Fearless (Pier 70 #2) (3 page)

Probably because he worked so much. When he wasn’t working a shift at the station, he was running his roofing business.

First and foremost, Noah was a firefighter, and he lived for his job, having been on Engine 45 for the better part of the last thirteen years. Becoming a firefighter had been his lifelong dream, and it kept him on his toes, which was all that he cared about. He’d learned long ago that keeping busy was the best way to avoid what was lacking in his life.

His last semi-relationship—more like friends with benefits—had detonated more than five years ago. He hadn’t been interested in repeating that anytime in the near future—his track record with relationships was rocky at best—so his social life was on the fritz. Which explained why he spent so much time at the station with the guys he considered family. They were easy to be around, so it wasn’t a hardship.

“Pearson!”

Sliding one eye open, Noah nodded his chin in a silent affirmation that he was awake as Captain Miller passed through the room once more, this time on his way to the kitchen.

“S’up?” Noah met the captain’s dark gaze.

“Now that I think about it, aren’t you supposed to be on vacation?”

“Tomorrow,” he confirmed. If a seven-night cruise with his stepsister and her friends could be considered a vacation, then yes. Personally, Noah saw it as more of a favor, with the bonus of an all-expense-paid boat ride attached. The week following would be vacation.

Since the day Milly had told her father about the trip, Larry Holcomb had been worried that his sweet baby girl—Noah knew Milly, she was mischievous and lighthearted, but sweet? Nah, he couldn’t see it—was going off into the great unknown without a chaperone. Didn’t seem to matter that Milly was thirty-one years old and had been on her own since she’d graduated from college at twenty-one. Larry was definitely a little overprotective of his daughter, at least from what Noah saw.

He still remembered the night he’d been roped into going. He and Milly had been having dinner with the parents while she filled everyone in on the upcoming trip. Out of the blue, Milly had mentioned it would be nice if Noah went with her, that it would make her feel more at ease. An unabashed manipulation if he’d ever heard one.

Of course, Larry had thought that Noah going along with her, to keep an eye on his baby girl since it was clear her best friend would be otherwise occupied getting married, was a brilliant idea. He had even offered to pay for the trip. Noah remembered the way Milly’s eyes had widened, her smile radiant as she’d pleaded with him to say yes. And because she’d asked so nicely, he hadn’t been able to tell her no. So, rather than work, Noah was being forced to relax.

His phone chimed and he fished it out of his pocket.

Speak of the devil.

The text read:
Please tell me you’re not planning on backing out on me.

He wondered how many times she’d said that in the past two months. Eight? Nine? Twenty?

Not planning on it. Flight leaves in the morning.

Yay. Gonna need someone to drink with. Gannon’s a hot mess.

Noah grinned as he typed,
The guy’s getting married. What did you expect?

Married. That was a word that sounded strange, even in his head. Not once in his life had Noah given serious consideration to settling down and getting married. Sure, he’d dated a few guys who had potential, but only once had he actually given it a fleeting thought—definitely not serious, though. Granted, at the time, he’d been young and stupid, so he’d done the only thing he’d known to do. He’d laughed off the idea of a happily ever after, effectively sending the only man he’d ever found himself in love with running for the hills.

Noah tried his best not to think of that time in his life. He’d been barely twenty-three, and settling down hadn’t even crossed his mind. Sure, now, at thirty-eight, there had been a few times in the past couple of years that he’d wondered what it would be like. Perhaps it would be nice to come home to someone occasionally, rather than an empty apartment.

His phone chimed again.

Oh, and there’s someone I want you to meet.

Noah frowned.

Milly had mentioned setting him up with someone a while back, but he had adamantly refused, hoping she would get the hint. Noah didn’t have problems finding guys on his own, thank you very much. He definitely didn’t need his stepsister setting him up with her friends. That was a recipe for disaster on all fronts. What if Noah didn’t like the guy? Or vice versa? The last thing he needed was to upset Milly, even if she was simply trying to do a good deed—her words.

Still not interested, Milly.

Noah stared at his phone, waiting for her response. It finally came.

Oh, but you will be, trust me.

With a heavy sigh, Noah was about to give her a long lecture on why he didn’t want to be set up when another text came in.

