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“When are you off next?” I questioned.
“Friday.” He answered.
“I’ll get them then. Maybe you can stay for dinner.” I offered hopefully before dropping down in my seat and slamming the door without listening to his response.
“You just asked your hot firefighter neighbor that belongs to a motorcycle club to dinner. Does this mean you want to bang him? Shine his fire pole? Work his throttle? Ride him like a Harley?” My sister jeered.
I let my hand fly and smacked her across the boobs. “You’re such an ass. I was totally going to get a kiss from him before you had to pull out the asshole and honk the horn.”
“A little bit of mystery goes a long way, sister dearest.”
Indeed it does, I thought.
What I hadn’t planned on was letting the two months following my bar experience turn me into a raving lunatic that would do just about anything to have the man.
One thing after another came up, and the sexual tension was building so high, I couldn’t handle it. I was willing to do just about anything to have that man. Even if I had to shine his pole while he was on-shift at the station during my conference period.
CHAPTER 5
What is a hero? Someone who does something that has to be done, regardless of the consequences.
-Plaque on the wall at the Benton Fire Station
KETTLE
One week later
I fairly stomped up my front walk.
I’d had a bad day at work, Sebastian had been a royal dick all day, and my father had called.
For the first time in years.
Then I read the note on my door and wanted to curse.
Sorry I missed you. ? Maybe you can come for dinner this week. I even bought extra for tonight. You owe me 17 bags, Mister!
She’d had to carry seventeen bags up her stairs and all because my boss and VP, Sebastian, had needed ‘a day to himself.’ Normally, I had no problem pulling a shift if he needed me to, but today, of all days, had been a total clusterfuck.
The next morning, I’d gone to knock on her door after my morning workout to find her gone. She’d mentioned some sort of school testing to me in passing, and needing to go in early for them, but that also meant I couldn’t see her until next week since I worked this weekend.
Thinking she needed to have my cell phone number so we could get in touch, I ran back to my house, found an old receipt, and scribbled my number down with a Sharpie before finding a tack and pinning it to her door.
Text me. Sorry I missed carrying your bags. 665-0021 –K.
Two weeks later
Texts between Adeline and Kettle
Addy- I had a good time last night. Even if that kid did puke on me.
Kettle- Sorry about that. Probably shouldn’t have given him so much ice cream.
Addy- That’s okay. I live next door to you. It was an easy fix.
Kettle- Still gross as hell. Dinner Friday?
Addy- Absolutely.
