Pin-Up Fireman

by Vonnie Davis

  She stood and smoothed her skirt. “Point guard. All American.”

  A low whistle followed her. “Boyd’s gonna have his hands full with you, ain’t he?”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “Poor man has no idea.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Boyd inserted his Bluetooth as soon as he started the ’stang and called the head of the marine rescue team. Wolf told him some kids had set fire to a dock. Two teenagers had fallen into the water while the blaze was moving from the dock to the board walk along the causeway.

  He asked Wolf to grab his equipment, so he could jump on the boat as soon as he got there. Then his mind drifted back to the hardware store. He had to admit after flirting and talking with Graci-Ella, he felt like a new man. He’d avoided the opposite sex like lima beans since the legal papers suing him for custody had arrived. Christ, the whole lawsuit had him tied up in knots for so long.

  Until her.

  Something about her stirred him up and soothed him at the same time. Thank God he’d called his lawyer this morning and pushed him for answers because staying away from Graci-Ella was going to be hard. The attraction was just too strong. Now, maybe he wouldn’t have to.

  As soon as he’d heard her heels clicking through the hardware store like a “come-get-me” tune, he’d been on the hunt like a wild, horny beast. When he’d set eyes on her jumping for that boxed fan, he had to put his hands on her—had to, as if laying claim to her was some invisible driving force.

  He bolted from his car as soon as he hit the dock. Quinn gave him the “you’re fuckin’ late glare” and Boyd shot him the finger. He jumped onboard and started putting on his uniform and boots.

  The captain sent Wolf’s team out to rescue the teens and assigned Ivy Jo to drive the fire truck Quinn always drove. Quinn grumbled about someone else operating what he considered his personal apparatus. “I told Ivy I didn’t want a scratch or a dent on my truck when she brought it back.”

  “Bet she liked that.” Boyd yanked on his gear and stored his street clothes in a cabinet under his seat.

  “Told me to kiss her lily white ass.” Quinn jerked the boat into gear and Boyd rode shotgun. Once they were on their way, Boyd lugged the fire hoses out of storage. Wolf and Barclay were in their scuba gear in the stern, hanging on while Quinn skimmed the boat across the gentle waves of the water; the stern end of the boat bouncing. In a matter of minutes, the smoke was visible.

  Evidently Wolf’s keen eyes saw something, and he ordered Quinn to take the boat dockside beside the fire hydrant. Then Wolf and Barclay flipped backward into the water and swam toward two teens thrashing around.

  Boyd hopped out of the boat and tied it to one of the piers away from the fire. He dragged the coupler end of the hose to the fire hydrant Jace had just opened and attached his hose to one of the openings. Once Jace turned on the hydrant, both he, Ivy Jo and Boyd aimed the force of water at the fire. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Wolf and Barclay unceremoniously throw two kids into the boat.

  The police on the scene arrested the underage drunken party-goers who had destroyed some property, in addition to setting the fire. Wolf, who was never one to mince words, claimed the kids all needed their asses kicked before and after they repaired what they had ruined.

  Then Wolf and Barclay went underwater again to investigate the pylons and see how far down the damage had gone. Boyd focused on the plants and palm trees to contain the width of the flames, in an effort to keep the condominiums safe. Ivy Jo and other firefighters took care of the wooden deck and walkways. Most of the furniture was ruined.

  A couple hours later, the crew returned to the station. Then the work began of cleaning gear and trucks, as well as themselves. By the time the firefighters were done, the captain had asked for Boyd’s car keys so he could retrieve the items he’d bought. The captain hung plants in front of every window, issuing strict orders they were to be taken care of and not knocked about.

  Boyd went into the sleeping quarters and called home to see if Matt was still up. He could tell his son was fighting sleep just to hear his dad’s voice.

  “Daddy, you’re late. Was there a fire?” Matt’s impatience over waiting sounded like whining.

  Boyd lay across his bunk bed, tired now that he was coming off the adrenalin rush. “Yeah, buddy. Some teenagers were partying and they started a fire on a dock. Two kids fell in the water. The fire spread to the condominiums’ picnic area. But we put it out.”

