Chapter 4

Chloe cleared her throat. Loudly. Loud enough that Summer could hear it over the end-of-rush-hour traffic and blaring horns on 13th Street. “Technically, we bring food to the fire department and police station out of respect and gratitude, right?”

It was a weird question. Summer and Chloe had been dropping off dinners and treats once a month to stations ever since they got out of the hospital after the shooting at their college. They were both convinced they would’ve died had it not been for the extraordinary work of emergency services personnel that day. It was too far to trek back to that small Virginia town, but they’d vowed to show their gratitude wherever they lived for the rest of their lives. Now they’d struck up a strong friendship with Engine Company 16, especially.

“Um, yes. Why? Are you suddenly looking for a tax donation or something?” If so, it was probably Riley’s fault. Hounding Chloe seven freaking months early about filing, like he did everyone else. Because that was the sort of anal, annoying thing he did. All the time. Worry about things that weren’t on a normal person’s radar. Like jaywalking.

“Nope. Just a reason not to feel guilty about how much I’m enjoying this.”

Summer looked up from her phone as Chloe parked next to the glistening fire engine. Ah. Now she understood. The guys were taking advantage of the not-abysmally-humid day to wash and detail it outside the station. Two of them with their shirts off. Two of them with shirts so wet she could count every muscle in their six-packs. And even though Summer was still tingling from the annoyingly perfect kiss Riley gave her two days ago, she was woman enough to appreciate the utter awesomeness of the hotness arrayed in front of her.

“Can I just say, on behalf of all womankind, yum?”

“If you want one of them so badly—”

“Not one,” Summer interrupted. “All of them. It’d be an insult to choose one over the other.”

Chloe unbuckled her seatbelt. “Okay, why not just ask, well, not all, but one of them out? Brett’s flirted with you from the first day we stopped by. Mitchell always asks specifically what you made and then eats whatever it is, totally ignoring what I made. And Luiz just sort of smolders at you.”

“He does, doesn’t he?” Summer said with a sigh. “I do so enjoy a good smolder. But no. Ogling and drooling only. You know my one and only rule.”

Now it was Chloe’s turn to sigh. Because she’d been trying to talk Summer out of this particular rule for years. For as many years as Summer had spent trying to ease Chloe out of her protective shell. For a long time, their efforts had canceled each other’s out. “Right. You won’t risk falling for someone who risks their life even a little for their job. But Summer, we live in Washington, D.C. Sixty-eight square miles chock-full of FBI and CIA, police, Secret Service, every branch of the military, diplomats…It doesn’t leave you much to choose from.”

She smoothed her hair, then tucked it behind her ears. Chloe’s near-engagement had upped the frequency of her pointed attempts to get Summer to fall in love. Like it was just that simple. Something she could just snap her fingers and do so that Chloe and Griff had brunch partners every third Sunday. “I had a date with that lobbyist last month.”

“The one you texted me to call and get you out of with a fake emergency after only an hour?”

“It wasn’t fake. There was a real emergency. You were out of ice cream, and needed me to bring some over.” Summer got out and pulled plastic containers from the backseat. “The other emergency was that I was about to die of boredom. Politics is sooo not my thing.”

“But sexy men are.” Chloe grabbed the loaded containers from her side and nodded her head back toward Luiz. “You’re working crazy hours. You’ve had at least a dozen bad or blah dates in a row. Why not just have a fun hookup? Something to recharge your system and put a smile on your face?”

“I already checked that off the list.”

Chloe blinked at her. “You hooked up with a guy and didn’t tell me?”

Summer swished from side to side to get her long batik skirt unbunched. “Not an actual hookup. A kiss.”

“Please. You did that with Riley on Sunday. It doesn’t count. You wrote him off as a mistake. An aberration.”

“Until I did it again.” She lifted the top container off the stack. “While you and Griff were canoodling in my storage room. He…he just moved in on me and we kissed again. It didn’t just recharge my system—I think he overloaded it. Riley gave me a kissgasm. Does that mean I’m supposed to sleep with him? Does a great kiss immediately roll into sex?”

