Breaking_A Firefighter Romance

by Brandy Ayers

  “Holy shit.” The words were more a breath exhaled from Bekah’s lips than an exclamation. “How long has this taken you?”

  “About two years, I guess. We try to do a session about every three or four months. But since we do them after hours, sometimes Kym doesn’t have the energy to do much.” Charlotte’s heart slowed slightly, growing more used to being exposed in front of these women she so admired.

  “Charlotte, this is amazing. I feel like I have no idea who you are looking at this. Like I always thought you were just this shy, quiet woman who worked hard and didn’t get in anyone’s way. But really, you’re a badass underneath it all.” The reverence in Mira’s voice made Charlotte uncomfortable. It didn’t take much to get tattooed. You just had to be able to lay still for a couple hours, and not scratch at it once it started to heal.

  “Trust me, I’m no badass.” Turning back around, she almost didn’t want to show her face now. They had peeled back a layer of her skin, laying bare something they couldn’t understand. The artwork had been all Kym, Charlotte gave very little input into the design. It was more about the experience than anything. It was a few hours that Charlotte escaped her mind. But thankfully Kym had picked a design that she loved.

  Mira sighed this long-suffering sigh that Charlotte sometimes heard from her own mother when she became frustrated. “I wish you saw yourself the way others do. But let’s just leave it at a difference of opinion.”

  With a pat on her shoulder, Mira turned back to the living room, dishing up some Chinese food onto her plate.

  It felt a little silly going back to the bathroom to put her clothes back on, like she should have been able to just turn the hoodie on the right way, zip it up, and move on with their night. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it, even with her back to both women.

  After returning from the bathroom, this time in a t-shirt instead of her big pajama top, they settled in, eating good food, watching bad movies, and doing each other’s makeup. Bekah and Mira didn’t allow Charlotte to retreat back into herself. They kept up a lively thread of conversation and included her in everything they did. Before long, it didn’t feel like they were making special allowances to include her. It just felt like she belonged. Something she had never experienced before.

  Chapter Twelve

  “It is going to be okay.” Kym spun around in the receptionist’s chair once more while Charlotte paced up and down the silent room. “I’ll be here the whole time.”

  “I know, I know, but what if he doesn’t show? I’ve been talking myself up about this for almost two days now, what if I did all that work to be okay with this date only to have him bail.” Charlotte gathered her hair in her hand, pulling it off her overheated neck. “Oh God, what if he shows up and even all the pep talks and makeovers in the world couldn’t make him any more interested in me.”

  The makeup that she had been fine with just moments before weighed heavy on her skin. Off. It had to come off. “I knew I shouldn’t have let Bekah talk me into doing my makeup today. This isn’t me. I don’t wear makeup.” Her ribs squeezed tighter in her chest, preventing her burning lungs from taking in air. She ran for the bathroom, grabbing a paper towel from the dispenser and soaking it, then scrubbing it over her face. It came away with streaks of black, purple, and pink. Horrified, Charlotte looked up into the mirror to see all the colors spread over her face. The smoky purple eyeshadow Bekah had applied with painstaking precision only an hour ago now lay in ruins over Charlotte’s skin.

  “Hey, hey, it is going to be okay.” Kym rubbed reassuring circles on Charlotte’s heaving back. She slipped the towel out of her hand and turned Charlotte to face her. “You’re right. This makeup isn’t you. It is your friend Bekah. And though it looks beautiful on you, you don’t need it.” Kym dabbed at Charlotte’s face, correcting and washing away what she had done in her burst of panic.

  Out in the lobby, the bell over the door chimed, and a deep voice that Charlotte would know anywhere called out.

  Before words of doubt could even bubble out of Charlotte’s mouth, Kym was already on top of the situation. “I’m going out there to greet him. You take another minute to breathe, and then come out. If you are in here for any longer than sixty seconds, I’m coming back. Got it?”

