Her Sexy Challenge (Firefighters of Station 1)

by Ballance, Sarah

  “That’s comforting,” she grumbled. Sarcasm touched her thoughts, but she couldn’t deny the truth of the words. If landing ankle deep in a creek meant he’d put his arms around her, she’d probably be willing to risk it.

  “The rails are solid,” he said in that same even, steady tone. “So is the bridge. The whole thing was just replaced two years ago. If you want to look, the wood is still bright, not weathered gray.”

  Some kid jumped on the edge of the bridge behind Shane, and the whole thing shook. “Lovely. I’ll leave a glowing review for park maintenance.”

  “I’m sure they’ll appreciate that. Now walk.”

  “Toward you?” It should have been an easy task, but the visceral reaction she’d had to the cross-town bridge lingered, and her chest grew tighter by the second. Sputtering through a tight breath, she said, “I’m pretty sure that’s the opposite of what worked last time.”

  “Want me to squeeze behind you?”

  Um, no, no she did not. “There will be no squeezing on this bridge.” As she spoke, another kid ran past them, jostling her toward the edge. It wasn’t much of a risk on paper, the railings being what they were, but taking that side step terrified her. And for some reason, she looked down. “Oh God.”

  “Hey.” Shane touched her palm. Not exactly holding her hand, but definitely grabbing her attention, where it lingered, as did he. Instinctively, she curled her fingertips around his. She’d have to live that down later. Right now, she really didn’t want to die on that stupid footbridge. She fought panic, praying for breath to touch her lungs. She hated how childish she felt, but even without the whole story, he of all people should understand. In some capacity, it was his job to understand.

  “Look at me,” he said, “then put one foot in front of the other.”

  “If I don’t look down, am I really facing my fears?” A weak joke. Any chance to argue and not acknowledge all the tingly feelings that spread warmth from her fingertips to her belly. Her head buzzed, and at this point she didn’t know whether to blame her fear or the man intent on stoking it.

  “Just walk,” he told her, a smile playing at his lips. He tugged at her hand, walking backward, holding her hostage with those alluring brown eyes that had morphed in low light from warm chocolate to rich espresso. Was there such a thing as chocolate espresso? If not, someone really needed to get right on that.

  She winced as her foot bobbled on a fallen stick. Eyes pegged on his chest, which was the safest possible direction, she muttered, “If I survive this, I will find you.”

  “Sweetheart, I’m counting on it.”

  She gave him a sharp look, only to find him grinning. Some rebellious inner part of her turned to mush. He really was handsome. As much as she hated the whole player stereotype and the implication that she somehow wasn’t worthy, she had to admit to herself that having his attention on her was flattering. Her, with her glasses sliding down her nose and her thighs quaking over a stupid bridge…yeah, that was exactly why her thighs quaked.

  He tugged her, gently enough, but still pulling her off-balance. She thumped against his chest, panic welling in the split second it took her to imagine they’d hit the rail together and go sprawling to their deaths, but he didn’t budge. Instead of flailing, she took a deep breath of something woodsy and soapy. God, he smelled good.

  And this was so, so bad.

  Anyone passing by might have thought they were having a moment, her head against his chest, their fingers wound tight. She kneed him in the thigh.

  “Hey!” He jerked back, like he thought he was protecting himself, when the truth was she was too short to easily hit the bullseye and too nice to make hard contact. But let him think what he wanted. He’d put her on this stupid bridge.

  She poked him in the chest, any relief at not feeling alone spewing forth as defense. “What makes you think I need rescuing?”

  He blinked. “I’m guessing it’s the actual fact that you needed rescuing twice this week already.”

  “And this?” She gestured underfoot, before she could dwell on what had been an excellent point. “This is supposed to help me get across five lanes of vibrating concrete?”

  Okay, so she was irrationally annoyed, but that beat the hell out of breaking down and crying. She’d never felt so stupid in her life.

  It was just a bridge.

  She swallowed a hiccup-sob before it escaped, almost choking on it. Not even a deep breath of evergreen-scented air was enough to calm the panic welling in her chest.

