Of thinking about anything that isn’t him.
I lift my hand in a wave.
Die a sweet death as Sab waves back.
Sab
I’ve seen Galen in firefighter gear before. But I was distracted then—why does it feel so long ago?—by the shock of him, of anyone, catching me arsing about on a swingers app. Too busy scrambling to notice much except his obvious scorching hotness.
Now, though…
Now it’s impossible not to notice the whole package. The jacket clinging to his muscular frame, open enough to show a dark T-shirt beneath. His auburn hair glinting in the winter sun. The flush of heat on his face as he turns towards me, eyes bright with exertion, and so fucking alive.
And that’s just the aesthetic. Don’t get me started on the sheer capability bleeding from every move of his strong body. Competence that makes the yearning buried inside me burn a little hotter, a smoulder that becomes a furnace as his features light with recognition and he smiles. Grins, I suppose, a casual curve of his full lips, butmerde, it jumpstarts a wave of happiness that’s probably dangerous.
He’s been quiet all week.
Silent, actually, offline since the night he came to my house, and I don’t realise until this moment how hard I’ve braced for him to blank me if we happen upon each other in public again.It’s fucking stupid, but as he starts towards me, I feel like I can breathe again, and I find myself beaming like an idiot, thankful Tam has gone back to his stall in the other row of tents. Thankful for lots of things, but mostly that Galen’s not looking at me like I’m a mistake he’d rather forget.
He nears where I’m loitering by an ornate timber pergola, wondering how whoever decorated it got their fairy lights so symmetrical. I smell smoke on him and miss his apple pie scent. Doesn’t make him any less edible, though, and that flush on his cheeks is killer.
So killer, I almost bottle it and avert my gaze. But his grin—fuck, it’s impossible to turn away from. By the time he reaches me, my pulse is in my ears, tongue tied in knots, and I’m entranced by his easy confidence. By his lyrical Irish brogue. I’ve missed his voice.
But not for much longer. “That fecking smile, boy. You’ve made my day. Stop the lights, you have no idea how hot you are.”
Fucking hell. He’s got to be taking the piss. “Toute cette fumée t’est montée à la tête.”
He laughs. “I have no idea what you just said, but if you’re arguing with me, don’t bother.”
“Why’s that then?”
Galen steps closer. “You’ll lose.”
I really am lost for words this time. French. English, I’m shot. So I stare at him instead, matching this version of Galen to the one I watched spring from a still-moving truck and boss the fire scene with the same calm authority I know he’d use in bed if we ever get that far. The one who kissed me in my living room like he owned me.
It doesn’t help me get a hold of myself. But I can’t stop drinking him in. Or the vague instinct that maybe he’s doing the same to me. That his intense gaze means something more than whatever it meansto him.
“Listen,” Galen says when I fail to speak. “Sorry I’ve been quiet this week. Been in my head a bit, and trying to fix my house up to get away from it, you know?”
I do know. On both counts. More than I want to admit. “Did you at least get a lot of work done on your place?”
It’s Galen’s turn to snort. “If you don’t count the bodges I need to go back and unfuck. Anyway, it would’ve been a hell of a lot harder if my shoulder was still crocked, so cheers for that. And, uh…” He glances around, scratching his jaw as if wherever he’s going with this isn’t coming out how he planned. “These nerves you’ve got about fellas. I was thinking, maybe you could come round mine sometime. We could, you know, work on that together. Just us, like. No pressure.”
“I…”
Merde.
What is even happening right now? Is he inviting me over for…sex lessons? And if he is, how the hell do I respond without embarrassing the fuck out of myself? Without tripping over my tongue to sayfuck yeah, when the reality of my life means it’ll never happen?
Tam and Bhodi?—
No.
I shut the thought down before it takes hold. I’m not ditching my kid for the night so I can screw around. I can’t do that. Ican’t?—
“I work shifts.” Galen fills the silence again. “Doesn’t have to be an evening thing if that doesn’t work for you. I’m flexible, and you know what else I am, Sab?”
“Uh. No?”
