The Fireman's Feisty BBW

by Ella Roane

  Now I’m hearing the same thing about my new love, Brad. Dammit if I didn’t have a type!

  My head feels light. The world wants to spin and shift, but I close my eyes against it.

  “What have I done?” I whisper. The words were meant for me, but that doesn’t keep them from being caught by Marcus’s ears.

  “You’re in love?” he asks.

  I nod, keeping my eyes closed and the side of my head pressed into my palm. I need its stability. I need a hug, but I have to be strong. I must do that for myself and for my future.

  “How? You just met the guy.”

  Marcus’s words ring true with the uncertainty that rages within my own head.

  How!

  How can I love a man I don’t even know? How can he already feel like he’s a part of me? Why is it that growing old with him translates into unimaginable happiness for me?

  I don’t understand!

  “I always thought you’d end up with Todd,” Marcus says. “You guys… you’re peas and carrots.”

  I open my eyes and lift my head from my hand to look at him. “Huh?” He isn’t making any sense.

  “Peas and carrots,” Marcus says again as if saying it again will clear up the mystery of his words. “They go together—but they’re different, you know? One’s a little bright, colorful, and sweet. The other one is wholesome and hearty.”

  Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, but I’m still struggling to catch on to what he’s saying. I wag my finger at him. “And am I the carrot or the peas?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Marcus answers, rolling his eyes with exasperation.

  “One’s sweet and colorful; the other’s wholesome and hearty. Am I the sweet one or the dull, wholesome one?” I snap in a manner that is not sweet and is not dull.

  Marcus narrows his eyes. “You’re the ginger root grated and dumped in with the other two.”

  I throw my hands up into the air. “You’re not making any sense.”

  “My point was that you two compliment each other well. Yin and yang and all that stuff.”

  “Yin my ass,” I mutter, then take a deep breath and blow it out slowly, closing my eyes. I'm being mean to Marcus, and he’s done absolutely nothing to deserve it. He’s a trusted friend, and he’s trying to help. “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “You’re being supportive and I’m…”

  “Shitting on it?”

  I nod, grimace, and turn my head to stare out the window. “Yeah, that. I just…” My words trail off. My heart hurts. “I just can’t believe I’ve made the same mistake all over again.” My voice breaks as the words tumble out.

  “Todd was never a mistake,” Marcus says softly. “So maybe it didn’t work out, that doesn’t mean the two of you didn’t love each other.”

  My gaze snaps to Marcus. “That’s true. It’s so true. I loved him so much. I just… couldn’t. He wouldn’t grow up. He thought life was some game. He thought he was invincible. But I grew up. I knew he never would. I know he’s gonna get himself killed. I…” I shake my head. When I speak again, my voice is barely more than a whisper. “I just couldn’t give my life to him, waiting around for the day he figures out that he’s not Peter Pan. He can’t fly.” Tears fill my eyes. “He’s gonna kill himself some day, Marcus, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I had to leave him.”

  “And you think things will be different with Brad?” He asks the question gently.

  I swipe my hands across my cheeks to brush away my tears. “I don’t know. I hope so. It feels different with Brad. It’s like… well, I can feel it. He knows he’s not Peter Pan. He knows he can’t fly—and he knows no one else can fly either. So he’s determined to be there to catch them. He’s different than Todd. He knows you don’t have a lot of lives sitting to the side, waiting to be tapped in when you fall. He knows life isn’t a game. He’s not pushing the boundaries because he wants to see where the edge is. He’s just trying to save others.”

  “Mmmm, that’s not like anyone I know,” Marcus says with a smile. He gives my arm a tap with his elbow, which earns him a smile from me in return.

  “Hey,” I say, “I’m not sitting in this emergency batmobile alone.”

  “Guilty.”

  We share a smile, then sit in amiable silence. Eventually, I ask, “How are things with you and Chuck?” Marcus rarely ever speaks about his feelings for anyone, but this time he doesn’t have to. It’s clear that Chuck is dear to him. All of his other relationships have really just been hookups in one form or another, but with Chuck, I get the feeling that things are different.

