Page 4 of Illinois Innkeeper
The few dates I’ve tried to go out on since moving to Charming Falls have been absolute disasters. Most men are intimidated by my job. Firefighters have to be tough, especially female ones. I’ve learned the hard way that, for the most part, men with office jobs prefer to think of themselves as the big, strong hero to a damsel in distress, rather than admit they are dating a strong woman who can take care of herself.
Since I could never be in a relationship with someone on our crew––both out of safety concerns and the ick factor of them being like brothers to me––my viable options are severely limited.
For some reason, I get a vibe from Graham that he wouldn’t be bothered by my job. He seems confident and secure enough in his masculinity to handle the traditional role reversal. Of course, I could be wrong about that, but I simply can’t imagine him having a problem with me being the hero of our story––if we had a story together.
The mood is somber when we return to the station and unload the trucks. It’s always a good day when no lives are lost, but it doesn’t feel great to know we weren’t able to stop the fire before irreparable damage was done.
“Nice work out there, Wilson,” Chief says as he stalks by me on the way to his office.
“Thank you, sir,” I answer, but he’s already blown by me.
Those generic words are about as close to high praise as the gruff man ever gets, so I’ll gladly take it. He seems to have a soft spot for me, as the only woman on his crew, but he’s careful never to take it easy on me. Treating me differently wouldn’t do either of us any favors. I want to earn my place here, and I work hard every day to prove my worth.
“Chief’s little pet got a ‘good job.’ Why don’t I ever get any compliments from the big guy?” Meyer whines.
Giving him an exasperated look, I quip, “You’d have to do something right for that to happen, Meyer.”
The other guys from our crew chuckle at the gentle ribbing as we stow our gear in our lockers. This is comfortable. It’s how we operate. We razz each other and give each other a hard time, until it’s time to work. Then we have each other’s backs, like a family would.
Giving me a short break, Meyer turns to Briggs. “I saw that pretty cashier from down at the bakery watching me work the hose.”
Briggs shakes his head amiably, but doesn’t take the bait. We all know he’s been on a couple of dates with the curvy stunner, and things are starting to heat up between them. If she was checking out anyone as we fought the fire, it was definitely handsome, quiet Briggs, not obnoxious Meyer.
With that, we fall into our usual routine of bickering over who is going to make dinner and who will be stuck with cleanup duty.
Once we have that relatively settled, I head into my locker room to get cleaned up. The room isn’t much more than a bathroom and tiny dressing area, but it’s my space where I can be alone for a moment to process, without the guys underfoot.
I watch as the shower’s hot spray washes the black grime down the drain. Normally, I wash off quickly, so the guys don’t accuse me of using too much hot water, but right now, I need a few extra minutes of alone time. The steamy water beats down on my tight shoulders and releases some of the tension stored there.
As is usually the case, my thoughts drift back to Graham. Today, I have an excuse for him being top of mind. He just lost everything in that fire. I ache to reach out to comfort him, but I’m unsure if it would be a welcome gesture.
Even as I’m reminding myself that he clearly isn’t interested in pursuing a relationship with me, I’m already planning out in my mind what I’m going to say when I check on him.
5
GRAHAM
The front desk clerk at the rundown roadside motel by the highway clearly doesn’t want to be at work. He checks me in and hands me a key card with barely more than a grunt in greeting.
After entering my grungy room, I can’t do much more than shake my head in disgust. Talk about a lack of charm… This place is as unwelcoming as can be. I just hope I don’t get bedbugs from my time here.
I’ve never really considered this fleabag motel to be my competition, even though they are the only other establishment that rents rooms within a fifteen-minute drive of Charming Falls. It’s clear now that they offer nothing for me to worry about. My homey, quaint inn is on a completely different level than this barren shell of a building. Well, it used to be. I guess my inn isn’t anything anymore.
I flop down on the scratchy, floral bed cover that looks like it is straight out of the 1970s, but not in a classic, vintage way. It’s more like they haven’t changed the dated décor in numerous decades, and they likely got it from the clearance bin back in the day.
A spring from the thin mattress gouges my back, so I twist around to find a comfortable position. I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to suffer through staying here, but my options are severely limited at the moment.
Apparently, this is one of the problems with living where you work, along with never really having time off. I somehow managed to put all of my eggs in one basket, and that basket burned to the ground.
At least the inn is insured, but it will likely take a while to get that all sorted out. It’s not like the insurance company shows up with their checkbook in-hand, ready to make things right. They’ll probably drag their feet about coughing up a settlement payment.
I try to close my eyes for a bit of rest, but sleep eludes me. Visions of orange flames greedily eating everything I own dance behind my eyelids. I wish Nacho was here to keep me company, but a friendly neighbor agreed to keep an eye on him. Since I didn’t want to uproot the already terrified cat any more than absolutely necessary, I quickly agreed to the arrangement.
The only thing that brings me any peace in the lonely motel room is daydreaming about the beautiful firefighter, who caught my eye the moment I moved to town. I normally force myself not to think about her, since I can’t be with her, but I deserve a bit of pleasure after the trauma I’ve endured today.
It’s easy to come up with a scenario to fantasize about Miranda, since I usually make myself stop thinking about her whenever she enters my mind. I picture her handling that huge hose, like the strong badass that she is, but instead of her bulky protective gear, she’s wearing a skimpy red bikini that shows off her luscious curves.
I’m already growing firm in my pants from just imagining it. Deciding not to gatekeep myself at all tonight, I reach for my phone, intent on finding some porn that features a female firefighter. I’ll put my thumb over the woman’s face and imagine Miranda. That will likely do the trick in a matter of moments.
