“Just head out the door and it’s two blocks to the left.”
Nodding my head, I stalk out the door and into the crisp morning air. I nod at a few people that I pass, enjoying the slow pace of the morning.
I don’t often get this. My job is busy and involves a lot of travel. I’ve got a house but I’m rarely there. It’s actually close to Wildwood and I’ve gone to the small town many times.
It’s nothing like this. It’s usually bustling with activity. The businesses are freshly painted and there’s a boom in traffic in the area.
I think most of them are women trying to find the calendar firefighters!
I’ve got no interest in firefighters anymore. Not since…nope! Not going there again.
It’s been at least eight years since I met my former partner. Since I fell in love like a damn rookie.
Since I found out he was happily married and living in another town. With kids of his own.
That was the first and last time I let my heart rule my damn head.
Growling, I stomp around a corner and find myself standing in front of the tiny firehouse with two bays for the firetrucks. There’s a small addition along the side that I assume is offices. And an even smaller second story that I assume is where they sleep when they’re on duty.
One of the bay doors is open and I step inside, my eyes adjusting happily to the dimmer light. Damn, it’s bright today!
Another glorious Colorado spring day. Hard to believe that something as ugly as arson exists on a gorgeous day like today.
“Can I help you?” One of the burly men steps out from behind the firetruck he’s working on. He’s dressed in a black t-shirt with the Maple Hills FD logo on it and a pair of jeans.
“Yeah. I guess I’m looking for the lieutenant.”
“Anything I can help you with?” He smirks, his blue eyes sparkling as he runs them down my body.
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Men are the same all over.
“I don’t think so.” His smile fades but he hollers.
“Hey, Lou! Somebody’s here to see you!”
“Send them back!” A deep, gruff voice hollers back. My heart rate quickens, shivers trailing down my spine.
Stuffing whatever the hell is going on down into a locked part of me, I nod towards the back and the guy grins and waves me on.
It takes me a minute or so to find a tiny office that looks like a closet. “Yeah…come in. What do you need?” That gruff, husky voice calls and my belly clenches, sweat dotting my forehead.
“I’m from DFPC. You called us about a string of fires?”
A dark head pops up and the deepest, darkest brown eyes I’ve ever seen widen and then narrow. “You can’t possibly be the arson investigator,” he growls.
Slapping a hand on my hip, I square off with him. “Why is that?”
He stands up and up and my eyes follow him, widening. He’s huge! Easily six three and built like a linebacker. His skin is tanned and taut but I can see the faint fan of lines around his dark eyes that show that he’s older than I think he is.
His mouth is probably usually soft and sensuous. But it’s tight and angry right now. Just like the flare in his chocolate eyes.
He crosses muscular arms in front of a broad, barrel chest and growls, “because you don’t look like you’re more than one hundred pounds soaking wet and eighteen years old! This is serious!” His dark eyes slice down my body and I feel it on my skin like a touch.
“I’m a pretty serious person. Also, it’s none of your damn business how old I am or how much I weigh!”
“Sweetheart, I’m just saying you don’t look like you’ve been doing this job long enough to work alone.”
Cocking my head, I growl, “You’re digging a hole deeper and deeper. None of that matters. Just so you know though, I’ve worked this job eight years.”