  Marcus shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. “Chuck’s doing good.”

  I stay silent, waiting for Marcus to say more. When he doesn’t, I edge my curiosity up closer to outright nosiness. “And what about you and Chuck,” I ask, being sure to emphasize the connection between them.

  Marcus shrugs again. “He’s good. I’m good. Everything’s good.”

  My mouth drops open a little. The shit just had me lay my heart out on a plate so that we could poke and prod it together, but now that it’s his heart, he’s playing dumb. He knows what I’m asking. I know he knows. What’s more, I’m pretty sure he knows I know he knows.

  “Huh uh,” I say.

  He looks at me with feigned confusion in his eyes. “What?”

  “You know what!” There is no way I’m going to let him get around being open and honest with me. He’s my partner. I trust him with my life. He’s seen me at my best and my worst, and I’ve seen him at the same. I want to know what’s going on with him. I want to know if he needs my encouragement and support. He’s given me his. I won’t let him walk a solo life pretending everything’s okay when it’s not… and I’ve got a feeling it’s not.

  Marcus shrugs again, but he drops his gaze to look at his hands. I can see that he wants to tell me more. He wants to share.

  “Does Chuck know how you feel about him?” I ask gently.

  Marcus shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. We’re not a match.”

  I don’t say anything. I let the silence pull more out of him.

  “He’s not a match for me,” he finally adds.

  “You light up around him,” I say, gently refuting his words.

  Marcus lifts his gaze to look at me. “Chuck is straight,” he blurts out, his tone harsh.

  My brows go up, and my mouth drops open in a silent ohhhhh. “I, uh, thought the two of you… I mean…” My voice trails off. I’d thought the two of them had enjoyed a fling. More than a fling. I’d thought they’d had a relationship—one that was loose and undefined, but still a relationship. One that included hot times between the sheets.

  Marcus leans his head back and stares at the ceiling of the cab. “We did,” he says, “but it doesn’t matter. He says his attraction to me is just a fluke.” He swallows hard, then adds, “and he hates me for it.”

  And I thought my love life was complicated. Suddenly being in love with someone I just met—someone who professes to love me too—doesn’t sound so bad.

  I give Marcus’s arm a compassionate squeeze and then lean my head back to stare at the ceiling with him.

  It hurts that I can’t do anything to fix his love life. Although, maybe I could introduce him to someone new.

  But no… That won’t work. Marcus has no problem getting dates. Lots of dates. Lots of short, hot flings. What he doesn’t have is someone to connect with beyond the physical. Marcus needs someone to care about, someone new to care about, but he only cares about Chuck… who’s straight.

  Dang it. It’s a round robin. A vicious circle. And there’s nothing I can do that will help him.

  I hate that. So much.

  And I hate that I’m going to have to break Todd’s heart all over again. He’s still in love with me. I see it in his eyes every time he comes to find me.

  And I hate to break his heart because I still love him, too. But that’s not enough. I need more. I want more. I want someone who can walk forward with me into a future
that’s not earmarked for tragedy. I want someone who loves me enough to choose living life over chasing death.

  I need Brad. I love him.

  My stomach clenches, and my chest aches. Tears sting my eyes. I think of the fires that Brad runs into. I think of what could happen to him.

  Maybe he’s not chasing and taunting death the way Todd does. Maybe Brad helps people escape death, but isn’t the end the same? Doesn’t death eventually win?

  I can’t do it. I won’t do it!

  I won’t put myself through losing someone I love with all my being. I won’t sit by and wait for the inevitable to happen so much sooner than it should.

  I have to break it off with Brad.

  I need to do that tonight… before he steals my heart away so much that I can never get it back.

  Chapter 15

  Stella

  “What do I do?” I whine to no one but myself. I’m standing in nothing but my bra and panties looking at two outfits laid out on my bed. I’ve got my phone lying next to them as a third option. An ignored option. Actually, I know that using the phone to call off my date with Brad would be useless. In fact, it would be less than useless. It would arm him with the time he’d need to forge his argument as he sped over here on his ridiculously sexy motorcycle.

