Chapter 6

6

OPAL

W hen I first saw the huge, strong firefighter running through his training exercises, I was struck not only by how gorgeous Liam was, but also how meticulous. It looked like he took a great deal of care when carrying out each step of the exercises.

That was reinforced last night when he sent me a text barely an hour after he left, saying it was in fact a very small job and not to worry. Two hours after that, he told me that the cleanup was done, and he was on his way home to shower and eat, and he hoped I was having a good night.

I've heard horror stories of men being terrible at communication, so this feels like a good sign.

I spent the entire night wondering if this connection is real. Could an incredible man like him really take me seriously? He's such a sensible, dependable man. The solid, upstanding citizen type. Not the kind of guy to get involved with a weirdo artsy girl taking a gap year.

In the morning, I clean the entire kitchen to help Angie out, since she's working all day. I understand this year off paid for by my mom is an incredible luxury and is going to set me up with a fabulous portfolio. It's also teaching me time management, since I always make sure I get some work done at least six days a week.

I've just finished mopping the entire apartment when my phone pings.

Liam: Hey, I have today off. Want to bring your camera over and film the flames of my barbecue? Then I can cook burgers and we can have a long, lazy afternoon lunch.

My response is almost instant.

Sure. Where do you live? Can I walk there?

Liam: I'll show you when I pick you up at noon.

Cool. Thanks!

Crap, that barely gives me enough time to get ready. Normally I don’t care what I wear when I'm working, but I want to look good, in case he wants to get handsy again. I blush from the thought of us being totally alone.

My hands quiver as I flip quickly through my clothing, looking for something comfortable so that I don't get antsy and uptight. A slightly baggy blue sweater over leggings will hopefully hit the casual-but-cute vibe I'm going for.

When Liam arrives, his eyes light up the second he sees me, so I guess I hit the mark there. On the drive to his house, he peppers me with technical questions about my photography, and what cameras I use. I think it's definitely another good sign that he's taking this kind of an interest.

"So, is this stuff for school?" he asks.

"Yes and no. I did one year of art school, now I'm looking at other programs. I was working like crazy for a long time, then Mom got a huge promotion at work. She's in pharmaceutical sales. So since she's suddenly making bank, she's supporting me for a year so I can take the time to focus on my portfolio and develop my techniques."

Liam nods. "That's very generous of her."

"Right? I'm definitely going to be making her an incredible video birthday card this year."

He chuckles, turning into a long driveway that leads to a two-story red brick house with crisp, white trim. It looks like something straight out of a story book. "This whole house is just for you?" I blurt.

He comes around the side to help me out of the truck, then keeps an arm around me. "Yeah. It's a great location, and came with a lot of land, so I jumped on it. Maybe someday I'll have a whole family here, who knows."

There's something odd in his tone, as if he's forcing himself to sound light. It seems strange that he would throw his intentions out in the open so soon. Or maybe it's a subtle warning for Miss Weirdo: if I'm not into the whole marriage and kids and vegetable garden situation, now would be the time for me to run.

Yeah, he’s not getting rid of me that easily.

Liam takes the camera bag from my shoulder, then holds my hand as we walk into the house. I'm relieved that the inside is clean, but less picture perfect. The bookshelf is overly stuffed in a non-artsy way. The cushions on the couch are clearly for comfort, not decoration. One end of the long dining table is set up as a makeshift office space. It's homey and comfortable, and I can already picture myself spending a lot of time here. Mainly because I already want to spend every possible moment near Liam.

We stop and he pours us each a coffee in his huge farmhouse kitchen, then we head out to the back deck. His concrete paving stones are the fancy interlocking kind, and the barbeque is fifteen feet from the house.

Wow . Now that’s a barbeque.

He chuckles as my jaw drops. It could easily cook thirty burgers at once, probably more. One side has an iron grill, the other a flat surface for frying. It’s massive.

"My house is vaguely in the middle of the VFFT catchment area. So sometimes I'll have the guys back for a quick cookout. A couple of us put this monster together," he explains.

