Page 21 of Five Alarm Kiss

Logan made a rolling speed-it-up-circle with his hand.

“And her skirt wasn’t tight,” Jake clarified.

“Bummer.”

“Her shirt was,” he added with a sly grin. Okay, it wasn’t. At least, not until backing into her desk and sliding down onto her ass had made the material pull tight across her breasts. He’d bet money she hadn't realized it, but he had.

“Nice.”

His friend’s grin made Jake narrow his eyes. The intensity of how much hedidn’twant Logan’s imagination anywhere near Laurel’s breasts surprised him.

“I’m fucking with you,” Jake lied. “She’s a grade school teacher. You really think she goes around wearing tight shirts?”

“Dare to dream, dude. She’d look hot in a tight shirt. Or better yet,noshirt.”

Jake gnashed his teeth. The fact he was seriously considering sucker punching his best friend shocked the hell out of him.

What the actual fuck?

Logan snickered. “Dude, you should see your face. You definitely have a major hard-on for her.”

Before Jake could respond, four small hooves landed on his back.

“Dammit, Spot! Get off!” Jake sat upright, causing the baby pygmy goat to slide off onto the floor. “Get out! You know you’re not supposed to be in here.”

So much for keeping the germs out, when the little shithead kept sneaking in.

“Logan, why’d you leave the door open?”

“I didn’t. I closed it,” Logan insisted. “I swear he can open doors. Especially when he wants to be with his mama.”

Jake sneered, then addressed the goat. “What part of ‘not allowed in here’ are you not understanding? Go bug Randy.”

Spot bleated in response.

“Out!” Jake shouted, pointing at the door.

The goat blinked up at him defiantly.

Stubborn little shit.

Spot had come to live at the fire station two months ago after they’d responded to a barn fire in the unincorporated section of town. The property owner was a sweetcorn farmer who’d been burning weeds along his property fence when the wind had picked up. The blaze had gotten out of hand and rapidly spread to the barn, which was an older wooden structure. After it ignited, it had burned so quickly that the owners were only able to get their horses out before it had been completely engulfed in flames.

Station 23 had been dispatched, along with the next closest rig from Station 18. Despite their best efforts, they were only able to save a few sheep and one lone baby goat. Unfortunately, the goat’s mother had perished in the fire, so he’d become an orphan.

Jake had been the one to carry the little guy out of the flames. Once the fire had been completely extinguished, the goat had escaped the makeshift enclosure he’d been put into and had run straight to Jake.

He’d swooped up the goat and held him while he and Captain Anders had spoken with the farmer. Apparently, the baby goat, or ‘kid,’ as the farmer had told them they were called. Jake already knew that, but the guy liked to talk and was in shock. Anyway, the kid was only a couple weeks old and still nursing. The farmer said he was going to have to find a new home for him because he wouldn’t have time to bottle feed him as often as necessary while dealing with a decimated barn and cleaning up after the fire.

Surprisingly, Captain Anders had caved when the crew had suggested they adopt him. They argued they could take turns bottle feeding, since the station was manned round the clock. Spot was lucky the Captain was such a softy.

So, instead of having a stereotypical dalmatian as its mascot, Station 23 had a pygmy goat. Logan had jokingly referred to him as “Spot” when he’d arrived at the station, despite the fact there wasn’t a single spot anywhere on his tri-color, brown, black, and white body, and the name had stuck.

“Spot,” Jake warned. “I said out.”

For once, the goat listened and trotted out of the room with a final flick of his white-tipped tail.

“You still coming Saturday?” Jake asked, a grin present on his lips. He couldn’t help it. The little goat’s big attitude got him every time.

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