Light up the Night (Firehouse Three #2)(4)

“Jesus,” she said, her voice shaky and thin.

“Sorry,” said the kid at Drake’s side. “I couldn’t get him to come down, and I’m scared of heights.”

“Why don’t you climb down and let me give it a shot?” Drake said to the woman. Her feet, clad in scuffed white and gray sneakers, were scraping against the trunk and finding zero purchase.

“Um, I might have a problem,” she said, her face red as she twisted. One hand rested on the branch against her belly, and the other gripped a higher limb. Her knuckles were turning white with effort. “I think I might be stuck.”

Drake moved around the trunk, shielding his eyes as he looked up. Well, f*ck. A broken limb had caught the back of her shirt, revealing the straps of her lacy, black bra. There were no branches beneath her to give her the option of pushing up for long enough to get herself free.

And she was still too high up in the tree for Drake to climb up and get her down. Those flimsy branches were barely strong enough to hold her, and she was a smallish woman. They’d snap under his weight in a heartbeat.

“I’ve got a buddy who might be able to help. Can you hang on up there for a few minutes?”

She shot him an exasperated look. “What choice do I have?”

“None, really,” he said with a wry grin as he pulled his phone from his pocket. Her grunts of exertion as she kicked fruitlessly were nice background noise as the call connected.

“Hunter? You’re pulling a double shift, right? Can you come over? I’ve got a Code *cat at 816 Ashland Lane. Oh, and there’s a cat in the tree, too.”

The glare she shot him was so delicious, and when he winked at her, the murder in her eyes made him laugh.

Oh, she was a live one, all right.





2.

Shame heated Everly’s face, her ears, hell, even her hair had to be glowing bright red. She’d never been so embarrassed in her life. Not even during sixth grade graduation, when her mom had insisted on taking her picture in the front of the classroom. The boys in the front row had laughed at her non-stop, and she’d only figured out later that it was because there was lipstick on her cheek from where her mom had kissed her in congratulations. Even that wasn’t this bad, and that was saying something.

A noise from down below broke through the haze of mortification, and she looked down. The hottie who’d shown up at just the wrong time, a.k.a., the meathead jerk, was laughing. Those brawny arms were folded over his muscled chest, and his too-handsome face was wreathed in a smile as his shoulders shook.

She was still red everywhere, but her humiliation had burnt to a crisp in the flames of white-hot anger. Oh, now she was pissed. How dare he laugh at her? Her teeth ground together so hard they hurt.

Distraction. She had to think of something else, other than the male chuckles floating their way up to her, otherwise she might just commit homicide.

The young cat she’d been trying to rescue had calmed down some, and was just chilling in the higher branches, keeping a wary and disdainful eye on her. Everly puffed air straight upward in an attempt to get her bangs out of her eyes. It didn’t work. The cat yawned.

“This is your fault,” she said with no heat. After all, it really wasn’t the cat’s doing. When she’d greeted the teenager at the front counter and he’d explained that the kitty had escaped the cardboard box when he’d gotten out of his car, of course she’d come out to help him catch it. Poor thing had been dumped on the side of the road and if not for this kid’s kindness, it would have become another case of roadkill.

She shouldn’t have climbed up here after the damn thing, though. But he had been on a low branch, just out of her reach, so she’d climbed up. The cat had gone higher, and now here she was with her clothing snarled up in shards of broken wood and two curious males keeping their eyes on her from the ground below.

Mor. Ti. Fying.

Breathe, cupcake, just breathe. The inner mantra helped a little, and she closed her eyes to focus on drawing clean air into her lungs.

“So, is it your cat?”

“No, I found it. Was just trying to help out, but the box came open.”

Everly looked down just in time to catch the teenager’s shrug. Meathead was standing there opposite the kid, his muscled arms still folded, looking for all the world like he was prepared to shoot the shit for the rest of the afternoon.

“When is your friend coming?” As much as she hated to draw any attention to herself in this situation, she couldn’t stand waiting much longer. The branch was digging into her palm, most of her bodyweight was on her stomach, and her shirt was caught on something. “Not that I’m super ready to get down from here or anything.”

“Don’t worry,” said the jerk. The twinkle in his eye was obvious even at a distance. “You’ll be down in just a second.”

He nodded toward the parking lot entrance. The rumble of a massive fire engine met her ears. It was rolling into the parking lot—her parking lot—lights flashing, but no siren, thankfully. The rotten liar. He hadn’t called his friend. He’d called the damn fire department.

“Fuck.” As the word left her mouth, she realized she’d spoken out loud.

“Something wrong, Miss Tarzan?”

If she ever got down out of this tree, and didn’t die of mortification in the process, she would cheerfully murder this jackoff. It didn’t matter if he was as handsome as that guy with a puppy that Allison had snapped pictures of. Any jury in the nation would acquit her for this.