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  “Thanks, Ned. Appreciate that.”

  “Have a good day.”

  “You, too.”

  “Such a great guy,” Blaine said after Ned had moved on. “Best father-in-law a guy could ever hope to have.” Ned was married to Tiffany’s mother, Francine.

  “People like him make this job worth all the crap.”

  “For sure.”

  Their food arrived, and they dug in like they hadn’t eaten in weeks.

  Mason had something he wanted to ask Blaine, but it sounded so stupid in his own mind that he couldn’t imagine saying it out loud. Still, he had to know, and Blaine was the only person he’d dare to ask. He forced a bite past the tightness in his throat, which happened only when he was nervous. It was ridiculous, really. Blaine was one of his closest friends. He had nothing to be nervous about with him, and yet this was still embarrassing to admit, even to him. “Can I ask you something kind of weird?”

  Blaine ran a fry through ketchup and popped it into his mouth. “Yep.”

  Mason had no sooner posed the question than he regretted it. There was no way he could ask such a thing without sounding like a goddamned fool. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

  “Oh, come on! You’ve got me all curious.”

  “If I ask you this, you have to forget I asked ten seconds after, you got me?”

  “Ah yeah, I guess.”

  “It’s so ridiculous.”

  Blaine sat back in his chair and grinned at Mason. “This is gonna be good. Lay it on me.”

  Mason felt like he’d returned to middle school. “Have you ever, when doing mouth-to-mouth without a shield, has it ever been like, well…”

  “Like what?”

  “Kissing?”

  Blaine stared at him for a long moment before he blinked. “Uh, no. Usually, I’m grossed out by having to put my mouth on someone else’s when I don’t have a mouth shield handy. Why? Did that happen to you?”

  “Nah, it was just this weird thing. Forget it.”

  “No way. Who were you… Oh! Jordan Stokes?”

  “Shut up, will you?” Mason glanced around to see who might be hearing that he’d felt like he was kissing Jordan Stokes when he blew air into her lungs.

  “You felt like you were kissing her?”

  “Not exactly, it was just this strange thing. I don’t know. It’s stupid. I never should’ve said anything.”

  “You felt something when you…” Blaine rolled his hand to encourage Mason to continue.

  “I don’t know what it was exactly. But it was something.”

  “I’ve never had that happen. Usually, I try not to think about anything other than getting air to lungs that need it and then finding the Listerine.”

  “Same. Nothing like this has ever happened before. It was so bizarre, but her lips kinda moved, like she was trying to get more.”

  “Stop it. No way.”

  “Yes! I’m telling you. It was nuts.”

  “Wow.” Having apparently lost interest in his fries, Blaine appeared to give Mason’s revelation considerable thought.

  That was the last thing Mason wanted. “Forget it. It was nothing.”

  “What if it wasn’t nothing?”

  “I wish I’d never said anything. I already feel stupid enough even thinking it was something, so don’t make it worse.”

  “I’m not. I’m just saying that stranger things have happened than connecting to someone during an emergency.”

  “That’s not what this was. We didn’t ‘connect.’ I got her breathing normally again.”

  “And she tried to kiss you. But other than that, nothing happened.”

  Mason signaled for the check, eager to get out of there now that he’d made the huge mistake of mentioning it to Blaine.

  Blaine cracked up. “I’m not busting your balls. I swear I’m not. I just think maybe you shouldn’t discount it as nothing.”

  Mason tried to retrieve his wallet, but his arm protested the movement. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

  “Mr. Saunders picked up your check,” Carly told them. “He said to tell you thanks for your service.”

  “That’s so nice of him,” Mason said.

  “He’s the best.”

  “Don’t repeat what I said about Jordan. I can’t have something like that getting out.”

  “I won’t say a word.”

  “Even to Tiffany.”

  “Even to Tiffany. Let me know how it goes with Jordan.”

