“Arms up,” the oil lady instructed, and I obeyed mechanically, lifting my arms so she could coat my torso in slippery goop. Her movements were efficient and impersonal, and even her touch made me think of him.
Christ on a cracker, what was happening to me?
I glanced over at Troy again. The photographer was directing him to turn slightly, angling him to catch the light just right.The kitten had crawled up to perch on his shoulder, tiny paws kneading his skin. Troy’s smile was easy, natural—that same charming grin he flashed at every pretty woman he met. The one that made something in my chest ache now.
“You good?” the oil lady asked, and I realized I’d been standing frozen while she waited for me to turn around.
“Yeah, sorry. Just, uh, mentally preparing my poses,” I said, spinning to give her access to my back. I kept my eyes fixed on the far wall, refusing to look at Troy again.
This was temporary insanity. That had to be it. The kiss had scrambled my brain, made me confuse different kinds of attraction. Troy was my friend, my roommate, my work partner. I couldn’t actually want to—
“All set,” the oil lady announced, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “You’re up as soon as Troy’s finished.”
I nodded, trying to look normal, whatever the fuck normal even was anymore. Troy’s shoot seemed to be wrapping up, the photographer gushing about how perfect the shots were, how the kitten had taken to him so naturally. Troy was nodding along, the cat still perched on his broad shoulder like an adorable accessory.
“Alright, handoff time,” the shelter volunteer said, approaching Troy with a cat carrier. “We need Olive for Rhett’s shoot.”
Troy reached up to detach the kitten from his shoulder, his muscles flexing with the movement. A bead of sweat—or maybe oil—slid down his chest, tracing the line of his abs until it disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants. Those fucking cum gutters. I’d never even thought about that part of a man’s waist, and now it was all I could think about. What would it be like to trace that path with my tongue, to follow that drop all the way down to—
“Earth to Rhett!” Troy was suddenly in front of me, grinning as he held out the tabby. “You gonna take this cat or what?”
I blinked, heat flooding my face. Could he tell what I’d been thinking? “Yeah, sorry, just, uh… pre-shoot jitters.”
Troy laughed, handing me Olive, who dug her tiny claws into my chest for stability. “Since when do you get jitters about anything? You’re the most shameless attention whore I know.”
“Takes one to know one,” I shot back, grateful for the familiar banter. This was safe. Normal.
“True that,” Troy agreed, his hand lingering on mine during the kitten transfer. His skin was warm, slick from the oil.
I couldn’t breathe. He was sucking up all the air in the room. I took a step closer, wanting more of that feeling, and he paused there for a moment before stepping back.
“Remember to flex extra hard. The people who buy these calendars love that shit.”
“Rhett, we’re ready for you,” the photographer called, saving me from having to respond.
Troy clapped a hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze that felt both teasing and intimate, then sauntered off toward where some of the guys were watching the proceedings. I took a deep breath and stepped onto the backdrop they’d set up, cradling the little tabby against my chest.
“The photographer wants to try two kittens, since Olive likes you so much,” the shelter volunteer explained, approaching with an orange ball of fur. “This is Cheeto. He’s a bit of a troublemaker, but he and Olive are bonded, so they’ll be cute together.”
I nodded, accepting the second kitten, who immediately started climbing up my arm like it was a tree. “Hey, little dude, easy on the merchandise,” I joked, wincing as tiny claws dug into my skin.
“Perfect!” the photographer exclaimed, snapping away. “The contrast between tough firefighter and gentle kitten handler is exactly what we’re going for. Can you flex a bit more?”
I shifted into what I hoped was a photogenic pose, trying to balance looking tough with not terrifying the kittens. Cheeto scaled my shoulder and perched triumphantly on top of my head.
I stood as still as possible, feeling Cheeto’s tiny paws kneading my scalp. Olive was curled up in my palm, head settled against my chest, apparently content to use me as a heated bed, purringloudly. It was actually kind of nice, in a weird way. Calming. Maybe this was why people got pets—to distract them from inappropriate thoughts about their best friends.
“Hey, let me get in on this,” Troy’s voice came from my left, and suddenly he was beside me, reaching up to scratch Cheeto under the chin. The kitten purred loudly enough for me to feel the vibrations through my skull.
“That’s it!” the photographer exclaimed, camera clicking rapidly. “The friendship, the shared moment with the animals—it’s perfect! Can you both look at each other? I think we might have our cover shot!”
Well, I did love getting on the cover. I turned my head slightly, careful not to dislodge Cheeto, and found myself staring directly into Troy’s dark eyes. He was so close I could feel the heat radiating from his body, could smell his cologne mixing with the oil. His smile softened a fraction, becoming something more genuine, more private as he smoothed a hand over Olive’s soft head.
“You’re good with the kittens,” he said quietly, still scratching Cheeto’s chin. “Suits you.”
My heart hammered so hard I was sure everyone in the station could hear it. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Troy’s gaze dropped briefly to my lips, then back up to my eyes, so quick I might have imagined it. “Makes you lookalmost approachable.” The teasing broke the tension between us, putting us back on familiar ground.