  “Would you rather I show up every morning and walk you across?” His tone had lost some of the tease, and for a moment she wondered if he might be serious. Like being reminded of her failings every single day would be a good thing.

  “Why would you offer to walk me across?” she asked. “Wouldn’t driving someone who’s terrified make more sense?”

  He tilted his head. “Are you asking me for a ride?”

  “No.”

  “Because I give great rides.”

  The heat of a thousand suns touched her face. Her mind dove straight into the gutter, conjuring up an image that probably wasn’t the kind of ride he had in mind. Or maybe it was exactly what he had in mind. She wasn’t sure which was worse. Either way, not happening. She had to live in Dry Rock. Getting her heart broken by a man who had already told her he wasn’t interested, yet still managed to spend every waking moment in her face, wasn’t going to make for a pleasant fresh start.

  She swallowed, audibly and awkwardly. “Is that what this city asks of its public servants? Training exercises with its most pathetic citizens?”

  A breeze touched her skin, lifting a lock of hair that had escaped from its knot. He pushed it back with his free hand, letting his fingertips linger.

  She was standing on a bridge, water rushing underfoot, and the only thing she felt were butterflies.

  Score one for the Lieutenant.

  “Just so we’re clear,” he said gently, “I’m off the clock. You’re not a work project.”

  Totally benign words, but spoken low they made her heart race. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t denied the rest of what she’d said. He’d told her he was there of his own accord, and that made those butterflies wiggle like crazy in her chest. She suspected he could whisper the ingredients off a box of macaroni and cheese and make her want to drag him into bed.

  “And now I’m on the bridge,” she managed to say, but damn every shaky word. If she’d been on solid ground with a reasonable expectation of staying there, she would have loved how green the space was. Her world in Wyoming had been an endless sea of drab prairie grasses. This was nothing short of lush by comparison, and the flowers that seemed to burst from every available sunlit groove only cemented that point.

  He touched her hip, at which point she realized he still held her now sweaty hand. “Good.”

  She needed a moment to remember what she’d said. Bragging about standing on the same bridge two kids had no problem racing across. Show-offs. “Um, I’d like to not be on the bridge any longer.”

  “Do I need to rescue you?” Humor danced in his words, but there was a solidarity there. Maybe it was her lust-driven ovaries doing the talking, but she kind of believed he was on her side.

  Which was, in all likelihood, a huge mistake. “Or,” she said, “move out of my way. Because, as I recall, you are off the clock.”

  He obliged, but by stepping to the side, forcing her to step close to the side to get around him. Which she did, not because she wasn’t afraid, but because she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of her refusal.

  So what if she saw stars and heard a dull roar from the universe? She made it. She could just hyperventilate quietly, maybe keep the paramedics uninvolved, maybe never look at another bridge again.

  He gave her a moment, which she sort of appreciated and otherwise wished he’d do something to tick her off so she could focus on that instead. Annoying as he was, he wasn’t bad to look at. Letting him distract her had to be b
etter than being consumed by the threat of plunging to her death.

  “Look up,” he said, right behind her when he spoke.

  She hadn’t heard him approach over the sounds of fear and agony running laps inside her head. She turned to see him, but he wasn’t looking at her, so she followed his gaze up. Through a break in the trees, the sky had deepened to a brilliant red that made the snow-topped mountains glow like lit matches. “Wow.”

  “Yeah.”

  She glanced his way to agree, but he was looking at her now. And there went the butterflies all over again. God, if ever there was a moment to be kissed, it was now, in the soft, muted world brought on by evening and sunset. Score one for the clichés. Not that she wanted him to kiss her. Kissing him would be a disaster. She’d think about it forever.

  That didn’t stop her from swaying toward him.

  “Caitlin Tyler,” he said in that low voice that made every word a seduction.

  “Mmm— Yes?” Her voice bobbled. Oh God. This was it. He was going to kiss her. And she was so going there, because if there was ever a good time for a bad idea, it was now, with a guy like him.

