Scorchin' (The Hot Boys Series Book 2)

by Olivia Rush

  “Did you put out any fires?” he asked, wide-eyed.

  “You bet I did,” I said.

  Ever since he hit age five, Jason had begun taking a major interest in my job. I found myself wondering if that meant he was thinking about following in my footsteps.

  I set Jason down and spotted Janie, the nanny who lived in with Jason while I was doing my days at the station.

  “Morning, Mr. Black,” she said, her bag already packed and in her hand.

  “Morning, Janie. And please—you know I hate being called that.”

  She flashed me a smile, the wrinkles on her middle-aged features fanning out from the corners of her mouth.

  “I know, I know,” she said. “The last client I had was a real stickler about that sort of stuff. Old habits die hard.”

  “Well,” I said. “I was just making some pancakes for breakfast. Want to join us before you go?”

  “As good as pancakes sound, I’ve got a lunch date with my middle daughter. But you boys enjoy.”

  With that, Janie headed out, Jason saying his goodbyes as she stepped through the door.

  I watched her leave with a strange feeling in my gut. Janie was great—no doubt about that. But I hated the idea of leaving Jason alone for half the week without a parent. Things had been so easy when Katie was in the picture, but that wasn’t the case anymore. As much as the idea of moving on still struck me as all but unthinkable, I knew that Jason needed a woman in his life, one who could actually be there for him in the way my job didn’t let me.

  “So!” I said, turning my attention back to the breakfast in progress. “I bet you’ve had a busy week, dude.”

  “Yeah!” said Jason, and then he was off to the races.

  He went through all of the events of the last few days in precise detail, letting me know about everything that was going on with school, his friends, and every other subject he could think of. And I loved hearing every bit of it. I loved my job, but sometimes being apart from him for so long felt like a punishment someone had sentenced me to, like I was doing a few days a week at the county jail, with only a short time to enjoy my freedom and family before being sent back.

  But I knew the job wasn’t a punishment, far from it, actually—it was the only job I could imagine myself doing. Something had to change. I just didn’t know what.

  “Janie let me watch the news last night,” Jason said as I slid a big stack of pancakes onto his plate.

  “Oh, did she now?” I asked, setting the bottle of syrup onto the bar counter.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I finished my homework early and I saw there was another fire, so I wanted to see if I could see you.”

  “And did you?” I asked.

  “Yeah!” he said. “I mean, I think I did. You guys all dress the same. But you were there, right?”

  “Sure was, bud.”

  A huge smile crossed his face.

  “Then I can’t wait to tell everyone at school you put out the fire!”

  “Wasn’t just me,” I said. “I have a whole team of really tough, really brave guys. And we all have each other’s backs. You’ve even met some of them, remember?”

  Jason looked away for a second, as if trying to sift through his memory files. But it had been a couple of years since I’d taken him to the station.

  “Kind of,” he said. “I remember the dog!”

  I smirked.

  “Everyone remembers Mitch,” I said. “Maybe they ought to just go ahead and make him the chief.”

  I loaded up a plate with a stack of pancakes of my own, covered them in syrup, and dug in. My days off weren’t just a break from work—I stuck to a very strict, high-protein, low-carb diet throughout the week, and hanging out with Jason was as good a time as any to cheat a little.

  “So, champ,” I said, ripping a chunk off of a pancake. “What do you feel up for today?”

  I glanced outside at the rows of trees that lined the sidewalk of my street, noting that the leaves were beginning their fall turn into deep reds and gold.

  “Um, I dunno,” he said, rolling up one of his pancakes and pouring some syrup down the middle.

  “How about a trip to Prospect Park?” I asked. “Weather’s supposed to be pretty darn nice.”

  His eyes lit up.

  “Yeah!” he said. “We can see all the dogs!” Then a slightly worried expression formed on his face. “There’ll be dogs there, right?” he asked.

  “Something tells me there will be,” I said.

  “OK, good,” he said, relief in his voice. Apparently, he’d been genuinely worried about going to the park and not being able to see a single dog there.

  Jason and I finished up breakfast and once we were all washed up, we got ready to head out. I grabbed my coal-black pea coat from the closet and buttoned it up all the way, flipping the collar up in anticipation of some chilly autumn winds. Once I was done, I made sure Jason was dressed up in much the same way.

  The trip took about thirty minutes, Jason and I having to ride the train first into Manhattan, then down to Prospect Park. But as soon as we stepped through the archway that lead into the great expanse of green, its rolling hills broken up by the curves of the sidewalks and the colorful tops of the trees, I knew we’d made a good call. I loved living in New York but being able to get to nature whenever possible was essential to living there.

  “Dad!” shouted out Jason as we ambled along. “Look at that!”

  He tugged my jeans and pointed off in the distance at a pair of golden retrievers playing with one another on the grass.

  “Can I play with them?” he asked.

  “Maybe,” I said. “Might want to check with the owners first.”

  I watched as he ran up to an older couple who appeared to be the owners of the dogs and ask them a question that, judging by the expression on his face, was the most important question anyone had ever asked anyone in history. The couple laughed and nodded, and Jason was off. He rushed over to the two dogs and introduced himself by petting them enthusiastically before getting them involved in a game of fetch.

