Chapter 14
HARDY
Somehow, I keep finding myself alone with this woman, and I’m having a damn hard time trying to stop myself from taking exactly what I know we both want.
But I shouldn’t complicate things. She teaches my daughter.
If we start something and it doesn’t work out, I don’t want to put Avery in the middle of it.
Avery has to come first. And her words from the other night keep playing on a loop in my head.
“Does that mean I have to share you with someone else like the fire people?”
And what if Bella sees how broken I really am and decides I’m not worth the trouble?
I have a lot of baggage, and I don’t want to subject her to it.
And what if she thinks less of me when she finds out what I’ve done?
But I don’t think she’d push me away. There’s just something about her that feels safe. Like home.
But this back-and-forth is wearing on me, and I know she’s picking up on it. I’m not sure how much longer I can resist her.
Two days after the gingerbread-house-that-couldn’t, we’re at Bella’s for another planning session while Avery is with the sitter since we don’t want her to see this part of Santa’s Workshop. Isaac is at a friend’s house which means we’re alone.
We’ve spent most of the afternoon sorting items that we collected at the firehouse drop-off box into piles, deciding what’s usable and what category it should be in.
I can’t stop staring at this woman’s ass in her shorts every time she bends over to place a toy in a pile, and I know she’s caught on to my leering.
It’s almost become a game where she’ll pick up a toy, saunter across the room, and then slowly bend to place it in the pile.
It’s not the most efficient way to sort shit, but I’m not complaining.
Grabbing a handful out of the box, I carefully drop each item into the appropriate pile. When I look over at Bella, she’s now bending over with her butt away from me, but I can see all the way down her shirt.
Fuck me. Why can’t I be with her, again?
“Something you want to talk about, Grumpy Gus?” She stands and crosses her arms under her breasts, pushing them up as they spill slightly out of the top of her shirt.
“Nope,” I say, as I try to ignore the vixen tempting the last of my willpower.
“Doesn’t sound like nothing. You keep looking over here and grumbling.”
I toss the last stuffed animal in my hand into the pile and sink onto the couch as I prop my arms on my knees and bury my face in my hands, blowing out the last of my resolve in a long, slow breath.
When I open my eyes, she’s standing in front of me, and I look up into her blue eyes. Eyes that are so light blue, they’re almost grey. Eyes that are looking down at me with hunger.
She puts a hand on my shoulder to shove me back against the couch and then slowly sits down, straddling my lap.
“I’ve seen you staring at me all afternoon. Little glances here and there. Why do you think I’m taking my sweet time going through that box?”
My heart races in my chest and I worry she can hear it as I shrug, unwilling to answer her question. Be strong. Resist the hot teacher.
“Not a day has gone by that I don’t think about the way you manhandled me in that storage closet.
The way your tongue did acrobatics against mine.
Or the way you ate me on the couch. I’m tired of bending over waiting for you to make a move.
I’m almost thirty-five. I can’t keep bending like that without paying for it tomorrow. ”
I chuckle as I rub my hands along her outer thighs. “So that would make you a nineties baby, huh? I was born in the previous decade, and you don’t see me complaining.”
“Yeah, but you literally work out for a living so you can do all the manly fire shit. And you don’t look a decade older than me.”
My stomach knots at her words. If only she knew how bad I actually was at that fire shit when it mattered most. I swallow down the nerves, trying to keep things lighthearted. “I didn’t say I was that much older than you, just born in the decade before you.”
“What year?”
“Eighty-nine.”
“Ah, the year of our lord and savior, Taylor Swift. And seriously, you’re like a year older than me.” She laughs as her hands stroke up my chest. The air grows thick between us as I stare at her. My eyes focus on her plush lips as she leans in and kisses me.
I let it go on far longer than I should as she winds her hands around my neck and makes little circles against me with her hips. I’m only a man—a weak, weak man who is tired of pushing away the one thing I want most.
She breaks the kiss and trails her lips along my jaw, around my neck, until she finally lands on a spot near my collarbone that has me bucking up against her.
