“You do what everyone else does. Pick yourself up, binge-watch Netflix, and then make something else work.” Her cheek hollowed as she bit the inside of it. “When Brian and I broke up, I thought I’d never date again. I thought he was it for me, ya know?”
Erin nodded. Sloane hadn’t talked about Brian in more than a year. They’d dated from Erin’s freshman year of college up until last year when Sloane had found him in bed with another woman.
“Well, I’m sick of spending my Friday nights with Jane the Virgin.”
“Does that mean you found someone?”
“Not yet. I joined one of those dating apps.”
Erin raised a brow. “You mean the ones where you have to swipe left or right? Or the kind with the sappy bios that sound like an erectile-dysfunction commercial?” she asked.
“Swiping. I wasn’t about to spend thirty minutes on a bio no one reads.” Sloane flicked a crumb at Erin. “And for your information, I have a blind date set up next week.”
“Just have mace ready in case he’s a total creep.”
“Girl, you’re getting a call if that happens.” She took another bite of scone, talking with her mouth full. “How was the wedding?”
“Eventful.” Flashes of Jake’s fingers sliding up her thigh had her sputtering on her coffee.
“Does this mean you’ve finally bagged the illustrious Jake Bennett?”
Erin flung her sugar packet at Sloane. “It’s not like that. We’ve been friends for so long, I honestly don’t think he’d ever see me that way.” Even if there were flashes. “It’s probably for the best anyway.” At least that was what she was telling herself. “Now if only there’d be some damn job openings.”
“Seriously, why don’t you look here? I know Portland is such a horrible place to live”—sarcasm dripped off her words—“but I’d love to have my best friend back.”
“I’m not meant for Portland life. I need the sun and to be a couple of hours from nice, warm beaches.” The beaches in San Francisco were a lot like the Oregon coast. She wasn’t going to step foot in there without a wet suit. But from Santa Cruz south, she’d lie out and enjoy the white sand and the sun’s rays.
“What is this sun you speak of?”
“Your vitamin-D deficiency has clouded your judgment.” She looked down at the coffee. “Plus, I applied to a school the other day that could be the one. It’s a prep school, downtown in the city. I looked at their website, and it seems like a really good fit. If they decide to interview me.”
Sloane eyed her over her coffee cup. “This is a job and not an arranged marriage, right?”
“Shut it.” There was nothing wrong with taking job prospects seriously. She had to if she wanted her damn apartment back.
“I’m just saying you could get a teaching job anywhere.”
“Not anywhere. Just the state of California, unless I wanted to drop a ton of money on licensure tests.”
Sure, she could pay the extra money, but what would be the point? She didn’t want to live here. Not that she didn’t love her mom, but Erin had been independent for years. Her mom had finally taken the hint that she was somewhat proficient in adulting. Mostly. The occasional “Here’s a few twenties to pad your bank account” came in the mail, sure, but she stashed the money away in a rainy-day fund.
“I’m sure your mom is in mourning.”
“She’s come to terms.” Although, by the way she had decorated her room . . . maybe not so much.
Madison slid in moments later, tossing her purse over Erin to the spot between her and the wall.
“What did I miss?” Her red curls were piled in frizzy disarray on top of her head. Madison was the embodiment of boho chic. She’d been wearing peasant tops and flowy skirts long before they had come in style, and she was the type who would keep wearing them, even when the fad wore off. “I just had one hell of a shoot at the waterfront. Caught the perfect window of the sunrise.”
Madison had started her own photography business three years ago, and just last year she had been named the top wedding photographer in Portland.
The three of them had been friends ever since kindergarten. They met up at least twice a year to rent a house on Lake Tahoe. Social media, group texting, and Skype dates were an essential part of their friendship.
“Just the fact that Erin still vehemently denies her Portland heritage,” Sloane said.
“Do not.” Okay, that was exactly what she was doing. She really liked that she was a three-hour flight away.
“I want to hear about the wedding,” Madison said. “We barely got to talk last night.”