  “You are the most frustrating woman I’ve ever met.”

  His words jerked her out of her daze. Maybe she’d gotten carried away, but for him to tell her she annoyed him? Under that sunset?

  There was only one thing she could say to that.

  “Good.”

  Chapter Six

  If Shane wanted to introduce Caitlin to the heartbeat of Dry Rock, there was no better place than his favorite diner. But now he second-guessed that decision. The number of patrons crammed in the joint pointed to the fact it was everyone’s favorite. Hell, they were probably over capacity. He could just imagine the scene when the chief showed up and threw them all out for breaking the fire code. Caitlin would love that.

  “Maybe we should have headed somewhere a bit less crowded,” he said, after the tenth meet-and-greet in as many steps. “I didn’t realize how often I stopped to talk to people until now. Everyone knows everyone around here.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing. I worried about moving to a big city,” she said wistfully. “I thought I’d miss knowing all of my neighbors, but you’ve given me hope for that feeling of community.”

  “You’re slipping,” he told her. “That almost sounded sincere.” He couldn’t imagine anyone considering this a big city, but he hadn’t ridden in from the plains of Wyoming.

  She smiled, and the warmth of the simple gesture made him want to be somewhere else, all right. Somewhere private. But he’d fumbled that already back in the woods. He’d wanted to kiss her, thought he was going to do it—then he’d thought better of it and spit out the dumbest possible thing he could have said.

  It had worked, at least. The appreciation on her face as the sun disappeared behind the jagged horizon had put a knot in his chest. A knot he couldn’t afford. The schmuckiness had lingered after he’d shut things down, but fortunately so had the awkwardness of what he’d blurted out. At least he didn’t have to worry about kissing her at the diner, not with half the town casting curious glances their way.

  She shifted closer to avoid upending a tray of drinks, and his synapses misfired. If she turned to face him, she’d be indecently close. The thought made him want to spin her around. Embrace indecent. Instead, he diverted his attention to the back of the room, where his friends occupied their usual table. Somewhat relieved, he steered her in that direction. It was their only hope of being able to sit, but also finding it a great time to introduce her to a few people who, unlike him, planned on sticking around.

  “I am sincere,” she said, dragging his thoughts out of dangerous territory. “But that still doesn’t mean I’m going to worship you.”

  The tail end of her proclamation hit the air just as they walked up on the table, leaving all four of its occupants staring at them in varying amounts of interest and amusement. “Guys,” Shane said, his words rumbling his chest against her back. “You remember Ms. Tyler.”

  Caitlin not-so-subtly elbowed him in the stomach. “Caitlin,” she said.

  Shane slid into the three-quarter circle booth and gestured for Caitlin to follow. The group bunched to make room while he doled out introductions. “Matt, Diego, Jack, Lexi. Everyone but Lex is on shift with me.”

  Matt’s grin suggested Shane was going to have to punch him later. “So, in other words,” Matt said to Caitlin, “we’ve met. Nice to see you without the sirens.”

  Lexi shot Matt a sideways look, but he didn’t immediately elaborate, and Caitlin had already turned a solid shade of pink. Either Lexi noticed or defaulted to her habit of ignoring Matt, because she turned her attention to Caitlin, offering her a sympathetic smile. “It’s great to meet you, Caitlin. And you have no idea how much I mean that, because being the only woman in this group of guys is only good when I set the kitchen on fire, trying to fix dinner, and only then because they put it out. Being reminded of it for months after the fact pretty much negates the benefits.”

  Caitlin’s eyes widened. “You set fire to your kitchen?”

  Shane hoped he kept his amusement from showing. Lexi had probably just found a friend for life with that confession. Though he wasn’t sure the two of them belonged in a room together. Maybe they’d survive it if Caitlin manned the fire extinguisher when Lexi gave in to the inclination to cook.

  Before Lexi could respond, Matt gave her a sidelong look. “How do you negate the benefits of not having your house burn down?”

