202 Cherry Popper Way: A Small Town Friends to Lovers Firefighter Romance Page 3

  I purse my lips. Really? The couch? “After what we just did, you want the couch?” I slide my palms under his shirt and glide them over bumps and ridges.

  He might not be saying a lot, but the way he strokes the back of a finger down my cheek speaks volumes. Scratch that. Tomes. “Safer that way.” He intakes a lungful of air and I swear I think he’s debating a second round. The way his eyes roll shut and his head falls back, is telling me something so I’ll go with that.

  Yeah, buddy, your actions are contradicting your words.

  But I wisely keep my lips sealed.

  “You can stay with me until the insurance gets their end situated and you back in business. Or how does the Manor House Hotel sound?”

  Beautiful place, but for days? Possibly a week or two?

  I look pointedly at our soot-covered clothes. “I call first dibs on the shower.”

  Chapter Four

  Miles

  What the hell was I thinking? Frustration at myself tangles with self-doubt. I brought the fucking sun into my home and it’s my own damn fault when I get burned to a damn crisp.

  She probably thinks I took advantage of her yesterday. I know I do.

  I throw off the blankets and stretch my body, rolling my shoulders. The second we walked through my door last night, temptation rode me hard to take her to bed and show her what a first time should have been like.

  Only a sliver of common sense and the nightmares that plague me kept me on the couch.

  I hear the water in the kitchen turn on and in a few seconds, the smell of coffee has me on my feet. Damn woman. Next, she’ll be baking something. No sooner do I think it does apple and cinnamon mix with fresh coffee.

  Jesus. H. Christ.

  I turn the corner to find curvy ass cheeks peeking out of the bottoms of night shorts as Bela reaches for something on the top shelf. Red makes the creamy color of her skin look appetizing in the morning sunlight.

  “Are you going to stand there and growl all morning, or help me reach the sugar?”

  I cross the kitchen and come up behind her. Tousled hair and red-rimmed eyes greet me when she turns around, and I instantly want a repeat of yesterday. Pull her into my arms and tell her she has nothing to cry about and do anything she needs to make sure she doesn’t.

  Guilt creeps in. Maybe I should have shared the bed with her last night. It tears me up inside to think she might have cried herself to sleep all alone. Fuck. Why the hell didn’t I think of that? Because you were too busy worrying about sinking your dick into her tight hole again and getting addicted.

  Yeah, there is that.

  She leans in and places a kiss over my left pec, pulling me out of my thoughts. My dick takes that as a sign and hardens instantly. She turns those brown eyes south at the sight of my cock tenting my sweats.

  Her eyes widen. “Good morning to you both. And thank you.” The gentle softness of her voice captivates me. She turns on her heel, a saucy little swing to her hips. Fucking minx. What would happen if I wrap my hands around those hips, bend her over and give her a good morning fuck in my kitchen?

  The pulse in my neck quickens, my cock is harder than ever. She lifts those beautiful eyes from whatever the hell she’s concocting that smells heavenly, and I feel the pulse of her light touch me so deeply I can’t fucking breathe.

  Safe zone.

  Turn around and leave.

  I turn on my heel, the heat of her eyes boring into my back. Shower, clothes, work. I kick the bathroom door closed behind me and take a deep breath. I jerk off my sweats and crank up the hot water. Red and angry, my cock drips precum, my balls aching for release.

  At least I think it is a safe zone until I spot a pair of black lacy things hanging from the handle when I step into the shower.

  I grab the base of my cock and work the length. My eyes slide shut and I trip back to yesterday, to the heated smoothness of Bela’s hot pussy gripping me tight, and I fuck my fist.

  “Fuck, Bela. What have you done to me?”

  My release comes fast and hard. White-hot milk makes a mess of her silk panties. Breathing heavily through my entire shower, I throw open the door and make quick work of toweling off. I slide on a pair of jeans, hair still wet, and head for the kitchen. Coffee, shoes, shirt and I’m out of here. All in that order. One deviation and I’ll bury my dick where it doesn’t belong.

