I sat on a bench in our station’s locker room and stared up at him. “Had better shifts.”
He looked grim. “I’ve already arranged seventy-two off for you.”
“But—”
“No,” he said. “We can spare you.”
“I don’t need to ‘talk to someone’,” I protested. “I’ve seen a lot worse, you know.”
“I know you have but you’ve been on four days straight and I didn’t realize it. You’re supposed to clear shift swaps through me first, remember? Seems like I chewed you out about this before. Besides, didn’t I see you talking to Officer McGuire? Maybe it’s time for you to have a social life. I hear she’s single.”
My face heated. “I’m not hitting on an MFWP officer.” Since I was single without kids or pets, I was frequently asked by other crew to swap out when they had family stuff. Honestly? I never minded doing it. I rarely had anything going on, and when I did, I usually scheduled it far enough out I could apply vacation days and not worry about my plans getting fubared.
“Didn’t say hit on her,” he said. “Ask her out for dinner or something. She’s gotta eat, you know.”
I grumbled but didn’t respond. I’d interacted with her a couple of times in the past at incident scenes and I never gotthe feeling she was the slightest bit interested in me as anything other than a fellow first responder.
He lightly slapped the side of the lockers. “See you in seventy-two and not a minute before,right?”
“Right.”
I finished dressing and shoved my stuff into my gear bag. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep right now, so I headed over to Paul’s Coffeeshop on my way home to get something to take with me.
Speak of the devil.
In the parking lot sat an MFWP SUV, and when I walked inside, none other than Officer McGuire stood there by the counter, scrolling through her phone and waiting for her order.
Okay. Here goes.
I walked over. “Hey.”
She glanced up. “Hey there. Hesten, right?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
She smiled. “You busy tonight?”
That took me off-guard. “Uh, yeah, I was?—”
“How you feel about doctors?”
I shut up again, confused and knowing I somehow lost the plot.
She stood there, awaiting my answer.
“Uh, I like doctors, I guess?—”
“Good. I’d like you to meet my sister, Emmy Colefield. How about I text you our address and you come over around 8:00, if that works for you?”
“Um, sure.”
“Cool. Casual is fine—jeans, not dressy.”
Two minutes later she headed out with her order and I was left staring at the text from her on my personal phone.
That… didnotgo the way I’d planned.
As in, atall.
