Free Scorcher by Celia Kyle Page B

from the Sears in town. Unless she ordered it online. But having a
UPS
truck out to the ranch would cause just as much talk as the hot Sears man. Yeah, better to have people thinking she’s lusting after the Sears guy than having them figure out the truth.
    Phoebe was a lousy excuse for a Salamander.
    Only, no one but she and the family knew about her inability to do even the simplest fire maneuvers. Their nature was a secret to all but those that were firekin , and since no one in
Winthrop
or the nearby cities qualified, that meant that she lived a more solitary life than most of her family. Then again, for all she knew, a firekin could be under her nose and she’d never know. She had the worst ability to scent another firekin , and most of the kin could mask what they were. Phoebe’s sense seemed to be permanently in the “off” position, and her own abilities were so whacked out that even her parents couldn’t scent her as kin. And they did the whole “birthing” thing to have her! At least they had each other and she had…a broken oven. She also had a fuck buddy that had turned into more of a boyfriend and less of a plain buddy.
    Maybe it was time to put him out to the trash along with the stove. She couldn’t afford attachments to a human. Not when she lived forever.
    Phoebe glanced out the kitchen window that faced the road and noticed a high dust trail coming toward her. Great. Think of the devil with the biggest cock west of the
Mississippi
and he shall appear.
    Brant had an uncanny ability to show up whenever she blew something up. Damn it.
    She really needed to get a handle on the whole “fire” and “temper” thing. Cause she could not afford to continue replacing appliances every time she had a temper tantrum. It was getting expensive.
    She watched Brant’s (that’s the fuck buddy turned guy she loved) truck meander down the road and finally come to a stop in her driveway, the tall man unfolding himself from the county issued Fire Investigator’s truck with ease. She often chuckled to herself about his profession considering her propensity to light shit on fire at every turn. He was responsible for figuring out why and how a fire started. If only he spent some time with her when she was cranky…
    Brant was easily six feet tall with dark black hair and a pair of bright blue eyes that rivaled the color of the ocean on a clear day. He was well built, his shoulders wide, muscles well defined, and she loved tracing each and every one with her tongue whenever possible. Which was pretty damned often considering that Brant came over whenever she managed to blow something up. It made her wonder which of her neighbors kept watch on her so closely that they called him whenever she had a mishap.
    Damned nosy
Arizona
folks.
    And damn Brant for being so sexy that she couldn’t stand not touching him when he was around.
    Phoebe raced to the front door, smoking oven and destroyed metal forgotten. A man that rugged, walking away from his truck, torn jeans and tight t-shirt on…he was just begging for a woman to come dashing out the door and launch herself at him with all her might, getting caught in his muscular arms.
    She was applying for the job. Nah, forget applying, she was outright taking the job, fire mate and firekin law be damned. This guy… he could be worth going mortal over.
    She picked up speed with every step, smile plastered across her face as she approached her man. Her. Man. He slammed the truck door and spread his legs, bracing himself for her and she increased her speed yet again. Feet from him, she leapt into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist, ankles locking at his lower back and mouth going straight for his lips.
    Brant opened to her immediately and she licked the inside of his mouth, absorbing his very taste, the essence of his being. She loved their kisses, slow and sweet or fast and hard and everything in between. Their tongues dueled and stroked, playing and then getting