  I scrub a hand down my face. I need a shave, but I can do that at the station. Where I won’t be tempted to spend my entire day discovering all the little things that make Bela blush and drip girl-cum over my fingers.

  “What has the bear so riled up?”

  I step out from the hallway and cross the kitchen, every intention of keeping to my well-laid plan.

  “I had all that in this kitchen?”

  She purses her lips in that cute way that makes me want to spread her out on a flat surface. “Well, sorta. I owe your neighbor two bags of flour and five apples. Everything else… yep.”

  Fucking adorable down to the way she licks her bottom lip. She’s still wearing those damn fuck-me-now-shorts and I prowl toward her, my jeans half-open, shirt in one hand, and my eye on the coffee machine. Her eyes travel from my face and don’t stop until she touches every inch of my body. And I mean every inch. A little smirk plays on her lips when she notices the bulge in my jeans. Blue balls are going to be a constant companion over the next few days. I already know it.

  I grab my thermos and fill it to the rim.

  “Muffin?”

  The source of the apple cinnamon slides under my nose.

  “Don’t wait up for me. There’s an extra key in the mailbox.”

  I feel like I’m walking through a field of landmines and might not escape with my head in place. I probably should ask about her plans for the day, see if she needs anything that’s not worshiping her body on my kitchen counter, but another minute of her in those shorts and I will lose all my self-control. I grab a muffin when what I really want is her tight ass in my hands, stick my feet in some shoes by the side door and I’m out.

  Chapter Five

  Bela

  Hip against the counter, muffin in hand, I enjoy a bite of my morning handiwork as Miles practically flies out the door. Huh. “I wonder if he realizes he has on two different shoes?” I say into the silent kitchen.

  “Morning muffins and pajamas seem to make him nervous; I see.” Mental note: don’t bake around the man. Not if I don’t want him running for the hills.

  When he opened the door for me last night, I didn’t know what to expect on the other side. I thought I would at least find dark colors and get a man cave vibe. Instead, the only dark thing about the place was his mood ever since showing me the bedroom last night, dropping my bag by the foot of the bed, and leaving. I have to give it to the man, everything is spacious, smooth and clean. I especially love the black leather couch and the cool marble counters covering every inch of his ample kitchen. It makes for easy baking.

  I slide in the last tin of muffins I plan on taking to the firehouse and orphanage later just as my phone rings for the fourth time in twenty minutes. The first was Poppy checking in. Then Casey called wondering about work. The third was my client. She wasn’t too happy to hear about the burned penis cake, but understood. And now...ugh. The insurance company. I can answer it and never get out of these pajamas or deal with it after a shower.

  It is a no-brainer. I head down the hall, pulling off my shorts and tank. Shower first, then I’ll deal with all the things.

  I open the bathroom, ready for some hot water on my sore muscles when a yellow piece of paper catches my eye. Stark black strokes stand out on the bright paper and one word alone has me turning bright red though I’m alone.

  Panties around my knees and my bra hanging from my shoulders, my heart stops mid-beat.

  I grab the note, my eyes flying over the words. “Miles Malone!” I hiss, more flustered now than when he practically ravished me like a sugar-covered pastry yesterday. I don't know if I should laug
h or die of embarrassment.

  Both?

  I read over the note sitting on top of my panties again. My very sticky, wet panties. My heart speeds up.

  Silk is nice, but your pussy feels better

  He didn’t!

  The thick black ink is unmistakably Miles and these panties...definitely mine. My heart thunders louder in my ears. I imagined him walking into the bedroom last night, yanking down the covers and giving me a repeat of the bakery all night long. I couldn’t sleep because of that man and the way he left me wanting more of him. Instead he jacked off over my panties.

  I purse my lips with a little more sass than I should. I see I am not the only affected party. But what to do with this note? Text him a snarky reply? Ignore it like he did me this morning?

  I snatch my phone from the bathroom counter and strike a pose with my panties pulled in such a way there is no way he’ll mistake the crease of my pussy lips. “Bela Andrews doesn’t back down from a challenge, baby.”

