Page 2 of Faking It with the Firefighter

All right. So we were going there. The whole bailing-me-out-of-jail thing.

So what if I’d slashedSebastard’stires in the parking lot after he broke Charlie’s heart? He’d deserved it.

I would’ve gotten away with it, too, if it weren’t for stupid Bryce Lawson being on duty. That guy had had it out for me ever since I turned down his invitation to the homecoming dance in eleventh grade. What was I supposed to do? Go on a date with the school’s most annoying hall monitor narc and pretend to like him just so he wouldn’t report me to the principal every time he caught me skipping school?

That wasn’t the way I did things. For better or worse, with me, what you saw was what you got. The good, the bad, and the locked-up-in-jail-overnight-again. Up until the most recent incident, I’d thought those days were behind me. I wasn’t exactly a well-adjusted adult, but I was (mostly) fully functional. I had a job and a house and everything.

“Scout’s honor,” I said, giving Rex a three-finger salute, which earned me an arched brow in response. “I promise I’m on my best behavior.”

“Good,” Rex said. “Because I can’t afford to bail you out of jailagain.”

I folded my arms and looked out the window. A tidal wave of mortification rose up and tried to choke me, and it took me a few seconds to swallow it down. I could handle being handcuffed in the back of a police cruiser, but being bailed out by Rex? No one else could make me feel like as much of a screwup as the town’s scoutiest Boy Scout could. Well, no one other than my ex, Travis. He’d taken great pleasure in telling me how perfect I’d be if only I changed every little thing about myself.

But it could’ve been worse. Had my brother Gabe been the one to get me out of the clink, he would’ve had a complete meltdown. He already treated me like I should go through life wrapped up in bubble wrap. The divorce and my subsequent descent into…whatever this was that I was going through…had only made him more protective. I was grateful Rex never said a word to him.

It was a surprise that Rex had kept things quiet, to be honest. But I guessed his silence wasn’t out of the goodness of his heart. He’d said there would come a day where I’d need to return the favor. I hadn’t taken it seriously, because Rex was Rex. I figured he meant he needed help moving, or something.

I threw him another sideways glance, tracing the line of his jaw and the way the setting sunlight bounced off his corded forearms. Was he capable of being bad?

Rex Montgomery?

I bit back a scoff. Not likely.

“I paid you back for the bail money,” I said. “You should have plenty of cash.”

“I do. And I’m saving it up to buy a new house.”

New house? That was my department. My bread and butter. Unless… “Wait. Is that the favor? You want me to sell your house and waive my commission?” God, I hoped not. Single girl meant single income, not that I was complaining. Last week I’d closed two houses in one day and my phone hadn’t stopped ringing since, so my single income was keeping me pretty happy.

He huffed a laugh. “No, I’d never ask you to do anything that outrageous.”

“Outrageous” to Rex was “middle of the road” to everyone else. I couldn’t count the number of times a potential client had asked me to work for free. But not Rex. I glanced over at him, wondering how the hell he ended up being such a stand-up guy. Must’ve been in the Montgomery blood.

Years ago, I’d been in love with Rex—as much as a sixteen-year-old could be in love. It was more of an obsession, complete with “Mrs. Abigail Montgomery” written in cursive in the margins of every notebook. Then I realized that every time I got in trouble—detention at school, a ride home in the back of a police car, you know, every teenage girl’s typical Tuesday afternoon—Rex looked at me like I was from another planet. I realized that scar on his eyebrow said “bad boy,” but Rex himself was good through-and-through. Other than being my brother’s best friend, there was absolutely nothing dangerous or risky about him. The crush faded, and finally winked out completely. I would never be the type of woman that Rex needed or wanted. Even if I tried, I’d end up messing it up somehow. I always did.

Which reminded me. “So, what is it? What’s the damn favor?”

“Language, Abigail,” Rex joked, and I playfully shoved his shoulder. It was hard in that way only a carefully sculptedmuscle could be. Someone had been going to the gym. He flashed a smile at me, definitely a little wicked, and that teeny-tiny thrill went through my middle again. All this reminiscing was getting to me, and I was actually kind of, sort of, maybe a little attracted to him.

Maybe I’d inhaled too much drywall dust and it had affected my brain.

“Are you going to ask me a favor or not?” I demanded, trying to cover up the flush I could feel spreading over my cheeks.

“All right, all right.” Rex shifted his eyes to the road. He hesitated for a beat, then said, “You know how Donny’s getting married next week?” Donny was Rex’s younger brother. He was New Elwood’s golden boy football player who left our little town to play at a big college and was subsequently drafted by the NFL. See my earlier comment about Montgomery blood. That family couldn’t help but live and breathe success.

Donny had recently injured his knee again, but from what I saw on social media, it hadn’t seemed to dampen his spirits.

“Yeah. Not that I ever got an invitation.” Nor did I care to attend. If there were two people who could make me feel like even more of a loser than I already did, it was Donny Montgomery, quarterback extraordinaire, and his beautiful, blond fiancée with two million followers on social media. New Elwood, Virginia’s very own power couple, not that they spent any time here. From what I could tell, their life was as perfect as mine was not.

Word was, the wedding was happening at the local botanical gardens, which backed up to my house. If I really wanted to see little Donny Montgomery get married, I could do so fromthe comfort of my own home through the back window. Who wanted to eat dry chicken breasts wearing a tight, synthetic dress when I could make a fresh batch of microwave popcorn and wear my bathrobe?

We stopped at a red light, and Rex glanced over, flashing his megawatt smile. “Well, you’ve got an invite now!”

I shot him a look. “Excuse me?”

The light changed. Rex gripped the steering wheel as he turned onto the next street. “Simple, Abigail. I need you to come to the wedding with me.”

“Go to the wedding with you…as your date?” I clarified. Sixteen-year-old me’s heart exploded. Thirty-two-year-old me considered the proposition. I could put on a tight dress for that. If it would clear this pesky favor I owed Rex and make me forget about my latest slip-up with the law, I could put on whatever dress he wanted me to wear. No problem.

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