Show Stopper: A First Responder Romantic Comedy (Chicago First Responders Book 1)

by BJ Harvey

  I grin. “Definitely do that. It was nice to meet you, though.”

  Marco doesn’t say anything else to me, he simply smiles and follows Skye out the door.

  Which probably explains why I’m still feeling out of sorts and yet weirdly amused while reviewing the call sheets from the day’s showings later that night. I’m fixated on the last two names written down.

  Skye Cook and Marco Rossi—two different addresses, two different phone numbers.

  I might not even see them again. Regardless, I’ll get my assistant to do a courtesy follow-up call to Skye, and since she’s already said the property didn’t fit the bill, that will probably be as far as it goes.

  But what takes the cake is he had the balls to write “call me next time you want to be caught” next to his phone number. Right next to Skye’s name. That screams player, and if my past has taught me anything, it’s that I’m not interested in philanderers or players, no matter how sexy, charming, and funny the man may be.

  No way. Not at all.

  2

  Marco

  “You’ve got to come out with us tomorrow night, Marco Polo,” my colleague—and the biggest pain in my ass—Scotty says.

  I turn my head and arch a brow. “Why?” I ask, my mouth full of an Italian beef sandwich. We got back to the firehouse twenty minutes ago and after a hectic afternoon, I’m taking the chance to eat while I can.

  My brother Luca plops down on the bench seat beside me and snorts. “Because you pull in the chicks that wouldn’t give him a chance otherwise.”

  Scotty flips Luca the bird. “Sit on that and rotate, Rossi.”

  I snicker and shake my head. “You know that could be offensive to me since I’m a Rossi too, right?”

  Scotty rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t do that to my lieutenant. That would be disrespectful.”

  “But you’d do it to me?” Luca asks, brow quirked.

  Scotty shrugs. “If the shoe fits.”

  My sister Skye and her husband, Cohen, walk into the big open-plan living area of the firehouse. They’re partners in our station’s ambulance, which makes Firehouse 101 a bit Rossi heavy considering that’s three out of us five siblings working together. Lucky we all get along.

  Skye comes up and wraps her arms around my shoulders, hugging me from behind. “Aww, come on, big brother. You’re not too old to hit the clubs. . . not yet anyway.”

  The rest of the guys snicker and my lips twitch. “Thanks for that, brat.”

  She straightens, and I catch a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “I saw for myself the other day how much you’ve still got it.”

  “Now this I want to hear,” Scotty says, leaning forward in his seat.

  “Marco came with me to view a house for sale and he already had the realtor on the ground and on top of him by the time I turned up.”

  I groan. “It wasn’t like that.”

  “It was totally like that,” she says. “Then he kept catching her when she stumbled.”

  “He probably just wanted to cop a feel,” Scotty jokes.

  Skye scrunches up her face. “Not all men are that desperate,” she replies, poking her tongue out at him.

  Scotty eyes me curiously. “What was she like?”

  “She was . . .” No. I don’t want to go back to thinking about that brunette firecracker. She occupied my brain for far too long this week, considering it was only a twenty-minute exchange and despite having my number, and the cheeky little invitation I’d written beside it, she has not called. I thought for sure she’d at least do a personal follow-up. Instead, her assistant called on her behalf. A little disappointing, but I’m a firm believer in things happening and people crossing paths for a reason. If something is meant to happen, I’ll see her again sometime. Hopefully.

  The bells ring out, saving me from answering but also signaling a frustratingly early end to our ‘grab whatever you can and shove it in your mouth’ meal break.

  I take one final big bite of my roll before wrapping it and pushing up out of my seat, shooting Scotty a narrow glare. “Just remember, Scotty Jones, I can make life very difficult for you—in the firehouse and out of it.”

  “You wouldn’t . . .” he says cockily, but there’s an edge of concern to his voice now. “I was just messing around, Lieutenant. I didn’t—”

  I shrug and can’t help but smirk. “Yeah. But you forget one thing, Scotty . . .” He’s behind me now, following as we rush to the garage and step into our turnout gear. “I own your ass for twenty-four hours every three days. It pays not to piss me off. Especially if you want to use me to try and get yourself laid.”

