MIKE The Firefighters of Station 8

by Samanthya Wyatt

  “What?” Laredo called from the corner. “Mike get an ass chewing? What’d you do?”

  Leave it to Laredo to pick up a dead ball and run with it.

  “No, I didn’t get my ass chewed. I’m going to have to teach pup here some manners.”

  “I didn’t do nothing,” Cooper said, throwing up his hands in defense.

  “Wait till Jared—”

  Mike interrupted Laredo. “You yahoos better straighten up. We got a kid coming to the station.”

  “A kid? Whose? Yours?”

  Mike glared at Cooper.

  “When did you have a kid?” Laredo chimed in.

  “Why do I bother?” Mike said, rolling his eyes.

  “All right. All right.” Laredo got serious. “Who’s the kid?”

  “A boy I met in ER. About ten years old.”

  “Is he okay?” Cooper asked.

  “You wouldn’t believe this kid. Fell out of a tree onto a saw. Put a gash in his leg and walked into his house calm as a cucumber.”

  “That’s the way my kid will be.” Cooper beamed.

  “Your kid? Better have someone else raise him then.”

  Mike walked off while Laredo and Cooper went at each other. He had other things on his mind.

  Like a sexy blonde with a great body.

  Cassie might have behaved pretty funny last night, but thinking back, she looked like the answer to all his fantasies. Limp in his arms, she’d teased him, tempted him, and if she hadn’t been drunk, he might have had one hell of a night. But he didn’t take advantage of helpless women. Even if Cassie struck him as one of the strongest women he’d ever met.

  She’d needed him.

  That gave him pause. He’d never been needed before. Plenty of women had come on to him and he’d gladly taken them up on their offer. But that was only sex. What he experienced with Cassie surpassed anything he’d encountered with other women. He’d liked watching out for her, protecting her, without sex being on the agenda.

  He wanted to see her again. Go out with her. Talk to her. Just be with her.

  He snatched the phone and punched the numbers before he had a chance to change his mind.

  “Hello?” Her soft voice greeted him, causing a stiffening behind the zipper of his jeans.

  “Uh, hi Cassie.” A gasp and the sound of scuffle made him wonder what the hell she’d been doing. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.” He heard water running. “I spilled my coffee.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Just me being clumsy. How are you?”

  “I’m fine.” What the hell? Would they discuss the weather next?

  “I wanted to check up and see if my special potion helped.”

  “You should bottle and sell that stuff. I bounced right back.”

  “How about Tammy? She okay?”

  “With two kids, she’s doesn’t have time to suffer. She hides it well.”

  Shit. Here goes.

  “Was she mad about Shep taking her home? I promise you, she had nothing to worry about. Shep is a real gentleman.”

  “That was the problem.” He thought he heard her mumble, but it was so low, he couldn’t be right. “No, she’s not mad.”

  “The thing is, Shep wondered.” Christ, Mike felt like a damned kid passing notes in school. “Shep wondered if he should call her.”

  “That would be great. Tammy would welcome a call from Shep.”

  I’ll be damned.

  “Uh, look.” He shoved a hand through his short-cropped hair. “I’d like to see you again. Maybe you’d like to go out or something.” Christ. He was bad at this. How long since he’d asked a girl on a date? Picking up women at bars didn’t count.

  “I’d love to.”

  That was fast. Some of the anxiety drifted from his stomach.

  “Or maybe you could come to my place for dinner,” she added.

  That sounded just fine and dandy to him. More make out sessions on her couch. And more sex in her bed. He put the reins on his testosterone. Cassie was worth more than a roll in the sac. He wondered at his need to impress her.

  “I’m at the station. I’ll be here until late this evening. How about tomorrow? I’m not the fine dining type, but I would like to take you to dinner. Maybe we could take a drive over the Blue Ridge Parkway.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Hot damn. He’d see her tomorrow.

