by Brynn Hale
“Thirty-six.” I turn toward her. “And you?”
“Twenty-seven.”
She’s only four years older than my baby sister.
She turns toward me. “I was teased in high school, incessantly. I had acne that was horrible. I was extremely overweight. And I liked hanging out with the adults more than the kids. So one day of my senior year, I went to the counselor’s office and told him that I wanted to be a firefighter. He laughed in my face and then called in another counselor and when I said it again, they laughed together. They explained why I couldn’t be one, but I didn’t listen to them. I wanted it. I wanted it bad.”
Every word from her mouth is both passionate and painful.
She clears her throat. “I stood up and told them to ‘fuck off’ and I walked my way to the Principal’s office, imagining they would turn me in. They didn’t. I think because they didn’t want to have to explain why they were laughing at me. But Principal Butler pulled me into her office. She told me that she could see my potential. That she could see I was meant to be someone and to do something big in life. So I told her what I wanted to do and she helped me get into the fire science program at Purdue. She started working out with me, dragging me from bed some mornings. And I lost fifty pounds in a year. And the rest is history. I owe her everything.”
“She sounds like a great role model.”
“She was…is. I still talk to her about once every few months. She keeps telling me to do more, be more.”
“I’m…I’m sorry about today. I’ll do better, I swear.”
Her hand inches closer to my thigh, but she stops herself.
“I just don’t need a man to do for me what I can do for myself.”
And that’s a problem because at this moment, I want to do everything for this flower. I’ll try my hardest to let her bloom on her own. But it will be a struggle.
I lean back and look back up at the stars. I look over and their reflection is making her eyes glow.
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper.
She smiles and whispers back, “And you’re fucking hot.”
I chuckle loudly. “Thanks.”
“And thanks.”
And in thirty seconds, the beauty of the moment is interrupted by duty.
She might have tricked me into making a fool of myself earlier today, but I have a feeling that I’m a fool for her no matter what.
Chapter Four
Gemma
Yesterday, I stayed far away from Bax. We only had two calls. We worked well together, but when we were back at the station, he stayed far away from me, too.
And something about it killed me.
We’d had a moment on the roof. A moment that made my stomach do a fancy Cirque du Soleil move when I thought about it.
And now I’m getting off duty and I’m feeling like I don’t want to go home and sleep, but it’s seven in the evening and I should be exhausted, but I’m not.
I sit in my car, leaning my head back and just taking some deep breaths.
My phone rings. I hit the answer button on my steering wheel.
“Hello.”
“Hey, lady, what’s up?” Velma’s voice.
“Nothing.”
There’s a long silence.
“Gemma, I know you better than that.”
She’s right, she does. We went through fire school together and helped each other pass every class.
“There’s a new guy…”
“At the station?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t.”
I knew that was coming.
I laugh. “Don’t what?” I play innocent.
“Don’t even think about it. Don’t you remember Erik and me and how horrible it was. So horrible that I had to move stations. Do you want to have to do that? I know you love that station. Don’t do it.”
“What if it could happen?”
“It won’t.”
“What if there’s a chance and I miss my chance to have someone?”
“Why this guy?”
“He made breakfast for dinner.” There’s more, but that’s what really touched me.
I check the phone’s signal—she’s still there.
“And?” she asks, like she was waiting for more.
“My dad used to do that twice a week.”
“Oh, Gem…”
One year ago, I lost my father to a massive heart attack. It took him fast—a widowmaker as they call it. I was there on vacation with him, but there was nothing I could do. Nothing. He was with me laughing as we filled the garden with plants and then he was gone. Every plant died, too.
He was already a widower of twenty years, so Mom was waiting for him on the other side. I was only seven when she passed. I only remember her as a shape in my life, not much else. But he assured me every day that she was special and that I was just like her, spunky and strong.
He was only fifty-one, and I can remember how he used to tell me to look for a man who would give me what I need, but understood the resilient woman I am.
And after I faced off with Bax in the kitchen, our bodies brushing as I got into his face, I went to the women’s bathroom and leaned back against the cold tile wall, my heart pounding like I’d run up and down the stairs a hundred times.
I could smell the sweet syrup on his lips. I could feel his hot breaths brushing my face. I could imagine those lips pressed to mine. Our breaths mingling.
But he needed to hear the truth. I have the abilities, but he let his ego and chivalrous side get in the way of acknowledging me as his equal. I could see the truth in his eyes. He hated what he’d done to me.
And then up on the deck…I told myself not to look into his eyes because I was sure if I did, I would find a future that I was petrified to see.
“He tried to help me at a fire,” I tell her.
“Oh, shit… I can’t imagine that went well for him.”
“I let him know what I don’t want from a coworker, that’s for sure.”
“But what do you want from him, Gem?” She sighs. “And don’t let my insane issues with men to cloud your future with one.”
“I think I want to see if he and I…if we might be something. But I’m scared.”
