by Kacey Shea
“Just gave him a little of his own medicine.” I wink.
“That’s our girl,” Alicia proclaims and licks bacon grease from her fingertips.
I nod and shovel an overflowing forkful of pancakes into my mouth. “So good!” I say between bites. My stomach sighs in thanks.
“Don’t look, but whatever you said has lover boy on his way now.”
“Wha—?” I try to chew and swallow as fast as I can, but I have too much food in my mouth and when Chase pulls out the open chair to my right and twists so we’re eye to eye my molars continue to chomp at an alarming rate.
“Whoa.” His eyes widen. “Slow down there, chipmunk.” Awesomesauce.
I throw back my orange juice like it’s a shot of Patron and wash the food from my mouth. “Hey, Chase. What’s up?” I try for casual but my voice goes a pitch too high and the food I tried to swallow catches in my throat. I break into a horrible coughing fit. He pats my back until I catch my breath. Tears leak from my eyes.
“Are you okay?” he says. My coughs are replaced with giggles, more from the ridiculousness of it all, and I wipe the moisture from my cheeks.
“Fine. Wrong pipe. I guess I have to practice swallowing.” Facepalm. Why does everything I say to this man come out in sexual innuendo? Because you’d love to do naughty things with him. My skin heats and prickles. Yeah, yeah I would. I meet his eyes and they crinkle at the corners. So glad he finds this amusing.
“Callie, would you like to go out some time?”
“I’d love to,” I manage.
“Great.” His smile steals my breath. “How about tonight?”
Tonight! That hardly gives me time to freak out, obsess, worry, wax, pluck, shave—not that I’m easy and will sleep with him on the first date, but one can never be too prepared. And he’s a first responder. He’s always prepared. How would it look if I show up to a date unprepared—
“Tonight’s perfect.” The breathy words leave my lips. He stands from the chair and walks backwards.
“I better get back to work.” He glances over his shoulder. “Pick you up at eight, Callie.” He turns and jogs back to his spot at the grill.
“Damn, girl!” Alicia reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “Nice work!”
“Uh—” Jill purses her lips and licks them. “Not to be a downer and don’t look, but two tables over, there’s a woman shooting daggers at our Callie.”
“What!” Alicia looks around anyway.
“Alicia!” I hiss, bringing her attention back to our table. “Don’t make a scene. She’s probably just jealous.”
“Yeah, she probably is, but if anyone tries to mess with you, I’ve got your back.” She goes back to nibbling her food. My nerves have stolen my appetite and I push my plate back.
“Yeah. I’m sure that’s it,” Jill says. But it’s the way she says it that plants a little seed of curiosity. I reach for my cup and suck down the rest.
“I’m gonna get a refill.” I stride over to the drink station and leave Jill and Alicia to debate who’s sexier, a lumberjack or a mechanic. Two giant orange sports coolers, the kind I remember from high school track practice, hold the beverage options. I pick the one with water and fill my cup. Before I walk to my girls I turn and scan the faces at neighboring tables while I sip from my cup.
Harsh green eyes narrow, brows knit, and it’s easy to spot who Jill was speaking about. The woman is older than I am, maybe mid-thirties, and she’s noticeably glaring my way. If Jill hadn’t warned me I’d be looking over my shoulder trying to spot who she’s attempting to poison with her retinas. She’s pretty, her dirty blonde hair hangs in long soft curls and her makeup is impeccable.
Angry Beauty stands, grabs a cup off her table and marches my way. Oh, shit. She approaches like a predator, intent and ready to attack. Her sundress swishes with each step of her toned and tan body. I straighten my spine and push my shoulders back to prepare—for what I don’t know—and will myself not to fidget.
She walks straight at me. I think she’s about to run into me. Crap. Can she knock me over? She wouldn’t. I don’t think. Two steps closer and she veers to the left. Oh, thank God. I’m a lover not a fighter.
Uff! Did she just—?
“Excuse me,” she sneers after checking me with her shoulder. “You better watch where you’re going. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” With that she drops her cup in a nearby trash can and struts toward the cars parked at the street.
What the fuck was that? I stumble back to the table.