Flight’s about to leave. Gotta run. Be prepared to relax and have fun for a few days.

Knowing she wasn’t going to listen if he rehashed his many reasons for her minding her own business, Noah typed:
That’s the plan.

It was his only plan, actually. He would be boarding a ship, not knowing a soul other than Milly and Gannon, so he figured he’d have plenty of time to himself. And since he hadn’t taken a vacation in too many years to count, Noah was secretly looking forward to it.

Not that he had any intention of letting Milly know that.

Two

Sunday, May 29
th
(the next morning)

Dare groaned as he popped open one eye to find the sun shining through the blinds in his small apartment. Since it was all one room, that little bit of light filled up the whole space.

This was bad.

The sun should
not
be that bright.

Not yet.

“Son of a bitch.” He rolled over, reached for the nightstand, and found his phone. He gave a quick peek at the screen. “Aww, hell.”

At that exact moment, his phone chirped. Rubbing his eyes, he pulled up the text.

If you’re still in bed, I’m going to personally kick your ass.

Milly.

Great.

Not for the first time, Dare was grateful he was gay. He couldn’t imagine getting on a woman’s bad side and dealing with her wrath indefinitely. Dealing with Milly on a part-time basis was stressful enough.

He tapped out two words—
I’m awake
—then dropped the phone onto the mattress beside him.

In an instant, he was out of bed and on his way to the shower, forcing his boxer briefs down his hips and letting them land somewhere on the floor along the way. He’d overslept and now he had less than fifteen minutes to get presentable and out the door.

After a quick piss, he flipped on the water in the shower, then turned on the water in the sink, purposely ignoring the reflection staring back at him.

Rushing out of the bathroom while the water warmed, he headed for his closet. Opening the door, he yanked on the chain to turn on the single bulb above his head. It flickered once, then came on. With a bright white glow casting everything in a harsh light, Dare stared at his options in clothes. On one side of his closet, he had at least forty T-shirts, most of them white with some logo or another on the front. The other side had a variety of shorts—athletic, swim, cargo.

None of which he was looking for.

Pushing his comfortable attire out of the way and ignoring those that fell from the hangers, Dare finally found the last pair of jeans he owned, along with a forest-green polo shirt. He shook them in a weak attempt to remove some of the wrinkles. To this day, he couldn’t remember why he’d bought either—if he had to guess, Grams had forced him to—but he was pleased he’d had the forethought.

A couple of weeks ago, Roan had convinced him to go shopping to buy clothes for the cruise, during which Dare had argued profusely. For one, Dare made a point to avoid shopping at all costs. He’d read somewhere that there were around 109,500 shopping centers in North America—all of which were on his
I’m-not-gonna-go-there-if-at-all-possible
list. And two, they were going on a freaking cruise. Shorts and a T-shirt seemed quite logical.

But
no-o-o
, Roan had insisted that Dare also have jeans and shirts without holes in them.

Nitpicky bastard.

Despite his aversion to more clothing, Dare had bought what Roan had insisted he get. And all of that was packed in his suitcase, still with the tags—in the event he didn’t wear them, there was no reason he couldn’t take that shit back. That was his motto.

Passing back through his bedroom, he tossed the clothes on his bed, glanced at them, then picked them up again. Maybe the steam from the shower would help smooth them out. With hangers dangling from his fingers, he then went into the bathroom and hooked the hangers on the towel bar.

Ten minutes later, he was shaved, showered, and dressed in the clothes that still looked as though he’d pulled them from the back of his closet ten minutes ago.

Eh. It had been worth a shot.

Five minutes more and he was in his truck, heading to the airport, praying he had everything he needed. He patted his pocket, confirming he had his wallet and his phone—the only two things he really needed as far as he was concerned.

Yep. Both there.

He took a breath for what felt like the first time that morning. It was a damn good thing he didn’t have to do shit like this often. He was quite content with his regular routine of rolling out of bed, yanking on shorts and a T-shirt, then making the three-minute drive from his apartment to the marina.

“Good thing you’re my best friend, Cam.” After sharing his thought with his truck’s interior, Dare turned on the radio and put his foot to the floor.

