by J. H. Croix
I crossed over, holding my hand out because I didn't know what else to do. Harlow shook her head. “Oh no, you get a hug. Women firefighters have to hang together.”
She gave me a quick squeeze, and I was laughing when she stepped back. “It’s not fight club, but hug club,” I teased.
Susannah closed the door. “Sounds about right to me.” She sat down on a bench across from me, announcing, “We need to have girl talk.”
Harlow immediately sat down beside me. “What's up? I'm totally out of the loop.”
“Well, first off, this is Paisley. She’s on the new crew that Graham's heading up.”
“More firefighters? Just what this town needs,” Harlow teased.
Susannah smiled over at me. “I am so glad you got hired. It was down to Phoebe and me around here after Harlow left.”
“You used to be a firefighter?”
Harlow nodded. “Sure did. I loved it.”
“Then she fell in love,” Susannah teased.
Harlow’s cheeks went a little pink. “I did. I got married, and now we’re maybe thinking about a baby.” Her gaze bounced to Susannah. “I don't even know how you manage this job with a toddler.”
Susannah shrugged as though it was no big deal. "I try to act as if I have it together, but most of the time, I don't. I've discovered being a parent is constantly lowering the bar for myself. I know if I didn't have Ward to help, it would feel beyond overwhelming sometimes, and I couldn't do this job."
“Ward’s awesome. He's totally got it bad for you,” Harlow gushed with a grin.
Susannah flushed. “He still doesn't love it that I’m on the town crew. We'd never see each other if we were on different hotshot crews, or we'd be gone at the same time if we were on the same one. This way, I'm always here. When he's not out in the backcountry, we see each other all the time. How is Max?”
Harlow smiled. “He's good. He's with me and chatting out front. He pretends it intimidates him to come here.”
“He’s not a firefighter?” I interjected.
“He’s a tech billionaire.” Harlow rolled her eyes. “I still can't believe we got married. Enough about me. What's the girl talk about?”
Susannah immediately looked toward me, her eyebrows hitching up. “I don't actually know, but you were almost drooling over Russell out there. What the hell is going on?”
I was pretty sure my blush had receded by then, but my cheeks were fiery hot in an instant. I stared at her, swallowing. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, don't try to play dumb with me.” Susannah actually wagged her finger, her strawberry blond curls bouncing when she laughed.
Harlow looked from her to me. “I feel like she's put you on the spot, and you just met me.”
I rolled my eyes and let out a sigh. “I've only been here for a month. It was much better when Russell and I were fighting.”
“You were fighting?”
“Russell's a pretty easy guy to deal with,” Susannah offered.
“Have I met Russell?” Harlow asked.
Susannah shrugged. “I don't know. He got hired on to the new crew too, but he's from Willow Brook. He’s a standard-issue Alaska guy—tall, strong, and firefighter hot. He’s not my type, but he’s totally Paisley's type.”
Putting my face in my hands, I let out a groan. Harlow reached over and rubbed her hand up and down my back. I decided then she was a good person. “It'll be okay. Susannah fell for her boss, and they were on a crew together. She cannot give you shit about this, trust me.”
I lifted my head. “Really? Obviously, I know you're both firefighters, but I didn’t know he was your crew superintendent before.”
Susannah simply shrugged. “It used to embarrass me, but I'm way over it now.”
I looked between them, deciding to abandon all attempts at playing it cool. “What do you know about Russell?”
Susannah laughed. “Well, almost everything. We grew up in Willow Brook together. He's a nice guy. Do you just have the hots for him, or do you have feelings for him?”
“I'm not sure,” I answered, which was the truth even though I didn't want to admit it.
“That makes things complicated,” Harlow offered.
I sighed and leaned back against the lockers. Lifting one hand idly, I caught an open locker door and traced my fingers along the metal edge. The door to the locker room opened again. This time, Phoebe appeared and looked amongst us as she let the door fall closed behind her.
“Well, hey. What's up?”
Susannah patted the bench beside her. “Have a seat. Girl talk. Everything said in this room is in the cone.”
“The cone?” I prompted.
Phoebe laughed. “This must be about you and Russell. He couldn’t stop staring at you.”
Susannah grinned. “I just saw her drooling over his chest.”
I groaned and closed my eyes. “This better stay in the cone, whatever the hell that is.”
When I opened them again, Susannah placed her palm over her chest. “It’s the cone of silence. We won’t say a word. If you want, we can even call Maisie back for a huddle.”
“Please don't.” I shook my head. “I can't deal with it. It's too much.”
Susannah looked toward Phoebe. “Paisley was just asking me what I knew about Russell.”
Phoebe caught my eyes. “We both went to school with him since kindergarten. Russell's a great guy. His mom is friends with mine. The thing with his dad was a heartbreaker last year.”
“What happened?” I asked, honestly curious.
“He was on the town crew for years. His gear broke, and he fell off a cliff when he was out climbing. Russell arrived on the scene after it happened.”
“Oh, God,” I breathed, pressing my hand on my chest over my heart.
“It was awful. His mom was devastated,” Susannah added.
