Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Arizona
“ S eriously, stop wiggling, Cruz, or I’m going to divulge your secret ticklish spot to the guys.”
“You play dirty, you know that?” He grinned.
“A girl’s gotta do what she’s gotta do.” I swiped the tips of my fingers along the wall of the burn tower, one of the training facilities we were using as backdrops for the photo shoot, and blended the soot residue with baby oil to reapply it across his muscular chest.
“Normally, I’d never complain about a girl with hands like yours rubbing oil all over my body, but I’m not looking to get my ass kicked.” I pinched my brow and narrowed my eyes. “You know Fisher would be blowing a gasket if he saw us right now.”
“Why?” I played dumb. “He has no say here,”—because it was the truth—“I’m just trying to get the shot.”
“Arizona, you have to know the guy has it bad for you.”
“Hmph.” I snorted and shifted my weight into a better position. “Drop your right hand and arch your back slightly.”
I watched as Cruz, harnessed and suspended mid-air inside one of the training shafts, used the tip of his boot to position himself against the floor’s ledge better. I kept shifting my weight between my knees and standing, experimenting with the angles created by the shadows, which added an undeniably moody vibe to the photos.
“That’s it. Hold right there.” I rapid-fired my finger, clicking away and capturing his every breath. “Nice, Cruz, nice.” I leaned back and thumbed through the viewfinder quickly.
“Are we done here?” he asked.
“Ahh.” I flicked my wrist and glanced at the time.
Five minutes.
I was pushing it; my next subject would just have to wait. “I want to try one more angle quick.”
“You sure?” Hesitation flanked his expression.
“Yep, can you lower yourself, please?”
Despite mumbling something under his breath that I couldn’t decipher, he followed my instructions and looked up at me with a hopeful smile. “Is this good?”
“Down a little farther.” He lowered himself another foot. “Okay, that’s perfect. Now, I want you to hold the rope with both hands.” I reached out for the wall and edged my torso forward until the belt buckle on my harness scraped over the lip of the floor, allowing my vantage point to see directly down the center of the shaft. “And look?—”
“Whoa, whoa, what are you doing?” Cruz’s voice was full of alarm.
“It’s fine, I got this.” I tightened my grip on the camera.
“Ari—”
“Just give me those smoldering eyes again.” I adjusted my settings until the depth of field was perfect. His gloved hands filled the bottom center of my lens as hints of the cable supporting his weight blended in tandem against the swollen veins in his forearms. The sides of the shot were framed beautifully by his broad shoulders, but the angle of his chin wasn’t right. “Hand me your helmet; the tight quarters aren’t doing you any favors.”
“Sheesh, way to throw water on my ego.”
My camera dangled from my neck. “Hey, a friend wouldn’t do another friend dirty like that. I’m just trying to give your fan club what they want.” I reached for the helmet and tossed it behind me with a thud. “You blushing, Cruz?”
“Can we just get this over with?”
“What? Not enjoying my company?”
“It’s not that?—”
“Just give me one more minute. Lock in.”
With the helmet gone, I rolled on my side, allowing more light into the scene. I smiled, knowing this was going to be the winner. The way his eyes filled with playful hunger and just the right amount of fire blazing back at me through the lens was enough to melt the panties off the ladies who worshipped these calendars.
“All done.”
“Great, now get your ass back over the edge.”
“You know I’m harnessed up, too, right? I’m not in any danger of falling.”
“Hazard of the job.” He said in a steady voice. “And you’re not getting hurt on my watch.”
“So, I can’t get a piggyback ride to the bottom?” I looked down the shaft.
“Hell no!” His face turned beet red. “What did I ever do to make you hate me?” he hissed.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I teased because I knew what he was getting at.
“Sure you don’t. See you at the bottom.” He winked before descending, leaving me alone to gather my wits before I was to capture the last person needed to complete the calendar.
God, my nerves were eating me alive. It had been an entire afternoon of back-to-back photo shoots without any real sustenance unless you considered crumbs at the bottom of the donut box as substance. I was in desperate need of some liquid courage to face my last subject of the day.
Mr. December.
I deliberately hadn’t looked at the notes I’d been given for the final month, as I didn’t want any distractions from the other first responders. I could only imagine what debauchery Tara had planned.
Mistletoe hanging from a halo over his head.
A stocking hanging from his?—
No, he’d take a page out of JT’s book and put his junk in a box so he could get himself off on teasing and taunting me to unwrap it.
Lick it like a lollipop.
Ugh! I hated that I was picturing it.
I hated the way the corner of his mouth twitched into a hotter-than-sin smirk as if he could read my thoughts.
I hated the way my body betrayed my head and responded to his presence, but most of all, I hated that he knew it.
“I can see you fighting your inner thoughts from here, Red.”