  Charlotte nodded. Once Kym stepped out from the small bathroom, Charlotte closed her eyes, taking deep even breathes. She called to mind the positive visualization of how their date would go. Begging her body to calm down, for her heart to slow, and her lungs to loosen. They did, bit by bit, and Charlotte opened her eyes to look in the mirror. Thankfully, the mess of makeup had been wiped away, leaving her looking fresh and like herself. Whether that was good or bad, she didn’t know.

  Before she could second guess herself anymore, Charlotte turned and walked to the lobby. The most complex reddish-brown eyes met hers. For a moment, her heart stopped dead in her chest before it roared back to life drumming against her breast bone.

  Her vision widened out to take in the whole man. Deep brown skin, strong jaw, shoulders and arms that she knew for a fact rescued actual human beings on a regular basis. It was all too much. He was too much. Too beautiful. Too strong.

  In three steps, he was standing directly before her, his huge hands cupping her jaw, fingers brushing her temples. “Don’t look at me like that. Like you’re scared of me. There is nothing here you need to be afraid of.”

  Her body slumped, as if a string holding her taut had been released. “You’re perfect.” Her face burned red, embarrassed that those had been the first words she said to Trey’s face.

  “I was about to say the same thing.” His hands traveled down her neck, to her shoulders, then her arms. “Jesus, I want to touch every part of you. I’m trying really hard to hold back right now. I don't want to freak you out. But you are the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “I’m not…”

  “You are. I can’t stop looking.” It was true. His eyes roamed over her body and face, like he wanted to see it all but couldn’t decide where to start. “Why did it take so long for me to push to meet you? I should have had my hands on you weeks ago.”

  “You were being patient. I appreciated it.” Charlotte found her voice in increments, her body coming back into sync, and finding her center again.

  Trey laughed, a deep boom of air and gravel. “Well, I’m going to apologize now, then, because I am done being patient. Now that I’ve got you here in the flesh, I’m not sure I’m going to be able to let you go again.”

  Bending down, almost in slow motion, Trey kissed Charlotte’s forehead. It might have been brief and totally innocent, but her body reacted as if he’d stripped her clothes off and laid her across the nearby leather couch to have at her.

  Pulling back, Trey smiled the widest smile she’d ever had directed at her, and weaved their fingers together. “It is great to finally meet you, Charlotte.”

  “You too.” She bit her lip between her teeth, trying to contain her own enormous grin. Though she didn’t know why she tried to hide her happiness. Trey hadn’t tried to hide his.

  “Okay guys, I’m ready for you back here.” Kym interrupted their little moment, but Charlotte was strangely happy the charged atmosphere had been broken. She needed to gather her wits.

  “Let’s go get you inked.” Still holding her hand, he followed Kym to her private room.

  “Okay, I’ll just step out for a minute, so you can take your shirt off and get into position.” Kym turned to Trey, gesturing for him to follow her. “Why don’t we get you a drink while she gets set.”

  Trey nodded and reluctantly left the room, his eyes heating as he took Charlotte in one more time.

  Once she was alone again, Charlotte slumped against the vinyl table she had spent so many hours laying on while the tattoo needle buzzed over her. Trey’s entire presence was intoxicating. His scent, peppermint, smoke, and something indescribably male, fogged her brain and made her want things she’d never even really considered before.r />
  Knowing they wouldn’t be long, Charlotte pulled off the t-shirt she’d been wearing and folded it neatly on the side table. The fact that she laid naked in the room had never affected her quite like this before. She’d been nervous during her first few sessions, but Kym always managed to put her at ease, usually because the tattoo artist had seen much worse in her line of work than a girl’s naked back. But Trey would be there as well. The first date, and she was already getting half naked in front of him.

  Charlotte giggled. Maybe she was braver than she ever thought.

  She laid down on the table, folding her arms under her and resting her cheek there. Thankfully today they’d be working on her lower back, so she could stay in the position. The worst days were when she had to have her arms hanging down over the edges of the table for hours.