It was quite clear, from the rapid squish and clatter of sponges and chamois and hoses hitting the pavement, that in addition to Chloe, who just giggled, all the guys had heard her.

Not that Summer was embarrassed. She embraced her sexuality. Reveled in it. She’d just never, ever considered having sex with someone she didn’t even like. Women, in her experience, didn’t work that way.

But rumor had it that men did. And these firefighters were a good enough representative sampling.

She thrust the container of empanadas into Brett’s hands. And placed her index finger beneath his chin to shut his gaping, shocked mouth. “That’s right, gentlemen. Along with burritos, tres leches cake, empanadas, and three kinds of salsa, we also brought you really hot gossip to savor.”

Brett recovered his equilibrium enough to wink at her. “Geez, Summer. If you’d said you wanted to test out this kiss-to-sex theory, I would’ve offered myself up to you months ago.”

It was a sweet offer. Of course, he flirted just as outrageously with the seventy-five-year-old Mrs. Castillo who walked her poodle past the station twice a day.

“What are you doing?” asked Chloe in a whisper that somehow snuck out of just one corner of her mouth. “This is not something to discuss with these guys. Good grief, what if the battalion chief is on duty and hears you?” She tried to push Summer back toward the car with her hip.

But Summer stood her ground. The two epic kisses with the man she’d for months called the FunSucking DeathStar had left her wildly confused. She hadn’t slept since he all but ran out of her store two nights ago, and wouldn’t again tonight unless she got some answers.

“I need information. I can’t think of a better place to get it than here.” She made a sweeping gesture with her arm to encompass the entirety of the fire station. “What makes a man kiss the stuffing out of a woman he doesn’t even like?”

“Would I be out of line to suggest that you need more than just information? Like maybe, some test runs?” Luiz’s words may have been offered to Summer, but his eyes stayed locked on Chloe. Interesting. Not that he had a shot. Her BFF was completely taken, even without a ring on her finger yet.

She watched as Luiz started rolling up the hose. Brett shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. Mitchell took the stacked containers from Chloe. Not one of them looked Summer in the eye. “What? Is there some big secret about sex and dating that requires a secret handshake into the man cave to interpret?”

Luiz and Brett exchanged a look. One that clearly meant Does she really want to go there? And How weird would it be to actually talk to her about this? Luiz jerked his head at the big glass doors to the firehouse. “Let’s take this inside.” They all backtracked into the cavernous space, then halted to stack the food on the worktable at the back. “I don’t think we should head up to the kitchen. Do you really want more people in on this?”

What a sweetie. “No.” The battalion chief did intimidate her, with an all-seeing stare that Chloe claimed made her feel like he knew if she’d skipped flossing the night before. “You guys are enough. As long as you’re honest with me.”

Brett opened a container to grab an empanada. “What do you really want to know? Will we kiss anyone as pretty as you, given the chance? Of course.”

Gratuitous compliment duly accepted. Despite the fact that his answer was a useless sidestep. So Summer repeated the point of her question. “Even if you don’t like them?”

Mitchell rubbed a hand over his neat black goatee. “Do we have to state the obvious? Women overthink this stuff. Men don’t think at all.”

Summer thought back to the two instances of kisses she’d shared with Riley. Neither were at the end of a long night of bar crawling. Heck, neither even happened in the dark. No desperation, no settling for what was close at hand. These were broad-daylight kisses intended very specifically for her. Kisses packed with heat and intent. “No. I don’t think that’s true in this case.”

Luiz smirked. “You don’t want us to explain men. You want us to explain one dude. One who’s got you twisted up in knots.”

Yes. No. Confused, not twisted. And thanks to their official truce, Summer couldn’t risk letting her confusion bubble over into frustration with the situation and lead to another round of bickering. Because then Riley would take the high road and get all judgmental and superior about how he didn’t break the truce.

No way would she let him win. “Just tell me. Have you ever kissed a girl you didn’t like?”

“Yes,” the three men said in unison, without any hesitation whatsoever.

Their answer wasn’t a complete surprise. She knew that men were often led by the organ below the belt rather than the one above the collar. It wasn’t enough. It didn’t explain Riley’s sudden attraction after months of skewering her with sarcasm and snooty know-it-all smirks.