  ***

  The bartender lined up two shot glasses and poured a generous amount into each. He placed one in front of Seth and the other in front of the man sitting at his side. Poor shmuck. Had that long face look. The kind a man had after a woman took him for a ride.

  Not Seth. He was too smart for women who thought they could get their hooks into him. Nodding a thank you to the bartender, he picked up the glass and swallowed the contents with a quick toss of his head, then relished the burn in his gut.

  He turned his attention to the crowd filtering into the bar. He thought back to other Saturday nights, long ago, when he’d sneak out of the house to follow his brother. If their dad had caught either one of them, there would have been hell to pay.

  His brother had caught him once and that was the end of that. He’d preached a sermon about how Seth should follow the rules, but never paid any attention to them himself. Trouble trailed Shawn like the whirl of a tornado. Seth often wondered if Shawn had carried a demon on his shoulder. Pushing him. Driving him. Seth hadn’t seen his brother in years. If Shawn had lived, if they met today, would he be as crazy as he’d been back then? Would he raise as much hell now as he had at seventeen?

  Didn’t matter anymore. Besides, Shawn hadn’t been crazy. He’d just liked to let loose. Anything was fair game. Shawn had managed to make it in the big corporate world, but Seth doubted his brother would have changed. Shawn always did what he wanted. Took what he wanted.

  Until the day a cocksucker put a blade in him.

  Shawn would never have been in that hellhole if it weren’t for that rat bastard.

  Seth’s grief fueled his anger.

  Revenge.

  It would be sweet.

  With a circle of his finger, he signaled the bartender for another round.

  Chapter 17

  A low rumble sounded outside Cassie’s condo. She peeked out the front window and caught her breath. A shiny, black, convertible Mustang roared into a parking space. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from what was obviously a collector’s car. A 1969, if she had her guess.

  She watched Mike’s large frame as he crawled from the low car, thinking of the major difference between it and his big four-wheel-drive truck. He pulled his phone from his pocket.

  Cassie ran to the bathroom to check her appearance and her cell phone rang. Retracing her steps, she grabbed it and gave an out-of-breath hello.

  “Hi yourself. Are you ready? I don’t want to leave my car unattended for long.”

  “What year is it?”

  “You see me?”

  “I heard you first.” His laugh sizzled her insides. “Give me two minutes.” She ended the call before he could say another word. She gathered her hair up in a ponytail, snatched her purse, made sure she had her keys, and slammed the door behind her.

  Mike leaned against the rear fender, a big smile and a pair of sunglass on his face.

  “Hello, beautiful.”

  “Hello, handsome. Think I can catch a ride?”

  “Your wish is my command.”

  He opened the passenger door and waited for her to get inside. While he sauntered to the driver’s door, Cassie ran her fingers over the smooth, red leather interior.

  “It’s beautiful, Mike.”

  “1969,” he said, and she realized he’d answered the question she’d asked on the phone.

  “428 or 390?”

  “You know cars?”

  “I know Mustangs. A sixty-nine fastback is my favorite body style.”

  “428 Cobra jet with a four-speed transmission.”

 
“Smooth. There have been a lot of changes in body styles over the years. I’m glad Ford brought back the 1969 design for the newer models. Where did you get your love for Mustangs?”

  “My dad. He liked hot cars. How about you?”

  “My uncle. He had a sixty-four and a half, a 1969 Mach I and a 1970 302 Boss.”

  Mike whistled through his teeth. “You do know your cars.” He turned the key and the engine cranked right over, purring like a lion.

  “Buckle up.”

  She quickly obeyed, then leaned back, enjoying the wind blowing a few wisps of hair about her face.

  The blue sky held few clouds and the sun’s rays flickered through the trees as Mike maneuvered down the open road. A glorious day for a ride in a convertible. He followed Route 250 up Skyline Drive and turned onto the Blue Ridge Parkway. He shifted the gears with precision, very different from her days of driving a stick shift. She remembered her first time, learning to drive a standard transmission on her friend’s car. In a mall parking lot. After a few jumps and leaps, Cassie had gotten the hang of it.

