Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
CASEY
I glanced over at Jesse when he started snoring.
Quiet rumbles that indicated he’d given in to his exhaustion.
I stopped what I was doing, studying him.
He had a five-o’clock shadow darkening his chin.
I only saw it on his days off since he had to be clean-shaven, he had explained to me, for the equipment to adhere properly on his face.
But the rest of the time, he let it grow.
Good God, how was it possible that scruff made him even sexier?
Slumped in my new chair, his arms loosely crossed over his chest and his head lolling to one side, he was absolutely delicious.
His Batman T-shirt stretched across his biceps and chest, showing off his muscles.
He had big hands—blue veins running along the backs, and his fingers were long, the nails neatly trimmed.
For some reason, my wicked fantasies hit me again, and I wondered how those fingers would feel on my skin. Touching me. Stroking my clit.
I shook my head before my lurid thoughts got me in trouble.
He looked so tired. And with his face relaxed, he seemed peaceful. He wasn’t frowning or barking out demands.
I had only planned on dropping off more cookies at the station until I saw Martha.
I remembered her from when I lived here as a child.
She had been much younger—in fact, in my mind, I remembered she was quite the sexy woman behind the desk, the single cops and firefighters falling all over themselves for a moment of her time.
But she was married and only had eyes for her husband, who back then had been the owner of the one garage in Covington.
He would drop by with lunch or to visit his wife.
He was a big, burly man, covered in tattoos and rather scary-looking.
But Martha looked at him as if he were a movie star.
And he acted as if she had hung the moon.
He was always sweet to me if he saw me there, talking to me in a low, friendly voice.
She told me today that he was retired and waiting for her to join him.
She laughed when she confessed she wasn’t that anxious to give up her job yet.
“Maybe once he gets a hobby. He’s already moved things around in my kitchen, plans dinners neither of us likes, and insists on doing the laundry and loading the dishwasher.
” She looked over her glasses at me. “As if I’d been doing it wrong all these years. ”
I laughed with her.
When she asked why I was bringing food and not letting Thorne have any, I paused.
“We’re sorta in a tug-of-war right now.”
She pursed her lips. “I see. Is he being thorny?”
I chuckled. “At times.” I shrugged. “He doesn’t like, um…”
“…changes,” she finished for me.
“Yes. And we’re disagreeing about a decoration I have. Or had.”
She leaned close. “Wind chimes?”
“How did you know?”
She smiled knowingly. “I know everything that goes on around here. Oh, here he comes. Leave it to me.”
And she had made it seem as if I was going to file a report on my missing wind chimes.
He had folded like a house of cards.
I glanced at him again, the urge to crawl into his lap and wake him with a kiss tempting. But he needed his sleep, and I needed to finish the wind chimes untangling. Besides, there was a fifty-fifty chance he’d either throw me off his lap and yell or kiss me back. I wasn’t sure with him.
And despite what I threatened, the pot roast was for him. I even planned extra gravy.
But I was going to make him work for it.
I was stirring the gravy, humming along with the music I had playing, when Jesse woke up.
I heard his body jerk awake, his feet hit the floor, and an odd noise come from his throat.
I peeked into the living room. He was upright in the chair, looking around, still half asleep and wondering where he was.
“Hi.”
He looked my way, blinked, and suddenly smiled. A wide, happy-to-see-me kind of smile. He didn’t hold back—his eyes crinkled and his entire face beamed. He was incredibly appealing when he looked like that. Handsome but in a rugged, rough way. Sexy as hell.
“Hey,” he replied. Then he frowned. “Did I fall asleep?”
“You did. For the last two hours.”
“You should have woken me up.”
“You were tired. I finished the wind chimes and was about to have dinner.” I winked at him. “I don’t imagine you want to join me?”
He was out of the chair in a swift movement. “Yep.”
He followed me into the kitchen, inhaling deeply. “God, it smells incredible.” Then he indicated the bathroom. “I’ll just, ah, wash up.”
“Sure. I’ll finish getting it ready.”
