Burn For You

Chapter 1-1

Chapter 1

It’s just drinks.

But as she stepped out of her car, Delaney Newell smoothed her sweaty palms over the skirt she’d worn like she was on an actual date.

No. I wore a skirt like a girl who likes skirts.

Never mind that she hadn’t actually done that in years. She did like skirts. When she wanted to look nice and show off her legs. It was just…there had been nobody she’d wanted to do that for in a long time. Nobody except Sean Murphy, her study buddy and the object of the deep and embarrassing crush she didn’t have the courage to do anything about. The gorgeous, sexy firefighter, who hadn’t seen her as anything but a classmate. Or so she’d thought, until he’d asked her out for drinks to celebrate the completion of their EMT certification.

She’d said yes. Of course she had. And then she’d spent the last few hours working herself up to an absolute dither analyzing what the hell it meant. Was it just a friendly gesture or was it more?

It doesn’t mean anything.

But oh, Delaney wanted it to mean something.

It’s not going to mean a damned thing if you don’t march yourself through that door to meet him.

She didn’t see his truck, but the parking lot of The Mudcat Tavern was packed, and the overflow stretched on down the street. For just a moment, she quelled at the idea of walking in, alone, in front of all those people. The very notion of so many eyes on her made her physically ill. The stares and the whispers—and the not whispers—had dropped off over the past several months. It wasn’t like it had been. But it still went against the grain to do anything that potentially drew attention to herself.

It’s busy. Nobody will notice you.

She’d gotten good at making herself invisible the past couple of years.

Squaring her shoulders, Delaney went inside. For a night without live music, the bar was unusually busy. The chalkboard hanging in the entryway announced Beat the heat! $2 Pitchers, with a list of beer brands underneath. That would do it. The August heat was still oppressive, even this close to sundown. The roar of conversation pressed down on her as she made a slow circuit, scanning tables and booths for Sean without actually meeting anybody else’s eyes. After two laps through, she admitted the truth. He wasn’t here.

He didn’t stand you up.

For all her lack of confidence, Delaney knew Sean well enough to be certain of that. He wasn’t cruel. If he wasn’t here, it was because he got delayed. Maybe he caught a fire. The Wishful Volunteer Fire Department had been hopping with the drought conditions hanging over this part of Mississippi since May.

She checked her phone for a text. Nothing. Well, she was obnoxiously punctual, so maybe he was running a little late. She’d just get something to drink at the bar while she waited. Slipping through the crowd, she found a little open spot and bellied up to the long, polished stretch of wood. Adele Daly, the owner of The Mudcat, moved like a whirlwind behind it, pouring shots and pulling pints as if she had six arms.

“What can I getcha?”

Delaney started to just order a water. But on the off-chance that Sean wasn’t able to make it, she didn’t want tonight to be a total waste. She’d come out to celebrate. “Whatever hard cider is on tap, please.”

By the time she had the drink in her hand, there was still no Sean. After a few moments’ debate, she sent a quick text saying she was here. If he was running late, maybe that would prompt him to say so. Although, if he was still at a fire, he certainly wouldn’t be checking his messages.

Delaney sipped at her cider and wished she didn’t feel so ill at ease. Maybe she should’ve talked one of her girlfriends into coming as a buffer. Just in case. Not that the list of possibilities there was long. She’d been dropped by most of her so-called friends and cut herself off from the majority of the rest. Keisha would’ve come, but Delaney remembered she had that out of town wedding this weekend. And anyway, she hadn’t wanted a buffer in case this was actually meant to be a date.

“Why Delaney Newell, don’t you look a picture?”

Her shoulders tensed at the oh-so-familiar voice. This was not the easy drawl she’d been expecting. This was the stuff of nightmares. Ruthlessly forcing herself to move slow and steady—the picture of unaffected—Delaney sipped at her cider and turned. “Hello, Bryce.”

Her ex made a slow perusal of her body, from head to toe and back again, lingering on the legs bared by the skirt she now regretted wearing. Once upon a time, she’d have found such attentions flattering. Once upon a time, she’d loved him. That had been Before. Now that hungry look just made her skin crawl. His smile spread, slick and oily. Had he always had this creeper vibe and she just hadn’t seen it?

“Want some company?”

“I really don’t.” She couldn’t even regret the bite to her tone.

“Oh now, don’t be like that.”

“I’m waiting for someone.”

An expression of yeah sure flickered over his face. “I just wanted to talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you.” Please, please let Sean get here soon.

“I know we didn’t part on the best of terms.”

“You cheated on me. And unless something’s changed, you’re still with Gina.”

Bryce dialed up the sleazy smile. “She never has understood me as well as you did.”

This man represented the worst time of her life. She didn’t want him back. Didn’t want to associate with him. She didn’t want anyone to even see them together because that would just start the gossip engines up anew. She’d worked too hard and too long to overcome all that.

Seeming to realize his current tack wouldn’t work, Bryce shifted gears. “You’ve been doing well for yourself. I heard you went back to school.”

Delaney’s fingers pressed so hard against her glass, she wondered the thing didn’t shatter. “Why do you care?”

“I always cared about you, sugar. And I just wanted to say how proud I am of what you’ve done with yourself the past couple of years.”

So he’d destroyed her life, and now that she’d started to get everything back together, he was sniffing back around? Words, harsh and hateful, clogged in her throat. But she didn’t let them fly. That would make him too important, and giving them voice would draw too much attention to herself and the situation. With a dawning horror, she watched him reach out a hand to brush the hair from her cheek. She wanted to stumble back, not to let those fingers skim over her skin. He didn’t have the right to touch her anymore. But the bar was packed and she barely had room to move. Warring with the cringe was an equally strong desire not to cause a scene. As her instincts battled, her feet remained rooted in place, and she understood that despite the bar full of people, she was utterly alone, with no one here to save her.