Page 4 of Wrong Number, Right Grumpy Firefighter

“I’m not taking any chances. Get what you need out of your car. I’ll have Gage check it out. We can pick it up tomorrow.”

“You don’t mind giving me a ride home?”

I press the call button, and as it rings, look at Heather to ask, “Did you install the Ring camera I got you for Christmas?”

“No—”

“Then you’re not going home tonight.”

“But—”

“Dean, for the tenth time, the answer is no,” my brother says the second the call connects. “You offered to make our sister a custom in-home library. You’re not roping me into helping you put together all those built ins. You’re on your own.”

“I need a different favor.”

“You sound serious.” His tone shifts from brother to police officer instantly.

“I am.”

“What’s going on?”

Keeping my eyes on the front door to the steakhouse, I give Gage the short version. My brother immediately promises to take care of the situation, and I end the call.

“Got what you need?”

“There’s nothing in there I need tonight. But where are you taking me?”

“To my place.”

“I could just go Nana’s?—”

“It’s late. She’s probably asleep.” Despite being eighty, her nana is usually the last one to leave any party. But I hope Heather’ll accept what I’m saying without calling me out so I don’t have to scare her further. I refuse to take her anywhere but my place tonight so I can keep her—and those she cares about—safe.

“You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”

“Penny would skin me alive if I did.”

“Fine,” she says with a heavy, defeated sigh.

We drive back to my place in strained silence. I fucking hate it, but I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to tell the woman I’ve been in love with for years that the kiss she called a mistake meant everything to me. It’s clear she doesn’t feel the same way. The number of dates she’s been on these past few months would attest. I’ve kept my distance out of respect, only stepping in when shit gets serious.

“I don’t have a toothbrush,” she says as I pull into the driveway. The garage is full of unassembled bookshelves for my sister, so I can’t park in there. Tonight is the only night I’ve been irritated about that.

“I have extras,” I say, cutting the ignition and opening the garage door so we can go inside that way.

“That clocks.”

Hand on the door handle, I freeze. “What isthatsupposed to mean?”

Heather flinches, and I silently curse at myself. I’m wound so fucking tight about all the things that might’ve gone wrong tonight had she not sent me that text, but that doesn’t mean I should be taking them out on her. She didn’t ask for some stalker asshole to ruin her night.

“Why did you textme?” I ask, softening my tone.

“I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

She pulls out her phone, scrolling. “I texted Penny—oh.” A sheepish smile spreads across her lips, a light blush pinkening her cheeks. “Apparently Pennyand Pain in My Ass are right next to each other in my contacts list. Who knew?”