Breaking Protocol (Firehouse Fourteen Book 3) by Lisa B. Kamps

Author:Lisa B. Kamps [Kamps, Lisa B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BimHaven Press
Published: 2016-06-12T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Dinner had been a relaxing, informal affair on the screened porch room. Grilled steak, crisp salad, roasted vegetables, fresh rolls. Almost too much food. But Dave had eaten all of it, earning him an approving smile from CC's mother.

The remnants had been cleaned up, the few remaining leftovers put away. Now they were sitting on the lower deck as the night closed over them, taking some of the edge off the heat and humidity. They sat around the low table, watching the water just beyond as citronella-filled tiki torches worked to keep the few bugs away.

Dave leaned back in the comfortable lounge chair, drawing on the cigar CC's father had insisted he have. He had tried to decline, never having really gotten into the cigar fad, but Ed had insisted.

And Dave figured why not. It wasn't like he'd have to worry about CC thinking he tasted like an ashtray later. And the cigar was surprisingly smooth, with just a hint of some mellow spice.

It was a nice complement to the smooth bourbon he was drinking.

A click broke the comfortable silence and Dave turned his head, surprised at the grin on CC's face as she snapped his picture with her phone. He raised a brow in her direction but didn't say anything.

"It's not exactly a smile, but I couldn't resist. You look so relaxed, puffing on that cigar, with the drink in your hand."

Dave chuckled and took another puff on the cigar. "Actually, I think I could get used to this."

Ed laughed then raised his own glass in a mock salute before taking a sip. "Nothing wrong with that, son."

Dave raised his own glass in answer, his eyes nonchalantly studying the man seated to his left. He was taller than he had expected, close to six feet, with close cropped dark hair liberally salted with gray. He had the rugged, weathered features of someone who spent a great amount of time outside, and lines on his handsome face that spoke of easy laughter, easy smiles.

CC looked nothing like him.

No, CC was the spitting image of her mother. And if her mother's natural beauty was any indication, CC wouldn't have to worry about aging.

The woman sat next to her husband, a small well-manicured hand resting lightly on his leg. Her light blonde hair was cut into a loose bob that brushed her shoulders, framing an oval face that was just barely showing any signs of age. A few laugh lines around hazel eyes, just the faintest lines near her mouth. Like CC, she was on the shorter side, not as curvy as her daughter. Yes, the mother was attractive.

But the daughter was so much more, with the looks and personality to make his blood turn hot, to make his senses sing. And thinking like that wasn't going to do him a damn bit of good, not while they were under her parents' roof.

Joyce sipped her wine and turned to face him, her clear look speculative, the hint of a smile on her mouth.

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