Raging Inferno Read online

  I like his smile.

  That may not be a big deal to you but, I’ve never allowed myself to appreciate any part of another man in years. It doesn’t end with his smile though and I find myself in awe of the colorful ink that trails up his muscular arms.

  Chris didn’t have any tattoos.

  In fact, I don’t think he cared very much for them. Me, on the other hand, always loved them and have four of my own. Until Chris, tattoos were always something I admired on a man and as I continue to gawk at my student’s father I can’t help but wish for a closer look. I’m also curious as to where else they may be on his body.

  Shit, where did that come from?

  “What the hell are you staring at?” my sister questions, twisting in her seat. Snapping out of my trance, I open my mouth to object but it’s too late. Jimmy raises his hand and gives the both of us a wave.

  “Holy shit who’s the silver fox?” she asks adding a low approving whistle for emphasis.

  “Turn around,” I order through gritted teeth as I give a curt wave back to Jimmy. “Amber! Please,” I hiss, feeling my cheeks flush. “He is the parent of one of my students,” I explain quickly, reaching for the refilled margarita glass in front of me. Amused, Amber lifts an eyebrow and smirks knowingly at me.

  “His daughter got into trouble this week and he and his ex-wife had a blowout in front of me. It was awkward as all hell.”

  “He’s divorced,” she says, glancing back at Jimmy. “How convenient.”

  “Amber.”

  “Tell me more,” she demands, turning back to me. “What else do we know about muscle man?”

  “Muscleman?”

  “Look at his fucking arms.”

  I have.

  They’re huge.

  “He’s a firefighter,” I blurt. “He showed up to the meeting in his gear and when it was time to leave, he put his daughter on the firetruck with him and the guys.”

  I have no idea why all that just came out of my mouth and before I divulge anything else—like how good he looked in his bunker gear, I smack my lips together.

  “Shut the fuck up!”

  To say my sister has a thing for firemen would be an understatement.

  Amber slams her palms against the table and tension rolls off me as I watch her release an exasperated sigh.

  “We know I love a man in uniform.”

  “You love anything with a penis,” I argue.

  “This is true,” she agrees with a nod before waving a hand dismissively. “Forget about me though. This is fucking perfect!”

  “Excuse me?” I regret the question as soon as it slips past my lips and I watch her push away the empty glass. Folding her hands on top of the table, she steals another long look at Jimmy and grins mischievously.

  “It’s time for you to get back on the horse and I can’t think of anyone better suited for your first ride,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows.

  Shaking my head, I dismiss the thoughts creeping into my mind. The alcohol starts to hit me and I grab a stack of napkins from the table. Fanning myself, I lean forward and look my sister dead in the eyes.

  “Absolutely not,” I protest.

  “Why not? He keeps looking this way.”

  “He’s looking over here because you’re making a scene.”

  “What’s his name?” she questions ignoring me

  “You must think I’m a real idiot. I’m not telling you his name,” I hiss, knowing very well the moment I tell her his name, she’s going to march her ass over there and do something stupid.

  “Stop,” she replies, rolling her eyes. “I didn’t ask you for his girth.”

  Sweet mother of God!

  “Amber!”

  “I bet he’s huge. We’re going to have to get you lube.”

  “Jimmy! His name is fucking Jimmy,” I cry out, hoping she’ll shut up.

  I catch a glimpse of her smile before I cover my face with my hands and groan.

  “I want to go home,” I mumble against my palms.

  Amber pulls my hands away from my face and sighs.

  “Too much?” she asks, cocking her head to the side.

  “A little bit,” I reply sarcastically.

  “I’m sorry,” she says, giving my hand a squeeze. “I’m just worried about you. I don’t want you to live life stuck on pause. You’re young, beautiful and have so many years ahead of you. I’d hate for those years to pass and for you to look back wishing you had done things differently.”

  The humor and good natured teasing leaves her, causing her features to soften and I see the genuine concern reflected in her eyes.