  The rest of the crew chuckle.

  “Yeah, yeah. Okay,” he mutters, jerking his turnout pants up and hooking the suspenders over his shoulders. “So, you’ll come then?”

  “Who else is going? And where?” I ask.

  “The whole crew and Throb.”

  I groan, shaking my head as I jump into the passenger seat of the truck. “That place is a meat market.”

  “Your point?” Luca asks, hopping in and shutting the driver’s door when he’s positioned behind the wheel.

  My best friend, Rhodes, looks at me, his eyes dancing with amusement. “I’ll go if you go.”

  I let out a resigned sigh. “Some of us are too old to go clubbing.”

  “Going out might improve your disposition a bit,” Luca mutters loudly enough for the rest of the crew in the back to hear.

  I fight back a laugh. “Heard that, asshole.”

  “Didn’t whisper it, jerk-off,” Luca retorts with a grin, turning the key and bringing the truck to life.

  The garage doors jerk to a stop as they reach the top, and I grab hold of the oh-shit bar as my brother puts his foot down and we roll out, following the rescue truck in front of us.

  Rhodes leans forward and puts a hand on my shoulder. “C’mon, Marky Mark, we haven’t been out in a while, and I need someone to sit with me and watch these fools crash and burn as they try to score.”

  “Even Gio’s coming. He never comes out anymore,” Luca says, changing tack. Gio is our youngest brother, bookmarked between our middle sister, Valentina, and Skye.

  I shake my head. “That’s ‘cause he’s smart.”

  “It’s also because he’s a workaholic who doesn’t care if he never gets laid again,” Luca says with a chuckle. “Like someone else I know.”

  I smirk and turn my head Luca’s way. “Oh, he gets laid.” I always love when I know something he doesn’t.

  Luca’s head jerks my way. “What?”

  “Nothing,” I say, quickly changing the subject because the guys in back don’t need to know about Gio’s private life. “So, back to tomorrow night. Is there a special occasion? Or are we just going out because we have two days off and Scotty is a horn dog?”

  “It’s ladies’ night,” Scotty yells from behind me.

  “Ah. Now I get it. More ladies than men, Scotty included.”

  “Trying hard not to curse you again, boss,” the man in question grumbles. He knows it’s in good fun though. We’ve been working together for nine years now. After that long, we all give each other shit. It helps break up the long twenty-four-hour shifts together.

  “Right. Good luck with that. I now might make it my mission to piss you off so you do something dumb, then I can take pleasure in the threat of writing you up.”

  “You wouldn’t . . .” he gasps. I shrug.

  “Who knows?” I try to keep a straight face but lose the fight, and a snicker escapes my lips.

  “Such a dick,” Scotty mutters.

  “Heard that,” I say. I look over my shoulder and smirk back at him. “Meant you to.”

  Rhodes points his arm straight ahead toward the windshield. “Ah, good chat, guys, but see that big plume of smoke right ahead? We kind of need to get there. They’ve called in five engines for this one.”

  I look out in front of us, the night sky a muted orange up ahead. Flashing red lights brighten the d
ark and lead our way.

  “Get ready, boys,” I say, turning to look back at the crew. “Looks like we’ve got a big one on our hands.”

  Luca slows and brings the engine to a stop at the cordon surrounding the old warehouse building now raging with flames three-stories high. “Let’s go. I’ll check in with Cap and give orders after that. We’re not first here,” I say, looking around to see our ‘rivals’ Firehouse 22 on scene. Their engine lieutenant Nick Pierce is a grade-A asshole, and he doesn’t seem to hide that fact. I really hate deferring to that jerk at a call-out. “It’s not our scene to control but just get ready to go in if needed. Yeah?”

  “Yes, boss,” fills the cab, then we all jump into action.

  Hours later, I get back to my soggy Portillo’s sandwich.

  That’s not to say I don’t inhale it like it was my last meal on earth.

  It’s a little bright spot on an otherwise heartbreaking night. Sometimes you’ve just gotta focus on the good to outweigh the bad.

  I blame peer pressure.

