Blowing Smoke: A Small-town Firefighter Gay Romance (The Wilds Book 2)

by Ashton Cade

  Luckily, before the sock incident, I was pretty much done vacuuming, so I just wrap up the cord and put it away, tossing Jared’s dirty sock in the open washing machine.

  This morning’s dishes are the only thing left to tackle. Ryder should be here any minute, but I’m sure I can knock them out quick. Jared was sweet enough to make me an omelet, knowing I’m a little stressed about my brother coming to visit, but he had to leave for work before getting to the dishes.

  Okay, I’m probably giving him too much credit. I doubt the dishes registered on his priority list.

  The omelet was good though.

  Outside the kitchen window the yard is painted white. We had the first decent snow a few days ago. Only a couple of inches this time, but enough to finally stick. From here on out, there’s only going to be more of it until spring.

  That’s another reason I’m cutting Jared some slack around here. He’s so freaked out about what’s going to happen when all this snow gets dumped on us. He’s nearly convinced himself that Gateway’s going to turn into some Wild West, Mad Max hybrid with everyone out for themselves, chaos and anarchy in the streets.

  It’s like he hasn’t lived here for the last five years.

  But I get it. It’s his first time being in charge of everything. If the town does turn to anarchy for some reason, it’s going to be on him. That’s the kind of pressure that can send rationality right out the window.

  Winnie nudges the back of my knee when I turn the water off, starting to dry the dishes.

  “What’s up, pup?” I glance over to her food and water. “Thirsty?” There’s a tiny bit of water in her bowl, but she could definitely use a refill.

  “There you go, good as new,” I tell her, patting her head. She’s already lapping it up as soon as the bowl hits the tile floor. I turn and start to stand— “Son of a bitch!” The back of my head is no match for the underside of the drawer Jared left open.

  “Dammit, Jared,” I grumble, pain radiating out from the back of my skull, even though I’m trying to rub it away. Winnie’s dripping on my feet, concerned, her drink forgotten now that her favorite person is hurt.

  I sigh, patting her again. “I’m all right,” I mutter, head already throbbing. I’m gonna need aspirin, which is in the bedroom.

  Of course, once I’m in the bedroom, I’m faced with the un-made bed, sheets still rumpled from our nocturnal activities. I don’t really expect Ryder to come into my room for any reason, but I still can’t stand the sight of my bed looking so messy, so I decide to make it up quickly.

  The pillows smell like Jared and I’m instantly warm inside all over. What’s a little mess when he makes me feel so incredible?

  It’s not just the sex, either. I know he’s technically got his own place, but living with Jared has been great. Even with all these animals, it can get pretty lonely out here, but not with Jared around. He doesn’t just keep me company, he keeps me on my toes. He keeps surprising me—apparently he’s a cat person. I came in from walking Winnie one day to find not one, but two of the cats out from hiding, purring on either side of his lap, each claiming a hand.

  He’s a sap, is what he is.

  And I’m falling for it, hook, line, and sinker.

  Still, as much time as we’re spending together—and together—the subject of what exactly it is we’re doing has not been broached at all. It’s weird, but every time I start to bring it up, I decide it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change anything. What we’re doing doesn’t need a label or any other complications.

  It is what it is.

  Winnie barks before the doorbell rings.

  She might not be an attack dog, but she’s a good alert dog.

  I down a couple aspirin without water on my way to the door, the pain in my head already down to a dull, constant ache now.

  “Let me in!” Ryder calls through the door, knocking. “Just use your paws to turn the knob—”

  “Ignore him,” I tell Winnie as I open the door.

  “Have you always lived so far out of town?” he grumbles the moment I do, pushing past me, unzipping his coat.

  “Hey there, it’s nice to see you too,” I say, closing the door against the cold. “You’re right, it has been a while since we’ve seen each other. Crazy how time flies—”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he mutters, pulling me into a hug. “You know I’m glad to see you.”

  “Hang your coat here, boots can go over here. This is Winnie,” I add, since she’s sniffing him thoroughly.

