Second Alarm (Firehouse Fourteen Book 5)

by Lisa B. Kamps

  But Dale kept looking at him, his gaze penetrating and completely unreadable. Adam finally slammed the book closed. “Why the fuck are you staring at me like that?”

  “Just trying to figure out if I should tell you or not.”

  “Tell me what?”

  Dale shrugged then pushed away from the doorframe. “Nothing. It’s not important.”

  “Bullshit. You can’t say something like that then just turn around and walk away. Now out with it. Tell me what?”

  “Nothing. It doesn’t matter, not really.”

  “You have got to be kidding me. Stop the fucking games already.”

  “No games. I was just going to give you some advice, that’s all.”

  “Yeah? This ought to be good. What kind of advice could you possibly give me?”

  “Just that the next time you feel like playing around in a parking lot, you should make sure the fucking interior light is turned off.”

  Dale’s words slammed into him, robbing him of breath for a painfully long second. Heat rushed to Adam’s face and he looked away, feeling like he’d just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

  Hell, he had been caught.

  He ran both hands over his face then up through his hair. “Fuck. Seriously? How much did you see?”

  “Enough to know what the fuck you were doing.”

  “Shit. Why the hell are you just now telling me this? Why didn’t you say something our first day in?”

  “Because I wasn’t sure you really needed to know. I’m still not sure.”

  “Fuck. Did anyone else see?” Not that it was a big deal, not really. So what if they’d been seen? Beth had been covered—from the waist up, anyway. No way would anyone have been able to see lower than her chest, not while she was sitting in the passenger seat. And he’d been covered too, hidden by the open door of his SUV. It wasn’t like anyone could have actually seen him jerking off or shooting his wad over the gravel lot.

  And so what if they had? Big deal. He’d done a hell of a lot more, things that would raise everyone’s eyebrows if they learned about them. Being caught jerking off was pretty fucking mild.

  But it wasn’t the idea of anyone seeing him—he didn’t care about that. Beth was a different story. The idea that someone had witnessed Beth being finger-fucked, that someone else had seen her reaction and watched how she came undone when she climaxed…that was enough to send his blood boiling. Nobody else had a right to witness that. Nobody else had a right to see the intensity—the honesty—of her reactions.

  Adam pushed out of the chair, too nervous to sit. He spun around in a circle, jammed his clenched fists into the front pockets of his pants, and glared at Dale. “Well? Who else saw?”

  “Nobody. Just me and Melanie. She didn’t realize what was going on at first. She wanted to go over and say goodnight. I had to stop her and explain.”

  “Great. Just fucking great. Wonderful.” Adam didn’t know whether to laugh—or punch a wall. It was too easy to imagine Melanie’s bright smile as she walked over, totally oblivious to what was going on until it was too late.

  “That’s it, nobody else?”

  “Not that I know of, no.”

  “Yeah, well.” Adam shifted, cleared his throat. “I’ll keep that in mind next time. Sorry you had to explain.”

  “I didn’t tell you for you to apologize. I told you because I don’t know if you know what the fuck you’re doing.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Look, Beth seemed like a nice girl. You should probably stop and think before you use someone like that—”

  “I wasn’t using her so you can just stop that bullshit now.”

  “No? You sure about that? Listen, I know you’re into some weird shit. Whatever. To each his own. Whatever makes you happy. But I get the feeling Beth isn’t like that—”

  “How the hell do you think I met her? Trust me, it was a mutually beneficial arrangement. Nobody was using anybody.”

  Surprise flared in Dale’s eyes and he quickly looked away. He blew out a quick breath then turned back to Adam. “So she really wasn’t a date, then? There’s really nothing going on between you two?”

  “No, she wasn’t, and no, there isn’t.”

  “Sorry. My mistake, then. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  “Yeah, whatever. No big deal.”

  Dale nodded then turned around to leave. He’d gone two steps before stopping and turning back. “By the way, Melanie says you’re both the same shade of green.”

  Adam rolled his eyes. Dale’s girlfriend was an artist who swore she saw people and things in terms of colors. Not auras, but real, honest-to-goodness colors. Whatever the fuck that meant. Melanie was a sweet woman, always friendly and open, but sometimes the weirdest shit came out of her mouth. Adam had learned months ago not to question it, to just nod and change the conversation to something not quite so woo-woo.

  And he didn’t want to ask, knew he shouldn’t. But he couldn’t stop himself. “Okay. We’re green. What the hell does that even mean?”

  “No fucking clue. But she said it was odd that two people had almost the exact same color. Same, but different.”

  “You know you’re starting to sound as out there as she does, right?”

  “Hey, I’m just telling you what she said. She also said yours was growing darker, the edges turning black. That worried her for some reason.”

  Adam rolled his eyes again. “Yeah, okay. Thanks for the warning.”

  Dale chuckled then turned to leave. He stopped again with a grunt of impatience. “Before I forget. Lauren said Kenny’s getting us tickets to the hockey game next week. You in?”

  Lauren, Dale’s sister, was engaged to Kenny Haskell, a professional hockey player for the Baltimore Banners. Adam wasn’t sure why, but Kenny would occasionally get a bunch of tickets for them—and they were usually great seats in the lower bowl. Adam tried to go whenever he had the chance.

