A pause.
A soft inhale.
“Hayes,” she says my name with a warmth that could melt me from the inside out.
Before she can say anything else, the firehouse alarm blares overhead.
Loud. Piercing. Instant.
The bay becomes a flurry of motion.
“Shit,” I mutter into the phone. “I gotta go. Call-out.”
Her voice jumps in pitch. “Oh—of course. Go. Be careful.”
“I will.” I’m already moving, ready to jump into my turnout pants. “I’ll see you tonight at the bonfire?”
“Yeah,” she says, excitement glowing beneath the worry. “I’ll save you a cookie.”
That makes me grin like an idiot. “Save me two.”
“Deal.”
The alarm cuts off, leaving urgency in its wake.
“Emmy—” I say quickly, because I need her to hear it before I hang up, “I’m really damn proud of you. And I can’t wait to see you later.”
There’s a soft, shaky exhale on the line. “Same.”
I end the call, shove my phone into my pocket, and jump into my turnout gear before climbing into the truck as the engine roars to life.
Wyatt is seated across from me, an amused expression on his face. “Emmy, I’m really damn proud of you. I can’t wait to see you later,” he immediately teases, his voice taking on a feminine pitch. “Guess we know exactly what you were up to last night.”
“Shut. Up.” I warn.
He just laughs. “Whatever, man. Love looks good on you.”
“I’m not in love.”
“Liar.”
“Head in the game, Keaton,” I tell him.
Work now; Emmy later, I remind myself.
We pull up on scene and the frantic cat owner is waiting for us outside.
“She’s up there. I was just trying to take out the trash and Muffy ran out the door. She chased that damn squirrel right up that tree and now she won’t come down.”
“Hey, Mrs. Miller.” Wyatt turns on the charm. “We’ll get Muffy down. I promise. Hayes is an expert with the kitties.”
I raise a brow at him. Cheeky fucker.
“Lieutenant Thatcher, can I give this a shot? I think I can get the cat down,” our rookie comes bouncing over to me.
“Go on.” I’m all too happy to let him try.
It takes him a few minutes of coaxing but he does good.