  Mason rolled his eyes and got up to leave. “Let it go, Blaine. Seriously.” He walked away as Blaine, that bastard, was still laughing. He hoped he hadn’t made a huge mistake by sharing such a thing with him. And why had he, exactly? Stupid fucking move that he’d regretted almost the second the words had been out of his mouth.

  He should’ve just chalked up the thing with Jordan to a weird second and forgotten about it.

  Except, he could still recall how her lips had moved under his and how she’d seemed to want more.

  As he returned to the barn, as they called fire side of the public safety building, he vowed to put the matter out of his mind so he could concentrate on work. And then he remembered he’d been invited to dinner with Jordan—and her enticing lips.

  “Fuck.”

  Chapter 7

  Mac left the Wayfarer with a short list of minor repairs that needed to be made. A leaking window, a strange hum in the exhaust vent in the kitchen, a rough spot on the bar that had caught a lady’s sweater. He’d send Riley and Finn over there tomorrow to deal with it. Nothing they couldn’t handle, he thought as he headed back toward the Curtis place, a Gothic-style house his team was renovating ahead of a family wedding in October.

  Which meant they were under the gun. Again. Always.

  These days, he felt like he lived his whole life under the gun, especially at this time of year. But he’d promised Maddie and his parents and the rest of his family that he’d take a gigantic chill pill after he’d collapsed and scared the hell out of them. He could still recall coming to and seeing Maddie’s sweet face, awash in tears and panic that he’d caused. He hated when she cried, especially over him.

  Thankfully, it had “only” been an anxiety attack, like the one he’d had several years ago when he’d still lived in Miami. Back then, his life had been nothing but stress. Now he had Maddie and their family and a million reasons to take care of himself.

  In keeping with the promises he’d made to her and his other loved ones, Mac pulled his truck off the road at the Southeast Light and parked in a spot with an awesome view of the lighthouse and the coast. He opened the window to let in the warm late-spring air and shut off the engine. His to-do list had a million things on it that needed his attention, but he took a few minutes to slow down, decompress and just breathe.

  Closing his eyes, he focused on breathing the way he’d learned from a meditation video he’d watched on YouTube at Maddie’s request. She’d read about how meditation could slow the mind and heal the body, so she’d encouraged him to give it a try. He hated that his stress was causing more for her as she carried their twins.

  They just had to get through the summer and the delivery of the twins in September, and then things would get somewhat back to “normal,” or whatever that would look like with five children, aged six and under.

  It was better for his anxiety if he didn’t think too much about what it would be like when they had five children. Three were killing them. What in the world would five be like? He and Maddie were due to meet later that afternoon with an au pair who’d come highly recommended by the agency they’d reached out to after Maddie had been put on bed rest. She was exhausted all the time, could never seem to get enough sleep, even now that she was on bed rest. Their mothers, fathers, sisters, sisters-in-law and friends had been pitching in to help with the kids now that Maddie had been ordered to stay off her feet, but that situation wasn’t sustainable long term.

  Mac had his hopes pinned on the au pair, a young woman nam
ed Kelsey, who’d be on the three thirty boat. She wasn’t sure how she felt about living on a remote island, especially in the winter. Mac hoped he and Maddie could convince her to take them on. He’d arranged for her to have the apartment that Kara Torrington had once occupied at a property near the marina and was prepared to meet her salary requirements plus a bonus after the first year if she agreed to come to work for them.

  Desperate times.

  Breathe, Mac. Just breathe. He could hear Maddie’s voice in his head, reminding him to stay calm, not to let the stress get the better of him the way it had before he collapsed and scared her—and himself—enough that he was heeding the warnings Dr. David had laid on him that day. This time, it’d been anxiety, David had said. The next time, it might be a heart attack. Mac had far too much to live for to allow himself to let stress get the better of him, so he was determined to combat it every way he possibly could. The idea of not being around to watch his kids grow up was unfathomable to him.

  His phone chimed with a text from Maddie. He’d set up a special chime and ring tone so he’d never miss a call or text from her.

