Charming the Firefighter (16 page)

His head snapped back as if she’d tossed the water in his face. “What?”

His mother—his middle-aged, way-too-old-to-be-rolling-her-eyes mother—did just that. “No other topic of conversation could possibly compare to the wonder that is you. It’s just lucky that we both find your life so fascinating or Lord only knows what we would have to discuss.”

He shook his head. Grinned sheepishly. “I’m an idiot.”

“You’ll get no argument from me on that one.” Rose patted his cheek. “But you’re one of my very favorite idiots.”

“It’s okay,” he told her, giving her a quick hug. “We both know I’m your number one favorite. Don’t worry I won’t tell the others.” He got down the coffee, measured out enough for the pot. “Penelope was just so nervous about coming here—she’s not as comfortable as we are in social situations.”

“You were looking out for her.”

He lifted a shoulder, feeling like the idiot he claimed to be. “Something like that.”

“Because you care about her.”

Something in his mom’s too-casual tone alerted him he needed to watch his step. And his words. “I like her,” he said slowly. “Yes.”

Rose flipped on the coffeemaker. “I like her, too. And Andrew.”

“There’s no higher compliment,” he assured her.

She snorted softly. “Flatterer. Now, you watch the coffee while I go in there and start planning your and Penelope’s wedding.”

He could only stare. She was kidding. Right?

He took a step to follow her when Penelope entered carrying dirty dessert plates.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

She smiled. He rubbed a hand over his suddenly aching heart.

“You have to stop asking that. What did you think your family was going to do to us? String us up over a fire and have us as the main course?”

“You never know,” he muttered, taking the dishes from her and setting them in the sink. “This could all be an elaborate trap and they’re luring you in with jokes and kindness and my mom’s roasted chicken. Then, when you least expect it, they’ll turn on you.” He narrowed his eyes at the good-natured shout from the dining room. “They’re sneaky.”

She laughed and he grinned in response. She’d done a lot of that since arriving at his parents’ home. Laughed. Smiled. Seemed at ease. “The only thing I’m afraid of is Andrew asking them to adopt him. And to think, he hadn’t even wanted to attend, had claimed he’d be bored and would feel stupid not knowing anyone or having any kids his own age there. Funny how those complaints stopped soon after we got here. I’m not sure if it was Sadie teasing him or the food that won him over.”

“I just want to make sure they weren’t too pushy. Or nosy. And half those stories they told you about me were bald-faced lies,” Leo said. “I never, not once, dated twins. At least, not at the same time.”

“They’ve been wonderful,” she said. “Growing up, my family’s dinners were stiff, awkward affairs. I was always so unsure of myself, afraid to speak my mind lest I say the wrong thing. But your family welcomed Andrew and me—virtual strangers—made us feel a part of your family, if only for a few hours.” She began filling the sink with water. “Where does your mother keep the dish soap?”

“Hey, now,” Leo said, coming up behind her. “None of that. You’re a guest.”

She opened the door under the sink, found the soap there. “I don’t mind.”

He gently pulled her away, shut off the water. “Are you kidding? Mom would kick my ass if she knew I let you wash the dishes.”

“But it’s the least I can do after everything she’s done for me and Andrew.”

“She roasted a chicken and mashed some potatoes. Believe me, she can do that in her sleep. And I’m sure she was happy to include you.”

“No, it’s more than that. You don’t understand because you’re so accustomed to it.”

He wrapped one arm around her waist, lifted her chin with his other hand. “Accustomed to what?”

“To this,” she burst out, waving her hand and almost hitting him in the chin. “Sunday dinners and your brothers and sister teasing you and you teasing them right back. To your grandfather sitting at the head of the table and your parents holding hands and your nieces and nephew chatting away. To the noise and the laughter and yes, even the occasional argument. You’re used to being a part of it.”

“A part of the insanity?”

“A part of a family,” she whispered. “I guess I never realized what I’d been missing. Not really. Thank you. Thank you for sharing yours with me. With us.”

She humbled him. He kissed her, a quick brush of his mouth over hers. Straightened. “Thank you.”

She looked dazed. “What for?”

“For reminding me how lucky I am.”

“Glad I could help.” She eased away, turned on the faucet. “Now you can repay me by helping with these dishes. I’ll wash. You dry.”