  “I know I need to move on,” I rasp with emotion lodged deep in my throat. “I just need to find the guts to do it.”

  “Well, that’s a start,” Amber says softly.

  “It’s something,” I mutter. She squeezes my hand reassuringly and I sigh, willing the tears not to fall. It’s the first time I’ve said those words aloud and I’m not sure how I feel about that.

  “Does that mean the fireman is up for grabs?”

  “It means,” I start, diverting my eyes toward Jimmy. To my surprise, he’s no longer seated at the table and neither is his daughter. My eyes roam the room looking for them until I hear Gabby behind me.

  “Hi, Ms. Moscato,” she greets.

  Instantly my sister’s eyes become wide as saucers as I slowly turn and face Jimmy and his daughter.

  “Gabriela,” I reply before clearing my throat and offering a tight smile. “Mr. Casale.”

  “How you doing, Ms. Moscato?” Jimmy questions, flashing me his smile. For a moment, I wonder if he heard my sister but then he looks at his daughter. “We didn’t mean to disrupt you but, we were heading out and Gabby wanted to say hello.”

  “I also wanted to tell you, I’m going to do whatever it takes to graduate,” she announces proudly. “Dad and I talked about it and he said you think I can pull it off.”

  “I do,” I reply, lifting my gaze to Jimmy. He winks at me and I swear my chest tightens.

  Maybe I do need to get laid.

  Clearing my throat, I shake my head and dismiss the crazy notion.

  “When you return to school, we’ll meet and devise a plan. Night school will be a must.”

  “Whatever it takes,” Jimmy interjects. My eyes slice back to him and again he gives me his smile. “We won’t take up any more of your time,” he continues. “Like I said, Gab wanted to say hello.”

  “Yeah, I’ll see you on Monday, Ms. Moscato.”

  “I’ll be waiting,” I reply.

  “Enjoy your night, Ms. Moscato.”

  “You too, Mr. Casale.”

  “Jimmy.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Call me, Jimmy or fucking Jimmy whatever you prefer.”

  “But—” The protest dies on my tongue as I realize he overhead my conversation. However, it glides over Amber’s head as she rolls her eyes and chastises me.

  “Oh for Christ’s sake, the man wants you to call him by his first name,” Amber says, causing Jimmy to raise an eyebrow. “You can call her, Melissa,” she says before turning to Gabriella. “You, kid, stick with the Moscato thing. She needs her job.”

  I love my sister—truly, I love her.

  Just not today.

  Chapter Five

  Burn Me

  Aside from the call about a gas odor, it was a slow night at the firehouse which meant we had a lot of time on our hands. My partner, Frankie, was bored and in the mood to bust balls. Lucky for me and the rest of the guys, a new probie was assigned to our ladder a day ago and most of the night was spent breaking the poor bastard in.

  “You cooking tonight?” Frankie questions, tossing a football over my head. Colt catches it and tosses it back, almost clipping the back of my head.

  “He’s talking to you, Casale,” Colt says.

  “Yeah, that shrimp dish you made last week is calling my name,” Frankie asserts.

  “The one with the zucchini noodles
,” Colt agrees.

  “You fucks are spoiled,” I mutter jokingly as I make my way toward the freezer. I’m not complaining. I enjoy feeding the guys. The kitchen is my throne around here and when I’m on duty everyone eats like a king.

  Tony and the probie, Pete enter the kitchen as I sift through the freezer for shrimp.

  “Casale is cooking,” Frankie announces.

  Slamming the freezer shut, I rise to my full height and meet their gazes.

  “Not without a trip to the supermarket. Nothing in here but a loin of pork,” I add tapping my hand against the stainless steel door.

  “You can cook?” Pete asks, lifting a shocked eyebrow.

  “Watch and learn, kid,” I tell him before turning to Frankie. “You’re driving, go grab the keys to the truck while I call Gab to make sure she got to night school.”

  “How’s that going?” Tony questions.

  Pulling the phone out of my pocket, I think about the loaded question for a moment. So much has gone on since that first meeting at the high school.