  The couple looked over at me, and I mouthed “thank you” before turning my attention back to the park around me.

  However, as soon as I plopped down on a bench and slipped my hands in my coat pockets, my mind turned right back to Callie. The girl was like a damn invader—I couldn’t believe how often I’d caught myself thinking about her.

  And just the thought of her last night was enough to make my heart start beating faster. Sure, I’d been giving her a hard time, but I really was worried about her getting in over her head, maybe even getting into danger. My line of work was only for the well trained and physically capable, and I could tell that she would’ve loved to poke around where she didn’t belong. It’d be an easy way for her to get hurt, or worse.

  Right at that moment, I spotted a slim figure about fifty paces off. It was a woman dressed in black jeans, a leather jacket, and a white blouse. A dark beanie was pulled over her hair, but beneath it I could see strands of a very familiar shade of fire-red.

  I knew right away it had to be Callie. I couldn’t freaking believe it—was this girl really following me around? I had to figure it out and put a stop to it right away. I hopped off the bench and started toward her.

  “There’re laws against stalking, you know,” I said, cutting the distance between us.

  She turned on her heels, and as soon as I caught sight of those electric blue eyes, then I knew without a doubt that it was her.

  “Holy shit!” she shot out, the curse coming out like two words smashed into one.

  “I’m gonna ask you this once,” I said, my expression turning hard. “Are you seriously following me around at the park on my day off?”

  “Good to see you, too,” she, said, running her hands down her hips in some attempt to calm herself down.

  “Seriously,” I said. “I get the ‘persistent reporter’ shtick, but this is starting to get a little ridiculous.”

  Withou
t thinking, my eyes watched her hands move down along her curves. As annoyed as I might’ve been with her at that moment, she looked as hot as ever. She was absolutely poured into those jeans, and her blouse was unbuttoned just enough that I could spot a hint of cleavage. But I refocused myself as quickly as I could.

  “You think I came to the park to stalk you or something?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips. “Come on—I’m tenacious, but I’m not psycho.”

  “It’s just a pretty damn big coincidence that you’re here after what happened last night,” I said, “and I don’t really believe in coincidences.”

  “Two people who both live in Brooklyn deciding to spend their Saturday morning in the best park in the borough isn’t really that much of a coincidence. And how the hell would I even know you would be here, anyway?”

  I guess she had me there.

  “Well, after you decided to show up at the fire yesterday, you’re gonna have to forgive me for thinking that you might be capable of more than that.”

  She looked away for a moment, her icy blue eyes focused on some point off to the side while she thought.

  “I mean, if we’re already talking to one another, we might as well discuss stuff that I could use for the article.”

  I wanted to throw up my hands right then and there.

  “You just don’t give up, do you?” I asked.

  “Asking a journalist to just give up is like asking a firefighter to not rush into a burning building. It’s stuff that’s not compatible with those lines of work.”

  I shook my head as I realized that this girl was going to hound me until I threw her something she could chew on.

  “Besides,” she said, focusing those gorgeous eyes on me again, “I’ve been doing some thinking about what you said to me, and you’re right.”

  I raised my eyebrows. Now this I had to hear.

  “Go on,” I said.

  “I mean, yeah, I guess you’re right that it’s stupid for someone who has no experience with this kind of stuff to go wading into the middle of something that could be a string of arsons for all anyone knows.”

  I thought back to those turned-off sprinklers in the server room and realized just how right she might be.

  “So,” she went on, “I’m thinking that instead of playing wannabe investigative reporter, I’m just going to go ahead and turn this story into more of a human-interest piece. You know, focus on the station and the firemen, like I’d said I was going to do to begin with.”

  “Good call,” I said.

  Then she raised her eyebrows at me expectantly, and I knew right away where this was going.

  “Dad!” came Jason’s voice, cutting through the mild tension.

  He ran up to me, clearly full of energy from his time with the dogs.

  “Those dogs were awesome! Their names were Max and Jeff, and they’re brothers, and—”

  Then he noticed I was in the middle of a conversation with a woman he’d never seen before.

  “Who’s she?”

  “You have a kid?” Callie asked.

  I really wasn’t interested in giving this nosy little reporter more information than I wanted to, but I knew it wasn’t like I could play this one off.

  “Yep,” I said. “Jason, this is Miss Callie. Say ‘hi.’”

  “Hi, Miss Callie,” he said, not shy in the slightest.

  She dropped to her knees.

  “Wow, now this is a handsome little dude,” she said. “You having fun at the park with your dad?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I was worried there weren’t going to be any dogs, but there’s a bunch.”

  “That’s good,” she said. “Gotta have dogs when you go to the park.”

  Jason nodded enthusiastically as Callie stood back up.

  “So,” she said. “About what we were discussing…”

  “OK,” I offered. “How about this: If I agree for a sit-down with you, maybe over dinner or something, will that be enough for you?”

  “Depends on how much good stuff you tell me. But then again, I’m sure there are plenty of other guys at your station who’d love to be interviewed.”

