Controlled Burn- To Publish Read online

  So now, for the time being, I was living in an apartment that I hated.

  Why did I hate it?

  Because apartments were loud.

  The people didn’t care about anyone but themselves, and I loathed that.

  Especially my neighbor. She was loud and obnoxious, and I was fairly sure she was purposefully yelling at the top of her lungs in the middle of the night.

  Not to mention she had tons of loud sex, and it was annoying. Nobody had sex that good.

  Topping the last step of the crappiest staircase in Kilgore, I made my way down the hall.

  I was in the very last apartment, meaning not only did I have the furthest to walk, but I also had to walk past all the doors that randomly liked to pop open with men soliciting me for services I wasn’t offering.

  Thankfully, I didn’t have any of that today, and I made it to my door without a problem.

  Putting the key into my lock, I twisted it and pushed my apartment door open, sighing when my cat, Mr. Feathers, came running up to me.

  He was a Sphynx, one of those hairless cats that resembled a mutant, but I loved him.

  “Hello, Mr. Feathers,” I called.

  Mr. Feathers curled his large girth around my ankles, and I smiled as I bent down and picked him up.

  “Are you hungry, big boy?” I asked him, walking to the fridge.

  What I saw—or didn’t see—inside made me groan.

  I’d forgotten to go to the store on the way home, and there was no way in hell I could ignore it like I had last night. I hadn’t had lunch. Or breakfast for that matter.

  Now, I had no choice but to go back out and get some food into my empty belly, or I might very well perish from low blood sugar.

  “Noooo,” I groaned, slamming the fridge closed with impatience.

  Dropping Mr. Feathers onto the counter and bending down to grab a can of his cat food out of the bottom cabinet, I glared at him.

  Mr. Feathers purred as he wound his way through all of my kitchen appliances, excitement over his impending meal giving him a little more spring to his step.

  Grabbing his bowl out of the sink, I washed then dried it before opening the can and dumping the disgusting contents into the bowl, even going as far as to nuke it for twenty seconds to ensure it was warm enough for him.

  He purred loudly as I placed it onto the counter in front of him, then promptly devoured it like a lion does his kill.

  “Pig,” I muttered, walking back to my purse and grabbing my keyring.

  Keys in hand, I exited just as quickly as I’d entered, hurrying past all my neighbors’ doors and getting lucky twice in one night.

  “Score!” I cried happily as I ran down the stairs to my truck.

  I was just to the door when I happened to look in the mirror, then promptly winced.

  With nothing else to do about my appearance now, unless I wanted to brave the hallway again, I got into the truck, ignoring the way I looked, and hurried out of the parking lot.

  Instead of going to the grocery store, though, I went to the diner.

  I was hungry now, and I knew if I went to the grocery store while I was hungry, I’d buy everything in sight. Not to mention, I would then have to make at least ten trips up and down the stairs, and Lord knew I didn’t want to court the inevitable come-ons from my male neighbors as I did it.

  It was a tossup, though. Especially when I pulled into the parking lot of the diner and saw the familiar red fire engine taking up the back row of parking spots.

  But I wanted a burger, and the diner was one of the only places in town, besides Whataburger, that served a burger at this hour.

  Whataburger was out. My eyes had gone to the parking lot on the way past, and I knew that wasn’t an option.

  “Shit,” I said, praying my good luck would hold, and today wouldn’t be a day that PD was on shift.

  Unfortunately, my luck ran out.

  I knew the instant I walked inside that PD was there.

  He was always at work, which was a huge part of why we broke up.

  On top of him taking a job with the SWAT team, he never said no to someone who wanted him to take over their shift. If he was off, it never failed that someone asked him to take over. And if he hadn’t managed to fill his free time with a shift, a fucking SWAT call would drop, taking him away from me anyway.

  And ugh! My clothes!

  I looked like a trashy woman!

  Seriously, could I have worn anything worse?

  But I couldn’t help it that I still had my work clothes on, could I?

  No.

  I couldn’t.

  So, sucking in my gut as well as my courage, I walked into the diner with my head held high.

  You can take the girl out of the trailer park, but you can’t take the trailer park out of the girl.

  Well, mostly.

  I played a good game.

  Keeping my eyes forward since I knew he was there, I kept walking, being careful to not look at anyone or anything but where I intended to sit.

  Which was right in the front, so I wouldn’t see anybody looking at me.

  That way, when people spoke or looked, I wouldn’t have anything to look at but the door.

  I’d learned, over the years, how to protect myself.

  Not that Kilgore was as bad as Uncertain, because it wasn’t. It was just ingrained at this point in my life not to bring any more attention to myself than was needed.

  I’d also learned to steel my heart since Dean had left.

  The man that was currently sitting in the back of the room with his friends and colleagues from the fire department.

  A year ago, had this happened, I would’ve turned around and left. I wouldn’t have been able to make it through dinner knowing he was right there.

  That was when I was broken, though.

