On A Night Like This (Callaways #1)

his statement, one of the other firefighters intervened, grabbing his pal's arm. "That's enough, Hawkins. Get in the truck."
    Hawkins looked like he wanted to argue, but after giving Aiden another scathing look, he reluctantly followed orders.
    "What just happened?" Sara asked.
    Neither man seemed inclined to answer her. After exchanging a long look with Aiden, the firefighter gave her his attention. "The inspector just arrived. He'll let you know the damage and when you can go inside."
    "Thanks," she said.
    The firefighter gave Aiden a hard look and then headed to the truck.
    "Okay, what was that all about?" she asked Aiden.
    He rubbed his rapidly swelling cheekbone. "Nothing."
    "That man didn't hit you for nothing, Aiden. He said it was for Kyle. Was he talking about Kyle Dunne?"
    "Leave it alone, Sara."
    "What happened to Kyle?"
    Aiden's jaw tightened. "He died, and it's my fault."
    His blunt words shook her to the core. Kyle Dunne was the same age as Aiden. They'd been friends since kindergarten. Now he was dead? Why? How?
    It was clear Aiden had no interest in giving her more details; he was already moving down the sidewalk.
    "Aiden, wait," she called, but he didn't turn his head.
    As he walked toward his truck, she noticed a limp in his stride. He'd suffered an injury of some sort. At the same time that Kyle had died?
    Why would anyone blame Aiden for his best friend's death? There was no way Aiden would have let Kyle die without trying to save him. Aiden was a born protector. She'd just witnessed him in action when he'd rescued her father, a man he didn't even like. Aiden would have put his own life on the line for Kyle.
    Memories of Aiden and Kyle together flashed through her mind. She could see them playing catch in the street until well after dark, hosting poker games in the room over the garage for all their high school friends, getting dressed up in suits for their senior prom. Kyle was dead? He'd always been so much fun, a joker and a prankster. Kyle and Aiden had caused a lot of trouble together, and they'd been closer than brothers. Aiden had to be reeling. No wonder there had been so much worry in Lynda's eyes when she'd mentioned Aiden.
    As Aiden pulled his bags out of his truck, she was torn between wanting to ask him more questions and wanting to put some distance between them.
    He was the one guy she'd never been able to forget, the one guy who still haunted her dreams. The last thing she needed to do was talk to him. She had enough problems to deal with. She turned her back on Aiden and headed across the lawn to talk to the fire inspector.

Chapter Three

    Aiden was relieved to get to his truck, to get away from Sara's compelling gaze. When he'd decided to return to San Francisco, he hadn't counted on seeing her again. She was a complication he didn't need.
    But damn, she was pretty. His gut tightened as he sneaked another look at her, watching her move across the lawn. She'd always been cute in a girl-next-door kind of way, but she'd grown up to be a beautiful woman. He liked the way her sun-streaked light brown hair sparked with gold, the curve of her hips in her form fitting slacks, and the soft swells of her breasts that had filled out in the decade since he'd last seen her.
    She still dressed like a librarian, but he knew there was passion inside of her. He'd seen it first-hand. He just hadn't handled it very well back then. In those days, he hadn't handled a lot of things well in his life. Hell, not in these days either, he thought with a frown.
    Forcing himself to look away from Sara, he headed up the driveway. He'd debated coming home for three long weeks. It could be either a great or a terrible decision. So far, it wasn't looking good.
    The last thing he'd expected to run into was a fire. For a split second, he'd hesitated, the events of three weeks ago still fresh in his mind, but instinct had driven him forward. And this time no one had died.
    Thinking about Kyle, he put a hand to his aching cheekbone. He should have seen that punch coming. It wasn't the first fist to the face he'd taken since Kyle had died, and he doubted it would be the last. But the physical pain he could handle. It was the one deep inside that seemed overwhelming and relentless. He'd tried to outrun it, to drown it in booze, but it was still with him, and he wondered if it would ever leave.
    Opening the side door, he stepped into the house and set his bag down inside the door. He grabbed a kitchen towel, swiped