Flames from Ashes Read online

  He nudged her chin up with the tip of his finger until her gaze locked with his. “Right now, we’re together, and we’re having a baby.”

  “We can’t—”

  “We can. As long as we’re together, we can do anything, face anything, one step at a time.”

  Another united front, because that’s the kind of man Clint was.

  Sandy sighed. “You’re going to come under fire once her family learns about me.” They’d be scrutinized from all directions.

  “You’re worth it.” He kissed the tip of her nose, then rolled out of bed. “Come on. Now I’m starving.”

  She admired his ass as he bent to retrieve his jeans. Her clothes were somewhere between the bathroom and the bed, strewn all over the place. Realizing that unnerved her. Sandy liked her things where she could grab them in an emergency. Neat and orderly. Everything in its place.

  “We need some house rules.” She crawled from bed and reached for her panties and shorts, tossed to the carpet in a moment of lust. That made her smile. “For both our houses.”

  A frown creased the space between his eyebrows. “What kind of rules?”

  “Gird your loins, Clifford. You’re about to get your first full-on fire-safety lecture.”

  “Lucky me.” Sarcasm weighed his words. “Tell it to me in the kitchen.”

  He landed a soft pat to her ass before heading into the bathroom, clothes in hand. She gathered her things, slipped her silky pink robe on, and waited for her turn to clean up. His phone rang the minute he came out of the bathroom. Scowling, he pulled it from his pocket.

  “Talk about crazy families.” Clint swiped his thumb over the screen. “Yes, Dad.”

  “Where the hell are you? You took the day off.” His deep voice thundered over the speaker.

  Clint walked toward the kitchen. “It’s my business. I can take a day or two when I need it. Tommy’s got things under control.”

  “You know…”

  Sandy ducked into the bathroom, cutting off the rest of the conversation. She should probably call her mother. God only knew what was going to come out of her mouth, or her father’s, or her brothers’. A headache bloomed behind her eyes. Her stomach started to churn. Maybe Clint was right—stress was a major factor in how she felt. Considering the leap forward the two of them had made, was the stress going to ease or get worse? Who was going to believe they’d been together for two months when neither of them had told a soul? Well, she had told Erica everything yesterday. That would help ease any hurt feelings where the firefighter family was concerned. Erica was a good friend to that family. They’d all lucked out in that regard when she’d married Keith. It was the only benefit, because marriage to Keith had wound up being a curse for Erica. Thankfully, that was at an end. But they still got to keep Erica, because Mike Barnard was never letting her go now that he had her.

  Erica had understood Sandy’s need for privacy but not why she’d kept Clint in the dark. Still, she hadn’t lectured. Neither would the people she worked with.

  Sandy finished cleaning up, dressed, and splashed some cold water on her face. It helped a little but not much. Food held little appeal, especially the cheeseburger she’d craved minutes before. Hopefully she could catch Clint before he started cooking. Voices hit her as soon as she opened the bathroom door. He was still on Speaker with his father.

  “It’s twelve hundred acres of nothing, Dad. If the solar company wants to buy it, let them. The wells went dry years ago. The house is falling apart. The only thing worth anything is the old barn. I don’t know how Chuck and Annie lived there as long as they did with all those kids.”

  “It’s the old homestead. A family legacy,” his father argued.

  “It’s a death trap and a tax burden. It’s a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

  “It’s not so bad. Chuck boarded up the house and barn years ago. No one can get in there without keys.”

  “Or a crowbar.”

  “We need to have a family vote. It’s only fair,” his father replied.

  “I could argue that point, but fine. We’ll get the family together and vote this week. SunSpots needs an answer soon, or the deal’s off.”

  “It’ll take a bit to get everyone—”

  “Everyone? You, me, Mom, Chuck, and Tommy. I’m sure the five of us can find a day.”

  “What about Annie?”

  Sandy walked into the kitchen in time to see the tick in Clint’s tight jaw. He pulled in a very slow breath and let it out with equal measure.