  No communication was necessary. Every now and then Mike would turn to her and give her one of his sensual grins. He popped in a CD and turned up the volume so the music could be heard over the engine and the roaring wind. Rock and roll from the eighties blasted from the speakers. Another thing they had in common. She loved the oldies music.

  Cassie leaned her head against the headrest, listening to the songs, appreciating the scenery, relishing not having a care in the world. Ahh, the freedom of just being. No restraints, no conditions, no thought, no obstacles, no worries.

  Mike pointed out a few landmarks and when they hit a straight stretch, he hit the gas. The engine revved, and her excitement right along with it. Mike smiled with pride. His handsome mouth tilted up at the corners, making her heart flip and triggering flickers of desire dancing in her belly. Could a man be more perfect?

  An hour later, he pulled into Pecks BBQ.

  “I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed anything more.” She took his hand as he helped her from the car. She’d been excited to ride in a collector’s car, but the tingles that swept up her arm just from his touch had her electrified.

  “I get the same feeling every time I take her out.”

  “Lucky you.”

  “Don’t worry. If you’re a good girl, I’ll take you for another ride.”

  Cassie immediately presumed a different kind of ride. One involving her on Mike’s lap. By the sparkle in his eyes, the double meaning had been exactly what he’d intended. Her belly quivered.

  Although it was spring, the temperature had reached eighty-three degrees. Mike opened the door of the restaurant and motioned for her to enter. When she stepped inside, cool air hit her face along with the scrumptious smell of Peck’s barbeque sauce. He placed his hand on her lower back, guiding her to a table in the corner where he could keep an eye on his car. A rush of warm tingles raced up her spine. She immediately felt the loss when he removed his hand.

  After the waitress took their order, Cassie glanced out the window admiring Mike’s Mustang. “How long have you had it?”

  “Longer than I’ve been able to drive it. It hasn’t always looked like that.”

  “I can tell a lot of work went into it.”

  “Dad taught me everything he knew about cars. He had a 1966 Mustang. When he wasn’t fighting fires, he was working on it. Then, when I was old enough to drive, he let me take it out once in a while. Showed me how to take care of—what he called—a muscle car.”

  “She looks like she has plenty of muscle.” Just like its owner.

  “She?”

  “You used the word she earlier. I believe you said you get the same feeling when you take her out. Do all men think of their cars as females?”

  Mike laughed. “Cars are a slight easier to handle.”

  “Hmm.” She propped her elbow on the table and braced her chin on her palm. “Tell me you didn’t name your car.”

  “I did not name my car.”

  Cassie jerked up in surprise. “You’re kidding. I thought all guys named their cars.”

  “Not this guy.”

  The waitress brought their food and they dove in.

  “Mmm, this is good.” Cassie licked a drop of sauce from her lip. When she met Mike’s gaze, his eyes were fastened on her mouth and the heated look in them caused a flurry in her belly.

  He gave a slight groan and took a big bite of his barbeque. The sexual tension broken, she chewed her food.

  “You were telling me about your muscle car.”

  “When I was a teenager, I got a part time job working in a mechanic shop. The owner had a Mustang and I wanted to buy it. My dad said I could get the car or go to college. And I better make the right choice. Which was his way of telling me to forget the car.”

  “So, you went to college?”

  “Yep. But I never forgot about that car. After I graduated from Penn State, I went back to that garage looking for that car.”

  She dropped her bun in its basket and leaned forward, bracing her forearms on the table. “What a great story. You bought it after all those years?”

  “No. It was gone. He sold it.”

  Her smile turned down to a frown. That sucks. “That is not a good story. I expected a happy ending.”

  He gazed at her under heavy lids. “There’s a happy part. The shop owner offered to hire me right away.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s good. I guess.” She’d expected him to be upset, but his shrug told her he was okay with the car being gone. She would have been devastated.

