Putting Out Old Flames Read Online Free Page A

hold.
    Shoving his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, he shifted. Jane was no longer his to think about that way. In fact, Jane was downright pissed off at him. Not that he could blame her. When he’d left that card on her front porch years ago and taken off without her, it had been a dick move. But they’d both been stupid kids. She couldn’t hold that against him forever. Could she?
    In three long strides he was behind her.
    The chief smiled at him over Jane’s head. “McGovern. Glad you could make it.” He extended a hand as Jane whipped around, her eyes flaring.
    Chance gripped Finnegan’s palm. “Glad to be here.” He leaned a little closer to Jane, enjoying the heat from her body. She smelled earthy, different. Was that . . . eucalyptus? Weird. But somehow it worked on her. Anything would.
    She took a quick step back, putting space between the two of them. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
    â€œOh, that’s right,” Finnegan said. “You two have met for the fundraiser.”
    Chance must be a sadistic bastard. Why else would he enjoy the flush that crept up Jane’s neck and the tense set to her shoulders? “We met a long time before that. Jane and I are old buddies from high school.”
    â€œYeah, buddies.” Jane spit the words out like they were bullets from a gun.
    Chance smiled. He’d forgotten how much fun he used to have riling her up. She’d always been too serious. He’d needle her until she’d finally shake her head in exasperation, unable to stop the smile from spreading across her face.
    It would take a lot longer to wheedle a smile from her now.
    Finnegan raised his eyebrows. “Where’d you go to high school?”
    â€œLansing.”
    â€œSo you’re a local boy, or near enough. I thought you were an import to Michigan, like me. Though not from so far away.” If Chance listened hard enough, he could just hear the trace of the man’s Irish accent that attested to just how far away he’d come from. The chief clapped his hand on Chance’s shoulder. “Still, I knew I liked you too much for you to be from California.”
    â€œThe West Coast isn’t full of crazies like you’ve heard. And the guys on Cal Fire are some of the best.” Turning to Jane, he said, “I just moved here from Northern California. I was a firefighter there for five years.”
    â€œAnd one of the best, from what your old chief told me. You moved up the ranks quickly. He was sorry to lose you.” Finnegan took a sip from the beer in his hand. “But his loss was our gain. We’re lucky to have you.”
    A furrow appeared between Jane’s eyebrows. “You became a firefighter after college? That wasn’t part of your plan.”
    His plan. His set-in-stone life plan that he’d spent hours talking to Jane about in the backseat of his father’s Jeep. College, med school, then becoming the youngest neurosurgeon in US history. The plan he’d outlined in obnoxious detail, trying to impress the sweet girl in his arms, but always knowing he was keeping a couple parts of it from her.
    Like where he intended to go to college. And that he didn’t plan on having her by his side for his meteoric rise. His teenage heart had loved Jane, but even then he’d known that at eighteen he was too young to plan a life with someone.
    â€œPlans change,” he said. Did they ever. After getting his college girlfriend pregnant junior year, he’d done the right thing. A small wedding. A new plan. No more dreams of medical school, with crushing debt. He’d had a family to take care of. And once he’d held his squirming, blotchy baby boy in his hands for the first time, he hadn’t regretted the changes for a second.
    A man sidled up next to Jane. His short hair was pale blond and thin enough to reveal glimpses of his pink scalp. He slung an arm around