I looked up from the spot on the ground where I’d zoned out after setting up my tripod and was met with a vibrant set of autumn-brown eyes staring back at me, luminous with a playful mischief and a simmering, magnetic charm.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Are you ready?” I questioned.
“I am, but are you?”
“Of course.” I wasn’t. I was distracted.
By him.
“All right, so the plan is, you step into the controlled pool of accelerant, and the second you do, it will ignite into a sudden burst of flames framing your silhouette. All you have to do is stand still, look directly into the camera, and give it your best smoldering look, which obviously comes naturally to you.”
“Obviously.” He grinned.
I did my best to avert my eyes from his glowing, tanned torso, which was on full display while he stood, only wearing his turnout pants with suspenders and work boots, and adjusted the Santa hat on his head.
“Hopefully, we can complete this in the two takes Tara planned.” I looked over my shoulder, wondering where she had disappeared to since there was only Cruz standing behind me on standby to supervise the complicated shot. “First, with the Christmas present closed, the second, with the lid angled open.”
“You in a rush to leave, Ari?”
“Not at all. The instructions are clear-cut; there’s no need to overcomplicate things.”
“Why is the box lid open in the second shot?”
“I’m going to Photoshop Boden and Lakelyn’s new pup with her head popping out of the box.”
“You can do that?” His eyes widened.
“Of course, it’s a simple little editing hack; I don’t want anyone up in arms thinking I put a dog at risk for a photo op.”
“Yet you have no qualms about my safety?”
“Take that up with Tara if she ever returns. Plus, we both know you’re not in any real danger.”
“Danger is all relative.”
And from how his eyes pinned me with his words, I was inclined to agree.
“Well, if you’re ready, let’s get started.” I stepped back behind the camera.
He took his place inside the specially constructed twelve-by-twelve low-level box filled with water, and on the count of three, he stomped with a heavy foot onto the circular metal drum lid filled with accelerant. The instant he did, flames shot up from the ground, dancing upward in a vibrant display that cast a dramatic glow around him. Yet, as I captured each second with my camera, it wasn’t the intensity of the fiery backdrop that left me breathless; instead, it was the radiant smile of pride radiating from him, piercing through the lens like a direct arrow to my heart.
The sound of Tara’s boots barreling in from behind saved me from further embarrassment, as I couldn’t pull myself away from the viewfinder.
“Captain Fisher just called. Something about we can’t be here on site anymore; I don’t know why,” she said, frowning slightly, “we just have to clear out immediately.”
“We’re almost done here,” I replied. “I just need one more shot. Plus, I’m sure his dad, the captain, of all people, will understand.”
“I’m, albeit, the most important month, if I do say so myself,” Jameson piped up.
The smooth whiskey timbre of his voice had me unable to hold back the side-eye I shot him as if to say, really?
“Exactly, Santa, I know,” Tara said. “Anyway, which one of you has a Christmas tree setup at home? Greer and I haven’t unpacked our tree yet.”
“Ahh—” Was she nuts? I wasn’t about to willingly offer to have Jameson in my home.
“I do.”
My head snapped in his direction, shocking the shit out of me.
“What? Christmas time is my jam!” he said, as if it were no big deal.
“Okay, so it’s settled; Jameson’s house it is,” Tara confirmed. “Let’s pack up and head over there for the second shot.”
I quickly gathered my equipment and rushed to my Jeep, grateful for the break I needed to compose myself. However, as soon as I pulled into Jameson’s driveway, Tara was noticeably absent.
“Where’s Tara?” I asked him while looking down his street for signs of her vehicle’s headlights.
“No clue?”
“Maybe she didn’t realize you moved. Do you think she’s at Jaxon’s house?”
“I suppose that’s always a possibility. I just assumed that it was common knowledge around the station and that Greer would have said something in passing.”
“Not everyone is up to date on where you lay your head at night, Jameson.”
“But you are—” His eyes questioned.
“For no other reason than the fact that you live right across the street from Boden, who mentioned you bought his place after Lakelyn moved in.”
“And yet you weren’t at McQuade’s the night of their engagement party for them, you were on a?—”
“A blind date arranged before their surprise party for your information; a blind date that you ruined.”
“If you’d seen the guy, you’d be thanking me.”
“I’d rather murder you.”
“That’s harsh, Ari,” he shook his head, “harsh.”
He wasn’t wrong; that was the effect he had on me.
He made me lose my ever-loving mind to the point I recognized my own irrationality.
“You shouldn’t hold that much hostility inside, it’s unhealthy.”
“Oh, and let me guess, you’ve got tips on how I should release my pent-up energy.” I couldn’t wait to hear this, I thought.
“I do, in fact.”
“Let’s just get this over with,” I huffed, feeling annoyed.
