Light Up The Night (Firehouse Three Book 2) Read online

  Light Up the Night

  A Firehouse Three Novel

  Regina Cole

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  Light Up the Night

  By Regina Cole

  Her attraction is undeniable…

  Firefighter Drake Hammerfell knew from the first moment he saw Everly Pitts stuck in a tree rescuing a kitten that there was something about her that called to him. This girl-next-door-beauty has him snared in her web, and for the first time in years…he doesn’t want to escape. He’s willing to be patient and bide his time to win over his reluctant lover. But his new start in Dallas isn’t without complications from his past, and his profession carries with it risks that Everly isn’t prepared for. How can he promise to be everything she needs?

  His magnetism is overpowering…

  Everly Pitts runs an animal shelter that’s in desperate need of funds. Despite her misgivings, she can’t say no to the hunky firefighters lining up to help her cause by oiling up and taking it off for a bachelor auction. Especially him. When the ripped, four-alarm sex god Drake Hammerfell goes up for bids, she’s determined to buy back her honor after their embarrassing meeting—even if it means emptying her savings account. But what’s a girl like her supposed to do with a guy like him? She’s much better with animals than people, and yet Drake keeps coming back, wearing down her resolve until she can’t help but wonder…what if?

  Together they’ll LIGHT UP THE NIGHT.

  To Sidney. Thank you for dragging me kicking and screaming into this. I owe you big. Much love!

  You can lead a heart to love, but you can't make it fall in.

  ―UNKNOWN

  Table of Contents

  1.

  2.

  3.

  4.

  5.

  6.

  7.

  8.

  9.

  10.

  11.

  12.

  13.

  14.

  15.

  16.

  17.

  18.

  19.

  Epilogue.

  1.

  Big, brown puppy dog eyes had always been her kryptonite. Everly Pitts knelt, stretching out her hand palm-down to the prick-eared, tan and black shepherd. With a couple of sniffs and a friendly wag of his thick tail, he gave the back of her hand a brief kiss.

  She ran her fingers down his spine, noting the obvious bony ridges. Poor guy hadn’t been eating enough; that was clear. But his teeth were strong and white, and though his nails were too long, he looked fairly healthy. His tail never stopped wagging during her examination.

  “You just need some fattening up and a couch to call your own, don’t you, pup?” She scratched behind his ears and got another exuberant kiss for her efforts. Perking up, he began wiggling and sniffing around in earnest. “We’ll get the vet to double-check him, but as long as he’s heartworm negative and he passes his personality tests, I think he’ll be ready to adopt in a week or so.” Satisfied, she pushed to her feet and looked at Charlie, the shelter staffer who held the dog’s lead. “So, he was a surrender?”

  Charlie nodded in answer to Everly’s question, her freckled nose wrinkling. “Yeah. Apparently he belonged to a man who had a massive stroke recently. It left him a vegetable, poor dude. He just went into a long-term care facility, and this kiddo was passed around for a while until the family got tired of him. They brought some paperwork.”

  Everly took the stained manila envelope from Charlie, watching as the dog wagged and panted, obviously excited to be in a new place. He had a nice attitude. Hard to believe that none of the family had wanted him. Shepherds were pretty high-energy dogs, but they were very trainable, and this kid looked eager to please. He looked to be pretty young, maybe about six months or so at most, in that gangly stage where he looked to be mostly tail and elbows. Scanning through the documents, Everly grinned.

  “I’m going to have to call Jesse about this one.”

  “Really?” Charlie looked up from scratching the dog, her blonde braids falling over her shoulders with the motion. She’d always worn her hair that way, even though she was a couple years older than Everly.

  “Definitely,” Everly said as she scanned through the rest of the records. “This guy is a purebred Belgian Malinois, and they’re ideal for what she does. Got his pedigree and vet records in here. Don’t take pictures of him yet. I don’t want to put him on the website before she’s had a chance to check him out.” The envelope rustled in her hands as she put the records back inside. “She’s been looking for another pup to train, and I’m going to score tons of bestie brownie points for this one.”