He joined me a moment later, eyeballing his plate like he hadn’t eaten in a week. He waited until I sat down and picked up my fork before he picked up his, though, impressing me with his manners. He took his first bite of the roast, smothered in gravy, and chewed in silence, his eyes shut.
“You can live here rent-free if you make this every day.”
I laughed. “You’d get tired of it pretty soon. It’s a weekly thing. If you’re good, I’d share.”
He didn’t reply, eating steadily. His low moans in the back of his throat and the occasional grunt were different from his usual noises. These were pure happiness. Pleasure.
I had to wonder how he would sound during sex.
With me.
“Do you always cook like this?”
His voice startled me out of my thoughts. I cleared my throat. “Once a week, I like a real meal. Pot roast is my favorite.” I looked at him with a grin. “And lasagna.”
He groaned, shaking his head. “They didn’t give me any. Not even a scrap.”
“They’re good at following orders.”
“Part of the job,” he replied, nodding as I offered him water. “You follow orders, you listen to what your chief says. It’s not just you if you don’t. You could risk the whole unit.”
“Have you ever been in a dangerous situation?”
“A few times. Firefighting isn’t what you see in the movies. Explosions and roofs caving in all the time. But I’ve been in situations where it’s been scary. One time…” He trailed off.
“One time?” I prompted.
“There was a house fire. We got the kids out, and I went in with my partner for the dad. He’d pushed his kids toward us but collapsed.
What we didn’t know was he was stupidly storing some chemicals.
They were downstairs, and the fire hit them and exploded while we were upstairs, blowing out the staircase and a lot of the floor.
I got separated from him and my partner.
” He paused, swallowing. “The explosion flung me back up the stairs. I was hurt and surrounded by the fire.”
Without thinking, I reached my hand across the table, grabbing his. He flipped his hand over, our palms resting together. He gripped mine tightly. “I thought that was it.”
“How did you get out?” I asked, dinner forgotten, my heart beating hard.
“I went up to the attic—kicked out the window. They swung the ladder close enough I could grab it.” He heaved a sigh. “I was off for a bit. I had broken some ribs and my leg.” He shook his head. “I didn’t even notice the pain until I hit the ground and was safe.”
“Oh my God.”
“Not long after, I decided the big city wasn’t for me anymore, and I transferred here when a posting came up.” He shrugged. “Still dangerous, but maybe not as much.”
“Jesse,” I whispered.
Our eyes met and held. The air between us was heavy. Serious. Far too intense. I felt a draw to him like a magnet. The urge to pull him toward me and kiss away the frown line on his forehead was strong. Kiss his full mouth until he forgot about what he’d told me and let nature take over was potent.
But he cleared his throat, withdrawing his hand. “Good move on my part. Never had pot roast like this before.”
I forced a laugh. “Eat it while you can. I’m here for a good time, not a long time.”
He looked thoughtful. “Lou mentioned she thought you’d stay a year. Why only a year? You plan on buying your own place?”
“No. I don’t…stay places long,” I replied, not wanting to get into it.
“I see.”
“Don’t worry, Thorne. I’ll make sure you get pot roast again.”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll hold you to that.”
We talked about various subjects. Nothing overly personal, although we shared a few tidbits.
He talked about going through fire training and never once wavering that being a firefighter was what he wanted to do.
I told him how I got into computers at school and spent every moment I could learning how they worked.
Understanding code. He asked a lot of questions about it, and I answered as best I could.
It was a safe subject for both of us as we slowly got to know each other.
After three plates of pot roast, Jesse sat back, looking satisfied. “I was starving.”
“I noticed.” I stood and carried the dishes to the counter. Jesse picked up the glasses, handing them to me. I filled the sink, the bubbles frothing up in the hot water.
“It was one of those shifts. I kept missing meals, or we’d get interrupted just as we sat down. I ate a lot of sandwiches the last few days.” He leaned against the counter and side-eyed me seriously. “I certainly didn’t get the lasagna you dropped off.”
I chuckled. “I may have some in the fridge.”
“I’ll take it.”
“I didn’t mean that as an offer.”
He grinned, looking boyish as he grabbed a dish towel and started drying. “You want your wind chimes up tomorrow? I’ll need sustenance.”
I laughed. “I see.”