“He's been pretty quiet about it. As far as I know, he’s never really had a serious relationship. He’s not a jerk, but he is a flirt. Has anything happened? And what do you want?” Phoebe asked.
“Definitely no complications,” I said firmly, avoiding her other question.
“Well, you might not want to look at him when you're at work then,” Susannah suggested, her voice lilting up at the end.
I burst out laughing, and I knew my face was bright red. “Okay, no looking at him. I can handle that.”
At that moment, there was a knock on the door, and a man's voice filtered through. “Hey, it's Graham. I'm supposed to let Harlow know that Maisie wants her to come out front now that she's off the phone.”
Harlow chuckled as she stood. “Can we get together while I'm in town?”
“Of course! How long will you be here?” Susannah asked.
“A week.”
“Let’s make it happen. We can meet at Wildlands or do cards one night.”
Before another word was said, the door burst open, and Maisie was standing there. She snatched Harlow into a hug. “You just waved and walked by me,” she protested when she stepped back.
“You were on the phone,” Harlow explained.
Maisie grinned. “I know. Moving on, random gossip nugget.” She glanced between Susannah and Phoebe. “Who's Mae Townsend?”
Rowan Cole happened to be walking by in the hallway and came to a quick stop. Maisie gave him a puzzled look. “What?”
“Nothing.” Rowan shook his head quickly and kept walking.
Maisie pursed her lips and arched a brow. “That was not nothing. Anyway, who the hell is Mae Townsend?”
Susannah answered, “She grew up in Willow Brook, went to college in North Carolina, and only comes back to town for visits. Why do you ask?”
“Apparently, her grandmother is really sick.”
“Oh, no. I'm so sorry about that.” Susannah looked amongst us. “Her grandmother is Carrie Dodge’s sister. Pretty private and even bossier than Carrie.”
Maisie’s brow furrowed. “Oh, wow. I’ll have to check on Carrie.” The dispatch line r
ang through Maisie’s headphones, which she held in her hand. “I gotta get back out front.” She looked over at me. “And Russell keeps staring at your ass.” At that, she hustled out while putting her headset on and answering the call.
Phoebe, Susannah, and Harlow burst into laughter. Meanwhile, my cheeks were hot all over again.
Chapter Twenty-One
Russell
“You need to stop staring at my ass,” Paisley announced.
“Excuse me?”
I turned from where I was sautéeing chicken on the stove. I adjusted the flame to a lower heat and covered the pan. She was sitting on a stool by the counter with her legs crossed and a glass of wine in hand. Her auburn hair was damp from a shower she’d taken after we got home, which I'd shared with her. It had been a most excellent shower. She was wearing one of my T-shirts. I didn't mind admitting I fucking loved seeing her wear my shirt with her leggings and a pair of fuzzy socks with penguins on them. She was adorably sexy.
“I said that you need to stop staring at my ass.”
“How would you know I'm staring at your ass?” I countered.
That view was the back of her, so I thought I had a point. Of course, I knew I stared at her ass because it was too tempting not to.
“Because Maisie and Phoebe both commented on it. I'm not putting all the blame on you. Susannah noticed me staring at your chest, so we kind of need to work on that.”
“It's hard not to look at you,” I said, deciding to go for complete honesty.
Her cheeks went pink, and her lashes swept down. When her gaze lifted to mine again, I wanted to kiss her. I couldn't get enough of her. Having her here, right here, in my house was almost too much. The more time I had with her, the more I wanted her. This was a new experience for me. I’d never lived with a woman I was having crazy hot sex with on the regular.
* * *
“Staring at your ass is better than being an ass to you," I quipped.
Paisley rolled her eyes. I chuckled and turned to check on the chicken. After another stir, I added in some seasonings and rice.
“Russell, I don't want us to be an issue at work.”
“We're not going to be an issue at work. I will stop staring at any part of you, I swear. At least not when anyone’s around,” I said as I turned back to her.
She rolled her eyes again. “You need to keep your shirt on.”
“Sometimes, I take my shirt off when I'm working out,” I protested. “All the other guys do. Do you stare at their chests?”
“No. This has never been an issue for me at work, like ever. And there are men everywhere,” she said rather vehemently.
The house phone rang, the sound jangling loudly in the room. Our heads swiveled to look at it together. “Don't answer it. Please,” Paisley said.
I shrugged. “Okay.” I rounded the kitchen island and rested my hands on either side of her, curling them around the edge of the counter. “What's up with your brother anyway? You don't talk about him.”
It was as if clouds passed over Paisley's eyes. She chewed on her bottom lip and shrugged. “I appreciate you asking, but I can't talk about it.”
I didn’t like her answer, which didn't make sense. We said no strings. Yet here I was, feeling hurt. Because this woman—who I wasn't supposed to want and who I didn't want things to get complicated with—was telling me she didn't want to confide in me about something that obviously hurt her.
I felt like she didn't trust me, and that hurt. But I didn't push. Not now. I stepped back, striving to keep my tone nonchalant, as I said, “Understood. If you ever want to talk, just let me know. It doesn't mean anything more than that. I try to be there for my friends.”
