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CHAPTER 8

T RINA

The sensation from my fists slamming into Fitz allows a tiny bit of my tension to release. I haven’t been this stressed since I went to the fire academy almost a decade ago. Back then I had to deal daily with several testosterone fueled misogynists who made it no secret that they didn’t think women should be firefighters.

I can’t believe I was stupid enough to let down my guard and drink so much that I not only fell into bed with Ben, but married him. Whether or not the license gets filed and the marriage is legitimate, the evidence shows that I must have stood before some officiant—or scam artist posing as an officiant—and made vows to the only man I’ve ever loved. And the only man I’ve ever let break my heart—romantically, anyway. My dad broke my heart all the time, but that was different.

So, the rage coming out in my punches today is about all of it—what I let happen in the past, and what I let happen in Las Vegas. I’m also pissed because, despite our conversation on his patio, on my next workday, Ben had the nerve to send me a bouquet of pink tulips at work. I promptly removed the card and dumped them in the trash while my crew watched, and I pocketed the card to dispose of where none of them could find it and read it.

Adding insult to injury, on my shift yesterday, another bouquet arrived. Pink roses this time. I’m not sure what Ben is playing at, but he needs to stop screwing with me. With an intense need to release the escalating tension, I spin and land a roundhouse kick to the pads Fitz is holding. His eyes widen when he stumbles back a few feet toward the wall.

As strong as I am and as often as Fitz and I box, I’ve never been able to move my mountain of a best friend when we’re sparring like this. I’m shocked, but the brief look on his face is priceless—bulging eyes and a gaping jaw. He quickly recovers and grins before dropping the strike pads he’s holding and raising his hands up toward me, palms out.

“Okay. You win today. But don’t think you could normally knock me back like?—”

I’m not done.

Because when I recall sitting on my back porch this morning and opening both cards that came with the flowers, I’m filled with fury. The written words have been repeating in my mind since I saw them. “ I can’t stop thinking about you ” and “ I keep dreaming about you . Maybe it’s a sign we should spend time together.”

I ram into Fitz’s torso, leading with my shoulder and driving his huge body back until he hits the wall. Holy hell.

A twinge of guilt niggles at me as he struggles to take a deep breath. But, damn, it’s amazing to get some of the anger out in such a physical way.

When Fitz catches his breath, he says, “Jesus, woman. What’s gotten into you?”

Not caring that the gym floor is dusty and probably covered in sweat droplets from God knows how many people, I flop myself down onto the ground and lie back, looking up at the ceiling. I put a lot of effort into that workout, so I suck in breaths of stale, sweaty man smelling air as I try to slow my respiratory rate. Fitz, clearly harboring no hard feelings for the ass kicking I handed him, passes me a water bottle and lies down next to me. I lean up long enough to chug down half of the bottle of water, then return to my lying position, staring up to avoid looking at Fitz.

“So, do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?”

I snort. “Um, do you know me? Of course I don’t want to talk about it.” Shit, I basically just admitted I’m upset about something. “And there’s not even anything to talk about.”

I sense Fitz staring at me. “Hmm.”

I whip my head to the side and glare at him.

“Hmm? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He lifts a single eyebrow and cocks his head at me.

“You tell me. Emily said you’ve been acting weird since you returned from the Fire Service conference in Las Vegas. Not to mention I’m pretty sure you were imagining someone’s face on those strike pads.”

A sarcastic huff escapes me.I say nothing in response.

“Does it have anything to do with the flowers you got at work?”

“What the actual hell? Men love to say women can’t keep their mouths shut, but you guys at the station are the most gossipy bitches I’ve ever met. Tell me who was running their mouth.” My words come out like a demand.

“Calm down. No one was gossiping about you. I saw them in the trash when I came into work the next day and asked what that was about. One of the guys said you got them and that it was the second time. He also said that you’d thrown both bouquets in the trash.”

I rise off the ground, resting one forearm on my bent knee, and pour the rest of my water down my throat.

“Are you dating someone you haven’t told me about? And, if so, what did he do to piss you off so bad you tossed his flowers?”

