“No, he’s divorced three times. Good doc but difficult to live with, I guess. Somehow his girlfriends get pregnant at the drop of a hat. He marries them, and they divorce him. I’m not sure I even want to keep trying after sinking 100,000 dollars into it.”
Now it was completely silent. It was weird to complain about the cost of IVF when Carver had dropped his salary by 250,000 to be a firefighter.
“I’m not against kids, but we gave it a try and should move on. I was an ER doctor, I made some big mistakes, and now I moved on. Manika doesn’t see it yet. It’s less stressful out here away from the ER. There’s more cool action and neat stuff in the trenches. You get to take bold strokes—no more strep throats or ear infections. Be right there in the action.”
The group exchanged worried glances. Not only did it sound like his marriage wasn’t in great shape, but this was also the type of thing an eighteen-year-old rookie would say. A forty-two-year-old ex-doctor should have known better.
Theo cleared his throat. “Carver, while this is one of the best jobs in the world, it’s still dangerous. My husband worried about me. I cut it close a few times. And as for not stressful… you haven’t had to collect body parts from an unrestrained driver versus the pavement. Or carried a dead kid out of a building after a fire.”
Carver’s eyes flashed. “Trust me. I’ve delivered enough dead kids.”
Fabulous. The attempt to get Carver to open up was unsuccessful in several ways. He had a troubled marriage, a God-complex, and now Aiden had turned completely green.
“That’s right. Don’t reproduce. Don’t get married. Don’t touch another person. It’s better that way,” Aiden said.
“Great pep talk, Lieutenant Sunshine. Must have drunk too much of Captain Gloomy’s coffee. If Carver doesn’t want to have kids, he won’t have kids. If he wants to be a job-hopping weirdo, it’s up to him. And if Vanessa wants to eat Theo’s boneless buffalo wings, it’s up to her.” Erin said.
“What the heck is a boneless buffalo wing?” Vanessa held the wing she’d stolen from Theo and waved it at Kevin. “Buffalos don’t have wings. Is it a breaded chicken finger or a chicken foot?”
“They’re made out of rats,” Kevin said.
Vanessa stuffed three in her mouth. “Rats are delicious.”
“How did someone believe you were the epitome of femininity?” Kevin wrinkled his nose. “If she starts gagging, Carver, you’re on Heimlich.”
Vanessa spit half of a buffalo wing on Kevin’s plate. “Oops. Don’t worry, baby, my gag reflex is amazing.”
“No matter how attractive you act, I won’t sleep with you,” Theo deadpanned.
The meal continued, and Erin quietly had her pot-stickers packed up. They would be a good dinner—not a snack—if she scheduled a sexy repeat.
Because, frankly, according to her friends, she’d already broken every one-night stand rule. Why not break a few more when she woke up from her afternoon nap?
Chapter 22
E: Come by for dinner and dessert? 2000?
Han: Yes.
E: Chinese good?
Han: Should I bring anything?
E: Yourself, a smile, and a good appetite. Hungry?
Han: Starving.
E: I’ll open my garage so you can park.
* * *
At precisely eight p.m., there was a gentle knock on her backdoor. She answered it wearing dark wash skinny jeans and semi-low cut cranberry top.
He was still in his uniform—white button-down, black tie, and black chief jacket—but he was tasty enough that she grabbed his lapels and kissed him.
Noah responded with hungry fervor; his hands grabbed her ass and ground her against him. He had been across her threshold less than thirty seconds, and he was already hard. She wiggled appreciatively, eliciting a deeper kiss.
When they came up for air, his dress shirt was unbuttoned, his tie was on the floor, and he was panting. “So it’s a metaphorical appetite?”