  Not really. After that terrible fire last night, where the bodies of two squatters were found inside, the entire crew needs a big blow-out. And since most of them were already conned into tagging along by Scotty, I won’t pass up the opportunity to let off a bit of steam. Scotty is good at a lot of things even though he might not seem it, but charming his way into a woman’s heart—or pants—is not his strong suit.

  I’ve been to many bars and clubs over the years, but this is the first time I’ve been to ladies’ night at Throb. I can see why Scotty wanted to come here. In fact, I would hazard a guess that this isn’t the first time he’s been here for this monthly event.

  Earlier in the night, the entire crew was here. After a few hours, my friend Zach left to get back home to his wife and kids, along with a few of the others with families. Now, it’s just Rhodes, Luca, Gio, Skye, Cohen and myself, all standing around two tall tables lining the wall of the dance floor. In front of us, Scotty is moving from one potential victim to the next, introducing himself and trying to get some action. It’s comical.

  “I can’t watch anymore,” Rhodes mutters, snorting and shaking his head. “It’s just too sad.” He lifts his chin my way. “Some wingman you are. Aren’t you supposed to be helping the dude get laid?”

  My lips tip up into a smile. “You, I could help. Him?” I ask, looking back just in time to see Scotty getting a martini thrown in his face. “Nope. There’s absolutely no chance.”

  Skye leans into my side and puts her hand on my arm. “Don’t look now, but your little realtor is in Scotty’s crosshairs.”

  My head snaps up and I scan the room for the errant horn dog and his prey. Then I catch sight of her and her blonde friend being accosted by Scotty at a table on the edge of the dancefloor.

  I put my beer down on the table and push off the wall. “I’ll be back. It seems wingmen need to stage rescue missions too.”

  “For him or for her?” Gio calls out with a laugh.

  I grin. “Him, definitely him. He’s gonna get eaten alive.”

  “Maybe they’ll eat you instead,” Skye says.

  “Or castrate the two of you. They kind of look like bad asses,” Luca muses.

  “It might do the women of Chicago a favor if they put Scotty out to pasture,” Rhodes mutters.

  “Play nice, Rhodes,” I say, but there’s absolutely no malice in it.

  He holds one hand up in the air. “Hey. I’m just saying what we’re all thinking.”

  “Hold that thought until I get back.” I slowly maneuver my way through writhing bodies on the dance floor to the other side of the bar where Renee and her friend are glaring daggers at a seemingly clueless Scotty, who has his hands on his hips and a drunken sway going on.

  “Ladies. There’s more than enough of the Scottmeister to go around,” he slurs.

  “God, no. Scotty,” I say, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, putting him out of his misery because when a guy is so drunk he talks about himself in the third person, that’s when a man who is any friend at all needs to step in. “There’s no one right now who wants a piece of the Scottmeister. You’re drunk, and your beer goggles are definitely leading you down a path you don’t want to travel.”

  I lock eyes with Renee, the spark of heat I see there making me stand a little straighter and smile a little brighter. Good to know I wasn’t imagining things the other day.

  “Beautiful laaaaaddddiiiieeeessss, have you met my boss man? He’s my lieutennnnant. The big cheese,” he says, puffing his chest up, making me laugh.

  Renee’s long, inky hair is swept to one side over her shoulder. Her gleaming white teeth bite into her perfectly shaped ruby-painted lips as her gaze roams down my body and back up again. Tonight, she’s wearing a sexy-as-hell dark lace top and skin-tight pants that cling to her curves in a way to entice and tease—something she’s achieving with ease.

  “Lieutenant?” her blond friend asks with a giggle, turning her head to the brunette goddess I can’t look away from. “It’s our lucky night, Renee. Two for the price of one.”

  Renee rolls her eyes. “Hayley. It might pay to lay off the cocktails.”

  Hayley throws her head back and laughs. “God, Ren. Live a little,” she says, throwing her arm around Renee’s shoulders, drawing my attention to the enticing smooth skin of Renee’s exposed chest. “The least you can do is try to enjoy yourself. Look here,” she says, nodding my way. “This big, buff boss looks right up your alley.”