  “Aren’t she and Chuck a package deal?” he replied.

  His father mumbled something indecipherable.

  “My house. Thursday evening. Six,” Clint told him. “Good?”

  “I don’t know.” He drew the words out as if pondering, or dragging his heels. “That’s right around dinner.”

  Clint’s jaw ticked again. “I’ll have dinner for everyone.”

  “Fine. I’ll tell your mother.”

  Clint rolled his eyes as he disconnected. “Families.”

  Sandy snickered. “Tell me about it. I’m almost afraid to turn my phone back on.” But she should and she would. It wasn’t right to leave her family in a hyper state of anxiety. They loved her. They had odd ways of showing it at times, but they loved her.

  “I’ll get started on those cheeseburgers.” He pushed away from the counter but stopped when she sucked in a breath. “Change your mind?” He tilted his head to one side.

  Had she? Now she wasn’t sure.

  Clint chuckled. “Let’s give it a shot. They can always go in the fridge. And I am hungry.”

  “I’ll work on the veggies. I’ve got a couple of beers in the back of the fridge. Make them disappear.” She couldn’t drink them, and after that conversation with his father, Clint could probably use a drink.

  “I won’t argue.” He opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of Dos Equis along with what food they needed, then took position beside her at the counter.

  They might not know their way around each other’s bedrooms, but they were all over each other’s kitchens and had been since the first night she’d cooked for him. Since then, by unspoken decision, they’d switched off on the cooking. If there was a night she was off-shift, they were together for dinner. They stood side by side at the counter, she slicing tomatoes while he molded hamburger patties in his large hands.

  “I like this,” he said. “When we do stuff together.”

  “Me too.” The comfort, the companionship, the fact they didn’t have to say a word and still be content in each other’s company.

  “I hate your on-shift nights, you know.”

  Lately, she wasn’t fond of them either. That had a lot to do with Keith’s occasional presence, but it was also because she missed Clint.

  “I tense up every time I hear sirens,” he said. “Afraid a fire call would be your last.”

  Little had he realized the danger she faced from a member of her own crew. She sure hadn’t. Sandy turned his way and placed her hand on his biceps. “I’m careful and professional. Trust me to do my job.” Though she still wasn’t sure how she was going to work under the current circumstances. “I trust you to do yours.”

  “Yes, because there’s sooo much danger involved in furniture repair and upholstery.”

  She dug her finger into his ribs. “You never know when a tool will go awry. I’d hate to get a 911 call that you’ve tacked an appendage to something.”

  “Liar.” He clamped his hands over her ass and squeezed. “You’d love lording it over me.”

  “After I saved you, of course.”

  “Of course.” He skimmed her bottom as he released her, setting off tingles throughout her core. “I’ll get those burgers started.”

  “And I’ll take care of the rest.”

  Not that there was a lot involved with cutting tomatoes and putting out condiments. As he walked out the door with the plate of burgers, Sandy returned to the fridge for more items and found he’d purchased a small car
ton of potato salad. Bile rose up at the thought of anything related to mayonnaise. It settled when she saw the label declared it to be mustard potato salad. But that dredged up memories of her family front and center, the multiple offerings her mom placed on the table to please everyone, and the fact Sandy had left them hanging. Dinner prep could wait. Her family couldn’t. In fact, she could put together a nice salad while she listened to voice mails.

  She retrieved her phone from the living room, turned on Speaker, and set it on the counter. Her heart broke a little more with each message someone in her family had left.

  Mom: “Oh, baby, sweetheart. My angel. Call me.”

  Tears blinded her while she worked. She set the knife aside and listened.

  Dad: “We love you. We’ll fix this.”

  Mom: “Damn it, Sandra. Call us. You don’t have to do this alone.”

  Then every single one of her five brothers, ranting and raving about what had happened to her, about her chosen career, about how they knew this would happen, vowing justice and vengeance. Her sisters-in-law followed with sympathy. One even telling Sandy she could set her up with an appointment in a heartbeat to “get rid of the little bastard.” Sandy wasn’t sure if she was talking about abortion or having Keith offed. She suspected the latter.