She chuckles. “Are you kidding me? The woman who has more saves than half the men in the department? The woman who runs into fire like she’s fireproof? The woman who stood up for herself to a veteran firefighter?”
“Wow, this person sounds pretty incredible.”
Velma laughs. “She is. But she’s also scared of a man not living up to the one who was the star of her life for twenty-six years.”
She hit the nail on the head. I can’t imagine any man being as wonderful and amazing as my father. He supported me in whatever I wanted. Whatever. And when I said I wanted to get a fire science degree and become a firefighter, with tears in his eyes he said he always imagined that I would help others, like my nurse mother.
“So what do I do?”
“You and him are off now?”
“For the next three days.”
“You get his number?”
“I might have asked the Lieutenant for it, acting that I need to ask him a question.”
“Then use it. Text or call him. Go to him and see what will happen. That’s the only way you’ll know if it’s real or not.”
“Okay, I’m going to do it.”
“Just be sure to call me and tell me everything.”
I laugh. “Not everything.”
“Please, let me live vicariously. Oh, and hey, what’s his name?”
“Baxter—”
“Mills?” she asks before I can tell her.
“Yes.”
“Damn, girl. He’s five-alarm!”
“I know.” I totally know, and I sign off.
I open my text app and start a text.
Gemma: Hey, it’s Gemma. I was wondering if you might want some company sometime?
Baxter: My address is 445 S Ravenwood. You are welcome any time.
Gemma: On my way.
Baxter: Door’s open.
I find the tri-level home in no time. He could probably walk to work.
The door is open. I let myself in.
He rounds from a doorway and I have to lean back against the doorjamb. His shirt is off and he’s covered in a hundred tiny splotches of paint.
He holds up the brushes. “I was painting.”
“I see that.”
“You want to see what I’m working on?”
My eyes slide over his body. Those abs, tight pockets of muscle clench as my gaze bounces over each one like they’re moguls on a double-black diamond slope. Swoosh-swoosh—swoosh.
“I’d love to.”
He turns so I can follow him. On the back end of the house he has set up several painters’ easels and on each there is a different painting. The first a landscape and it’s breathtaking, a hundred different colors that I would think would make it too busy, but he makes it work.
I step to the next. A picture of a black cat in yellow coat covered arms.
“I did that one today.”
“Is that the cat from Monday?”
“In your arms. I could tell how much that save meant to you.”
“Animals are family to people. They deserve the same respect and effort.”
He steps to the last one. It’s turned away. “And this one is…”
I step around and my body chills. “Wow.”
“You.” He holds up the paintbrush. “Help me paint, Gemma?”
I shake my head and back away. “I…I can’t paint.”
“I’ll help you.”
He moves me in front of him, one hand on my waist. His lips settle near my ear. “It’s all about pressure and speed. If you press hard, you’ll get a deeper groove. If you press less, you deposit more paint.”
“But what if I mess up?”
“That’s the thing with painting, you can just paint over it. Mistakes are just steppingstones to making a better painting. And in life, mistakes are just learning steppingstones for a better life.”
His bare chest presses into the back of my t-shirt. I can imagine he’s getting paint on it, but I don’t care.
I don’t care about anything, but how I’m feeling with his arms wrapped around me.
He guides my hand, making long and short strokes, refilling the brush when necessary. His breaths heat my neck.
I lean back into him.
“Can you feel that?” he asks.
I giggle. “What exactly?” I press my ass back and I can feel something. Something impressive.
His breathing quickens and the brush strokes quicken with it. He grabs more red paint and adds it to the top, dragging it down, curling it around as he goes. Each stroke looking like the waves of my hair.
His other hand reaches up and releases my hair from the hair tie.
“How long have you been painting?” I ask. This is impressive talent.
“Since my accident. Something…” I can hear him swallow. “Something clicked in my brain. It’s called acquired savant syndrome.”
“You never painted before?”
“Nope. Not one canvass and now I’ve painted over a hundred paintings. Most I donate to charities for silent auctions. I haven’t told anyone but my doctors, and they say to enjoy the new skill, but it’s a little hard to have a passion come on this suddenly.”
I’m definitely enjoying his passion.
He slows the strokes and his other hand tangles in the long strands of my hair and tilts my head.
His lips slip down the side of my neck while he still paints. He’s painting me with his mouth. His tongue does the same intricate moves as the brush. Twirling, swirling, and flicking across the canvass.
His hand stops. “Gemma…”
“Yeah…”
“I feel everything when I’m with you.”
I turn in his arms. “I know, me, too.” I reach up and run a finger down his face, depositing a haze of the light green that he used to color my eyes that’s on my finger tips. He brings the paintbrush toward me and I lift my T-shirt over my head, throwing it to the island.
Soon the brush is gliding over my skin like leaves on wind. He is a thunderstorm. He’s complicated, overwhelming, and…problematic. And I feel every moment like I’m stuck out in the middle of the pounding rain, lightning crashing and thunder vibrating my chest.