Thoughts of Jake’s hands flickered in Erin’s mind. “It was pretty. Josie made a beautiful bride.”
Sloane snapped her fingers. “Details, woman. You gave us nothing at the party. What’s the deal with Jake?”
“Yeah, why was he so spooked at the party?” Madison chimed in, stealing a piece of bagel off Sloane’s plate and plopping it into her mouth.
What was this? Interrogation hour?
“Ugh. Can we not mention that?” Her face fell in her hands, and she let out a sigh. “It was the most awkward situation ever.” Maybe she was destined to use a dating service. She couldn’t even get the proper reaction out of a man she was trying to bed. Jesus, did people even talk like that? Maybe she needed more help than she thought.
“Because you guys hooked up?” Sloane asked.
“No!”
“Liar.”
“Why does everyone think I’m lying?”
“Because Jake is . . . well, Jake, and you look like you walked off the set of The O.C.”
“I can’t tell if you’re saying my style is outdated or if I should take that as a compliment.”
Madison shrugged. “You could stand to lose the cardigans.”
“Seriously, why does everyone hate on the cardigans so much?”
“Because you’re twenty-eight, not eighty.” Madison tore off a piece of Erin’s scone and plopped it in her mouth. “So back to Jake. What happened?”
“I don’t know. I thought we were getting somewhere, and then—” She waved her hand and sighed. “Then I was me, and things got weird.” She decided to leave out the awkward porn station.
“Are you going to see him again?”
After their cringe-worthy encounter last night? Seeing him again was at a firm 0 percent. “Probably not. It’s for the best anyway. I’m leaving in a few weeks.”
Madison frowned. “Don’t remind us. I want to be in my delusional bubble that you’re staying forever.”
“I say you call him. He’s obviously into you. Why not capitalize on that while you have the chance?” Sloane said.
“And say what?” She brought her fingers up to her ear, miming a telephone. “Hey, Jake, so nice chatting with you. I know you said you didn’t want to see me again, but would you like to bone me in my old bedroom right down the hall from my mom’s room?”
Sloane placed her hand over Erin’s. “Honey, we might need an intervention on your flirting skills if that’s all you got.”
“I know how to flirt.” She flicked a crumb at Sloane. Normally when it came to men, this wouldn’t be an issue—whether it was because she didn’t have time for dating or the fact that she didn’t feel the ticking time clock that her mom so often brought up. She was happy being single. She’d had a few long-term relationships since college, but Erin always found some glaring issue.
“Yeah, we know. It’s landed you Tom the Tax Man and Drinking Fountain Dude.”
“Can’t forget Taco Bell Dude.”
“In-N-Out,” Erin corrected.
“Whatever. Just as bad. You don’t make someone pay for their meal on their birthday,” Sloane said.
So what if a couple of her previous boyfriends had either zero humor or an irrational fear of public drinking fountains? Everyone had issues. Hers came in the form of planner stickers and washi tape. And spiral notebooks. Her office-supply love was strong.
“In-N-
Out guy aside, Tom had really nice calves. He went mountain biking on the weekends. And we all know that drinking fountains are gross.”
They both looked at her.
She groaned. Since when did she advocate for complete duds? “Oh God, I totally suck at dating.”
“I mean, you could say your house is on fire, and you need a big, strong firefighter to help put it out,” Sloane suggested.
Erin snorted. “Yeah, somehow I don’t think that’d work.” Knowing her luck, the whole fire department would be knocking down her door. On second thought, that wasn’t a half-bad idea . . .
“Don’t listen to Sloane,” Madison said. “Why don’t you just text him to hang out?”
“You guys were at the same party as me, right? The one where he said it’d be best to stay away from me and left within five minutes of being there?”
“I don’t know. Some guys are clueless.”
But Jake wasn’t clueless. He’d been straightforward in explaining that he felt awkward around her and didn’t want to ruin his friendship with Reece. And she wasn’t going to come between a bromance. Time to turn this interrogation in another direction.
