Melt For Him Read online

  He nodded. “I’m good with that.”

  She closed the sketchbook, and they discussed locations, plans, and dates for each guy for the next few weeks. When they were done, he asked her the question he most wanted to know.

  “Why do you like to draw so much? Besides that you’re talented.”

  “I’ve always done it,” she said, looking him in the eyes, her voice patently honest. “Ever since I was younger. Since my dad died. I think drawing helped me deal.”

  Her directness floored him. He wasn’t used to that kind of openness. He didn’t talk that openly about loss. He didn’t even know how. So he did his best to respond in a way that was worthy. “Sort of like therapy?”

  “Absolutely,” she said. “I was sad so much of the time, and drawing animals cheered me up.”

  “Animals with jaunty hats?”

  She bumped her shoulder against his, smiling. “In many cases, yes.” She pulled up the shirtsleeve, showing him her owl once more. “You asked about a deeper meaning. Here it is: this owl is for my father.”

  “Can I?” he said, lifting his hand to her shoulder, as if the ink possessed some kind of magical power. Or maybe it was just the chance to touch her once more. He traced his fingertip over the ink, then swallowed thickly. She’d been honest with him; he could do the same for her. Besides, they were keeping a necessary physical distance, so they were safe to talk like this. “I’d love to hear the story.”

  He heard footsteps on the stairs. One of the guys was on his way down, and that was his cue not to get any closer to Megan. The sound was a reminder of the promise he’d made to Travis.

  “But I shouldn’t,” he added, crossing his arms as if that would distance himself from the pull he felt toward her. He didn’t want to be harsh, but being so close to her would only lead to trouble. “We shouldn’t,” he added in as cold a voice as he could muster.

  Her features registered a strange sort of surprise. She seemed taken aback at first, then nodded crisply, as if she understood. But her eyes said otherwise.

  He turned away from her. He had to.

  Chapter Eight

  “I know this is going to be really hard for you, Trav. But try your best to look smoldering.”

  Travis gave her a pouty glare as he narrowed his eyes. “I’m always smoldering.”

  “I didn’t say I needed you to speak. You just keep your mouth shut and let me shoot,” Megan said as she captured a few final images of her shirtless brother standing by the WELCOME TO HIDDEN OAKS sign on the corner of the winding two-lane highway that connected visitors to the town where they both grew up.

  She appraised the morning’s take on the LCD screen on the back of the camera, pleased with her brother’s contribution. She liked that this year’s calendar would feature the guys around town, in more natural environments.

  “How do they look?”

  “If I Photoshop someone else’s face on, they’ll be great,” Megan said in a deadpan voice.

  “Oh, ha ha. You know calendar sales would dwindle to nothing without me.”

  “Enough, enough. Put your shirt on. You’re about the only fireman I don’t want to see shirtless,” Megan said as she tucked her camera into the bag. There was no need for lights, since the natural light of the morning had done its job, bathing the shot in a warm glow. The golden hour, she called this time of day.

  “Hey now,” Travis said as he pulled on his T-shirt. “I don’t want you getting involved with any firemen.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that,” Megan said quickly. Too quickly. She changed topics. “Breakfast?”

  “Bella’s, of course,” Travis said, and they walked around the corner about a hundred feet to a restaurant that looked like a miniature red barn on the outside, complete with the red paneling and a tarnished rooster weather vane on the roof. The restaurant was named after the owner’s dog, and the sign was written in script with a paw print as the final flourish.

  “Morning, Megan. Morning, Travis,” said Theresa, the restaurant owner.

  “Hey, Theresa,” Megan said. “Good to see you.”

  “Glad you’re back in town. Think we might keep you this time?”

  “Wish I could, but I’ve got Portland in my crosshairs,” Megan said, because she was ready for her adventure as soon as she finished the calendar. While in town, she was staying at her mom’s house, since her mom was on a two-week cruise with her husband. Megan was living out of suitcases. The boxes that Travis had helped her pack up when he came down to Los Angeles last week were stacked in the garage. Untouched. There weren’t many. Clothes, pencils, sketchpads, makeup, and photography equipment. All her books were on her ereader, and she owned no furniture. Never had. She didn’t like things, except for her drawings, and those stayed with her.