Fitz runs his hands through his hair. I know my best friend almost as well as I know myself. He’s worried about me. And I hate that. I don’t need anyone worrying about me, and I certainly don’t want to burden Fitz with my shit.

“I wish it were as simple as that.” I practically whisper the words. Before he can respond, I stand and extend a hand to help him up. “C’mon, we need to hit the showers. We’re supposed to be at Annie and Jack’s for their March Madness finals party in an hour and we still have to stop and pick up Emily.”

Fitz takes my offered hand, but once he’s standing, he doesn’t release it right away. I pin him with a glare. His narrowed eyes and concerned frown warn me he’s about to try to have a moment with me.

“Hey, listen. I’m not, like very good with words, but I love you, Tri. If you need to talk or need me to help you bury a body or something, remember I’ve got a lot of land,”—he smiles, and I roll my eyes in response—“and I’ve got your back. Anything you need.”

I push his shoulder with my free hand. “Can we braid each other’s hair, too?” My voice is dripping with sarcasm, and I fight to hold back a smirk.

When I turn away and head toward the locker rooms, Fitz’s chuckle follows me.

“I thought painting nails would be fun, but if you really want to braid hair instead, we can.”

I open the locker room door and walk through it, letting a laugh escape as I do.

Impressively, Fitz and I shower, get from our gym near Meadow Creek back to Emily’s house to pick her up, and make it to Annie and Jack’s party, all within an hour. It’s nice to see everyone since a lot of our friends are here and if there’s one thing about our friend group I love, it’s that we’re more like a family than we are friends.

The only challenge about being a member of this group is that Ben is a part of it, too. For years, I’ve ignored him anytime we were both present at group things. Every once in a while, though, on a tough day—like after another failed attempt at dating—I can’t hold my snarkiness in and a comment or two, directed at him, slip out in a group setting.

When a few minutes have passed and we’ve all said our hellos, a sense of relief washes over me that Ben isn’t here today. I’m worked up about the accidental marriage and the flowers, so I’m not sure I could hold in my irritation if I had to be around him today.

When I see Alex Reynolds is here with his twins, I make my way over and chat with him. His adorable little girls are bouncing with energy like healthy, happy eight-year-olds. I can’t help but smile watching them even though that familiar longing for a family of my own tugs at me. We chat for a few minutes until the girls convince him to play outside.

I take a minute after they leave the room to send off a text to Alex’s wife, Jordan, so we can schedule a lunch date. As I finish sending the text, I look up and my hope for a peaceful afternoon shatters. The reason for the sudden increase in laughter and volume around me is because Ben has arrived. Everybody loves Ben—the life of pretty much any party.

“Ugh,” I mutter to myself. As if he heard me, Ben’s light blue-gray eyes find mine across the room. I expect a flirty or charming smile, but that’s not what I get. Ben blinks his eyes slowly at me, a frown on his face, and shakes his head like he’s the one frustrated at seeing me.

What’s he got to be upset with me about?

* * *

BEN

I get that this wasn’t a planned marriage. But, until we confirm that it’s not legally binding, Trina could at least show me the respect of not dating someone else. Apparently, she doesn’t agree, based on the gossip I overheard when I was having a beer at O’Riley’s a few days ago. I’ve been pissed at her ever since. Whatever.

I spend the next hour trying to enjoy the March Madness final, but with Trina in the room, I can’t seem to relax. I finally give up and head into the dining room to chat with Annie, Emily, and Shayna for a bit. Poor Reynolds, he’s tried—unsuccessfully—to wear his twins down with some outside time and now they’re back inside and he’s trying to keep them entertained, while sneaking peeks into the living room to watch the game. Still, missing a game isn’t a terrible price to pay for the family he has. Maybe I can give him a break, though, and give myself a brief respite from the challenging job of not watching Trina the whole time I’m in the room with her.

“Hey, any of you kiddos want to go outside and play? We can play Monkey in the Middle, and I’ll be the monkey.”

My nephew Tommy and Reynolds’ twins jump at the chance. When their parents give me the okay, the three kids and I head outside. We run around the backyard, and the kids giggle when I can’t get out of the middle. I tumble exaggeratedly around on the ground when I pretend to dive for the ball any time one of the kids makes an errant throw. They love it. Thank God it’s been unusually dry for this time of year, or I’d be a muddy mess.