  The door snicked open, and two sets of footsteps entered. It wasn’t unusual for Charlotte to think people were watching her. If she forgot to put on deodorant or woke up too late to brush her teeth, she always convinced herself people could tell and were staring at her in disgust. But feeling Trey’s eyes rake over her was an altogether new sensation. Her skin prickled at the attention, as if every tiny hair on her body stood up and waved, seeking his attention and approval. Her heart picked up speed once again, but not as panicked now. More excited.

  As Kym skirted around the room getting her things ready, Trey placed a chair by Charlotte’s head. “Hey there, beautiful.”

  An uncontrollable smile bloomed over her face, and Charlotte buried down into the crook of her elbow.

  “Don’t do that. I like seeing you smile. Especially knowing I did it.” Gliding his fingers through her hair, he gripped the strands slightly and tugged.

  An unfamiliar heat and urgency beat through her as he pulled on her hair. Something she had never considered would be sexy. But she wanted to ask him to do it harder. To pull her head up and hold her in place while he discovered her mouth.

  Giving in to his need to see her face. Charlotte looked up once again, propping her chin on her arm. “No one has ever called me beautiful before. Or least, no one that wasn’t a girlfriend. I don’t know how to react.”

  “Just smile and take it.” Trey arched one thick black eyebrow in a suggestive smirk and Charlotte burst out laughing.

  “Okay, you two, no more of that. I can’t have you guys shaking the table as I’m permanently altering Char’s body.”

  Charlotte had been so focused on Trey that she’d almost forgotten where they were, and that there was another person in the room.

  “No more laughing, got it.” Trey saluted Kym, and turned immediately turned back to Charlotte. “Can I hold your hand while she works on you? You can squeeze whenever it hurts too much.”

  “I’ve sat through roughly twenty hours of this stuff without holding anyone’s hand, and had no problem. But I suppose, if it makes you feel better.” Something had gotten into Charlotte tonight. She almost felt like she was growing hutzpah or something.

  Trey smiled again, and Charlotte’s attention pulled to the deep dimples framing his mouth. “You have dimples.”

  “Indeed. My Mom likes to say these dimples are like a homing beacon for trouble.” Slipping his hand under her closest arm, Trey drew Charlotte’s hand into his own, kissing her palm, then cradling their joined hands under his chin.

  “Okay, here we go. The last session of your back piece. I feel like we should have gotten a cake or something.” Loud buzzing filled the room as Kym bent over Charlotte’s body and pressed the tattoo gun to her skin.

  Trey kept Charlotte’s hand under his chin as he shifted his gaze to where Kym worked. He flinched slightly, Charlotte assumed at the sight of the blood or the needles dragging across her skin. The burn of the artwork being etched into her skin lulled Charlotte into her Zen state, but she fought to stay present. She wanted to hear Trey talk more. His voice did things to her that she’d never experienced before and didn’t fully understand.

  “So, you and your dimples are trouble?” Charlotte rarely talked while getting tattooed, and realized she sounded different. Calmer. Maybe even a little sexy.

  Trey smirked, that playful eyebrow of his arching up again. “I didn’t say that. I said my Mom said they were beacons for trouble. Me and my dimples are totally innocent.”

  “Why don’t I believe that?”

  “Because you’re a smart woman.” Trey chuckled a little, but stopped when Kym cleared her throat pointedly. Looking a little sheepish at his slip, Trey turned back to Charlotte. “I might have been a bit of a handful as a teenager. Thought I was a whole lot cooler than I actually was. Acted like it too. Thankfully, when I was seventeen, I got my ass kicked by a guy whose girlfriend I had unleashed the power of the dimples on. Taught me an important lesson about only using the power of cheek craters for good.”

  Charlotte’s stomach churned. She figured Trey would be more experienced than her. The only people her age that weren’t were bound for a convent or monastery. But hearing evidence of it straight from his mouth stung. She couldn’t let on that it bothered her though. Normal dating twenty-somethings didn’t care about having a past. They were used to it. “Ahhh, reserved the power of the dimples for only single girls after that, did you?”