  Being back at the house was tough for her—it brought back memories of all those days when her mom didn’t even want to get out of bed. Megan had tried valiantly to help her mom cope in the only way she knew how: by drawing her pictures for comfort. Her mom still had a boxful of drawings—every species of bird under the sun was in Megan’s repertoire, not to mention pictures of cartoonish dogs in tutus and even a porcupine wearing a top hat. They’d helped some, earning Megan a smile and a few laughs each time she’d presented one to her mom.

  Mostly though, Megan had veered in the other direction of her mom when she was younger, by running to the river, heading to the parks, finding new trails in the woods to explore. Ever since then, she’d had wanderlust in her blood, and it had become a deep-rooted part of her soul.

  Theresa seated them at their favorite booth by the window that looked out over curving hills.

  “Need a menu?” she asked.

  “Nope. I’ll have toast and English breakfast tea, please.”

  Travis chuckled at her order.

  “What? What’s wrong with that?”

  “Toast and tea. It’s just funny.” Then to Theresa, “The usual for me.”

  She nodded. “Omelet, hash browns, sausage, toast, and coffee.”

  Megan laughed. “Someday, Travis, you won’t be able to eat like that.”

  He stretched his arms out wide and patted his flat stomach. “Maybe. But not yet.”

  “What’s the latest news from Hidden Oaks? You said there was a big fire a few weeks ago. How’s the family doing?” Megan asked.

  “They’re doing okay, actually. Staying with friends while their house is being worked on. But they’re all good. I told you their pets are fine, too, right? I saved the dog and cat.”

  “Aww, that’s sweet.”

  “Becker deserves all the credit. He got the kids from the second floor.”

  Megan froze. She’d had no idea. But then, why would she? “He did?”

  “We were both on duty when the call came in. The parents were at a work dinner and just a sitter was there, but she was maybe twelve and had fallen asleep on the couch. Neighbors called 911 when they smelled the smoke.”

  Megan clasped her hand over her mouth, then released it. “Oh my God. That’s so scary.”

  “Becker went up through all the smoke. Saved those little kids.”

  Megan felt a stinging in the back of her eyes. “Wow. That’s intense.”

  “Anyway, so once the kids were safe, I went back in and snagged the dog and the cat. They were both hiding out under the kitchen table. Scared little creatures.”

  “That’s amazing. I mean, you just do something amazing. Going into a burning house and not even thinking twice.”

  “Let me tell you, there’s no one I’d rather have getting my back than Becker. That man is a rock. All the more incredible, considering…”

  “Considering what?”

  Travis brushed off the question. “Nothing,” he said crisply.

  “Travis, what were you going to say?” she pressed, wanting to know more about Becker, even though he’d tried to push her away at the end of their chat at the firehouse.

  “He’s just seen some bad shit, okay
? And by the way, I already told him to stay away from you.”

  Her jaw dropped. “What?”

  He pointed to his eyes. “I have two eyes. I saw you chatting the other day at the coffee shop. I’d trust him with my life, but he’s no good for you, so don’t get any ideas.”

  She willed herself to give nothing away, to not reveal that he had indeed picked up on mutual attraction. “One. Nothing is going to happen. Two. Why on earth would you say that?”

  “He’s not in a good space. He had a rough go of it in Chicago. He’d never be able to give you what you need. Just trust me on this,” Travis said.

  “That’s just fine,” she replied as matter-of-factly as she could, trying to make it seem like there was no reason for him to be concerned anyway. “Besides, I’m not interested in a relationship with anyone right now. I’m not even going to be in town for long,” she said, speaking the full truth. There was another side to the truth, though; she already liked Becker and she knew that spending more time with him would lead to her wanting more of a relationship, and that would simply be no good for her heart.

