Light up the Night (Firehouse Three #2)(3)

The guys had been giving him hell. Typical for a newbie, but the last four days had been pretty eventful, even for a vet like Drake. They’d tossed him in the gator pit and hosed him down. Shit, they’d even forced him to model for some charity promotional photo, he wasn’t even sure what for. But he could take it. It wasn’t the first hazing he’d been through, but he sure as hell hoped it’d be the last.

“There’s the post office,” he muttered to himself, making a mental note as he pulled to a stop at the light. “Drugstore, liquor store, bank…” His mental map marked, he took the opportunity to stretch while he waited for the light to turn green.

This was good. Maybe he was finally over the disappointment of missing out on his dream job.

His soft snort was barely audible over the sound of the radio.

No, he wasn’t over that yet. Of course, opportunities to head up a substation didn’t come often in his line of work, and to have missed it by just that much? Drake’s hand tightened on the steering wheel. He was still angry.

The chief back in Tucson, the father of one Belinda Pearce, former homecoming queen, Lambda Lambda Lambda pledge, and Miss Tucson runner-up—a.k.a. Drake’s girlfriend at the time— had promised him the new substation was his. But when the announcement went out that another firefighter from out of town with less experience had landed the job? Drake had been furious, but Chief Pearce had just shrugged.

Belinda had been sympathetic. As usual, though, after the initial oh-poor-babys she’d started in on him joining the Hammerfell family business. He wasn’t interested, and her relentless insistence finally put the last nails in the coffin of that relationship.

Drake had been adrift. The only thing he’d ever wanted to do was be a firefighter, but he was feeling stuck. Then, out of the blue he’d gotten the call. Hunter, his estranged best friend, told him about the opportunity to join a new firehouse, in a new state, and start over. It had been the change he needed.

His family wasn’t interested in him. They’d already written him off since he’d pissed on his inheritance by refusing the job offer in their conglomerate. Belinda hadn’t wanted to let him go, but that relationship was over.

Packing up and leaving Tucson was definitely the right call. Even with the misery and shit his new crewmates were cheerfully serving up. The hazing wouldn’t last—the guys were already treating him like one of the team. When they weren’t giving him hell, that is.

Drake’s phone buzzed in his pocket. With a glance at the still-red light, he pulled his phone free.

Belinda’s smiling face looked up at him. He hit the power button to shut off the screen. Nope. He wasn’t about to listen to another twenty-minute tirade about his decision to move away from her, how hard she was finding it to be on her own, how awkward it was to tell her friends that the guy she’d picked to marry had broken up with her and left the state.

He and Belinda were over, and had been for months. He’d been as clear as he could with her, but she refused to give in. Eventually, she’d figure out that he wasn’t coming back. He’d been blinded by her looks at first, but it hadn’t taken him long to realize she’d been used to everyone handing her everything she wanted, and she expected Drake to continue that trend for the rest of their lives.

With his mood tainted, he frowned and stepped on the gas, cruising under the green light. Maybe he should head back to his new apartment and grab his gym bag. He had worked out that morning, but another few miles on the treadmill might clear his head.

Swinging a left at the next intersection, he traveled down the shady street. It was cute down here. Quaint. Older houses were spread far apart, green lawns and neatly trimmed hedges giving it a homey feel. Before long, the houses disappeared and gave way to businesses, new construction and concrete taking over where the greenery and coziness ended.

At the next light, he flipped his turn signal on again and waited. Glancing over his shoulder, he read the sign on the corner.

“Hopeful Paws.” Hm. That sounded familiar for some reason. Well, if he ever got lonely, he knew where to find a furry friend. Several cars were parked in front of the building, but a lonely tree on the far end of the lot drew his attention. That was weird. A tall kid was holding an open cardboard box by his side, shielding his eyes as he looked up into the top of the canopy. Drake followed his gaze, and blinked. Then blinked again.

Was that… someone in the tree?

A car horn behind him wrenched his glance away, and he moved through the intersection with an apologetic wave, navigating his pickup into Hopeful Paws’ parking lot. He cut the engine and climbed out of the cab.

Well, f*ck.

At the top of a Bradford pear, in the skinny branches that really weren’t meant for holding any kind of weight, was a lithe, dark-haired woman who was reaching a hand out to a fluffy, black kitten who clung to a limb just out of her reach. The wood beneath her left foot bent dangerously far as she leaned further.

“Wait,” Drake said, walking fast toward the tree. “It’s going to—”

Before he could get the words out, the branch beneath her foot snapped, and a brief cry of surprise escaped her as she plummeted earthward. He surged forward, but she grabbed a thicker limb and halted her quick descent. Her midsection connected with a branch beneath her, her breath exiting in an audible huff.

“Goddamn,” Drake breathed as the adrenaline surged through his system, giving him the full-body tingles. His hands were still in the air as if his body wasn’t completely convinced that she wasn’t about to eat the pavement. Gritting his teeth, he planted a palm on the trunk of the tree just beneath her, watching as she stilled.