“Why don’t we go in and inspect the building while we’re here,” I suggested, to avoid the stares on us right now. “Dot the I’s and all that.”
“Hannigan can sulk in the truck,” Dooley said, taking the lead toward the front of the building.
August stepped in line with me, and I made sure to not-accidentally bump elbows with him. He glanced up, an unguarded grin on his gorgeous face that knocked the breath from me. His long lashes, his sprinkling of a few dark freckles despite his tanned skin, and his dimples made my heart race.
“What was in your text?” I asked as we walked in time with each other, and I tried to ignore the stares of his two coworkers behind us. If gossip flew here like it did at the firehouse, they’d be grilling him before we left.
“Ethan was my last client before all this nonsense,” he said, waving his hand around to gesture at the fire alarm still blaring. The sound was familiar for me at this point, fading to background noise. I especially didn’t mind when the emergency call ended up being a non-emergency. Knowing August was safe calmed me, and the severity of my reaction delivered some stronger truths than I was ready to navigate.
Like the fact I really wanted to date him.
“Ethan?” I asked, following Dooley to the back where the alarm was. “One second. We’ll turn this off so we can discuss.”
I stepped up next to Dooley, and we shut off the fire alarm, then checked around the area for any signs of smoke or fire that might’ve gone undetected. Sure, fire alarms could be triggered for stupid reasons, but occasionally they went off for otherreasons, and I didn’t want to put anyone here at risk due to distracted negligence. The routine calmed me like nothing else.
“All clear,” Dooley said, then glanced to Owen. “Mind if I take a look at the art you’ve got up front?” He passed me a wink, and gratitude soaked through me. Clearly, he was giving me and August a second to catch up.
Dooley, Owen, and Nyx headed up to the front, leaving August and me in the back room.
The air crackled with tension between us.
Fuck it.
I closed the distance between us and slammed my lips to his. I drank August in like fresh, cool water after a three-alarm fire. The relief that rushed through me, fast and furious, was telling of how far gone I was for this man. The way he melted against me, how he met me with the same intensity I’d craved. August was everything I never thought I’d find, and I hated the circumstances on how we met.
That he was my sister’s ex-boyfriend.
That didn’t stop me from wanting him, body and soul.
I wove my fingers through his hair, our bodies slamming together—at least as much as they could in my turnout gear. Fuck, he was so pliable, so sweet, so addictive. August let out a low moan, the vibration reverberating through me. For the short time since we’d gotten the call, I’d been worried as fuck, and if anything, that cemented these feelings for him weren’t just sprouting to wither—no, they were taking root.
My heart rate slowed as our kisses grew less desperate, and I savored the taste of him, the plushness of his lips. Except I was on the clock, and guaranteed Hannigan was sitting in the truck ready to pitch a fit. I pulled away from him, a sigh escaping me.
“Sorry if I crossed any lines with coworkers,” I offered. “Wasn’t sure how to handle the situation.”
August snorted. “Me neither, so concert buddies works for me. They’re a nosy bunch.”
“What were you going to tell me earlier?”
August’s face burst into a huge smile, radiant like the dawn. “Spring Fires is in. Ethan was my last client, and not only did he speak for the band there, but he said he had a personal reason for wanting to support the firehouse.”
I blinked at August. “No shit, really?” Excitement trickled through me, and I wrapped my hands around his hips and lifted him up. My lips found him again before I settled him on his feet again.
“Well, damn, that was hot,” August said, fanning himself. “We’re the same size.”
I shrugged. “We’ve got to be physically ready for the job. Why, you want me to lift you up some other time?” My voice lowered with intent, and August’s nostrils flared.
“Fuck yes, please,” he said. “I’d probably paint the wall with jizz.”
A bright laugh burst out of me, ones that came easily around him. “Thank you for asking him. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to,” August said. “You’re passionate about this, and I want to see if the concert fundraiser trumps spaghetti dinner.”
My heart squeezed tightly. He offered his support as if that wasn’t a rare and beautiful thing. With August, I’d been entertaining a different fantasy as of late—the kind involving evenings together and subsequent sunrises. Of dinners out and slumping on the couch together after long days. Of a relationship instead of flings, something I thought wasn’t in the realm of possibility.
“Are you free tomorrow night?” I asked. “I’m done in the morning, need to crash out for a bit, but I’m around after.”
“Yeah, actually,” he said. “What do you have in mind?”
