Emerging Temptation: A BWWM Romance Limited Edition Collection

by Peyton Banks

  I froze.

  Anthony on the other hand, kept licking away, completely engrossed in giving me horrible head. My phone continued to ring away.

  Pushing him away and ignoring my vagina’s cries of relief, I leapt off the bed and ran over to the dresser. One glance at the screen and my heart rate tripled. AFD, which was short for the Amarillo Fire Department, flashed on the screen. I couldn’t swipe to answer fast enough.

  “Hello?”

  “Todd!” a naturally loud voice barked.

  Although my fire battalion lieutenant wasn’t in the room with me, my posture promptly straightened.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Listen, I know it’s your day off, but we’ve got a rager on our hands…”

  A ‘rager,’ as we at the Amarillo Fire Department called it, was a wildfire that had the statistical potential to spread throughout the entire city if it wasn’t put out within the first sixty to ninety minutes.

  Lieutenant Waters continued, “We need all hands on de—” Before he could finish his sentence, I was already shimmying into my panties.

  “I’ll be at the station in eight and a half minutes, sir.”

  He chuckled at my approximation.

  “See you in seven,” he countered before hanging up.

  My competitive nature kicked in and with almost superhuman speed, I pulled on a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a t-shirt. It wasn’t until I got to my bedroom door and heard Anthony’s shocked gasp, that I even remembered he was here. A wave of awkwardness washed over me as I slowly turned around.

  “You-you’re leaving?” Anthony asked, disbelief ringing loud and clear in his voice.

  He was a pitiful sight, with only one shoe on and a tent-pole erection raging in his jeans and still kneeling at the foot of my bed, where he’d been while attempting to do something that was only meant for grown-ass men.

  “Um…yeah. Duty calls.”

  Confusion clouded his eyes and for half a second I relished how handsome he was. Long black hair that had started out the night in a low ponytail, but was now loose. Piercing green eyes. Pouty lips that I just knew would be spectacular at eating a peach.

  “What kind of duty is so important you need to run out of your own house on me?”

  I rolled my eyes, looking up at the ceiling and shaking my head. I so didn’t have time for this bullshit. The clock was ticking and lives were at stake.

  “A duty to go put out a wildfire that could literally burn the entire city of Amarillo to a goddamn crisp! Now get your clothes on, see yourself out, and lock up my house behind you!”

  Without sparing him another glance, I turned and left.

  Over the years, I’d no doubt suited up hundreds of times. And still, the adrenaline rush that coursed through my veins as I pulled on my ‘bunker gear’ was a high unlike any other. First, was my Under Armor long-sleeved shirt and leggings. I particularly liked that although the material was spandex, fitting my body like another layer of skin, it wasn’t suppressing, to the point where my range of motion was limited. Then, my trousers and yes, they had the suspenders that all the male strippers emulating firefighters loved doing naughty things with. Next, were my boots; black, thick, and sturdy. And finally, my turnout coat. It looked thick and heavy, but in reality it was light as a pillow.

  Dressed, I sprinted out of the station and joined my brothers in the ‘jump seat’ area of the truck. Contrary to popular belief, most firefighters didn’t ride on the exterior back of the truck. The Amarillo Fire Department had all new trucks, ones without the antiquated tailboards that were needed for a man or woman to stand on. Each truck could hold up to eight-person crew. In the ‘front seat’ area sat our Lieutenant—Reg—and of course the driver engineer—Allen— with the remaining six members of the squad sitting in the jump seat.

  As we drove, the wail of the fire siren faded into the background because I was just so used it. I was also used to driving at 65mph or more when responding to an emergency.

  “Where we headed?” I asked Layne, a veteran wildlife firefighter. Layne had been with our battalion since I was in high school and instead of climbing the ranks, he was content to be right here on the frontline with the ‘young uns’ as he called us.

  Layne gave me a funny look; a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

  “I was off today,” I replied, my explanation for not being up to speed.

  He nodded to himself. “I thought it was a little too quiet around the firehouse today and now I know why.”