  “How’s it living with a teenage girl or how is she doing with school?”

  “I meant the school thing. I’m no fool, I imagine it’s some kind of hell living with a teenager of any kind,” Tony answers.

  “As a guy who has five sisters, I can attest it is one hundred percent torture living with a teenage girl,” Frankie interjects, patting me on the back. “That is why I am never reproducing. My luck they’ll all be girls and I’ll have to relive those years,” he says, shuddering at the thought. “God, the thought alone gives me the creeps.”

  “It’s not that bad,” I counter.

  So what if she takes an hour in the shower. It doesn’t matter that I can barely find the counter in the bathroom anymore or that I almost washed my hair with a bottle of Nair. I’ve gotten used to smelling like a fruit salad too. Her room looks like a bomb went off inside and there are clothes everywhere but, she takes the garbage out every other Tuesday and since she returned to school, she’s really been trying.

  That first day back, she met with Melissa just as she promised. Together they went over her credits and adjusted her schedule, adding two more classes. Melissa also helped get her enrolled in night classes on Mondays and Wednesdays. On Saturday’s she volunteers at a nursing home for extra credits too.

  With a full plate, she hasn’t seen her mother and I’m not pushing the issue either. Gabby doesn’t need any distractions. Lisa knows how to get in touch with our daughter. If she’s going to make it right, it’s going to be on her own merit with no interference from me.

  Lifting the phone to my ear, I listen as it rings three times before Gab picks up.

  “Hey, Dad, I’m walking into class,” she says in one breath.

  “Alright, I was just checking to make sure you got there safely.”

  “Yeah and don’t worry about me getting home, Sienna said she’ll drive me.”

  “Sounds good,” I say, following the guys toward the truck. “Call me when you get in the house.”

  “Okay. Oh and don’t forget to sign the progress report Ms. Moscato sent home. I have to bring it to her tomorrow.”

  At the mention of Melissa, I flashback to the night we saw her at Jose Tejas. One glance and I couldn’t stop myself from staring. I wasn’t even inconspicuous about it and when Gabby caught me ogling her teacher, she started giving me the four-one-one on her. It wasn’t much but, I know she’s not married, she’s got a kid and lives next door to Gab’s best friend. After I paid the check, Gabby insisted we go say hello and despite my protests, I followed her like a dope. That’s when I overheard her talking about me. Well—it was more like I heard her shout my name.

  Jimmy. His name is fucking Jimmy.

  I liked the way it sounded coming from her mouth and that night I thought of all the ways I could make her scream fucking Jimmy again.

  Too bad that was the last time I saw her or heard her sweet voice. It’s been nearly a month later and I still can’t get her off my mind. I wasn’t kidding about her having a face you don’t forget and I quickly learned there is nothing about Melissa Moscato you forget.

  Not her face or her voice and certainly not her body. That body—goddamn.

  “Dad!”

  Shit.

  “Sign the progress report, got it,” I respond. Clearing my throat, I climb into the truck beside Frankie.

  “The teacher is ready to start. I’ll call you when I get home,” she says quickly not giving me a chance to say goodbye before she disconnects the call.

  Ten minutes later Frankie pulls up to the supermarket and parks in the fire lane. We all jump out and I grab a cart.

  “Hey, Probie,” Frankie calls, throwing an arm around Pete. “Do me a solid, will you? Head on over to the pharmacy department and ask him what’s good for hemorrhoids these days.”

  “Dude, come on,” Pete groans.

  “And don’t come back with some bullshit Preparation H either,” Frankie adds, giving him a pat on the back. Pete takes off for the pharmacy and the rest of us split up. Frankie heads to the seafood department for the fish, Colt starts for the canned tomatoes and Tony takes off in search for a loaf of semolina. As for me, I head to the produce aisle for the zucchini noodles and the rest of the ingredients.

  I’m just about finished grabbing everything I need when I spot Melissa standing in front of a mountain of eggplants with a perplexed look on her face. Taking her in, I lean against the wagon and watch as she lifts one and then another before frowning and putting them both back.

