Crash and Burn

FROM THE AUTHOR

"Honestly, I’m not that into sneakers. They’re fun, for sure, and definitely look cool, but aside from a brief obsession with the Air Penny 2 when I was in high school (which my mom did not let me get) I never paid much attention to them. That all changed a few years ago when I came across an article that discussed the burgeoning resale sneaker market, and talked about a rare shoe that a collector had purchased for $40,000. Outside of game-worn apparel, I had never heard of shoes going for that much. I dug a little deeper, and became fascinated by how complex the market was for sneakers.

Meanwhile, Cate and Parker had been bouncing around in my head for a while, but I hadn’t figured out their story yet. Cate was already fully-formed–who could resist a tall, dedicated, grumpy first responder?—but Parker was more slippery. Once I read that article, though, the edges came into view. The entrepreneurial energy required to run a shoe store was a perfect fit for Parker’s exuberant, outgoing personality. And, if it so happened to be across the street from Cate’s firehouse…well. The possibilities were endless, and everything fell into place after that."

—KP Evans

Chapter One

“This is a terrible idea.” Parker Mandli kicked at the floor of the empty store, creating a plume of dust that hovered around her ankles. A distinct odor followed, a mix of must and pine shavings that made her nose wrinkle. She sighed and stared down at the dirt now settling on her shoes—a pair of Jordan Ones, the Retro Patent Leather in shiny red, black, and white Bulls colors that always brought her good luck. They didn’t seem to be working.

“This is all you can afford,” Josie said, looking up from her phone. She raised an immaculately groomed eyebrow and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “The lease terms are reasonable. You don’t want any more rentable square footage than this. Trust me.”

Parker bounced lightly on her toes for a few moments, ejecting more puffs of dust from under her heels, then took another lap around the store. She’d met Josephine Beaumont through her brother, Rob, right when she first moved to Mayville and was crashing on his basement couch. Josie had found Parker an outstanding deal on her downtown loft, even though she was only renting, and was attacking Parker’s newest project with equal gusto—though it was proving to be more challenging.

As a realtor and a self-proclaimed small-business expert, Josie was probably right about this place. With her tailored suit and tanned skin, Josie reminded Parker enough of her ex, Sophia, to be both unsettling and alluring at the same time. The look she was leveling at Parker was eerily similar as well. Thankfully, Josie turned out to be nothing like Sophia, which is probably why they quickly became friends.

“What the hell was in here?” Parker scrunched her nose up even more.

Josie returned to her phone. “A pet store.”

Well. That explained the smell.

Parker groaned and yanked open the front door, stepping out into the late-afternoon sun. It was mid-April and spring had taken hold, but the mild, pleasant weather did nothing to improve her opinion of the store’s location. She looked up and down the block lined with lush green trees and began to sulk. Josie followed her outside.

She had toyed with the notion of opening her own sneaker resale shop for years, but it never really coalesced in her mind until she moved. Here, the idea of a fresh start in a new town and building a business of her own had grabbed hold almost instantly, and having something to focus on lessened the sting of her unplanned relocation. The actual reality of such a venture soon hit home like a bucket of cold water dumped on her head.

Parker had convinced herself that a spot downtown, right on the square, would be the perfect combination of foot traffic and prestige for the higher-end sneakers she was planning to sell. Josie swiftly disabused her of the notion. The rents were astronomical, the lease terms onerous, the spaces too big. Although she’d pouted about it, Parker listened when Josie steered her toward Tomlinson Street, a quirky, artsy neighborhood on the east side of town. So now she found herself seriously considering renting a former pet shop that still smelled like ferrets, sandwiched between a run-down four-unit apartment building and a tattoo parlor.

What a strange neighborhood. What a strange town. None of this was what she had expected when she moved to Mayville. Then again, she had never expected to end up here in the first place.

“All right, look.” Josie appeared on the sidewalk next to her. Still gripping her phone in one hand, she grabbed Parker’s shoulders and spun her around so she stared down the street. “Just past that bar I know you were judging is a bakery, a pizzeria, and a bike shop. Up here”—Josie wrenched her around in the opposite direction—“are two coffee shops and an honest-to-God butcher. I also have it on very good authority that a bespoke furniture store is set to go in two doors down. This neighborhood is primed to explode.”