  I feigned annoyance, rolling my eyes. I was the only woman at the station and acted just as rowdy as all the men—no more, no less.

  “But to answer your question, we’re headed to the Panhandle, specifically the Murphy Ranch.”

  Every muscle in my body tensed. The Murphy Ranch bordered the edge of the northern point of the state and was a whopping six hundred and sixteen acres in size. A wildfire there had the potential to literally burn down everything in its path. It’d be like a domino effect, starting at the tip of Texas and spreading to everything below in mere hours.

  Layne and I shared a look, letting me know we were both on the same page in regards to the severity of this fire.

  In what felt like record time, we arrived at the Murphy Ranch. The Panhandle of Texas was given its name due to the straight and narrow shape of this part of the state, which flared out to a broad and wider range below, making it look like the handle of a pan.

  I leapt out of the truck, shifting into work mode. My eyes scanned the landscape. Despite the flat, grassy plains that rolled on for miles and miles, I easily spotted the wispy, black clouds along the otherwise picture-perfect horizon. Judging by the amount of smoke permeating the air, it wasn’t a very big fire—for now—and it was our job to keep it that way.

  “Allen, see if you can get the rig closer to the point of origin,” the lieutenant instructed our driver. “We don’t want to run out of hose!”

  The seven of us quickly moved out of the trucks path as it promptly sprang forward.

  “Lewis, Todd!” Lieutenant, barked, causing me to jump to attention. “Do a wide perimeter lap around the fire, and make sure it’s all clear. As always, be sure to administer EMT on-sight, if needed and radio in for an ambulance.”

  Having been given our marching orders, me and Tyrone Lewis took off towards the smoke. When I first became a firefighter, it was nearly impossible for me to jog, let alone run while bearing forty five pounds of personal protection equipment, commonly referred to as PPE. Now it was nothing. I was no Usain Bolt, but at almost thirty years old, I could outrun most teenagers—while wearing all my gear.

  The soft grass gave way to mud beneath my boots as I sprinted across the plain. Ordinary people ran away from a fire, it was my job, my honor to run toward it.

  When we were a few hundred feet from the suspected point of origin, Tyrone and I split up, with him veering left and me right.

  My keen eyes darted left to right, right to left as I swept the area. Clouds of smoke billowed all around me, but thanks to my full-face breathing mask, my eyes and lungs weren’t affected. So far, everything was all clear, with not a person in sight. Way out here, away from the actual farming area, I didn’t think there would be anyone, but better safe than sorry.

  Though I was full on running, while wearing heavy gear, my heart beat was perfectly normal. My breathing firmly under control. I wasn’t so much as sweating. This was what one could call mastering their craft.

  Static crackled in my ear, right before Lieutenant Waters’ voice broke through.

  “Lewis, Todd. How’s that perimeter looking out there?”

  Lewis beat me to the punch, answering, “All clear on the western side of the ranch, sir. Not a civilian in sight.”

  “Now, that’s what I like to hear.”

  I was temporarily distracted by their conversation, which is why I didn’t see it until it was nearly too late.

  “Oh, shit!” I exclaimed, digging my heels into the soft, muddy grass a
nd skidding to a stop right before I collided with the animal.

  “Todd! You okay out there?” my lieutenant asked, worry in his voice.

  I blinked rapidly, still trying to get over the shock of seeing a cow out this far on the ranch, and within feet of an active fire at that.

  “I’m fine, sir,” I answered. “No civilians on eastern side of the ranch, but we’ve got a cow out here.”

  “A...cow?” he repeated, amusement replacing the worry that had been there mere seconds ago.

  I nodded, though he couldn’t see me, and examined the animal further. He or she was on the hefty side, which told me it was likely next up on the butcher’s block.

  “Yes, sir,” I belatedly replied. “It’s a shorthorn cow, judging by the spots all over its body.”

  Lieutenant Waters chuckled. “A shorthorn, huh. Listen to you, Todd. You sure you weren’t born here in the Lone Star state?”

