Page 6 of Sticky Situationship

I drop to my knees, starting the hose inspection with the brass coupling. “I’m here to work, not flirt.”

“Right,” he says, drawing the word out. “And remind me, when was the last time you had a date, exactly?”

“The coupling is good,” I reply, moving on to the first two feet of polyester covered thermoplastic polyurethane.

He shifts down the hose with me. “And are you still selling your mom on the imaginary girlfriend bit?”

Yes, although I’m not about to admit that to Jake. I still regret blurting out that I was seeing someone, just to get my mother off my back at her birthday party a couple of months ago. But there you have it. I’m a terrible son.

And, because Libby was the first woman who came to mind when my mom and sister started rapid-firing questions at me about my “girlfriend,” I used her characteristics to answer them. Not exact details, of course, mainly because my mom is a physician, too, and would zero in on that fact like a bear on a beehive, but more her character traits and qualities. Like Libby’s endless compassion, her quick wit, that contagious sense ofhumor, her generosity, and the way she always bites off more than she can chew and then struggles to keep up.

“Well, at least, I know the real reason you don’t date,” Jake says, pulling my attention back to the present. “Your mother may believe you’re in a committed relationship, but really, she has no clue.”

Not this again.

“You know nothing.”

I’ve heard Jake’s long held and completely unfounded theory a dozen times. And no matter what he thinks, it’s still untrue. I run my fingers along the length of the hose, searching for signs of wear and tear when Levi and Mack, two of our fellow firefighters, emerge from the second floor office with inventory clipboards in hand.

“Hey, guys,” Jake calls as they clamber down the stairs. “True or false, our friend Brock, here, is in love with his fuck buddy?”

And just like that, my temper flares hotter than a four alarm blaze in the middle of August. Jake and I have been fast friends since the first day of the Fire Cadet Academy, when we were paired up as rappelling partners. We always have each other’s back. But that doesn’t mean I’m above throwing punches.

“Don’t call her that,” I warn, my voice low and threatening as I sit back on my heels and shoot him a scathing look.

His eyebrow cocks, and I’d love nothing more than to wipe the smirk off his baby face with my fist, but Levi chimes in just then as he and Mack each step over the hose. “Oh, no doubt.”

Asshole.Plus, what would he know about love? He’s basically seeing a new girl every week.

“See?” Jake says, with a triumphant smile. “Everyone knows it but you. And Libby. Oh, and your mom.”

I rub the back of my neck, sensing a migraine coming on. “Are you done?”

“Are you going to admit it’s the truth?”

“I would if it was. Too bad for you, it’s not.”

“I believe you, man,” Mack calls over his shoulder as he and Levi head into the stockroom.

“Thank you, Mack,” I reply, loud enough for him to hear, and relieved at least one person around here believes me.

“Even if you are delusional,” he adds, earning a snicker from Levi.

Seriously?

“As I was saying—” Jake starts.

“Oh, I thought you were done,” I deadpan, cutting him off.

“I’m done with you about as much as you’re done with Libby.”

My grip tightens on the hose.

“She and I have an agreement,” I remind Jake, turning my attention back to the inspection and putting an end to this ridiculous conversation.

“Right,” he says, drawing out the damn word again. “Theagreement.”

I wouldn’t be surprised if he was using air quotes the way he says it, but I’m not about to give him any more attention when he’s on a roll as he is this morning.

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