“Uncle Ben, you’re bad at this game!” Tommy calls out.

Laughing coming from Jack’s back patio area catches my attention and I glance behind me to see Annie, Shayna, Emily, and Trina sipping wine while huddled by a propane-fueled gas pit. It’s early April, but the temperature is unseasonably high right now at sixty-two degrees, so the fire seems like a little bit of overkill. Who I am to judge, though? I’m running around keeping warm.

I tell myself not to look at Trina, but I can’t help it and I do anyway. Whereas all three of the other women are smiling and laughing, Trina holds her body stiff, a scowl on her face and her eyes flat.

“Yeah!” one of Reynolds’ twins agrees with Tommy. “Let’s play tag instead.”

“You’re it, Uncle Ben!”

All three littles take off running in different directions.

After about a half hour of playing tag, I’m tiring out and I thank my lucky stars when Annie lets the dogs out to play. The pups distract the kids from me. I make my way to the porch where Fitz and Reynolds are now sitting.

“Hey man, thanks for taking one for the team so I could watch a little of the game. Do you want me to go get you a beer?” Reynolds asks.

“No problem. It was fun. And nah, I’ll go get a glass of water and a cup of coffee. I’m driving.”

“Us, too,” Fitz says, and he and Reynolds both hold up soda cans.

I chuckle and head into the house, returning a few minutes later, a little better hydrated and with a cup of coffee. We spend another half hour hanging out and watching the kids run around with the dogs. Movement in my peripheral vision catches my eye and I peer up in time to see Trina climbing the steps to the porch and the rest of the women just standing from their seats and picking up their wine glasses, presumably to go inside.

“Fitz, you about ready to go? I’d like to get home to do some catch up work, if possible,” Trina says. She doesn’t once glance in my direction.

“Sure, let me say my goodbyes first.”

“No problem, I’ve got to go talk to Jack for a minute anyway about some work stuff. I’ll meet you at the car in a few minutes.”

Trina doesn’t wait for a response. She simply disappears through the door into the house and leaves me shaking my head.

I swallow down the rest of my coffee and stand, stepping off the porch to walk over and say goodbye to the rest of the women. I think the only person inside I need to say goodbye to otherwise is Jack, but I decide I’ll text him since Trina is likely still in there talking to him.

No sooner have I walked up to them when Emily, who’s tipsy, grins at me with a wide smile. “Ben, you’re so good with kids. When are you going to settle down, get married, and bring some babies to the group? We haven’t had a baby around in a while.”

I can only laugh. “Em, I think I’m pretty far off from that life. You know me, I like the single life.”

“As you always have, big brother,” Shayna chimes in.

I simply smirk at her and pretend that it doesn’t sting a little. Even my sister thinks I want to live a single playboy life. I guess I’ve built a reputation. True or not.

After I’ve said goodbye, I make my way down the driveway, then I stroll down the sidewalk to my car. I’m so deeply lost in thought that I don’t notice the beautiful blonde leaning against Fitz’s truck until she huffs. When I look up, I see Trina typing into her phone, her face pinched with irritation. I keep walking—it would probably be best if she didn’t see me, given how she acted toward me at the party.

No such luck.

When I’m only about six feet past her, she calls out. “So, you’re really gonna walk by and not talk to me?”

I stop in my tracks and slowly turn around to face her. “You want to talk? Sure didn’t seem like it at the party. It’s okay now because no one is around, right?” She glares at me, but I’m frustrated, and I can’t stop myself from continuing on. “So, let’s talk. How about we talk about, oh, I don’t know—flowers?”

Her eyes narrow and her lips pinch together. “How about we not and you stop?”

Trina opens her mouth to say something else but quickly closes it, whether it’s because Emily and Fitz are now approaching or something else.

“Whatever.” I turn and walk away. Annoyance gnaws at my gut and my brain as I reach my vehicle and climb in. I rest my head back against the headrest and sigh. Trina Flynn can press my buttons like no one else.

And boy, does she.