Parker shrugged her off. She looked up and down Tomlinson again, struggling to see the potential Josie described. Old, dilapidated houses extended down the block, mixed in with small storefronts. A marquee dangled precariously over the entrance to a bar, advertising weekly karaoke. The general appearance of both the bar and the hazardous marquee suggested it had been hosting karaoke since the early seventies, and no one had been brave enough to change out the lettering. “On my way over here, I saw a barefoot guy walking his dog,” Parker said.

“It’s a colorful area.”

Frustration mixed with a healthy dash of anxiety seeped into Parker’s chest. She raked a hand through her hair as she started bouncing on the balls of her feet again.

Josie gestured with her phone. “I know it doesn’t look like much right now, but when summer really hits, the foot traffic is incredible. There are street festivals, too. There’s opportunity here, I promise.”

The emphasis on the word opportunity made Parker’s heart unclench slightly. Still, she groped for more objections. None came to mind. Her eyes flicked across the street, and she changed the subject. “Is that a fire station?”

“Yep. That’s the oldest fire station in the city, actually, which is why it’s in the middle of the neighborhood like that. Everything sprung up around it. All the firefighters who work out of Station Two are really involved in the community. Usually a group of them sit outside after dinner and talk to whoever comes by, offer tours, stuff like that. It’s become kind of a tradition.”

Parker had gotten used to Josie’s brochure-ready speeches; she doubted there was a single neighborhood in town that Josie didn’t know top to bottom, as per her reputation as Mayville’s preeminent real estate agent. As if on cue, the fire station’s garage door opened, and two white firefighters ambled out, carrying lawn chairs.

Josie tapped her phone against her chin, brow furrowed. “You know, you might be able to make it part of your marketing. ‘Come to Remix Footwear, where the shoes are fire’ or something like that. Maybe even a collaboration? The MFD does a charity calendar every year, I wonder if…”

Parker stopped listening.

The first firefighter was a trim man with wavy blond hair and an obviously affable manner, wearing a broad smile as he moved. Parker’s eyes swept over him and instead locked on his companion.

The woman was tall and broad-shouldered, her athletic build emphasized by a tight T-shirt. She moved with a strong grace, opening her chair with a practiced, one-handed snap. Leaning back, she crossed her legs and clasped her hands on the back of her head, ruffling her short pixie cut. Intense eyes stared across the street. The power in that gaze seemed to part the traffic on Tomlinson by sheer will alone, gluing Parker to the sidewalk. All she could do was stand there and dumbly stare back.

A buzz from Parker’s back pocket broke the spell. She fumbled for her phone. It was a text from her brother reminding her about dinner that night for what had to have been the tenth time—like they hadn’t been having dinner every Sunday since she moved to town. Two missed call notifications also glared up at her. Parker grumbled to herself and dashed off a curt reply. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Josie wave across the street. The firefighters each raised a hand in acknowledgment. She kept her face buried in her phone, scrolling through her favorite auction sites to check on several sneaker pairs she had outstanding bids on. Jesus, even from a distance the woman was stunning. There was also something familiar about her that Parker couldn’t place. “You know them?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

“Sure I do. I’ve been friends with Alex and Cate for years. I know most of the firefighters at Station Two. They’re all super fun. They take over Crystal’s on Thursday nights and absolutely kill at karaoke—well, most of them. Cate just kind of drinks whiskey and scowls.”

Parker stopped herself before suggesting that she wouldn’t mind seeing that scowl up close. Another notification came through, distracting her from the thought. Apparently, Rob hadn’t appreciated the tone of her last text. Parker skimmed the response and tapped out a snarky rejoinder about his receding hairline.

“Holy hell, is she the one that rescued those kids from that house fire?” Although Parker didn’t usually pay attention to local news, the story had been inescapable last week. She’d seen the newspaper’s breathless front-page layout at Rob’s house. The main picture showed a duplex engulfed in flames and a firefighter running from the blaze carrying a hysterical child in each arm. A file photo was included in the article, a headshot of the heroic firefighter in her formal uniform. Those dark eyes had nearly stopped her dead in Rob’s living room.

So not only was she a hero, she was a devastatingly beautiful one at that. Seemed unfair. Josie let out an aggrieved sigh. “Don’t ask her about it, okay? She hates the attention.”

“Who said I wanted to ask her about anything?” Parker replied a little too quickly.

Josie arched her brow again and cocked her head like she was conducting an examination. Parker squirmed and returned to her phone. Rob had sent a paragraph-long retort about her chicken legs, complete with citations. That’s what she got for picking a fight with an attorney.

“So? What do you think?” Josie nudged her and gestured at the store, still wearing a curious look.

