“You stole my line,” Theo said, “He’s not much older than me and younger than Carver. I definitely did not check out his profile today on the Cleveland FD webpage.”
“You might find him less pleasant when he’s raking you over the coals,” Aiden said. “He doesn’t say much, but he lets you know you’re wrong. Not a yeller.”
“We can ask Erin,” Theo said, directing attention to the one who had remained silent during the exchange.
“Ask me what?” She feigned ignorance, wishing to move past the Chief as a topic of conversation. Were they asking her if she thought he was scrumptious while yelling? Or at yoga? Or while working out with him? Or in her dreams? Or standing in a burning skyscraper?
“About the yelling. Your discussion with him on Sector 22 got pretty heated.”
Great, someone had seen the current object of her affection threaten to fire her.
“‘Heated’ during a fire. Very funny. He didn’t yell. We had a civil discussion about RIT protocol.” Time to redirect. “Hey, Earth to Luna, what are you doing?”
Everyone turned to Luna. She blushed and put her phone away. “I got a few texts from Elias. Big deal.”
“Dick pics?” Vanessa teased.
“No. I’m warning him to stay away for a while. Between the Chief and getting a new captain—”
“Can’t bang you in the captain’s quarters anymore?” Kevin commented. “At least you and Aiden knew how to keep it quiet in there.”
“That’s because Soto would have gelded Aiden. Soto LOVES Elias—he’s practically handing out condoms for him to boink Luna,” Vanessa volunteered. Interestingly, Aiden didn’t take the bait.
“Exactly why I told him to stay away.” Luna tried to whack her roommate, and Kevin fake blocked her.
Erin exhaled as the mockery focused on Luna’s love life. She didn’t have a love life currently because all she could think about was Stupid, Dangerously Hot, Evil, Judgy, Dark Jedi, Fire Chief. Not fair.
Crap. This was going to be a very long two weeks.
Chapter 8
Noah wasn’t sure how these two weeks could feel any longer than they already did. He was enjoying the opportunity to captain a team, even if it was only temporary. Sadly, the rest of his administrative work never let up. He postponed some of his regular monthly firehouse visits. With fifty firehouses, he and the two assistant chiefs were on a rotation where they would each visit fifteen to twenty firehouses per month with the battalion chiefs. At least since he was currently in charge of Battalion 2, he wouldn’t have to visit Firehouse 15. When Williams took over, Noah’d have to jump into visiting the other firehouses by the end of the month.
There were no large calls, so he stayed at the firehouse most of the time. The other shifts were passable, but the A-shift was where all the passion lay. As he’d anticipated, the three officers on A-shift were the ones to watch
There was also that firecracker, Erin Hudgens. He took his lunches with each shift, but he always avoided Hudgens. He made sure he never sat next to her, never spoke to her outside of a structured meeting with the rest of the team.
With that in mind, he decided to arrive at six a.m. and work out his pent-up aggression. Always an early riser, it was one of his favorite times of the morning. The firehouse was usually quiet if they weren’t out for a call. Everyone was asleep; the barn was empty of people with its two fire trucks and ambulance. No one was on the catwalk crossing the large garage to the conference room.
The captain’s office was empty, so he changed into his shorts and T-shirt. Captain Soto’s mark was heavy in the office despite being gone for over six months. Nowhere more than on a giant caricature situated on the wall opposite the desk. Soto was there in the middle surrounded by all four shifts, his arms around Aiden, Clarke, and Luna Rodriguez.
Noah always wondered how the artist had captured all the shifts, but it wasn’t them now. Those people were a happy, hopeful family. Somewhere, A-shift had splintered, and they were more of pieces than a whole. They had gambled and lost big. Ideally, Williams would be able to reforge the scattered pieces, even if he and Noah weren’t friends anymore.
Now was not the time to worry about that. This was the time to build up a nice sweat.
It was a good morning to box. Each movement blended into a smooth rhythm. His muscles loosened up, increasing the force of his best left cross.
Then it happened. He pivoted on his right front leg, as expected for a leftie like him, and his quad seized up with a painful Charley horse.
Off balance, Noah immediately dropped down onto the floor. The muscles of his right quad burned, spasming with each pulse. He needed to massage and stretch it, but he couldn’t do that with his gloves on. He had to untie his gloves with his teeth—more difficult than it sounded while trying to suppress his screams of agony.
The door to the gym opened, and Hudgens came in, dressed in the FD issued PT tank top and carrying a basketball. She gaped in surprise to find him writhing on the ground with a boxing glove in his mouth.
“Chief!?” She dropped to her knees. “Charley horse?”
He spit out the glove, struggling to speak. “Yes.” Hudgens placed her warm hands on his right quad. “What are you doing?”
“Uh… helping you?” Her tone asked if he was being serious. She began to rub the sinews of the tight muscles, applying the perfect amount of pressure to relieve the pain. With deft strokes, she ran her long, dark fingers from the top of his thigh to the bottom. Undeterred by his grunts of pain, she kept a firm touch, skillfully and incrementally decreasing the cramp.
