Page 3 of Burn for You

He narrowed his eyes at me.

“You could share those cookies of yours.”

I clucked my tongue in dismay.

“Sorry, sir. Can’t do that. Those or ex-girlfriend cookies. I must protect them with my life.”

He snorted.

“I’m not a gambling man, but I’d bet an entire paycheck that you’ll be calling her up toreminisce about old timeswhile the rest of us get to go home to cold, empty beds. Alone.”

I chuckled and arched an eyebrow.

“An entire paycheck, you say?”

Lieutenant Hardy shot me one of his trademark no-nonsense looks. Despite his stern demeanor, he was a lonely man underneath it all. Twice divorced, passed over for promotion to be captain on more than one occasion, and it seemed he’d become stagnant. I respected the hell out of him though, especially since he was so patient when we goaded him.

“Like I said, I’m not a gambling man,” he replied. “So, you’re not getting a single red cent out of me.”

“Some iced coffee for the boys sounds like a good compromise, doesn’t it?”

He grumbled under his breath and rubbed his temple. I was definitely getting to him.

“Fine,” Lieutenant Hardy relented. “We’ll stop on the way back to the station.”

Davies whooped and coiled the hose faster, stowing it away. Conway and Mueller whistled with victory as they hauled themselves into the truck.

Ten minutes later, we pulled up to Backdraft Brewhouse—the original firehouse built in Romeo when it was founded in the 1920s, now converted into a coffee shop. Faded maps covered the walls, along with pictures of the town throughout the years, and vintage firefighter memorabilia—helmets, axes, ladders, and badges. A giant chalkboard menu hung above the counter, written in crisp, blocky letters.

“Davies and Teagan, you’re up.”

Lieutenant Hardy flicked a folded piece of paper over his shoulder at us, slotted between two fingers.

“Hey,” I protested. “Why me? With seven years of seniority under my belt, I’ve earned more than errand boy status.”

“Exactly. That seniority will come in handy while you keep tabs on the rookie, show him the ropes,” Lieutenant Hardy replied. “Make sure he doesn’t mess up our orders like last time. I’m not drinking a rainbow fairy dust latte ever again. I was shitting glitter for a week.”

Mueller coughed a laugh into his fist.

Lieutenant Hardy shot me a triumphant look. I grumbled and snatched the paper from him. I just knew this was revenge for those damn cookies.

While Davies and I waited in line, a few customers in the shop turned to stare at us with our fireproof boots, turnout gear, and sooty faces. Using the hem of my uniform shirt, I attempted to scrub myself clean.

Then Davies let out a low whistle and jerked his chin toward the front of the line.

“You don’t see a woman like that in Romeo very often.”

My gaze followed the direction he’d indicated. At the counter was a woman who definitely stood out like a sore thumb with her expensive cream-colored pants suit and diamond bracelet. Her platinum blonde hair was tied back in a sleekponytail—not a single flyaway in sight. She tapped her glossy manicured nails against the countertop with impatience.

You don’t see a woman like that in Romeo ever,I thought.

I hooked an arm around Davies’ shoulders.

“That woman would strip the marrow from your bones without batting an eye. Next to the definition of maneater in the dictionary is a picture of her.”

He paled.

“Don’t even think about it,” I added, shaking my head.

---