GirlNextDoor (7 page)

“We gotta get the damn report done.”

“It’ll wait,” the chief said. “Seriously.”

“Hey, we don’t smell that bad,” Griffin protested. “I want
to get home.”

“Believe me, your wife would much rather that you were late
and clean. Go on, get cleaned up before you catch fire.”

They went out, muttering. Nolan sat down with his own
coffee. “That smell’s going to be here a while.”

John met his friend’s eyes across the table. Nolan was
half-smiling, casual. His eyes had their usual morning calm. As if he didn’t
know about Lucy.

Relieved, he glanced at Waldron. The captain shrugged.
“Crane,” he said, “us chiefs got chewed out for not spending enough time with
our paramedics. So I came over this morning and had a cup of coffee with you.”

“Oh.” Nolan nodded gravely. “Well, Chief, we certainly
appreciate your time.”

“Yeah. You got problems, you know where to find me.” He
filled his coffee mug a third time and stalked out.

Nolan glanced over at John. “Fighting with the wife?”

“Yup.”

“Let’s go see how bad the squad is,” Nolan said.

And that was that. Nolan either didn’t know or didn’t mind.
They sprayed the cab of the squad down with air freshener, which didn’t cover
the kerosene smell, but did add the cloying scent of flowers. Then they had a
better idea and wiped everything down with vinegar. It helped, a little. Before
they had time to try anything else, they got a run. Fistfight outside the
middle school, possible broken nose. Which of course meant possible concussion
too. By the time they got it cleared, they had a call to an elderly man who had
trouble breathing.

John was glad to be busy. It kept his mind off things.

They were headed back to the shop for lunch when they got
another call. Baby not breathing.

Nolan drove fast and without speaking. John knew that his
partner hated kid calls as much as he did. Too many things could go wrong with
a kid. Tiny veins, tiny airways. Hysterical caregivers. And sometimes it was a
straight-up accident or sudden illness, but too often they saw other bruises
and marks from previous injuries, or evidence of gross neglect. Once they’d
arrived at the scene to find the baby three days dead and his mother
falling-down drunk. They never talked about it, but John knew they were both
saying the same one-word prayer in their heads—
Please, please, please.

This day their prayer was answered.

The “baby” was actually two years old. Her name was Amelia,
and her airway was clearly obstructed, but she was sitting up and breathing
with effort. Her lips and nails were blue. John got her started on oxygen. The
mother was clearly upset. She kept clenching her hands and biting her lip, but
she kept her voice and face calm in front of the child. A penny, she thought.
The toddler had pulled over mom’s purse and a bunch of change had spilled out.
The mother thought she’d picked it all up, but maybe a coin rolled under the
couch.

It made sense. Except for her troubled breathing and a light
scrape on her knee that was several days old, John couldn’t find a mark on the
child. She was clean, well-fed. And most importantly, she was managing to
breathe just enough on her own.

“Transport?” Nolan asked quietly.

“Yep.” John turned back to the toddler. “Would you like to
go for a ride in an ambulance?”

Amelia’s big brown eyes studied him suspiciously over the
top of the tiny oxygen mask.

“Your mommy will come with us,” he added quickly.

She nodded solemnly. “Sick.”

“What, honey?”

She looked to her mother. “Mommy, sick.”

“You feel sick?” the mother asked quickly.

Before anyone could react, Amelia leaned forward and
vomited. John pulled the oxygen mask off so she didn’t suffocate. It got vomit
all over her face and hair. She heaved again and managed to splash the carpet
and couch as well.

She’d had grape juice for breakfast, evidently, and Cheerios
with milk.

Amelia tried to breathe and couldn’t. Her brown eyes grew
wide and frightened, her little hands waved frantically as she realized she
couldn’t pull in any air. John felt his own anxiety rising. They could try to
trache her and hope they were below the obstruction. Otherwise there weren’t
many options.

Nolan walked behind the child, reached around to put both hands
on her stomach just below her rib cage, and gently picked her up. She pitched
forward and vomited a third time.

The penny splashed onto the coffee table in a puddle of
bile.

The child took a deep breath and began to scream.