  Charlie smiled as she scratched Otto Von Pickles—that was his overly odd name, according to the records Everly held—once again. “You’re going to love it at Jesse’s. She has the best cookies.” Blowing air kisses at the dog, Charlie ruffled his ears.

  She was so good with all the animals—sure, confident, cheerful. And people too. Everly envied that of Charlie. In contrast to Charlie’s homegrown confidence, Everly was sporting a whole lot of awkward when it came to the two-legged kind of critter. In the six months since Charlie had been there, she’d quickly become Everly’s right hand.

  Everly nodded down at the pup. “And, let me do you a favor. We’re going to call you Sirius for now. You’re much too nice of a boy to be called ‘Otto Von Pickles’ for the rest of your life.”

  “Sirius?” Charlie stood, wrapping the leash around her hand.

  Everly shrugged. “Jesse’s got a thing for Harry Potter, and she’s already got a Lupin and a Dumbledore. This way, I get to say I named him when he’s a famous search and rescue dog.”

  Laughing, Charlie patted her leg. “Come on, Sirius. Let’s get you a bunk.”

  Everly watched as the pair walked back to the kennel area of Hopeful Paws, the pet rescue she’d started what felt like forever ago, but was really only eleven months. This place had rapidly become her heart. She’d poured everything into it—her time, her energy, and pretty much every dime she had.

  The lobby area was empty, so Everly passed through it on her way to the room just behind—her office. The mountain of paperwork scattered over her desk wrung a big sigh from her as she sank into her beaten leather chair, a Goodwill find. Bills. The lights, the Internet, the web hosting, the rescue’s van, dog food, cat food, vet visits, all of it cost money.

  And money was the one thing they were in short supply of at the moment.

  Wincing, Everly pulled her cell from her pocket to check out the latest notification.

  Well, there was a little potential for good news.

  A text from Allison Kurtz showed on her notification screen, with the words “Call me” next to a winking smiley face.

  Clearing a spot on her desk for her notebook and a pen, Everly connected the call. With each ring, she got a little more nervous.

  Allison wasn’t the kind of volunteer she was used to. Those volunteers were college kids, young families, retirees. People who loved animals and just wanted to help out wherever they could. Charlie was outside that realm, but Charlie was special. She was staff, Everly’s right hand, and the single reason things didn’t get intensely overwhelming some days. Her quick sense of humor and DIY attitude had saved Everly’s bacon on more than one occasion.

  But Allison? She had marched into the lobby right before closing one Tuesday afternoon, dressed in a power suit and sky-high heels, and told Everly that she was her guardian angel. She didn’t clean kennels or screen potential adopters, but she’d been indispensible for the past two months. Her methods might be unorthodox, but her results were speaking for themsel
ves.

  “Allison Kurtz,” she answered the phone briskly.

  “Hi, Allison, it’s Everly.”

  “Well, hellooo,” Allison drew out the word. Everly could almost hear the evil grin in Allison’s words, and that made her stomach tense up. “Just the lady I wanted to speak to.”

  “Did you come up with a plan for the booth?” Fundraising. The bane of Everly’s existence, and the entire reason for Allison’s. There might be someone else as good at planning, organizing, and running fundraisers as Allison, but Everly had never met them. Everly sketched a star at the top right hand corner of her page, mostly as a way to relieve her nervous energy. Allison’s moneymaking ideas had been getting a little… well, odd, recently. Of course, the sexy mud wrestling idea would probably raise a lot of dough, but it wasn’t exactly Everly’s style. So Allison had promised to come up with an alternate concept for their event at the Deep Ellum Arts Festival this weekend in a few weeks.

  “I did, and I’ve already started work on it. Go to the website.”

  With dread curling its cold fingers around her throat, Everly typed in the URL for the shelter site.

  “Holy—” She clapped her hand over her mouth.