Alicia and Jill hunch forward over the table. “Callie, what did she say to you?” Alicia hisses.
“You saw that, right? I didn’t imagine it?”
“She totally Ovechkin’ed you!” Jill whisper shouts. Alicia and I frown.
“Whata?” I ask.
“Hockey.” Jill’s mouth opens wide and she waves her hands. “She totally shoved you. Never mind.”
“What am I supposed to do? I think she threatened me, too!”
“Maybe Chase has a psycho stalker. You better be careful. Keep an eye out,” Jill adds, glancing around.
“You guys don’t think . . . Do you think maybe that’s like his ex or something?” That would explain it. And if things ended badly? She was really pretty, but maybe a little old. Well, not old-old, but much older than me. Crap. Maybe he’s really old. We didn’t exchange much information.
“You need to ask him about her. Find out what you’re dealing with here,” Alicia says matter-of-factly. I nod my agreement.
“Yes. This will be good, right? I need to find out more about him. And a first date’s the perfect opportunity to do that.”
“Exactly.” Alicia nods with a confident smile. Jill still looks wary.
Perfect.
I hate first dates.
There’s too much pressure. Look beautiful. Be charming, funny, and desirable. Hide the nerves, awkwardness, and past baggage. I wish I could redefine the first date. Accomplish all its goals in one simple conversation. “Hey, you look nice and attractive, if you feel the same about me let’s share food and deep meaningful conversation, and later we can snuggle. After we fuck each other silly.” Yeah, if only it could be that simple.
The doorbell rings and I give myself a once over in my full length closet mirror. Hair: curls tame and sexy—check. Makeup: bedroom eyes and lips luscious—check. Blue sundress: cut low for ample cleavage, but long enough to participate in countless possible first date outing activities—check. I inhale and then exhale a ragged breath before I traipse the short distance through my bedroom to the front door.
A peek through the tiny hole in the door gives rise to my bubbling nerves. Chase in a firefighter uniform is tempting, but Chase in a button down, rolled to just over his elbows and a pair of khaki shorts paired with Converse. Holy hell, my ovaries just did the Macarena. With a flip of the locks and a pull of the door, he’s standing before me.
“Hey, Callie. Wow! You look beautiful.” He grins that knowing smile and moves to wrap me in a hug. I’m still standing in my doorway and it gives me a few extra inches on my usual height. I’m pretty much eye level with his broad chest so I twist my chin to not get makeup on his shirt. His strong arms feel delicious wrapped around my body. He releases me from his hold and backs up, putting space between us. I step onto the porch and pull the door closed behind me.
“You look really beautiful, too.”
Chase raises one brow and scrunches up his face at my compliment.
“Sorry. You’re not beautiful. Not to say you aren’t pretty.” Oh, God, make me stop. Chase’s eyes twinkle in the porchlight. “I mean, you look good. Good enough to eat, really. Super tasty. Shit. I’m gonna shut up now.” I shake my head.
Chase laughs that deep throaty sound and I relax enough to join in. Even if it’s at my own expense.
“Can we start over?” I suggest. He nods.
“Hey, Callie. You look beautiful tonight.” He hugs me again.
I hold on to the fabric of his shirt, pull m
yself onto the balls of my sandaled feet, and lean into his personal space with a deep inhale. I step back and smile.
“Did you just smell me?” He chuckles.
“Yeah. I did.” I grin.
“Why?” He reaches out and envelopes my hand in his. His touch is both unfamiliar and exciting. I can’t fight the smile that fills my face. We walk the driveway to where he’s parked at the curb.
“Is it weird that I expected to smell smoke?” I sneak a side glance and catch the grin that pulls at his lips.
“Callie, I do take showers. Especially before a hot date.”
“Mmmm . . . I appreciate that.” I nod, earning a chuckle. He drops my hand to open the passenger door. Holy crap! “Nice fucking ride, Mr. Firepants! A ’68 Camaro?” It’s fully restored, too. Though I love that he went with a gunmetal gray in place of the standard red or baby blue for that year. I slide into the soft leather and let my eyes flutter shut. Holy car gods, there’s nothing hotter than a hot guy with a hot ride. Chase closes my door and I click the seatbelt into place. I run my fingertips over the stitched leather of the seat and resist the urge to moan.