  There were other messages as well. Wives of her fellow firefighters. Friends calling to express outrage and concern. It was all wonderful and much too much to deal with.

  She glanced through the kitchen window and saw Clint, clearly in his element as grill master. He’d given her the solution to ease everyone’s mind and get the spotlight off her. He’d said he was there for her and wanted them to work. That he’d be onboard with whatever decision she wanted to make. No pressure, only a lifeline to hold on to with both hands.

  Sandy called her parents’ phone number. Her mom picked up on the first ring.

  “Sweetheart, we’ve been frantic! Everyone’s here. I’m putting you on Speaker. Dad and I are packing to come—”

  “Stop, Mom. It’s okay.” She blessed her stars everyone was there. It’d be done in one fell swoop. “I am pregnant, but not by the man who raped me. His name is Clint Clifford. We’ve been seeing each other for about two months.” There. The deed was done, and not as hard as she’d imagined.

  “What’s he have to say about this son of a bitch?” Dad asked.

  “He didn’t know until this morning.”

  “You’re involved with this man, having his baby, and didn’t bother to tell him you’d been violated?” Mom screeched.

  “Clint would have beaten the hell out of him, and I didn’t want him to go to jail.”

  “I like him already,” her dad replied.

  Sandy knew her dad’s chest would be puffed out with pride. Clint was in without ever having met them.

  “Tell us everything,” Mom said.

  So the twenty thousand questions began. Clint walked in to wash the plate, lifting an eyebrow when he realized he was being dissected. His chest puffed out a little too at the praise her family showered over him.

  “Don’t get a big head,” she mumbled to him.

  Smirking, he shot a glance to his crotch.

  “Is he with you now?” Mom asked.

  Sandy prayed she didn’t ask to talk to him. “He’s grilling hamburgers for us. I haven’t eaten all day, so—”

  “Go eat. Go eat. We’ll talk later. So happy to hear good news.” Mom clicked off without another word.

  “Wow.” He braced his hip against the counter. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard myself talked about in such glowing terms before.”

  She shrugged her palms. “Families. What can I say?”

  “What did you say?”

  Sandy let out a slow breath. “That we’re having a baby.”

  He pulled her to him, her back against his chest. “Yeah, we are.” He slid his palm to her belly. Never in her life had Sandy felt more protected—she and the little one inside her. Maybe they could do this after all. Indecision racked back. What-ifs reared their ugly heads.

  “It’s going to be okay.” He kissed her cheek. “Step at a time and all that. The decision is still yours.”

  Some decisions required more lies. Already her family was over-the-moon excited for the new addition. Her parents would be praying for a girl, since Sandy’s brothers seemed only capable of continuing the family tradition of producing boys. Losing the child would devastate them, but no more so than having to see Keith’s face every single day of her life, either in the child or the real deal. Because once news got out this was Clint’s child, Keith would drag them into court for paternity tests. That’s just the kind of bastard he was.

  “I’m starving.” She twisted around to look at him. “How close are those burgers?”

  “I just have to flip them.”

  “Good.” She kissed his chin. “And maybe later I can flip you.”

  “Maybe later I’ll let you.” He snickered.

  “Oh, trust me, you won’t have a choice.”

  “I’m intrigued.”

  Sandy laughed. “I can tell.” His erection swelled into her hip.

  She let thoughts of seduction override the rest of the noise in her head. Having finally been together, she craved Clint more than ever. Her gaze strayed to him while he worked at the grill and she did the inside prep. He’d fit in well with her firefighter family. But there was no way they’d believe he was the father of her baby. She’d been too distraught that morning. Not once had she refuted their assumptions her pregnancy was a result of the rape. Not once had she mentioned Clint’s name. And Erica already knew the truth.

  Sandy shook the thoughts away. Her secret was safe with them. Every single one of them would go to the mat for her. Just like Clint.