  “Like… The Pooh?”

  “No, like short for Winifred.”

  “Weird name for a dog.”

  “I’m sure the shelter that named her will take that to heart,” I deadpan. It’s been a couple years since my brother’s been back in town, and I’ve had Winnie for about that long. I didn’t realize they’d never met, but she seems to accept him pretty quickly, bouncing around his feet and trying to lick his hands.

  “Been a while,” I say, heading to the kitchen to make some drinks. “What made you finally show up again?”

  Ryder shrugs, sitting at my breakfast bar without a second thought. “Time to come home, I figure. I’ve seen a lot of places, now I wanna do something important.”

  “Oh yeah?” It’s a surprising sentiment to hear coming from him. While I’ve always been pretty happy to stay settled in one place, Ryder’s been more of a nomad. He’s never had a lot of luck holding down a job, a relationship, an apartment—anything. He’s never satisfied staying still.

  “Yeah,” he says, accepting the hot toddy I pass his way, a family favorite. “Figure it’s time I put my money where my mouth is. Come to be a jumper.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  He snorts. “Why would I joke about a thing like that? Didn’t know I wanted to follow in big bro’s footsteps?”

  “I figured you got enough of that just fighting fires. Now you wanna jump out of planes too?”

  “You make it look so fun,” he says, grinning.

  It’s easy for him to be cavalier about it. He doesn’t have any clue what he’s signing up for.

  I stop myself from telling him, though. There’s no point. Guys like me and Ryder—all the guys that think they can hack it in one of the world’s craziest jobs—don’t listen to other people telling them the challenges. They don’t hear anyone saying they can’t do it.

  They’ve gotta figure it out for themselves. Most guys that start the training never make it through. There’s no point in me trying causing a rift between us over something that’ll probably never happen. He’ll realize it’s harder than he thinks, lose interest, and move on in less than a month.

  “Well, good luck,” I say instead. It takes a lot of effort to hold my tongue, but somehow, I manage it.

  Ryder nods, thankful for my simple acceptance. “So, what have you been up to other than collecting pets? Seeing anyone?”

  I roll my eyes. “Who are you, Mom?”

  Ryder grins. “Ah ha! That sounds like a yes,” he teases.

  I shrug. “No… I don’t know. It’s kinda complicated.”

  “Oooh, tell me all about it,” my brother coos, leaning over the island.

  “You know you’re supposed to encourage gossiping about other people, right? I’m not going to tell you my own sordid secrets.”

  His grin gets bigger. “So there are sordid secrets to spill?”

  I roll my eyes. “Didn’t say that.”

  “You kind of did,” he argues.

  Winnie gets up suddenly and runs for the door. It opens a moment later, Jared coming in. I haven’t had a chance to tell Ryder about Jared staying in the apartment, and he gives me a look. Eyebrows raised, a big, sly grin spreading his face.

  “Don’t,” I hiss under my breath the second before Jared walks in carrying a couple of pizza boxes.

  He comes right over, sets them down, and gives me a kiss before turning and smiling at my brother. “Good to see you again,” he says. I can’t even remember the last ti
me they were in the same room together. Ryder might’ve been in middle school.

  “I brought dinner. I figured you had enough going on,” he says, voice warm, a softness around his eyes that makes me want to melt into him.

  Not now, I chide myself. Not in front of Ryder.

  “Thanks, that was a good idea—no table scraps, Win!” I scold as she gets a piece of pepperoni from Ryder. He offers a sheepish grin.

  “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

  “She did,” I grumble, glaring at her. She’s already sitting primly, eagerly waiting for another morsel to come her way. “Shoo,” I tell her, the command to leave the room. She backs up toward the living room a few steps, then sits back down, still eying Ryder.

  “Winnie, shoo,” I try again, this time making my voice much firmer. Her ears go back, and she retreats a few more steps, until her paws are actually on carpet. She stays right there at the dividing line between the rooms and goes no further.