  “What’s the story, Miss Megan? You really going to Portland?”

  “Yes,” she said. Now was as good a time as any to tell him about the job she’d landed, so she shared the details. As she finished, she added, “And that means I’m only in town for as long as the shoot and then I’ll be on my way again.”

  Travis’s expression turned wistful as he sighed. “I’m happy for you. But I wish you were staying. Not going to lie. I hate that you’re leaving again so soon.”

  “I know you do, but this is a big deal for me.”

  “I get it. It’s just good to have you back. I like having you around. Call me crazy for liking my sister,” he said and flashed a half-sad, half-happy smile.

  “Crazy,” she said as if it were a nickname. Then she let go of the teasing. “Thanks for coming to get me in L.A.” She was grateful for her big brother. They were a team; always had been, always would be. He’d looked out for her when they were younger, and he was the first person she called when she decided it was finally time to get away from the toxic relationship with Jason. Travis had responded instantly, heading down to L.A. the next day to help her.

  “Of course. That guy was a douche. I’m glad he wasn’t there when I picked you up or I would have strangled him. You heard from him at all?”

  “No. I honestly don’t even think he knows I’m gone. Or he doesn’t care,” Megan said, then felt a hitch in her throat. She hadn’t shed many tears over Jason lately. She’d shed them all while they were together for those two long years, and he’d been ghosting in and out of moments in her life, existing on another plane of reality—his own heightened reality. Recalling the emptiness that had been her time with him brought so many latent emotions to the surface. Add in her already-keyed-up response to the story of the fire, and her eyes were wet again.

  “Hey,” Travis said softly and switched sides to join Megan. He wrapped an arm around his little sister. “It’s okay.”

  She leaned into his shoulder, tucking her face against his navy-blue T-shirt as a few rebel tears fell. “Sorry,” she muttered. “It’s not even that I miss him. It was just such a crap relationship.”

  He stroked her hair. “I know. It sounds like it. I’m really glad you’re not with him. You deserve a good guy. A stable, steady guy who’d never hurt you and who’d never do that shit.”

  She wiped away her last remaining tear. “What about you? Anyone in your life?”

  “Hell no,” Travis said. “You know me. I’m married to my two jobs.”

  “I know. And I still worry about you every day. The thought of you going into that burning building and something happening to you is horrifying.”

  He flashed her his cocky grin. “I’m a gambler. I take my chances.” Then he turned serious. “But you know me. It’s in my blood. Just like Dad.”

  “And that’s what scares me. The same thing happening to you.”

  “I do everything I can to keep on living. Everything.”

  “I wish you were just a professional card player.” Megan wasn’t fond of her brother’s volunteer career whatsoever. She’d tried to talk him out of it many times over the years, but he was determined. She’d had to live with the fear, and some days it threatened to eat her alive.

  “I’ve got some new executive card games I’m working. And I’ve been teaching a few VCs down in San Fran how to play better. How to bluff and whatnot.”

  “See? Why can’t you just do that full time? You’re good at it.”

  “Because I’m a fireman. It’s part of who I am. It’s all I ever knew. All I ever wanted to do. Dad died trying to save a family. I sure as hell don’t want to die, but my goal is to honor him by helping people, too.”

  “I hate the thought of something happening to you,” she said, flinching painfully at the prospect of losing him. She didn’t want to linger in this conversation, though. Travis knew how she felt. “Tell me something pleasant. Tell me something nice you remember about Dad.”

  “Something nice about Dad,” Travis said, and his eyes drifted off to the far wall of the restaurant lined with framed illustrations of cows, chickens, and eggs. “He used to read to you when you were little. Every single night. He came home, tucked you in, and made sure he read to you. You always wanted stories of animals. That was your favorite thing in the whole world, and he read them all to you.”

  Megan wished she could remember it. Wished she knew more of her father than her own inked interpretation and childhood fantasy that he’d watched over her. But she didn’t, and she never would.