  Dean Uriel Hargrove—call me Dean and Dean only because Paula Deen aka PD isn’t something I want you to call me—had ripped my heart out and declared me too soft for his lifestyle.

  But he didn’t know.

  Nobody knew.

  And when I tried to tell him, he’d given me soft, pitying eyes and sent me on my way without another word or glance back.

  That was the day that that version of July Roxanne Amsel ceased to exist.

  Smoothing my denim—not anywhere close to knee length—shorts down my legs, I stared ahead and waited for the waitress to get there.

  Lucky for me, she didn’t take long.

  But that was also because she was my best friend.

  She looked at me sympathetically as she walked up, surreptitiously looking over her shoulder as she poured me a glass of water.

  The bottom of the glass was filled about half way with lemon slices, and I smiled.

  “Thank you,” I murmured softly.

  She tucked her tray underneath her arm and stared down at me.

  “Why are you here?” Desiree asked. “Do you just like torturing yourself?”

  I looked at my glass.

  Maybe I did.

  Pain…it felt like my old friend.

  I didn’t think I would know how to exist without it at this point.

  “I’m hungry,” I told her softly. “And this is the only place open besides the Whataburger, and I just saw the away football team walk in there on my way down the road.”

  She looked across the street and winced.

  “Yeah,” she grumbled. “I saw that. I still would’ve waited in line over there rather than torturing myself over here.”

  I snorted.

  “Like you would know what torture is,” I said honestly. “Your husband is about as good as they come.”

  And he was.

  He was pretty much perfect.

  I had yet to meet a man that was anywhere near as perfect as Able Jackson.

  Then again, Able Jackson was a rare breed, indeed. A badass, hot, and a genuinely great guy.

  He
was also one of Dean’s good friends, and I hadn’t seen him as much as I used to since Dean and I had broken up.

  Desiree had been the one to suffer for that, and I constantly felt bad about it.

  I just couldn’t go over to her house like I used to, though, because he was always there.

  Able Jackson was a firefighter with the Kilgore Fire Department, but he usually worked a different shift than Dean. They’d met while in passing during shift change, but they were now really good friends. When they weren’t at work, they were hanging out together at each other’s houses.

  Able, Dean and Bowe, another KFD firefighter, had started flipping houses in their spare time. They continued to do it now in their time off.

  “Earth to July,” Des snapped her fingers at me. “Your head is in the clouds.”

  I stuck my tongue out at her.

  “Shut up and get me my food, I’m starving,” I informed her.

  She snorted and walked away, tossing another look in the direction of the firefighters at the back of the room before disappearing behind the door that led to the kitchens.

  I pulled out the paperback—yes, I said paperback—that I’d picked up at the gas station today while filling up my gas guzzling truck, and I crossed my feet on the bench seat across from me.

  I was nearly a whole chapter in when the first firefighter passed me.

  I swallowed and kept my eyes on the book, despite the fact that I wanted to look up and wave.

  Tai tapped my table with his knuckles as he passed, and I lifted a hand but kept my eyes on the book I was reading.

  They were used to this, though. I’d always done it, even when I’d been with Dean.

  Bowe was the next firefighter to pass, and he did the same as the man before him.

  I lifted my hand again, but froze when I heard a woman say, “Who the heck is that, and why are they messing with her?”

  I couldn’t help it.

  I looked up.

  And sat stunned when I saw the woman practically hanging on Dean.

  Dean’s eyes were on me, completely blank, as he waited at the counter to pay his bill.

  “Old friend,” he muttered to the woman at his side.

  I caught his eyes, and I couldn’t help the hurt I’m sure was shining in my eyes at hearing him refer to me as just an ‘old friend.’

  I was about as far away from being just an ‘old friend’ of his as one could get.

  I quickly looked away and went back to my book, trying hard not to let the tears that were clogging my throat slide out.

  Chapter 2

  I decided to put as much effort into contacting you as you put into contacting me—that’s why we don’t anymore.

  -Dean to July

  Dean

  I knew those legs.

  Knew that ass.

  July was that woman that had hips that were a flawless example of the female form.

  Her body was pear shaped.

  She had hips that were wide and curvy, but fit.

  They were what my mother liked to call ‘child birthing hips.’

  And her tiny waist perfectly accentuated those hips.

  Then there were her thighs.

  They were thicker than what you saw on those skeleton-thin models in magazines, continuing the full line of her hips as they tapered down to her knees. The woman worked them effortlessly and unknowingly, never noticing the male heads she left turning in her wake.

  Her breasts were small, surprisingly so considering her rounded bottom. Less than a handful, the barely filled my palm. Firm with small, pale pink nipples, they were what I considered to be perfect.

  I used to love attaching nipple clamps to them, then taking them off long minutes later and teasing them with different things—a feather, a leather riding crop, ice cubes, a vibrator just to see how she responded.

  “Hello?” A woman’s voice broke into my contemplation of the ass that used to be mine. “Earth to PD.”

