, then proceeds to walk my way.

He’s in jeans and a tight white T-shirt that molds over his broad shoulders and bulky biceps in the best way ever, and the short sleeves show off his tattoos. He has sleeves on both arms, colorful and sexy as all get-out. He’s lean of hip, with a flat stomach, that razor-sharp jawline, and lips that a girl could probably lose herself in.

I mean, I would assume.

“Hey,” he says with a crooked smile as he approaches, and then his eyebrows climb when he sees the cat. “New friend?”

“Help me,” I whisper loudly. “She just jumped up here, and I don’t know what to do.”

His eyes soften as he approaches, squats next to us, and runs his hand down the back of the cat, making her purr even louder.

And who can blame her? I’d purr, too, if his hands were on me.

“You could try petting her,” he says.

“She has to go home.”

He frowns down at the cat. “She’s really young. Probably just a couple of months old. Might be a stray.”

“She can’t stay here. You take her.”

Bridger drags the backs of his knuckles over my cheek, and I want to melt right into his touch. “I can’t. Besides, she really likes you. Looks like she’s claimed you as her human.”

I feel my eyes go wide as panic sets in. “I can’t.” I swallow hard and stare down at the cat. “I can’t keep this kitten. I don’t even want to touch it.”

“She isn’t a snake or a spider. It’s just a kitten, sweetheart.”

He chuckles, but this isn’t funny.

“Bridger. I can’t—I don’t know how—” I shake my head, and then he blinks as though it dawns on him as to why I’m freaking out.

“Whoa. Okay, I get it. I’m sorry, Dani. She’s just a kitten. A baby. It doesn’t look to me like anyone’s missing her. She’s pretty skinny, sort of dirty, but no fleas or anything like that.”

I swallow hard, and the kitten looks up at me and blinks, as if she’s totally content here in my lap.

“Hi,” I whisper to her.

Meow.

“She likes you,” Bridger says with a soft voice. “Of course, what’s not to like?”

“Duh,” I reply, without taking my eyes off the cat.

“Daddy!”

“Let me grab Birdie,” he says, disappearing from our side. I lift my gaze enough to see him run across the street, take Birdie by the hand, and guide her over to my house. “Dani found a kitten.”

“Oh, she’s so cute,” Birdie says, approaching carefully. She reaches up and gently strokes the cat’s back, letting out a sweet, tinkly laugh. “So soft. Are you keeping her? What’s her name?”

“I…” I shake my head, but then the darn cat lies down on her back, exposing her belly, still purring, and pr oceeds to reach for my chin with her tiny front paws. “Oh, darn. It looks like I’m keeping her.”

I hear Bridger chuckle, and Birdie jumps in excitement.

“But I don’t have anything for her.”

“We can go together to get supplies,” Bridger offers. “While we’re gone, just put her in the bathroom, in case she has an accident.”

He lifts the kitten off my lap, and I exhale in relief. Then, an hour later, we’re back with a cat box, litter, bowls, food, and toys. I even bought the cutest bed for her to sleep in, and Bridger bought her a tree thing for her to climb on and look outside from.

“What’s all that?” Bridger gestures to the totes full of food that I have on my dining room table as Birdie plays with the kitten.

“Oh, that’s the snacks and meals that I keep on hand for the kids at school.”

I fill the water and food bowls and set them on a mat in the kitchen, then pour litter into the pan and show the kitten where that is in the mud room.

She uses it right away, and I’m convinced that she’s the smartest cat in the world. And I’m still terrified about keeping her. What if I don’t know what to do and accidentally hurt her?

When I turn back to smile at Bridger, he’s watching me with a frown. “What? What did I do?”

“Why do you keep snacks and meals in your classroom, and why do you buy them yourself?”

“Because sometimes the kids are hungry. Sometimes they don’t get enough food at home, Bridger. No kid of mine is going to suffer through a full day of class on an empty stomach. And I pay for it because the school never would. It’s fine, I can afford to?—”

I’m cut off when he crosses to me, cradles my face in his hands, and stares at me intently.

“Are you kidding me right now?” His voice is hard and rough and … angry?

“Why are you mad at me over this?” I hate how apprehensive my voice sounds, and he tips his forehead against mine. He’s never touched me like this. It’s intimate and intense.

“Not angry. Definitely not that. Tell me the next time you go, and I’ll help.”

“The kitten loves the cat tree,” Birdie announces, running into the kitchen. Bridger casually pulls back and smiles down at his daughter.

“Is that right?”

“Miss Dani, what are you going to name her?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you can help me name her.”

“Pickles.” Birdie’s voice is as sure as it can be. “Definitely Pickles. I’ve been giving it a lot of thought.”

I laugh and brush my hand over the sweet girl’s soft hair. “Pickles it is, then.”

The weekend went by too fast. I didn’t get nearly enough done because I was too busy watching the cat, in case she needed something, and now, here I am, on Monday morning at the drop-off line, yawning.