  I guess I can’t blame her for following the letter of the law. Damn dog is too smart.

  “So Jared,” Ryder starts, mozzarella stringing from his slice as he takes a bite. “Are you dating my brother?”

  If I had a drink right now I’d be choking on it, but before I can admonish my brother for being such a nosy pest, Jared answers.

  “Yep,” he says without hesitation, smiling my way.

  Just like that.

  Yep.

  It’s been two weeks since he moved into my house and we haven’t had a single conversation about it, but I can’t say I’m upset about the development. There’s a part of me that’s as giddy as a school girl to hear my best friend say we’re dating.

  “Why don’t you take the apartment over the garage while you’re here?” Jared offers. I haven’t exactly been sleeping in there and it’s better than the couch with Angel keeping you up all night.”

  “Angel sleeps just fine if he’s covered up,” I argue.

  “Yeah, if you don’t have the TV up too loud, or laugh, or say anything at all,” Jared teases gently.

  “I didn’t get that far with my cleaning…” I say, trying to skate around the real issue. I wouldn’t have cleaned his place even with all the time in the world—it’s his place—but knowing how he is around here, I can’t imagine it’s in any shape for guests.

  “I cleaned it up already, don’t worry,” Jared assures me. “Yes, really,” he adds to my skeptical look. “I was in the Navy for four years, I know how to clean when I need to.”

  “I don’t mind the couch, I’ve had worse roommates, I’m sure,” Ryder says, though he doesn’t really know what he’s saying since he’s never met Angel either. To be fair, a decade in the fire service has given me enough shitty bunkmates that I still believe him.

  “It’s no problem, really,” Jared insists.

  I make a face, pizza getting cold in front of me. “You sure?” He’s not just offering to let my brother crash at his place. He’s committing to staying with me without his own place to run to. He’d have done this two months ago if I had things my way, but better late than never, right?

  I’m holding my breath waiting for his answer.

  He leans in and gives me a quick kiss.

  “It’ll be fine,” he promises. “Eat your pizza.”

  I smile to myself, a flash catching my eye.

  “Did you just—Winnie!” I groan, Ryder laughing his ass off as my dog scarfs down another pepperoni.

  “I’m going to regret telling you you could stay here, aren’t I?”

  Ryder flashes a big smile back. “Most likely.”

  I shake my head, rolling my eyes, but even so, I can’t be too mad. I love my brother and his antics. And the guy next to me that’s just made himself vulnerable to do something nice for my brother? Well, I’m pretty damn fond of him too.

  So why isn’t that small worry in my belly going away?

  Chapter 7

  Jared

  “Tell me again why we’re making a sunroom for your chickens?” I ask, helping Ryder carry the sheets of thick plastic that we’ll screw into the frame once it’s up.

  Hunter snorts. “It’s not a sunroom—”

  “It kind of is,” Ryder says.

  Hunter sighs. “The chickens need fresh air and daylight. The coop is warm enough, but it’s pretty miserable other than that. This is the best way to give them some space to roam free and protect them from the snow.”

  “A chicken greenhouse. Pretty sure I’ve heard of everything now,” I tease, smiling over at him. “How long do you think this should take?”

  We set the plastic siding down, and Hunter’s already got the ground marked out where he wants to lay down the frame for the sunroom.

  He shrugs, head tilting to the side. “A couple hours maybe, why? Got somewhere to be?”

  “Not particularly, just some errands I should do,” I answer. He asked his brother and I for our assistance over breakfast this morning.

  “I’m sure the two of us can handle it if you want to—”

  “No, that’s all right, I’m happy to help,” I interrupt him. I’m not trying to get out of this. I want to help Hunter with his tasks around the farm.

  Calling it a farm is kind of generous for what he’s got here. He lives in a farmhouse, but it’s been decades since this place has been a real working farm. It was defunct long before Hunter bought the land. He’s mentioned fixing it all up a couple times throughout the years, but last I saw, the barn was barely standing.

