Ride the Fire (2 page)

Jesse Rose’s smile lit his handsome face as he wrapped Sean in a manly hug, slapping him on the back. “Dude, was that boring or what? Thought they’d never stop preaching about us being the future of mankind and shit.”

Sean drew back, playfully ruffling his best friend’s hair. “Scary thought, huh?”

“You know it! So tell me, what’s the plan? Made up your mind yet?” Still smiling, Jesse arched a blond brow. As if he knew damned well that hearing the words was a mere formality.

Sean sucked in a deep breath, and forced down the flutter of fear in his heart. It was just the thrill of the unknown, that was all. “You and me, the few and the proud. We’re gonna see the world, man!”

His friend slung his arm about his shoulders. “I knew I could count on you.”

“Always, Jesse. Always.”

Emotions assailed him, a cacophony of trepidation, anxiety, amazement. And hope.

Hope, because as terrifying as the tasks laid before him were, the miles left to travel, all these intimidating thoughts and emotions had one important thing in common.

They were those of a sober man.

But for how long? Would he screw up tomorrow, next week? Even now his hands trembled as he clutched the mug, longing to skip the much-anticipated reunion with his team. To jump into the Tahoe and make tracks to the liquor store outside of town, grab a bottle of bourbon to add some kick to his coffee. Replace the raw pain of reality with the comforting haze of oblivion.

Closing his eyes, he clamped down hard on the temptation and beat it into submission. If he went down that road again, he might as well be dead.
No.
When he finally joined his family on the other side, he’d go to them as a man they could be proud of, not the mean, drunken wretch of the past two years. The man who’d became so sloppy and inattentive at work, he’d cost Tommy Skyler his firefighting career and nearly his life.

That man isn’t me. Never again.

Heading inside, he rinsed out the mug and placed it in the dishwasher. Turned off the coffeepot. Wiped down the counter. Watered the ivy on the windowsill. Anything to keep him busy and his mind off another drink, not to mention his dubious reception in—he glanced at the kitchen wall clock—forty minutes.

A deep sigh escaped his lips. No sense in putting off the inevitable. Even if he’d rather get caught in a back-draft with no hope of escape than face five of the people he’d let down time and again.

“Jesus, grow a pair and get going, Tanner.” End of pep talk.

Before he could change his mind and do something truly idiotic, like call in sick, Sean snatched his keys off the counter and headed out the door.

The drive into Sugarland had never seemed so long, and singing country music along with the radio hadn’t provide much of a distraction. Then suddenly he was at the station, parked in his usual spot around back, almost frozen in place by the difficulty of taking the next few steps.

If they’d strung up banners and shit, he was going straight home.

He slid out of the Tahoe, locked up, and pocketed his keys. Walking around the side of the building, he steeled himself for whatever was to come. Awkwardness? Or, worse, sympathy?

Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the bay and found . . . complete normalcy.

Zack Knight, their FAO—fire apparatus operator—had his back to Sean and was busy buffing the quint to a candy-apple shine. A couple of guys just getting off C-shift were standing around, bullshitting with Julian Salvatore and Sean’s best friend, Lieutenant Howard “Six-Pack” Paxton. Clay Montana, who’d moved to A-shift and taken Tommy Skyler’s vacated spot, was fishing around in the back of the ambulance. Sean scanned the group for Eve Marshall, Station Five’s only female firefighter, but didn’t see her, and figured she was inside, maybe manning breakfast. A day just like any other.

Thank fuck.

Sean cleared his throat. “Is that all you lazy bone-heads have to do, stand around and jaw like a bunch of old fishermen?”

A bead of sweat rolled down his temple, the only outward sign of the knot in his stomach. Conversation halted and all eyes swung his way, wary and uncertain—until he gave them a tentative smile.

“Hey, Cap!”

“How’s it hangin’?”

“Damn, you look good! Don’t he look good?”

The general explosion of heartfelt well-wishing wrapped around him like a blanket, eased a sore place in his gut as the guys migrated toward him. No cheesy banners, but he had to admit the backslapping that ensued was all right because it meant his boys still gave a fuck about him. This was their way, he realized, of making sure he knew they respected him—or at least were willing to forgive. Even after the crap he’d put them through.

