Before long, her second cousin arrived in a yellow rescue department pick-up doing his supervisor rounds. Crows’ feet lined Mike’s face, his lean form tanned from endless days in the sun. “Welcome back, cuz.”
She hopped from her lifeguard chair, half expecting a smart remark. “Thanks.”
“Heard the west coast circuit didn’t take kindly to your southern charms.” He gave her a hug.
“Difference of opinion.”
“Well, we got a history of hostile Indians and surly pirates on this sandbar. Nothing wrong with one of our surfers putting us on the map, too.” He offered a high-five.
She slapped his palm.
So much for hiding out and laying low, the biggest gossip in Dare County knew she was back.
* * * *
Jo grabbed her phone from her backpack, set it on the truck console and drove from Ocean Rescue. She needed to quit being a chicken shit and call Ray.
She couldn’t keep him out of her head and it pissed her off. He’d been her fantasy in high school. She loved his easygoing nature and they always had fun when hanging out. Even after being away for nearly five years, she still wanted him as much as the day she’d left.
The next stoplight along the beach road flashed red. She smacked her forehead against the steering wheel, steeled her resolve and grabbed her phone. After punching his speed dial, she waited. Several rings later, the call went to voicemail.
“Hey, sorry, it was late when I got your message.” She followed a small car through the intersection as the light turned green. “Hmmm, I’m off tomorrow, if you want to catch some waves and—”
A teen on a bicycle rolled right in front of the car ahead of her.
“Shit!” She slammed her brakes. Her phone flew into the dash.
A white T-shirt billowed around a boy careening over the hood of the blue Honda. His bike bounced on the road before her all-terrain Goodyears trampled it with grinding scrape.
Her legs liquefied to warm Jell-O as she fumbled for her phone. With numb fingers, she dialed nine-one-one. Hard rain drummed against the roof of the truck as a fire hydrant geysered an endless supply of water.
“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?” a flat-toned dispatcher asked.
“Bicyclist and motor vehicle collision at…at…” She searched for a street sign. “Uh…Route 12. The beach road. North of the light that cuts through to the outlet mall.” Acrid smoke from the rubber she’d left on the asphalt gagged her.
“Anybody hurt?”
“The poor kid on the bike, probably. I’m walking there now.” She knelt next to the writhing boy. “Yeah, he’s semi-conscious and his leg looks broken.”
“Yes ma’am. Remain calm.”
“Listen, he’s moaning and going to drown if someone doesn’t shut the water off.” She dare not move him in case he had neck or back injuries.
“Water?”
“A car took out a fire hydrant.”
“You?”
The offending party sat in her car, shrieking like a banshee.
“No. He bounced off another vehicle’s windshield. My truck only ate the bicycle. We need an ambulance ASAP!”
“One’s been dispatched. Can you stay with him?”
“Of course.” With trembling fingers, she brushed hair off his forehead, pushing aside the memories of her father’s accident. “Help is on the way.”
“Do you think he has an ID or a cell phone?” A man approached with an umbrella. “He’s just in trunks―oh, wait!” He handed her the umbrella then returned with a sodden backpack. Grinning, he withdrew a sealed zippy bag.
“See if he has an ICE list,” Jo yelled over the wailing sirens.
Her umbrella friend found an emergency contact list and handed over the phone when the police arrived. An EMT jogged up and a firefighter relieved her from umbrella duty.
As she stepped from beneath the cascading waterfall, a pair of beefy hands dropped a firefighter’s turnout coat over her shoulders.
Strong and warm, the hands lingered. “So that was the, Oh shit,” Ray said huskily against her ear.
She nodded.
“You okay?”
“Think so.” She stood solid but wanted to yield to his strength. Her father had perished not too far from here in an auto accident. The memory chilled her to the bone. Luckily, the boy on the bicycle would recover. While Ray returned to his crew, his smoky bunker coat comforted her.
Utilities arrived to shut off the water then the wrecker hoisted the car onto its flatbed. Sweating in the steamy heat, firefighters cleared the road of scattered car parts. Their wisecracks reminded her of times when she’d gone on calls with her dad.
She ached to be a part of the family again.
Ray returned sweaty and grimy, but looking totally edible. His navy T-shirt bulged in all the right places. How could any man look so hot in bulky turnout pants?
Before returning home, she hadn’t thought of sex in months. Now every time he was near, her body tightened with desire.
“Come on. I’ll get your truck off the bike.” His hulky form slid behind the wheel.
The sound of the Broncosaurus mangling the rest of the bike beneath its rear wheels set Jo’s teeth on edge. Another firefighter tossed the twisted heap to the wrecker driver.
Ray hopped from her truck and held the driver’s door open. She shrugged off his coat and immediately missed his essence. How many women had been so lucky? A firefighter’s gear was sacred. “Thanks again.”
His gaze wandered to her chest. “Didn’t want everyone to see you could win a wet T-shirt contest, Dahlin’.”
Adrenaline and cold water had her nipples at attention beneath her clinging tank top. Heat scorched her cheeks. “Shit.”
“You’ve been saying that a lot today.” He smiled in his easy way. “Can you drive?”
“No problem.” She’d sounded stronger than she felt.
“You did a good job, Jo. Kept your head.” With a large, steady finger, he lifted her chin. His soft gaze held compassion.
It would’ve been so easy to melt against him. For shelter. For comfort. Hope for total fulfillment of all of her fantasies. He pressed a tender kiss to her cheek. The scratch of his stubble shot a jolt of sensual need low in her belly.
“Have a beer when you get home.”
She straightened, donned a tough expression and climbed into the seat. “Jack Daniels.”
“Good man.” He shut the door. “But he’ll kick your ass if you’re not careful.”
“Yeah, like a lot of men.” She winked and yanked her SUV into drive.
As soon as she walked into the house, Bobby handed her a whiskey on the rocks. The glass smoked with cold vapor.
“Ray?”
He nodded. “Rough day?”
Terror followed by ecstasy. “Practicing first responder skills.”
While she held the frosty drink to her forehead, her shorts beeped. She drew her phone from her pocket and read Ray’s text.
Cheers Dahlin’ H2CUS! Text code for hope to see you soon. After a swig of her cocktail, she touched her cheek where his lips had been.