“True. I remember Dad was that way too, years ago when I still lived at home.” I pat her on the shoulder as she goes back to the sink with the used rag. “Hey. It’ll be fine. Whenever they stop talking about work, it’s because they don’t want to worry us. It’s not just a firefighter thing. It’s a guy thing.”
“But that’s exactly what irks me. If something bad is going on, I’d want to know. And that’s when they shut us out. I don’t want Jeff to suck it up and be the hero all the time. You know what I mean?”
I turn and grab a fresh sleeve of small to-go cups from the shelf along the wall. “That’s who they are. Honorable and brave, and ready to carry the world’s burdens on their backs without complaining or whining about it. We can’t expect them to come with an off switch.”
One of the customers in the lounge section approaches us and asks for a drip refill. With my back to Vicky, I’m thankful for this break in our conversation while I serve the patron. Smiling at my own words, I remember having the same fears and thoughts back before I became a teenager. All I wanted was to see Dad, to know he was okay. After losing my mother at such a young age, Dad was all I had. I’d worry all the time. Right up until I hit my teens. I’d still worry about how he was, and if he was safe, but I realized the upside of the long crazy hours he put in—more freedom for me while he was gone. And boy, did I ever maximize it.
After refilling the customer’s mug, I glance up at the TV just as the news anchor turns it over to the weatherman.
“It’s odd,” I say, half to myself. “This news station seems to enjoy reporting on fires lately.”
Silence meets my statement. I slide my gaze from the TV to Vicky. She’s staring back at me, her face flooded with worry. I instantly regret mentioning anything. I prefer to be calming her down, not getting her all worked up again. Her expression reminds me of the look in my dad’s eyes the last time a firefighter on his team died on the job. It was years ago, in a chemical fire at a warehouse off the I-80. Dad walked around like a shell of himself for months.
It’s not that I’m not concerned about him on a daily basis. I am. He’s my father, and a decent man overall, so I care. But I’ve just learned how to live with the anxiety over the years. Once I accepted that having a fire chief as a dad came with certain risks, I made peace with the fears and tension. Vicky hasn’t done that yet, but then again, I’ve had my entire life to cope. And Dad’s not on the front lines as much as his men are.
“I’m not trying to say there are more fire-related emergencies or anything,” I quickly add. “Just that this particular channel covers them more than the others. It could be for any reason.”
“Maybe because it’s been such a dry, mild winter?” she asks with added concern in her voice.
“Could be.”
I tear open the sleeve of paper cups and pass her a handful. I need to be more careful about what I say. Vicky’s been working here for a while, and I’ve never seen her this upset about anything. She takes whatever comes her way in stride. Like an irate customer. A broken coffee grinder during our busiest hours on the weekends. Realizing we’re short on a customer favorite thirty minutes before we’re set to open up. Flooding in the bathroom. That sort of stuff.
I’m used to seeing her roll up her sleeves and do what needs to be done. This level of anxiety that she has today must be the hormones. And I hope she gets past it soon, because all this fixation on firefighters is starting to rub off on me. Since Hammer and Deuce moved into town, working here on the weekends was my one escape from thoughts of them. I can’t escape them with the TV on full blast about firefighters, and with Vicky in my ear.
I pass her a few stacks of plastic cups, and she stocks them on the holders under the cash register. Every minute or so, she frowns at the TV as her hands work. Then the customer who asked us to turn up the volume finally gathers up his things and leaves. Great. Quickly grabbing the remote, I mute the sound. No one notices, so I turn off the TV entirely.
“Wait!” Vicky shrieks, pointing at the now black screen. “Wasn’t that Jeff walking in the background?”
“They all look the same with their gear and masks on, but sure…if it’s him, now you know he’s fine. All the more reason to stop obsessing.”
“You’re probably right.”
“Trust me. I’m sure it’s the right thing to do.”
“Maybe you’re as sure about that as I am about you and… either Deuce or Hammer.” She squints as she studies me with her head tilted to one side again. “I still can’t quite figure out which of them you’re into.”
Ignoring the comment, I pass her the last of the cups. “I’m going to start prepping the lunch paninis.”
“Maybe the five of us could go out for drinks this weekend,” she continues. “No. Six, with Rosa-Lee. I won’t be drinking, of course. Well, there’s those virgin coladas that I like. Are you game?”
I lift one eyebrow. “Wait, you said yes to Rosa-Lee’s invite? I thought for sure you might’ve talked her out of it.”
“You’re not up for going out?”
I wait for her to tell me she’s kidding.
She doesn’t.
The woman’s serious?
“Come on now, Vicky. You know the Chief frowns on romantic relationships between staff at his station. He’d freak if I of all people broke that rule… especially with the two new guys. Either of them.”
“I never said a thing about inviting your dad out for drinks.”
“You’re not actually suggesting I sneak around…by going out this weekend? In this small town? He’ll probably find out about it before we get through our first round of drinks.”
“He can’t expect you to write off all firefighters.”
“He probably does. Especially the ones who work for him.”
“But aren’t you waiting for a transfer to another station?”
“I am, but who knows when it’ll come through. Look, he’s just trying to protect his men and me,” I say frankly.
