Page 16 of Saving Jared

“Then let’s vamoose,” Ted said, squeezing between her and Cord. “I need some air.”

“Yeah, me too,” she said on a relieved breath before following him out the door. She ignored Cord and fast-walked away from the house, taking off her yellow helmet on the way. Then she held it and the pike in the same hand as she tugged her hood down and her mask off with the other. It felt good to take several gulps of air—smoke-tinged or not. The hallway had begun to feel claustrophobic, especially with all her gear on and Cord taking up most of her space.

What had gotten into him? She’d been with the department for almost two years and had never had to deal with harassment. Sure, there was a lot of joking around. They were a bunch of firefighters after all. But nothing had ever made her feel as uncomfortable as she had a few moments before.

Honestly, did he think just because she’d posed for a stupid calendar and bared a little skin, she was looking for that kind of attention? If he did, he was going to keep being disappointed.

“And the brothers were right,” she said on a low chuckle. She smoothed her hand over her head toward the bun securing her hair. Of course, there was no way she was going to tell them that. But in the back of her mind a little irritating sense of guilt scratched away at her. She’d assured her brothers nothing like this would happen—and she’d been pretty damned vocal about it. Maybe even a little mean.

She needed to call them and apologize. Just without divulging exactly—

She stumbled forward at the hard knock against her arm. Luckily, she had the pike pole to steady her, but she dropped her helmet and mask in the process.

“Hey, watch…” She met Cord’s smug glance over his shoulder before he faced forward and kept walking. “Asshole.”

And a bold asshole to be so blatant. Although as she glanced around, no one was paying them any attention. So, Cord’s little payback had probably gone unnoticed. But this was a problem. She stared after his swaggering form headed toward the front of the building. It was a good thing she had a week off. Maybe by the time she got back on duty he’d be over himself. If not? Well, she’d cross that bridge when she got to it.

“Willa!” Ted called out from where he and the rest of their crew, including Cord, had begun pulling and rolling hoses. “Let’s get finished up here.”

“Coming.”

Suddenly, she couldn’t wait to start her vacation.

* * *

Over three hours later she trudged up the stairs leading to the McComb’s wide, wooden, screened-in back porch off the family wing. It had taken that long to get everything squared away at the scene and then make it back to the station. Then she’d had to reload and change her equipment to be ready for the next call—even though she’d be gone. By the time she’d done all that, waiting to take a long bath in the soaker tub in her room had sounded pretty good. So, she’d decided against a shower at the station and come straight here.

And if truth be told, she’d also wanted to get someplace where she didn’t have to deal with unwanted scrutiny from Cord. Stupid man had barely taken his eyes off her before she’d left. If he kept that crap up when she got back, she’d have to go to Captain Walters.

Won’t that be fun.

She let herself in the unlocked back door and set her purse down on the nearest white quartz countertop. The McComb’s house had been like a second home to her growing up, and she smiled as she took in the familiar, homey space.

While the rest of the house was massive and had been decorated in grand style to impress their guests, this room—the family kitchen—was part of the original home where the McComb’s resided year-round. It had always been her favorite room. The most like the family who lived here, with its multicolored, patterned tiled floor, moss green cabinets flanking the walls, and the long, wooden, rustic table that easily sat twelve. She moved further into the room and ran a hand over the table’s rough surface. She’d eaten a lot of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches here over the years.

Most times growing up, this kitchen had been the loudest room in the house. With five boys running through it and two smaller girls trying to tag along, it would have to be. But right now, most every part of the ranch was quiet. Everyone would be at the cookout after the horse drive.

Jared would be there too and was probably still overseeing everything at the campground. He’d always been hands-on when it came to all the major activities the ranch held.

She let out a low moan. And such nice, big hands they were. How many times over the past couple of days had she felt the ghost of those rough palms and fingertips rasping against her flesh? How they’d dragged over her skin as he’d glided them down her body? How they’d been gentle but full of intent as he’d...

She took off her jacket and laid it across the back of a kitchen chair. Of course, those thoughts brought her back to waking up alone when her cellphone alarm had gone off. How long had he stayed after she’d fallen asleep? She’d like to ask him, but how? Maybe she could start with, "Hey, how long did you wait to skulk away after having your way with me?"

She shook her head. No, that wouldn’t be right. He hadn’t truly had his way with her. More like, he’d given her pleasure like nothing she’d ever known while he’d been left with a hard-on that had stayed nestled against her ass as she’d drifted off to sleep. Obviously, not the actions of a man just out for his own pleasure. But it still didn’t explain why he hadn’t stayed.

Unless he’d regretted it.

That had been the explanation she’d kept coming back to. She’d basically thrown herself at him. Then again, if she hadn’t done that, he would have left after making sure she was okay and she would have missed out on being Jared’s sole sexual focus. A focus she’d love to have on her again.

She rubbed over her growling stomach, the gnawing in the pit of it taking her mind off one hunger and replacing it with another. She hadn’t eaten since lunch and it was going on 7:30. Because of Cord, she’d not only foregone taking a shower at the station but had also missed out on Curtis’s lasagna dinner.

No one would mind if she fixed herself something. The question was, what, as she took the few steps to the oversized stainless-steel refrigerator and opened wide both double doors. Almost anything a person could want had been packed inside. But did she really want to cook something?

She threw a hesitant glance behind her at the eight-burner gas stove. She wrinkled her nose at the prospect of using the intimidating piece of kitchen equipment. Willa had to imagine it was probably a chef’s dream stove. But for someone like her whose culinary repertoire was limited to hot dogs, burgers, and boxed mac and cheese? Not so much. She wouldn’t even know where to start.

“Surely there’s something I can just heat up in the microwave,” she groused as she turned back to the refrigerator.

Stew, roast, fried chicken…

Anything Mrs. Wingate, the McComb’s cook, prepared would be delicious. But nothing appealed to her as she stifled a yawn. Plus, even taking the time to microwave something didn’t sound as good to her as a long soak and going to bed.

She closed up the doors and made her way over to the table, pulled out a chair, and slumped her body into it. But she had to eat something. If she could just relax for a bit, then she’d fix herself something. She chuckled. Maybe even a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. So, she folded her arms on the table and laid her head on top of them.

“Only a few minutes,” she said around another yawn, then closed her eyes and settled herself with a sigh.

“Mmm… Maybe five.”

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