  “The lighter they are the fewer seeds they have,” I say, pushing off the cart. Startled she lifts her eyes to mine and I make my way toward her. Her tongue sneaks out and runs across her plump lips and like a moth to a flame, I’m drawn to her.

  “Mr. Casale,” she stammers, running her fingers nervously through her long hair. Cocking my head to the side, I narrow my eyes and playfully smirk at her.

  “I thought we moved past the formalities,” I say, stepping in front of her. While reaching for an eggplant, my arm brushes against hers and I hear her inhale a sharp breath. Like the night at the restaurant, she is clearly nervous around me and I can’t help but wonder why. Maybe the scene Lisa and I made in her office is the reason she’s uncomfortable or the fact every time I see her I blatantly stare at her. Whatever it is, I want to change it.

  “You should call me Jimmy,” I tell her.

  “Oh,” she murmurs. Raising an eyebrow, she watches as I study the eggplants trying to select the best one. “Why is that?” she asks.

  “Well, for starters I’ve decided I’m going to call you Melissa from now on,” I pause, taking a moment to smile back at her. “Sisters orders and all that,” I add before glancing back at the eggplants and picking one from the pile. It doesn’t appear bruised and as I drop it from one hand to another, I decide it’s light enough not to be loaded with seeds.

  “I should probably apologize for her,” she mutters.

  “Nah,” I say, shaking my head.

  “She’s great,” I add, bringing us face to face.

  “She’s a pain in the ass but, she means well,” she replies, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. A beat of silence stretches between us and we both just stand there staring at one another trying to decide what to say next. In fascination, I watch as a shy smile spreads across her pretty mouth and the urge to touch her lips rolls through me.

  Diverting her eyes to my hands, she tips her chin to the eggplant.

  “They all feel the same to me,” she admits as I take her wrist, turn her palm over and drop the eggplant into her hand.

  “Feel that one,” I insist, watching her fingers tighten around it.

  “It’s nice and hard,” she murmurs. Her cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink as she slaps her free hand to her forehead. “That sounded ridiculous,” she groans, causing me to grin.

  “You don’t want a soft eggplant,” I tease.

  “No, I suppose that wouldn’t be g
ood,” she replies, dropping her hand from her face. “I’m not usually this socially awkward,” she blurts, releasing a frustrated sigh. “Thanks for helping,” she adds, raising the eggplant with a sigh before tossing it into her basket.

  “It’s the least I can do,” I tell her, not ready to end the conversation. “Thank you for helping Gabby get on the right track.”

  “Like I told Mrs. Liconti, Gabriella is a smart girl,” she says, lifting her gaze to me. “I’m happy to help.”

  Hearing her mention Lisa’s name forces the smile to disappear from my face.

  “You spoke to Lisa?”

  “Yes, she called my office to see how Gabriella was doing,” she pauses, cocking her head to the side. “Judging by our conversation, I take it she hasn’t had much involvement?”

  “No,” I reply, shaking my head. “Neither of us have spoken with her,” I add, shrugging my shoulders. “It’s good to know she called the school and showed some kind of interest.”

  “I guess there is still tension,” she comments.

  “What gave it away?” I ask dryly.

  “Divorce is tough.”

  “Yeah, it is,” I agree, drawing in a deep breath. “What about you?”

  “What about me?” The moment the question leaves her lips she looks away.

  “You married?” I press, already knowing the answer but desperate to keep her talking.

  “No,” she whispers, lifting her eyes back to mine. “I was never married.”

  There’s nothing wrong with not getting married. Knowing what I know now, I personally don’t know if I would do it again. I can’t say I regret it because of the girls but, I’m not sure I would take the plunge another time. However, there is a sadness to Melissa when she shares her marital status, one filled with regret. A sadness that speaks of broken promises and loss. I’m about to try to make light of it when I hear Frankie call out to me.

  “We’re ready to roll out of here, Casale.”