Parker abandoned any attempts at eloquence and decided to tell Rob to go choke on a Lego. The hair rose on the back of her neck, and she knew instinctively that the firefighter—Cate—was looking her way again. Parker tucked her phone away and turned to face the store, putting her back to the fire station. She started another round of pacing as she focused on the decision before her. The biggest decision she’d ever make, really.

Fear trickled in, seeping through the cracks of the external confidence she worked hard to maintain. She tried to ignore it.

This was going to be different. She wasn’t going to run or give up at the first hint of difficulty. She would see this through to the end. After all, she’d been buying and selling sneakers for years. She knew the brands, the pricing, the margins. Even Rob had to admit her business plan was solid, and through his help, she was able to obtain a small loan with a minimal amount of fuss. A brick-and-mortar store was a natural next step.

Parker took a breath. “Send me all the paperwork, and I’ll have Rob look it over tonight.”

Josie clapped her hands together and gave a little jump despite the dangerous height of her heels. “I’m so excited for you!” She reached over and hugged Parker’s shoulders. “This is going to be amazing, I promise. And don’t even worry about the smell.”

Parker couldn’t help but smile at Josie’s enthusiasm. “Thanks a lot for all your help, Josie. I appreciate it.”

“Absolutely. We’ll be in touch.”

They parted after another hug, and Parker walked over to her Harley Sportster Iron 1200 parked in front of the store. Her eyes flicked over to the fire station. Cate had looked away. Her phone vibrated in her back pocket, but she ignored it. Probably Rob again. Parker snapped her black-and-white Supreme varsity jacket up to her neck and straddled her bike. She gave it a kick start and slipped on her full-face helmet, black with bright-red racing stripes down the middle in the same shade as the color of the bike. Fire-engine red, her dad had called it when he presented it to her as a college graduation present. Of course, Parker would have preferred it if he’d actually shown up to the ceremony in person, but she’d known better than to expect that.

She couldn’t help glancing across the street. That powerful gaze caught her again, and her cheeks burned under the helmet.

Parker gunned the accelerator and roared off down the street.

* * *

Cate Wildman cocked her head, more curious about what was going on across the street than she really ought to be.

The woman Josie was trying to corral appeared incapable of standing still. Or paying attention. Alternating between pacing in front of the store and bouncing on her toes, she played on her phone while Josie spoke. Thick brown hair, cropped short on the sides but longer on top, fell onto her forehead with each raking pass of her fingers. Despite the fidgeting, she exuded an easy, boyish energy that was palpable from yards away. In spite of herself, Cate found it compelling.

The woman looked up suddenly, catching Cate staring, and froze like a deer in headlights. Cate shook her head and looked away.

“Huh.” Next to her, Alex Rutherford shifted in his seat. “Looks like Josie’s finally getting someone in that old pet store.”

The store had sat vacant for the better part of a year. While that wasn’t necessarily unusual for the Tomlinson neighborhood, there was a fair amount of curiosity about who the new tenant would be.

“Guess so,” Cate said. The woman had jammed her hands into the pockets of her ripped jeans and was frowning. Cate wondered what magic Josie was trying to work. A pang of sympathy struck her. Cate had also found herself at the receiving end of Josie’s formidable talents, and the last time that happened she’d almost put a down payment on a lakefront condo on the north side she absolutely could not afford. The woman kept bouncing on the balls of her feet as Josie spoke. Nervous habit, most likely.

“I heard the guy who ran that shop wasn’t evicted. He skipped town,” Alex said.

Cate frowned. “Really.”

“Yeah.” Alex grinned and gestured with his hands. “Illegal imports. Like, poisonous snakes and shit.”

“I think you mean venomous.”

“What?”

“Snakes are venomous, not poisonous. Good Lord, man, you’re a paramedic.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed. “Sorry, I must’ve missed zoology day during training. Anyway, the point is, I pity the person who has to clean up whatever mess that guy left.”

Cate’s gaze drifted across the street again. The woman stopped pacing and made a gesture that suggested surrender. Josie wrapped her up in a big hug, the rumble of a passing 4x4 truck unable to drown out the excited squeal that followed. When Josie finally released her, the woman dipped her chin shyly and waved before hopping on the motorcycle parked in front of the store. Cate’s chest clenched involuntarily at the sight. The woman revved the engine and peeled away, shiny helmet gleaming in the late-afternoon sun.

“Hey, Wilds?”

Cate turned, almost annoyed by the intrusion. Morgan hovered outside the open bay door. She hitched a thumb over her shoulder. “Captain wants to see you.”

