Whatever her problem is? I don’t care. I’ll survive.
Oreo—the station Dalmatian—greets me the moment I step through the door, tail wagging so hard his whole body moves. There is nothing quite like a dog’s enthusiasm and loyalty.
“At least someone likes me,” I hear myself mutter, scratching behind his ears.
“That’s because he doesn’t know you didn’t share our Crush Cakes with Winnie,” Austin says from across the bay with his feet kicked up on a chair.
I roll my shoulders, irritated that she somehow “followed” me into the station.
“Such a harsh rejection, bro.” James stands in the doorway, but officially, he’s in the driver’s seat—our engineer.
Why are they bringing up something that happened last week? Never mind, it’s better than the spectacular failure that was trivia night—not that I was eager for it to be a success. But I’d rather have saved my dignity.
Reese polishes the engine, which means he’s avoiding paperwork. He’s our utility man, handles forcible entry, ventilation, ladders, and all the tools—the irons. He’s half mechanic. Half adrenaline junkie and possibly in love, but we don’t talk about that kind of nonsense around here.
Clearing my throat, I say, “I didn’t reject her. I said we promised a Crush Cake to Nancy.”
Austin says, “Same thing.”
I shrug. “It’s not. I reserved one for Nancy weeks ago. Standard operating procedure.”
He guffaws, well aware I’m being ridiculous.
Scotty Hodges appears from the equipment room, all six-foot-four of him, built like a lumberjack. In a rare show ofhumor, he chuckles. He’s our muscle and supports the nozzleman, leading the attack in a fire—that would be Austin or me.
I’m command and can do all the roles as the need arises. I can even bake … and apparently be a greedy cake tyrant. A new low. “Whatever. I’ve let it go. You should, too.”
Austin snorts. “But you’re thinking about it. I can tell.”
James leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. He’s got that James Dean look—dark hair, brooding expression, the kind of guy who should be in movies instead of running into burning buildings.
“How is Peony?” I ask, changing the subject.
His jaw clenches. “Fine.”
Not fine, then. They were high school sweethearts, have been married for years, and lately, every time I see them, it’s like they’re on opposing teams, acting like strangers—trivia night included. I don’t ask. Not my business.
Handsome Hayes, the rookie who’s too pretty for his own good, bounds in with coffee. “Did you guys hear that Mayor Barbie is announcing the Fireman’s Ball Committee assignments today?”
I grunt because this means more tasks—as if we didn’t already have enough on our hands, stretched thin as the main responders to a geographical area double that of other crews, but with half the population—though that’s changing with a huge influx of new construction, which will bring new residents.
“Today?” I ask.
“Yep. The email went out an hour ago.”
I haven’t checked. I’ve been on a mountain. My preferred location. Sky, silence, solid ground beneath my feet. Zero cake drama. No trivia night spectacles.
Austin says, “Chances are you’re on a team with Winnie again.”
“Like at Tacos & Trivia night?” Hayes asks.
I say, “Don’t talk like that. It’s unprofessional.”
“So is refusing to give her a Crush Cake.”
I head for my locker, Oreo trailing behind me. The guys mean well, but they don’t get it. Austin is a romantic—believes in true love and all that garbage that’ll eventually bite him on the butt. As far as I can tell, James is holding his marriage together with duct tape and stubbornness. Scotty is too focused on firefighting to date. Reese may be in a long-distance relationship, but he won’t say with whom, even though Austin hounds him. Hayes is still figuring out which end of the hose goes where—last week, he literally flooded the bay.
None of them understands why I stay single.