  “That’s good. I…I been waiting for you to call.” Matt yawned.

  “How did you feel in school today?”

  “Aunt Jinny wrote a note asking I not go outside for recess. I stayed in and helped the teacher with stuff. Guess what? You’ll never guess in a million years!”

  “What.” Boyd grinned, wondering how many times his son would ask him the same question and how, just once, he wished he could shock him with the correct answer.

  “I got two stars on my math paper, ʼcause…’cause I got all the answers right and the teacher could read them. Sometimes I get in a hurry and get sloppy.”

  Boyd gave a low whistle. “Wow, two stars!! That’s totally awesome. Did you hang your paper on the refrigerator?”

  “Aunt Jinny did.” Matt coughed a deep, rattily cough. One that was too familiar to Boyd.

  “Good, because I’ll want to see it. I’m real proud of your hard work, Matt. Now go to sleep.”

  The typical sound of Matt curling up on his side and the blanket rustling came through the phone line. He coughed again. “I love you, Daddy.”

  “I love you more.” He ended the call and rolled over for a little nap before he would scrounge the refrigerator for something to eat. Before his eyes closed, he sent Graci-Ella a text. Call me.

  His phone chimed. R U safe?

  He stared at the text. It had been a long time since a woman cared enough to ask him that. Needing to hear her voice, he called her. “Hi Sweetness.”

  “Are you okay?” Water sloshed.

  He pinched his eyes shut. “Don’t tell me you’re taking a bath.”

  There was no reply. Just water splashing. And his dick hardening.

  “Well?”

  “You told me not to tell you. Besides, I’m shaving.”

  “Don’t cut your leg.”

  “That’s not what I’m shaving. Sleep well, big guy.” She hung up.

  Daybreak and a case of yawns brought Graci-Ella to the fire station—well, that and a chance to see Boyd. She lugged in two big boxes of four dozen glazed donuts in one arm and an equal number of mixed donuts in the other. She set them on the dining room table, along with her bag of calendars she’d done last year of the Buccaneers football team, a collegiate female swimming team and a wrestling team from a Florida University. Visuals for the firefighters to look at to get an idea of her style of work she meant to show them the other night, but her run with Einstein and talk with Boyd had taken priority.

  She noted the petite plant hanging above the small window at the sink and complimented the captain on it, which seemed to please him. He showed her around to see the other plants she and Boyd had picked out yesterday. Since the captain didn’t mention Boyd’s running into her at the hardware store, he’d evidently kept their shopping together a secret.

  Ivy Jo was making several pots of coffee. “Grab a cup and a couple donuts before the vultures start circling to snatch a donut in each grubby hand.”

  “Don’t mind if I do.” She sat at the large table as the firefighters stumbled in in various stages of dress. Emily, like Ivy Jo, was already dressed. As for the men, some wore jeans and t-shits and others were still in their sleep pants or shorts. Her mouth opened and froze, so did her hand with a donut partway to her mouth. Boyd wore nothing but jeans, the first two buttons open, showcasing his obliques. Thank God, he wasn’t into waxing his chest for he had just the right amount of nipple teasing chest hair, and her nipples were cresting for a looksee.

  His son’s name in script was tattooed near
his heart. Tribal tats ran across one wide shoulder and continued down to his elbow.

  He smiled at her before bending over to kiss her forehead. “Do we have you to thank for the donut treats this morning?” His voice was still thick with sleep. “I know I have you and your shaving routine to thank for a restless night.”

  She smiled as she took a bite of donut. Good to know. “Yes, I brought the donuts. Take as much as you want.”

  His gaze shot to her for a minute and swept over her attire—a short-sleeved, purple dress with a cowl neckline and slim skirt and purple heels—in a hungry caress. “I’ll have just one, thank you.”

  She smiled and placed a second one on his napkin. “Confucius said only a weak man can live on one puny donut.”

  He snorted before strutting into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. He sat next to her when he returned. “Please tell me you didn’t cut yourself shaving.” His voice lowered. “Although I do have lots of experience at kissing boo-boos, you know.” He bit into a donut and chewed.

