Boston Fire: Heat Exchange Part 16

"No. And I checked the hamper to make sure I didn't leave it in my pocket, even though I've never done that. Send me a text so I can listen for the ding."

Lydia grabbed her phone and sent a happy face emoticon to his phone and listened for the notification. "I think it came from the couch."

"I already looked there."

"I have smaller hands. I can reach farther down in the cushions."

A quick search turned up nothing, so Lydia typed dumba.s.s into the box and hit Send again. This time they were ready and she shoved her hand down behind the cushion, feeling around until she came up with his phone. She started to hand it to him, but then she noticed the text previews on his lock screen and pulled her hand back.

"Who is Blonde from market?" She looked at the screen again, then shook her head. "Wait. I'm the one who called you a dumba.s.s. You have me saved in your contacts as Blonde from market?"

"It's a long story."

She crossed her arms, his phone still clutched in her hand. "If you want your phone back, you should probably make the time to tell it."

He grinned. "You know I can take that phone away from you if I want to, right?"

"Maybe you can, but you'll need bandages and Bengay later."

"I believe you." He sat down on the couch and laced his fingers together on top of his head as he leaned back against the cushion. It was a favorite position of his and usually she liked the effect it had on his biceps and chest, but she wasn't going to be distracted right now. "Remember the day you texted me while I was on my way to a promotion ceremony?"

"Yeah."

"When you sent that, I was mashed up against Scotty in the backseat of Rick's truck and my phone was just kind of in my hand. I turned it before he saw your name on the screen, but I realized he grabs my phone sometimes. So I changed your name in my contacts."

"Because you didn't want him to know I was texting you."

"He might think it was a little weird, and some of the texts you've sent...no, I don't want him reading them."

Lydia wasn't sure how she felt about the depths Aidan was going to in order to keep their relationship a secret. It made her feel as if she was doing something wrong and she really wasn't. But Aidan obviously thought he was, and so he was lying to his best friend. Then it got weird because Scotty was her brother and she knew his best friend was lying to him, which should make her angry on his behalf.

All of that on top of what Ashley had said was too much, and she wanted to kick a garbage barrel or something to let off steam. The entire situation was seriously messed up and obviously a huge part of why you didn't sleep with your brother's best friend.

"Why Blonde from market?" she asked, because that seemed a little random. "You could have at least left me a brunette."

"Scotty asked me how I saved her in my contacts since I couldn't remember her name and it just came out of my mouth at the time," he replied. When he shrugged his shoulders with his hands on his head like that, it made his biceps flex, which she liked. "I'm not a good liar, so it's been a challenge."

"Or you could just tell him."

His mouth tightened as he considered her words. "You really think that's a good idea?"

Lydia tried to imagine what her brother's reaction would be if Aidan told him he'd been sleeping with her, and it wouldn't be pretty. "I don't like that you have to lie to him. I know that bothers you."

"You're right. I hate lying to him and the more I lie to him, the worse it'll be if I tell him."

She mentally flailed for a solution. "Maybe we can pretend we haven't been seeing each other and you can bring it up to see how he reacts. If he freaks out, then we're still a secret. But if he's okay with it, then we go out on a date and pick up where n.o.body knows we left off."

"If he freaks out, that would be the end of it. What I'm doing now is s.h.i.tty. If I kept seeing you after he said no...I couldn't do that to him."

She could see in his eyes how much it tore him up, and she hated it. "I think Ashley's starting to get bored and she'll need to start making money again, so pretty soon I'll probably be back in New Hampshire and you won't have to."

That didn't seem to make him feel any better. If anything, his mouth got even tighter and his eyes more troubled. He dropped his hands to his lap and then held one out to her. "I don't want to think about that right now."

She thought he was reaching for his phone and, since he had told her the story as requested, she put it in his hand. But he just dropped the phone into his lap and reached out again. "Come sit with me."

When she took his hand, he pulled her down so she was sitting next to him. Lydia wanted to change the subject to pretty much anything other than her brother and New Hampshire, and she had a good idea of how to do that.

Turning sideways, she leaned her head against his shoulder and ran her hand over his stomach. His abs tightened in response, making her smile. "Sometimes the fact you're always running around in just your boxer briefs is very convenient."

"Oh yeah? How so?"

She slid just the tips of her fingers under the elastic waistband. "Easy access."

He moaned when her fingers stroked the length of his erection, and closed his eyes for a moment. She wasn't surprised when he opened them again, though. He'd want to watch.

"I should see if I can make you beg," she told him.