  Lexi rolled her eyes. “Hey, I didn’t see you there throwing buckets of water.”

  Matt smirked. “That’s because we have hoses for that kind of work.”

  Diego leaned back against the bright-red vinyl booth cushion, steepling his fingers across his abdomen. “Yeah, we’re all packing enormous hoses.”

  Jack gave Caitlin a crooked smile and tipped his head toward Matt. “Well, when the fire happened, Matt here was at home in bed with his hose.”

  Shane would have given anything for a picture of Caitlin’s expression in that moment. It teetered between amusement and alarm, though there was no mistaking the way she’d relaxed next to him, her body softening rather than stiffening when his arm brushed hers. He could see her there with them, long-term. Without him. Which had been precisely his hope when he’d brought her over, but he hadn’t expected the stab of emptiness that accompanied it.

  Matt had turned his own shade of red, as he did every time Lexi’s house fire was brought up. Shane figured it killed Matt not to have been among the Calvary swooping in to save Lex, but his friend had never come close to admitting that. “I was at home with the flu,” he said. “And unlike yours,” he added, giving Lexi a pointed look, “my hose doesn’t detach. Where else would it be?”

  Shane blinked. This was a new accusation. “You have a detachable hose?” he asked Lexi.

  She blushed, diverting her attention to the chrome-edged table top, which was scattered with four nearly empty baskets of food and a matching number of cups. In the background, decades-old music played from what looked like a working jukebox. “It was a gag gift.”

  Across the table, Diego lost the battle to choke back laughter. “Gag gift.”

  “I still don’t think Matt had the flu,” Jack said. “He’d probably eaten her cooking.”

  “I can cook,” Lexi said, a stubborn set to her jaw.

  “The dog won’t even eat your cooking,” Matt said.

  Despite the limited span of Shane’s interactions with Caitlin, he had growing sympathy for Matt. Lexi was giving him the same look Caitlin had worn in almost all of their previous conversations, though Shane understood that her time thus far in Dry Rock had been…stressful. But tonight…tonight, something had begun to change between him and Caitlin.

  Just not the fact that he was leaving, which meant nothing should change at all. At least not beyond her getting past a couple of her fears, because the thought of Jack or Diego swaggering in to save her made
Shane want to preemptively put both men on the ground.

  Caitlin, who had been watching Matt and Lexi go back and forth like they were on the courts of Wimbledon, asked, “Are you guys…dating?”

  Shane understood her confusion. They acted more like an old married couple than anyone he knew, including old married couples.

  “No,” they responded in unison. “Neighbors,” Lexi added.

  “They share a dog,” Shane said. The so-called explanation had persisted for years, and no one bought it. He wasn’t even sure Matt or Lexi did, but they sure loved to repeat the excuse.

  Matt sighed heavily. “We have to or it would starve.”

  “You could just open a bag of dog food sometime,” Diego suggested.

  “You would think, wouldn’t you?” Matt said, giving Lexi a pointed look.

  The table erupted into laughter, drawing attention from other patrons and finally, the waitress, who gave a look of surprise and hurried over. “You slipped in here when I wasn’t looking.”

  Shane smiled. “I knew you’d find us when you had time.” She had to be seventy if she was a day, and she was as much a fixture of the place as the chrome, red vinyl, and checkerboard floor.

  “You, I found. Time, I’m still looking for,” she said, giving him the same look his grandma had laid on him years ago when he’d eaten an entire apple pie she’d left out to cool. “What can I get you?”

  He glanced at Caitlin. “Burger and a shake? You’ll never have one better.”

  “Sounds great,” she said.

  “My usual times two,” he said, a little too pleased that they liked the same food, because it didn’t matter. At least, it shouldn’t. And it wouldn’t in a few days, because he’d be gone.

  “I can open dog food,” he heard Lexi say. Were they still on that?

  “He just won’t eat it,” Matt said. “He doesn’t trust anything she puts out for him.”

  Despite the jab, Lexi laughed, and Shane wondered why those two couldn’t see what was right in front of them.