As soon as I said that, I knew two things. One, I was lying because I felt a lot more for Paisley than friendship. And two, describing her as nothing more than a friend hurt her.
A different kind of shadow flickered over her eyes now. I reminded myself she was the one who said she wanted ground rules. She took a gulp of her wine and nodded. “I know. You're a good friend.”
I busied myself by checking on the chicken, which was pointless because it needed more time since I'd added the rice. I finally placed the lid over the pan again, asking, “What do you mean I’m a good friend?”
“I've noticed around the station and in the field. All the guys trust you. That's all.”
My throat felt tight, and I didn't know why. Suddenly, I thought of my father and how he always got my mother small gifts at random times—flowers or something. Why the hell was I thinking of my father in relation to this conversation with Paisley? Instantly I heard my mother's voice. “I want you to have something like what I had with your father.”
My mom had said something along those lines to me probably once a month in the last year. Paisley and I weren't like my parents. We were way too fresh for that, but she was the first woman I'd ever wanted more with. What a clusterfuck this was. We weren't together. We were roommates, and she would argue the technicality of that. I needed to remember that.
The phone had gone silent, and it didn't ring again. We shifted gears and ate dinner while I had a beer. We played a game of Scrabble. That was something I'd done with my parents growing up, and Paisley loved it. She wasn't a huge fan of TV. Personally, I would watch just about any sport if it was on, but I wasn't a diehard fan of anything.
We behaved like a couple, except I kept having to remind myself we weren't. We were often tangled up between the sheets in one of our beds, and we usually slept together, which was maybe not too smart. I was growing to like it. A lot.
After that tense conversation, we chilled out. Paisley was the perfect distraction from my thoughts. I didn't have to think about my feelings when I was buried in her silky, clenching core, and when she was shuddering against me. That was the only time she let down her defenses. She was a guarded person in general. I sensed she didn't know what to make of the women around the station trying to befriend her, but she was going along with it. She was friendly, albeit a little reserved.
But when she was naked, and I was chasing her scattered freckles with my hands and my lips and my tongue, she let go. I loved seeing that side of her. I was starting to feel restless with the secrecy of it all.
The next day, she left to do a grocery run in Anchorage and even offered to get some things for me. I gave her cash and a list because she was a terrible shopper without a list. I fixed a few things around the house while she was gone and followed up with the guy replacing the water heater in the basement before winter. We were swapping it out with one of those highly efficient propane hot water heaters. We already had separate propane heaters for the different floors. That way, we only had to heat the space we needed rather than the entire house.
After the water heater guy left, I paid some bills and found myself sitting at the kitchen table, drumming my fingertips restlessly. I kept looking at the clock and realized I was waiting for Paisley to get back even though she’d told me she'd be gone all day because she was going with Phoebe and Susannah. I made another pot of coffee, deciding I would head into the station and work out. The phone rang just after I hit the start button on the coffeemaker. I knew how sensitive Paisley was to that house phone. I glanced over at it suspiciously before deciding to answer it. “What the hell?” I murmured to myself. If it was her brother again, maybe I could get some answers from him.
“Hello?”
“Hi, is Paisley around?”
It was definitely her brother. Maybe I'd only answered two other calls from him, but I recognized his voice now.
“She’s not around. Can I take a message?”
“Yeah. Could you let her know her brother called?”
“Sure. Mind if I ask a question?”
“No, not at all,” he said easily.
“What's your name?”
“Ryder?” He chuckled. “And you are?”
“Russell Dane. How come you don't call Paisley’s cell phone?” I thought that was the most obvious q
uestion in the fucking universe at this point.
“I prefer landlines. The connection’s better,” he replied.
“Bullshit. Something's up. Every time you call, Paisley gets all stressed out,” I said flatly, my protectiveness flaring.
“Does she now?” Her brother's tone changed subtly, although I sensed he was trying to keep it cool.
“Yeah. Is there anything I should be worried about?”
“Nah. Do me a favor and keep an eye on her, though. I’m just a guy, making sure his little sister's okay.”
“Do you even know how I know Paisley?”
“Yeah, you work with her, and she rents a room in your house.”
“Look, if you're up to something that might affect Paisley, why don't you keep her out of it?”
I had no fucking clue what was going on, and I was honestly shooting in the dark here, but my spidey sense was tingling.
“Nothing to worry about. I just like to check on my sister and touch base every now and then. If you could give her that message, that'd be great.”
“Sure thing.”
I hung up the phone then, staring at it for a long moment after I did. As I turned away, my fingers itched to pick up my own cell phone and call Paisley to demand some answers on this. I know she wouldn’t appreciate it, and that was putting it mildly. We were getting along a lot better, ever since we turned the tension between us into a blazing fire. But I knew Paisley had a stubborn streak. It was kind of a given as a hotshot firefighter. You had to have a high tolerance for danger and the willingness to stand your ground at times when other people might be more sensible and leave. Paisley had that in spades.
As soon as my coffee was ready, I turned it off and decided to leave it for now. I was going to do a little reconnaissance on my own at Firehouse Café instead. I could stop in and get some coffee, then go work out. Plus, Janet's coffee was always better than mine.
Chapter Twenty-Two