  I know I must end things with him, but that doesn’t stop my excitement from growing. A gorgeous, sexy, capable man wants nothing more than to take me out on a date.

  No… that’s not quite right.

  A gorgeous, sexy, capable man wants to spend the rest of his life with me. He wants to marry me. He wants to build his life around me.

  A ball forms in my stomach as I face what is quickly becoming an impossible decision. I need to tell Brad that there is—and will never be—an us. We have no future together. Ever. I’m unwilling to tie myself to someone who has such a personal relationship with the Grim Reaper. I won’t do it. I can’t.

  “The blue wrap-around,” I say, looking down at my chosen outfit options. The words came out of my mouth without any conscious thought. It’s clear there’s a part of me in charge that very much wants to see Brad again—a part of me that isn’t taking my no as an answer.

  I sigh. My shoulders sag.

  I have two options. I can go out with a sexy beast of a man who has declared his undying love for me. Or, I can sit at home, eat ice cream, and second guess myself into a good ol’ cry.

  “The first option,” I say. “A lot more fun.” My girl bits spasm in anticipation of the “fun” they hope is coming. “Behave!” I tell them, then wonder if I should do some old school prep by taking care of myself before my date arrives.

  I glance at the clock and frown. There’s no time. Brad’s due to arrive in just over half an hour, and I haven’t even shaved my legs. I might be planning on sending Brad packing, but I’m not going to do it with stubbly legs, by golly.

  A girl’s got to have her standards, and mine include being seen as nothing short of a goddess by Brad.

  I fly into action. Shower, shave, goddess make-up, and a glorious hair blowout. By the time I wrap my navy blue dress around my curves and secure it in place, I’m ready for a glam photoshoot. It’s my favorite dress. It hugs me in the best ways possible and has a slit up each thigh. A girl could do high kicks in this dress without ever getting a crease. She could also straddle the tight waist of a man needing to be ridden mercilessly.

  I get one foot into my four-inch heels before I hear a knock at my door. They’re strappy sandals, so it requires more work than simply sliding my foot in.

  I do a one-foot hop while trying to do a mid-air strapping in of my other foot, then come to my senses and walk to the door with one shoe on and one shoe off. Brad will just have to deal with the slight imperfection of what I know to be my otherwise perfect look.

  I throw open the door with as much confidence as a one-shoed girl can muster. I’ve got a huge smile on my face, but it instantly morphs into a scowl when I see who’s standing in front of me. “What’re you doing here?” I ask.

  “Just came by to ask for some help,” Todd says. His big toothy grin doesn’t waver. In fact, he looks a little amused as his gaze travels me up and down.

  I’m looking him up and down as well, my scowl deepening as I do. I was feeling smug about how good I look in my dress, but those feelings are taken down a notch as I take in how good—how very, very good—Todd looks. I’ve never seen him dressed this way before. He’s wearing weathered jeans that time and wear have molded to all the best things about his body. There are shine-polished light brown dress shoes on his feet, and a brown tweed vest frames his chest under which is a crisply pressed white button-up shirt.

  Not only does Todd look good. He looks—dare I say it—casually professional. Effortlessly professional. Sexy-as-hell professional. Dressed as he is, I could see him standing at the front of a huge auditorium giving an important lecture.

  “Help with what? You look perfect,” I blurt, then feel my cheeks heat with what I know is a blush.

  Damn it!

  Todd’s big smile turns into a cheeky, lopsided grin. “Perfect, huh?”

  I roll my eyes and double down on feigning nonchalance toward him. Just because he still gets to me doesn’t mean he has to know he still gets to me.

  “What do you want?” I ask again.

  He holds up his hands. In one is a long tie; in the other is an actual bowtie. “Needed some fashion advice.”

  “Since when?” I ask, suspicion creeping in. He’d never once asked me about what he should wear when we were together. As long as his ass wasn’t hanging out, he didn’t care.