As her mother moved in to comfort her, completely ignoring
the mess, John sat back on his heels and closed his eyes.
Thank you, thank
you, thank you.
When he looked up, Nolan was watching him. His partner gave
a little nod. They were thinking the same thing.

They did the routine paperwork. Nolan talked to Amelia’s
pediatrician on the phone. He said to bring her over as soon as she was cleaned
up. John wrote some aftercare notes. They worked more slowly than usual,
deliberately, while they observed the child. She remained stable and breathing
well. The grateful but vomit-covered mother offered them coffee or a sandwich,
which they declined. “We have to get back,” Nolan said. “We have a friend
coming in for lunch.”

John froze in his tracks. Lucy. He’d forgotten all about
Lucy and her lunch plans.

Nolan practically trotted back to the squad. John followed
him with a mixture of guilt and dread.

* * * * *

By the time they got back to the medic shed, the fire crew
had already latched on to the woman. They’d left a note.
We’ve got Lucy and the food and we’re
not giving them back.

John and Nolan went up to the firehouse and found Lucy
holding court in the conference room. She’d brought a picnic basket full of
handmade sandwiches, fruit salad, gourmet chips and real lemonade. John thought
she’d only meant to have lunch with Nolan, but she’d brought more than enough
food for the whole station.

Captain Waldron was sitting beside her. He seemed to have
forgotten his fight with his wife. “Say that again,” he urged. “
You’re
a
drug pusher?”

Lucy laughed. “Not the way you think. I work for a drug
company. I go charm doctors into prescribing more of our products for their
patients. It’s all legal and pretty, but yeah, I push drugs.”

“Prettiest drug pusher I ever saw,” Lawson said.

“You better have saved us some food,” John grumbled.

Lucy stood and went to kiss Nolan on the cheek. “Hi,
sweetie. Hi, John. There’s lots of food,” she promised. “Come, eat.”

John’s anxiety suddenly vanished. It was okay. Lucy was
there, holding Nolan’s hand, and all the firemen were looking at him and her
and shaking their heads, but it was okay. His behavior had not come between
Lucy and Nolan, and not between Nolan and him. They were all in the same room
and nothing had exploded. It was going to be okay.

Waldron looked at him and rolled his eyes, but no one else
even knew he was in the room.

He was starving. He got a paper plate and loaded it up, then
sat back in the corner and watched the woman work the room.

Nolan looked so happy beside her. He must know that every
man in the room was envious. Even Waldron, long-married and committed, if not
especially happy, looked as if he wanted to be the guy holding her hand. They
all knew Nolan was gay. They knew he had the girl and didn’t want her. And they
all wanted her and couldn’t have her.

If they only knew
, John thought wryly.

He ate slowly and he watched Nolan bask. It was all
delicious.

* * * * *

The firemen took Lucy on a tour of the station. Nolan went
along to protect her while John gathered up the leftovers and carried them back
to the shed. The firemen would still come looking for them, if they got hungry
enough, but at least they’d have to walk across the yard to do it.

John thought, all things considered, he’d handled the lunch
well. He felt better than he had all morning. He flopped down on the couch and
put his feet up on the battered coffee table. Maybe he could grab a little nap
before their next run. His belly full of sandwiches made him drowsy.

The outside door opened and Lucy came in.

He looked past her. “You lose Nolan?”

“He’s doing something with their stupid computer again.”

“Yeah,” John said, nodding. “He keeps trying to put controls
on it, and they keep getting around them and then crying when they catch
viruses.”

She sat down at the other end of the couch. “I had a nice
time last night. Thank you.”

John wasn’t sure which part of last night she was referring
to. She seemed so damn innocent in the light of day. Sweet. Wholesome. “Me
too.” Maybe it had just been a freak thing, an impulse. Maybe the polite thing
to do was pretend it never happened. But his cock had other ideas. It stirred
just from being near her.

“This place is really…crappy.”

“I know. But we get the best coffee.” He shrugged. “And it’s
not like we can’t go hang at the station if we want to. We don’t usually get
that much down time anyhow.”

“Uh-huh.” She glanced at the pillow and blanket folded
neatly at the end of the couch. “You sleep here?”

“The night shift does, sometimes.”

“This must be worse than Nolan’s futon bed.”

