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“Wallace! In my office.”
Or not.
“Coming, Chief.” I enter his office and see Mitchell and Brady. “What’s up?”
“Sit. I have an assignment for you three today. The elementary school my wife works at is having a career day. They asked for a unit to give the kindergarten class a lesson on becoming a firefighter along with a tour of the engine.”
“Andwho’sgoing to do our job? You know, actually fighting the fires—?”
“I’m asking you three. My wife has only been in the principal role for a short time and wants to make a good impression. I need people who will impress.”
I peer over at Mitchell, who looks ready to bail. He loves the thrill of the job. He’s a no-shit-taker who lives for the danger and manages to come out alive every time. But he’s all technical—definitely not the guy you call when your cat is stuck in a tree.
Brady, the youngest firefighter on my crew but damn good at his job, looks just as disinterested.
“You’ll be in and out. Explain why it’s great to be a firefighter and let them touch the engine. If you get a call while you’re there, cut it short.”
“But, Chief—”
“Here’s the address. Ask for Mary Caldwell. Now, get out of my office. I have work to do.”
“Not what I signed up for today,” Mitchell grumbles as we head toward the locker room.
“Oh, come on, it won’t be that bad. Just a bunch of screaming five-year-olds.” I chuckle.
“Are you kidding me? You ever seeKindergarten Cop?” Mitchell returns.
Brady shakes his head and opens his locker. “Dude, that’s about a cop, not a firefighter.”
“Same thing. Tyrant kids.”
I can’t help but laugh. “You realize part of the job is helping people. As in, you’re supposed to be empathetic?”
“Says who? I don’t need to coddle anyone, I need to keep them alive.”
“Real romancer. I can imagine all the women falling at your feet,” Brady says, shoving his legs through his fire pants.
“My women like me just the way I am: fierce and to the point. They don’t want roses and chocolate. They want my tongue shoved inside their sweet—”
I grunt. “Yeah. Got it. Don’t need any more of that visual.”
Mitchell shrugs. “Just sayin’. Not all women need their hands held. Some like them tied up.”
His comment sparks my anger. That temptress who lured me in and hung me out to dry. My arms hung from that damn bedpost for almost twelve hours.
“Hard pass. I’ll stick with a woman who doesn’t prefer whips and chains.” I climb into my turnout pants and slide on my suspenders.
“Don’t knock it ’til you try it. Some chicks get real freaky.”
Oh, I’ve tried it. I want nothing more than to burn it out of my memory. Everything from her addictive eyes to her stern voice. God, her amazing body. . . “Nah, I’m good.”
“Your loss. Once, I orgasmed so hard, I thought I was gonna bust a nut.”
“Jesus,” Brady gripes. “At no point do I care to hear about you busting a nut.”
Mitchell offers him another shrug. “It was like busting a nut, figurativelyandliterally.”
I stifle out a laugh and shut my locker. “As educational as this conversation is, let’s get this over with.”
