Except it’s not a wall this time. It’s the muscular backside of a tall man. I bounce off his butt like a kid in a bouncy castle and land on my ass on the floor. “Shit!”
“That’s a bad word!” Levi scolds, and I realize this brick wall of a man is holding him. Relief washes over me—until the man turns around and I see who it is.
“Well, hello there, a chroí. We’ve got to stop meeting this way,” Mr. March says in his irresistible accent.
I blink up at him like a fool. It takes several seconds for me to realize that he’s holding out a hand to help me up. As soon as I slide my hand into his giant one, a rush of warmth lights up my insides, and I clench my thighs together to ease the ache building there. His eyes track the movement, widening slightly, then they move slowly up my body before he locks eyes with mine.
It almost feels like a scene out of a movie, where the two love interests meet and something passes over them, drawing them together like magnets.
Almost.
Except I feel like Mike and I are two Barbie dolls that Lady Luck keeps mashing together like a manic child, and instead of some magical, fairy-tale book romance, we’re just awkwardly crashing and banging until we come out bruised and broken.
Okay, that might be a little dramatic.
But that’s the kind of luck I have.
And I know this is true, because it’s at that exact moment when Micah runs up to us shouting, “Mama, you forgot your diapers.”
My eyes go comically wide, and I watch in horror as Mike’s eyes roam back down to my crotch. Oh my God, is he trying to see if I’m wearing a diaper right now? I hold the box of fudge pops out in front of myself as if it will stop his leering. Except I realize that I’m now covering my crotch with something that looks like a giant turd, and I awkwardly hide it behind me. “It’s not… I don’t…” All words escape me as I shift nervously in front of him.
“Hey, you’re the Pokémon guy!” Micah exclaims.
His eyes shift to Micah, and a smile lights up his face. “See any interesting Squirtles around here?” There’s a small smirk on his face when he says this as his eyes drift back to the diapers I’m now clutching to my chest. “Or do you prefer a fire type?”
I’m not sure if he’s making a joke about Pokémon or about him being a firefighter. Either way, mortification consumes me as I grab Levi out of his arms and speed-walk to the checkout with Micah struggling to keep up behind me.
“Mo-om! Mama, wait!”
I stomp to the counter and throw my items down with more force than I intend. I’m still pissed at Mike a little. He doesn’t get to be all cute and charming.
Ignoring all of his attempts to get my attention, I hurry out of the store and pile the kids back into their car seats, convinced I’m going to die alone.
CHAPTER 6
MIKE
“Come and get it!” I shout, leaning my head out of the kitchen. A moment later, a half dozen guys and gals barrel into the room, lining up to eat my latest lunch creation.
I’m still not sure how it happened, and I certainly didn’t plan it, but being the firehouse’s resident cook has brought me more joy than I expected.
It started out small a couple years ago, just a simple casserole dish that I threw a few extra ingredients in, trying to clean out the pantry. I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing, and I was just praying I didn’t kill anyone. But to my surprise everyone loved it, and I started getting requests.
That one dish turned into ten more, and before I knew it, I was cooking every night, sometimes on my off days. It felt good to be needed for once in my life, knowing that there were people who depended on me.
After I fix myself a plate, I squeeze in next to RJ and dig in. For once, there’s not a word spoken at the table, no good-natured ribbing of the rookies, no jokes about riding the pole. Just utter silence as the entire table shovels food in their mouths like it’s their last meal on Earth.
“Damn, that was good. What did you put in it this time?”Hardy asks, pushing his empty plate away from him as he leans back in his chair. “I’m gonna have to put in an extra session in the gym, and I don’t even care.”
Blaze raises his hand. “I made the mystery basket for him tonight. I don’t even know what all I threw in there. I let my nephew pick.”
“Fucking delicious,” Rudy adds, letting out a giant burp.
Monica surprises us, letting out a long belch as she pats her stomach.
Someone else burps in response, and the table quickly erupts into grins as we all try to one up each other.
“Ladies, gents, and assorted degenerates, tonight’s meal was a tasty chicken and sausage jambalaya that included tinned black beans, a Mexican rice packet that I doctored, a little juice from a tin of mandarin oranges, and venison kielbasa courtesy of the random cupboard shite Blaze’s nephew threw in.”