  I hit send and take my shower.

  Ten minutes later, there’s no reply but the little checkmark tells me my naughty-gram was received. Two could play at his little game.

  I towel off my hair after breaking some time records in washing head from toe and my hair twice. It still smells like smoke, and I can only hope a couple of more showers will take care of the issue. I pour myself another coffee and risk yet another muffin. What the hell, right? I need the fortification to hold me up when I call the insurance agency back.

  Pulling on my jeans, mouth full of muffin, I hear the back door open and close. I peek my head around the corner but don’t see anyone.

  Miles. Who else could it be? Sneaky bastard did get my text after all and is back. I glance at the clock. It’s barely nine in the morning. Did he even clock in down at the fire station?

  Heat creeps up my cheeks and I take a huge shaky breath, leaving my blouse on the bed and my pants undone. Be bold. Be me. No, don’t be more. Be a sexy, badass version of me.

  I turn off my inner monologue, hold my head high and add a little swing to my hips. With only a few feet between me and a fun morning, I turn the corner, my hopes soaring.

  Just as I step clear of the hallway I stop so fast my knees have a hard time keeping up with the full-on backpedaling.

  Holy Jesus! “Not Miles! Not Miles!”

  I dive for one of his blankets and yank it around my boobs. Thank God I at least had my bra on!

  “Mrs. Malone.” Frogs sound more elegant thanks to my croaking voice.

  The woman standing across from me, muffin in hand and an all too knowing smile on her face did nothing but stare. For an awkwardly long moment.

  “I thought you and my son would make a great item. I told Joe. Mark my words.”

  Miles’ dad stops in for a pastry three times a week and is never spotted without a book in his hand. In my experience, he loves his family but tends to nod and agree with just about anything his wife says if it means he can get back to his book faster.

  Please don’t let her say she hears wedding bells. I hold the cringe off my face but just barely.

  “I heard about the fire.”

  I nod.

  A hand comes out to pat mine. “Happened to me too. Don’t feel bad.”

  I nod again.

  “Want to know a secret?”

  Again...nod.

  “Oh, since I have you, do you have a social media plan?”

  “A...” Scratchy at first, I try again. “A what, ma’am?” My heart floats back into my chest from where it fell on the floor. “Social media? For the bakery?” She throws me a look that says she wonders if I hit my head this morning.

  “Yes! Even in a town this size, you have to have a social presence.”

  I groan inwardly. More coffee. I need more coffee. She’s right, but stages and I’m not at that one just yet in my business plan. “It’s only me and Casey right now. Learning social media marketing… that will be a huge learning curve I don’t have time for.”

  “Good thing for you, I know all you need to know. Let me handle it.” The other woman has her back to me, packing up the muffins in the containers I found and set out on the counter. Once a baker, always a baker.

  She turns with a look of determination on her face. “Don’t do what I did. Go digital as soon as you can. You’ll love how fun it will be! I have so many ideas!”

  Whoa. What? I throw a hand up, my blanket slipping. I grab and tuck, not wanting to make this conversation any more awkward than it already is. “Can I take a raincheck on that, ma’am?”

  “No ma’am here, sweetie. Call me Mandy. You bought my bakery. That practically makes us family.”

  Mrs. Malone winks and I’m beginning to think that in the Malone family it’s equivalent to case closed, moving on.

  “And yes. I can see you’re rather occupied.” She eyes the blanket and pulls out that all-knowing smile only parents can manage. My mother included.

  “I have to run. Muffins are fabulous, by the way. New recipe?”

  “Yes, I was trying it out before adding it to the catalog of treats. The guys down at the station will be my guinea pigs later today.”

  “Good plan. Your secret is safe with me.”

  Mandy gathers her purse and heads for the door. “Here’s my secret for you. Miles has never brought another woman to his house. You’re the first, chick.” She winks a perfectly cat-winged eye at me, and I feel a rush of emotions. First, the seventh level of hell kind of embarrassment followed by envy. My winged eyeliner will never be that on point.

