Colorado Fireman. C.C. Coburn

success?” he asked shortly, as if he didn’t care one way or the other.

      Carly decided not to let it bother her. “Yes, it was. Thanks to you. And how did your … meeting go today?”

      Carly didn’t miss the grimace before he got his emotions under control. “Not so good. I have to appear before a disciplinary board on Monday.”

      “I’m sorry. You deserve better treatment than that,” Carly said, meaning it.

      He shrugged. “Goes with the territory. I was about to get myself a beer to drown my sorrows. Can I get anything for you … or the kid?” he asked, indicating Charlie, nestled on her hip.

      “His name is Charlie,” she said, determined not to ignore Adam’s “pretending he didn’t care about anything” act.

      “Charlie, then,” he said, and without waiting for her answer, went into the kitchen.

      Carly followed him and found him with his head buried in the fridge. “Want a beer?” he asked from the depths of it.

      “A soda would be absolutely marvelous. Thank you,” she said flippantly, then chided herself for her sarcasm. The man might be a Neanderthal, but he’d saved her son’s life. She needed to overlook his personality defects and be kind and understanding.

      “Kind and understanding, Carly,” she muttered under her breath.

      “You say something?” he asked, holding up several varieties of soda.

      She selected one and opened it. “Nothing important,” she said, noticing how he winced as he took a seat at the table. “Why don’t we set up my new table and get started on those therapeutic massages I owe you?” she suggested.

      He glanced up at her, eyes narrowed. “Are you really a qualified massage therapist?”

      “What’s that supposed to mean?” she snapped, at the end of her patience.

      He shrugged again, annoying her even more. The guy did a lot of shrugging and she suspected it was his way of pretending nothing mattered.

      Carly took a seat across from him and slammed her soda down on the table. She experienced a small sense of satisfaction when he jumped. “I asked you a question,” she said. “I don’t accept shrugging as an answer and I’m sure your mother never did, either.”

      His dark eyes bored into hers but she refused to back down. He didn’t like being challenged? Well, neither did she!

      “When Will said you were a massage therapist, I envisioned you working in one of those massage parlors.”

      Carly could feel her blood beginning to boil. She’d suspected that was what he’d been hinting at, but something perverse made her want to hear him admit it.

      “Do I look as though I work in a massage parlor?” she demanded.

      “Wouldn’t know. Never been in one.”

      Carly released a breath. “That makes two of us. For your information, I went to the American Institute of Massage Therapy and am qualified to give both therapeutic and sports massages. And I’ll accept your abject apology for being such a jerk … on one condition.”

      “And that is?”

      “That you help me unpack my new massage table from the car and specify where you’d like me to give you your first treatment.”

      A FEW INTERESTING IMAGES of places Adam would like Carly to give him a massage came to mind. Most of them were X-rated, so he quashed that thought, resisting the urge to shrug—Carly was right; he did it too often. He got up and said, “Lead the way.”

      He watched as she stood and hoisted the kid onto her hip. “Why do you always carry him around?” he asked. “Can’t he walk?” He regretted the belligerence of his tone the moment the words were out of his mouth. As he half expected, Carly managed to floor him with her answer.

      “As a matter of fact, he can. However, since I nearly lost him in the fire yesterday, I’m reluctant to let him out of my grasp. If you don’t mind me massaging you one-handed, that would be great, because I don’t want to put him down. For anything.”

      “Fair enough,” Adam said, knowing she was baiting him. “Maybe we’d better postpone that massage until he’s asleep. In a bed. Or does he sleep on your hip, too?”

      He could see her muttering something under her breath, but couldn’t quite hear it.

      “Funny,” she finally said, and threw him an exaggerated grin, which made Adam feel like a complete heel for prodding her.

      Carly opened the fridge and got out some cheese slices and bread. She prepared a sandwich with one hand, then balanced the kid on the countertop as she cut the sandwich in two. She gave one half to the child, and chose a banana from the fruit bowl. Lifting Charlie onto her hip again, she said, “Let’s go.”

      Adam found himself obediently following her through the living room and out the front door toward the car. Dusk had descended while they were inside bickering—no, that wasn’t the right word. Was there such a word as repartee-ing? He didn’t know, but it sounded … friendlier.

      She opened the rear door of his mom’s SUV and was about to reach inside.

      “Let me get that,” he said, moving around Carly.

      He enjoyed brushing against her, and saw her swallow before she stepped aside to allow him access to the truck. He took out a box that looked much too small to be a massage table. “This is it?” he asked.

      “Yes,” she said in a reasonable voice. “It’s a portable massage table, remember?” She turned toward the stables. “I also bought some lattes and shakes for the shopping party with the change. I hope you don’t mind.”

      Adam could hear the mild sarcasm in her tone and ignored it. “Where are we going?” he asked.

      She stopped in her tracks and he nearly barreled into her. “To the stables. I would’ve thought that was obvious.”