She nods thoughtfully. “I get it, but if you’re leaving soon…”
“None of that matters. The Chief’s a stickler for workplace professionalism.” I lift two fingers on each hand and put air quotes around the term. “Even if he owned this coffee shop, he wouldn’t like me dating one of his employees.”
Vicky chokes down laughter, scooping up some dark roast beans and pouring it into the grinder. “I can’t even picture him buying a coffee, let alone baking and serving customers.”
“You’re missing the point,” I remind her.
“Maybe, but I’m not taking no for an answer about drinks with the guys.” She hits the grinder button and pulls out her smartphone. “I’m texting Jeff right now.”
I shake my head as she types away on her phone. “Between you and Rosa-Lee, I’ll end up out of a job before I hit my twenty-sixth birthday. At least try to keep my name out of your plans, okay?”
“Too late.”
“Whatever,” I tell her, and hurry to the back to start on lunch.
But the damage is already done.
In all likelihood, I’ll end up saying yes.
What can I say? I’m craving Hammer and Deuce like nothing else. One taste isn’t enough, and I’m tired of starving myself for the sake of appearances.
Maybe I like living on the edge too.
11
Ember
The Saddle Up Saloon is packed to the rafters when we arrive for drinks. What started off as dinner out for six of us turns into drinks for the entire firefighting team. Whenever that happens, half of the single ladies in town converge on the place to make goo-goo eyes with the guys. This is why going out with these guys is a bad idea to begin with. Complete strangers get to flirt with them and touch them, and I can’t even look without drawing attention to myself. It’s almost standing room only, but Rosa-Lee, Vicky and I find an empty table after an older couple finishes their meal and leave.
Our spot is far enough away from the guys for us to talk without being heard over the cou
ntry western music blaring through the sound system.
Vicky and Rosa-Lee do the talking.
Rosa-Lee and I do the drinking.
And I more or less do all the blushing and averting my eyes.
Heat has permanently risen to my cheeks for one reason. Whenever Rosa-Lee and Vicky get together, trouble follows. At the moment, they’re going back and forth with the firefighter innuendo while smiling innocently at the very same firefighters they’re making fun of.
“Hose before bros,” Vicky chortles.
“Come slide down my pole,” Rosa-Lee retorts.
Vicky comes back with, “I’d prefer to climb down your ladder, babe.”
“He found me hot and he left me wet.”
“For his full-frontal assault!” Vicky giggles. “Cuz pappy can’t control the hose on his own!”
“That’s one hell of a pumper.”
“Scream for me, baby. Just like the siren.”
“Oh girl, you’re hotter than a five-alarm fire. I’ve got just the thing to hose you down.”
I’m all but ready to lift my hands to my ears to block them out when they start to sing the firefighter version of ‘Do your ears hang low’, which goes like:
Does your hose hang low?
Do you swing it to and fro?
Can you twist it in a knot?
Can you wrap it like a bow?
Do you hang it over your shoulder?
Can it wrap around a boulder?
Does your hose hang low?
Does your hose rise high?
Can it raise up to the sky?
Does it shrivel when it's wet?
Does it harden when it's dry?
Can you wave it at your neighbor?
Do you use it as a saber?
Does your hose rise high?
By the third verse, they hit bottom and replace the word ‘hose’ with ‘junk’. I decide it’s time to extricate myself from our table. Thank God my bladder has a limit on how much beer it can hold.
“Health break! Be back in a minute,” I announce and slide out of my chair to go to the restroom.
“I’ll come with you,” Vicky says, bringing their merriment to an abrupt end.
“You’re both brave, leaving me with all these men,” Rosa-Lee replies. It sounds a hundred miles away, though. In just a few seconds I make it all the way to the back hallway. I push the bathroom’s swinging door open and drop my purse on the counter. Vicky bursts in behind me, her eyes wide.
“Come on. It’s confession time.”
I look at her in the mirror. “Sorry, what?”
Her eyes narrow and she takes a step toward me. “Something’s going on with you and Hammer…or you and Deuce. I want details.”
I turn from the mirror to look straight at her. “There’s nothing to tell.”
Her lips twist up into a cunning smile. “Are two of you a thing? You can tell me if you’re seeing one of them.”
“I’m not, Vicky. Honestly.”
I haven’t lied so far. Not really. All my answers are accurate, more or less. I’m not seeing either of them. We’re not a thing. She doesn’t have to know that I’ve been with both of them. At the same time.
But if I stick around long enough, either she’ll figure it out by herself, or Rosa-Lee will have too much alcohol in her to deny what she knows. Either way, it’s time for me to leave.
She rests a hand on her hip. “Okay. I don’t believe you, but okay.”
“Why would you think I’d sneak around with either of them?”
She lifts a shoulder. “It’s the way you get whenever either of them looks over at our table.” She grins. “Like you can’t wait to get out of here and rip each other’s clothes off.”
I turn back towards the mirror and dig my lip gloss out of my purse. It’s a good excuse for avoiding Vicky’s gaze. She’s dead right, and if I give her any more time to read my body language, she’ll probably hit a second bullseye without meaning to.
