by M. A. Grant
Bringing food to hungry firefighters is clearly the way to find acceptance. Between the parking lot and the kitchen, I shake more hands and hear more names than I can possibly remember. Jake doesn’t seem to mind their less than subtle ribbing about his giving me a tour. Jake drops the bags in the kitchen, where I’m swept into a crushing hug by the chef of the night. Eventually Jake manages to extricate me from Travis’s grip and leads me around the station.
I’m surprised to find a full workout room. He leans against the wall and watches as I sit on the weights bench and pretend to pump iron. ‘I feel stronger already,’ I joke. ‘This is a great way to spend your downtime when you’re not on a call.’
‘You should see the TV,’ he quips and pushes off the wall. I scoot back on the bench as he nears and he straddles it, sitting on the end opposite me. We remain there quietly, the sound from the other rooms echoing dimly through the station.
He clears his throat. ‘What do you think?’
Tension I didn’t know I’d started carrying eases out of my spine. ‘They’re great guys,’ I assure him. ‘I can see why you like working here so much.’
‘It’s a good job.’
His fingertips are inches from mine, resting on the bench. I wonder what he’d do if I brushed my fingers against his.
‘Thanks for bringing the groceries by.’ His voice is low. ‘You didn’t have to do that.’
‘I know.’
‘So why did you?’
His fingers reach for mine, stretching out and brushing tip to tip. I suck in a breath at the same moment he does and our eyes meet. The truth slips out. ‘You’re good with kids.’
Bemused, he shakes his head. ‘I don’t see a connection.’
‘You were great with that boy in the store. I guess …’ I shift and our fingertips separate. His hand holds at the same place, giving me the choice to reconnect. I don’t take it. ‘I guess a guy who can get along so well with a kid can’t be so bad.’
His fingers lift and brush my cheek so fleetingly I’d doubt the contact happened if my eyes weren’t open. He stands and holds out a hand to me. But it’s my turn for confusion. ‘Why’d you do that?’
‘Because during those rare moments when you don’t want to tear my head off, I think I might find you attractive and, on rarer occasions, almost nice. And, for some reason that’s impossible to understand, those moments kind of make me hope we may actually be able to maintain this truce.’
‘I’m beginning to understand the sentiment,’ I murmur, placing my hand in his and letting him pull me to my feet.
Chapter 4
I’m collecting plates from around the table when Jeff nudges me in the ribs with his elbow. ‘She’s something else,’ he murmurs.
Across the table, Maya laughs at a joke Travis said and for a second I’m stuck here, watching her. In the back of my mind, I’ve always known Maya’s pretty, but the sight of her at ease makes her beautiful. All the other guys have already noticed and most of dinner consisted of them telling her stories, each trying to one-up the others. She took it all in her stride and even responded equally to each story. Except mine. Granted, I didn’t really tell it—the guys told it about me—but it was the only one she didn’t really react to. Figures.
Jeff asks, ‘Are you two together?’ and I’m on high alert.
‘No,’ I tell him quietly. Before he can ask anything else, I head toward the sink.
I dump the dishes into the soapy water and return to the table for the last of the glasses. Most of the guys have excused themselves and moved into the living room to settle around the TV to watch the game. Maya stands and reaches for the bowl of salad.
‘Nice try,’ Jeff says, pulling out of her reach. ‘We’re on leftover patrol.’
‘I’ll help,’ she protests, but Jeff and Travis shake their heads.
I smile at her grumpy frown and step next to her chair. Leaning down to take her glass, I whisper to her, ‘You’re a guest. Don’t be rude.’
Her nose wrinkles. ‘How is it rude to help?’
‘Guests are supposed to relax.’ I straighten and brush my fingers over her bare shoulder. ‘So sit back and enjoy yourself for once.’
I ignore the way her lips part slightly from the touch and walk away like nothing happened. Jeff and Travis throw plastic wrap over the leftovers and shove them into the fridge, vacating the room so Maya and I have some time alone. It’s a misguided attempt to be helpful, but it’s the thought that counts.
