Page 34 of Reckless
“Come on, Everett. She had a rough day,” Alex said, modulating his voice to its easiest setting despite Cole’s implication. His main reason for going over and talking to Zoe in the first place had been because he’d owed her an apology, not that he could tell Cole that. Even so, letting her sit there all by herself would’ve been rude. “She just felt like blowing off steam and she doesn’t really know anyone else in Fairview. We were only talking. That’s all.”
“That’s all,” Cole repeated, and the words weren’t a question.
Alex’s fingers curled tight at his sides, his molars locking together with a soft clack. “If you’ve got something to say, get to saying it.”
One light brown brow lifted, and damn it. What was it about Zoe Westin that threw Alex so roundly out of whack?
“Look,” Cole said, taking a step back like the peace-keeper he was. “I’m not trying to jump in your shit, and I don’t make a habit of telling people what to do. Least of all, you. But I wouldn’t be doing my job as your best friend or your fellow firefighter if I didn’t point out that you’re heading toward dangerous waters. I know you like to tempt fate, and I also get why. But one of these days, if you’re not careful, karma is going to knock you clean on your ass.”
“My tempting fate has nothing to do with Zoe, and that’s exactly how it’s going to stay.” As much as Alex wanted to find a way around the words, he also knew he couldn’t. “Look, I’m not stupid, man. I know the score. But I’m also not going to turn a blind eye if she needs a good vent. Really. What’s going on between me and Zoe is nothing personal.”
“You sure about that?” Cole asked, and this time there was leeway in his voice.
Alex took it without thinking twice. “After everything the old man did for me? Absolutely.”
He belonged at the firehouse, and the firehouse alone. No matter how much a wicked little part of him still wanted her—and wanted her badly—Alex knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that his karma couldn’t have anything to do with Zoe Westin.
13
Zoe slung the thick strap of her messenger bag over one shoulder, the keys to Hope House’s back door jingling against her palm as she made her way to the entrance and put them to work first on the dead bolt, then on the bottom lock. She had to admit, getting breakfast together was a whole lot easier with Alex on the schedule, and even though he’d probably put in the bare minimum because she’d lost their bet, it was still more help than she had on most days.
Better company, too.
Zoe’s normally confident stride faltered into a stutter-step as she crossed the back threshold to the kitchen. Okay, so she’d let loose with way more personal information than she’d meant to two nights ago at Bellyflop, and Alex had shocked the hell out of her not just by being a good listener, but by actually seeming to get how she felt even though he’d offered up a different viewpoint. But he was still a firefighter, one of her father’s to boot, and that meant Alex took risks for a living in addition to taking them for fun. She simply couldn’t put herself on the line by getting involved with a guy like him. No matter how good she’d felt when he’d put his hand over hers and listened like he knew exactly how she felt.
No matter how badly she wanted his hands in other places, too.
“Good morning,” came the rumble of a very smooth, very male voice, and Zoe let out a graceless yelp and flail combo while cranking her fists in a knee-jerk defensive maneuver.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold on there, slugger.” Alex stepped directly into her line of vision, holding up both hands in surrender. “It’s just me, your kitchen jockey.”
A moderately unladylike curse chased the shock from Zoe’s veins. “Jeez, Alex! What are you doing here so early?” It was barely six in the morning, for God’s sake.
“I’m broadening my horizons,” he said, the obvious gleam in his bright blue eyes heating her cheeks along with a couple of places due south despite the unease she knew his words should trigger.
“That sounds dangerous.” She released her death grip on her keys, slipping them into her bag before covering the handful of steps toward her office. Alex’s boots kept time with her Danskos on the floor tiles, but he waited until she’d stowed her belongings and started moving toward the kitchen before coming out with an answer.
“It is, but I promise you’ll like this kind of danger.”
“The last time you said that, I lost a bet,” Zoe reminded him, snagging a clean apron from one of the hooks by the dishwasher, realizing only belatedly that it matched the one molded over Alex’s FFD T-shirt.
“Yeah, about that. Since you need the help, and I’ve got nothing but time for three more weeks, I was thinking we could call it a draw and you could teach me how to cook, after all.”
“I’m sorry. What?” She froze into place, one hundred percent certain she’d mis-heard him, but Alex gestured to the copy of the weekly menu posted on the wall outside the pantry, and holy shit, he was serious.
“Today’s breakfast is bacon and scrambled eggs with vegetables, right? That sounds pretty good, and I figure it wouldn’t hurt me to know how to make a decent hot breakfast. If you’re still willing to teach me, that is.”
Zoe closed her mouth. Opened it again. Closed it once more before forcing herself to say, “I am, but what’s the catch?”
Alex laughed, long and loud, and she heard the less-than-polite implication only after the question had popped out.
“You know what, I’m sorry. That was?—”
“Honest,” he supplied, flipping a dish towel over one shoulder. “And also well deserved, because as it just so happens, I’m not entirely without motive. I came early to help in the kitchen, but I also wanted to ask you about something.”
She moved toward the small sink at the back of the prep space, giving her hands a good scrub down before waiting for Alex to do the same. “Okay. I’ll play. What’s got your attention so much that you’re willing to make breakfast for it?”
“Have you ever heard of the Collingsworth Grant?”