Or, just as strangely, Summer’s inclination to kiss him back. With a great deal of enthusiasm and fervor.

Chloe squinted at the men in confusion. “But why? You’re all firefighters. You must have your pick of women anytime you get the urge. Why settle for a…a frozen burrito from the gas station when you could have the whole enchilada from El Centro?”

“You grab the burrito because it’s there. You might go back for three or four, and then you’re done,” Brett said around his mouthful of empanada. “Easy. Good enough.”

“Did you just equate me to a seventy-nine-cent frozen burrito?” Summer pinned her friend with a glare indicating that she wasn’t just skating on thin ice with her answer—she was skating on mere frost.

Chloe threw out her arms. “Well, what would you rather be? A chocolate chip cookie versus an eleven-layer Smith Island cake? A pepperoni Hot Pocket versus lasagna? You choose the food metaphor.”

As if it was even a choice. “What kind of a question is that? Obviously, I’d rather be the Smith Island cake. It is the state dessert of Maryland, after all. It’s special.”

The moment the words came out of her mouth, Summer realized her mistake. Sure enough, Chloe noticed, too…and she pounced. “Do you want Riley to have kissed you because you were special, or because you were convenient? Which way are you leaning? Because I didn’t think you wanted to be special to the FunSucking DeathStar.”

Uh-oh. She’d flounced in here, so certain that the question, the problem, the confusion was all about Riley. About his not knowing what he wanted. About him not making sense. Wanting an explanation as to why he went from frustrating to flirtatious.

But it was probably more about her reaction to him.

About how they’d finally stopped fighting for longer than three sentences. And how when they did, it turned out that Riley Ness could be both reasonable and interesting.

“I didn’t,” Summer said quietly. “I didn’t want anything to do with Riley. Now, though…I don’t know.”

The firefighters exchanged another three-way look of silent consultation. Shuffled into a tighter semicircle. Then Brett dusted the crumbs from his hand. “The thing is, this guy may like you.”

Why did that possibility put butterflies in her stomach? Summer shook her head as she hitched herself up to perch on the worktable. Legs swinging, striving to be nonchalant, she said, “He does not. Riley’s my complete opposite. He yells at me all the time. Picks on me for no reason.”

“Yep,” Brett continued, nodding with arms crossed over his muscled chest. “I did that. Starting with punching Britt Meissner in the arm back in the second grade. But not because I didn’t like her. Because I did like her and didn’t know what to do about it.”

That answer was both unacceptable and illuminating. Wrapping her head around the idea of she and Riley liking each other? Impossible. Like trying to convince herself that high-waisted jeans were anything but a tragic mistake.

Except…he had apologized. Made an attempt at complimenting her store, her work ethic. Summer jumped back down and paced the length of the bay. When she hit the end of the gleaming hook and ladder, she threw her arms out to the sides and spun around in a slow circle.

“Why do you men even bother with the subterfuge? The dancing around? Can’t you all just flash your pecs and get a woman to jump into bed with you?”

Whoops. That had come out at the top of her lungs. And she was back to being practically out on the sidewalk. Lots of people were out on this warm night. Without turning around to look, Summer just knew she’d turned a few heads, which meant Chloe would be six shades of scarlet. Oh, well. It was a red-letter day when they hung out and Summer didn’t make her friend splutter or gasp or shriek with embarrassment at least once.

One of the guys must’ve hit a button, because the big glass garage doors came sliding down in a steady mechanical drone. They were probably concerned about what she might say next. Summer let her arms flop to her sides as she trudged back to everyone.

Mitchell held her at arm’s length by her shoulders—apparently wary of her potential reaction—and gave a squeeze. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but just having sex isn’t always the goal.”

“I know,” she said with a long sigh.

Crap.

Because a hookup, she could handle. If Riley had kissed her on the dot of midnight on New Year’s Eve, or even after a dozen red, white, and blue Jell-O shooters on the Fourth, then Summer would be fine. They’d both be able to laugh it off. Ignore it. Or heck, maybe keep going for a quickie in some bar bathroom.