Cate stood and walked back into the firehouse, giving the younger woman a once-over as they fell into step beside each other. Morgan Cook was a probie—a probationary firefighter fresh out of the academy, assigned to Station Two a few months ago. She was like most other probies Cate had worked with: strong, bristling with potential, eager to the point of resembling an overgrown Labrador. Except that now Morgan’s shoulders were slumped forward, her face pale. Cate was certain she knew the reason for the shell-shocked look.

The job earlier that morning was the most difficult Morgan had faced yet. Due to its central location, the crew at Station Two were often dispatched to two of the most precarious areas of Mayville: dark, winding McChesney Road, and the four-lane county highway outside of town. Out on the highway, a semi driver had clipped a motorcycle while changing lanes to make the offramp. The rider had gone under the trailer’s back wheels. Medic Two and Ladder Two were the first on the scene, but when they arrived there was nothing to be done. Even Syed Kirmani, the senior paramedic on Medic Two and a twenty-five-year veteran, had been unnerved at the sight.

Wordlessly, Cate pulled Morgan aside, ducking around the back end of Ladder Two. Freddie, one of the two other firefighters on duty, glanced up from near the ladder truck’s front wheel, then continued checking the emergency medical equipment stowed in the side compartment. He offered Morgan a kind smile.

“Munoz! Get your dirty mitts off my rig!” Alex yelled from the sidewalk. Freddie answered with both middle fingers.

Ignoring the exchange, Cate crossed her arms and waited. Morgan let out a long breath. Her stocky frame trembled. “That was a rough one earlier.”

“They won’t all be like that. You find ways to manage the worst of it.”

“I thought I had an idea of what to expect coming out of training, but…” Morgan looked up at her, bright-blue eyes imploring. “How do you do it, Wilds?”

“What do you mean?”

Morgan’s eyes widened, almost in disbelief. “Are you serious? It’s like nothing fazes you. There was that school bus accident last winter, and that apartment complex fire, and hell even last week—” Morgan shut her mouth and glanced away.

Cate patted her shoulder. The gesture felt awkward. She was terrible at conversations like this, but it seemed to offer Morgan some comfort. “You did a good job today. And you can talk to any of the guys about this stuff. They’re all here for you.”

Morgan nodded and stepped back as if she had sensed she crossed an invisible boundary. Freddie’s head poked out from around the engine, and he gestured for Morgan to join him, going over yet again how to properly store the equipment after a call. He nodded at Cate, a look of understanding passing between them. When it came to technical and procedural training, she was second to none, but anything deeper than instruction on proper forcible entry techniques or maintenance on their breathing apparatus was strictly off-limits. It had to be. Focusing on everything but her emotions was the only way she got her job done. And the job was paramount.

Captain Jamie Cordell’s office was located near the back of the firehouse, in a side alcove right before the kitchen. Out of habit, Cate checked the whiteboard in the common area outlining A Shift’s duty assignments. Syed and the other paramedic on duty, Omar, were starting on dinner—stuffed peppers, according to the elaborate sketch taped to the board. Salt, another firefighter, had flopped into one of the brown recliners set up in front of the TV and was flipping through a training manual. He gave Cate a mock salute as she passed. Her eyes narrowed. It was supposed to be his night to clean the bathrooms, and Cate suspected he was putting off the chore yet again, hoping for another job to get him out of it. She also suspected he dodged it to annoy her.

Cordell wore her usual frown when Cate knocked, waving impatiently at the seat across from her desk. She flipped through a stack of papers, pausing occasionally to scribble a hasty signature on the bottom of the pages. Cordell’s office wasn’t much more than a glorified closet, and Cate always felt claustrophobic whenever she was called in to speak to her superior. She glanced around as she waited for Cordell to finish, eyes trailing over the bland white walls decorated with various memorabilia commemorating the history of Station Two.

A pennant emblazoned with the station’s logo hung above the captain’s left shoulder, celebrating the oldest working firehouse in the city. To the right was a framed picture of the first crew assigned to the house. Awards and ribbons and newspaper clippings told the history of the Mayville Fire Department and the heroes who served the community, including those who had died in the line of duty. Cate could recite the tales from memory. The only personal touch was the Gold Glove necklaces dangling from the corner of Cordell’s monitor, trophies from her time as a back-to-back state champion boxer.

Cate looked to her right. The annual charity calendar hung directly at eye level, prominently displaying Sam from Station One. And his abs. Cate bit back a groan.