  “Since I got an appointment to talk to the loan officer at the bank.”

  “Loan officer,” I repeat. Suspicion gives way to concern. “You okay? Everything okay?” I know his mom had struggled with an illness in the past, one bad enough and expensive enough that it nearly landed her and her kids out on the street.

  “Everything’s good,” he says. “Actually, it’s great. I’m launching my own business. I’ve got a couple of backers lined up. Now I need a loan to get me the rest of the way.”

  “What kind of business?” I ask, barely hiding the incredulity in my voice.

  “An extreme sports business. Too many events are thrown together with spit and a paperclip. The equipment’s often shoddy. Somebody’s gonna get killed. I want to start a business for adrenaline junkies, one that ups that chances that people will be able to still walk away at the end of the day.”

  Ohhh…

  I look at the long necktie and bowtie again. “And you want to know which one will impress the loan officer the most?”

  Todd nods. His face practically glows with happiness, but I feel like I have a glop of sickness growing in my stomach. He and I break up… then he gets his life together. Or at least makes an effort.

  Anger surges up within me like a runaway wave. Breaking up with Todd had been the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Now that we’re done, he’s finally finding some focus.

  It’s not fair, and I hate him for it.

  I have no idea if that shows in my expression. Todd isn’t paying any attention to my reaction to his news. Instead, his eyes are on my feet. I’ve got one shoe on, and the other shoe is dangling from my hand.

  Todd drops to one knee and plucks the dangling shoe from me before giving all his focus to slipping it on my foot. His familiar hand wraps around my ankle as he guides the shoe into place. Once on, he gently buckles the straps.

  Every ounce of anger and hatred threatening to consume me dissipates.

  Poof.

  Gone.

  When he stands, I swallow all my ego down and answer his question. “The bowtie,” I say. “It takes more effort, more care, to do. Almost no one does bowties anymore. It’ll help you stand out—in a good way.”

  “Thanks, Stell,” he says, his smile gentle and his eyes warm.

  I want to hate him for becoming a better man after I left him. I want to hate him
for becoming a man I might’ve stayed with. But I can’t. It’s not in me. He’s got a brilliant future ahead of him—without me.

  It’s time to wish him well and let him go.

  “I’m proud of you,” I say.

  His smile is shy as he shifts his gaze to the ground. “Thanks, Stell,” he says, softly.

  “C’mere,” I say, taking the bowtie from his hand. He steps closer, and I fit the band around the back of his neck, under his shirt collar. It takes me a couple of tries to tie it, but I finally finesse a bow that looks nice. “There you go.”

  I start to step back away from him, but his arm slides around my waist before I do. He pulls us together, abdomen to abdomen, while I do my best to lean away.

  Why not? The question rings inside my head, and I understand the context. Why not get back together with Todd? If I’m not going to give Brad a chance, then why not? If Todd has changed…

  And there it is. There’s the rub. People don’t change. They might put on a different pair of shoes and walk a different path now and then, but they don’t change. Todd is an adrenaline junkie. It’s who he is. He once had to sit out from extreme sports for two months while his tailbone healed. He got so depressed, his doctor wanted him to go on medication.

  No. Todd’s not going to change.

  He is who he is, and I am who I am: a woman who wants a man who loves her enough to make growing old together a priority.

  That’s not Todd, so there is no us.

  The low rumble of a motorcycle reaches my ears. I lift my chin to see over Todd’s shoulder and spot Brad’s motorcycle making a graceful, fluid, curving turn onto my street. He leaps off and removes his helmet. Then he’s at the curb before I even manage to get untangled from Todd’s arms. I know that it shouldn’t matter, given that I’m ending things with Brad tonight, but “shoulds” have no control over the flock of butterflies flapping around inside my stomach. That’s what Brad’s arrival does to me, and I suddenly wonder if I’ll have the strength to tell him there can be no him and me.

  “Let go,” I whisper hiss to Todd, but his devilish grin is his only response.