I’m in the middle of scrubbing a plate when soft footfalls approach. She stands beside me at the sink, holding a dish towel in hand. ‘Can I help?’
‘Sure.’
I wash, she dries. In order for us both to fit by the sink, she ends up pressed up against my side, her warmth seeping through my shirt where her shoulder bumps against my arm. Her perfume is a mix of flowers and coconut, just how a tropical beach would smell.
‘So is it true?’
‘Huh?’ I look away from my rinsing of a glass to try to read her expression. ‘Is what true?’
‘That story about you and the homeless guy?’
I return to my job and try to figure out how to answer the question. She accepts the glass from me and dries it, watching me the entire time. It takes me another two plates before I can answer.
‘I guess.’
‘You guess?’ She sounds torn between amusement and frustration. ‘All that thoughtful silence and the best you can give me is “I guess”?’
I shrug. ‘I was just doing my job.’
She nods and puts a dry plate down on the growing stack. ‘Right. You dragged a burned man out of a building he was squatting in so he didn’t die in the fire. When you were starting to run low on your oxygen. Because that qualifies as just your job.’
‘Yeah.’ I pull the drain and watch the suds swirl away. ‘I mean, we hope it never happens, but we train for it.’
‘I can’t believe men like you actually exist,’ she mutters.
The opportunity’s there, so I take it. ‘Why’s that?’
She doesn’t fall for my question. ‘Haven’t seen many examples of it.’ She shakes her head and her voice hardens. ‘You’ll show your true colours at some point.’
‘Cynical much?’
‘Just realistic.’
I point a soapy fork at her. ‘I finally get it. You’re pissed at me because you don’t think there can be any decent guys out there and I’ve proved you wrong.’
Her laughter is brittle. ‘Wow, your ego’s impressive.’
‘No, I’m right. You’re pissed off that I haven’t lived up to your all men are assholes theory.’ I grin at her. ‘That’s a bitch.’
‘I’m not pissed off about that—’
‘So you do have a theory about men?’ I can’t help it. I throw my head back and laugh, imagining all the poor bastards she’s verbally eviscerated because they started to prove that they might be decent human beings. ‘Well, Maya, I hate to tell you, but I’ll never prove you right.’
‘You sound awfully sure of yourself.’
‘That’s because I think I can manage to prove I’m not a douche.’
‘Just because you’re not obvious about it doesn’t mean you’re Mr Perfect.’
‘I never claimed to be. Try your best honey, but you’re never going to win this one.’
The tip of her tongue darts out and she licks her lower lip. Dammit, instant hard-on. I shift uncomfortably, trying to find a subtle way to adjust so I’m not stabbing the counter.
‘So you don’t mind if I ask you a few questions, right?’
I shake my head. ‘Ask away.’
‘You don’t have a death wish?’
Weird question. ‘No.’ I rinse out the sink once more and hold out my hand for her towel. ‘I wouldn’t do that to Cat.’
‘A hero without a death wish. I wonder how you could play that on stage,’ she muses as she hands it over.
I hate the label. ‘I’m not a hero.’
�
�Catherine thinks you are.’
I stiffen mid-drying and eye her. ‘What the hell does that mean?’
She turns and leans against the counter, holding my gaze. ‘You seriously don’t know? Since your parents died, you became Captain Control. Jake Jacobs, the tragic firefighter with a heart of gold, taking care of his sister so her life doesn’t come to a standstill. You’ve sacrificed everything for her. She loves you like crazy for doing that.’
My stomach’s churning and it’s not from Travis’s cooking. ‘I hear a but coming on.’
‘But,’ she says, eyebrow arching, ‘I don’t buy the act.’
Heat creeps up my neck. Embarrassment or rage, I’m not sure yet. ‘What act?’ I bite out.
Her finger pokes my chest. ‘You’re not perfect, Jake Jacobs. No matter what you try to convince other people.’
I reach up and clasp her hand, forcing her finger away. I don’t like this line of discussion. Thank God the guys are in the living room watching the game.