“I hit jackpot, didn’t I?” He clicks his own belt and turns over the engine. The roar and rumble fills my ears. Yes, a 396ci motor and dual quad carburetors. Holy fuck, she sounds nice.
“Shh . . . just give me a moment.” I turn my chin and open my eyes to find his gaze trained on my breasts. Hell, yes. “Can you give her a li’l gas?”
His eyes snap to mine and his foot taps the pedal, filling the engine’s need. His eyes widen and he bites down on his lower lip. Hot as fuck. I lick my lips and my pulse quickens.
“You’re a car girl? Aren’t you?” he murmurs. I nod, unable to speak, and transfixed from the fire in his eyes. The fabric of my dress clings to my skin. My body heats. Hell, it’s too hot. Do all firemen have this power or is this just a Chase thing?
“Jack. Fucking. Pot,” Chase mutters. He trains his gaze on the road and pulls out with a jolt. I try not to fidget as I fight the need to simultaneously blast the A/C and assault the driver with my tongue.
Down Callie. Acting like a bitch in heat isn’t attractive.
Chase says nothing. Eyes fixated on the open road as he takes a few turns that I’m unfamiliar with. It’s dark. Really dark. These backroads don’t have street lights and there’s no moon to cast shadows across the passing landscape.
The sexual tension in the car fades to that of an uncomfortable quiet. He’s seemingly distracted by the winding pavement roads and I’m wracking my mind for something to say. Witty, sexy, interesting—any comment of that variety would be good, but my mind’s coming up empty.
And this is why I hate first dates.
I want to know everything about this man. Badger him with questions. Fast forward through the get-to-know-you song and dance so we can get to the good stuff. Hopes, dreams, deep conversation. But that’s not first date protocol and I don’t want to come off as a freak.
“So, firefighting?” Lame, Callie.
Chase glances over with a quirk of his lip and then back at the road. “Yeah.”
Good segue. Okay, start with the basics. I can use this to decipher his age. Or at least the range. I lift my voice above the rumble of the motor. “And you’ve been doing that for how long, exactly?”
“Ten years this fall.”
Oh, God, he is old. Ten years! He’s gotta be deep into his dirty thirties. That’s way too old for me. I just graduated college. I’m only twenty-two. I can’t date someone who was an adult before I started my period.
“Oh, wow. That’s great. Super. I guess that’s why they call you boss. You’re a supervisor? Or leader? Director? Master fire slayer? What is it you even call a lead fireman?” I blabber on, not able to still my racing thoughts.
“Callie.” His right hand slides over to rest on my thigh and halts my chatter. His callused thumb rubs the skin. It’s a simple move but it goes straight to my core and I fight the urge to squeeze my legs closed. My sex throbs. Oh, God, I’m getting turned on by someone who could practically be my father.
“Captain.”
“Huh?”
“Though I wouldn’t argue if you insist on master fire slayer.” He chuckles.
“So you’re how old exactly?” Good. Better to know and move on.
“Twenty-eight.”
“How the fuck—?” I stop myself. “Wow, you must have been really young when you started working.”
“Yep. Well, my father is a Battalion Chief so I was hired on right after high school and worked my way through college. Most people have to wait for an opportunity to get on with a county. It’s a very competitive field.”
“Oh, wow. Family biz, then. That’s great. Super.” Dammit, stop saying super. The car pulls to an abrupt stop and I look forward to find we’re in the middle of fucking nowhere. At least it seems that way. The headlights illuminate the open field and I glance around to find no other vehicles. What the—
“You’re not going to murder me, are you?” I try to laugh but nerves work their way in and it comes out more like a cackle. Attractive.
His booming laughter fills the cab and he shakes his head. “You are really something, Callie.”
“So that’s a no?” I sneak a glance to find him still smiling.
“No. I won’t be murdering you. It’s not my thing. I may attack you later, though.” His eyes lose the teasing crinkle and he adds. “But only if it’s consensual.”
I bite my lip. His fingers, still resting on my thigh, trace slow, tiny circles on my skin and goosebumps cover my flesh.