“Well, Sloane’s going on a blind date.” Bomb dropped. And now the attention could be taken off her for a millisecond.
Madison’s head reared back as she regarded Sloane. “It isn’t from that hookup app, is it?”
“You act like this isn’t the twenty-first century. I’m allowed to be okay with hookups.”
“Yeah, but you really want to pick from the general pool of guys who send unsolicited dick pics?” Erin asked.
“I’m one dick pic away from giving up men completely,” Madison said.
“Preach.” Maybe once she moved back to California, she’d find a nice guy there. Someone like Jake.
Chapter Twelve
Jake shuffled the deck of cards and stared at the men sitting around the table in the break room. It felt good to be back on duty after five days away. If there was one thing Jake loved, besides his daughter, it was his job. Nothing beat a good shift, and every day was a new challenge. They’d just finished checking the gear on the truck, placing their turnouts near the apparatus, and had spent the last thirty minutes brushing up on a page out of the EMT protocol book.
“Twos and sevens are wild. Pennets count as eighty points today.” A Pennet, which was a four of a kind named after the highest honored firefighter at Station 11 in the past sixty years, was the most sought-after card hand in their morning game of rummy. A hand of cards served as a chore divider. Specifically, whoever had the worst cards got stuck with duties such as cooking dinner and cleaning toilets. Jake had managed to avoid bathroom duty for the past three shifts.
“I got a question for you,” Reece said.
“That’s a statement, dipshit,” said Hollywood, staring at his cards.
“If you’d let me finish, I’d get to my question,” Reece said.
“Well, go on.” Hollywood waved his hand dramatically. “Don’t let me get in the way.”
“You know Yanni?”
“The keyboardist?” Hollywood asked.
“Jesus, dude, you’re like twelve. How do you even know who that is?”
Hollywood just chuckled. “I’m a cultured man, asshole.”
“Sure you are. Maybe once you graduate from a pacifier.” Reece shook his head and smiled. “Anyway, I’m talking about Yanni who used to work at the district office. The one who chewed through toothpicks like he was a damn beaver.”
“Oh yeah, I remember him.”
“He sold his Jeep.” Reece’s brows furrowed. If the man was serious about one thing, it was cars.
Reece had been obsessed with Jeeps ever since they were kids. Even had a pic of one in his locker in high school. Jake bet if he peeked into this locker at the station, he’d see one pasted there, too.
“Let me guess—he didn’t sell it to you,” Jake said. Yanni didn’t come across as the type that valued camaraderie. He was a mopey dude who liked to keep to himself. Jake was starting to understand how the guy felt. After the way Erin’s homecoming party had gone, his mood was somewhere between general annoyance and wanting to punch himself in the face. Instead of telling her the truth about how he couldn’t keep her out of his mind, he had let her believe that he thought that weekend was a mistake.
“No. The asshole sold it to a stranger. Who probably won’t give the proper attention to that gorgeous specimen,” Reece said.
Hollywood let out a snort. “We are talking about a car, right?”
“It’s a lifestyle, Hollywood.”
“Right.” He laid out a three of a kind and four hearts. “Can’t you just buy your own Jeep?”
Jake tried to focus on the conversation, but his mind kept wandering back to Erin. Her laugh. The way her lips pulled over that mouth he so desperately wanted to kiss last weekend. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t get her out of his head. And with Bailey gone at camp, and the house too empty, he prowled around it like a caged tiger, willing thoughts of Erin to vanish from his mind. Instead, he’d used his hand in the shower, needing release like he was a goddamn teenager again.
“That’s not the point. He knew I wanted it. Aw, shit.” Reece threw down a crap pair of twos.
“Should know better than to trust a guy who hangs tiny air fresheners in his cubicle,” Jake added, realizing he hadn’t been interacting at all with his men.
“He speaks! And here I thought you’d gone mute today. What’s up with you?” Hollywood asked.