  “Yeah, I’m in. I could go for some hockey.”

  “One or two?”

  “One or two what?”

  “Tickets. Do you want one or two?”

  Adam opened his mouth, ready to tell him he only needed one. He changed his mind at the last minute. “Two.”

  Dale’s brows shot up in surprise but he didn’t say anything, just nodded and turned to leave once more. Adam held his breath, waiting for him to turn back a third time, but he didn’t.

  He released the breath he’d been holding then moved back to the desk and lowered himself into the chair. He opened the book he’d been studying but couldn’t focus on the words. His concentration was shot. Hell, it had been shot even before Dale came in and bothered him.

  It had been shot for the last seven days, ever since he dropped Beth off at her car. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, couldn’t stop the irrational guilt he felt whenever an image of her popped into his mind.

  He needed to do something to get over this…whatever the hell this was. Not another hook-up—he wasn’t in the mood, figured he probably just needed a break. So maybe a date. A real date. Surely he could find someone to ask out. He had the perfect excuse now: the hockey game.

  That’s exactly what he’d do. Find a date to take to the game. He had a week to find someone. Not a problem.

  No problem at all.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Beth squeezed a small amount of styling gel into her palm, rubbed her hands together, then ran them through the woman’s hair. A little lift, some smoothing and shaping, and she was done.

  Beth stepped back and met the woman’s gaze in the mirror. “What do you think?”

  The woman was silent for so long that Beth started to worry she didn’t like the new style. It was a drastic difference from how she looked when she first came in, with her lifeless silvery-blonde hair pulled back and held in place with an old hair clip. The woman—her name was Linda and she had just turned fifty-six the day after the divorce from her husband of twenty-th
ree years was finalized—had asked for something different. Shorter. Livelier. Younger.

  They’d gone over different styles and settled on a short bob with some color added to blend the silver and blonde. Linda had been excited about it when they started just over two hours ago.

  Beth held her breath, wondering if the woman was just as excited now that she was finished.

  “It’s…” Linda paused, tilting her head from side to side as she studied her reflection in the mirror. Moisture welled in her eyes and she quickly blinked it away. “It’s perfect. Perfect.”

  Beth released a quick sigh and offered the woman a gentle smile. “It is. You look like you’re ready to take on the world now.”

  “I think I really am. Thank you. So much. This is just wonderful.” Her smile grew wider as she shook her head, the stylish cut swaying with the movement. Beth removed the cape then spun the chair around so the woman could stand. She followed her to the register and rang her up, surprised at the fifty-dollar tip the woman gave her.

  “Thank you so much. This is just the change I so desperately needed.”

  “I’m glad you like it. Change is good, right?”

  The woman paused, her head tilted to the side, a thoughtful frown on her face. “I didn’t think so. Not at first. But now…I think you’re right. Change is a good thing.”

  Beth stiffened in surprise when the woman gave her a big hug before walking out. She glanced around the empty waiting area, quickly straightened the magazines and style books, then went back to her station to clean up. The salon was closing soon and the only people left were her and Courtney.

  “Another happy customer. Good for you.” Courtney sat down in her chair and gently spun it from side-to-side, a haunted smile on her face. Something was bothering her best friend, but she didn’t know what. And Courtney refused to tell her, no matter how many times she asked. Beth was fairly certain it had something to do with her son, Noah.

  And maybe even a man.

  Beth tossed the hair clippings into the trash, wiped down her station, then sat down across from Courtney. “You heard what she said about change, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Oh, no reason. Just, you know, trying to figure out what’s been going on with you. That’s all.”

  Courtney’s gaze became guarded and she looked away. “Nothing is going on with me.”

  “Really? Because you’ve been pretty distracted the last couple of weeks.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Is everything okay with Noah?”

  “He’s fine, too.”

  “Your mom?”

  “Couldn’t be better.”

  “That guy you’re seeing?”

  Courtney’s head spun around, her eyes narrowing as she met Beth’s gaze. “There is no guy.”

  “You know I’m going to figure it out eventually, right? You might as well just tell me now and save me the stress of guessing.”

  “How’s your fireman doing?”

  “Changing the subject isn’t going to work. And he’s doing fine.” At least, as far as Beth knew, Adam was doing fine. They hadn’t talked in almost two weeks, not since that morning when he dropped her off at his car. And then she received a text from him the night before last, asking if she wanted to go to a hockey game. His shift was going and he had an extra ticket, did she want to join him?

  And like a fool, Beth had said yes. They arranged to meet at the Park-and-Ride off I-83 in Hereford tomorrow evening and that had been that. No calls, no more texts. Nothing but silence.

  Beth refused to think about it—thinking about it only led to confusion and a headache. She kept telling herself that there was nothing between them. That what they were doing was only sex. That was it, nothing more.

  Only that last night together—when Adam had taken her back to his apartment—had felt like it was more than just sex. She thought they had been making love, had hoped that maybe Adam felt the same way. And how stupid was that? Not stupid—dangerous. They’d met in a chatroom for a hook-up. Beth knew Adam wasn’t a newcomer there, knew he was probably hooking up with different women every week. Maybe even every night. It was dangerous to think there could be anything between them.