Shit. He hated doing dishes. “I’m telling you it’s not necessary. If we wait a few minutes, Sadie will volunteer.”

“She already did,” Penelope said, squirting soap into the sink. “I told her we’d take care of it.”

He sighed. Damn. He guessed it wasn’t such a bad way to spend a little bit of time. The scent of coffee filled the air, his stomach was full and he stood close to Penelope. Plus, his siblings would avoid the kitchen for at least twenty minutes. None of them would want to take the chance of being roped into helping.

“I think Andrew was a little disappointed that Maddie’s boyfriend wasn’t here,” Penelope said, handing Leo a bowl. “He’s never met a professional athlete before.”

“Believe me, he’s not missing much.”

Penelope frowned at him. “You really don’t like Neil, do you? I thought maybe Maddie had exaggerated.”

“She didn’t.”

“Want to tell me why you dislike him so much?”

“It’s a long story.”

She gestured to the pile of dishes that hadn’t fit into the dishwasher. “I have plenty of time.”

True. But he didn’t want to spend any amount of time talking about Neil Pettit. Bad enough he had to deal with him at most holidays. Had to live with the knowledge that the man would likely become his brother-in-law. “It’s not important.”

“Why do you do that?” she asked quietly.

“Do what?”

“Brush me off when I ask you a question.”

He stilled. “I don’t do that.”

She nodded slowly, her eyes sad. “Yes. You do. You have no problem quizzing me about my life, asking me about my marriage, discussing my son and his illness. But when the conversation gets too personal for you, too uncomfortable, you shut down. Shut me down. Friday night, I wanted to help you with whatever was bothering you but you wouldn’t let me. You don’t trust me enough to open up to me.”

“Hey,” he said, reaching for her only to drop his arms back to his side when she stepped back, her chin lifting. “It’s not like that.”

“No?” She crossed her arms. “Then what is it like?”

He’d pissed her off. Worse than that, he’d hurt her. “I dislike Neil because he hurt Maddie.”

“What do you mean, hurt?”

“Not physically. He broke her heart.” Leo stabbed his hand through his hair remembering how distraught Maddie had been when Neil had left. “He got her pregnant when she was sixteen then took off to become a hotshot hockey player.”

“But they’re together now,” Penelope said, looking confused. “She obviously forgave him.”

Leo whipped the towel onto his shoulder. “What if he does it again? What if he leaves her again?”

“I can understand why you’d be worried for your sister, but Maddie seems quite capable of taking care of herself.”

“I should have taken care of her.” He ground out the words from between his teeth. “I should have protected her. I was the one closest in age to her, the one still at home when Neil started sniffing around her. I never should have let him near her. Never should have let him hurt her that way.” He flung the towel onto the island. “I knew what Neil was capable of. I should have said something, done something when he first took an interest in Maddie.”

“What could you have possibly done?”

“I could have warned her that he was dangerous. That he’d use her. Take advantage of her feelings for him.”

Penelope laid her palm against his cheek. “You can’t save everyone.”

Her words blew through him. Chilled him. “You think I don’t know that?” he asked, his voice ragged, his tone sharp. He grabbed Penelope’s upper arms and dragged her onto her toes, ignoring her gasp, how her eyes widened. “I know that better than anyone. While you’re sitting behind your tidy desk I’m responding to accidents and heart attacks and strokes and overdoses. While you’re adding up numbers I’m trying to put people back together.”

“Leo,” she said softly. Gently. “You’re hurting me.”

He yanked his hands away, curled his trembling fingers into his palms. Shit.
Shit!
What the hell was wrong with him? He rarely lost his cool. His control. “I’m sorry.” His voice was reedy and thin. He cleared his throat. “Penelope, I...I apologize. I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know.” She stepped closer. Shocked him by taking his fisted hands in hers. “Tell me. Trust me.”

He shut his eyes. Tipped his head back and blew out a heavy breath. He didn’t want to. He wanted to make a joke, to use his wit and charm to steer the conversation in a different direction.

Tell me. Trust me.

He needed to do both. For himself, yes. For the hope of gaining some measure of peace, of closure. But for Penelope as well. To prove how much he was starting to care for her. That he did trust her.