The drive to the airport took less time than he’d expected, which allowed him to make up a few minutes but still didn’t give him much of a buffer. He found a spot in short-term parking, grabbed his suitcase, and made a beeline for the doors.

“Cam, I hope like hell you appreciate this, man,” Dare mumbled to himself after he checked his luggage and made it through security—thirty-three minutes later.

Jesus.

As though his best friend heard him, Dare’s phone vibrated once, signaling a text.

Praying it wasn’t someone intending to give him a hard time, Dare pulled it from his pocket as he double-timed it toward his gate, squeezing between the slower-moving people.

I assume you’re on the plane.

Not Milly. Or Cam.

Roan.

Dare stared at the screen and tapped out a response as he maneuvered through the crowds lined up at the other gates.

Of course I am.

Smiling to himself, he kept moving.

You overslept, didn’t you?

Okay, so maybe he was a little predictable.

Rather than give them anything more to worry about, Dare responded with:
It’s all good. I’m on my way. See y’all in a few hours.

Then he tucked his phone back in his pocket and prayed like hell he made it on time.

Because if he didn’t, there would be hell to pay.

And he was pretty sure hell’s name was Milly Holcomb.

When his shift was over, Noah headed for his apartment. It’d been a slow night, and he had managed to get a couple hours of sleep, figuring he’d grab a couple more on the plane. The short drive gave him a few minutes to plan out his morning, which he did for the twentieth time since yesterday. As had been the case for most of his adult life, he wasn’t the type to leave anything to chance.

Once inside his small, one-bedroom apartment, Noah dropped his bag on his bed, careful not to wrinkle the comforter. He set out unpacking it, putting the clothes where they belonged—clean in the drawer, dirty in the hamper—then tossed the bag on a shelf in the closet. On his way out, he grabbed the clothes he would wear to the airport, which he’d already picked out, ironed, and had lying on the small chest in his closet.

Twenty minutes later, he was shaved, showered, dressed, and ready to go, leaving him a solid hour before he needed to head out. After putting away the few dishes he’d hand-washed the night before last, then taking the trash down to the dumpster, Noah pondered what to do with the rest of the time. Rather than start a load of laundry and pace the living room to count down the minutes, he opted to go, hoping to beat the mad morning rush—if there was any such thing—at the airport. He’d heard security could be a bitch, and Noah was nothing if not prepared. Or he tried to be, anyway.

He made it from his apartment to Austin-Bergstrom International Airport in record time. Even managed to make it through security and to his gate with plenty of time to grab a breakfast taco and coffee, which he did, eating it while he waited in the empty area that would soon be filled with passengers ready to embark on their destination.

Sometimes being prepared was lonely as shit.

Glancing around, he noticed only one other person was there—a guy in a suit tapping away on a laptop while holding a phone to his ear. He seemed a little out of place on a Sunday morning, but, from experience, Noah knew that work didn’t always wait for a weekday.

While he sat patiently, he sent his mother a text to let her know he was leaving, checked the baseball scores on his phone, and then shot a quick text to Milly, giving her an update. It was that or wait for her to text him half a dozen times. The woman was a little uptight, and Noah only hoped that once everyone was on board the ship, she would relax some. If not, what was the point of this trip, anyway? Well, other than two people getting married.

His phone vibrated.

I wish everyone was as prepared as you.

If Milly only knew he’d arrived more than an hour early.

Grinning, he looked up to see that another passenger—this one female—had joined him and the suit.

Noah messaged Milly back:
Everything cool?

Other than my fear that the ship will leave and half the wedding party will still be on dry land?

Yes, other than that.

Noah took a breath, then relaxed in his chair, watching as more people began to arrive at his gate while it seemed the floodgates had opened and the airport was beginning to buzz with anxious travelers. He did not envy those who were running to their destination. That shit would make him crazy.

Then again, his OCD probably made most people nuts. Along with being unorganized, being late was one of his pet peeves.

His phone vibrated again.

I think it’ll all be fine. At least I hope it will. Have a safe flight and I’ll see you when you get here.

Will do.

With that conversation out of the way, Noah leaned his head against the window behind him and closed his eyes. He had nothing to do but wait for them to announce they were boarding, so he figured now was as good a time as any to catch another power nap.