"Nope." He lifted his hips so his hot, hard flesh brushed her palm. "I didn't make you beg for my hand down your pants in the storage closet, did I?"

She closed her fingers around his hard length and smiled when he groaned, deep in his throat. Then she stroked him with long and slow strokes, watching his face. "But we're not talking about my hand. We're talking about my mouth."

"I'd beg for your mouth."

It was tempting to make him, but she wasn't in the mood for games. She moved over on the cushion so she had room to bend down and then very slowly circled her tongue around the head of his c.o.c.k.

Her hair fell forward and she shoved at with her free hand, but it wouldn't stay. She was debating on how much it would kill his mood if she paused to throw an elastic in it when she felt his hands gathering it.

He held it all in one fist, and she knew it was as much so he could see her face as to keep her hair out of the way. She licked her lips, making him groan in antic.i.p.ation, and then closed her mouth over him.

With the same slow, lazy rhythm he liked to torment her with, she drew him into her mouth and then raised her head again. When his hand tightened in her hair, she stopped and closed her lips only around the head of his c.o.c.k. She swirled her tongue around the tip and resisted when he gave her head a little nudge.

He muttered a mix of curses and pleas under his breath, and she closed her hand around the base of his d.i.c.k. Squeezing gently, she worked her hand up to meet her mouth and then back again.

His breath grew ragged and she took him fully into her mouth again, until her lips met her curled fingers. Then she worked them together-her mouth and her fist-in fast, deep strokes. He groaned her name, his fist in her hair tightening almost to the point of being painful, and then he was coming. She stroked him until the o.r.g.a.s.m pa.s.sed, swallowing without losing the rhythm.

When he was finished, she ran her tongue over the tip and then pulled the waistband of his boxer briefs back into place. Aidan hauled her up and into his lap, holding her close and kissing her hair.

"Gimme a few minutes," he said, still catching his breath, "and then we'll see if I can make you beg."

Now that was a game she could get behind.

DANNY TOOK A LONG and slow breath before he opened the front door of his parents' house and walked inside. It felt weird to just walk in, even after years of doing it, but his old man had gotten p.i.s.sed about having to get off his a.s.s to answer the door, only to find out it was his son.

Neither his brother nor sister was around, which suited Danny just fine. He loved them, he supposed, and would always be there for them if they needed him. But he didn't like them very much and all of them in the small house at the same time could be a bit much.

"Ma," he yelled from just inside the door, since he still felt a need to announce himself.

"In the kitchen!"

Of course she was. It was a room her husband rarely ventured into, preferring to have his wife deliver anything he wanted to his recliner that had been parked in the living room for as long as Danny could remember.

His mom looked a lot older than the last time he saw her, even though it had only been five or six months. Or maybe she just looked that way to him because she'd lost some weight. He kissed her cheek, noticing she still smelled like cigarette smoke even though the doctor had warned her to quit at least a year ago.

"It's good to see you," she said in her raspy, chain-smoker's voice.

"You, too, Ma. Where's Dad?"

She sneered. "He went upstairs because he's a moron and he had a frappe for lunch even though the doctor told him he's lactose intolerant."

Danny wasn't sure why his parents even bothered seeing doctors. He couldn't think of a single time either of them had ever listened to the advice they were given. "What is it you need me to do?"

He realized after he asked it that the question probably sounded abrupt, but he didn't care. His mother had asked him for a favor and he'd do it, but he didn't want to be in this house any longer than necessary.

"I need you to change the lightbulb in the laundry room," she said. "I've been asking your father to do it for two months, but you know how he is. The only light I have is what shines in from the hallway."

Danny just walked to the high cabinet over the fridge without saying a word. If there was anything that p.i.s.sed his father off more than the existence of his youngest son, it was his youngest son having to come over and do the ch.o.r.es the old man should be doing himself. That meant this visit was going to be especially fun, he thought as he took a box of cheap lightbulbs down. Maybe if his mother spent more on the d.a.m.n things, they wouldn't need to be changed so often.

He was almost done when he heard the thump of his father's feet on the stairs, and he sighed. He'd almost made it.

After flipping the switch to make sure the new bulb worked, Danny took the burned-out bulb into the kitchen to throw in the garbage. His dad was standing in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest.

"Fire department changing lightbulbs now?"

As greetings went, it wasn't exactly warm. "I stopped by. The light needed changing."

"So you're here taking care of my house, but you can't keep your own in order?" Danny clenched his jaw, refusing to rise to the bait. "Heard Ashley threw you out. Guess you f.u.c.ked that up."