“You need a nap.”

I turn at the familiar deep voice and grin. Holy heck, he’s wearing his baseball hat backward, and I’m pretty sure my ovaries are singing the “Hallelujah Chorus.” “Good morning.”

“Have I told you how beautiful you look in your teacher gear?”

I wrinkle my nose at that and glance down at my gray slacks and simple pink blouse. “This is as boring as it gets.”

“That is absolutely false,” Bridger replies and hugs Birdie back when she wraps her arms around his legs.

“I’m going in,” Birdie announces and runs off.

Bridger sidles up next to me and brushes the back of his hand over mine. His minimal touches here and there get my blood pumping.

“I should not be flirting with a dad when I’m at work,” I whisper to him, making him grin.

“I disagree, as long as I’m the dad. Otherwise, you’re in big trouble, kitten.”

“I’m not kidding, Bridger.” I take a deep breath and let it out slowly when he takes a tiny step away from me.

“You’re coming to dinner tonight.” He arches an eyebrow when my gaze whips up to his. “No excuses this time. I want to flirt with you without prying eyes.”

“Your daughter will be there.”

“I don’t care if she sees me flirt with you.” His answer is so easy, his smile so dang smug. “Say you’ll be there, Dani.”

“What are you planning to feed me?”

His lips twitch. “Burgers on the grill.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “You know I love a good burger.”

“I’m glad to hear that hasn’t changed. So, say yes.”

“Okay, yes, I’ll come.” My eyes widen, and when he snorts, I shake my head. “Not like that. ”

“Oh, yeah.” He leans in a bit, still not touching me, but whispering in my ear so only I can hear him. “Like that. Maybe not tonight, but soon.”

His beautiful face splits into a grin when I don’t have a comeback for him. “I’ll see you tonight. Have a good Monday, Miss Dani.”

He winks and then saunters over to his truck and drives away, and it takes at least another two minutes before my heart slows down. Why did he have to break out the backward hat? Is he trying to kill me?

Now I have to get through the day while thinking about dinner at his house. I should have asked him if I could bring something, and I would have, if I wasn’t so befuddled by him.

I glance at my watch. The bell rings in five minutes, so I make my way inside to start the day.

“I brought brownies,” I announce as I walk into Bridger’s house. “I got them from The Sugar Studio downtown.”

“Yum,” Birdie says with a smile.

“You didn’t have to bring anything,” Bridger says when he takes the plate from me, then presses his lips to my temple. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

He’s ridiculously swoony, in a broody, grumpy sort of way. I read a lot of spicy romance novels, and Bridger ranks up there with some of the hottest book boyfriends I’ve ever read. Like, he shouldn’t be real.

But his lips are on my skin, and his free hand is pressing against my lower back as he leads me toward the kitchen, and he feels real.

“We’re grilling burgers,” Birdie informs me.

“I heard. Thank you for inviting me.”

“You didn’t bring Pickles,” she says, her brown eyes concerned.

“No, she has to stay at home, but you can come see her soon.”

“Okay. Daddy, can I go watch TV?”

“Until dinner,” Bridger confirms.

“What can I do to help? I can press out patties or cut vegetables or whatever you need.”

“You,” he says, pointing to me with the business end of a knife, “sit your gorgeous ass on that stool and talk to me while I work.”

“You’re quite complimentary.” The hottest man I’ve ever seen just called me gorgeous. I inch up onto the stool and lean on the countertop, watching him, not sure what else to say.

“I call ’em like I see ’em.” He winks at me and pops a piece of cheese into his mouth, then passes one to me, which I accept.

I’m starving. My post-school snack seems so long ago right now.

What also feels like so long ago is when Bridger made it clear we’d never be more than friends. And despite usually being clueless about these things, even I can feel the shift. He wanted to kiss me in my driveway. He touches me, flirts with me. All I can conclude is that Bridger has changed his mind about being just friends. What it’s going to lead to, I have no idea, but I’m interested to find out because grown-up Bridger is way better than he was when I had a crush on him when I was a teenager.

However, I’m also nervous because I wasn’t lying to him this morning when I told him that I shouldn’t be messing around with a student’s parent. There’s no explicit rule against it, but surely it’s frowned upon from an ethical point of view.

“You got quiet,” he says and gestures for me to follow him out onto the deck in the backyard so he can put the burgers on the grill that’s already fired up.

I watch him put the patties over the fire and close the lid, and then he turns his attention over to me.

“Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“I was just thinking that what I said to you this morning isn’t wrong. I really shouldn’t be doing… anything with a student’s dad.”

He narrows his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest, making his biceps bulge, and I salivate.

“Could you get fired?” he asks.

“No, there’s nothing explicitly written in my contract.”

His body relaxes with my answer, and he reaches out to take my hand, links his fingers with mine, and brings it up to his lips, where he presses a kiss to my knuckles.