  “Very sure, sir. I’m from Pittsburgh. You know—”

  “Yeah, yeah, we know. Home of the first football team to ever win six Super Bowl championships,” Lewis interjected in a dry voice. “Blah, blah, blah. We get it.”

  I chuckled. Guess I said that a little too much.

  “Todd, get that cow as far away from the fire origin as possible. We’re breaking out the hoses now and we don’t need that animal anywhere near that much water pressure!”

  “Yes, sir,” I replied, sounding far more confident than I felt at the prospect of herding a cow away from a fire. I was so not an animal person. But, like I said, sometimes the job wasn’t always racing headfirst into a burning building. Sometimes it was blocking off the scene of a really bad car accident, or going to talk to a group of elementary students about fire safety at home. Today, today it was cow herding.

  2

  Karmena

  It took a little over an hour to get the fire at the Murphy Ranch to a non-threatening level. Then, hours more after that before we got it out altogether. Not to mention, we had to parlay with the police department when they arrived, and loop them in for reporting purposes.

  When it was all said and done, the Murphy family now had a charred hole the size of three above-ground pools on their ranch, but at least they still had their ranch.

  Back at the firehouse, I took a long, leisurely shower—a perk of having my own personal bathroom, which was a perk of being the only female firefighter in the department.

  The water turned black at my feet as it rinsed away layer after layer of soot. Once the fire was fully out, we’d taken our breathing masks off so as not to deplete the oxygen tanks, and soot had rained down on us like a blizzard.

  No matter how many times I shampooed my hair, I could still smell the pungent stench of smoke in it. Oh, well. It was a scent I was used to, my own personal brand of perfume if you will.

  I finished up in the shower and changed back into the clothes I’d worn in, minus the panties. In my haste, I’d forgotten to grab my backpack, which held all of my work staples.

  Distantly, I wondered if Anthony had locked up behind him, like I’d asked. The sad truth of the matter was that I didn’t even have his number to call and ask.

  Sighing, I gathered up my things and exited the bathroom. As soon as I stepped into the hall, the lieutenant, who was walking by, said, “Hey, just the person I want to see.”

  “Me?”

  He nodded. Lieutenant Reginald Waters was an ex-Navy SEAL and looked every bit the part. In his early fifties, he was in excellent physical shape, often beating the obstacle course times of guys half his age.

  “Meet me in my office in five.” He walked off, posture rigid, arms firmly in place at his side.

  What the hell does he want?

  I hurried to the bunker and deposited my things on the cot I’d unofficially claimed as mine, then speed-walked to the front of the fire station where my lieutenants office was located. The door was open, as always, but I still knocked.

  “Get on in here, Todd!” Despite his loud, bark of a voice, he wore a welcoming smile as he added, “And close that door behind you.”

  I swallowed, doing as I was told before sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the messy desk.

  “What’s the deali-o?” I asked, making light of my nervousness.

  Instead of answering right away, he kept quiet as he rifled through a stack of manila folders.

  “Ah! Here it is,” he muttered, withdrawing a thin folder and holding it out to me.

  My brows furrowed as I hesitantly accepted it. Fear got the best of me, and I began to wonder: Was I being given my walking papers?

  I fought to keep my facial expression neutral, but my trembling voice gave me away. “W-what’s going on, Lieutenant Waters?”

  He clapped his hands together excitedly. In all the years I’d worked for Reg, I don’t ever recall seeing him look this giddy, not even when our battalion won an award.

  “I finally got you in at a station in Pittsburgh!” he revealed. “Now, it’s not quite a transfer, meaning you’ll lose your years of service ranking that you have with AFD, but it gets you home to your family like you wanted.”

  Words...thoughts...feelings escaped me and for a full sixty seconds, I just sat there.

  A slow smile spread across my face.

  Texas had been my home for many years, but now I was going back to my true home, which was my family.

  I was going home.

  “And,” Lieutenant Waters continued, opening a desk drawer and rummaging around inside it, “I’m sending you on your way with this.”

