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2
DREW
Why couldn’t I breathe? I still had two perfectly good, functioning lungs. Breathing shouldn’t have been an issue.
So why had the sight of a shivering, attractive stranger on my front porch stolen the breath from my lungs before sending me even further into asshole mode than where I usually lived?
Objectively attractive stranger. I wasn’t attracted to her. But I could admit her big brown eyes with that smokey-eye makeup shit women were into doing, and her pink pouty lips, and her chestnut waves would be found alluring by most red-blooded men with a pulse. Men who weren’t carrying around the baggage—and hardware—I was. Men who could imagine burrowing their hands into her hair without worrying about how repulsed she would end up being once she got to know them.
That wasn’t me. I was the asshole who turned a beautiful, freshly scammed woman away into the night in an unfamiliar town to figure shit out on her own. No hospitality on offer here.
What if she didn’t find somewhere to stay though?
Not my problem. She was sassy enough that I assumed she could hold her own and find someplace to stay.
The more pressing question was how she’d ended up on my front porch. This had Brody written all over it. He was the kind of guy who’d figure out a way to deliver a beautiful damsel in distress to my front door when he knew I wasn’t ever going to be looking for anyone on my own. My former shift captain was a Meddling Mandy like that. It had been almost five years since the accident that ended my career as a firefighter, and Brody still hadn’t thrown in the towel.
Thumbing open my phone, I looked down at the long-dead text chain between the guys I used to be tight with. When was the last time that thing buzzed?
Hmm. Eighteen months ago. Surprising they kept it going for as long as they did with no input from me. They finally got the hint though, and started a new one without me.
Drew: What are you fuckers up to tonight? We need to talk.
Will: It lives!
Will: (Dracula rising from a coffin gif)
Ben: (Dr. Frankenstein yelling gif)
Brody: (Punxsutawney Phil poking his head out gif)
Will: We’re at the Tipsy Elk. Stop in.
Stop in,he says. Like it was the easiest thing in the world and I wasn’t a disaster of a human being who didn’t know how to function in the outside world anymore. Like I hadn’t ignored all their well-meaning attempts to engage with me over the last five years. Like I was still a regular part of their lives.
I ran my hand down my face and considered my options. It wasn’t my fault a random woman showing up on my doorstep expecting a place to stay had blindsided me. There was no way in hell she could stay with me, but I could ensure she got her money back. And knowing Brody, he had some elaborate scheme cooked up I would have to dissuade him of in person.
Twenty minutes later I pushed through the big oak door of the Tipsy Elk Ale House to meet my former coworkers and sort this out. From the outside the Tipsy Elk looked like a dive, but the interior resembled an alpine ski lodge with modern geometric accents.
This time of year the place was full of locals, and their curious stares made my skin crawl. No doubt the rumor mill would crank full speed in a matter of hours with speculation about what prompted me to crawl out of my burrow and show my face in public.
Will Coleman gave me an enthusiastic wave from across the room and I shoved down a twinge of guilt. Will, Ben, and Brody took up a large booth near the rear of the bar. I made my way back to them, ignoring the hushed whispers as I walked by.
“Tomb Raider,” Will said with a smile. I hadn’t heard the nickname in ages. I’d earned it after four straight calls in a row where I did basement searches. Got everyone out safe on every single one of them.
Will jumped up to give me a handshake-slash-back-clap with a wide smile. “Good to see you, man.” He pushed his blond hair out of his eyes. Will looked better suited to the beach than turnout gear, but he was a great guy to have in your corner.
“You too, Jockey.” I clapped his back before I turned and gave Ben a nod.
“Jets,” I said to Ben, who flashed me his usual shit-stirring grin and nodded back.
Hopefully addressing them by their nicknames would soften the blow from the fact that this wasn’t a social call, and I wasn’t about to suddenly start hanging out with them at the Tipsy Elk on the reg.
“Captain.” Hands on my hips, I turned my attention to Brody Watson. Almost five years had passed since I hung up my gear, and I wanted to throttle him if he did what I think he did, but I still respected the man enough to call him Captain.
“Raider.” He took a long pull of his draft to hide his smirk. “Pleasant surprise to see you out and about for a change.”
That fucking smirk sealed the deal. If I’d had any doubt about whether Brody orchestrated that woman showing up on my porch, the look on his face obliterated it. My former shift captain looked like a well-aging Viking with his thick salt-and-pepper beard, but his gossip-and-meddling game could give any little old church lady a run for her money. “Surprised to see you out past midnight on a weeknight yourself, old man.”