  Mrs. Malone, muffin in hand, points it at me, “Interesting, huh.”

  “You don’t say.”

  Chapter Six

  Miles

  I find the fire station in a rumbling of energy. Normal for a Monday morning. The men are running their rounds, organizing oxygen tanks, polishing the rig and doing the rounds that keep our house in top shape. Later on, we’ll run drills, check the equipment again. Duke does a pretty damn good job at checking off things on a list, and this morning he’s hot on my heels ready to deliver this morning’s report.

  I step into my office and look at the pile of paperwork that awaits me from the accident at Bela’s yesterday. It’s going to be a very long ass day. Maybe I’ll leave the paperwork for later, take a few hours longer than needed, drag it out and not go home until I know she’s asleep.

  I fall into my chair and kick out my feet, hooking them. Coffee and too much muffin churn in my gut. But Duke doesn’t seem to notice.

  He barrels in, fresh mug in his hand and a clipboard in the other.

  “Morning.”

  I nod. “Something like that.” I scrub a hand down my face. Shit, I still need to shave.

  Duke is looking at me with a shit-eating grin, his eyes glued to the spot where I have my feet.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. You had a date last night or something?”

  “Nope?”

  “Huh. Sure. Musta been a doozie.”

  “Since when did you become the dating police?”

  “Since when did the fire chief roll in here, shirt untucked, jawline covered in scruff and two different shoes?”

  I launch to my feet and jam the ends of my shirt into my pants. “Fuck you, Duke.”

  He throws me a mocked look of hurt, his expression melting into an I totally knew it shit-eating grin.

  Ignoring my friend, I look down and blurt another curse. He’s right about the damn shoes.

  “Lay it on me. Who was it? That girl down at the library? Miss... Miss…” He snaps his fingers as if it will magically make names pop into his head. “I can’t recall her name, but she’s cute. Cherry red lips, pretty green eyes.”

  I shake my head, slips sealed. “Nope.”

  “Okay, who then?” Duke pulls up a seat and I know he’s not going to leave until I tell him something. We’ve been friends since forever and I know the determined look on his face means I’ll be spilling the beans, like it or not.


  I open my mouth and Duke is right there filling in the blanks before my voice box flips on.

  “Bela Andrews. Shit, why did I not guess her first?”

  “You done? Gonna let me talk, now?” I clip out.

  Duke makes this grand royal gesture with his hand. “By all means…”

  Bela is the one weakness I can’t seem to shake. If Duke guessed it by only looking at my shoes, what does that bode for me? If she can shake me up so badly with one taste of her delicious body, what would another sampling do? A third? What if I want all of her and not just a few tastes but the whole package?

  I need to snap the hell out of it. Thinking like that is dangerous. For her and me.

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re allowed to be human, ya know.”

  Duke knows my whole story, cover to cover. All the sordid details. Even the ones that cause the nightmare late into the night. Best friend? Nah, the man is more like a brother. And he understands why I keep a distance between me and the baker. She’s pure sunshine and I live in the darkness where monsters lurk. I can’t let my past break her beauty. Nothing as ugly as my past can ever touch her. She can stay at the house as long as she wants. But that doesn’t mean I have to be there.

  Duke lowers his voice. “She okay after yesterday? The fire?”

  I lean my elbows on the desk and lace my fingers. “Yep.”

  “So what then? Why are—”

  “I brought her to my place. She’s staying with me.”

  Duke falls silent as he considers me. For a few seconds he’s as dumbfounded by my action as I feel. But his tongue doesn’t stay dormant for long. “You brought her home? The girl you can’t stop thinking about and has your insides in knots?”

  “And yesterday…” How do I say this tastefully? “I couldn’t stand her tears. One thing led to another and well, I took her home with me after.”

  Duke gives a low whistle. “I see.”

  “I’m glad you do because I sure the fuck don’t. What am I going to do? I can’t go home for however long she’s there.”