“You wouldn’t want me weak and dizzy on the ladder, would you—” he hip checked me “— Pixie ?”
My eyes went round, and I gaped at him. “How did you know that?”
“Lou used to talk about Pixie. Martha called you that when I was talking to her today. I realized that Pixie and Casey were the same person.” He winked. “It suits you.”
I waved my hand, bubbles flying in the air. “It did when I was little. I was very short.”
“Not much has changed.”
I turned to him, glaring. “I’m five foot three,” I retorted, indignant.
“I’m six three—a foot taller. And I must outweigh you by at least a hundred pounds. Pixie still works.”
“Don’t make me hurt you, Thorne.”
He laughed, suddenly stepping in front of me, crowding me against the counter. He ducked his head. “Do your worst, Pixie .”
“Stop it,” I protested, laughing. I slapped his chest. “I’m small, but I’m strong.”
“So you keep telling me.”
Silence fell between us, the smiles falling from our faces.
He gazed down at me, his eyes intense. I could feel the heat of his body—warm, strong.
He smelled like fresh-cut grass in the summer.
It was a clean, masculine scent that suited him.
Unbidden, my breathing picked up and I sensed the rush of color in my cheeks.
I still had my hand on his chest, his heartbeat a steady thump-thump-thump under my palm.
He cocked his head and began to bend lower.
I rolled up on my toes, already anticipating the feel of his mouth on mine.
Desperate to close the distance between us and taste him.
Feel his arms around me. His breath drifted across my face, and I fisted the soft material of his shirt, wanting him as close as possible.
Desire bloomed in my stomach, making my entire body feel alive.
Needy. One that could only be satisfied by Jesse.
Except Barney raced down the steps, Miller hot on his heels, breaking the spell that surrounded us. Jesse leaped back as if he’d been burned and grabbed for Miller’s collar.
“Thanks, ah, for dinner. It was great. Really great. I need to take Miller for a walk, so I should go.”
I nodded dumbly.
“I’ll hang the wind chimes tomorrow.”
“Yep.”
He paused, his gaze flicking to my mouth. Then he leaned down and pressed his lips to my forehead. “Good night, Casey.”
And he left, Miller protesting the whole way.
I had to sit down, my legs too shaky to hold me up. I rested my head on my hand, and I swore I could still feel his mouth on my brow.
What the hell had just happened?
I shook my head. I wasn’t sure if I was glad the animals interrupted us or not. Jesse as a landlord was already a lot to handle—as anything else, that was unknown territory.
After I finished the dishes, I walked into the living room, sitting down in the chair.
I stared at the wall in the entryway, not really seeing anything.
I groaned as I realized how strongly I could smell Jesse’s aftershave on the fabric of the chair where he’d slept earlier.
It was a stark reminder of what had almost occurred.
And the fact that I was still unsure how I felt about it.
I rotated my neck, feeling edgy and tense.
I looked around the room, needing to do something, but I didn’t feel like coding.
I had no boxes left to unpack since I traveled light.
I stared at the huge armoire in the entryway, its placement still bothering me.
I had tried a few times to move it, but Jesse was right.
It was solid, heavy, and not movable. I laughed to myself, wondering if I should bring my jack inside from my trunk and try it.
Inspiration struck, and I went to the computer, bringing up Amazon and searching.
A few moments later, I found what I was looking for—small furniture jacks that could lift up to a thousand pounds.
I watched the video and ordered two sets, as well as a pair of appliance sliders.
If I could lift the sides, then use the sliders, I should be able to move the armoire.
It was worth a try since it bothered me every time I went past the big piece of furniture.
And since they were in stock, I’d have them tomorrow.
I shut off the computer and decided to read. I’d get lost in a story about a cold duke with wandering hands or a marquess gifted with beautiful eyes and a reputation for being a rake.
Immediately, my thoughts went to Jesse and his hazel gaze. Usually serious, often frowning, his eyes were stunning. When he smiled or became aroused, they were sinfully sexy. The mix of blue and green with flecks of brown was mesmerizing.
I shook my head, clearing my thoughts.
Enough about Jesse.
Enough.