Chapter 7
Scottie
ARE YOU TWO DONE FLIRTING?
I’m not yelling.
Yelling would imply I’m raising my voice—which I’m not, obviously. My hands are just…moving a lot. That’s what happens when I’m trying to make a point and not completely lose my shit in public.
Toby looks like he wants to be anywhere else. Poor guy keeps glancing toward the smoke, like he’d literally rather be fighting a fire than talking to me.
“Well since you won’t tell me the cause because I’m ‘not the owner,’” I start, trying to sound reasonable and calm. I’m totally calm. “Can you at least tell me how bad it is?”
He shifts his weight, clearly wishing I didn’t have him cornered. “Not as bad as it could’ve been,” he says, voice hesitant. “Do you know when the owner will be—”
He doesn’t get to finish because a green Subaru screeches to a stop behind the firetruck, gravel spitting everywhere.
Great. Reinforcements.
Before the engine cuts, Elyse’s door opens first. Gavin’s flies open a beat later.
Elyse doesn’t say a word—just wraps her arms around me so tight I almost lose my balance.
“Oh my God. Thank God you’re okay.” Her voice is muffled against my shoulder. She pulls back to look me over, scanning like she expects to find damage. “Are you hurt? Do you need to go to the hospital?”
She’s been through enough lately, and the last thing I want is to add myself to the list of things she has to worry about.
“I’m fine.” I paint on a distant smile. “Really. I wasn’t inside. I just showed up and couldn’t get through.”
Her hands linger on my shoulders. Even her touch feels like too much right now, the kind of overstimulation that makes my skin buzz. I take a step back, needing distance.
“You sure?” she presses, her brows knitting together. Her voice shakes a little.
“I’m sure,” I say again, softer this time. “Honestly, I’m more worried about your townhouse.”
She waves me off, blinking fast. “I couldn’t give a shit about the townhouse. You’re more important. Were any of your things damaged?”
“Not much,” I admit. “I hadn’t unpacked yet. Most of my stuff’s still in the trunk of my car. I just picked up my insulin, so those that’s safe. I mainly lost a shit ton of clementines and a bulk-sized bag of peach rings.”
For once, procrastination pays off.
The fire chief clears his throat, reminding me he’s still standing right there. “I take it you’re the owner?”
Elyse turns toward him and shakes his hand. “Yeah. I’m the owner. She’s my tenant.”
He nods. “It appears the fire started in unit 120 and spread through the adjacent units, including yours. My investigator suspects faulty wiring. We’ll know more as the investigation unfolds, but with the smoke and water damage, it’ll need extensive repairs—possibly a total rebuild.
” He looks at me with sympathy in his eyes.
“You’ll need to find somewhere else to stay for the time being. ”
His voice fades under the roar of my thoughts.
Find somewhere else.
Sure. Easy enough for him to say.
My parents’ place isn’t an option. The condo’s barely big enough for the two of them, and their pullout couch is lumpy enough to qualify as cruel and unusual punishment.
Besides, they’d insist on giving me their bed, which would both guilt me and gross me out enough to need therapy. A girl can only handle so much.
Elyse’s voice pulls me back. “This is all my fault. I should’ve insisted you stay with us. What if you had been inside?”
“It’s not your fault,” I tell her, shaking my head. “It’s no one’s fault. I’m fine.”
She doesn’t look convinced. “You’ll stay with me and Dominic. He won’t mind.”
Maybe I will, I think but keep to myself.
They’re in the middle of renovating their house, half the rooms gutted to the studs. The parts that aren’t under construction are basically a live-in honeymoon suite. I love her, but the thought of being the third wheel in that house makes me feel wiggly.
I had a front-row seat to Elyse and Dominic’s public displays of affection in high school; I can’t imagine what they’re like now, behind closed doors. No, thank you. I’d rather not be the nonparticipating member of a threesome—forced to listen, my vibrator my only companion.
“I don’t know, Elle…” I start, trailing off before I say something I’ll regret.
She opens her mouth, but another voice calls out behind her—a familiar, deep one that sends goosebumps racing up my arms despite the heat.
“Elle!” Gavin calls out.
I glance over her shoulder and spot him across the street, standing with Travis—Ethan’s former best friend and one of the local firefighters. When Elyse ran to me, he hung back to chat Travis.
Now his attention is locked on us, his brows pulled tight. He says something to Travis, who gestures toward the hoses still working the last of the flames, and then he starts toward us.
And I hate to admit it—with a literal fire scene behind him and all—but damn if he doesn’t look good enough to eat.
He’s like an action hero come to life, the firelight flickering behind him, outlining the hard lines of his shoulders and the determined set of his jaw. His skin glistens from the heat, his expression pure tension. Downright edible.
I shouldn’t notice the way the streetlights catch in his hair, gathered in that sexy man bun, or the glint of light off his glasses when he turns his head. Or how the sleeves of his black T-shirt are pushed up just enough to show the veins on his forearms. But I do.
If death is nature’s aphrodisiac, then fire must be man’s.
He jogs the last few steps, a sheen of sweat on his temple, the smell of smoke clinging faintly to him. “Everything okay?” His voice is rough, sending a shiver up my spine.
Elyse nods. “Yeah, we’re good. Mostly.” She glances at me. “Scottie won’t be able to stay in the townhouse anytime soon, though.”
His lips press into a thin line, emphasizing his jawline. “At least you weren’t inside.”
“Nope. I was just coming back from town.”
