“Yeah, I bet you pussies have spare tutus laying around,” Don grumbled.
Sean laughed even harder at the targeted insult. “Tuesday,” he added before sauntering off, still laughing.
“This is some bullshit. You know they’re going to be in class, snapping pictures and shit. They’ll blow those photos up and post ’em up at the Annual Ball or some shit,” Corey fussed as we sat down.
I looked between all the men I considered my brothers. I grew up an only child, but these guys had become my family. I trusted them with my life, daily.
“We lost a bet. We pay up,” I said. As soon as the words were out, the grumbling ceased. Don and Corey still looked like they were suffering from trapped gas, but they didn’t dare refute my statement. We were Rescue Four men, and when we said we were going to do something, we did it, even if it meant we’d look like a bunch of suckers in tutus in a spin class. We’d own up to our loss, and then make sure to pay the favor back on the next bet, because I assure you we would not be losing another bet. Not on my damn watch.
“Who wants another beer?” Don asked.
Three hands went up, one of which was mine. Thankfully, I was off the next day and didn’t have to worry about getting up early to fight fires.
“Let me,” I told Don. Before he responded, I was halfway to the bar.
“Another round?” Angela smiled up at me and something funny in my chest happened. We’ve been coming to this bar more and more over the last few months. I’ve watched her since the first time I entered, telling myself to steer clear of her. I didn’t do messy entanglements, and in case things didn’t work out, I didn’t want to find another bar for Rescue Four to hang out at after-shift. I knew all too well how clingy some women could get. But the more I showed up toCharlie’s,the more senseless it became to try to deny this woman’s appeal.
I leaned on the bar, drawing me closer to Angela. I watched her nostrils flare and her chest rise when she inhaled from my nearness.
“For starters, Angel...” I responded.
She hesitated. “Angela.”
“What?”
“My name’s Angela. I think you mistook?”
“No mistake. With a face like yours, you should be called Angel.”
She dipped her head, but I caught the smile that parted her lips. “Firefighters are such flirts.”
“Not all of us,” I retorted.
“Yes,allof you.” Her gaze drifted over my shoulder.
I turned to look back at the table where the rest of my squad was. They were now accompanied by three women, all of them sitting on one of the guy’s laps. I grinned before turning back.
“Putting out fires is hard work. We need some type of outlet after hours.”
“That’s all women are to you? An outlet?” she challenged.
I raised my eyebrows, before letting my eyes scan down her face, the small amount of cleavage offered by her low cut sleeveless top she wore, those hips that flared out a little in the dark skinny jeans. She was about five-five and petite, but I knew we’d match perfectly.
“Not all women,” I responded, taking the beers she placed on the bar and going back to the table. I did my best to adjust myself in my jeans without being obvious. It was only a matter of time before Angela and I ignited, and I couldn’t wait.
Chapter Three
Angela
I grabbed my car keys from the wall mount and scanned the counters and stove to ensure I turned everything off before heading out the door. Moving through the living room, I picked up the remote and turned off the flat screen television hanging above the white brick fireplace. Grabbing myNikeduffle bag next to the door with my cycling shoes, towel, and a bottle of water, I was ready. Stepping onto my porch, I turned to lock the door. When I came down off the porch, I was greeted with a wave from my next door neighbor who was out for her mid-morning walk.
“Hey, Ms. Taylor. How’re you this morning?”
Her smile creased her chestnut skin, glistening with sweat. “God woke me up this morning. Gave me the strength to walk on these old tired legs. Can’t ask for much else.”
I chuckled. “I guess not. You enjoy the rest of your walk.”
“Thank you, baby. Oh, and thank you for that chocolate lava cake you brought over last week. It was so good, I had to stop Cheryl from taking the last piece. Was almost better than the cakes your mama used to make. God rest her soul.”
