Probably.
“Nope, nothin’s burnin’,” Kennedy called, holding up her phone.“Checked Facebook.”
Autre was tiny.Someone, probably multiple someones, would definitely have posted any fires or other emergencies to the town’s Facebook page.Hopefully, someone would also call 9-1-1.But it wasn’t impossible to think that the volunteer firefighters would first find out about a blaze from social media.The grapevine here might just be faster than a 9-1-1 dispatcher.
“They must not have messed around then,” Ellie decided.“Yet.”
Maddie frowned at them all.“Of coursewe haven’t kissed.Or anything else.”She said it with a tone that clearly conveyed how absurd that idea was.“I’ve been here for like thirty minutes.”Not that she would kiss Owen even if she’d been here longer.They were twelve years, a lot of regrets, and a lot of growing up past kissing each other.
There might have been a moment or two when she’d remembered what it was like to kiss him.Hot.Consuming.Crazy-inducing.All excellent reasonsnotto do it.Even if he was the best kissing she’d ever had.Ever.And he’d only been seventeen and pretty new to it all.God only knew what he’d be like now.She’d probably end up burning the whole town down.
She had to very definitely, absolutely, no-question-about-itnotkiss him.
It was really unfair that she’d already seen him without his shirt on.Becausedamn, twelve years of growing up and developing and doing manual labor outside in the sun had been very, very kind to Owen Landry and his abs and biceps.
“Yeah, well, it doesn’t take thirty minutes to set a fire,” Leo said.
“None of youreallythink that she set anything on fire,” Owen said.“Stop it.”
“I don’t mean a fire like that,” Leo said.“I mean that fire.”He waggled his finger back and forth between Maddie and Owen.
Maddie felt hercheeksstart to burn a little from blushing.They were all being ridiculous but that’s what this group of people did best.“Okay, very funny,” she said.“But the shed and…everything else…was a long time ago.”
“Sparks like that don’t burn out,” Leo said.“They just lay banked, waiting for some kindling.”
Maddie sighed.They really needed a new topic.“Partner meeting time, right, Sawyer?”
“Really?”Owen asked his grandpa.“Cuz you and Ellie’s sparks burned out.”
Leo and Ellie were now divorced, even though they were still good friends and—clearly—spent time together.
Maddie groaned.He needed to let it go.Theyallneeded to let this go.
Leo shot Ellie a glance and gave her a grin.“Like I said, that kind of fire doesn’t burn out.”
“You’re divorced,” Maddie heard herself point out.Sheneeded to shut up, too.
“Doesn’t mean the spark’s gone,” Ellie said matter-of-factly.“We’re still hot for each other, we just can’t live together.”
Maddie sighed.
“Trevor know you’re still hot for Leo?”Josh asked, referring to Ellie’s boyfriend.
Maddie had never met the man and found it all bizarre, but she knew about Trevor, the New Orleans attorney who was twenty years younger than Ellie and, apparently, thought she walked on water.Kennedy, thankfully, had no filter, just like the rest of the Landrys, and she posted everything on Facebook.That worked for Maddie as a communication tool because she could look when she was ready and didn’t have to reply.She could stay up to date on the family and Autre in a general sense, but she didn’t have to beinvolved.
“Sure he does,” Ellie said.
“He trusts you not to act on it?”Josh asked, seeming almost fascinated.
“Of course,” Ellie said with a frown.
One thing that was an absolute truth—the Landrys were loyal people.When they made a promise, they kept it.
Which was why this partnership agreement was so important.And binding.Even if it hadn’t been legally binding, the guys would have wanted to follow it to the letter.Family roots and doing what you said you were going to do were hallmarks of this group of people.
“Well there was that one time…” Leo trailed off.
Ellie slapped his arm.“Trevor and I were on a break.”