Chapter Four
Lucas
Lucas was putting away his helmet that evening at the station when a flash of red caught his eye. He turned his head, but it was almost half a minute before his brain caught up to what his eyes absorbed.
A knockout in a red dress stood in the door to Station 58. She wore a bright cherry-colored scrap of fabric that fell barely to mid-thigh. It made the waves trailing over her shoulder and down her back look even more tempting. The dress was a thin fabric that clung to her curves. And what curves they were. The fabric cinched in the middle, emphasizing the swell of hips below, and in front it draped, dipping to expose a hint of cleavage.
His helmet hit the floor.
“Hello,” the woman said softly, smiling at his fluster.
His brain kicked into gear. He should’ve been a betting man. Laney Stonewater was back, alright. Though he hadn’t had her pegged 100 percent. He guessed she’d return, but he didn’t suspect her of such cruelty. She could kill a man in that dress before he even saw it coming.
Despite the lack of blood in his brain, Lucas managed to mumble, “You’re back.”
“I’m back.”
“Not the kind of woman to take no for an answer?”
“Was it that obvious?”
“Painfully.” Like how he was feeling in his pants just then. He bent down, picked up the helmet, and stowed it. He walked towards her, shoving his hands in his pockets. He could lie to himself and think that it was because he needed to get close to really emphasize how much he wasn’t going to answer her questions, but really he wanted a closer look.
Thank God most of the other firefighters were in the back eating dinner. He’d never live this down.
He stopped two feet away from her and crossed his arms. “How come a woman who doesn’t believe in ghosts is so interested in digging up one at some old inn?”
She crossed her own arms, mirroring him. “Answer my questions, and I’ll answer yours.”
“Is that how it’s going to be?”
She raised an eyebrow in response—a perfectly-shaped brown eyebrow above a beautiful light green eye.
“You shouldn’t go to that inn,” he said. “It’s old, it’s derelict, it’s…”
“Haunted?” she offered.
He swallowed. “Just trust me. It’s not somewhere you want to be. Especially not at night.”
“Well, Lucas Moore, I’m not sure I believe you, given that you’ve told me zero reasons why I shouldn’t stay there. Or shown me why I shouldn’t.”
He shook his head. Knockout or not, Cattleman’s Crossing was not someplace he wanted to return. Not in his head, and definitely not in person.
He exhaled a shaky breath, and when his voice came, it was more rough than he intended. “What if I say no again? What if I say that I want you to stop asking questions, leave, and never come back?”
She uncrossed her arms, her lips parting. She hadn’t expected him to toss her out so quickly or firmly, had probably thought she’d dazzle him with her outfit—she had—and he’d be unable to refuse.
Well, no.
Lucas knew he was approaching the line, and was maybe already there, when he’d say no too frequently or sternly enough that she really would leave and not come back. Maybe she had other sources who would be there tomorrow night. Maybe she’d talked to Adele Lyons; Mrs. Lyons would certainly talk to her.
As much as he resented Laney’s intrusion into his memories, he had to admit that not seeing this woman again felt wrong in a way he couldn’t shake. And she’d still be going to the inn the following night for her stupid article. Who knew what would happen.
Lucas swallowed, not wanting to think what could happen. He couldn’t let her go to Cattleman’s Crossing tomorrow night. Maybe he could persuade her against it.
Laney shifted her weight. “Listen, I just—”
“Have dinner with me.”
She stopped speaking, her mouth open in surprise. “What?”
“Have dinner with me. Tonight.”
She closed her mouth. “Does this mean you’re going to stay at the inn with me?”
“It means I want to have dinner with you.”
If he had his way, neither of them would be at Cattleman’s Crossing tomorrow night. He’d take another inn with her, though. Any place with a king-sized bed, where he could lay her out in that dress and run his hands up her legs and—
“Okay,” Laney said. “Now?”
“Let me get cleaned up first,” he said. “My shift’s about to end. I need to grab a shower and then I can meet you.” He rattled off the name and address of a nearby restaurant that served the best empanadas in town, and she nodded a curt agreement, a smile playing on her lips.
He knew he’d been had. But Laney didn’t realize the danger that was in front of her. Still, as she walked away from him, that dress swishing against the backs of her thighs, he leaned his back against the brick wall of the station and rubbed his hands over his face.
“Shit.”