“Nothing.” But Jake couldn’t stop thinking about the frown that had cut across Erin’s face yesterday, the instant stab to his gut when he realized he was the one who put it there. This was a mistake. Let’s pretend it never happened.
What was wrong with him? On most days, he claimed to be a smart guy. He’d done a bang-up job fighting the attraction all weekend. He was the first to admit that. But he had somehow managed to get through it mostly unscathed. And yet, he couldn’t let it go. The damn blood humming in his veins pulsed at the very thought of when he’d get to see her again. Which, if he was smart, would be never.
“Here, take a brownie. Lexi made them.” Hollywood shoved the plate of baked goods across the table.
Lexi was Hollywood’s sister. She was a nursing student at the university in town and loved to bring over baked goods for the guys. He glanced at the plate full of brownies, GOODIES FROM YOUR FAVORITE NURSE scrawled in her curly handwriting in Sharpie.
“Your sister is too good to us.”
“Sure as shit, she is.”
He snagged one and took a bite, then took a card from the top of the pile. He’d throw down his cards in the death round.
The guys gave him a funny look when he didn’t throw down his cards but continued playing, the turn going to Reece.
He threw down a Pennet and two hearts. “Looks like Jake is on bathroom duty today.”
“What? We have the death round still.”
Both of them gawked at him. Reece said, “Brother. We were just in the death round. Where’s your head today?”
Not here, apparently. No, it had been on Erin’s lips. The way her dress hugged every curve. How he was going out of his goddamn mind.
“Well, hell.” He slammed his cards on the table and shoved another piece of brownie in his mouth. He needed to cool it, especially since he was at work.
The other guys laughed. “Looks like you’re on dinner duty, Hollywood.”
“Again?” he groaned.
Reece slid his cards across the table toward him. “Remember, we put out fires, not start them. No more grill use for you.”
“It was one time.”
Just then, the tones went off. They all shoved back from the table, their good-natured joking sliding off them like a discarded shirt as they made their way to the apparatus and into their boots and pants. This one was a medical call, so they wouldn’t need to put on their full turnout gear, just their Class Bs. Jake hopped into the passenger s
eat in the engine and scanned the computer mounted to the dash.
Medical call. Thirty-two-year-old man who needed immediate attention. The dispatcher couldn’t get a reason out of him of what exactly was hurt, which either meant the guy was on some type of drugs or hiding something. Nothing good ever came from a patient refusing to divulge information.
They parked the engine in front of the dilapidated apartment complex, and Jake took a quick scan of his surroundings. A few people roamed down the sidewalk toward the far end of the complex. Nothing suspicious. He hopped out of the engine and grabbed the monitor and med box, while Hollywood grabbed the air kit.
They ran up the three flights to apartment 341. There was no need to knock on the door because it was already wide open.
Normally, if there was any form of threat, they’d wait for the police to clear the area and then proceed. Jake guessed he and Reece had come to the same conclusion that there was no immediate threat.
“Hello?” Jake called out.
A faint “Help me” echoed back at him.
They looked at each other and nodded in silent deliberation, all three moving forward.
Stale pizza boxes, takeout containers, and trash littered the floor. Hollywood was the paramedic on their shift, even though they were all technically EMT trained. He moved forward first, his boots shuffling through the deluge of discarded items.
“In here,” cried the person.
They waded through the hallway and into the equally trashed living room. Some sort of racing game was on the big screen, and a guy was sunken into the couch, wielding a controller.
“What’s your name, sir?” Hollywood asked. He may have been a jokester at the station and prone to being a big flirt at public events, but he was a damn good firefighter and took his job seriously. Someone Jake would want by his side fighting a box alarm fire.
Jake scanned the room. No potential threats. If the guy pulled a knife or a gun, he had two choices. Either he was taking his crew out the sliding glass door on this third-story balcony or he was tackling the guy. As of right now, the guy looked drugged out of his mind, so he didn’t look like he posed too much of a threat.
Burning Up (Flirting With Fire Book 1) Page 12