  Blaine and Tiffany want to bring dinner over tonight and invite the family. Are you up for that?

  He wasn’t, really, but he knew how much she missed getting out and being with their wide circle of friends and family since her activity had been restricted. Sure, sounds good. I’ll be home with Kelsey after the 3:30 boat lands. Fingers crossed.

  Fingers and toes. Are you breathing?

  Funny enough, I just took a break to do some extra breathing.

  Good! Everything is fine and everything is going to be fine.

  Keep reminding me.

  Any time you need to hear it.

  Love you.

  Love you more.

  Not possible.

  For once, she let him have the last word and left him with a smile on his face as he contemplated the many ways his glass was more than half full. Yes, he had a lot on his shoulders, but he also had much to be thankful for, including his amazing, beautiful, courageous wife, three healthy children and two more on the way. His parents were healthy, his brothers and sisters were happy and so were his cousins. Everything was fine.

  Keep telling yourself that, Mac. Maybe one of these days, he’d actually believe it.

  * * *

  Jordan slept the day away and awoke late that afternoon feeling somewhat back to normal. Only a residual ache in her chest remained to remind her of yet another brush with death. Her grandmother used to tell her she was like a cat with nine lives. She’d used up most of them in the first twenty years of her life and had cashed in another chip last night. To hear that she’d been “barely breathing” when Mason arrived was terrifying.

  What if he hadn’t seen the flames? She’d probably be dead.

  Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks when it registered with her that she’d had a very close call, perhaps the closest yet in a life full of breathing and other emergencies. She wiped away tears that made her feel weak and stupid for being so emotional, but near-death experiences tended to have that effect on people.

  Jordan couldn’t remember much about the events of last night, but she distinctly remembered the feel of Mason’s lips on hers and how she’d tried to get closer to him. Totally mortifying! The man had been saving her life, and she reacted that way?

  It was all so confusing.

  And in the clinic, he’d been so nice as well as funny, helpful and generous about getting food for both of them, even though he’d been injured, too.

  She’d liked talking to him.

  There. She’d admitted it and was just as quickly back to confused. A few short months after a disastrous end to a disastrous marriage, the last thing she needed to be thinking about was the sexy fireman who’d rescued her. At least he was nothing like Brendan, who was half Mason’s size and pale as a ghost most of the time.

  Mason, by contrast, was one of the tallest guys she’d ever met and clearly took good care of himself, if his bulging biceps were any indication of what the rest of him looked like. Not to mention, he already had the equivalent of a late-summer tan and warm, kind eyes that had drawn her right in during their time together at the clinic.

  After being married to Brendan, the only man she’d ever even dated, she was so starved for kindness, she’d overreacted to a man who was just doing his job by hanging with her while the clinic staff was busy. It would be just like her to read more into it than it warranted.

  She’d had a health crisis.

  He’d done his job.

  End of story.

  Jordan sat up and took a minute to get her bearings before going into the bathroom that adjoined her room to shower. She stood under the hot water for a long time and washed her hair twice, hoping to rinse away the stink of smoke. After conditioning her hair and washing up, she got out of the shower and had to sit for a minute on the closed lid of the toilet. If her past track record was any indication, the attack would leave her feeling depleted for the next few days.

  Determined to soldier through, Jordan dried her hair and applied some mascara that made her feel human, even when she wasn’t going anywhere. It was a habit she’d fallen into as a teen. “Mascara before coffee” was her mantra. And yes, she knew it was a silly mantra, but a girl had her needs, and mascara was one of Jordan’s.

  It was on her to-do list to find real purpose in life, something that didn’t revolve around stupid things like mascara and social media and vanity and celebrity and all the things she’d once embraced before they turned to shit along with her marriage. She’d loved doing her show and connecting with fans. If only that was all there was to it, she would’ve done it forever. But the downside of celebrity was something no one could imagine until they’d experienced it for themselves. Now that she’d had firsthand experience with the downside thanks to her husband’s outraged and crazy fans, she wanted nothing more to do with any of it.