“Come on.” He opens his car door and walks around the back. After a few seconds I realize he’s not coming around to open my door. Not that he should. I’m an independent woman, I can open my own damn door. I just thought maybe he would. I pop the lock and pull the handle to step into the night.
The late summer air is still warm but the muggy humidity of day is gone. I love summers in Virginia. The chirp of crickets, the croak of a far off frog, and an occasional hoot of an owl. It’s a peaceful, familiar backdrop, and recalls fond childhood memories of neighborhood bonfires and running through lawns from summers spent at my aunt and uncle’s.
“Ready?” Chase is by my side holding an LED lantern that casts light across a well-worn path in the earth.
“Sure. Where are we going?” He offers his arm and I wind my hand through, gripping his firm bicep. I may give it a squeeze or two. I can’t help it. He’s so built and his muscles are hard through the soft fabric of his shirt.
“There’s a clearing up ahead. Great little spot. I hope you don’t mind. It’s simple, I know, but I’m a simple kind of guy.”
“No. Not at all. It’s great. I love summer nights. They’re made to be enjoyed outdoors.”
“Good.” He leads me around an obtruding plant. “I hope you’re hungry. I brought dinner.” He raises the cooler gripped in his other hand.
“Starved.” And I am. With my breakfast cut short from nervous worry about the date and the hustle of grooming to get ready I haven’t eaten more than a few bites all day.
“Here.” We reach the clearing and he hands me the lantern. “Hold this.” He makes quick work spreading out a large, thick blanket and pops open the cooler. Savory aromas fill the air and my stomach rumbles. He pats the space next to him and I join him on the blanket.
“Did you make all this?”
He removes plastic ware full of chicken, potatoes, gravy, biscuits, and corn from the cooler. I’m impressed. Sexy, heroic, nice car, and can cook.
Chase hands me a fork and his lips pull into a smirk. He raises one eyebrow. “I’d really like to lie and say I did because that’s probably more impressive than the truth.” He pops the lid off the tub of potatoes and gravy and lifts it between us. I scoop out a forkful and bite it between my teeth. It doesn’t escape me that Chase’s gaze trains on my mouth the entire time. I make sure to lick across my lips after I swallow.
“
I’d rather have the truth. Who made this?” I grin.
“The Colonel.” He takes a big bite and smiles.
“Who’s that, your boss or something?” Chase laughs and sets the mashed potatoes down. I eat a few more bites as he composes himself and drags over the chicken.
“Promise you won’t look down on me?”
“Promise.” Now I’m impatient to know.
“Colonel Sanders. I went through the drive thru at KFC and repackaged everything to look like I made it. Stupid, right?” He grins and my own lips pull into a smile as I reach across his lap and snatch one of the biscuits.
“No. It’s cute, actually.”
“Cute?” He drops his head, shakes it, and the movement sends the front of his hair forward over his forehead. I resist the urge to brush it back. “Cute. That works for puppies. But fuck! Now I’m gonna have to work my ass off to get bumped up to sex god.”
I laugh and for the first time relax enough to truly enjoy his company. I like Chase. I get his quirky sense of humor and the fact he can laugh at himself. Humility. It’s a rare quality in a man.
“Don’t worry about it too much. I don’t think you’ll have to work that hard to make the transition.”
“Oh?” Again with the lift of the brow. I just shrug. “I hope you don’t mind it dirty.”
“What?” My voice inches higher than I intend.
He lifts the chicken between us with a wink. “There’s really no other way to eat fried chicken. Gotta get a little dirty.” He’s doing it again. The low rumble of his voice goes straight to my core and just like that I’m completely turned on. Fuck. What is wrong with me? Turned on by chicken. This may be a new low. I bite my bottom lip and eye the offending food.
“Come on, Callie. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of getting a little messy.” My eyes snap up to meet his. I snag a drumstick and open my jaw as wide as it will go to take a huge bite. He chuckles and takes a piece from the container.
“I’m a breast man myself.” His gaze roves over my cleavage at the same time his mouth bites into the food. Fuck. I squeeze my legs together but the ache between them only grows watching this man eat. Damn. Those lips.