"It's amazing." I step closer, peeking into the strangely deep belly of the beast. "So you basically make a big wide campfire in here?"

"Exactly. It takes a while to create some charcoal so the heat is nice and evenly distributed. I'll show you. You can film it if you like."

Liam brings me another coffee, then I plop into a chair to watch his huge muscular frame as he quickly chops cedar logs into kindling. If I had the camera on him right now and could talk him into taking his shirt off, we could probably make a fortune. His body is a work of art.

Over the next hour, he arranges different types of fire zones across the grill. High and leggy. Short and even. Intense and bright. He's an expert at playing with flames. In less than half an hour, I get a bunch of incredible stock footage, with Liam holding flat black or white pieces of paper a foot behind the flames to create a clean background.

Quite frankly, he's the best assistant a girl could ever hope for. Yet every time we’re both at least three feet away from the heat, he finds a way to make our own. The way his palm grazes slowly across my outer thigh. My hip. The curve of my ass. The way my hand trails along his chest, slowly sliding my fingers across his abs.

This is the only time in my life I've had a camera in my hand and wanted to put it down. But I force myself to be disciplined, and I capture some incredible detailed footage. Zooming in more, I'm hypnotized by the dancing flames until Liam clears his throat.

"You're, ah, getting extremely close there."

His comment makes me realize that I'd had the lens within a foot of the flames. My feet automatically shuffle backward. "Crap. Thanks."

It feels like an amazing sign that he's not stopping me, just guiding me – even though it's clear he has reservations about what I do. He trusts me.

Once I feel like I've captured enough footage for the day, Liam makes burgers stuffed with cheese and minced red bell pepper, adding "incredible chef" to the list of things I really like about him.

I'm not accustomed to his attention to detail. Would I like extra cheese or caramelized onions on top? Do I have enough ice in my lemon seltzer? Am I a sit-in-the-sun or prefer-the-shade kind of gal? It's wonderful to feel so pampered and let him be in charge of everything.

By the time we're roasting marshmallows at twilight, our conversation has twisted all over the place, from favorite childhood foods to the best way to shop for stuff online. He loves my trick of leaving something in your cart for twenty-four hours to see if they'll poke you the next day with a discount code.

I love that even though Liam is older than me, and obviously worldly, he listens to me as if every word I say is important. He's as excited to learn from me as I am from him.

I've always been terrified what people will think when they discover I'm an artist. The oddball name doesn't exactly help. Plus my chosen subject matter is the sort of thing that puts a lot of people on edge.

We have one more marshmallow each, then curl up together on a massive bench that's more like a wooden couch. From the way his heavy arm curls around to “keep me warm”, I have a pretty good idea what he's thinking.

"Opal." His low voice is husky. "When the sun goes down, and I invite you inside, I hope you realize I'm only going to get certain ideas if you want me to." His eyebrows go up and down as he grins, but he's reading my expression carefully.

My answer is to slip my fingers into the back of his hair and pull his lips to mine. I think this is the first kiss that I've initiated, and he responds by pulling our bodies together, our mouths exploring hungrily. I could get so lost in this man. In his sweetness. In his warmth. In the way he's so open, and sometimes a bit silly, especially when teasing me.

Mostly, though, it’s the way he makes me feel. Like an adult who's making her own decisions. Everyone else in my life has known me since I was a child. Liam only knows grownup me. It fills me with hope that he's going to see me as an equal.

I want to be his girlfriend. To allow…whatever this is between us to develop.

Liam pulls me closer, our chests brushing together as I realize my nipples are tight, pressing right through my sweater. He kisses me softly but with increasing intensity as he lets out a slight growl. "Delicious," he murmurs. "Opal, you're the sweetest little thing ever…"

He captures my lips again, and I gasp when I feel his hand lifting my sweater and his rough fingers wandering across my belly.

As his mouth skims down my throat to graze my collarbone, my body shivers as a flash of lust flickers through me. I want him. Want to know what he'll do to me if we end up in the bedroom.

No. Not if. When .

The decision has been made.

We're about to make a whole other kind of fire.