  This time there was no hesitation as I accepted the standard-sized envelope. Inside, I pulled out a quality piece of parchment, unfolding it and finding the official Amarillo Fire Department crest emblazoned at the top.

  “A letter of recommendation…?” My eyes darted up to meet his. “I-I don’t even know what to say, Lieutenant Waters.”

  He winked and shook his head.

  “You don’t have to say anything, Todd,” he assured me. “Besides, it’s the least I could do in return for all your years of service. You’ve been one hell of a firefighter to us here at the AFD, now go show Pittsburgh what Amarillo taught ya!”

  Thanking him profusely, we shook hands and I left the office, still in a state of awe.

  3

  Karmena

  As my Uber drove us out of the Liberty tunnels and the downtown Pittsburgh skyline loomed into view, my heart soared.

  The familiar sight of yellow bridges and skyscrapers brought back a flood of memories, along with a nostalgic smile.

  I was home.

  Two years ago, I would have balked at the thought of moving back here. When you leave, you leave for a reason. My reason was simple: there were zero jobs for females in the firefighting industry at that time. When I graduated from the University of Pittsburgh, then the fire academy, there was nowhere for me to work. I would never feel bad about leaving. I wouldn’t have been able to jumpstart my career otherwise.

  But a few months ago, when I’d gotten a call from Miss Sugar, my uncle Leeland’s neighbor, saying that he was getting worse, there was no question that I had to move back to Pittsburgh. My uncle had raised me since I was three. I owed him everything. E-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g.

  We hit a bit of traffic on I-376 East, so I didn’t arrive in West Milton, until an hour later than originally planned. Even still, as soon as the car rolled to a stop in front of the aging colonial house that I grew up in, I spotted a familiar face waiting for me on the porch.

  The years had been kind to uncle Leeland…at least to his body. At seventy six, he still stood tall at 6’3 without a slouch in his stance. Maybe that came from a forty-year career in the military. Maybe it was genetics. He was still broad-shouldered and fit—save for the small potbelly that had formed over the last few years.

  Flinging the door open, I jumped out of the car and scaled the porch steps within seconds.

  “Baby girl!”

  “Uncle Leeland!”

  W
e embraced, holding one another tightly and rocking back and forth. I buried my nose against his chest, inhaling deeply. The familiar scent of Irish Spring soap and Old Spice cologne filled my nostrils. I chuckled. The man was a true creature of habit, which was why for every Father’s Day and Christmas, I always knew just what to get him.

  It wasn’t until the Uber driver walked up on the porch and sat the larger of my two cases down beside us, that we broke apart.

  “Oh, sorry,” I said sheepishly, embarrassed that I’d left him to carry my belongings all by his lonesome. “Let me help you with the rest.”

  “Ah, ah, ah, baby girl,” Uncle Leeland admonished. “Don’t you touch that luggage. I’ll take care of it. You go on in there and wash up and get something to eat. Miss Sugar sent over some lasagna and it is the bomb.com!”

  Snickering at his attempt to use ‘hip’ slang, I headed into the house, stomach grumbling. Miss Sugar’s cooking was indeed the bomb.com, so I knew I was in for a treat.

  Later that night, Uncle Lee and I sat in the living room, watching an old Wyatt Earp movie that was a favorite of his. We were on the long couch, sharing an old crochet blanket that my aunt—his late wife—had made when I was in grade school.

  I smiled, fingering the material and remembering when aunt Ida had tried to teach me to crochet, but swiftly lost patience when she realized that I preferred to play cops and robbers with all my boy cousins instead.

  “Hey, Uncle Lee. Do you still have Aunt Ida’s crocheting stuff?”

  I pulled my eyes away from the TV to look at him. A few seconds passed and he still stared intently at the television, as if he hadn’t heard a word I’d said.

  “Uncle Lee, did you hear me?”

  He jumped, appearing startled, and looked at me.

  “What was that you said, baby girl?”

  “I asked if you still had any of Aunt Ida’s crocheting tools? I was thinking of trying my hand at making something on my off days.”