The Firefighter's Appeal. Elizabeth Otto

      “NO WAY IN HELL, Doug.” Lily turned sharply, prepared for a stare down with her father. Irritation and lack of caffeine had her every last nerve on fire. The message on her answering machine from her ex, Rob, yesterday still made her edgy. Almost a year with no word and he had the nerve to call to see if he could stop by when he came to town at the end of the month. She preferred that he stay in Mississippi with his new girlfriend, because, frankly, Lily had nothing to say.

      More unsettling than the unexpected phone call were the nightmares. Every night since the fund-raiser, she’d had the same unsettling dream. Always about Katja and the fire, and Lily, seeing herself lying on the grass as the building burned, reaching for her sister but not being able to get her.

      Sitting just to the side within the dream was a fire engine with glaring, revolving lights. Every night, she turned toward the lights and the truck would disappear, prompting her to wake up with a heavy sense of confusion. It was confounding and unsettling, especially since she had stopped having nightmares about the fire a few months ago.

      And now her father wanted her to do this before she’d gotten her feelings under control.

      Lily cocked her head and crossed her arms, mirroring her father’s posture. “Can’t someone else go?” Like father, like daughter.

      Doug Ashden scowled and stuck his chin out. “Everyone else is busy. I know the appointment time is a little unconventional, but it’s a bar...and you’re young. You like the nightlife, don’t ya?”

      Lily enjoyed her job as a general contractor for Ashden Construction and Design. Building and designing were in her blood, and as much as she liked the physical labor of creating a structure, she liked generating ideas more. She didn’t just meet with clients to consult on their projects, she also drafted out plans and brought them to life. Lily had a pile of drafts to work on, but being second-in-command meant that when the other employees were gone, she picked up the slack.

      In this case, it wasn’t the meeting that had her stomach in knots—it was the bar.

      “Stay and have a drink or dance or something.” Doug waved an impatient hand.

      Or something. Right. Because the last time she’d engaged in “or something” at that bar, she’d had her tongue down the throat of a man she would rather not see again. Lily shifted her weight from one foot to the other as her body tingled at the memory.

      She clenched her jaw hard enough to grind her molars. She needed to forget that night had ever happened. Not only was it out of character for her to get so physical with a man she didn’t know, but she’d done it with a goddamned firefighter.

      Doug made an impatient sound when she didn’t respond quickly enough for his liking. “You look like you could use a drink.”

      His gruff tone made it clear she was supposed to obey without question, though he knew her well enough to know that she liked to buck him. She was one of the few people, besides her brother, Lincoln, who could talk back to Doug Ashden and make it out alive.

      And there’d be talking back, all right. Being the general contractor for Ashden Construction and Design might mean that Lily went where the jobs were, but not this time. She glanced at the new-client form on the edge of her father’s desk. Throwing Aces was printed across the top. God.

      “Are you giving me permission to drink on the job?” Her quip was meant to ground her thoughts into work and not on Garrett the Bartender’s very talented mouth. The hurt and surprise in his expression when she’d recoiled from him was a doozy, though. She’d almost felt guilty about hurting his feelings. A man like Garrett, well, rejection probably wasn’t something he’d come across too often. She’d stomped on his ego a little, but he’d get over it. He’d probably replaced her with some hot blonde the minute he’d stepped foot back inside the bar. Nothing to feel guilty about.

      Doug smirked. “It’s a bar. I expect it. In moderation, of course.”

      “Of course.” Lily sighed and pushed the new-client form around the desk with one finger. “So Nick can’t go because...?”

      “He’s busy.”

      “And Raul?”

      Doug sniffed and gave her a hard stare. “Out of town. Why are you hedging about this damn meeting? Seriously, Lily. You meet with the client. You talk to him about what he wants. You leave.”

      Her father’s harsh tone could melt weaker hearts into a puddle of submission, but she was used to it—had learned from his no-nonsense personality over the years. They were certainly cut from the same cloth, and if she wasn’t careful, he’d see right through her. No way did she need her father wandering in on the hot-fireman replay flickering in the back of her mind. Or the regret she was struggling with.

      “You go, Doug.” Lily narrowed her eyes. She and her dad had always had a tenuous relationship, and the habit of calling him by his first name she’d developed when she was a rebellious teen had stuck.

      It was an easy way to remember that her dad had never really given her the same affection he had shown her sister, Katja.

      Despite being night-and-day different, she and Katja had been as close as sisters could be. Katja was athletic and bubbly to Lily’s artsy moodiness, but somehow they’d balanced each other out.

      Lily always suspected that Doug identified more with the choices Katja had made—working hard in school, staying away from boys, going to a good college. While Lily had never considered her own choices bad, they paled in comparison. Mediocre grades, changing boyfriends like sweaters, decorating her body with ink and getting a two-year degree instead of a four-year like Katja. Even in their adult years, Doug had leaned toward her sister more, like a plant to the sun, leaving Lily in the shadows.

      Doug threw his hands in the air. “No, you’re going! And we’re done with this conversation. 8:00 p.m., tomorrow night. End of story.”

      Lily snatched the paper off the desk, tempted to crumple it in her hand. She couldn’t keep arguing with her father without bringing up questions she wasn’t willing to answer.

      Bitterness clawed at her throat. Two years ago, she’d had the chance to move to Nashville to work with her twin brother, Lincoln, but she’d stayed in Kansas with the plan to open a small architectural showroom with Katja. She wished now that she’d gone. Linc had been her one salvation this past year. His quiet contemplative nature had offered her a refuge when the tension with Doug was too much to bear.

      Lily blew her bangs out of her eyes. She wouldn’t be thinking about missed chances and regret if the firefighters had done their job in the first place. She rubbed her temple with a thumb as that little nugget worked its way in.

      “Look, Lily, we need this contract. Brad Mateo is talking major expansion to the bar here. A complete overhaul of the current building, plus landscaping, an outdoor volleyball pit, et cetera. I need—we need—you to secure this contract.” His eyes softened for a moment, allowing Lily to catch a glimpse of worry. “You know how slow things have been. This contract would carry us through clear to next spring.”

      She couldn’t deny that business had taken a dive in the past few years, thanks to a tough economy. The summer months had brought them enough work to break even and make payroll, but not much to pad the bottom line. She’d already been lowering bids and cutting into profit margins to try to entice signed contracts, but to no avail. The work was simply harder to get than it used to be.

      Their situation wasn’t unique, although apparently people still liked to drink and party their sorrows away if the Throwing Aces could afford to expand.

      “I understand—” she began, but Doug cut her off with a shake of his head.

      “I don’t think you do. If we don’t get this contract, I’ll be laying off for the winter.”

      Lily frowned. Her dad was a builder by nature and trade. He’d rather be on the job, swinging a nail gun and barking orders to the crew, than doing the talking, and sometimes the careful wooing, it took