  Courtney leaned forward, a glimmer of excitement dancing in her eyes. “So tell me more about him. Is this like a real thing between you two?”

  “Good God, no. I don’t want a thing.” She almost choked on the lie, reached for her bottle of water and took a long swallow to cover it up. “We’re just having fun. That’s all I can handle right now, especially after all the shit I went through when I was with Ed. You know that.”

  “Ed was a bastard. I tried telling you that from the beginning. I never did like him. And the way he treated you, always knocking you—”

  “I know. Trust me, I know. But that’s all in the past. Right now, I just want to have a little fun.” Beth spun her chair around and studied her reflection in the mirror. Was it obvious she was lying? Could Courtney tell?

  But she wasn’t lying. She really wasn’t. She did want to have fun. Nothing else. She didn’t want a relationship, not right now. Not after suffering so much humiliation before. Being with Ed had caused so many self-esteem issues for her, issues she was still getting over.

  Those few times with Adam had helped. He made her feel…special. Beautiful. Wanted. The way he treated her, like her curves were beautiful instead of bulging fat to be ashamed of. The way he made her feel when they were together—

  She needed to stop that line of thinking. Right now. Yes, he treated her well. But she was sure he treated all his partners that way. It meant nothing. And she didn’t need a man to define her self-worth—that was a lesson she’d had to learn the hard way.

  But that didn’t mean she didn’t need a man for sex. And sex with Adam was…delicious. Until he’d taken her back to his place. Until he’d told her she was the first woman he’d had there in over eight months.

  Stop it. Just stop.

  Beth forced a smile to her face and turned back to Courtney. “We’re supposed to go out tomorrow night. To a hockey game.”

  Surprise flared in Courtney’s eyes. “A hockey game?”

  “Yeah. Down in Baltimore.”

  Courtney’s shoulders sagged in relief. Beth frowned, watching her, wondering what she had just missed. “Why do you look so—I don’t know. Surprised? Anxious? What are you not telling me?”

  “Nothing. Why would you think that?”

  “Because of that look in your eyes when I said we were going to a hockey game.”

  “You’re just imagining things.”

  Beth narrowed her eyes, wondering if she should push the issue. Courtney was lying. Hiding something. Would she tell her if she pushed a little more?

  Probably not.

  She turned back to the mirror and studied her reflection for a few silent minutes. She ran one hand through her hair, pulling the wavy ends out and holding them in front of her eyes. “You know, I think it’s time for a change, too.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “My hair. I need a change.” Beth dropped her hand and turned back to Courtney. “Are you in a hurry to get home?”

  “Why?”

  “I was just wondering if you felt like doing my hair, that’s all.”

  Courtney glanced at her watch. “I can probably stay. Let me call home and tell my mom I’m going to be running late.”

  “Is that going to be a problem? I don’t want—”

  “Nope, no problem at all. You know me—no life.”

  “Great. You call home, and I’ll get everything together.” Beth pushed out of the chair and walked to the back room. She studied the different tubes of color, mixing them in her mind, imagining how each would look on her. Excitement coursed through her when she made a final decision.

  Change. Yes. This was exactly what she needed. A drastic change. Something totally different.

  She mixed everything together, gathered the needed s
upplies, then placed everything on a small rolling cart and wheeled it out. Courtney studied the bowls and tubes of color.

  “Are you sure? That’s pretty different.”

  “Positive.” Beth draped a cape around her shoulders then took a seat at Courtney’s station. She leaned forward, grabbed a pair of scissors, and passed them over her shoulder. “But first, I want you to cut off a good five inches.”

  “Five inches? Beth, are you sure? I thought you liked your hair long.”

  “This is all in the name of change.”

  Courtney’s gaze met hers in the mirror. Several long seconds went by before she reached out and took the scissors from Beth’s hand. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “Not a clue.”

  “It’s going to be too late to change your mind once I cut—”

  “I know. Just do it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Positively sure?”

  “Yes—absolutely, positively, one hundred percent certain.”

  Courtney frowned, the disbelief clear on her face. She gathered the ends of Beth’s hair and held the thick hank in one hand and the scissors in the other. “You’re sure you’re sure?”

  “Just do it already!”

  Courtney nodded, took a deep breath—and cut. Beth gasped, which made Courtney freeze, a horrified expression on her face. “You told me to do it!”

  Beth laughed, the sound clear and somehow cleansing. She wiped her eyes and looked at Courtney. “I was only teasing you. I need this. Now get to it. Change awaits.”

  “I think you need your head examined.”

  Beth’s smile faded, just a little. No, it wasn’t her head she needed examined.

  It was her heart.

  But she wasn’t about to tell Courtney that. She could barely admit it to herself. Hadn’t she learned her lesson already? How could she have let herself start falling for Adam?

  Sex. Just sex. She had to keep telling herself that. Tomorrow night would be their last time together. It had to be. She couldn’t risk anything happening. Couldn’t risk falling even harder for him.