Page 19 of Raging Fires

After that, the party was on. Kelli danced with Asa and Jake’s uncles and cousins. It was a surprise when Tiny offered, but Kelli joined him, hoping he wouldn’t step on her feet in his biker boots. They waltzed around the floor to some country and western song, and she discovered that Tiny was actually pretty good at it.

Gran woke up Aunt Lucy, who had fallen back asleep after the music moved on from the sixties, and they went home. The crowd began to thin out, and Kelli flopped down at one of the tables and put her feet up on another chair, then leaned back and closed her eyes. She was exhausted. But this evening had been... strangely fun. Not the dead car and the flying soda shower thing or the weird wedding, but the rest of it. The family and friends, the warmth.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. It wasn’t like she was going to have to live with Jake again. They would lead pretty separate lives. She’d have to keep him updated about the business, of course, but Jake was not a numbers guy. He wouldn’t be poring over the books or questioning every little thing she did with the Blue. She could get by with emailing him the figures every month or week, and they wouldn’t even have to see each other.

She opened her eyes at the scrape of a chair next to her. Jake was standing there. He set two mugs down on the table, as well as a little basket of something that smelled delicious. Kelli straightened and peered into the basket.

“Cajun fries. Yum.” She picked up one and took a bite. She hadn’t had any dinner tonight. Maybe that was why she felt a little light-headed. She probably shouldn’t have had a couple of beers on an empty stomach.

“Your friend Naomi made these a while ago. There’s almost nobody left but us.”

Kelli looked around. The bar’s lights really had gone dim now, the only lit ones were the row over the bar. Asa was sitting on a stool next to Justin Kowalski, in deep conversation; Kelli noticed the pouty girl from earlier was nowhere to be seen. Leave it to Justin to find a girl that would ditch him at a wedding.

Naomi was cleaning up, carrying bottles into the kitchen and wiping everything down. Kelli felt like she ought to go pitch in, but then she saw that Tiny was there, too, helping Naomi. And it was just so nice to sit here and have a beer and Cajun fries with Jake. He’d always been easy to just hang out with, and they had bonded a little this afternoon—not like a couple or even friends, but more like fellow disaster survivors.

“Where’s Justin’s girlfriend?” Kelli asked, nodding at the two men at the bar.

“Not sure... I think they might have had something of a disagreement in the parking lot, and she left. Took Justin’s car, though.”

Kelli snorted. “Yeah, that happens a lot. Hopefully she won’t slash the tires.”

Jake’s brows rose. “Does that happen a lot, too?”

“I don’t know if any of them have done exactly that. But his girlfriends tend to be, I don’t know, kind of psycho. One of them dumped a bunch of dye in his swimming pool.”

“How come you know Kowalski so well?” Jake swiped a fry through the ketchup and downed it.

“He has a Harley, and he comes here sometimes, usually to listen to the live music. He’s not affiliated with any of the motorcycle clubs, but everybody seems to respect him.”

“When you’re 6’7” and weigh 320, you tend to get a lot of respect.”

The sound system was still going, and Jake stood up, holding out a hand to Kelli. “Come on. Everybody’s gone. Let’s have another dance.”

Kelli took his hand and they went out onto the dance floor. It was that kind of night. Truce called, tired and relaxed, the dance floor filled with shadows, and the music some sort of mellow bluesy thing that must have been Claire’s choice.

Kelli put her hand in his, and his other hand went to her waist, spreading across her back. There was a kind of electric shock that ran through her at his touch, and yet at the same time, it was so sweetly familiar that she let out a little sigh of contentment.

They moved around the floor, and she relaxed into him as his hand pressed her a little closer. Her arm slipped naturally around him, and he curled his wrist, bringing their clasped hands to hold against his chest, the way they had always danced. Kelli leaned her head against him, and he lowered his head to rest his cheek against her hair.

His heat enveloped her, and she could feel the rhythm of his heart beneath her ear. He smelled of sweat and skin and cologne and a little of soda. She smiled to herself and said, “Sorry I threw my drink on you earlier.”

“Sorry you had to get married in a slightly incestuous family reunion T-shirt.” He grinned down at Kelli and she suddenly felt like she was five drinks in when she’d had only two. Her stomach danced with nerves, heat spreading between her legs. She couldn’t keep from pressing her body a little closer into his, and he made a noise low in his throat. His breath stirred her hair, sending a frisson of lust down through her.

God, he felt good. Like home and hunger. Excitement and anticipation. He felt like hers.

Jake kissed her head, then nuzzled into her hair. His hot breath drifted down the side of her neck, and now that heat was flooding her, turning her aching and wet. She remembered the way it felt to hook her leg around his, his thigh pressing into her, answering that ache yet stoking it higher.

He kissed her ear, her neck, murmuring her name, and his hand slipped downward, curving over her hips. She lifted her face, and Jake kissed her. The past and present mingled, a wellspring of desire shooting up in Kelli and racing throughout her body. They were barely dancing there in the shadows, their movements just enough to keep the friction between their bodies.

His tongue curled around hers, teasing and caressing, and with each stroke, a pulsing energy coiled in her abdomen. Kelli moaned softly, her hand sliding up beneath his shirt onto the smooth, muscled skin of his back. She followed the path of his spine up. He dug his fingers into her, pulling her body into his so that she felt the hard length of him.

The song had ended, but another slow song came on. She recognized this one: Angel by The Weeknd. The first dance at their original wedding. The real one.

She broke off the kiss, looking up at him. “I’m surprised you have this song on your phone. You fought me so hard on it being our first dance.”

“It’s not so bad. None of it was so bad, was it? Not really.” His face was heavy with desire, his eyes pulling her in. Deeper into the past.

She wanted so badly to follow. Then the lyrics, so prophetic of their relationship’s demise, came out of the speakers, searing through her brain. There was no going back. And she knew it.