Faking It with the Cowboy Fireman Bonus Scene

December. I can finally keep my cowboy boots on without disapproving looks, though it’s unseasonably warm enough that most of the fam still goes barefoot. Like Mr. High School Shorts. It’s grounding. It’s character building.

That’s this whole damn family.

Nova tilts his head toward Dream. She giggles something in his ear. His face goes stiff. Not much makes him think twice, which has me even more worried.

So does the look he shoots me.

The look of a man abandoned by God.

“Been trying to get out of this for the past forty-five minutes,” Cypress grunts next to me. Patchouli and panic.

I rub a hand over my face, side-eyeing him. “Do I even want to know?”

He sizes me up wordlessly then shakes his head. “Nope.”

Layla heads my way now, all black curls and sinful curves. And that look on her face… that dangerous look that tells me I’m going to regret it.

“How’s my sexy cowboy?” she asks, slinking into me, then lifting up on her toes to kiss me.

I don’t even wait for the question. “Nuh huh. Whatever it is, I’m out.”

Her thick bottom lip curls into a pout, and my chest does this thing. Like somehow those two things are connected. Then, I sigh long and low… early signs of defeat with her.

Her dark eyes twinkle. She knows me so well.

I tip my head, take her mouth as chastely as I can in full company. Really I just want to get her alone and let my hands do the talking.

“So, tonight’s class is couples only.”

“Yeah?” I ask, frowning. “More break-my-legs yoga?”

“For once, no,” she says, biting her bottom lip. “Because it’s Christmas, so this is special. And you can’t say no.”

“Great,” I grumble already feeling out of my depth.

“Couples belly dancing—”

“God no,” I say before she even finishes.

Her eyebrow arches. “No?”

Sage comes over now, ready to pressure me into it. A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead. She hands me a tambourine with eye contact.

“It’ll be fun,” my mother-in-law says… like I’m falling for that. “I suggest the men remove their shirts.”

“Like me,” Cypress grumbles, standing next to me.

“Belly what?” I’ve finally reached the end of my rope. “I’m just watching.” I fold my arms over my chest.

Cypress eyes me like he’s impressed. Then, he mirrors my posture, saying, “What he said.”

Sage shakes her head, but Layla winks at me. Seductive-like. I’m ready for the show, though I wish it was happening some place a little more private.

The music starts. Foreign strains that don’t sound nearly as strange these days.

Nova watches Cypress and I tentatively, like he’s about to cross over to our side. But Dream catches his arm first. She’s wearing Sparrow over her chest, and her smile is radiant. “Don’t even think about it.”

He smiles guiltily like he’s been caught, and I can’t help but laugh as he removes his shirt.

“That’s more like it,” Sage says, shooting me an eyeball guilt trip. But I’ve been through enough—bachelor auction, fake dating, goose attacks (yes, there’s been more), unexpected childbirth, turmeric smoothies—to know where my limits lie.

Onyx, Layla’s older brother, and his girl Stella come over, all smiles. “Glad you’re here,” he says, stepping forward. “We’re in need of your professional services.”

That makes my spine straighten. “Yeah?” I grimace.

“After the belly dancing, we’re going to do a silks and fire breathing demonstration. Thought it’d be good to have a real firefighter on hand, just in case.”

“You know what? Belly dancing, fine. Weirdly empowering. Whatever. But I draw the line at FIRE.”

“But you’re the reason we’re doing it,” Stella says with that mercurial grin of hers. “The kids will love it, and what better way to celebrate the holidays?”

“Hmm,” I say dead pan. “How about egg nog, a Christmas tree, singing, or gifts?”

No one seems to appreciate the sarcasm.

“Brownie?” Cypress asks.

“Carob.”

He returns with two, and we stand there eating and watching the girls look graceful, and the guys… Well, I try not to watch them at all.

“We should do this more often,” Cypress says, like he’s secretly always wanted to say no.

When the pyrotechnics start, and boy, do they, I maintain an invisible line the kids can’t cross and a fire extinguisher handy.

“Next community class,” I say to my father-in-law, “is fire safety.”

His eyes are glassy, filled with the kind of wonder carob alone could never give. “Groovy,” he says.

That’s one way to put it.

At one point, the old man gets a little too close the action and singes his shorts. It’s a miracle he doesn’t get burnt.

“I fought a structure fire in thirty-mile winds last month,” I mutter. “And somehow this feels more dangerous.”

Cypress nods his consent.

There are no regulations here. None.

That’s gonna change.

After all, I’ve grown fond of the farm. And even Gertrude doesn’t deserve to burn.

Though she’s my best chance at having a Christmas goose.

Afterward, Layla pulls me into the cottage, locking the door behind us. Her face says it. That the next fire is one I can get behind.

“You survived,” she says breathlessly.

“Just barely,” I say, capturing her in my arms.

She gives me a look like she’s not sympathizing. “You didn’t even dance.”

“Nope, but I sure as hell enjoyed watching.” I bring a hand up to her cheek palming it, then tugging her bottom lip open for a wild kiss. A kiss that’s been building all night.

“Mmm,” she says after, cheeks glowing. “What else do you have in mind?”

“Something with me on my knees,” I say, darkly pulling her with me toward the bed. “Worshiping the hell out of you.”

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