He pulled into the parking lot of the burned-out Creative Interiors II and showed his badge to the officer who’d been there all night guarding the scene. Kenny pulled up right after him. All around were a crew of firefighters, checking for hot spots. The chief was there, too, looking tired and haggard.

It’d been a bad season so far, the lot of them were overworked, and the hot weather hadn’t helped. They had more fires than they could investigate, and as always when that happened, things slipped through the cracks. In their county alone they were working on two major arson cases, at least one of which was the work of a serial arsonist. Everyone was itchy because they’d had a dry spring, too dry, and the fears about the wildfires getting out of control again were running rampant.

The chief came over as he and Kenny were pulling out their gear. “Wrap this one up fast as you can,” he said quietly, and when he walked away, Kenny looked at Joe with an arched brow.

“This is Creative Interiors’s second fire in a month,” Joe said. “Big coincidence to ‘wrap up quickly.’”

They were sitting on the bumper of his truck getting their gear organized, which was easier for Kenny since he’d actually had his stuff organized in the first place.

“Yeah, but the warehouse appears to be accidental,” Kenny said, pulling out his clean boots.

“We both know ‘appears’ means nothing.”

“True.” Kenny watched as Joe pulled out his own boots, not clean. “Is it possible you’re too close to the case?”

“I’m not too close to the case.” Joe stared at his dirty boots. “How the hell do you stay clean?”

“It’s not that difficult. Look, just admit it. You’re in love with Camille’s daughter.”

Joe’s heart skipped a beat. “You’ve been watching soap operas again.”

“I notice you’re not denying anything here.”

Was it love? Joe hadn’t put a name to the bone-melting, heart-stretching emotion he’d experienced last night, he hadn’t been able to.

But whatever it was that he felt for Summer, it was a whole lot more complicated than he’d ever felt for Cindy, or any woman for that matter, and he had to look away from Kenny’s knowing expression.

“So it’s serious,” Kenny said.

A serious case of stupidity, maybe. “She’s leaving. Hell, she might already be gone.”

“That should suit you, the master of screwing up long-term relationships.”

“Maybe Summer isn’t my type.”

“Since when is smart, sexy, and funny not your type?” Kenny pulled on gloves, also clean. “Face it, man, she’s been your walking wet dream your entire life.”

“No she’s not.” Joe didn’t have any clean gloves either, damn it. “She’s…flighty. Unstable. She’s…” Warm, compassionate, beautiful. Sexy as hell. “Christ.”