She turns and leans against the sink next to me. “Give it time. My money’s on the two of them duking it out over you.”
I can’t stop my eyes from whipping up to meet hers, but I keep my mouth shut and focus on my reflection again as I apply my pink gloss.
“You’re such a good girl,” she sighs, deflated that I won’t encourage her.
I nod. “Yeah.” Dropping the lip gloss back in my purse, I zip it shut with more force than necessary. “I can’t be any other way with my dad’s men.”
“Which one would you try out if you had the chance?”
Answering that question would be walking into a trap. Since I have no future with either one of these guys, I’m not going to bother. I’ve already done too much damage tonight. I’ve worn my heart on my sleeve without knowing it. I’m not going to sabotage myself and admit anything.
I shrug, and she pushes herself off the sink. “I’m going back out there. You coming?”
“In a second. I want to touch up my mascara.”
“Okay, doll.” She glides through the door and out into the hallway. I’m left staring at the mirror, wondering why I bothered coming out.
“God,” I hiss.
I clutch the edges of the sink and chew on my lip. The situation is painfully ironic. There are thousands of people in this city, and yet the two hottest men are living and working close enough to touch every goddamned day—and they’re completely off-limits.
Snatching up my purse, I push the bathroom door open and head straight for the exit. Once I’m in my car, I start to write a text to Rosa-Lee, letting her know it’s time to go. She knocks on the passenger window before I can hit send, and jumps inside.
“Let’s get the hell out of here before the three of you start dry-humping each other.”
“Was I that obvious?”
“God, yes.”
I smile and start the car. That’s what besties are for.
12
Hammer
Deuce and I have been working in our Reno firefighter jobs for over a month.
Resisting Ember isn’t getting any easier.
I turn a bend on my way to the bunk room and almost bump into her. Hell, I didn’t come down this hallway looking for Ember, but here she is, looking irresistible without even trying.
“Hi.”
“Ember.” I close the gap between the two of us with a small step. Her breathing hitches and her lashes flutter. Her eyes are half-closed, her lips part in anticipation. I can almost smell the need coming off of her. We’re less than a foot away from each other. I can count the lashes casting a shadow over her eyes, and can almost see my reflection in her wide, gray irises. I need this woman naked and on her knees before I go insane.
She takes a step backward. “How’s the job going?” she asks, smiling nervously.
“Good.” The tension between us is strong. It’s been hard keeping myself in check around here, knowing she’s less than a hundred feet from me for up to eight hours a day while we’re at work, and less than a mile away when Deuce and I have our days off.
Ever since I got back in the game about a year after my wife passed, I haven’t had much practice in watching my behavior with women. If Deuce and I want a girl, we go for it.
Ember folds her hands under her perky breasts. My fingertips burn with the urge to reach out and pick up where we left off in the back of the SUV. Then my dick twitches.
“Davis isn’t too hard on you, is he?” she asks.
“Nah, he’s all right.”
“And…the Chief?”
The mention of the one person keeping us from doing whatever the fuck we want behind closed doors causes me to groan. “I think I’m his favorite,” I say jokingly.
Ember beams as her smile forms and widens. “Good luck with that.”
“Your father runs a tight ship.”
“It’s nothing like how he was with me, growing up.”
“Parenting ain’t easy.”
“True…Oh right, I remember that you and Deuce have k
ids. How are they adjusting to the move?”
“Fine. They’re young…making new friends is easy at that age. And they have my younger sister to dote on them when they’re not in preschool.”
“It’s good that you’ve got such a close family.”
“Yup.”
She looks past my shoulder. Well, I’m just about to grab a coffee in the kitchen.”
“Good. Hey, that reminds me. Deuce mentioned that you work at a little coffee place.”
“Yes. Baker’s Buns. What about it?”
“Can you pull some strings and get someone to start buying decent coffee beans here at the firehouse?” I ask, mostly to make conversation.
“God, I wish.”
“Bribe them with muffins or something… or better yet, you and Carter should whip up some pastries. Whatever it takes to replace the sludge that’s on tap.”
She relaxes through her smile. “Cakes are more my thing.”
“Yeah?”
“Wedding and birthday cakes, especially.”
“Interesting. So, all that designer stuff, then. You and Carter should really have a talk.”
“Why?”
“He’s scoping out some local catering and distribution options for his bakery business. With the way the ranch is going, the timing’s not great to open up a new operation. He’s thinking of doing a renovation to add a commercial kitchen to the main house…once we get Jameson’s kid out.”
“How’s that going?”
“He got his notice. Should be out in a week.”
“Good,” she chirps.
“Anyway, if cakes are your thing, you should definitely have a chat with him.”
“Okay… if I see him around, I will.”
“There’s an easy way for me to help to make that happen.”
Ember looks away on my suggestion. Her hand flies to the side of her face, and she nervously tucks some locks of her hair behind her ear. “Well, good talking to you…”
“Wait,” I say as her words trail off.
She passes by me to leave, and I don’t even realize I’ve slipped my hand around her wrist until she pivots around to look at me, then down at where I’ve held onto her, and back up again.
Two Firefighters Next Door: A Bad Boy MFM Romance Page 8