And, yeah, he must have gotten some dirt in his eyes, making them sting.

Dammit.

“Let the man breathe,” Six-Pack boomed, pushing the others aside and promptly ignoring his own dictate. He scooped Sean into a bone-crunching bear hug that lifted him off his feet with no effort whatsoever, which was saying a lot, since Sean wasn’t a small guy.

Sean laughed, the sound strange and rough to his own ears. “Put me down, you big ox!”

Six-Pack did, and Sean had to look up at him, standing this close. His best friend was six feet six inches and two hundred fifty pounds of solid, intimidating muscle, if one didn’t know the man was a teddy bear. Sean was no shrimp at just over six feet and two hundred pounds, but he was much leaner in build. Hell, everyone was smaller next to the lieutenant.

Six-Pack grinned at him, brown eyes dancing. “Man, it’s great to have you back. Trying to keep these guys in line is like trying to herd baby ducklings.” This prompted a round of good-natured protests.

“Then it’s a good thing Captain Hard-ass is back to save the day, right?”

A couple of them grimaced and Julian coughed, and Sean took perverse pleasure in their discomfort. “What, you didn’t think I knew? There’s nothing wrong with my hearing, you know. But hey, all’s fair. I’ll just have to work on earning a different nickname.”

Clay smirked. “Like Captain Candy-pants?”

“Smart-ass,” Julian said, punching his arm.

“How about Captain Cool?” Sean suggested, which elicited more laughs and a few ribald comments. He loved this. How long had it been since they’d felt comfortable enough to stand around and joke with him instead of running in the other direction when they saw him coming?

Out of sheer self-preservation, his brain slammed the door on the answer.

The lieutenant waved a hand. “Come on, slackers. Get to work and let Sean get his bearings.”

The two men from C-shift said their good-byes and left. Zack went back to buffing the quint, Clay to whatever he was doing in the ambulance, probably stocking the meds. Yep, a normal day. Except for one thing.

“Where’s Eve?” Sean asked Six-Pack. He’d be damned if he’d admit how much it stung that she hadn’t come out to say hello.

“Inside, making your favorite breakfast, though you’re not supposed to know. Act surprised.”

“Oh.” Pancakes and bacon? Especially for him? Well, that sure went a long way toward soothing his remaining unease. In fact, it caused a weird little bubble of something in his chest that he couldn’t define. Something different from how relieved the guys’ greeting made him feel. “Damn, that’s really thoughtful of her.”

None of
them
had made his favorite breakfast.

“Ain’t it? Why don’t you go inside and say hey. I’m gonna go call Wendy Burgess back about the charity thing.”

“What charity thing?”

“You know, the auction and calendar deal.”

“No, I don’t.” A sneaking suspicion crept over him that he wasn’t going to like this.

“Jeez, I didn’t tell you when you came to the barbecue? Could’ve sworn I did. The City of Sugarland is holding a firemen’s auction in about three weeks, and also choosing twelve of our guys to do a calendar shoot, all for charity. Wendy and some of the other department brass are taking care of the bigger details.”

Sean eyed him warily. “That doesn’t sound too bad. What are we auctioning?”

His friend smiled, his expression a bit too mischievous. “Ourselves.”

He snorted. “Get outta here! No way.”

“Yep. Us in front of a bunch of squealing ladies, wearing nothing but our fire pants and red suspenders.”

“Hold on. Us? There is no
us
in the equation,” he said firmly. “Have fun living your Chippendales fantasy.”

“Oh, we will, all of us. I already signed you up, my friend.” Six-Pack clapped him on the shoulder.

“Well, you can just scratch my name off the list,
friend
. There’s absolutely no way in hell I’m going to stand around half-naked in front of a bunch of screeching women.”

The other man arched a dark brow. “Even when I tell you the event will benefit the families of fallen firefighters?”

Sean groaned. “Don’t do this to me.”

“Even if your participation could add hundreds or even thousands of dollars that will go to a grieving widow and her children? That you could singlehandedly ease someone’s burden long enough to let them get back on their feet?” Six-Pack speared him with a pointed look.