Applying for that damn thing had not been her idea, and she regretted the decision more and more with each inexorable turn of the month. She’d only done it after the organizers put out a sincere plea for more diversity, and Alex spent an entire night at Crystal’s eventually whittling down her objections with shots of Jameson and an unyielding belief she had been called upon to “give the gays what they want.” Cate knew everyone was counting down the months until her appearance. She shuddered to think what she would encounter walking into the firehouse on the first day of November. It was not the kind of legacy she had hoped for.

“How’s the probie?” Cordell didn’t look up.

“She’ll be fine. Just shaken up.”

“Understandable. Brutal one today.” Cordell gestured with her pen. “Make sure she has the info for the department therapist.”

“Absolutely.”

For some reason, Cate’s thoughts went back to the woman Josie was talking to outside the vacant store. She hoped that, wherever she had taken off to, she was riding carefully. The idea of her hurt sent Cate’s stomach twisting into knots, even though she had no damn idea why. Before she could interrogate her reaction further, Cordell completed her paperwork and looked up, hitting Cate with a steely gaze. After a beat, her lips curled into a crooked smile.

“So, any update on the case of your missing coffee creamer?”

Cate huffed. Station Two’s coffee came from an ancient, belching machine as old as the firehouse itself, and the only way to make that sludge palatable was decent creamer. Everyone else swore the coffee was fine, and the fact that the machine probably had never been cleaned added to its character. Cate had stopped arguing with them. If they all wanted to drink motor oil, that was their business, but the least they could do was leave her creamer alone. She’d even labeled it this time.

“No. Probably someone from B Shift. You know they never pay attention.”

Cordell nodded. “Indeed. A full investigation is obviously warranted.”

“Well, if my request for a new coffee machine had been included in the budget this past fiscal year, then we wouldn’t have to monopolize resources on such an investigation.” Cate straightened in her seat. “Ma’am.”

Cordell snorted. “We don’t have the money to buy a fresh pack of pencils, let alone a coffee machine.” She rummaged through another huge stack on her desk, eventually coming up with a folded newspaper. She tossed it over to Cate and leaned back in her chair, putting her boots up on the desk with a loud thump. It was the latest edition of the Mayville Reader, the city’s premier independent newspaper.

“What’s this?”

“Marching orders from above. Apparently, you’re good PR.” Cordell clasped her hands behind her head. The crooked smile grew even more cockeyed, and Cate realized that she was in trouble.

“No.”

“Yes.”

Cate sighed. “Jamie, I—”

Cordell held up a hand. “With this latest round of budget talks, the department needs all the good press it can get. You know how this game is played. Enough people see the good work we do, the more public outrage at the lack of funding, the less likely the Common Council is going to vote for more cuts. It’s the circle of life.”

Cordell was right, as usual, but it didn’t stop Cate’s shoulders from slumping forward or a dull ache from building behind her eyes. “What do you need me to do?”

“This reporter is supposed to reach out to you to set up an interview.” Cordell leaned forward and tapped the byline with her finger. “Nothing too intrusive. Just talk about life as a firefighter, what it’s like working for the department, stuff like that. With your naturally sunny disposition, you should be fine.”

Cate grumbled under her breath.

“It’s a great opportunity to put in a plug for next month’s benefit and the Butler Center.” Cordell gave her a knowing look.

Cate cocked her head, her building irritation abruptly halted. She hadn’t considered that. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Good.” Cordell sat forward and slammed both boots to the ground, the long-suffering desk chair creaking in protest. “That’s all I had. Make sure Salt does the bathrooms today.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Cate stood, but just before she turned, Cordell spoke one more time.

“Hey, did I see Josie working her magic across the street? Someone finally going to rent that store?”

Cate shrugged, trying to remain casual. It was harder than she realized. “Maybe.”

TheLesbianReview.com
Well rounded doses of humor, emotional trauma, danger and sexiness kept me wanting more with every page, even as I was on the edge of my seat waiting for the inevitable crash and burn of a wonderful romance between two characters I loved right from the jump.

goodreads
Henriette’s Reviews - This is an excellent debut by KP Evans: it’s a slow burn, there are character driven main characters and a bunch of great secondary characters. KP Evans meticulously and unhurriedly develops the romance. Her writing is impeccable and something to be savoured.

Sue P.
Have just finished this book and I want to read it again... it’s that good.

Fiona S.
Crash and Burn is a fantastic (and steamy) debut novel from KP Evans that had me hooked very early in the story.