  My lips twitch at Hayley because a) she is definitely well on her way to being drunk and should probably switch to water soon, and b) what I wouldn’t give to see Renee relax and give me an in. I’m just as mesmerized by her as I was the first time I saw her, after we crashed to the ground with her on top of me.

  Renee shakes her head and turns her attention back to me. Her expression goes from “yes, I’m open for business” to “cautious and suspicious” in the blink of an eye. What caused the sudden change? “So . . . Mr. Rossi. Caught any other realtors this week?”

  “Haven’t had much time. I’ve been too busy working and wondering if my damsel in distress might call,” I say with a half smirk, hoping a little charm might get us back on track. It doesn’t.

  “Working as a lieutenant?” she asks.

  “Yes . . .” I say cautiously, sensing a sharp edge in her tone.

  “Where?”

  Scotty inserts himself back into the conversation, breaking our confusing face-off. “Marco here is my boss. We’re firefighters at Firehouse 101.”

  “Is that so?” Renee says, crossing her arms over her ample chest, instinctively drawing my eyes there. Her body language tells me we’ve now moved on from cautious and shot straight to dead and buried.

  “My sister doesn’t like firefighters,” Blondie announces, sounding a little disappointed at that fact. “Bad past with—”

  “Hayley . . .” Renee warns, but Hayley is too far gone. Her lips tip up into a lopsided grin as she steps forward and loops arms with Scotty. “But that just means more for me.” She looks between the two of us and waggles her brows suggestively. “I’m always up for some fun.”

  “And then I lost her . . .” Renee murmurs with a resigned sigh, and I have to agree with her.

  Scotty has never been one to shy away from fire bunnies, and when he straightens and steps out of my hold to move close to Hayley, I know he knows he’s snagged himself a live one.

  “So,” Scotty says, slinging his arm around Hayley’s shoulders and grinning down at her. “Does my fire bunny wanna dance?”

  I groan, my head dropping back and my eyes going to the roof. His line seems to work though, ‘cause Hayley nods and buries a giggle into Scotty’s chest.

  Renee reaches for her sister’s arm, brows knitted together, but Hayley just grins at her while Scotty nuzzles her neck. “I’m just gonna go . . . over there, Ren” she announces, melting into my drunk friend. Hayley looks between Renee and I, and flails her arm in the a
ir, gesturing between us. “You two should get acquainted. You know . . .” She leans in, not being subtle. “See what pops up.”

  Renee grimaces and shakes her head with absolutely no amusement there at all. Wow. I wonder who shat in her Wheaties. I’m rethinking my first read on the woman.

  “Hayls, remember the rule. Text me if you’re going to leave.”

  Blondie turns and grins at her sister. ”Yes, Mom.”

  We turn and watch Hayley and Scotty stagger onto the dance floor, both of them laughing and hanging off each other. There’s absolutely no doubt in my mind that those two are a sure thing for the night. There was a time years ago when that would have been my main goal when going out to a club too. Nowadays, not so much. I’m definitely a quality-over-quantity kind of guy. That comes with age and experience, I guess.

  “Should we be worried about those two?” I ask, trying to break the icy aura now surrounding this brunette goddess.

  “She’s fine. Your friend seems harmless. Hayley is big enough to make her own choices, however misguided they might be.” Her tone is flatter than the Indiana plains, and there’s no doubt in my mind that any interest she felt for me has waned. But my mama didn’t raise a quitter, and I’ve always been a fan of mysteries. I never give up until that last piece is in place and the riddle is solved.

  “So . . .” I look down to the ground and spot the same silver heels she was wearing a week ago when we first met. “Fallen into any buyer’s arms lately?”

  I’m aiming for a lip twitch but get a clenched jaw instead.

  I’ve never seen such disdain shown for my profession before. Not an obvious one, anyway.

  I study her while her attention is on her dancing sister, looking for any sign at all that there’s a way to get the night back on course. I’m not quite ready to give up on her yet.

  “Have you been to ladies’ night before?” I ask, trying to scale the wall she’s surrounded herself with.

  “Hmm?” she asks, absentmindedly, not even flicking a glance my way.

  “Do you come here often?” I say without thinking. Oh shit, talk about cliché. I open my mouth to take it back, but she beats me to it.