“You suck,” he declared in defeat.

“I knew we could count on you! Think how much better about yourself you’ll feel, doing a good thing for someone less fortunate.” His friend beamed as they started inside together. “Besides, it’ll be a blast, you’ll see.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m a regular Mother Teresa and party animal, all rolled into one.” Christ, he was forty-three years old, his brown hair turning silver at the temples. What if he looked like the Pillsbury Doughboy next to the department’s young studs? What if nobody bid on him? Now,
that
would be embarrassing. Maybe he should plant someone in the audience to step forward just in case. Problem was, he had no idea whom to ask.

The issue was put on hold as they walked into the kitchen and were greeted by the smoky aroma of frying bacon. Sean’s stomach rumbled in approval. He marveled, not for the first time in the past few weeks, how good it felt to be hungry without alcohol killing his appetite. Now he’d have to watch his weight on top of everything else.

“God, it smells good in here,” he said. At his declaration, Eve turned from the stove to face him, and his stomach did a funny lurch that had nothing to do with hunger pains.

“Well, if it isn’t our fearless leader.”

A broad, dazzling smile transformed her angular face, bright against her smooth coffee-with-cream skin. The smile reached all the way to her big blue eyes, warm and welcoming. Dark hair shot with reddish highlights fell in gentle curls to her shoulders.

Holy shit, she’s beautiful. Why haven’t I noticed before?

Or perhaps he had sometime in the past few months . . . but he didn’t want to dwell on those fuzzy memories at the moment. He didn’t have time to, because Eve was striding toward him while he stared like a witless fool.

She wrapped him in a fierce hug, and he found himself noting how wonderful her taut, sleek body felt pressed against his. How well she fit in his arms, her chin resting on his shoulder, soft, curly hair tickling his nose. Her fresh scent, not floral, but clean and herbal.

“It’s so good to have you back.” She drew away some to hold his gaze. “I mean
really
back.”

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “I’ve got a ways to go, but I’m right where I belong. Just don’t give up on me.” Hell, that last part just slipped out. God, could he sound more needy?

An odd flash of emotion crossed her expression, there and gone. “Are you kidding? We haven’t so far, and we won’t. You’re going to be fine.” Releasing him, she went back to tending breakfast.

“From your lips,” he said softly, but she didn’t hear him.

The way she said that, he almost believed her. Immediately, he missed her heat pressed to his body, the soft words just for him.
Why? What’s wrong with me? I’m her captain, for God’s sake. Hopefully her friend. To entertain anything more is highly inappropriate.

He’d tested the department’s goodwill and stretched it to a microscopic filament. Fooling around with a female firefighter under his watch after they’d all stuck out their necks to save him and his career? That would be the end.

The others drifted in from the bay, saving him from getting too maudlin. Leaning against the counter, he watched them horse around like a litter of goofy puppies, razzing each other and cracking jokes. Julian attempted to steal a piece of bacon from the platter only to get his hand smacked by Eve.

Sean spent a few private moments thanking God he hadn’t lost this, his second family, in the wake of trying to drown his grief. All along, he should’ve been seeking the comfort and strength his friends had had to offer, not pushing them away. Time and counseling were finally getting that through his head.

“Let’s eat!”

Eve’s announcement was met with hearty approval and they all settled around the table, digging in. Sean took a bite of fluffy pancakes and listened to the chatter around him, content to soak in the scene. Okay, so this was good but a little weird. Like he was a guest in his own body, watching everything from a perspective that was suddenly too close-up and bright.

And it frightened him, too, the idea of living up to their faith in him. There would be no third chance. If he failed—

“Right, Cap?”

He blinked at the group, caught Eve and Six-Pack exchanging concerned glances. “I’m sorry. What?”

“I said we’ve decided to wear red G-strings for the auction instead,” Clay drawled, grinning. “Across the front they’ll say ‘Firemen have big hoses.’ ”

“Shut up, moron,” Julian said, pelting the cowboy in the face with a balled-up napkin. “Half the women in the county have already seen you in less, so where would be the surprise?”

Clay snorted. “There’s still the
other
half to conquer. You could get a piece of the action, too, except, wait—you’re neutered now.”