Page 1 of Burn for You

Chapter 1

Seth

“Another special delivery for our resident Casanova, Seth Teagan.”

Lieutenant Hardy plopped a package in my lap as I watched television in the common room of the firehouse. The rest of my company gave a collective groan. I smirked and held up the package, wrapped in cellophane paper, printed in pink hearts. It smelled faintly sweet with a hint of lingering perfume.

“Is that a note of jealousy I hear in your voice, Lieutenant?” I replied with a smirk, flipping open the heart-shaped note attached to the package.

Pretty handwriting read:To Seth, from Amy. Made with love.

Tearing off the paper, I lifted the box’s lid and found two dozen assorted cookies and brownies, still slightly warm from the oven. My mouth watered.

“I think I can safely speak for everyone in this room when I say that we’re all wondering how you can be on such good termswith your exes,” Lieutenant Hardy countered. “None of my ex-wives still make me cookies.”

I selected a fat wedge of brownie and bit into it. Soft, rich, and chewy chocolate melted on my tongue. I groaned with delight, tilting my head back to really rub it in the guys’ faces that I was thoroughly enjoying myself. They grumbled with discontentment.

“That’s a secret I’ll be taking to my grave, gentlemen,” I said. “I can’t help it if the ladies of Romeo, Texas flock to me like bees to honey.”

Our new candidate, Davies, gave a dramatic sigh of disgust and snapped his crossword puzzle book shut.

“Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I landed a second date?”

“Over a year,” I said around a mouthful of brownie. “You complain about it in the locker room every damn week.”

“Well, I’d appreciate it if you would stop sweeping all the ladies in town off their feet,” he protested. “When they see your charming smile and dashing good looks, it makes slim pickings for the rest of us. That six-pack you’re carting around doesn’t help either. You’re eating those cookies right in front of our faces and you don’t even have the decency to get fat doing it.”

I choked on a laugh.

“That’s not true. Widow Rogers has never flirted with me. Not once. We’ve rescued her cat from a tree three times this year already, and she hasn’t tried to pinch my ass. She reserves that honor strictly for you, my friend.”

The other firefighters snickered. Davies jutted out his chin with a withering look.

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny,” Lieutenant Hardy said.

“She pinches hard,” Davies said, indignant. “I’mbruised, you know.”

I snorted.

“Yeah, I’ve been forced to hear aboutthatin the locker room, too.”

The snickers erupted into outright guffaws of amusement. I shot Davies a shit-eating grin and popped the last bite of brownie into my mouth.

“Although you have to admit, the age gap between you and Widow Rogers is a little steep. She’s…how old? In her seventies? And you’re fresh out of the academy—a young, strapping buck of twenty-one with a juicy peach, ripe for the pinching.”

Davies lobbed his crossword book at my head. I cackled and batted it aside.

The static of the intercom system and the dispatcher’s crisp, professional voice interrupted our banter.

“House fire at West Chester and Dogwood Drive.”

Lieutenant Hardy was out of his chair in a heartbeat as he ruffled Davies’ hair.

“Let’s move, boys. It’s about time we saw some action on this sluggish weekend. I’m going stir crazy with you bastards in here.”

Davies trotted behind Hardy like a puppy as we made our way out to Truck 7, grabbed our gear, and loaded up.

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