“It ain’t comfortable.”

“You ever had sex here?”

John blinked. “Here? No.” His cheeks felt warm. “Never gave
it much thought. Although I did have a sex dream about it once.”

“Oooh,” Lucy purred. “Tell, tell.”

“You’re really a brat, aren’t you?”

“You already knew that. Tell.”

John shifted a little, trying to conceal his ever-growing
arousal. “There wasn’t much to it. I was here, on the couch, and this woman
came in. And she said something about how grateful she was we’d saved her
grandfather.”

“Was she somebody you actually knew?”

“No. I don’t think so. I mean, I didn’t recognize her. But
in the dream I did. Like I’d seen her before. But I don’t think she’s anyone
from real life.”

“So what happened?”

John could feel his cheeks burning now. “There isn’t much
more. She said she was so grateful, was there something she could do to repay
us, I said we couldn’t accept any kind of gratuity, and then she was all over
me.”

“Was she hot?”

“Well, yeah. You ask a lot of questions.”

Lucy nodded. “Fantasies interest me. Would you do it?”

“What, in real life?”

“Yes.”

“No. I couldn’t. I mean, it wouldn’t be ethical.”

“Would you pretend?”

Krulak’s cock ached against the zipper of his pants now.
“Pretend.”

“Pretend. Here. With me. Tonight. I could be grateful.”

“I…uh. I’d like to, but…”

“What time’s good?”

John closed his eyes, fighting for control.
Right now is
good. Go lock the door.
“I don’t know,” he said, looking at her again. “It
would depend on when they get runs. But, um, they always go to dinner at
midnight, if they don’t have a call.”

Lucy smiled brightly. “Midnight it is.”

“Uhh…”

Her smile faltered. “No?”

“Yes. Absolutely yes. Just, um, if there’s anyone here,
other paramedics…”

“John, I have done some sneaking around before.”

“Okay. Should I wear my uniform?”

She thought about it. “Nooo. Too obvious.”

“Right. Wouldn’t want that.”

She smiled again, then leaned to kiss him chastely on the
cheek. “I can’t wait.”

John glanced at the clock and counted the hours until
midnight.

Chapter Six

He parked his car around the corner and walked up to the
shed. It was five minutes to midnight. Thankfully the squad was gone. He hoped
they were at dinner and not on a run that would bring them back too soon.

This is crazy
, he told himself.
You’re going to
get caught.

The idea sent a shiver down his spine. It wasn’t fear. His
body felt alive, tingling again. This girl and her ideas had his sex drive
shifted into overdrive. He felt better than he had in months. All his stupid,
crazy thoughts about
different
sex were gone. He was sure of himself
again. He could feel the testosterone flooding his veins.

He turned the light on. Then he turned it off. They might
see it from the firehouse. But if they did, they wouldn’t think anything of it.
He turned it on again. By its harsh light, the room looked even dingier. On the
other hand, groping around in the dark was not exactly in the spirit of things.
He crossed to the little office and turned the light on in there, then went
back to turn the main light off. The side lighting softened the grunge of the
space, yet let him see clearly.

Yeah. Big manly straight guy, and you’re worried about
the ambient lighting. Nice.

John took the condom out of his pocket and put it on the
little table beside the couch. He sat down, put his hands behind his head,
tried to look casual.
Too cocky.
He sat forward, put his elbows on his
knees. Too awkward. He tried to remember what the heck paramedics did when they
weren’t sitting around waiting for their illicit sex partner to arrive.

They make coffee.

John shook his head. Nothing would tip off the night shift
to his presence faster than fresh coffee. Maybe he should be doing paperwork or
something. Checking his equipment.

He glanced down at his crotch. The equipment was all ready.
Eager. Just thinking about Lucy made his cock stir.

He wondered what she’d told Nolan about her late-night
outing.

And just that quickly, his passion was cooled.

Nolan. Damn it. Nolan didn’t want her. Not sexually. He’d
said it was okay. At least, Lucy said he had, and she didn’t have any reason to
lie. He should have just talked to Crane about it during their shift. This
sneaking around was making him nervous. Just talk to him, man to man, make sure
he was cool with it. And if he wasn’t, then John would apologize and never
touch Lucy again.