“Then we’re not doing anything wrong,” he says. “This is a small town, Dani. People have relationships all the time. And it’s not like I’m fucking you on your desk, although when I saw you in that black pencil skirt last week, that quickly became my number-one fantasy.”

Stunned, my mouth opens and closes, but no sound comes out. Finally, I squeak, “What?”

“You heard me. In case I haven’t made myself crystal clear, I think you’re gorgeous, and I plan to spend a lot more time with you. If you think that I can stay away from you now that you’re back in Bitterroot Valley, and we’re both single, and we have this chemistry between us, you’re crazy. We’re not hurting anyone.”

Did I fall and hit my head? Am I in a coma? Is this an alternate reality?

“Breathe, kitten.”

I pull in a breath. “You’re not kidding.”

“I’m dead fucking serious.” He reaches up with his free hand and tucks my hair behind my ear, then he skims those magical knuckles down my cheek. “The timing was never right before. You were too young for me, and then when you weren’t, you were gone. The time is right now, and I’m not stupid enough to walk away from you. However, if this isn’t what you want, I need you to spell it out for me so I don’t waste any more of your time.”

I frown. “You would do that? You’d walk away if I told you to?”

“It would fucking suck, but yeah, I would. Because you deserve everything good in this life, and that includes being with someone that you choose to be with.”

Holy. Swoon.

“So, no more friend zone.”

“I fucking hate the goddamn friend zone.”

His dark eyes are on mine, taking in every expression on my face, in that serious way he’s always had that makes my toes curl.

“I’m not going to tell you that I don’t want to see more of you.”

He blows out a breath, as if he’s immensely relieved.

“Just no big displays of affection at my job, okay?”

“I can do that.” He nods and releases me long enough to flip the patties. “You know, I still haven’t kissed you.”

“You just kissed my hand.”

“I haven’t nibbled on those plump lips or tasted your mouth. I haven’t gripped your hair while I kiss the hell out of you. I haven’t heard the noises you make or felt you shiver in my hands.”

Cue the wet panties .

Bridger is a dirty talker. Holy crap, who knew? Not me. I might have fought harder back in the day if I had.

Who am I kidding? No, I wouldn’t have. I wouldn’t have known what to do with him, and my shyness would have gotten the best of me.

I’m not feeling shy now.

He slips cheese on the patties and closes the lid, then looks my way. He’s not touching me at all, but his words are imprinted on my skin, and I have goose bumps all over my body.

“Keep looking at me like that, sweetheart, and I’ll forget that my daughter is ten yards away and wide awake.”

“How am I looking at you?”

“Like you want me.” It’s such a simple statement, but holds so much weight. He runs his tongue over his lower lip and then swears under his breath as he pulls the patties off the grill and turns it off. “Come on, trouble, let’s go eat.” Trouble. If anyone is trouble here it’s this sexy-as-heck man in front of me.

“In case I haven’t made myself crystal clear, I think you’re gorgeous, and I plan to spend a lot more time with you. The timing was never right before. You were too young for me, and then when you weren’t, you were gone. The time is right now, and I’m not stupid enough to walk away from you.”

From what my friends suggested, other guys flirted with me during college, but I never took them seriously. Too much baggage to believe them, and when I did participate in flirting, and tried to date or have a relationship, it was sorely lacking. But this is Bridger, and I know and trust him. I always have. He’s definitely given me something to think about. After dinner. Or maybe tomorrow.

Thankfully, Birdie’s infectious laugh and hearing her tell stories from her day diffuses the sexual tension between us, and we settle into a nice dinner. The burgers are delicious, and after we’ve eaten the brownies, the two of them escort me back to my house so Birdie can look in on Pickles.

“Thanks for dinner,” I murmur. We’re standing on the porch, and Birdie’s inside, playing with the cat. “I had a really nice time with both of you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m really glad you came over.” He takes a tiny step toward me and skims his fingertips down my cheek. “God, you’re soft.”

Feeling brave, I brace my hands on his hips, just over his waistband and under his shirt, feeling his skin.

“And you’re warm.”

His eyes sharpen and fall to my lips, and I lick them in anticipation. Just as he’s lowering his face to mine, the door flings open, and Birdie’s crying.

“Shit,” Bridger mutters and turns to his daughter. “What’s wrong, peanut?”

“Pickles scratched me.” She holds her arm up, and there’s a tiny pink line on her forearm. “I just pinched her back foot a little so I could look at her toe beans.”

“You don’t pinch anyone’s anything,” Bridger says with a sigh. “You’re fine, but we’ll go give it a wash. Tell Miss Dani good night.”

She knuckles the tears in her eyes and scowls. “Good night.”

“’Night, sweetie.”

Bridger picks her up, and she leans her head on his shoulder. She’s tired. But before he walks away, he leans down and kisses my forehead.

“Sleep well, sweetheart.”

“You, too.”