Page 32 of Hearts to Mend

I had to beg Watts to put me back in rotation, even if it’s just light duty. I’d have done anything to get away from that lonely sad place, where all I had to do each day was think. Thank God, I’m here, back in my happy place, where I can deny the heavy truth of my empty life, at least for the next twenty-four hours.

“I heard you have another date tomorrow night.” Rooster elbows me in the side as I walk into the apparatus bay. Now that I’m in a boot and don’t need the crutches, he’s making up for lost elbow time. Apparently.

I glare at him. “It’s not a date. It’s dinner.”

“Exactly what do you think a date is, if not dinner—?”

“And it’s not another date seeing as how we never had a first date.” Except, we did have a first date, way back when we were sixteen. And, yeah, I guess having dinner alone at a man’s home could be construed as a date. Some might even consider that rendezvous last week when Rico made my pussy purr like a contented cat a date as well. But I will admit to nothing, instead changing the subject. “Don’t be such a clucking hen, Rooster.”

With that, Rooster waggles his brows as he opens the door to the firehouse kitchen and lounge, and a whole chorus of “surprise!” rings through the air.

“Oh my God, you guys!” I’m truly surprised and touched. My guys—plus the crew from B Shift who are lingering past noon—have thrown me a party with balloons and streamers and a banner that reads, “Welcome Home.” I pause a little at the awkward accuracy of being welcomed home here, then turn my focus to the cake.

Someone went to Cathy’s Cakes over on Pecan Street with instructions for a purple cake with a frosted portrait of a cartoonishly klutzy blond, barely balancing on a pair of crutches, in turnout gear.

It’s ridiculous, and I love it. I let out a big belly laugh, probably my first since the Stonehaven fire, and try to hide the fact that they’ve brought tears to my eyes. There’s a round of hugs. Drew grabs a massive knife from the drawer and starts hacking the cake into huge hunks of sugar that Rooster distributes.

The cake has turned Drew’s tongue purple when he asks, “So I hear Matty’s coming over to hang out with the cats again tomorrow evening. Guess that means you’ve got another date with the daddy.”

Date with the daddy? I groan.

Naively, when I’d invited Rico in, I’d thought I could fuck him out of my system. Instead, he’s firmly impregnated himself in my system. What a dick! Literally. He gives good dick. It’s been nothing but Rico, Rico, Rico on the brain and in my dreams for the last week.

When he called and invited me over for dinner tomorrow night, I’m embarrassed to admit how quickly I said yes. Didn’t even try to make him work at it. And now that the whole station knows, it’s going to be a long shift of this hazing and an even longer shift of wondering what’s going to happen when I ring Rico’s bell.

Rooster winks at me like he’s reading my mind and says, “Cluck! Cluck!”

* * *

This time, I don’t arrive early. I’d intended to arrive a little late, but I’m an impatient person and couldn’t wait around, so here I am on Inez Rodriguez’s doorstep, exactly on time.

Rico swings the door open, and he’s fucking shirtless, his dog tags looking so goddamn sexy against the rigid bronzed muscles of his chest. He’s barefoot, too, wearing only a pair of relaxed jeans that hang enticingly low on his hips. My mouth waters at the sight of him.

Without a word, he steps right out the door and right into my space, wrapping his arms around my waist and lifting me up. He carries me backward, into the house, and kicks the door closed behind us.

Now I see why he texted me earlier to “confirm consent.” There’s no room for words and negotiations as he takes my mouth in one of those long, languid kisses he’s so good at and walks blindly through his childhood home, carrying me past the kitchen to the hall that leads to the bedrooms.

He’s a fantastic kisser. With a tongue made of magic, he has my pussy purring within ten seconds of entering his mom’s house.

That’s talent.

When he finally sets me down, it’s on his old bed in his old bedroom, which is full of familiar things. Trophies and medals from high school baseball and track and field clutter the shelves beside stacks of tattered sci-fi novels. And beneath me is Rico’s faded blue comforter.

Déjà vu. So many memories of us in this room, studying and doing homework and making out when no one was looking.

Rico reaches for the hem of my shirt and pulls it over my head, then falls to his knees to give my breasts some tender loving care with his hot mouth. Kissing his way down my stomach, he unbuttons my pants and tugs at them. I lift my hips so he can get them down my thighs. He has to take care when tugging them over my boot, but soon enough he’s tossing them across the room, and I lie naked on his bed.

I watch as he strips off his own jeans too. But before I’ve seen my fill, he comes down on me, with his face between my legs, and I yelp as his tongue teases my clit, his hands fisting my hips in a bruising grip.

“I thought you were going to make me dinner, not make me your dinner,” I joke.

Rico looks up at me from between my thighs, then rises and crawls over my body, his weight on his elbows and knees as he hovers over me. He tangles his fingers in my hair so I’m forced to stare deep into those dark eyes. “First, I’ll feed you my cock. Then I’ll make you dinner.”

Well. Shit. That sounds like a really good plan. And if he keeps talking like that, I’m going to make a wet spot on this blue comforter without him ever having to touch me.

But he does keep touching me. With a squeeze of his fist in my hair, he pulls my head back and the sharp little tug on my scalp hurts so good. I moan, and he drowns me in another of his deep kisses.

I adored Rico when he was a boy, but he’s so damn sexy as a man. He makes me desperate for him, ravenous. I run my hands down the tight muscles of his chest and abdomen and palm his thick, veiny length, teasing him like he’s teasing me.

---