“Fuck. We need to stop,” I say reluctantly as I grab her arms and hold her away from me.
“What’s wrong? Did you not like that?” I can see the insecurities building in her head. I pull her off my lap and stand as I start pacing the living room.
“I can’t do this. We can’t do this,” I say, stopping to wave a hand between us.
“There are no school rules preventing it, if that’s what you’re worried about. I checked. And I can clearly see your enthusiasm outlined in your pants, so that’s not the issue either.”
“It’s not that.” I turn my back to her as I try to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside of me, like my grief is the offensive line and here comes my lust, trampling all over it like a defensive line blocking a winning play.
What the fuck is wrong with me? She wants this.
I want this. I want her. But I can’t—I can’t get more attached.
I can see myself falling for this woman, and the thought of losing her already terrifies me.
What if I can’t save her? What if something happens to her, and I can’t get there fast enough?
“Then, what is it?” There’s a teasing quality to her voice, but I can hear her frustration too.
“Please enlighten me, because I’m tired of your grump calling the shots here.
I don’t know how I can be any more obvious, but I’m going to lay it all out, because what the hell else do I have to lose at this point?
My dignity went out the window the minute we met, so clearly… ”
She trails off, and I turn to face her, curious to know how she was going to finish that thought. “Clearly what?”
“I like you. I might more than fucking like you. And I can’t believe I just admitted that.”
“I more than fucking like you too,” I say, taking a step toward her.
“Then, what is the problem?” she asks, exasperated.
“I can’t fall for you.”
She winces, and the hurt on her face makes a knot form in my chest.
“I’m the reason why Avery doesn’t have a mom.
It’s my fault. And now I’m raising her on my own, and I’m fucking that up too.
I’m trying to split my time between her and work, but there’s not enough of me to go around and Avery’s noticed.
I don’t think she’s okay with me sharing any more of my time beyond her and work. ”
“That’s a lot of information to unpack. Can we start with the part where you think it’s your fault that her mom died?
” She looks at me expectantly, but there’s something in her eyes that makes me want to tell her everything, and at this moment I know that she can handle what I’m about to throw at her.
I sit next to her on the couch and drop my head into my hands.
“There was a fire at a boutique clothing store in Denver. It was a busy day, and I’d gone out on another call when it came in.
It turns out Lydie snuck out on her lunch break to pick up some things.
I didn’t know she was there.” I take a deep breath, willing myself to continue as a rush of shame washes over me.
“She was supposed to be at work, but apparently, she was in the store when it caught fire, and the building collapsed before they could get her out.”
“Oh my God, Hardy.” She moves closer to me, placing a comforting hand on my thigh.
My voice wobbles as I continue. “She died in a fire, and I wasn’t there.
” I inhale sharply as I fight back the tears I rarely shed.
I press my pointer fingers into the corners of my eyes.
“I should have been there. I could have gotten to her. It’s all my fucking fault my little girl doesn’t have a mom.
I’m a firefighter, and I couldn’t save my wife from a fire. ”
“Oh, Hardy. I can’t even begin to imagine that pain and guilt you’ve endured.
But this wasn’t your fault. You know that, right?
” She pulls me into a hug, rubbing a hand along my spine in long strokes as I let go of the guilt and fear I’ve been holding in for nearly two years.
Deep shuddering breaths wrack my body as I fight back the tears, but it’s no use.
They spill out of me, dampening her shirt as I press my face into her shoulder.
“I need you to know this wasn’t your fault.
Even if you had been there, there’s no guarantee you could have gotten her out, and then Avery could have lost both of her parents that day. ”
“I’m sorry, it’s hard for me to talk about this.”
“Have you ever talked to a therapist about it?” she asks, pulling back to look at my face.
I nod. “There was this widower’s support group I went to in Denver before we moved out here, and it helped. Avery has a therapist, and we do family sessions sometimes, and I do have a therapist.”
“Then you should know that none of that was your fault. You did the best you could with the information you had at the time. That’s all you could do.