‘I’m not trying to convince people of anything.’
She scoffs at that and takes a step closer to me. ‘I’ve known men like you. You sacrifice for everyone else because you’re too scared to go out and grab life by the balls. You act stoic and distance yourself from the people who need you most. No one can read what’s going on under the surface. It’s easy enough to put on a good face for everyone else, but after a while, that control starts to slip.’
Her other hand slides up my arm, to my shoulder, my neck. Her fingers trail along my chin and I can’t move. Not a fucking inch. Because she’s voicing the thoughts I’ve been fighting to ignore for years. I never should have played this game with her …
She lifts to her tiptoes, hand curling around the back of my neck, and whispers in my ear, ‘The only question is what happens when your control snaps? Do you start running into fires you can’t survive? Drink? Fight with your sister?’ Her lips close on my earlobe and I can’t keep down the rising groan. I feel her smile rather than see it. ‘Or do you end up in a woman’s bed and pretend it never happened?’
Everything clicks sharply into place. I jerk back, searching her face. ‘Wait—’
She blinks and her smile loses some of its triumphant edge.
I’m still holding her hand and my skin sparks where her other hand is clasped around my neck, but now I get it.
‘You’re trying to get back at me because you’re angry I’m keeping my promise about not sleeping with you again.’
‘Wha—? No!’
She attempts to retreat, but it’s my turn. I take a half step in, until our fronts are pressed against each other. She breathes faster and her eyes narrow as she glares up at me.
‘You hate that you want me. You hate that you want a normal, nice guy and you hate that you can’t avoid me because you’re too good of a person to ditch Cat.’
Shouts and complaints come from the living room. The game’s heating up. Any second, the heat between Maya and I may burn this kitchen to the ground.
She doesn’t deny anything I’ve said, doesn’t even attempt to argue with me. She’s shutting down. I’ll be damned if she does that to me.
‘You’re acting right now,’ I accuse. ‘You can look bored, but guess what you can’t change? Your breathing. Your pulse. Your eyes.’
‘My eyes?’ Her voice sounds uninterested, but her heartbeat hammers under the delicate skin of her wrist.
‘Yes, Maya. Your eyes. You’ve never been able to make them lie. Why do you think I always end up arguing with you? You’re looking for a fight and I’m the nearest punching bag. No matter how damn polite you sound, your eyes always say “fuck off and die”.’
‘Oh, do tell what they’re saying right now. I’m sure it’ll be a familiar story for you.’
I bend my head. She shivers when I lower my lips to her ear and murmur, ‘That’s where you’re wrong. Because you may be saying “fuck off and die”, but your eyes are saying “bend me over right now and fu—”’
I don’t get a chance to finish. She snaps her head to the side, her lips crashing into mine so ferociously I think we may have drawn blood. Deep inside, some part of me that heard her words agrees.
***
Jake’s right. I hate him. I hate that everything he said is true. I hate that he’s the best man I’ve ever met. Most of all, I hate that he now knows how much I don’t hate him at all.
This kiss has nothing to do with warmth or kindness. All my anger, my frustration, my pain goes into it. He’s the first man who has ever seen past all my lies and my defences. And he’s the only man who still wants me just as badly.
I want to deserve a man like him. I want to prove that no matter how messed up I am, maybe we could be … I don’t even know … more.
He pulls back, corner of his lip swollen from my attack, eyes dazed. Fear twists inside me and I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
‘Dammit,’ he mutters.
The moment his lips crush back against mine, the fear vanishes. His arms wrap around my back, hands pressing me tighter to his body. My breasts flatten against his chest. His shoulder flex under my hands as he lifts me, stepping forward in a smooth motion to set me on the counter, forcing my legs wide so he can step between them, as close to me as we can be with clothes still on.
And I still want more.
A loud cheer from the other room breaks us apart. I try not to pant and the fast, rapid expansions of Jake’s chest mean he’s in the same place as me. He makes a frustrated noise and rests his forehead against mine. His lips brush my mouth, stealing kisses between breaths.
