“You good?” Davey pulls his up, securing it before tossing his jacket over his shoulders.
Just my luck I had to run the hardest circuit known to mankind seconds before a callout.
“I’ll live, bro.”
He chuckles. “Good to know, sis.”
I roll my eyes at him. He does realize bro is not literal, right? Maybe someone should tell him.
I drag my sorry ass to the engine and climb up the best I can without falling into a heap the second I’m inside. And my day just gets better, because the only seat left is the one attached to Schmiddy’s.
I tamp back the groan desperately wanting out and raise my arm to grab the headset. It falters, and I wince. Schmiddy leans over. He’s chewing gum, or something, and winks as his shoulder presses against mine. “Hammond riding your ass, sweetheart? See, I’d never do that to you.”
All of a sudden Hammond’s tactics don’t seem so harsh. I’d take the tough love over this misogynist sleaze bag any day.
On second thought, they can both go die in a hole.
I’m never going to get the stench of burning plastic and electrical out of my skin, my airways... pretty sure it’s embedded itself into my grey matter.
After seven hours of an electronics warehouse fire that is a total write-off, I’m finally peeling the sweat-laden clothes from my body as blissful steam curls around the small cubicle, coaxing me in with its reaching tendrils.
It seems as if I’m in this shower cubicle about as much as I’m in 53. I like both equally, to be honest. This vocation has been calling me for years, long before I was in a position to start working on my place in any fire department.
Footsteps scuff over the tile. I can tell it’s a guy by the lumberjack stride as he walks into the shared space. I squirt shampoo into my palm and weave it through my long, thick hair.
The scent is heavenly, lavender and peach with a hint of vanilla. One of the few luxuries I concede to, despite the struggle of living in one of the world’s most expensive cities.
I loose a heavy sigh as the fragrance tangles through my senses, relaxing my sore muscles instantly. Something thuds on the wall separating my shower cubicle from whoever is on the other side.
Something tumbles to the tiled floor with a clatter, and a curse snaps out.
“You okay in there?” I ask, a smile curling my lips up.
“Dammit,” a low hushed tone growls.
Hammond?
“You good, Cap?”
“Don’t call me that, Tennison. And I’m fine.” The words are ragged.
O . . . kay.
The water bursts to life in his stall, and I return to my routine. Hair, body, soak. Bliss.
I’m halfway through drying off when the alarm blares overhead.
Again.
No . . .
Towel wrapped around my body, I gather my belongings and rush from the cubicle. Right into a warm, wet chest.
“Shit!” My belongings slip through my fingers as I stumble a pace backward. One hand clinging to the towel covering me, I glance up at Hammond. His bare chest still has remnants of soap on it. The soap that is hanging from a rope clutched in his hand. A pink unicorn...
What the hell?
“Didn’t take you for the soap-on-a-rope kind of guy, Ca—Hammond.” All I can do is stare at it, cheeks alight with heat as he hovers. As if he, too, is dazed.