  I winced at the idea of any of the other guys being subjected to the Callie Sullivan treatment—I was going to have to jump on this grenade.

  “Fine,” I said. “I’ll tell you whatever you need as long as it doesn’t have to do with the fires. Or anything too personal.”

  “Naturally,” she said. “How about tonight?”

  I remembered that Jason had a sleepover, so it did fit into my schedule. “Works for me,” I said. “I know a great place in Greenpoint that’s nice and quiet, perfect for conversation.”

  “Awesome,” said Callie, flashing an extremely attractive smile. “I can give you a call, but I guess I’ll need your phone number.”

  Was I imagining a blush rising on her cheeks as she dug her phone out of her pocket? I couldn’t think of the last time I’d given a woman my number—let alone the last time I’d let a woman be the one to ask. I bit my tongue and tapped in the number, then I handed her phone back over.

  “Great.” She grinned. “I’ll be in touch. Enjoy the rest of your day, and nice meeting you, Jason.”

  With that, she was off, and I was torn between two very distinct desires—one, to get this interview over with, and two, to get to know Callie a little better. Well, more than a little better.

  7

  CALLIE

  I spent the ride home from Prospect Park feeling conflicted but more than a little excited. I’d gotten the interview with Stone that I was hoping for. It probably wasn’t going to be the all-access thing I’d wanted, but I’d surely be able to get something good out of it. I mean, even if I wasn’t going to have a behind-the-scenes story, at the very least, I could put together an interesting profile on the guys at the station.

  Still, I couldn’t shake the notion that the story I wanted wasn’t the one I was getting. After being at the scene of the fire, I couldn’t get the image of the blaze out of my mind—not to mention the sight of the firemen at work. They were definitely a heroic bunch, and they deserved to have the city know more about them.

  I soon arrived back in Williamsburg, the chill in the air a little frostier than it’d been at the park. After bumping into Stone, there was now something else I couldn’t get out of my mind: the image of him and his son. It was strange—I’d never thought that a guy being a dad would’ve been something that appealed to me, but there I was, smiling at the sight of Stone playing with that kid of his.

  It was all so odd, so unlike me. But, most importantly, I had a big night ahead, and I wanted to make my best impression. So, once back at my apartment, I threw on some music and, after spending a few hours working on my article, began going through my clothes in preparation for the evening ahead.

  Needing to hear a familiar voice, I dialed up my coworker Meg and threw her on speakerphone while I went through my stuff.

  “You’re seriously going on a date with that fireman? The one from TV?”

  “No!” I exclaimed, holding up a deep red cocktail dress as I stood in front of my full-length mirror. “It’s not a date. It’s a work thing.”

  Meg’s lilting laugh sounded from the phone.

  “OK, are you just telling yourself that, or what?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, this guy’s single, right?”

  “Yeah. I mean, as far as I know.”

  “And unless you’ve met some amazing dude in the last few days, then you’re single too, right?”

  “Listen,” I said, tossing the red dress into a pile in the corner along with the other rejects. “A man and a woman can go out for drinks without it being a date, you know? Especially here in New York—men and women meet up for, you know, business reasons and all that.”

  “‘Business reasons,’” said Meg, her tone dry.

  “What?” I said. “I mean, it’s true. That’s why we’re meeting up tonight, I mean.”

&nb
sp; “For ‘business reasons.’”

  “Yeah. Stone told me that I shouldn’t get in over my head with the fire article, so we agreed to do more of a personal piece.”

  Another laugh sounded.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Are you listening to yourself?” asked Meg. “How many levels of ‘totally deluded’ are you on?”

  I clamped my hands to my hips and cocked my head as I looked over a few more dresses that I’d laid out on my bed.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “I don’t know what’s the most unbelievable thing about what you just said, that you’re doing something just because some guy told you to, or that you’re dropping your story because it sounds like too much legwork.”

  I opened my mouth, ready to throw what Meg had said right back at her. But then I realized she wasn’t too far off the mark. Stone had suggested—more than suggested, really—that I stay away from the juiciest parts of the story and I went right along with it, going with the human-interest angle.

  Deep down, however, I wanted that story. I wanted to get to the bottom of those fires, and I wanted my name in big letters in the byline when it went to print. And I wanted all of the praise and laudations that would come from putting out something like that.

  “Callie?” said Meg. “Earth to Callie?”

  “I’m here, I’m here,” I said, shaking my head and coming back to reality. “Listen—I need to finish getting ready, so I’m gonna let you go.”

  “Mmmk,” said Meg. “Have fun with the gorgeous fireman. Don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do.”

  I chuckled.

  “Sure,” I said. “I’ll keep you posted.”

  I stood in place for a few minutes longer, Meg’s words echoing in my mind. Was she right that I was on some delusional level right now? Was I being motivated by desires and urges that weren’t what I’d thought they were? I mean, if I’d said that I wanted to turn this into a human-interest story, yet deep down still wanted to write the piece that I’d planned, what did that say about why I was meeting with Stone?

  Was I really hoping something more would happen than just a friendly tête-à-tête?