Page 79 of Playing With Fire

“I’m enjoying the fresh air!” He closed his eyes, and she took the opportunity to study his face. The grim expression he’d been wearing since he arrived had relaxed.

“That shed was pretty bad,” she said softly. Some instinct warned her to tread softly. “Do you ever get used to that smell?”

A brief flash of something like pain crossed Ricky’s face. He opened his eyes and forced a smile. “Smelled much worse. Comes with the job.”

He gazed out over the back yards and skeletal trees, and she wondered what he was really seeing.

Chill air snaked down her spine and she went inside and grabbed the well-worn quilt on the sofa.

“You have it,” said Ricky with a smile. “Are those goosebumps on your arms?”

Goosebumps, sure, but not from cold.

Jodie wrapped one end around her shoulders and, acting on impulse, offered Ricky the other end. He scooted a chair over until they were elbow to elbow. He draped the quilt around her shoulders and pulled the other end around him, creating a warm cocoon.

She sipped her cider. Her throat was suddenly so dry that she couldn’t speak.

“Let’s not forget the printer fluid.” His shoulder was hard against hers, and she resisted the instinct to wipe away a drop of water rolling down his neck from his damp curls.

Ricky continued. “The recent fires were all started by the same method. A pretty sophisticated method, but not beyond anyone who knows how to internet search. From what I can tell, thanks to Dougie Moon who helpfully did my job for me there, the previous fires were much more of the amateur, spur-of-the-moment variety.”

“The ones that the twins admitted to starting,” supplied Jodi. “And remember the pizza boxes. They belong to the recent fires.”

He nodded.

It was getting harder to focus.

“Did you...um...find any pizza boxes in the shed?” she managed.

They were barely inches apart. Close enough to smell her own shampoo on his skin, see the amber flecks in his eyes, and discover the small scar on his cheekbone. A shiver that was nothing to do with the weather tingled across Jodi’s shoulders.

“Why do you always wear your hair up?”

“Huh? Oh.” Her hands flew to her head, and she fiddled with the pins, aware that her cheeks were pink. The quilt dropped away, and cold air stung her hot face. She wanted to say that that was none of his business, or to make some flirty throwaway remark.

But Jodi knew that she wasn’t good at flirting, so she told the bald truth.

“Some visitors still assume that I’m the receptionist when they walk through the office door. I guess I’m trying to channel a little Ruth Bader Ginsburg.”

He nodded thoughtfully.

“I know about the fire. About Chrissie.” The words popped out before she could stop them.

His eyes flared with surprise. Then he shrugged. “So you know I’m on extended leave. No secret. Spending some time with my folks.”

Neither one had moved, and yet the distance between them had become a chasm.

He glanced at her and continued. “It’s not something that I’ve been able to talk about. We kick-butt firefighters are better at running around with axes and climbing ladders than we are at talking about our feelings. But I’m working on it.” He cocked an eyebrow and attempted a roguish smile. “There’s a sensitive new age guy underneath this hard-boiled exterior.”

Jodi squeezed his hand briefly. The silence lengthened until she knew with painful certainty that there was indeed more to this story. Fair’s fair, she thought. One personal question deserved another.

“But that’s not the only reason you are here Ricky.”

She made it sound like a statement, but both of them knew better.

Ricky’s expression seemed to close down like a shopkeeper pulling the window blinds. He stared at her through hooded eyes, and his face was suddenly that of a stranger. An adult man with little or no connection to the boy she had kissed in the pantry. He was bigger, stronger, and life had hardened him in ways she could never imagine.

“An investigation,” he said slowly. Jodi’s eyes narrowed, and he huffed out a laugh. “Nothing official. A...personal matter.”

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