  As far as she was concerned, that was yet another reminder of why it was a damn good thing she and Becker had agreed to keep their hands off each other. Because the more she got to know him, the more she liked him. And the more she liked him, the more likely she’d be hurt. A man like that, driven by danger, could ruin a woman’s heart.

  Even so, there was a part of her that longed to know him, to see past all the things that Travis warned her about. To understand that dark and haunted look she’d seen in Becker’s eyes. Maybe even to help him through. She’d never been able to help Jason because he hadn’t wanted it.

  But she simply had to ignore that noise in her head.

  More than that, she needed to turn the volume all the way down on that little voice—that naughty, devilish voice—that was asking for a repeat of that first night. Just the memory of how Becker had touched her brought a flush to her cheeks and a hot shiver across her skin.

  Like a glass of lemonade on a hot day, another night with him might quench her thirst. A night of letting go, giving in, feeling everything. But that was crazy to contemplate. Besides, Becker probably wasn’t even thinking about her, and as long as they both kept their encounter in its proper place—a cordoned-off, sealed-up box on the far back shelf of a closet—then there would be no problem getting through a little thing like a photo shoot.

  No problem whatsoever.

  Chapter Nine

  When Megan stopped by the Panting Dog the next night to hang out with Jamie, Becker muttered a gruff hello, not even meeting her eyes. It was barely an acknowledgment, and it irked Megan. Rationally, she knew this was for the best. Logically, she understood the need for the distance between them, especially given her conversation with Travis.

  Still, it bugged her, so she did her best to divert her attention. She chatted with Jamie, catching up with her good friend and focusing hard on heeding her brother’s warning.

  “Tell me everything I missed in the last year or so. Well, besides you and Smith,” Megan added with a wink.

  Jamie brought Megan up to date with various Hidden Oaks locals, from the woman who ran the olive oil shop who’d self-published a naughty romance novel that sold well and had made many husbands happy when their wives read it, to her sister Diane’s burgeoning relationship with a kind and caring dentist a few towns over.

  “He’s the best. He trea
ts Diane so well and she’s incredibly happy.” Then Jamie’s eyes widened and she dropped her voice. “But did your mom ever tell you what happened to Craig?” she asked, concern in her voice, as she mentioned the guy who managed Megan’s mom’s bookstore.

  “She said he was on crutches from a ski accident, but I never got all the details. What happened?”

  “He was training for an MS fund-raiser up at Squaw in the winter. A kid on a snowboard swooped in front of him, he swerved out of the way, and bam,” Jamie said, as she smacked her hands together to approximate a loud, crashing sound.

  Megan cringed. “Oh my God. No,” she said, as if she could stop the pain that was surely part of this story.

  “He was in a coma for three days from the fall. But wait—it has a happy ending. He pulled through. He woke up to find his leg broken in several spots. I mean, he had a hell of a run of bad luck, but he went back to work in a cast and crutches a few weeks ago.”

  Megan breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God. That’s so scary, but I’m so glad it all worked out. All things considered,” she said. “My mom said he was back at work quickly. Sounds like a real trouper.”

  They chatted more as Jamie poured Megan a beer, and maybe it was the memory of the first Chihuahua she had here the other night, or maybe it was just his nearness, but she found her mind drifting back to Becker and her eyes straying to where he sat. A ribbon of longing unfurled in her as she flashed back on the way they talked by the truck the other morning before he turned away, then to how they slipped easily into conversation that first night. And now, to the way he looked so intense and serious as he seemed to be studying his laptop like it held the keys to the universe, his strong forearms on display in his shirt as he typed.

  Those arms…how she wanted to feel them around her again.

  Stupid fucking hormones. She loved them and hated them. But she also knew those bastards were powerful, and as she downed her beer, she couldn’t deny the rush of heat in her body anymore. This was a safe zone though; they were at the bar, Jamie was here, Smith was on his way, so she saw no reason why she couldn’t at least flirt with temptation.