Page 8 of Flashpoint Feelings

I force a grin I don’t feel. “Besides, who’s got time for romance when I’ve got you two idiots to babysit?”

They both protest, falling into our usual banter, but my heart’s not in it. All I can think about as I grab the first couple of bags and head toward the door is, how the hell will I maintain my distance from Maya in a station as small as ours when every cell in my body wants to do exactly the opposite.

Chapter six

Maya

Jake said the chief wanted to see me. The news, delivered before I’d even tucked my jacket into my locker, filled the pit in my stomach with dread. Surely, he’s noticed my distraction over the past few days, my irritation. Which is unacceptable. My performance shouldn’t suffer because a certain burly redhead has been doing everything in his power to avoid me ever since the almost-kiss at the elementary school.

But it has. Damn him.

The steady thud of my work boots on the stairs echoes my apprehension as I approach the chief’s office. My fingers curl into fists when I recall the way Mack volunteered for truck maintenance instead of joining our usual coffee run to the deli around the corner. Or how he switched places with Brock during hose drills, supposedly because his reach would ‘be better for the high angle spray.’ And yesterday afternoon, during equipment check, he kept his head buried in the supply cabinet inventory rather than engage in our usual banter, though he’d been full of witty comebacks with the guys at lunch.

And the worst part is, I actually miss his infectious grin directed my way.

My pace stalls on the last few steps as voices drift through the partially open door of Chief’s office.

“With all due respect, sir, I’d prefer if you sent someone else with me.” Mack’s deep voice carries clearly, and my stomach clenches. “Maybe, Jake or—”

“Thorne is fully qualified for inspections,” Chief cuts in, his tone clipped. “Are you suggesting otherwise?”

“No, sir, of course not. It’s just—”

“Then I expect you to treat her with the same respect you’d show any other firefighter under my command.” A chair creaks. “Belmont’s new elevator installation needs to be certified for operation, and unless you have a specific concern about her competency…”

My fists clench, nails biting into my palms. Years of prep, six months of training, three stations, countless certifications, and I’m still fighting this battle. The same one that had me transferring here in the first place. But somehow, this hurts worse, coming from Mack, the man who’s treated me like one of the guys. The man who complimented my quick thinking when I spotted the gas leak during the kitchen fire call yesterday. Mack, whose steady presence at my back during drills made me feel invincible instead of defensive for the first time in my career.

“No concerns, sir.” Mack’s voice is strained. “She’s more than qualified.”

That’s it. I’m done being talked about as if I’m not even here. I push open the door, satisfaction coursing through me at how Mack’s shoulders stiffen when he spots me. His throat works as he swallows hard, and I catch a flash of something that looks like guilt in those striking green eyes before he glances off.

“You asked to see me, sir?”

Chief’s expression gives away nothing. “Perfect timing, Thorne. You and Mack are heading to The Belmont to inspect their newly installed elevator. They’ve modernized the historic shaft with a new commercial-grade system that needs certification before it can open to residents.”

“Yes, sir.” I keep my tone professional even as anger simmers beneath my skin. My irritation’s been building for days as Mack’s maintained distance between us. No more playful nicknames, no more casual touches sending electricity dancing across my skin. Just polite nods and redirected gazes. Well, two can play this game.

The walk to the historic building is silent and tense, the humidity making my shirt stick uncomfortably to my skin. Or maybe, that’s just the fury still radiating off me in waves. Mack, carrying the department tablet, keeps shooting me sidelong glances, but I deliberately keep my gaze forward, my chin high. The city streets are busy with the usual mix of tourists, consulting their phones, and locals speed-walking with coffee cups in hand, while yellow cabs honk their way through the congestion.

While we’re waiting for the walk signal at Eighty-Sixth Street, from out of nowhere a businessman slams into my shoulder. The impact sends me stumbling toward the street as a delivery truck rumbles by. Before I can catch my balance, Mack’s powerful hands grip my waist, yanking me back, all the way to his wall of a chest. The tablet tumbles to the sidewalk forgotten as Mack’s body envelops me, his arms bracketing my small frame. And despite my anger, my traitorous pulse skips. The spicy scent of his cologne fills my nose, and for a moment, I’m transported back to that school demonstration, his body solid beneath my hands.

The man who hit me is a flash of gray tailored suit as he murmurs an apology and disappears into the crowd crossingthe street as the light changes. But I barely give him a thought because Mack’s breath is stirring the loose strands of hair at my temple.

“You okay?” he murmurs, the low tone filled with concern.

I jerk away, ignoring how my skin tingles where his palms pressed flat against my back.

“Fine,” I insist, smoothing my ponytail, clearing my throat, and not meeting his eyes.

With a sigh, he bends to snatch up the tablet, the rough motion betraying his distress. Thankfully, it’s unscathed, thanks to its protective silicone case. I’d hate to turn around, since we’re almost to our destination. Because, if I thought the silence was tense before, it’s downright explosive now. As if the smallest spark could ignite the inferno smoldering beneath the surface.

The Belmont towers above us, eighteen stories of Art deco grandeur with its distinctive stepped facade and decorative metalwork catching the afternoon sun. The lobby’s original marble floors and brass fixtures speak to old New York money as we step inside.

A gray-haired super shuffles forward and greets Mack like an old friend, his weathered face creasing with a warm smile. “Mack! Here to check out our fancy new elevator, eh?”

“Hey, Joe,” Mack says warmly as they shake. “Good to see you, as always. And yeah, we’re here to get you up and running, right?”

“No doubt.”

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