  I turned my eyes to Naomi, and my cock, which had been rock hard only moments before, instantly lost some of its eagerness.

  Naomi was a student paramedic and a woman that was starting to get on my last nerve.

  “Yeah?” I asked, trying to contain my annoyance.

  “You okay?” she asked softly.

  I nodded.

  “I am,” I lied.

  I wasn’t okay.

  The one woman who still had the power to bring me to my knees, even though she didn’t know it, had walked into the same diner as me.

  And I hadn’t been able to keep my eyes off her since.

  In fact, this was the first time in over a year that we’d been in such close proximity.

  Seems I still had absolutely no control where July Roxanne Amsel was concerned.

  Something that was proven to me time and time again. Each and every time she came within my line of sight, my will-power disintegrated.

  “Your eyes are all weird,” she said. “Are you running a fever?”

  She placed her hand on my cheek, and I instantly recoiled from her touch.

  Her eyes flashed with hurt, but I couldn’t find it in myself to care much.

  I’d tried, I really did, but I couldn’t find that spark I needed with her.

  Mainly because that spark already belonged to July, and I highly doubted that I’d ever be able to feel it for anyone besides her.

  The one woman I couldn’t have.

  A woman who hated my job. Hated what I considered to be my calling in life, my passion.

  A woman that made me feel like shit each and every time I wanted to spend time with friends, left to be on shift, or picked up a SWAT call.

  You know why she did. Her brother was shot because he was a cop, and she didn’t know if he’d live for nearly a week. She has trouble with dangerous jobs. Why are you surprised about that?

  Naomi bumped me, bringing me out of my contemplation of July’s actions.

  “You paid up?” I asked Naomi.

  Naomi’s eyes, looking from between me and July, went wide, and then closed down as understanding dawned.

  July didn’t see the look, though, seeing as she had her nose buried in a damned book like she always did.

  I could see the tears dripping from her chin, though.

  Mainly because I was watching her breasts rise and fall in that thing she called a shirt.

  Her tiny breasts heaving with her fight to hold back her tears.

  I couldn’t help what I did next.

  Her tears were my undoing. They always were.

  It’s why I caved whenever she cried, losing my ability to stay mad.

  Those tears dried up after our relationship ended, as far as I could tell, leaving the woman before me now, a hollow version of her former self.

  My legs carried me to her table, and I couldn’t help but grab her chin with three fingertips and turn her head to face mine, and my breath caught at seeing those tears leaking from her eyes.

  My gaze stayed locked with hers.

  Those beautiful pale blue eyes of hers swimming with tears had my heart thumping erratically in my chest.

  “Stop,” I demanded.

  She swallowed, but the tears that had been flowing just poured out of her eyes faster.

  “Get away from her,” Des snarled from behind me. “Stop touching her and get out of here before there’s a scene.”

  I swept my thumb over her cheek, wiping away the tears.

  But new tears replaced them just as fast, and I stopped.

  “Stop,” I ordered again.

  Her breath caught, and the tears slowed.

  I nodded my head.

  “Good girl.”

  Her eyes closed, and I let go of her chin.

  “Don’t cry,” I murmured.

  She shook her head, and I was barely able to stop myself from demanding that she ‘use her words.’

  That was one of the challenges of bei
ng with July.

  When she got upset, she stopped talking.

  It wasn’t something I understood, either. I’d never gotten her to tell me why she’d clam up like that—losing the ability to use her words.

  It’d been on my to-do list to find out why, but we’d never made it that far.

  We fell in love, hard and fast, and we’d spent most of our time fucking like bunnies when we weren’t doing this or that. There was never any time for talking in the six months we’d had together.

  And I regretted that greatly.

  Especially since I was wishing she would say something instead of just shutting down like she always did.

  When she opened her eyes once again, they were clear of tears; the only evidence that she’d been crying were the tracks that were running down her cheeks.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  She pulled her chin away from me gently, flicked her eyes back toward Naomi, who was at my back, and promptly turned away from me to study her book once again.

  She wasn’t really reading, though.

  I could tell when she was involved in reading.

  Her finger would automatically go to her hair, and she’d twirl a lock of it around her finger as her eyes ate up the pages. When she turned the page, she would move that lock to her lips, holding it in place with them as she turned the page, and then immediately go back to twirling it between with her fingers again.

  But, she wasn’t doing that now, so I knew she was using the book as a shield to hide from me.

  So I gave her that out, and I turned and walked out the door without another word.

  I felt Naomi close at my back, but needing some time to myself, I walked over to Tai who was standing next to the truck.

  “Will you take the ambulance from me for a while?” I asked him.

  Tai knew without me having to tell him what I needed, and he nodded.

  “Sure,” he agreed.

  I got into his seat in the truck and buckled my seatbelt, staring forward as the rest of the guys piled in around me.

  Booth, the newest member on A shift, got into the seat beside me but didn’t say a word.

  Booth was the quiet type. He rarely ever got into anyone’s business unless he thought it was absolutely necessary.