  For the first time in six weeks, she counted herself a very lucky woman and not a victim.

  Her heart skipped a couple of beats when Clint finally turned from the grill with their burgers plated and flashed her a grin.

  “Hungry?” he asked when he walked in.

  “Starving.” In more ways than one.

  They ate in the living room while watching TV. Her mercurial appetite demanded the cheeseburger after all. Sandy savored every bite and prayed it would stay down.

  “Good?” he asked.

  “Delicious. And since you cooked, I’ll clean up.”

  “Nah, I’ll get it.” He gathered their plates and stood. “I had sex today. Twice! Let me spoil you.”

  “Spoil me, or have me rested and ready for round three?” She stretched her legs into the space he’d vacated.

  He canted his head to one side. “There’s a difference?”

  “Apparently not.”

  Laughing, she waved him off and briefly considered hitting the shower while he did the dishes. Instead, she stretched out a little more and tucked a throw pillow beneath her head. She didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep until she felt Clint lifting her into his arms.

  “I’m sorry.” She mumbled as she curled into his embrace.

  “Don’t be. I’m a little tired too.” He kissed her temple.

  “No third round?” Not that she had the energy, but she’d try to summon it for him.

  “Not tonight.”

  “But still naked, right?”

  “Oh yeah. With all safety protocols fully in place as per your previous lecture on fire safety.”

  “Good gravy, you are a keeper.”

  “Back at you, bright eyes.”

  Chapter Five

  Sandy dragged herself awake to the shrill sound of the smoke alarms and a heaviness in her chest. It took precious seconds for her to realize her house was on fire. An adrenaline surge snapped her upright.

  “Clint! Wake up! The house is on fire!” She jumped from bed and yanked on a T-shirt from her open go-bag. Clint didn’t budge.

  “Damn it, Clint! Wake up!”

  She reached over to feel for his pulse. Fear subsided a little when she found it. Smoke was filling the be
droom too fast. He’d succumbed. Now it was up to her to get them to safety. Sandy pulled on her shorts, hiked her go-bag cross-body, and dragged the bedspread to the floor next to Clint. Moving him wasn’t going to be easy. He outweighed her by at least sixty pounds. She depended on her training to help her.

  Grabbing him on his far side, Sandy rolled him onto the bedspread. She’d apologize for the bruises he acquired later. Then she tossed his clothes on top of him, swept everything from the nightstand in there—wallet, phone, pocket junk, sheathed gardening knife—and tied him into the bedspread.

  “Hang on.” Prayer wouldn’t hurt either.

  Staying as low as possible, she grabbed the edge nearest his head and pulled. Sheer determination and fear got them as far as the hallway. The smoke was thicker here and growing by the minute. Smoke alarms pierced her eardrums and threatened her sanity. With each drag-step she made, visibility decreased. Heat reached her next, on the left, from the kitchen. She racked her brain, trying to figure out the cause. They hadn’t used the stove. In her heart, though, she knew—this was Keith’s work.

  Sandy made the turn into the living room. Their only possible exit was the front door. She could only hope help was coming. But waiting for them wasn’t an option. Dizziness overwhelmed her. Now the smoke was getting to her too.

  “We’re almost there, Clint.” Please, don’t leave me.

  Dragging him now wasn’t so easy. She hauled the edge of the bedspread over her shoulder and willed herself to pull. Nearly blinded, she fumbled the dead bolt open, then the door. Fresh air called to her and the flames growing behind her. She shoved the screen door open, stumbled to safety with Clint, and collapsed beside him in the front yard just as the first fire truck arrived. She came to with Gina Cannon hovering over her, trying to put an oxygen mask on her face.

  Sandy grabbed her sleeve and worked to pull herself upright. “Clint. Clint.”

  Gina pushed her shoulder down. “He’s alive. Paramedics are working on him. He’ll be the first out. You’re next.”

  “I’m pregnant. Make sure they know I’m pregnant.”

  “I’m on it. Here”—she tried to place the mask again—“you need oxygen.”