  This coop of chickens is the closest resemblance this place has to a real farm. But there’s still plenty of work to do. Lots of land to keep an eye on throughout the season, and even more animals outside than he has in.

  My errands feel insignificant in comparison to his long task list. I need to pick up my prescription from the pharmacy, head by my old apartment and get everything out—there’s still a few things I need to do there to be fully and totally moved out before I break my lease.

  I’m pretty sure there won’t be any penalties, all things considered. If the landlord tried to fight me on this, I’d have him raked over the coals. He’s getting off pretty easy with me just running away from the problem, to be honest.

  Finally ending the lease is a big step, though. It’s a real commitment, and those are terrifying for me. They never end well. I know they don’t; I have endless evidence from my childhood that relationships are doomed to fail.

  Yet I feel really positive about me and Hunter. Maybe it’s naivety, but I do.

  With three of us on the job and Hunter’s detailed plans, we get the chickens’ greenhouse put together in about an hour and a half, all three of us sweating in the bright sun even though the temperature is below freezing.

  “Now what?” Ryder asks, pulling off his coat and tossing it aside. Underneath, he’s wearing a long-sleeved undershirt, the waffle-knit kind that seems to make every guy’s upper body look incredible. He’s no exception—Ryder’s an attractive guy, and years of firefighting have obviously given him a body to be proud of—but there’s something about him that just doesn’t push my buttons the way his brother does. There’s nothing objectively wrong with Ryder as a bit of eye candy, but my eyes are completely drawn to Hunter no matter what.

  Hunter opens up the side of the sun room to open the door of the coop, and it takes a minute or so, but then the chickens are curious enough to come poking their heads outside.

  Before too long, they’re strutting and clucking along like it’s just any other day.

  “I think they approve,” Hunter says, beaming over at us.

  “I don’t know how you can tell,” I answer, making a face. He keeps grinning at me.

  “I can tell, trust me. When they’re unsure or nervous or scared, it’s not hard to figure out.”

  I side-step over to him, slipping an arm around his waist, bringing us closer while he watches his chickens and I admire our handiwork. “If you say so!” I laugh softly.

  Hunter leans into me, and a waft of
his manly scent fills my nostrils. “I do.”

  “If you two are done making out, I’m sure Hunter’s got more on that to-do list of his. I know him; it’s never one thing,” Ryder cuts in, playing the little brother part almost too well. He even scrunches up his face like he’s grossed out.

  “We didn’t even kiss,” Hunter argues, rolling his eyes. “If you think this is making out, I feel real sorry for the guys you’ve been with.”

  I snort, then try to cover it up with a cough, playing the neutral party. Brotherly banter is one thing, but I want Hunter’s brother to actually like me, so I keep my mouth shut.

  “If you’ve got more chores, you should tell me now before I change my mind about helping you anymore,” Ryder says, arms folded over his chest, feigning hurt.

  “I need to set up shelters for the barn cats,” Hunter answers. “I think I’ve got everything we need for that.”

  “Don’t you need a barn to have barn cats?” I tease.

  He frowns. “Not you too. My barn may not be fit for business at present, but it’s got potential.”

  “Potential for crushing someone maybe. Isn’t that thing a fire hazard?” I add, trying to appeal to his professional nature.

  “Do you want to help me make cat shelters or not?” he asks, losing his patience. I hold up my hands. I’m not trying to gang up on him, just having a bit of fun.

  Though I do think his barn has seen better days and should be torn down. Guess it’s a bit of a sore spot. Maybe there’s something we can do about it come spring. It’s too late in the year to address it now, so it’s something to revisit if the structure manages to make it through winter.

  “What do we need to do?” Ryder asks.

  “First, we gotta get Winnie. If we go see the cats without her, she’ll never forgive me,” Hunter answers, all three of us grabbing up tools and scraps before heading back to the house.

  Winnie greets us with the same enthusiasm as always, and the moment she’s free to do so, she takes off into the snow at a hundred miles an hour, doing a big loop around the front yard before heading back to us with her tongue lolling to the side.