‘Can’t stop … kissing you,’ he complains.
‘Then don’t,’ I order.
The hand splayed against the small of my back contracts. My lips part and his tongue slips inside—
And then the freaking station alarm goes off.
I have never heard Jake utter such foul words as when he rips his mouth from mine. Complaints and grumbles come from the living room, along with Nelson’s plaintive, ‘I had twenty bucks riding on this game.’
Jeff pops his head around the doorway. ‘Jacobs—Shit, sorry.’
‘Coming,’ Jake says.
‘Go,’ I urge, pushing against his shoulders. ‘Just …’ I swallow and try not to sound too stupid. ‘Be safe.’
The corners of his eyes soften and he promises, ‘I’ll be fine. I’ll call later.’
He presses one more kiss to my lips and he’s gone, vanishing down the hall behind the other men.
My legs tremble when I hop down from the counter. I remain in the kitchen as the sound of shouts and bay doors opening rise and fall. There are the sirens. Even through the thick walls I hear them wailing their way down the street, turning towards the light and fading out as they head towards the south section of town.
I grab my purse and leave, making sure to pull the door shut behind me so it locks. I start to drive home. My groceries sit forlornly in the back of my car and the radio plays another catchy song. Only one thought keeps running through my head:
He said he’d call me later.
Chapter 5
I recheck my gear, forcing my mind to return to thoughts of work instead of a certain woman who kissed the hell out of me in our station kitchen. I’m not sure what pushed Maya to react, but I do know one thing: she didn’t deny that she wants me. Doesn’t seem like the normal reaction of a woman who’s supposedly only waiting for me to screw up …
The siren wails as we speed through the streets. The engine’s taken us into the blue-collar district of the town, out on the waterfront where the old warehouses and canneries still stand. Some remain in use, while others are abandoned. We don’t care much about that. We’re more focused on the fact that if the fire catches, there’s a lot it can spread to.
It doesn’t look like much when we pull up. Smoke billows from the building, but there’s no visible flame. Workers stand in a crowd a few warehouses down in various stages of shock. Hoses are dragged out, hydra
nts opened, and our captain’s gathering what info he can.
‘I recognise this place,’ Jeff says. ‘My cousin used to work here. Storage place.’
‘What’d they store?’ Travis asks.
‘Files mostly.’
Captain Blake returns, silencing the conversation. ‘Reports of three employees still inside¸’ he updates us. ‘There’s an office about thirty feet inside and to the left. Bathrooms across the hall from it.’
Travis gets the nozzle in position with Nelson backing him up, while Ty, Jeff, and I prepare to enter the building. Being on the rescue team is why I love my job. This is the part of firefighting that every kid dreams of: saving someone. The knowledge that we’ve got three people trapped inside adds an urgency and puts me further on edge. See, out of all she said earlier, that’s the one thing Maya got wrong. I’m not one of those idiots who runs into fires.
Fire lives. It breathes. It fucks you up when you get lazy or arrogant. I’m damn good at my job, partially because I like living and I have a healthy fear of burning. Anyone who says otherwise is full of shit.
Captain gives the order and we go in.
The inside is dark, already heavy with smoke despite the cavernous space. Our flashlights’ beams reflect off the clouds filling the building. The familiar growl of far-off flames cuts through the noise in my mask. We work our way toward the office as our radios squawk updates.
‘Fire department!’ Ty bellows as we enter the hallway. The smoke’s thicker here, concentrated in the narrow space. No answer.
‘Fire department!’ I yell. ‘Where are you?’
Three doors await us, two to the outer wall, one to the inside. Jeff takes the first bathroom, while Ty and I try to enter the office. The door is jammed. Ty moves aside and I kick, gratified by the sound of wood splintering. A few more kicks and the door gives, swinging inside.
The hall may be smoky, but the office is worse and black as hell. Our lights swing as we move. My breathing—a strange, claustrophobic sound—echoes in the mask. The front portion of the office appears empty, except for a few tipped chairs and file cabinets.