Still frowning.Red alert.“Busted your leg? How?”
Don’t worry about it. I’m okay now. Please smile.“Uh, some shrapnel hit me. It wasn’t even that big of an explosion. Notas dramatic as you’re probably thinking. It was actually kind of annoying that they discharged me, but then I found my way to the FDNY.”
“You really care about being useful.” It’s not a question.
I rise from the floor. “Doesn’t everyone?”
“I think if everyone cared about helping others as much as you clearly do, the world would be a much better place.”
I smirk at her. “You should put that on a greeting card, gorgeous. That was sweet.”
Lila rolls her eyes, but a small smile tugs on her lips. “Anyway, I’ll stop being nosy. Let’s get started, okay,gorgeous?”
I wink at her. “You’re the boss. Just tell me what to do.”
Her smile sharpens into something vaguely wicked at that and I have to bite my tongue from teasing her. Does she enjoy ordering people around? I prefer to be the dominant one in bed, but I like the idea of seeing if she could gain the upper hand.
Except this is my workplace. This is a professional dynamic. I’m merely a temporary cast member of her Save A Hero campaign, and she’s only being so nice to me because she’s a nice person.
So, I should keep it in my pants.
Plus, on top of all that, I’ve seen the way the captain looks at her.
Lila snaps her fingers in front of my face. “Focus, Blondie.”
I pretend to bite at her hand, causing her to let out a burst of laughter that makes my spine feel all tingly. “Who are you calling Blondie, Blondie?”
She shakes her head. “Should I call you Dimples instead?”
I grin at her. She likes my dimples.
“You can call me whatever you want, Lila Hart.”
“Good. Now go stand over there.” She points to the back of one of the parked trucks. It’s midmorning and the city is having a slow day, so most of the staff on duty are cleaning or training.
The engine I pose in front of is freshly polished to a gleam. Thanks to me. Or rather, thanks to Hargrove, who has taken it upon himself to give me a disproportionate number of chores. Not because he’s still trying to punish me for the kitten debacle, but because he knows I like to keep busy.
Like Lila said, I guess I really do like to be useful.
“Okay,” she says, aiming her phone camera setup at me from a few feet away. “We’re doing the grand tour, alright? No fluff, no cheeky remarks. And keep your shirt on, if you don’t mind.”
I jut out my lower lip in a dramatic pout. “But how will they recognize me without my incredible physique on display?”
“The entire point of this is that they recognize you with your clotheson. Acting professional.”
I roll my eyes. Obviously, I feel fucking horrible that my stunt has triggered a chain reaction that’s led to the possible defunding of our station, but I still can’t let go of the opinion that what I did wasn’t a huge deal. It was just a bit of fun. Also, the kitten really was stuck.
“You know, for the record,” I begin, “the only reason I took my shirt off in the first place that day was because there was a stain on it from lunch. I didn’t want people to think Station 47 harbored a bunch of slobs.”
Lila snorts. “Seriously?”
“Cross my heart.”
“Well, unfortunately, the truth doesn’t always matter that much.”
“Is that the first rule of PR?”
“No.” She winks at me. “The first rule of PR is that you do exactly what I say because I’m the expert and I have a very elaborate strategy that needs to be adhered to flawlessly.”
