Fire with Fire (Crash and Burn, Book 3) (A Military Romance) Read Online Free

“My name is Eleanor. I know, it’s super old-fashioned.” She pulls a face and laughs. “I got called ‘Roosevelt’ so much as a kid.”
    “I think it’s a nice name,” I tell her. “Nothing wrong with old-fashioned. They’re classics.”
    “You’re sweet.” Her face flushes and she swallows, bites her lips.
    Eleanor is throwing all the signs my way to show she’s interested in me. While I’m flattered, and talking to her is nice, it isn’t stirring anything in me. Which actually makes me feel a little frustrated. I don’t want Lauren to have this stranglehold over my heart. I don’t want her to, but she does. Even now I’m comparing this woman’s hair to Lauren’s red locks, remembering how good her hair smells.
    Fuck.
    Eleanor digs into her purse and pulls out a pen. She grabs a bar napkin, scrawls across it, pushes it my way. “So…here’s my number. If you ever want to go out, give me a call.” She smiles again then steps away from the bar, her eyes warm and locked on mine. “Bye, Cole.”
    I nod as she departs, then pocket the number. It burns a hole in my pocket. I should throw it away. I feel like I’m cheating on Lauren by even holding it. But Lauren doesn’t view me as more than a friendly fuck. She was too ashamed or embarrassed or whatever to even tell anyone we became more than friends. Because I know this much for sure—if she didn’t tell her sister about me, she likely didn’t tell anyone else either.
    And I haven’t heard one fucking word from her since I left her place yesterday morning. Not an “I’m sorry I made you feel like my dirty secret” or “I don’t know what to do, but we should talk about this.” Nothing.
    I have to try to move forward, and dating is the best way to do it. Eleanor is nice, sweet, not too shy. The way I normally like my women. I should call her this weekend, ask her out to dinner. There’s a weight in my chest as I think that, and I ignore, ignore, ignore.
    One date at a time. That’s how I’ll move past my feelings for Lauren. Chipping away at them little by little until this love I feel becomes less painful and more manageable. And eventually, this raw ache in my chest will heal.
    Time heals everything. Clichéd but true. But I can spur it forward by taking actions, not just sitting back on my heels waiting to feel better.
    The rest of the evening, I serve customers. Smile and laugh. And I try to stop looking at the door every five minutes hoping Lauren will come walking in.

3
    Lauren
    M y office phone rings , but I ignore it and let it go to voicemail. I’m trying to decide which contractor we want to go with for the Mickey’s Pub remodel. I started the bidding process at the end of last week, and we had several contractor firms reply that they’re interested and offer their project rates.
    I should be happy, because the remodel’s moving forward, on time.
    I should be happy, but I’m not.
    Last week was just plain terrible. After Cole left my house that awful Sunday morning, I puttered around and cleaned everything from top to bottom to distract myself—scrubbed, mopped, swept, dusted, the whole nine yards. Went on a long walk. Called my sister a hundred times and left a hundred voice mails.
    During the first couple of days of last week, I continued to call Christina, asking her to please talk to me. Nothing.
    And on top of it all, Cole’s been pretty much MIA. I texted him Tuesday to check on him, and his reply was a curt I’m fine, busy with work. I even called him a couple of times but he didn’t return my call. He hasn’t dropped by once to say hi. It’s been over a week since I’ve heard his warm voice. I’ve scrolled through my phone’s pictures of him more times in the evenings than I want to admit.
    I hurt Cole; I see that now. Clearly the stuff he overheard during the fight has caused a big problem between us, because this is totally not normal. So I’ve backed off him and Christina to give them space to think,