His brows nearly shot into his hairline before he quickly regained his composure and spun his keychain around his finger.
“I just need to get a photo of you in front of your Christmas tree so I can call it a night.”
When he turned to unlock his front door, I didn’t miss the way his shoulders lowered in defeat.
I was being a bitch, and I knew it.
It wasn’t until I stepped inside that I felt transported to an entirely different planet, a different realm.
I’d stepped into a magical Christmas wonderland.
I was utterly mesmerized and yet equally terrified.
The centerpiece of the space was undeniably his tree. Tall, fat, proudly centered in the bay window, and beautifully decorated. Everything was green, red, and white. Traditional, yet playful. On the sectional couch, pillows shaped like candy canes and Christmas wreaths accented by Rudolph, Santa, a gingerbread man, and two snowman pillows sat positioned in the corners. A beautiful, thick, hearty garland was draped across the fireplace hearth, and twinkling lights illuminated the long green stems. Above the fireplace hung a large white rectangular sign adorned by two candy cane candelabras with the word joy written across it in a fancy red script font.
The whole room screamed cozy Christmas, and I was in complete shock.
Who was this man?
“Jameson?”
“Second door on the right down the hallway is my gym; feel free to throw on my boxing gloves and beat the shit out of the bag; just picture my face, and I’m sure all your aggression will melt away.”
“Huh?” I spun around on my heel.
He was in the kitchen, adding water to the kettle before setting it down on the stove burner.
“That pent-up energy you mentioned, take it out in my gym, down the hall on the right.” He reached for the “Baby, it’s cold outside” hand towel and turned his back on me.
My heart dropped, and the butterflies that normally made me anxious with annoyance revolted against me, serving up a dose of medicine of my own doing.
I rested my camera bag and keys on the kitchen island and swallowed the distaste of unease. “I’m sorry, Jameson.”
He re-hung the towel over the handle on the stove and turned to face me. Notably absent were any of his usual tells. The expression flanking his features was noticeably somber.
“We’ve butted heads for so long that honestly, I barely recognize myself anymore when I’m around you?—”
“The door’s right behind you.” Jameson crossed his arms over his chest, causing his muscles to stretch the white fabric of his T-shirt covering his biceps.
“I don’t want to leave . . . I’m not proud of my recent behavior, but I will do better moving forward. I’m sorry, Jameson, truly. You’re a great man, hardworking, and well-respected. You don’t deserve how I’ve treated you lately.”
“Careful, Ari, it almost sounds like you’re giving me a compliment?” The corners of his mouth tipped upward.
“I—” Was saved by the kettle whistling to signal the water had finished boiling.
“Hot chocolate with Bailey’s?” he asked over his broad shoulder.
“I’d love that, thank you.”
“Make yourself at home; I’ll join you in a minute.”
I grabbed my camera and moved into the living room to appreciate his tree.
“How did I miss your obsession with Christmas all these years? Your living room is what Pinterest dream boards are made of.”
“Honestly, the only people who knew for the longest time were my parents, Jaxon, and Ford. Boden and Lakelyn have since been added to the shortlist; only because they live across the street and can see the tree through the front window.”
“How?” I still didn’t understand how Mr. Social Butterfly and self-described ladies’ man had kept this secret hidden.
“Despite what you might think, I’m a private guy.”
“I’m only just now getting a sense of that. So, you didn’t go all out when you lived with your brother?”
“Nah, I kept the holiday spirit isolated to my bed.”
I choked back a laugh, nearly spitting out my hot chocolate on his pristine white couch.
Jameson leaned into me and patted my back. “You good?”
Why did the man have to smell so darn good?
“Yes, thanks.” I felt my cheeks heat with embarrassment.
“It’s not as naughty as you’re thinking.” He smirked. “My mom bought us all Christmas flannel bedsheets when we were kids, and it was just something I looked forward to every November. What were you thinking I was going to say?”
“You realize your secret would have been out of the bag if Tara had seen this setup.” I gestured to the room, totally bypassing his query.
“I would have dealt with it; I’m not ashamed.”
“And you shouldn’t be. You did an incredible job with the place.”
“Thank you. When I moved in, I couldn’t help myself. I finally had my own place to do with as I pleased.”
I nodded, knowing the exact feeling, yet self-doubt began to creep through the cracks in my foundation as the silence stretched on.
The holidays always had a way of stirring my emotions, and often when I least expected it. Finding myself caught between a battle of sadness for all that I’d lost versus the joy of living in the present and the promise of new memories to come wasn’t foreign to me.
What was surprising was my sense of comfort while in Jameson’s home. That knowledge wrapped around me like a cozy, warm blanket before my awareness gently pulled me back to the present and the real reason why I was there.