"Guess so," he agreed in an emotionless monotone. His old man fed on emotions like some kind of mythological monster, and the more you fed him, the more ravenous and ruthless he got.

"I like Ashley," his mother said. "I hope you didn't cheat on her."

"I didn't."

"Her old man's an a.s.shole," his dad declared, even though the only time he'd met Tommy Kincaid was at Danny and Ashley's wedding. "You're better off without them."

"I'm not better off without my wife," Danny responded. He knew it was a mistake, but his dad dismissing his marriage so easily didn't sit right.

His dad snorted. "So you'll go crawling back to her, then, like the little p.u.s.s.y you've always been. You probably let her keep your b.a.l.l.s in a jar instead of standing up for yourself like a real man."

And that was his cue to leave, but before he could say so, his mother made it worse. "Shut up, Lou. What do you know about being a real man? We been married forty-five years and you still don't know s.h.i.t about how marriage is supposed to be."

"Maybe if I wasn't married to a b.i.t.c.h, always yapping at me. Yap, yap, yap, like a f.u.c.king Chihuahua."

Danny felt himself shut down inside. He'd been listening to this his entire life, and he knew nothing he could say would make it stop. And, if he tried, they'd probably turn on him.

He was done. "I'm leaving."

"You just got here," his mother protested, as if he was skipping out on a fun family afternoon.

"Let him go," his father said. "He's probably going to go lick his wounds, like a little b.i.t.c.h."

"Stay and have some coffee cake."

If he hadn't grown up in this house, he might have found her offer of coffee cake in the face of his father calling him a little b.i.t.c.h jarring, but this was how they communicated and always had. But this time, he couldn't lock his emotions down like he'd always done.

He didn't like these people. He felt absolutely nothing for them except disgust and a vague sense of obligation because they were, after all, his parents. They were toxic, and every time he was in this house, they poisoned him a little bit more.

After glancing at each of them, he shook his head and walked to the front door. And when he pa.s.sed through it and felt the rush of fresh air as he walked down the stairs, he swore it was the last time he'd ever step foot in that house.

It was time to make some changes in his life. He wasn't sure yet how he was going to fix his marriage, but instinct told him letting go of his toxic past was a step in the right direction.

Chapter Thirteen.

LYDIA'S CELL PHONE ringing jerked her out of a really nice dream and she wanted to sink back into it, but it was already sliding away from her. A pickup truck, a dirt road and she and Aidan holding hands were all she could remember now.

Maybe she shouldn't have let some friendly, money-spending customers talk her into changing the radio to a country station the night before, she thought as she reached for her phone.

The caller ID showed it was Sh.e.l.ly, her roommate in New Hampshire, and she groaned. She'd paid her rent in advance and Sh.e.l.ly hadn't been upset, so hopefully this wasn't an I'm evicting you phone call. It was too early. "h.e.l.lo?"

"Hey, did I wake you up?"

Sh.e.l.ly was not only an incurable morning person, but one of those really chipper morning people that not-morning people wanted to smack upside the head with the toaster. "I'm awake. What's up?"

It was almost thirty minutes before Lydia was able to extricate herself from the call because Sh.e.l.ly wanted to catch up. Lydia just wanted coffee. She would have gone down to the kitchen, since cell phones were nothing if not portable, but she really needed the bathroom before she had coffee and she couldn't pee while on the phone.

When she finally made it to the coffeepot, Ashley had the fridge door propped open with the garbage barrel and was cleaning it out. Lydia was surrounded by morning people.

"Did I hear your phone ring?" Ashley asked her. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, but I need to go back to Concord for the weekend. Sh.e.l.ly wants to go see her sister's new baby and she can't take the cat."

Ashley gave her a sideways look. "It's a cat. You put down extra food and water before you leave and make sure the litter box is clean. A cat can handle a couple of days without a human. Knowing cats, it's probably their version of a vacation."

"Oscar's kind of Sh.e.l.ly's baby. She won't leave the cat alone and she can't find anybody else to stay with him because most people reacted like you did and she doesn't trust them now."

"Okay." Ashley was quiet for a long moment, and then she took a deep breath. "So you need me to work for you? It's okay if you do. I mean, I guess I have to go back sometime, but you know they like to play pool on Sat.u.r.day nights and-"

Lydia held up a hand to stop her. "I already sent a text to Karen and she's going to cover for me."

Her sister's relief was almost palpable. "Okay. Didn't she and Rick break up, though? I thought I heard that from one of the other wives, who called to tell me about some sale at the secondhand store, but really just wanted to get the latest gossip about my marriage."