Page 7 of Protect

Jacob loved him, he called him “bear”on account of his big, burly appearance. The guys call him Opp. He gives me a little spin and a “Fucking Christ, Little T, what the hell are you doing here waiting tables?”

I laugh, putting on my best brave face. It’s been a long time since I’ve been called Little T.Little Taylor.

“Just living the dream, Opp.” I laugh as Opp sets me down, gesturing to my serving tray. I’ve known him my whole life. In fact, I’ve known most of these guys my whole life. The image oftheir faces at my brother’s funeral flashes through my mind. I squeeze my eyes shut to push the vision away. It was a lot easier to bury those memories when I wasn’t here. But sometimes, it still feels like yesterday, not five years ago.

“Welcome home, Violette, your dad said you were working at Bakersfield?” Xander says, giving me a friendly side hug and a kiss on the top of my head. My eyes flit to King’s for all of one second. The look he’s wearing tells me he didn’t know I was even home until he walked in here and saw me.

I look back at Xander. “Yeah. Almost a month now.”

“That explains why we haven’t seen you yet, we’ve been going non-stop for five weeks,” Cal Woods, their captain, says, leaning in to give me a friendly hug too. “Anyone fucks with you in here, we’ve got you, lil’ sis,” he says patting me on the head.

I nod, knowing he means it.

That’s how they all look at me, like I’m their little sister.

“I think I can handle them, but I promise, Sky Ridge’s very own hotshots will be my first call.” I wrinkle my nose. “Y’all could probably kill them with your stench,” I say, letting my eyes move to King’s again.

“Told you all it was a shit move to come in here so dirty,” King says, looking at Xander. His deep timbre is as smooth as I remember it. My traitorous body must not recall that he’s an asshole because as soon as he speaks, I get those familiar tingles up my spine.

“No time for showers when we’re celebrating, ‘sides it’s gonna take at least two to get us clean anyhow,” Opp says with a wide grin. He headlocks King and rubs his knuckles into the wavy dark blonde hair at the top of his head. They’re the same height and almost the same size. “This one’s making squaddie,” Opp says proudly to me with a wide grin.

“Fuck, the whole bar doesn’t need to know,” King says, pulling away from him.

Another punch to the chest. That was what Jacob talked about before he died, and now he’ll never have the chance. That pain I’ve really been good at holding in sifts like ashes through my carefully built walls. Talking to these guys is too close to home. Seeing all of them healthy and happy.

Thisis why I do my best to avoid these hotshots at all costs.

King pushes his messy dark blond locks back off his forehead and looks at me.

“Got a spot where we won’t dirty up your bar too much?” he asks with the half-smirk that used to make my heart race. I look away and gesture to the corner.

“The back tables are open. I’ll send Lou over for your order,” I tell them, secretly hoping Lou will actually do it for me. I don’t want to spend my night serving him of all people.

They follow my suggestion and take up a few tables near the only window in this place.

I make my way back to the bar, trying to shake the way King’s deep blue eyes stood out under his tan, or the way his wide jaw ticked when his eyes met mine. Someone with no heart shouldn’t look like he could easily steal mine. It really isn’t fair, but then, I guess life rarely is. If it was, I never would’ve been attracted to Rowan Kingsley in the first place, and my brother would be sitting at that table with them.

“Earth to King.” A fist hits my shoulder, and my eyes snap to Cal’s

“You alright?” he asks.

“Yeah, just fucking wrecked,” I say, leaning back in my chair as I take a swig of my beer.

“I hear that,” Roycie, our rookie, agrees. This is only his first season, andPinafore Creekis the worst fire he’s seen so far. He’s a good sawyer, but you’d never even know he was old enough to be a firefighter. Looking at him you would assume he’s about seventeen not twenty-three, but he’s a hard worker and he follows me around a lot as he learns. He’s sort of like a stray dog.Mystray dog, so I’m starting to feel responsible for him.

“Need to go home and shower somewhere I can’t catch athlete’s foot or step in jizz,” Roycie says with a grin.

“We all had to learn the hard way, now you know it’s better not to shower until you get home,” Opp says to Roycie with achuckle. Ain’t that the truth. We all know better than to use camp showers, unless it’s absolutely necessary.

“Don’t fuckin’ laugh. I’m traumatized, dude,” Royce deadpans, which makes us all laugh even more.

“Hotshot training, lesson number one. Better to smell like ass than have sticky feet,” Opp jokes, raising his beer, and Roycie gags.

It takes a bit for the rookies to get used to not showering. Some guys don’t shower at all, no matter how long we’re out there. At best, they may hose off or whore bath themselves with wet wipes. Camp showers are notorious for being the place where some real messed up shit happens, and for some guys, not showering is just a part of their superstition. When it comes to staying safe we all have our things. Like I only change my greens every four days and never shower until I get back to base or until I get home. I just hose off every few days. Opp takes it to the extreme. He doesn’t wash his yellows all season. It’s fucking rank but there’s no shot he’s changing his ways after five continuous seasons of living to see October uninjured.

“Been looking good out there, boys!” a female voice calls from two tables over. We all turn to meet the face the voice is coming from. A table of women. All locals. Dressed for the club, not for Shifty’s. Roycie pipes up first, basking in the rookie hotshot glow, porn stash and all.

“Oh,hellsyes” Dixon mutters under his breath taking them in. “Dibs on the brunette.”

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