When Sparks Fly (First-Responders Book 1)
EXCERPT FROM PERILOUS LOVE, Book 1 of the Changes on the Horizon Duet:
EXCERPT FROM SAVING ROBOR, Book 2 of the Changes on the Horizon Duet:
Copyright
When Sparks Fly
Copyright © 2016 J.A. Essen
Editing by Mrs. J.A. Essen and My BETA Krew =)
Cover design by:
Essen-tial Designs
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Thanks go out to my amazing group of gals that help edit each and every one of my books. Without you, the fans would be screaming for my head on a spike.
Also to Mary and the girls at Between the Sheets, PR. It has been a pleasure working with you on this release.
A cat. Yes! That’s what I need to get. Then I can
help
it get stuck in the tree just outside my second story bedroom. Surely that’s a good enough reason to call the fire department out, right?
Ugh! What am I thinking? Seriously, Macy, you’ve
got
to get over this phase.
First, it was the surf instructor. Yeah, the surf was the
only
thing he was getting up.
Poor guy.
Next, it was Ryan from that twenty-four-hour fitness joint. Nothing like sharing a few hot, sweaty workouts and then finding out he has a beautiful, leggy blonde wife when she walks up and throws her arms around him.
And puts his wedding ring back on his finger, shooting daggers at me with her eyes the entire time.
What a douche!
Now, it’s Fireman-Joe, aptly nicknamed as he could easily pass for Joe Manganiello’s younger brother, but I digress. He’s the absolute epitome of Greek god Adonis. He’s a solid foot taller than my five-foot-four stature with arms that look like they were chiseled by a master sculptor and that back… Oh. My. God. I caught him doing pull-ups on the rack in front of the station one day and nearly face-planted onto the pavement, stumbling over my own feet.
I changed my jogging route a month ago when I caught sight of him washing down one of the rigs. He was like one of those calendar models you see come-to-life. Ever since, I’ve made sure that my return route includes the sidewalk directly in front of the bay area. More than once, I’ve garnered a smile from him. The first time it happened he nearly melted my panties, but he’s never even tried to wave me.
So yeah, back to the cat-stuck-in-a-tree idea. Maybe it’s not completely absurd. I mean, at least it would be a way to get a conversation started. I’ve considered catching something on fire, but I’m sure he wouldn’t visit me in prison. The cat idea is the best one I can come up with. I’m so tired of my hand going numb,
jilling-off
to just the thought of the way his body would feel on top of mine.
That hypothetical kitty isn’t the
only
one that needs rescuing!
Another Wednesday; another time to torture myself with scorching hot images of Fireman-Joe handling his big hose.
Yeah, it’s lame, but my dreams have gotten ridiculously erotic, and my mind just won’t turn off.
Work, if you can call it that, was less than stellar. I’m working through the last semester of student-teaching for my Bachelor’s Degree in Education. The kids are great, don’t get me wrong, but Mrs. Hanover, the teacher I’m working under, is a total bitch. It’s her way or the highway.
How the hell am I supposed to develop my own teaching technique if I constantly have to adhere to someone else’s? It’s just insane.
But, it’s Wednesday, so on to the other insanity in my life; self-torture.
Stripping out of my blouse, slacks, and flats, I grab a lime-green sports bra from the top drawer and pull it on over my head. This, of course, is sports bra number two, which is required to carry
the girls
. Stuffing, poking, and prodding, I finally coerce them into place. I may be short, but I’m not lacking. If anything, these damn thirty-four Ds are a curse more than a blessing. Big tits and a big ass. Everyone else says I’m blessed. I say, try and find clothes that actually
fit!
I slide into a pair of black running spandex and some ankle socks. Snatching my Adidas off the rack, I plop down on the edge of the living room coffee table and lace them up. iPod and ear buds are waiting at the entry table, and I get them strapped on and in place. After locking the front door behind me, I slide the key into my sports bra. I’m greeted by a healthy breeze and warm, eighty-degree temperatures, as I step off the front porch.
Yep. Let’s get this started!
The smell and taste of the salty breeze blowing in off the shore is pure heaven. The sloshing of the waves as they break near the shoreline is more than inviting, but I have other plans for getting wet today.
Turning at the park, I head back in toward the city proper. After another mile and a half, I can see the glint of the sun off the chrome bumper of the main hook-n-ladder truck parked outside of the station.
Yes,
I totally looked up online the proper terminology for that big machine so when we finally do meet, I don’t come across as a total ditz. After all, knowledge is power. Now, I just hope I timed it right, and he is out there washing it. Or even better, working out. Mmm.
I slow my pace as I approach; I don’t want to be completely obvious as to my gawking intentions.
I’m within about twenty yards of the driveway now, and I’m hoping it’s going to be worth the jog today. For once, luck is on my side because there he is. My gorgeous, sweaty Fireman-Joe. He’s doing that undulating thing they do with the big, thick ship ropes, only with the truck’s fire hoses instead. Every muscular inch of his arms, torso, and back is rippling with each up and down swing. The sweat glistening on his skin amplifies the ink across his back.
Ooof!
The air suddenly rushes out of my lungs as the entire left side of my body impacts the concrete surface. My head smacks the hard surface a split second later. Through the pulsing haze, I can see Fireman-Joe already sprinting in my direction.
Great, this is going to be one hell of a first…
*****
Holy fuck. My head feels like it’s been split wide open. There’s a low, constant hum in my ears, and the light is entirely too bright to open my eyes completely.
Nothing looks familiar.
“Hello?” My voice is weak and shaky from uncertainty. “Is anyone there?”
“Hey Seth, she’s waking up man,” comes a male voice from somewhere beyond my immediate vision.
There are some shuffling sounds, and the door to the little room creaks open.
“Well, hey there. You took quite a fall out front.” His voice has a deep timbre, and even in my current predicament, it sends goosebumps running up my legs and straight to my core. “You’ve got a pretty good scrape up the side of your left leg. Your left arm is pretty rough too. I managed to get your injuries cleaned up and bandaged while you were unconscious.”
I start to sit up on the twin sized bed. He offers me his hand, helping me to right myself. Looking at the large gauze pad on my leg, and the matching, but smaller one on my arm, I can’t help but start sniffling.
“Hey now.” He slides a chair to the bed right in front of me with the back facing me. Settling down onto it he takes my right hand in his very large, rough hand. “It’s nothing serious. I’m also a paramedic,” he says with a wink. “I promise the scrapes are the worst of it.”
Using my left hand, I wipe away a tear. “How long was I out?” My voice is still shaky, but I think it’s just his close proximity and the physical touch of his hand this time.
“About forty-five minutes. It looks worse than it really is. How are you feeling? Any vision issues?”
I look around the room and don’t seem to have any problems reading posters on the far wall. “My head is still pulsing a bit, but I can read that
Hooters
poster just fine.” I point at it and smirk.
His cheeks heat a little. “Yeah, sorry. We don’t get many beautiful, half-dressed female visitors.” There’s a little twinkle in his warm, chocolate-brown eyes.
I bite my bottom lip and look down,
yes
, failing miserably at hiding my amusement.
“Let’s get you up and walking around, shall we,” he says to break the tension.
Seth stands up first, without letting go of my hand, and helps me to my feet.
“Thank you, Seth,” I say as I let go of his hand and start making my way to the door. He scoots past me in two strides and pushes it open for me, standing clear for me to walk through. “Such a gentleman.” I slide my fingers down his arm as I pass by. His eyes light up as he gives me one of the most beautiful smiles I’ve seen in my life.
