by Sara York
Chuck stumbled off the bus and rushed the almost two miles to Trip’s house. The place was messier than usual, like he’d purposely pulled out crap to make Chuck’s life hell and screw him over. By the time Chuck made it home, the seventh inning stretch was winding down. He tossed his clothes to the floor, happy to be able to watch the game in the nude. His mom would throw a fit if she saw him now—that was exactly why he hadn’t gone running home. His life in Miami might suck a bit, but living at home was worse. He pulled a beer out of the fridge and popped the pizza into the oven. The Marlins were winning, which totally sucked. Matched his life right now, which didn’t surprise him.
Everybody down here was Marlins crazy, except him. He’d tried to get a ticket to the game since the Cardinals were playing, but with no luck. He was stuck watching on his little TV. Hell, Trip would have kept him from having any fun anyway. The jerk was always making him stay late.
After he’d guzzled five beers and eaten the whole pizza, sleep pulled Chuck under, leading him into wild dreams where sports cars chased him and dogs shat on his head. Chuck woke to the sound of someone pounding on his door. He sat up and scrubbed one of his hands across his face, groaning and popping his neck, trying like hell to remember what he was doing in the den. The knocking grew louder and the shouting came next. He pulled on his undies and went to look through the peephole.
A fireman, decked out in his gear—mask, hat, everything—stood close to the rail, then stepped forward and started banging again. Chuck imagined the guy was sexy, with ripped muscles and a killer smile. Of course, all firemen were hot and sexy in the porn he watched—not that he watched much, no more than the next guy—but still, firemen were hot. Chuck looked again and ripped open the door, wondering what the hell was going on that the guy had to bang on his door at this time in the morning.
“What?” Chuck snapped. He didn’t like the way his voice slurred with exhaustion and anger, but here, again, was another potentially hot guy who wouldn’t want anything to do with him. Just like always, guys only wanted him for their whipping boy and not for fun.
“Thank God you answered. Get out now.” The fireman reached forward and pulled Chuck out of his apartment.
“Wait.” Chuck jerked back, pulling the fireman up against his mostly naked body. Chuck swallowed over the lump in his throat. This was the first man he’d had this close in a long time, and he planned on enjoying the nearness. The scent of smoke was thick in the air but he assumed it must be from the fireman himself. Then again, he was exhausted, and his mind usually played tricks on him when he was tired.
“Fire! You have to get out.” The fireman pulled his mask off and his beautiful mouth tilted in a frown.
Chuck gulped in air and coughed as smoke filled his lungs. He looked down at his exposed skin. “I have no clothes on.”
The fireman stepped back and raked his eyes over Chuck’s body, stopping at his crotch. The guy’s face turned pink as he swallowed hard, causing his Adam’s apple to bob.
Chuck shook off the guy’s hold and raced back into his apartment, grabbing his jeans, shirt, socks and shoes. He was just starting to pull on his pants when the fireman grabbed his arm again and pulled him towards the door.
Thick black smoke belched above, choking Chuck. He stumbled and took the fireman down with him. They were a mess of arms and legs, nothing sexy about him falling like he’d learned earlier. Fuck, he hoped he hadn’t fallen in dog poop again. It took a few seconds for him to register the heat burning his ass. Chuck pushed the fireman and scrambled to his knees, dragging his jeans along as the fireman pulled at his arm. How long has this bitch been burning?
“Hurry, the ceiling is on fire.”
Chuck followed the fireman, holding his clothes close to his chest like a protective shield. They made it out of the apartment’s front door and Chuck looked back, surprised to see flames licking at the walls. He giggled as he stood, nervousness and fear clawing through him.
He looked down at his body, ashamed that he was mostly naked. Normally he didn’t give a shit who saw him in the buff, but the fireman pulling him along was a dream and already Chuck had made a horrendous impression. His apartment was dirty. Hell, he lived in a shithole—the armpit of Miami, really. What type of guy lived in a dump like this? Why couldn’t he have met this man somewhere nice where his lack wasn’t so obvious?
The fireman pulled him forward, protecting Chuck’s skin by draping his coat over him. The iron steps were hot on Chuck’s bare feet as they raced down the stairs. Chuck looked over his shoulder and saw the flames spewing from his apartment. He hesitated, wondering if he should go back for anything. The fireman grabbed his hand and tugged Chuck down the rest of the steps.
“You don’t have time to save anything. I’m just glad we got you out,” the guy said over his shoulder as he led the way.
As they reached the parking lot, a rock dug into Chuck’s foot and he cursed, then started limping.
“You okay?” the fireman asked.
“Yeah, stupid rock. I’m fine.”
“You were the last one out. I wouldn’t have kept banging, except I heard the TV on. That was a close call, dude.”
“Yeah, so you say.” Chuck dropped his shoes and shirt, concentrating on pulling on his pants.
He got both legs in but wobbled a bit. The fireman placed a steadying hand on his shoulder, helping him to stand upright. Their gazes locked and Chuck swore he saw the heat of lust burning in the man’s eyes. Hell, it could just be from the excitement of the fire. A guy like him wouldn’t like me.
“Let me help you with that.” He slid Chuck’s pants up over his hips and gripped the zipper, biting his lower lip.
Chuck felt a quick hard-on sprouting and thought of someone kicking him in the nuts to try to squelch his desire. It didn’t work. The guy’s fingers brushed against his belly as he slid the button through the hole on his jeans.
Mr Sexy looked up, probably not realising he’d stepped so close to Chuck. Their lips were only inches apart. Chuck wanted to reach out and touch him, but the noise of the other firefighters broke through.
“Move, move,” another fireman yelled.
The magic was broken, the moment lost as Chuck stumbled across the parking lot after grabbing the rest of his clothes. His fireman ran off into the night without leaving his name. Chuck watched the crap apartment building that was his home burn and fall in on itself, with all his belongings inside. He didn’t have that many possessions, but he was sure insurance would replace some of them.
Panic turned his stomach as he reached into his pocket and found his keys. Thank God he had his car keys. Since he’d arrived home late, his car was parked at the end of the parking lot, avoiding the heat of the fire and the damage from falling debris. It gave him some pleasure that he’d saved his car from damage. At least one thing had gone right in his life. Maybe things were looking up for him.
Part of the roof in the middle of the complex crumbled down and fell onto a car. Oh, thank God mine is safe.
Chuck bit his lip, searching for the fireman who’d helped him. It was all a blur. With everyone in the same uniform, he couldn’t tell one from another. He’d just sat on the kerb to pull on his shoes and socks when an explosion rocked the building. He dropped his shoe to the ground beside the other one, scrambling back a few feet. In horror, he watched an oven shoot out of the apartment at the far end of the building, arc over the blacktop lot…and land squarely on the hood of his car.
His shoulders slumped forward, his head hung low and tears stung his eyes. How the hell had that happened? But Chuck knew how. He was cursed. That woman with the chicken popped into his mind and he choked back a sob.
It was almost too much trouble to pull on his shirt or put on his shoes. Instead, he watched the firemen move around in the eerie light of the fire as they pulled out hoses, squirting water on the charred remains of the building.
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About the Author
Sara York lives i
n the southern United States with her family and dogs. Sara loves romance that takes you to distant worlds where you could be a princess or a warrior. She enjoys reading about faraway places, but writing is her passion. Her favourite vacation would be to spend the day at the beach while reading or writing a good book.
Email: [email protected]
Sara loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.total-e-bound.com.
Also by Sara York
Surprise Sleepover
Working it Out
Selling It
Fire and Ice
Miami Sizzle
Harder with Three: Intimate Intervention
His Hero: Zane’s Inferno
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