Something more than sex? That was completely outside of Summer’s experience. She dated interesting, competent men who could be counted on to keep their half of the conversation going over dinner. They had to keep up their half of things after dinner, too, when they started using their mouths for more interesting things than conversation.

But she always moved on after a few nights. Summer wanted to try…everything. Not in a slutty way. Just in an I almost died way too young and don’t want to miss out on anything life has to offer way. She used protection. Never led anyone on into thinking things might get serious. Her closet held a vast array of shoes. It’d be impossible to think of choosing just one to wear every day for the rest of her life.

Men were the same. Nice to look at. Often a terrific accessory, sometimes just utilitarian and comfortable. You wanted them around most of the time, but were okay going barefoot when necessary.

Riley, though…he couldn’t be discarded like a too-pointy stiletto. Not even because of Chloe and Griff’s being so into each other they practically blinked in sync. No, there was something about Riley’s intensity, when he turned it full force on her, that made Summer quite sure that Riley wouldn’t let himself be pulled out of rotation.

Luiz had taken the lids off six containers before finding the guacamole with bacon. He troweled an empanada through it. “Is he a decent guy? Does he have a job?”

“Yes.” Summer plucked at the hem of her burnt orange, lace-edged camisole. It was easier than looking him in the eye. Because it was humiliating to be shown up in the sensitivity department by a man. “He works for the NTSB.”

“He helps to save people. Ultimately,” Chloe added.

“Been there, done that.” Luiz tapped his last bit of flaky crust against the other guys’ in a makeshift toast. “Do you think he’s a good guy, Chloe?”

“I like him a ton. Riley looks out for all of his friends, all the time. He’s careful because he cares so much. He can be wickedly funny. And I hear he’s one heck of a good kisser.” She slid a sidelong glance at Summer. “I’ve never understood why he and Summer are oil and water. Although your theory that they like each other explains a lot.”

Luiz nodded his agreement. “Great. It’s settled. Summer and this guy should get together. Can we take the food up and eat now?”

“Hang on.” Because even if all the firefighters were right? If Summer could suspend her disbelief about the truce lasting and treat Riley like a person instead of an adversary? If she gave in to the undeniable heat between them? There was still a huge problem. “We’re not dropping everything and getting together tonight. Even if it turns out that we don’t hate each other, Riley and I barely know each other. We’ve been too busy fighting to have any real conversations with each other.”

Chloe hopped over a toolbox to reach her side. “I can fix that. The ACSs are looking into starting a foundation. One that’s going to, hopefully, get seatbelts put in buses. Riley’s heading up its creation. He needs help pulling together a mission statement, a press release, and a sort of speech they can use to drum up funds and support.”

“No.” Five minutes of kissing sounded doable. Spending hours working on a project with him…well, that’d be a real involvement. Not Summer’s jam at all.

“You have a degree in communication.” Chloe dug her fingers in between Summer’s ribs, tickling to press her point home. “You’ve done press releases. And you’ve given a ton of motivating, emotional speeches. You know how to reach people, how to make an impact.”

The whole speechmaking thing had been an accidental fork in the road for Summer. It had started just as a way to exorcise her own demons after the shooting. Now she gave a handful of talks a year.

Not like there was a plan to become a motivational speaker or anything.

Never a plan.

Brett sealed the guacamole back up. “That speech you gave Mitch last November about how he had to vote? Even though he was all pissy about D.C. not having congressional representation? The minute his shift was over, he hightailed it down to the elementary school and punched a ballot.”

“Good to hear.”

“In one week, you’ve flip-flopped more on Riley than the princess did on her bed with the pea. This foundation is important. It’ll do good work. Help him out, help all the guys out, for that reason alone. You can start talking at the beach this weekend.”

Chloe looked all sweet. But she could steamroll with the best of them.

Summer could swallow a few hours of brainstorming on a worthwhile cause.

The whole beach weekend with Riley thing, though? Summer was more than a little worried that they might start something more than just talking.

Worried…and hopeful.

Hopeful…and excited.

Which gave her even more to worry about.