  “Isn’t he hot as hell? I borrowed Marena’s puppy for the shoot. He’s a Yorkie mixed with a poodle, and—”

  As Allison kept talking, Everly’s gaze was glued to her computer screen. There was a hot, half-naked, ripped firefighter leaning against the big red engine, his white teeth flashing in a smile as a tiny, furry puppy kissed his cheek. Emblazoned on the bottom of the huge photo were the words, “Bachelor Auction to benefit Hopeful Paws Pet Adoption.”

  Holy. Shit.

  For a moment she couldn’t function. That was literally the hottest man she’d ever clapped eyes on. His arms were defined, his skin tanned, and the shadowed line of his jaw was so perfect he could have been sculpted out of marble. And those tiny creases at the corner of his eyes? That sparkle, as he looked down at the tiny fluff-ball in his strong hands? Magic.

  “Everly? Are you still there?”

  “What?”

  She blinked to clear the sexy from her eyes. Nope. Still there.

  “I said that’s one of the bachelors. He and about ten other guys from Firehouse Three have agreed to participate. Isn’t that great? Some of them will take turns at the booth that afternoon, and then the auction will be Friday night in one of the big tents at the festival. I’ve already got refreshments lined up. Sprinkles will be doing treats for us, and—”

  “Wait, wait, Allison, we can’t do this.”

  Even as the words left her mouth, Everly’s brain came back online. No way. Hang out in a booth around this guy? Actually function around humans that by all rights should be naked twenty-four/seven? No way. She couldn’t do it in a million years.

  Awkward was her middle name. It was why she liked animals better than people. They didn’t make it hard to breathe when they looked straight at her the way people did. She and her best friend Jesse were both convinced that they were born into the wrong species. Animals they understood. Humans were a whole ‘nother ballgame.

  “Why not?”

  “Let’s just do a raffle, or a silent auction. Surely there are some businesses that can donate something?”

  “You won’t make near the amount of cash with a lawnmower or a fancy cooler. I’m telling you, this is the way to go.” Allison’s tone was even and confident, as if she’d been planning for Everly’s mini-freakout. “One of my childhood friends is on the firehouse team, and I’ve seen these guys. It’s a crew full of gorgeous, I promise. Plenty of eye candy is what makes these things work, and Firehouse Three isn’t hurting for sweetness. I’ve done this kind of auction before, and we brought back in excess of ten grand.”

  “Ten… grand?”

  Eyeing the stack of bills on her desk, Everly bit her lip. Damn it. There was no way around this, was there?

  “I wouldn’t steer you wrong. Trust me.”

  Her eyelids fluttered shut and her mouth went dry, but Everly nodded. “Fine.”

  Allison’s squeal of joy was so unlike her that Everly jumped. “This is going to be so amazing! Just wait and see.”

  Just then, the bell on the front desk in the lobby rang. Everly leaned toward the open doorway. A young guy was out there, looking around for help. “I’ve got to go.”

  “You won’t regret this, I promise.” Allison laughed as she ended the call.

  As Everly left her office to greet the teenager who held an empty cardboard box at the counter, her stomach was in knots. Holy lord. How was she going to handle a bachelor auction? This had to be the craziest thing she’d ever agreed to. It’d better make a million dollars, because if it didn’t, she would cheerfully murder Allison Kurtz.

  Drake Hammerfell hummed along with his truck’s radio as he navigated the roads near his new neighborhood. It was his first afternoon off since joining the crew at Firehouse Three, and he was determined to enjoy it.

  The guys had been giving him hell. Typical for a newbie, but the last four days had been pretty eventful, even for a vet like Drake. They’d tossed him in the gator pit and hosed him down. Shit, they’d even forced him to model for some charity promotional photo, he wasn’t even sure what for. But he could take it. It wasn’t the first hazing he’d been through, but he sure as hell hoped it’d be the last.

  “There’s the post office,” he muttered to himself, making a mental note as he pulled to a stop at the light. “Drugstore, liquor store, bank…” His mental map marked, he took the opportunity to stretch while he waited for the light to turn green.