  She sipped her coffee and glanced at him through her lashes. “No, I’m fine.”

  He leaned his knee against her thigh. “That’s good to hear since I dreamed about it. The kissing, I mean. Lots of kissing. Listen, Sweetness, I need to call Matt to see how he’s doing this morning. He was coughing last night.”

  He gulped his coffee as he thumbed a number. “Matt?” His forehead wrinkled in concern as his son’s raspy voice sounded over the cell. “Is your throat sore, buddy?”

  “Yeah and my chest hurts.” There was a slight wheeze to the child’s breathing.

  “You better hand the phone to Aunt Jinny.” Graci-Ella hated to keep eavesdropping in on Boyd’s conversation but his little boy sounded terrible. “Jinny, did you take his temperature?” There was a reply. Boyd repeated it. “One-hundred-and-two point six? Call the pediatrician as soon as his office opens. Keep Matt home from school. Call me with any news.”

  He sat back in his chair and sighed. “Fuck! We go through this same list of medical complaints so often, it wears on my nerves. When it’s his weekend with his mother, I know he spends a large part of that time with my ex-wife’s housekeeper, I suspect he is still exposed to a lot of smoke—and not all of it legal, either.”

  “Which is one of the reasons you’re seeking permanent custody.” Her remark was more statement than a question.

  “Almost every asthma attack morphs into pneumonia. The worry for him tears me apart. I love that little fella is if he were the whole light in my world. He depends on me to take care of him.” He stood and went for another cup of coffee, his pace slower this time as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  Darryl, or Kissy Lips, picked up a glazed donut, caught Graci-Ella’s eye and then wiggled his tongue in and out of the hole.

  If he thinks this is turning me on, his brain has dropped into one of his balls with room left over for a dozen hot wings.

  Wolf told Darryl to act his age, while Graci-Ella made a mental note to remove him from her list. This was one asshole she didn’t want to work with.

  “Oh, come on, Wolf, chicks dig this stuff.”

  “What stuff?” Boyd turned his chair around and straddled it, his head swiveling from Darryl to Wolf to Graci-Ella. Like a gentleman, he picked up his donut and started eating it and watched Darryl select a strawberry iced pastry from another box and do his tongue waggling.

  Boyd jumped out of his chair and fisted his hand in Darryl’s t-shirt, yanking him nose to nose. “You’ll damn well show my lady some respect and stop flirting with her. Know what, Kissy Lips? Women appreciate a more subtle, flattering approach.”

  Darryl sneered. “Listen to this, guys. Some expert advice from a looser who couldn’t hang onto his wife. What the hell would he know about turning on a woman?”

  Graci-Ella took Boyd’s hand and shot a glance at Darryl. “You’d be surprised at how completely he can turn on a woman and barely touch her.”

  Boyd’s arm slipped around her waist. “Would you like to walk to our apparatus garage? You could look at some of the equipment to see if there’s any you want to include in your pictures as a backdrop?”

  “Sounds like a great idea.” She stood, snatched her camera and followed him down the hallway. “I’ll snap some photos of your equipment.”

  Boyd stopped on a dime and she rammed into his back. His hand swung out like a stop sign on a bus. “Don’t say stuff like that to me unless we’re alone.”

  “You’re the one who loaded up my backend yesterday. After you picked me up.” She smirked at her double entendre.

  His back straight, he charged ahead. “Careful. I’ll sue you for sexual harassment. I see how you are. All tease.” He grabbed the door handle and yanked it open. “And stop wearing that damn perfume! You drive me freaking insane.”

  “Okay, no perfume.” His arm was around her waist, holding her close, but he wouldn’t look at her. “Look at me. Is that so hard?”

  “Oh, Sweetness, you don’t even want to mention the word hard right about now. You have a way of teasing…and you speaking up in my defense back there threw me for a loop. I want to make love to you so badly right now. Slowly. Sweetly.”

  This man was a rare combination of tenderness, strength and blatant sexuality that drew her near him so strongly she wanted to burrow into his warmth and spend a couple hours there, in his arms, skin to skin, lips to lips, and fingertips exploring.