The crease between his brows doesn’t ease, but his shoulders drop a fraction. “Good.” He turns to the scene behind him, the glow of first responders still flickering around us. “Anyone hurt?”
“The fire chief didn’t mention anyone getting hurt,” Elyse says. “They think the cause was electrical.”
He nods, exhaling through his nose. “Could’ve been worse.”
The way he says it isn’t flippant. It’s heavy. Like he’s running through every version of how this could’ve gone differently—and none of them are good.
Elyse clasps her hands together. “She’s going to stay with Dominic and me for now.”
“No,” I say at the same time Gavin does.
Her head jerks between us. “What do you mean, no?”
“It’s not necessary,” I say quickly. “You’re already up to your neck in messy renovations, and I would be in the way.”
Gavin crosses his arms. “Your place isn’t safe for guests right now, Elle.”
“She can crash on the couch,” Elyse insists.
He shakes his head. “That sounds uncomfortable as hell.”
Elyse blinks, clearly thrown by the situation. “You keep arguing without a solution. So what’s your great idea? You want her to stay with you?”
His shoulder lift as he tucks his hands in his front pockets. “It’s not the worst idea.”
What is happening right now?
“Um, hello?” I raise my hand to get their attentions. “Anyone want to ask what I want instead of deciding for me?”
Gavin’s eyes softens as he regards me. “You need somewhere to go. Tonight. There aren’t any rentals open this late in the season, and you can’t sleep in your car.”
“I wasn’t—” I start, then stop, because yeah, maybe the thought had crossed my mind.
“I have a pool house you can use. It’s empty, it’s private, quiet—and best of all, free.”
An itch starts to build beneath my skin, panic crawling up my neck. I need some semblance of control, it’s as if everything is being decided for me. And I hate that.
“I’ll stay in a motel or a hotel. There are plenty in town, so no need for everyone to get all up in arms. I can figure out my own shit.”
“They’re all booked,” Gavin says, without missing a beat. “Tourist season, remember? And so are all the vacation rentals within a twenty mile radius.”
How can he be so logical while simultaneously being bossy? And why is it attractive? My blood sugar must be plummeting because this is not me.
“Fuck, it. I’ll stay with my parents. They’ll love it, and my back can withstand sleeping on a couch.”
“Actually,” Elyse cuts in, glancing between us, “I think Gavin’s idea is a great one.”
“Which part? The part where I don’t need my best friend and her brother treating me like a child, or…?”
“Oh, stop.” Elyse gives my arm a loving little smack. “We’re only trying to help. And, I feel like it’s my duty to make sure you’re not totally fucked since I’m the one with the townhouse in ashes.”
Gavin sighs, looks like Mr. Cool-as-a-cucumber is finally running out of patience. “Scottie, just stay in the pool house. It’s not a big deal. You’ll have your own space, and it’s a lot better than crashing on some lumpy couch.”
I hate the way he says my name—there’s this drag to it, like he’s pleading, and it’s obscene how good it sounds.
Another reason I shouldn’t spend one more minute around this man than absolutely necessary.
The horny little slut on my shoulder has already drafted a hundred scenarios involving Gavin as the sexy pool boy and me, in a rotation of impractical bikinis, “accidentally” dropping things.
It’s fiction, obviously. In reality, Gavin Ledger would never want me like that.
But still, for the sake of my sanity—and my vibrator—it’s best to avoid temptation entirely.
“I can handle a week or two on the couch.” I fold my arms as some form of protection. “I’ve survived worse.”
Elyse lets out a long sigh, rubbing her temple. “You’re being annoyingly stubborn. Just say thank you and take the help.”
“I did say thank you,” I shoot back. “And I’m politely declining the accommodations.”
Gavin’s mouth twitches, and I can’t tell if he’s fighting a frown or a smile. “You’re really not going to cave, are you?”
My smile is wide and proud. “I never cave. I’m stubborn and relentless. But thank you for the offer—it’s very kind. Even though I’m not taking you up on it, I do appreciate the gesture.”
He nods, tucking his hands into his pockets, emphasizing the veins in his forearms. “Well, the offer still stands. If that couch gets too uncomfortable for you, there’s a Stearns & Foster mattress with your name on it.”
That catches my attention. “You mean the same one they use at The Ritz-Carlton?”
“That’s the one.”
“Now you tell me.” I grin. “You should’ve led with the mattress and ended with the pool house. It’s called foreplay.”
His answering smile is slow, deliberate. “My bad.”
We both stand there, grinning like idiots—until Elyse clears her throat loudly.
“Are you two done flirting? Because it’s getting a little weird.”
My face heats instantly. “We’re not flirting.
” Jesus, what is wrong with me? The smoke must be clouding my ability to think with my brain instead of my deprived lady bits.
Elyse will be absolutely insufferable if she actually thinks we were flirting.
Which we weren’t. Clearly. It’s called conversing. Gavin would never flirt with me.
“Whatever you say.” She crosses her arms. “Because I’ve got a fiancé to get home to, and it’s getting late.”
I exhale a breath that comes out half laugh, half groan. “I’m going to call my parents and head that way. They’re going to be so excited, I’m already annoyed about it.”
Elyse squeezes my arm. “Call if you need anything. Seriously.”
“I will,” I promise, though we both know I likely won’t.
Gavin hesitates for a second, like he wants to say more, but then he leans close, invading my senses with his knee-weakening scent. It’s pine and soap, and I have to fight the urge to inhale him completely—just for the brief high.
“Text me when you get there.” His voice is low and quiet, meant only for me.
I nod, unable to produce words.
That’s a first.