As awful as that experience was, I bet it made you a better firefighter.
You’re probably hypervigilant. I bet it’s the reason why you were promoted to lieutenant so quickly. ”
Fuck, I think she has a point.
“You can say it.”
I raise an eyebrow in confusion.
“It’s written all over your face. Just give me those two little words that make every woman instantly wet.”
“…good girl?”
She laughs, and it goes straight to my dick. “No, tell me I’m right.”
A much-needed laugh escapes me as I smile at her. “You’re right.”
“That’s it, talk dirty to me, Hardy. Tell me how right I am.”
I throw my head back in laughter. “How do you do that? I’ve never met anyone like you. You have this ability to see the bright side in every situation. And make anything sound dirty.”
“It’s called optimism, and the rest is because I’m a pervert.” She laughs as her eyes connect with mine. “I know it might be surprising for a grump like you, but not all of us see the glass as half empty. It might shock you to learn that I wasn’t always this way.”
Placing a hand on her thigh, I focus all my attention on her.
“When I was eighteen, I lost my mom in a terrible car accident. She was driving, and I was in the passenger seat. At first, I felt so much guilt because we were fighting right before the crash and I blamed myself, but the roads were icy, and we would’ve crashed regardless.
It took a while for me to see how her death made me stronger.
And it doesn’t mean that I’m glad that my mom died, or that you lost your wife and Avery lost her mom.
But those experiences make us stronger people.
They teach us lessons we need to know, as painful as they may be.
And they shape us into the people we’re meant to become.
Trust me, there’s a part of me that would give anything to have her back, to have had that crash never happen, but I also wouldn’t be the woman I am today, and I know my mom would be so proud of who I’ve grown into.
And I know that if she had the choice, she’d pick this version of me, even if she had to sacrifice herself to make it happen.
That’s what we do as moms. We love our kids more than ourselves, and I didn’t know Lydie, but something tells me she would have done the same. ”
She totally would have.
I think through her words. “I don’t deserve you.”
“No one does, but I’ll take you anyway,” she says with a smile.
“Who knew there was so much heart under that perfect boob.”
“Aww, you think my boobs are perfect?” She flutters her eyelashes as I lean back on the couch, crossing my arms.
“Just the left one. I’ve only seen the right one once, so I might need more exposure to really form an opinion.” I wink at her. What the fuck am I doing, and since when do I wink? Then again, this woman has me doing all sorts of things out of my comfort zone.
“We can totally make that happen,” she says, arching her perfect eyebrow. I feel myself leaning in toward her, as though we’re magnets that can no longer stay apart.
But then her phone rings. She throws her head back and groans. “Why must you dangle the literal carrot in front of me?”
She leans over to the coffee table and answers it. “Isaac?”
My brow furrows and my alarm bells go up at her tone.
“No, no, it’s okay. I’ll be right there.” Once she hangs up, she looks at me apologetically. “So, I don’t want you to think this is a sign or anything, because I totally wanted to see where this was headed, but Isaac said he wants to come home and I need to go pick him up.”
“But he’s okay? Everything’s okay?” I ask, trying to calm my nerves.
She holds my face in her hands and kisses the top of my nose. “Everything is fine. Just a moody teen. And we will pick up where we left off tomorrow. It’s already Wednesday, and we’ve only checked gingerbread off my emoji list.” She sighs. “Nothing ruins hump day like not getting humped.”
I smile as I nod against her face, thankful for her ability to ease the tension. “Tomorrow.”
Tell me why the thought of seeing her tomorrow suddenly feels like too long a wait.
I’d nearly convinced myself to end things with her, but after our confessions, it feels like something has shifted between us.
She pulls my lips to hers and kisses me tenderly, before blowing raspberries against my closed mouth and throwing her head back in laughter.
I could get addicted to this. To her heart and her chaos.
And while I cherish the memories I have of Lydie, I’m excited at the idea of creating something new with Bella.
Now I need to get my head out of my ass and step up my game.