  “Yeah, me too,” she breathed.

  “So, what is this we’re doing here? Teasing? Having a good time? Or dancing toward something more serious? He looked at her then, his gaze hot. “Because I have to be damn honest and tell you I don’t want any man touching you, but me. Is that clear? I know I have no right to lay down demands, but…” He backed her against the wall, heat rolling off him. “I want to get to know you better, not just sexually,” his voice lowered to an intimate whisper. “Though that craving is eating at me from the inside out right about now, but I also want to know you better as a friend, a woman, someone I can talk to when I have a need to. You make me feel like a man again, and damn if I don’t need that.” His hand reached out to touch her hair. “Need you.”

  Her palms itched to forge a trail up his bare chest. “I need you too, which is so unlike me.” Firemen were passing by and crisscrossing the wide hallway. And the two of them were voicing their personal desires for a relationship neither was probably ready for; still, the man was her captivation. He had been since she laid eyes on him. “If you think for a minute that you’re not sexy as hell, then your ex-wife is still controlling you. Now, show me your equipment.”

  Boyd leaned his head back and laughed. “God, woman. Come on, I’ll show you my bright red fire truck.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  On their return from the large garage area full of huge fire trucks and ambulances, Graci-Ella told Boyd she’d already decided not to use Kissy Lips in the calendar. “From what I’ve seen of the rest of the squad, he doesn’t measure up to their standards, physically or heroically. I don’t want any trouble out of him. He reminds me of some of the whack jobs I have to represent. Could you sit near him?” Her blue eyes implored him; how could he possibly resist.

  Boyd squeezed her hand. “Whatever I can do to help, all you have to do is ask.” They entered the dining area where the firefighters and EMT’s, as they ate, were glancing over the calendars she had bought with her.

  Graci-Ella smiled when she opened her briefcase, removing her tablet, pencil and tape measure. “I’ll need all of you men to take off your shirts, and that includes you, Captain Steele. I love the highlights of grey you’ve got going on in your hair.”

  Quinn leaned as he walked behind the captain. “What she’s trying to say in a nice way is old farts can be sexy too.”

  The captain raised his coffee mug. “Well, thanks, Quinn. I didn’t think you noticed.” The rest of the men laughed, including Ivy Jo and Emily.

  Boyd slid his chair behind Darryl’s, so h
e’d be nearby in case the jackass got rowdy or mouthy over Graci-Ella’s decision.

  She waved some papers. “I also have a spousal agreement form for your wife, husband or significant other to sign, giving their approval for you to be in the calendar. Please turn them into the captain as soon as you can, so I can move ahead on this project.” She waved the yellow forms. “These puppies are important. I don’t want a jealous mate chasing me down. I could probably outrun him or her, but not if they’re pointing a gun at me and I’m in high heels.”

  Everyone laughed and teased her. Before long, one of the guys nicknamed her Stilettoes, which she graciously accepted on a giggle. “I think I like it.” She wiggled back and forth which got Boyd’s sex meter revving, as if it hadn’t been on full charge since he first laid eyes on her this morning.

  “I’m going to need about six of those forms. Maybe even ten.” Darryl leaned on the back legs of his chair as he boasted. Other firefighters groaned.

  Other than flicking Darryl’s ear with his thumb and index finger, Boyd didn’t move. The rest of the squad wasted no time in shucking their shirts and posing for her as she looked at each one, asking them questions in a sexy voice, taking their bicep and chest measurements, for God’s sake, and noting it all down. Boyd kept his jealousy on a slow burn, mainly because she was all business about everything.

  The nickname angle evidently fascinated her, for she asked every fireperson what the rest of the squad called him or her. When she reached Kissy Lips, she cocked her head to the side and frowned. “I don’t know. You’re pretty beefy.”

  His head reared back as if she’d slapped him. “What are you saying, bitch? That I’m too fat?”

  Boyd had him on the floor, his knee across his neck before the chair he sat in had a chance to clatter onto the tile floor. “We don’t call our feminine co-workers that name and certainly not our guests. Apologize.”

  “Like hell!” Darryl Weir’s face was crimson with anger.