  “I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my life and I hadn’t gotten a job yet, but I knew I wanted my own Mustang. I went to work for him, saved my money and one day this guy pulled in with a flat bed and guess what was sitting on the back.”

  “Your Mustang.”

  “The very same. The guy was hauling it off to auction.”

  “To auction? Why?”

  “Turns out, right after the man bought the car all those years ago, he got a divorce. Said his wife sucked him dry. Lost his house, his wife thought the car was a piece of junk so she let him have it, but he no longer had a garage to keep it in. Friends covered it up and kept it behind their barn. He didn’t have the money to restore it, so finally decided to get rid of it. Wouldn’t start, needed work, so he was taking it to auction. I bought it right then and there.”

  “What a stroke of luck.”

  “Never put much stock in luck.”

  “You have to admit the timing was extraordinary. Tell me. What did it look like?” Cassie asked, then stuffed some fries in her mouth.

  “Not like that.” He nodded toward the window.

  “I didn’t think so.” She shook her head. Cassie knew from her uncle that it took a good deal of money and a lot of work to make a car look like that.

  “A rust bucket with a torn cloth for a roof. I had to replace just about everything. Starting with the engine.”

  “You buy one or build it?” she asked, popping another fry into her mouth. His brows rose in disbelief.

  “A mechanic in a mechanic shop. What do you think?”

  She’d suspected the answer before she asked. Still, she had to laugh at his expression. “From scratch?”

  Mike nodded with his mouth full. He took a gulp of his drink to wash down his food.

  “I sanded down the engine block and rebuilt the engine piece by piece.”

  Cassie thought back to an image she remembered of her uncle standing in the middle of a Mustang frame where the engine should have been. At the time, she’d been stunned. She couldn’t get over seeing the empty space. Since her dad never took an interest in older cars or restoration, she’d spent a lot of time with her uncle.

  “I bet it took you a long time.”

  “Years. I still had my job. I lived with my dad so I decided to build a big garage in the back yard. Dad was all for it and I could take my time with the car. Worked on it nights a
nd weekends. Saved my money for parts. When I made up my mind to join the fire department, I had even less time to devote to the car.”

  A flicker of interest crossed her mind, making her wonder what made him join the fire department. But it disappeared as she stared at the shining car.

  “You did a wonderful job. I know restoring cars is expensive.”

  “Especially if you want to use original parts. Body work isn’t cheap either.”

  “I love the black.”

  “It had to be just right. It was originally white with a red top.”

  “You’re kidding,” she said in surprise.

  “I found a body shop that did excellent work.” He talked as he dug in his fries. “The shop did repair work for insurance companies, too. Those jobs came first since they had a deadline, working on mine in between. They had the mustang body for six months.”

  “The body?”

  “I had the engine on a hoist in my garage.”

  Suddenly Cassie wanted to see his garage. She imagined a huge building with every sort of mechanical tool in existence. A huge open space with lots of room to work. Maybe even a few cars parked inside.

  “What made you choose black?” It occurred to Cassie his truck was also black.

  “Have you ever noticed there’s not a prettier car than black when it’s all shined up?”

  “Black cars are pretty, but hard to keep clean.”

  “That’s true.” Mike leaned back and Cassie noticed he’d polished off two of Peck’s barbeques while she’d eaten one.

  “I’m glad you stopped here. I haven’t had Peck’s in a long time.”

  “He serves the best barbeque.”

  She picked up a fry and thought of how Mike spoke of his dad but never mentioned his mom. She wondered if his mother was still in the picture. Maybe Cassie should leave that topic alone.

  “Does your dad live around here?”

  “No. After his retirement, his sister bugged him until he finally gave in and moved to North Carolina. She thought he couldn’t take care of himself. Although, I think there was an ulterior motive. She said she wanted him close so she could keep an eye on him. But I think she was playing matchmaker, or whatever you call it. She told Dad I needed my space. She hinted that I needed to find a woman and needed the house for when I got married.”