“Bax…”
He looks up from his creating, his eyes darkened to sapphire from the intensity.
“What, babe?”
“I want you.”
He puts down the paintbrush and tugs on my hand. As we pass by a large picture, the glass shows my reflection and I slide to a stop, making him jerk back. I just stand there.
He’s painted my body to look like a field of wildflowers, coating the sports bra. Tiny dots representing each stem and bloom.
“Why wildflowers?”
“Because I know you want to bloom. You’re beautiful like a flower and I want you to know that I see you. And I love what I see.”
I lean into him and his lips claim mine.
I’ve worried too much in my life about…almost everything… I only want to feel him tonight.
Chapter Five
Baxter
I reach down and cup her round buttcheeks in my hands, lifting her into the air.
“I can walk…”
I tighten my grip. “I know you can, but I want to carry you. Please, let me take care of you tonight. Let me show you how amazing we can be together. And most of all, let me show you how you can let go of having to be in control, Gem.”
I wait for her. Firefighters all have the same uncertainties, bravado, and need to exert their muscle and abilities. It’s learning to know when you need and don’t need them.
“Okay…I’ll let go.”
And with those words we’re headed down the hallway. My footsteps are sure. I would go to the ends of the earth to make this woman happy and feel appreciated.
I set her feet to the floor and she looks around. My stomach clenches. I didn’t remember that every wall is covered with paintings.
“Is it too creepy? I could take them down.” My eyes scan the walls with trepidation and I back away from her.
She walks the room slowly. “It’s…amazing. It’s like being in a museum. It’s inspiring and energizing. I can’t imagine what it’s like to wake up one day as someone else with new talents.”
“Actually, it’s rough. I’ve never felt so alone. I didn’t even know me anymore, but I kept seeing myself on the TV getting thrown, and I feel like I have to prove that I’m still the firefighter I once was. But Gemma, I’m not. I’m different. I have the skills, but I don’t have…the desire.”
“But you haven’t told anyone?”
“It’s too hard to explain without sounding like I’m doing something wrong and that’s even worse.”
She stops in front of a painting that’s grays and blues all intermingled. “I love this one. It looks like your eyes.”
“I paint what I’m feeling and I was feeling confused when I painted that. It’s one of the first.”
“It’s beautiful.” She turns to face me and runs a hand down my face. “Like you, Bax.”
“I might be confused about why I have to paint, but I’ll never be confused about wanting you, Gem.”
I back her to the wall, moving her hands above her head and hold them in one of mine, while I move her hair with the other. We’re going to mess up that painting on her skin, but I can recreate the beauty…and more.
My lips slide along her jawline and she rolls her head to the side, giving me better access, and when my lips meet her collarbone, her chest rises and falls quickly, goosebumps pimpling her skin while honeyed whimpers float from her parted lips.
Her hands explore my bare chest and down to my tense stomach. I separate her thighs with my leg and she grinds against my leg.
Her gaze comes up, hot and sultry. “I’ve only had sex a few times
.”
“I promise, we’ll go slow.”
Hot pants come from her mouth. “But that’s the thing…I think we’re meant to go fast, Bax. I swear, I’m so close already. Just thinking about your hard cock…inside me…it’s…” She quakes on every word. “It’s like my body knows it needs you.”
“I need you, too, babe.”
I reach to her pants and finish undressing her. She lifts her sports bra over her head and I think my eyes pop out of my head.
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah, that’s basically a compression garment.”
They’re round and massive.
“That can’t feel good to wear all the time?”
“Protection. Female firefighters have to do things different than males.”
She’s so matter-of-fact about it, but it ignites me.
“But…”
Her hand grabs mine. “Sometimes things are just the way they are and we have to learn to continue despite the obstacles.”
My heart soars. She truly gets me. When I got her text, I thought about hiding every one of the paintings, but I wanted to show her. I wanted her to see the real me.
“Fuck. I can’t believe how lucky I am.”
She runs her hands lower on my body, until she’s grasping my cock. Her hand rocks back and forth with a pressure that’s perfect.
“Condoms are in the drawer,” I say as my nuts tighten painfully, but I push the immediacy of a release down. The woman makes my body a flash fire of desire.
“I’m clean,” she offers. “And I’m covered, but if you want to wear one, I’ll understand.”
“I trust you.”
Her face beams. “And I trust you, too.”
The moonlight filters through a crack in the blinds. I reach over and turn on a nightstand lamp. The room lights with a sultry caramel glow, warming her cherubic face.
We climb into bed, her body slinking across the sheets.
She reaches out and I slide closer to her and she meets me in the middle. Our naked bodies press, hard to soft. Her peaked nipples brush against my chest and I groan at the sensation.
I tease for entry into her mouth. Our tongues roll and float against each other’s.
Her hand rocks up and down my cock.