  This was good. Maybe he was finally over the disappointment of missing out on his dream job.

  His soft snort was barely audible over the sound of the radio.

  No, he wasn’t over that yet. Of course, opportunities to head up a substation didn’t come often in his line of work, and to have missed it by just that much? Drake’s hand tightened on the steering wheel. He was still angry.

  The chief back in Tucson, the father of one Belinda Pearce, former homecoming queen, Lambda Lambda Lambda pledge, and Miss Tucson runner-up—a.k.a. Drake’s girlfriend at the time— had promised him the new substation was his. But when the announcement went out that another firefighter from out of town with less experience had landed the job? Drake had been furious, but Chief Pearce had just shrugged.

  Belinda had been sympathetic. As usual, though, after the initial oh-poor-babys she’d started in on him joining the Hammerfell family business. He wasn’t interested, and her relentless insistence finally put the last nails in the coffin of that relationship.

  Drake had been adrift. The only thing he’d ever wanted to do was be a firefighter, but he was feeling stuck. Then, out of the blue he’d gotten the call. Hunter, his estranged best friend, told him about the opportunity to join a new firehouse, in a new state, and start over. It had been the change he needed.

  His family wasn’t interested in him. They’d already written him off since he’d pissed on his inheritance by refusing the job offer in their conglomerate. Belinda hadn’t wanted to let him go, but that relationship was over.

  Packing up and leaving Tucson was definitely the right call. Even with the misery and shit his new crewmates were cheerfully serving up. The hazing wouldn’t last—the guys were already treating him like one of the team. When they weren’t giving him hell, that is.

  Drake’s phone buzzed in his pocket. With a glance at the still-red light, he pulled his phone free.

  Belinda’s smiling face looked up at him. He hit the power button to shut off the screen. Nope. He wasn’t about to listen to another twenty-minute tirade about his decision to move away from her, how hard she was finding it to be on her own, how awkward it was to tell her friends that the guy she’d picked to marry had broken up with her and left the state.

  He and Belinda were over, and had been for months. He’d been as clear as he could with her, but she refused to give in. Eventually, she�
�d figure out that he wasn’t coming back. He’d been blinded by her looks at first, but it hadn’t taken him long to realize she’d been used to everyone handing her everything she wanted, and she expected Drake to continue that trend for the rest of their lives.

  With his mood tainted, he frowned and stepped on the gas, cruising under the green light. Maybe he should head back to his new apartment and grab his gym bag. He had worked out that morning, but another few miles on the treadmill might clear his head.

  Swinging a left at the next intersection, he traveled down the shady street. It was cute down here. Quaint. Older houses were spread far apart, green lawns and neatly trimmed hedges giving it a homey feel. Before long, the houses disappeared and gave way to businesses, new construction and concrete taking over where the greenery and coziness ended.

  At the next light, he flipped his turn signal on again and waited. Glancing over his shoulder, he read the sign on the corner.

  “Hopeful Paws.” Hm. That sounded familiar for some reason. Well, if he ever got lonely, he knew where to find a furry friend. Several cars were parked in front of the building, but a lonely tree on the far end of the lot drew his attention. That was weird. A tall kid was holding an open cardboard box by his side, shielding his eyes as he looked up into the top of the canopy. Drake followed his gaze, and blinked. Then blinked again.

  Was that… someone in the tree?

  A car horn behind him wrenched his glance away, and he moved through the intersection with an apologetic wave, navigating his pickup into Hopeful Paws’ parking lot. He cut the engine and climbed out of the cab.

  Well, fuck.

  At the top of a Bradford pear, in the skinny branches that really weren’t meant for holding any kind of weight, was a lithe, dark-haired woman who was reaching a hand out to a fluffy, black kitten who clung to a limb just out of her reach. The wood beneath her left foot bent dangerously far as she leaned further.

  “Wait,” Drake said, walking fast toward the tree. “It’s going to—”