Warnings and Wildfires

Her voice and downcast gaze tugs at me and I take a few steps closer, placing my fingers under her chin and lifting her face. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I feel…responsible for you now that you’re working for me. That’s all.”

“I appreciate that, Sully. I really do. I know you think I look younger than I am, but I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for a long time.”

Something about the sad way her mouth turns down bothers me. Again, I realize how little I know about her.

“You and your sister seem tight.”

Her face brightens a fraction. “We are. I—I’m not sure where I would’ve ended up if it wasn’t for her.”

How do I respond to that?

“Your parents?”

“Let’s not talk about them.”

“Fair enough.”

“Now, ring girl?” she asks, tapping her foot. “What is that? And why does it pay so much?” she asks with a persistence I don’t expect.

Why did I think she’d let this go?

I almost feel bad for giving Sully a hard time. But if I can hand Celia one hundred dollars by the end of the week, it will be enough to keep our electric on for another two months.

Sully sighs and steps closer. “Griff and Remy run underground fights. Illegal gambling. Ring girls get the crowd worked up or announce each round. It’s a rough crew. Griff would look after you, but it’s still not the safest place for someone like you to be.”

Wow. That’s so not what I expected him to say. And, wait a second. “Someone like me?”

He reaches out and brushes a stray strand of hair out of my eyes, his hand lingering near my cheek. “A girl who’s worried about being jumped because she thinks she’s tiny.”

“Oh.”

Our eyes meet and I’m trapped. Unable to look away.

“Aubrey,” he whispers.

He leans in and brushes an unexpected kiss over my lips. A short moan of surprise and pleasure bursts out of me. His mouth is warm and soft. Slow and sweet. Sully takes his time exploring and tasting my mouth. My lips part and his tongue slips against mine.

Another moan leaves me.

I wrap my arms around his neck and slide my hands into the silky thickness of his hair, reaching up on my tiptoes to get closer.

This is totally different from when I ambush-kissed him. This time he’s fully present and involved. In charge. Both of us groan as he deepens our kiss. My mind’s blank except for the excitement of kissing Sully. Really kissing him. Not a scared, confused, mashing my lips against his.

His firm hand against my lower back presses my body into his. My knees wobble and I grip his arms to steady myself.

A buzz-rattling noise interrupts us and Sully curses, slowly detaching himself from me. “I’m sorry, Aubrey.”

I’m not sure if he’s apologizing for the kiss or the interruption. But I don’t have the opportunity to ask. Still gasping for air, I glance down at his desk and find the source of the interruption.

Someone’s calling his phone.

A girl named Madison.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Do you…is that your girlfriend?” Aubrey asks with more than a trace of hurt in her voice.

Still reeling from our kiss. I groan at the question.

“No,” I say, snatching up my phone. Aubrey tries to push past me and I stop her with an arm around her waist. “Wait.”

The tension drains out of her body and when I’m sure she won’t run, I answer the phone.

“Hey, Maddy-girl, what’s up?”

“Dad! Are you excited to see me next week?”

I’d laugh, except it hurts too much. I miss my daughter all the time. “Of course I am. You know what you want to do while you’re here?” I ask, trying to keep my voice upbeat.

“Can we go to the butterfly garden again? Maybe Uncle Jake can come with us this time?”

Maddy’s the only person who would ever be able to lure my brother to Dancing Rainbow’s butterfly garden. “We can do that.”

“Cool!”

I chuckle at the excitement in my daughter’s voice at the same time the dull ache of not seeing her for three weeks continues to spread through my chest.

We talk for a few more minutes. Before we hang up, I write down her flight number and the time she should be arriving. Her mother usually books the tickets and sends me the bill. Madison’s the one who lets me know when she’s arriving.

Aubrey’s still in front of me looking bewildered. I’m not sure how much of Maddy’s end of the conversation she overheard.

“My daughter,” I explain.

“Oh.” Her eyes widen. “I didn’t realize. Are you. Is she. Are you married?”

“No. It’s a…long story. She lives in Florida. I only have her one weekend a month.” I shrug, uncomfortable discussing the arrangement. “Never enough time.”

The tension in her body softens and she runs her fingers down my arm. “I’m sorry. How old is she?”

“Twelve.”

“Oh,” she quirks an eyebrow. “Fun times ahead for you.”

I groan and roll my eyes. “So far she seems to save the teenage drama for her mom.”

Aubrey steps closer, reaches out like she wants to hug me, then retreats. “She probably wants to be on her best behavior when she visits since she doesn’t see you that often.”

Her observation is on target and said with kindness. The truth of it still hits me like a fist in the gut. “Yeah.”

“You hate that she’s not comfortable enough to be herself when she’s here?”

I shouldn’t be surprised. In the short time I’ve known her, Aubrey’s shown herself to be sharp and thoughtful. “Something like that. I wish we spent more time together.”

She glances around the office. “Hard to move an entire business.”

“Not just that. My family’s here. Lauren—my ex—was supposed to move back to New York, but she kept putting it off and now she’s remarried. We spent a few years battling it out, but Florida sided with her. I’m lucky to have the time I ended up with. Or so I’ve been told.”

“I’m sorry.”

I shake off the anger and sadness about the whole situation. “I shouldn’t be dumping any of this on you.”

“It’s okay,” she says softly. “I understand.”

And I get the feeling she does. It still doesn’t make it right to burden her with my issues.

She keeps staring at me with wide, unblinking eyes and I remember what we were doing before the phone call.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

Her very kissable mouth turns down and she parts her lips—probably to tell me off, but I hold up my hand.

“It wasn’t professional of me. That’s not why I hired you. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable working here.”

“I’m not.”

I gesture to the phone still in my hand. “I don’t have time for anything else. Anyone else. My daughter and this business are my priorities.”

Instead of telling me to fuck off like she should, she tilts her head, studying me for a few beats. “I respect that, Sully. I’d never want to be in the way between you and your daughter.”

And she just nailed my biggest concern. The few women I’ve tried dating in the past were either too eager to play “new mommy” to my daughter or were jealous and tried to make me choose.

There’s no choice. My daughter comes first.

What little time I do get to spend with her is precious and I don?

?t want to let anyone interfere with it.

“So, it’s not me.” She crosses her arms over her chest, putting space between us. “You just don’t date because you’re a single dad?”

“Pretty much.”

“Is that a long-term plan?”

Not sure I understand what she’s asking, I cock my head, inviting her to explain.

“Are you planning to spend the next six years alone? Or longer?”

She’s not saying anything my mother hasn’t already said. Jake’s said it too—although he’s much more crude in the words he picks.

“You’re young and have lots of options, Aubrey. You don’t want someone who already comes with responsibilities.”

Her whole demeanor changes from one of empathy and understanding to pissed off female. “Wow.” She releases an annoyed breath and meets my eyes. “Okay. Thanks for explaining my needs to me.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Look,” she says, stopping me from explaining myself. “I respect you for taking your responsibilities seriously. I’d never hold that against you. The hot-cold-explaining-my-life-choices-to-me thing I totally hold against you, though.”

“You’re my employee, Aubrey.”

With that, she turns and yanks the door open. “Employer-employee. Got it loud and clear, Mr. Wallace. Thank you.”

Aubrey’s not dramatic. She doesn’t scream the words or slam the door on her way out.

The hurt in her voice echoes just the same.

“Are all men ass-hats?” I ask my sister as I approach her workstation at the salon.

“Yes,” she answers without turning around. She straightens up and closes the cabinet she’d been sorting through “Which particular ass-hat are you referring to today?”

“Sully.”

The corner of her mouth quirks. “Your boss?”