Fighting the Flames (Firefighter Romance #1)(44)

“Oh, hush,” Jacqueline said with a laugh despite her large boobs. “He's never looked at my breasts.” Toby had never looked at her at all, had he?

“Not when you were paying attention,” Angela answered her unspoken question.

Jacqueline sipped her wine, casting a stealthy peek at Toby. He braced his arms on the bar and spoke with some guys. Shit. She was probably crazy but could not deny the small crush she had on him.

“Uh-oh.” Angela paled as she clutched her stomach. “I don't feel so good. I think I need to make a pit stop at the bathroom.”

“Okay.” Jacqueline watched her friend stagger off toward the ladies' room, knowing that Angela would spend the next few minutes worshipping the porcelain god as she threw up all the alcohol she'd consumed. “Drunk bitch.”

The older lady sitting two stools down from Jacqueline glared at her and stuck up her middle finger. A small smile played on her lips despite the rude gesture.

“I didn't mean you, Matilda,” Jacqueline said with a shake of her head. “You're just a drunk.”

Matilda, a bar staple drank herself drunk every night; she nodded and returned to nursing her beer. Her shoulders hunched and sloped forward. Jacqueline had often wondered how old the other woman was. Fifty? Sixty? Hard to tell as the lines on Matilda’s face deepened every day. Black hair had long streaks of gray. Had they been there a year ago when they’d first met? Jacqueline didn't think so, but she couldn't remember.

So much about the last year had been a blur. So many things had changed. Except for the depression clinging to her like bad perfume, it coated her with such a heavy feeling that Jacqueline often woke up in the middle of the night gasping for air. Her doctor blamed anxiety attacks, but deep down, she knew it was something more, something her doctor couldn't begin to understand.

Inside of her something was changing, had been changing ever since her husband died.

Before she could dwell on the thought, a loud blare of banjos burst from the jukebox. Mumford and Sons started playing the opening notes to “Little Lion Man.” A loud collective groan ran through the bar.


“Closing time,” Toby shouted, cranking up the tune. People stirred from their seats, some tossing money down at the bar or on their tables. A few regulars, familiar with the song, grabbed a partner and danced to the jaunty folk melody.

Sitting at the bar, Jacqueline hummed along and watched the Wilsons pay their tab. Belinda and Sean Wilson were the bar's resident fighting couple. They started out each night docile and calm, but as the evening wore on and the liquor flowed more freely, the couple invariably started to argue. Usually the quarrel was about Belinda's inability to stop flirting with other guys or women. Regardless, they were always entertaining, as long as they didn't drag her into the disagreement.

Tonight they were debating about the blouse Belinda had chosen to wear; a brilliant yellow that stood out in the dim bar and dipped low to show a fair amount of cleavage. Jacqueline eyed Toby, wondering if he preferred Belinda’s ample bosom, but his gaze focused on her.

“You wouldn't be cold if you'd cover up a little bit,” Sean said, pulling his money out, and Jacqueline’s attention.

“I am covered.” Belinda crossed her arms and tossed her black hair.

“Everyone can see your tits.”

“No, they can't. You can because you're standing close to me.”

“Belinda, everyone can see your goodies. Everyone! You might as well just flash the whole damn bar and be done with it.” Sean glared.

Jacqueline let out a low whistle, already knowing what was coming next. Putting ideas into Belinda's drunken little brain was never good.

“Fine.” As Sean counted out his money, Belinda took her top off, revealing that she wore no bra underneath. Jacqueline’s eyes widened and she covered her mouth. Belinda tapped Sean on the shoulder and raised her arms so that her naked breasts thrusted forward. “What do you think? Is that better?”

The customers eyeing Belinda's bare bosom cheered but Jacqueline giggled, shaking her head at the woman.

“Dammit,” Sean swore.

“Belinda.” Toby's voice shouted above the blaring music. “Put your shirt on, or I'll throw your ass out, and keep the shirt inside.” Another cheer went up from the crowd, which Toby silenced with a glare but he couldn’t hid the pink in his cheeks. “Sean, man up and get your woman out of here.”

With a sigh, Sean pushed Belinda out the door as she struggled to put her shirt back on.

“Everybody out,” Toby hollered. The color extended as pink reached his neck and ears. “The boobs are outside now.”

“Wow.” Jacqueline chuckled at how fast everyone exited the bar. “That was some craziness.”

Toby glowered at her. “What are you still doing sitting there? I told everyone to get out.”

She’d mistaken embarrassment for anger. Her voice small, she said, “I'm waiting for Angela. She's in the bathroom.”

“You get five minutes. Then I'm going in the bathroom to drag her out by her hair.” Jacqueline flinched.

“What are you, a caveman? Have you been watching too much Game of Thrones again?”

Toby said nothing, but by the way he was tossing bottles into the trashcan, he’d reconstructed his icy walls.