  “Not even much of that. These puppies have been on lock down for a good long time.” Trey glanced down her back as Kym wiped away some of the excess ink and blood before bending over to add more lines. “After high school, I got my bachelor’s degree in fire science and administration and worked full-time as a dispatcher. I didn’t really have time to mess with the ladies. Since then, I’ve been totally focused on my career. Getting my masters. Didn’t date more than a handful of times in the last ten years or so.”

  Relieved to know he hadn’t been running around dating everyone with boobs, Charlotte smiled and shifted her head to rest her ear against her bicep. “I didn’t know you could study fire science.”

  “Oh yeah. Most guys don’t, but I always knew this is what I wanted to do. Since I was a kid, I always said I wanted to be a fireman. That’s what I dressed as for every single Halloween that I had a say in the matter. Most guys don't bother to get a four-year degree, but I wanted to run my own station someday, maybe even become fire marshal, investigate arsons. A degree gives me a leg up with that.”

  The confidence in his voice as he spoke of his calling pulled at something deep in Charlotte’s belly. Maybe her own career hadn’t been a lifelong endeavor, but now that she had her dream job within her grasp, she was hesitating. Doubting herself. Trey would never do that, and she found herself strangely jealous.

  As Kym steadily worked at shading in the remainder of the piece, Trey took his self assigned duty of distracting Charlotte to heart. He held her hand, filling her in on his life as if they sat in a cafe, not a tattoo studio after hours.

  The revelations came fast as he told her about his parents, a minister father and stay at home mother. How they were always struggling a little, just keeping their heads above water. How they decided to become foster parents after one of Trey’s friends started staying with them in his teens. At times, their house held as many as six kids, all in a four-bedroom house.

  “That had to have been hard for you, always having kids come in and out.” Trey tended to think about his answers before responding, and also truly listening as Charlotte spoke. Most people tried to think of what their response would be before ever hearing a full question. But Trey gave Charlotte every bit of his attention when she spoke. She’d never felt so heard in her entire life.

  “Yes and no. I was old enough to understand these kids we took in needed us. Needed a safe place.” Trey brought her hand up to his mouth, brushing his thick lips against her knuckles. “The loss of privacy sucked. But the hardest part was having to watch kids go back to family situations you knew weren’t going to turn out well.” Sadness swirled in his eyes, and Charlotte had the feeling he might be thinking of someone in particular with the comment.

&nb
sp; “Are they still foster parents?”

  Trey shook his head, a frown now marring his normally gentle and open face. “No, it got to be a little too much for them. Social services kept sending them the really rough cases because they were known for being patient and kind. But it burnt them out fast.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  “It is what it is.” Reaching up, Trey swipes a strand of her hair back behind her ear. The move so intimate, it sent Charlotte’s heart reeling in a pace she’d never known before. Not panic. Not embarrassment. Just need for more of his touches. “What about you? What are your parents like?”

  Nobody had ever asked Charlotte about her parents before, so she didn’t know how to respond right away. “My Dad is quiet. Introspective. He was a chemical engineer for an energy company. My Mom is, well, a bit of a wild card. I didn’t know for years, but she is bipolar, and when she goes off her meds, she swings from depressed to manic incredibly fast. When she is managing the disorder, she is a little cold. Proud. Traditional. She wanted me to be a ballerina, like she was. Trained me from the time I was a little girl. But I hated standing up in front of people and performing. The first time I tried on a stage in front of an audience, I threw up and begged her not to make me do it again. I’m not sure she ever got over that. She thought if I wasn’t going to be a world-famous ballerina, then I should find a husband, preferably well off, and have a family.”

  “Sounds like she’d put a lot of pressure on you.” Eyes burning with indignation on her behalf stayed locked right on her face. Trey wasn’t letting anything slip by him, that much was obvious.

  “It is what it is.”

  His smile at her use of his own words had her stomach flipping and tying in knots.

  “She loves me, just in her own way. Neither of them were very affectionate, with each other or me. I think I can remember the number of times they’ve hugged me on one hand.”