Up In Flames. Kira Sinclair

prepared. Knew Erik was in town.

      Today she wasn’t ready. Her mouth was bone dry. So many emotions careened through her. She had about as much control as a runaway car in the middle of an action movie. Which pissed her off.

      Correction—the man touching her like he still had the right to pissed her off.

      Jerking away from him, Lola sucked in a harsh breath.

      “Lola. It’s good to see you.”

      “Erik. I can’t say the same.”

      That wasn’t strictly true. Because even as anger—anger she’d been harboring for the last six years—burst through her, she couldn’t stop her gaze from ripping down his body. Cataloging the differences and ensuring herself he was whole and safe.

      He was bigger—pure muscle. Considering the work he did now, that was no surprise. Smoke jumping wasn’t for weaklings. It was, however, for daredevils and adrenaline junkies. Erik McKnight was both.

      Hurt flashed through his eyes but was gone before she could even blink. Rocking back on his heels, he stuffed both hands into his jeans pockets. “I’m sorry you still feel that way.”

      Wow, so he’d finally issued her an apology. Hardly for the right reasons, though.

      “What are you doing here?”

      “Didn’t your dad or Colt tell you?”

      No, obviously they hadn’t. But her anger now had a new direction, and the minute she was finished here they were both going to get a serious tongue lashing. The men in her life were all oblivious morons.

      “I’m—” his gaze pulled away, focusing on the sky behind her “—taking a couple months off.”

      There was a story there. Six years ago she would have asked for an explanation. Today she didn’t want to care, so she kept her mouth shut.

      The smile he flashed her was without any of the humor that usually lit his face. “Came home to spend some time with Mom. Your dad’s letting me pick up some shifts at the station.”

      Oh, goody.

      Lola nodded, because what else was she supposed to do? “Well, good luck with that.” Hooking her thumb over her shoulder, she said, “I’m just gonna go...”

      “...do anything that gets you far away from me.”

      “You said it, not me.”

      “That doesn’t make it untrue.”

      She shrugged. He wasn’t wrong, but her mother had raised her to be too polite to say so.

      Putting one foot behind the other, she slowly backed away a short distance before he said, “You look good, Lola. I... I really am glad we ran into each other.”

      Was he serious? Lola stared at him for several seconds, searching his face before she realized that he was. Which made the anger bubbling up inside her finally burst free.

      “Did you take a hit to the head, Erik? You act like I haven’t been right here for the past six years, exactly where you left me when you ran away. Ran away when my brother was lying in a hospital bed, broken and bleeding.”

      “Because I put him there.” Erik’s gruff voice whispered over her, a swell of words that made her insides quake with the memories of those horrible days following Colt’s accident.

      “You’re right. You did.” The accusation she’d wanted to scream at him for so long fell between them like a whisper through a quiet church.

      But she didn’t feel any better. In fact, the ache in her chest felt worse.

      “That, right there, is why I left. I could see it every time you looked at me.”

      “See what?”

      “Blame.” His stark expression ripped through her. And she’d be lying if she didn’t acknowledge the small part of her that wanted to reach out to him and offer him comfort.

      But he was right. She did blame him. For so many things.

      A blast of childlike laughter startled her as a couple of kids darted through the corner of the parking lot several feet away.

      No, she wasn’t having this conversation here, now. It wasn’t the time.

      “Whatever.” Lola started to take a step back again. “It’s ancient history and no longer matters.”

      “Lo.” Sean walked up next to her, startling her as he flung an arm around her waist again. This time, she didn’t correct him when his fingers swept dangerously close to her ass.

      Erik’s gaze narrowed, taking in the familiarity and comfort of Sean’s embrace. She couldn’t help delighting in his reaction.

      But mostly she just wanted this encounter to end.

      “I saved you a steak, but I can’t fend off the vultures forever.”

      “Great,” she said, looking up into his open expression.

      Sean flashed her a smile, understanding and concern running beneath the surface. He squeezed at her hip, reassurance she didn’t need but appreciated. Why couldn’t she want him?

      Holding out his other hand, Sean waited for Erik to shake it. “Erik, good to see you back, man. Thanks for picking up that shift for me. I really appreciate it.”

      Without waiting for a response, Sean swung them around, leading her in the direction of the pavilion. “Thanks,” she murmured.

      “Anything you need, beautiful. I’m your guy.”

      God, why couldn’t that be true? Even now, she could feel the tingle of energy crackling across her skin. The fine hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end. Not because Sean was touching her, but because she could feel Erik’s gaze raking down her spine.

      He’d always had that effect on her. On her body. Lola couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t wanted him. From the moment she’d discovered that boys were beautiful instead of gross, Erik McKnight had been the source of all her fantasies.

      And apparently, not even Erik stomping on her heart was enough to halt her bone-deep reaction.

      Lola fought the urge to glance back over her shoulder. Nope, she was stronger than that.

      Or she wanted to be, because her body was still in a riot, even from the brief physical contact of his hard chest and muscled thighs.

      Damn him for making her ache in a way no one else ever had.

      * * *

      “HERE, I THINK you need this.” A day after running into Erik, Hope Harper plunked a shot glass down onto the table in front of Lola, spilling the amber liquid.

      She wasn’t wrong. “I shouldn’t.”

      “Seriously, Lola, every girl deserves the numbness of alcohol when the ex unexpectedly shows up,” Tatum Huntley drawled. She’d know, considering not long ago her husband returned from the dead after three years.

      Picking up the glass, Lola took a deep breath, slammed the drink back and came up sputtering.

      “Holy shit. I thought that was rum or something. Why would you give me cinnamon whiskey?”

      Lexi Newcomb plopped back into her seat across the table. “I thought you liked cinnamon.”

      Lola did, but not when she wasn’t expecting that kind of burn.

      Looking at the women surrounding her, she was grateful that the minute she’d called on her friends they’d dropped everything to come ply her with alcohol and provide sound advice.

      She definitely needed both right now.

      “So, you literally turned around and ran straight into him?”

      Lola wiped her hands down