  Gigi, who had replaced Nikki as her manager—not that Nik could be replaced—had been badgering her to make some decisions about what was next. Ironically, the interest in her had gone way up after the hotel room incident, but that was just further proof of how depraved the celebrity lifestyle could be. They wanted her more because her celebrity husband had put her in the hospital?

  Disgusting.

  No, after five years of life in the fast lane, it was time to find some other more productive use of her time than chasing Twitter and Instagram followers and living her life “out loud” online. Since she’d gone “dark” after the incident in Charlotte, her fans had been hungry for updates. She planned to give them one once she figured out her life.

  At the moment, she was no closer to finding that life than she’d been the night things blew up with Brendan. The one thing she knew for certain was that she wanted to be on Gansett with Nikki for a while longer, even if she felt like a third wheel with her and Riley. They’d both said they wanted her to stay, so she would take them at their word and give it at least another month in her favorite place before she had to confront The Future.

  She felt like those words should be up in lights on a marquee somewhere since they hung over her like bright beacons, reminding her she was off course without a compass to guide her back to a path that made sense. Nothing made sense anymore, except her sister, who’d been by her side always—until she wasn’t and everything fell apart.

  Not that she blamed Nikki for that. She didn’t. Not at all. When Jordan had decided to give her marriage one more chance, Nikki had strongly objected. So much so that Nikki had quit as Jordan’s manager because she’d had enough of the toxic waste dump that Jordan’s marriage had been. If Jordan had one thing to do over, she would’ve let her sister talk her out of joining Brendan on his tour to try one more time to save something that hadn’t been worth saving.

  She knew that now. Hell, she’d known it then and had done it anyway. She had to own that, not that she blamed herself for how it had ended. However, she’d
put herself in that hotel room that night with a man she knew was unstable and addicted to Xanax and God only knew what else. It’d been a fool’s errand to try to bail the Titanic.

  The only reason she had for trying one last time was that after having grown up in the midst of a nasty divorce, the last thing she wanted was the same for herself. So she’d tried to save that which could not be saved. One thing she’d learned was that marriage took two people to make it work, and if one of those two people was unwilling to do the bare minimum, it was never going to last.

  That was what she’d said to Brendan that last night in Charlotte. That she couldn’t keep them going all on her own. He had to want it, too, and if he didn’t, that was fine. But she couldn’t go on anymore with the way it had been, competing with his fans, his groupies, his phone, his bros and his drugs for bits and pieces of his attention like a pathetic dog looking for a bone from someone who had no fucks to give.

  Apparently, that’d been the wrong thing to say, because the fight had turned physical after she’d said that, and the next thing she’d known, his manager, Davy, had been punching Brendan while someone else got Jordan out of there until EMS came.

  And thus her disaster of a marriage had come to a swift and dramatic end that the entire world had seen unfold on social media and the entertainment sites that had gone crazy over Zane’s arrest and subsequent trip to rehab. His rabid fans had blamed Jordan for all his troubles, claiming he’d never had drug issues until she came along, which was one hundred percent false. He’d had a reliance on Xanax for as long as she’d known him, which she’d naïvely believed was no big deal. It wasn’t heroin, right?

  Well, it might as well have been for the damage it’d done to his life and their marriage. What’d started out as an occasional use to combat anxiety and insomnia had spiraled into a thirty-pills-a-day habit that involved a lot of enabling by the people around him, who’d seen to it that he got his pills when he needed them—or else.

  Jordan had witnessed him fire a longtime employee who’d balked at getting him more pills after he’d filled a prescription the day before. She’d never seen that guy again, and the others around Brendan had learned to go along or suffer the same fate. So they’d done his bidding until it’d gotten so bad that he was slurring his words and staggering around when he wasn’t onstage. They timed his intake to keep him sober to perform. The rest of the time, he was out of it.