“You were right,” he admitted, straightening his fingers and linking them with hers. Liking how the feel of her palms against his centered him. Grounded him. “That phone call the other night did upset me. It was one of Samantha Coles’ sorority sisters. Samantha was the young woman who died in the car accident over Labor Day weekend.”

“Yes,” Penelope murmured. “I remember.”

“Her sorority is putting on a fund-raiser to help the Coles with funeral costs. They wanted me to attend as the guest of honor.” His mouth twisted. “Samantha’s dead and they want to honor me for not doing enough to save her.”

“You tried,” Penelope said. “I’m sure you did your best.”

“It wasn’t enough. Sometimes I hate it. I hate that no matter what we do, no matter how hard we try to help someone, to save them, it isn’t enough. I told Sam she’d be all right,” he whispered. “That I was going to take care of her. That I’d save her.”

Penelope’s eyes glistened with tears. For him. It ate away at him. “Oh, Leo.” She rose onto her toes and hugged him. “It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your fault at all.”

Burying his face in the crook of her neck, he wound his arms around her slim waist and held on tight. Took comfort from her words, her presence there. And in that moment, found his peace.

* * *

L
EO
WALKED
P
ENELOPE
to her door. They’d gone out again, this time into Pittsburgh for dinner, then to the art museum. The third weekend they’d spent together in as many weeks. Penelope fished around for her keys, not sure how she felt about this connection she was creating with Leo, this need for him that was growing inside of her. He never spoke of the future, never hinted that he wanted to continue seeing her, but the way he treated her, how he continued to want to spend time with her, told her he cared for her.

She unlocked the door and turned to face him. “Thanks again.”

He grinned, ducked his head and kissed her. “You’re welcome.” He kissed her again. “Next time, though, I pick the venue.”

She laughed. “Please, I saw you studying those abstract paintings. You enjoyed yourself, admit it.”

“I was trying to figure out what the hell they were,” he said. “But it wasn’t bad.”

She couldn’t believe he’d grown up so close to Pittsburgh and had never gone to any of the museums except for one on a field trip in grade school. She tipped her head back and grinned at him. “Next time I’m thinking we should check out the ballet.”

His wince was small but noticeable. She laughed. “Kidding. You do get the next pick.”

“Great. We’ll take in a hockey game, then hit Primanti Bros. for a sandwich.” He set his hands on her waist and pulled her toward him. Nuzzled her neck. “By the end of the night, you’ll be wanting French fries on all your sandwiches and rooting for the Penguins to win the Stanley Cup.”

She had no idea why penguins would want a cup or who Stanley was, but whatever Leo was doing to her neck felt really nice so she didn’t ask. Just tilted her head as he moved his mouth along the side of her neck.

“Well,” she gasped, not stopping him when his hands slid to her back and brought her flush against his body. “I’d better get inside.”

“Uh-huh,” he murmured, his lips moving against her skin. His fingers dug into the slope of her rear. “It is late.”

It was. Past midnight. “I’m not very tired,” she heard herself say.

He hesitated a moment, then continued his exploration of her neck. “Me, either. I could come in. Have a drink.”

He raised his head, his eyes glittering in the porch light. A drink. That wasn’t what he wanted, wasn’t what she wanted, either, she realized. “You could...” She licked her lips and watched his gaze narrow as it followed the movement. “All I have is some white wine, though.”

“I love wine.” He moved to guide her inside, then paused. “Do you think Drew is still up?”

“Probably,” she said as casually as she could. “He’s spending the night at Luke’s, and I don’t think they go to sleep until the wee hours of the morning.”

Leo went so still, Penelope worried he’d stopped breathing. “He’s not here.”

He made it sound like a statement, but she took it as a question. “No.”

“He’s not coming home tonight.”

She shook her head. “Not until tomorrow. He usually rolls in around noon.” He would grunt at her, then head up into his room, shut the door and sleep the rest of the afternoon.

Her mouth tightened and she forced herself to relax. She wasn’t going to think of her son. Not tonight. She wanted to focus on Leo, on their relationship. For once, she wanted to focus on herself.

“We have the house to ourselves.” She felt emboldened by the way he looked at her, how he touched her. Emboldened and empowered. She was wanted. This handsome, kind, funny man wanted her.