Page 20 of Raging Inferno

“Fine, I’ll stop,” she says, rising to her feet. “But, you have to promise me to give him a shot. I’m not telling you to marry the guy. Hell, I’m not even asking you to see him again. However, if there’s an opportunity to have an orgasm, one that isn’t self-induced, then you need to do jump on it. Literally, jump on it.”

“I’m not sleeping with him.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I barely know him.”

“Perfect!”

I’m about to ask her when she became this promiscuous when my phone chimes alerting me of a text message. Of course, Amber reaches for it before I have a chance to and she takes it upon herself to read it. She doesn’t read it out loud and before I can snatch it out of her hands, I watch in horror as her fingers move across the screen.

“What are you doing!?”

“Relax,” she orders, raising the phone high above her head and out of my reach. “Your fireman is waiting outside.” Once she’s satisfied with whatever it is she’s done, she grins and hands me back my phone.

“What did you do?”

“I changed his name in your phone.”

Glancing down at the screen, I swipe my thumb across it and bring up his last text message.

“You changed his name to Jimmy the hose Casale?”

“You’re welcome,” she says, spinning around to face the door. “Now, go. Me and my godson have some serious bonding to do.”

Once she leaves the bedroom, I give myself another once over in the mirror. The nerves aren’t the only thing eating away at me. I can’t help but feel guilty and my gaze wanders toward my nightstand, to the photograph of Chris and I.

“Don’t be mad at me,” I whisper softly.

There is so much I can say. So much I thought I wanted to say. I could tell him I never asked for this. That I don’t want to date and that it’s him I’ll always love but, I leave it alone. I leave Chris’ photograph behind and reach for my purse. One foot moves in front of the other and I take the first steps needed to move on with my life.

Before I make my way out the door, I lift our son into my arms and kiss him soundly. The best part of Chris lives on and it lives on in the eyes of this perfect little boy. The thought that once brought me such sadness now is a form of comfort. It gives me peace and allows me the courage I need to walk out the door.

To walk straight to Jimmy.

Leaning against the passenger door, he lifts his head and stares at me. A smile spreads across his lips, causing the lines in the corners of his eyes to deepen. The five o’clock shadow he normally wears is gone and I can’t decide which version of the man I find more attractive, the cleanly shaved gentleman or the rugged hero.

He pushes off the truck and advances to me, closing the distance between us. The few times I’ve seen Jimmy he’s either been in bunker gear or dressed casually. I wasn’t prepared for the black tapered slacks or the blue button-down shirt he wore with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, displaying his corded forearms.

Nor was I prepared for the dormant butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

“You look beautiful,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. His eyes sweep over me thoroughly, burning me through my clothes and I force a smile.

“Thank you,” I murmur, tipping my chin. “You clean up pretty nicely yourself.”

The smile on his lips spreads wider, and he opens the door for me. Climbing into the truck, I silently thank God, I didn’t go with the dress. Once I’m seated, he closes the door and makes his way around the front of the car to the driver side. I fight not to stare at him, keeping my eyes trained out the window.

“I hope you like Italian,” he says, peeling away from the curb.

“Sure,” I reply.

“Your sister was watching from the window,” he says once we’re on the highway. “She’s a trip that one.”

“Yeah, that’s one way to describe her,” I agree, stealing a glance out the corner of my eye. With one hand on the steering wheel, the other, the one closer to me rests on his knee. Sensing my stare, he turns his attention.

“Just dinner,” he murmurs. “No need to be nervous.”

“I’m not,” I lie. “Do I look nervous?”

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