“It’s a little shaky. Kind of rumbles a bit when I idle at lights.”
“Want me to come by and take a look?”
“I would love that,” she said and beamed at him.
He saluted her playfully. “It’s a date, then. Tomorrow.”
He joined Smith at the end of the counter as his buddy added a little bit of half-and-half to the latte. Becker took a swallow of his coffee, then returned to the thread of their conversation. “So you said Jamie has a friend back in town,” he prompted, wondering if somehow that friend was Megan. She’d seemed like a wanderer, breezing through town, hitching a ride on some sort of star in the distant sky. Even the way she vanished this morning, leaving a sexy-flirty little note as he slept, felt sort of like a dream. Then he remembered he didn’t even know where she hailed from. Could Megan somehow be friends with Jamie?
Smith nodded. “Oh yeah. Apparently they go way back. All the way to high school and before. They were supposed to see each other last night, but I guess something came up, so Jamie was pretty much bouncing with excitement when she was getting ready this morning. She can’t wait to see Megan.”
Ah, so Megan was a local. Interesting that she hadn’t mentioned being from here. Interesting too that she was friends with his employee.
“I just hope Travis doesn’t monopolize all Megan’s time. He’s super close to his sister.”
Becker nearly choked on the hot liquid that burned his throat. “What did you say?”
“Travis is super close with Megan.”
His brain froze, and he was sure all the systems in his body had stopped working. He was desperately searching for a way to rewind time, to erase what Smith said, to replace it with something else. Because there was no way that Megan could be Travis’s sister, right? She’d said she was just passing through. She’d never said she was from here. Maybe there were two Megans. After all, Megan was a common name. Besides, Travis barely used his sister’s name, usually referring to her, quite simply, as “my sister.”
“The one who’s going to shoot the calendar?” Becker asked in a stilted voice. His Megan had said she planned to be a tattoo artist. She’d never said a word about photographing firemen. He held on to the slim hope that the Megan he had planned to spread out on his bed again tonight and the Megan who shared the same last name as Travis weren’t one and the same.
Smith nodded. “Yup. She’s a good photog, Jamie says. Good artist too. She can draw pretty much anything, Jamie was telling me.”
The possibility of two Megans went poof.
As the harsh reality set in, his stomach plummeted to the ground, then free-fell another several hundred feet. He’d had sex with his good friend’s little sister last night, with one of his closest buddies’ completely off-limits sister. Amazing, mind-blowing sex that he wanted more and more of.
He worked with Travis. Fought fires with Travis. Played poker with the man. Travis came from the same stock as Becker. Knew pain, knew hardship, knew guilt.
When he looked up, he spotted Megan walking through the door of the coffee shop—right next to her brother.
Chapter Six
Everything slowed, like the warbling of a record played at the wrong speed. Out of tune and too hard to make out.
The floor of the coffee shop felt wobbly as Travis made the introduction. She dug her toes in, gripping the floor like she was on a tram taking a curve at high speed.
“And this is the one and only Miss Megan,” he said proudly, gripping her shoulder. “My amazingly talented sister who’s going to shoot our calendar. And this is my fire captain, Becker Thomas.”
Megan willed her cheeks not to flush, urged herself to keep the sheer and utter surprise coursing through her body from showing. She couldn’t let on, wouldn’t let on.
Be impassive.
Becker extended a hand to shake, and her mind flashed back to last night, to them shaking hands, then to all the places where his hands had been. In her hair, on her hips, between her legs as he spread her thighs wide open for his mouth.
Her insides were jumpy, and it was half from the shock and half from the delicious memories.
“Nice to meet you, Megan Jansen,” he said, keeping his eyes locked on her, as if he’d caught her in a lie. She hadn’t lied, though; she simply hadn’t offered up a last name. There’d been no need to. Just like he hadn’t mentioned being a fireman.
“Nice to meet you, fire captain,” she added sharply, but he didn’t let go of her hand. She didn’t let go, either. For a brief moment, the clock stopped ticking, and in that stitch in time her mind was bursting with images from last night, her body flooded with the recall of the most delicious sensations they’d shared. Their eyes remained locked on each other, and she was sure he was seeing and feeling everything too. A shiver dared to race down her spine.
He dropped her hand, and she brushed her palm against her thigh, wishing she were anywhere but here.
Being near him was too damn difficult.
Minutes later, the five of them were outside the coffee shop, seated at a table, with Jamie’s German shepherd puppy at her feet. Thank God for the dog—the adorable creature was the perfect distraction from the awkwardness of sitting across from her brother’s boss whom she’d screwed last night. Not to mention rode, came hard on, and made plans to saddle up again.
Her head pounded. Maybe her brain was annoyed with her body’s decisions.
“Chance is such a good boy,” Megan said, stroking the little dog’s head.