Chapter 2 #2
“I think it was her father. Unless she calls her husband Daddy.” Suz shrugs. “A girl we went to high school with is into that sort of thing.”
“God, please don’t tell me who.” I shake my head, my gaze snagging on the homeowner yet again. I can feel her distress despite the distance between us, and she pauses, hanging her head as she seems to listen to what her “daddy” has to say.
“I’d like to be her daddy,” McGruff says, causing the rest of the guys to snicker in agreement, and I send them all a deadly look that has them go silent immediately.
The last thing we need is for this woman to hear them talk about her like that. I may be a rude asshole sometimes, but I’m not a disrespectful one.
Her gaze lands on mine, and we stare at each other for a moment, neither of us moving. She ends the call, shoves the phone into the pocket of her robe, and rushes toward me, her movements almost frantic. “Is everything okay?”
Her tone is hopeful, and I hate to dash her expectations, but I am, after all, a realist.
“As you can see, the house is still standing.” Realizing my gruff tone, I try to soften it a little.
I’m tired from lack of sleep thanks to a middle-of-the-night call last evening, and this woman wears my patience thin.
Tourists. They’re the worst. “It’s smoke damage more than anything else.
And water damage. One of our investigators is on the way, and he’ll be able to assess the damage more closely. ”
“Oh, I know what started the fire.” She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, her guilt obvious. “I had a candle lit when I was in the bathtub.”
That’s why she’s clad in just a robe. I suppose she’s lucky she didn’t run out of the house completely naked.
“And the flame was really tall when I first lit it, but that usually goes down after a few minutes, you know?”
I say nothing. Just cross my arms in front of me and let her ramble as if I’ve got all the time in the world. Which I don’t.
“But then I got distracted by this podcast, and I knocked something over when I shut it off. Turns out it was the candle. I was trying to have a spa day to make myself feel better, and the next thing I knew, I could smell something burning . . .” She wrinkles her nose, and if I weren’t so impatient, I’d find her facial expression .
. . cute. And I don’t think anyone is cute save for Dot.
My six-year-old daughter.
I take a step closer to the woman, the distinct scent of burning ash clinging to her, accompanied by an undertone of something herbal—like rosemary, maybe?—just beneath. “What did the candle catch on fire?”
“I think it was the curtains.” She ducks her head for a moment, then lifts it, her imploring gaze searing into mine. “As a matter of fact, I know it was the curtains. There’s no need for an investigation. My stupid mistake caused the fire.”
Her hushed voice makes me think of confessed sins and lurid crimes, and I wonder why the hell she’s making me feel this way. “Your house will be okay,” I start, but she doesn’t let me finish.
She lunges forward with open arms, sagging against me, that soft, lush body melting into mine, and for a moment, I can’t move.
I can’t fucking breathe. But then the woman realizes what she’s doing, and she takes a giant step back, tightening the thin belt on her robe yet again as she glances down at herself.
Like she’s afraid a tit popped out or something.
“Thank you,” she says, lifting her head to level those gorgeous dark-blue eyes on me. I lose myself in them for a moment, shaking my head quickly like I need to knock myself out of a trance. “I thought for sure I was going to burn the whole house down.”
“The fire didn’t do that much damage, but the entire second level is done for.” There I go again with my brutal honesty. I see the flicker of pain in her gaze when I say the words done for, but there’s no going back now. “Those curtains are burnt to a crisp. Disintegrated completely.”
“They were Belgian linen,” she murmurs, her gaze returning to the house just behind me. “Very expensive.”
Her words are a reminder that she is rich as hell and I’m just a lowly servant, which is annoying. “Right. Well, I’m guessing you have homeowner’s insurance. Get ready to file a claim.”
She frowns, her brows drawing together. “Oh. Of course. I assume that we have insurance.”
“We?” Now I’m glancing over my shoulder, checking the house out for any other sign of life before I face her again. “You have someone else in there with you? Your husband, boyfriend, whatever?”
Suzi says I should never assume anyone’s relationship or sexual orientation, and she’s right. But the words fly out of my mouth as if I have no control over them, and thank Jesus, the woman doesn’t seem offended by my question.
“I’m definitely not married. No boyfriend either.” She spits out the word boyfriend like it’s a dirty word, lifting her chin with a sniff. Her nose in the air like a little snob. She barely comes to the middle of my chest, so “little” is an accurate description.
“Who’s the ‘we’ you’re referring to then?
” I rarely ask questions like this because, truly?
I don’t give a shit. I’m a no-nonsense, go-in-and-get-the-job-done type of guy.
But my crew is still inside cleaning everything up, and what else am I supposed to do with this woman standing outside in just a thin robe?
“My father,” she says with a sigh. “This house belongs to my parents.”
“Ah.”
That’s all I say. Ah. Because she told me everything I need to know. Rich girl. Wealthy parents. Probably has no clue how to function in the real world, which is an obvious observation, considering her behavior since the moment we rolled up to her house.
“I hear judgment in your tone.”
I glance in her direction to find she’s watching me, her lips twitching. “Busted.”
“You have a thing against people who summer here?” she asks, crossing her arms tighter in front of her and plumping up her breasts. There’s cleavage showing in the V of her robe where it crosses, and I refuse to look. Refuse to let my gaze linger.
Instead, I focus on the way she said “summer.” Like it’s a verb when it’s not. No one talks like that around here. At least, no one I know. It’s obvious this woman isn’t from around these parts. I sound like a country bumpkin in my head, but damn it, I know I’m right.
“Tourists bring in the money, but they do stupid things on a regular basis,” I mutter, grateful when I see Suzi exit the house. I need her to come save me quick.
“Like set their house on fire?” The woman arches a brow, dropping her arms to her sides, and my gaze finally lands on her chest for the briefest second. Her tits look firm beneath the thin silk. Perky. Not that I care.
I’ve got more important priorities currently. A steady life to maintain, a crew to take care of, and most importantly, a daughter to raise. Responsibilities that this little rich girl wouldn’t have a clue about.
“Exactly,” I tell her just as Suzi approaches.
“Is he treating you okay?” Suzi asks the woman before I can say anything. “Our captain can be a little grumpy sometimes.”
I make a harrumphing noise, my gaze narrowing on the woman, who starts shuffling her feet on the tiny patch of grass that’s in front of her massive house. All for one person too. What a waste.
“He’s fine, though he could be a tad less judgmental,” the woman mutters, just as she begins to cough. Reminding me that I didn’t check on her condition because she’s too damn distracting.
Suzi shoots me a quick look before she turns her attention to the woman. “Let me check you out. Make sure you’re okay.”
The woman nods. “That would be great.” She glares at me, as if she knows I failed her, and she’s right. But I ignore her.
“You’re handling her then?” I ask Suzi, keeping my voice low.
Suzi nods and even salutes me. The smart-ass. “Yes, sir.”
Rolling my eyes, I stride off, heading for the engine, the radio on my hip crackling to life. The familiar call tones start, notifying another station that they’re about to get called out, and I turn the dial down on my radio, glad it’s not us when I hear the details of the call.
Wildland fire. Three acres with a north wind. Structures nearby. A recipe for disaster.
Welcome to California in the summer.