Page 6 of Fire Fight

Behind me, one of the guys snorted, and Chief shot them a glare.

“Noted,” Aspen said. “Well, if you wouldn’t mind letting me pick your brain, I’d love to sit down and chat when you’re off shift next.”

My eyes flicked up to the large, glowing-red wall clock over our heads, my mind mentally tabulating the hours between now and the end of my shift.

“I’m off tomorrow morning at eight, so how about we meet at the diner for breakfast shortly after that? My treat.”

Aspen was already shaking her head, and my brow scrunched in confusion. Aspen laughed. “Yes to breakfast,” she clarified. “But it’smytreat. You’re doing me a favor here, not the other way around.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, and I didn’t miss the way those cinnamon eyes flared as my biceps bulged, like she thoroughly enjoyed what she saw.

Or maybe it was less about the muscles and more about thesleeve of tattoos that engulfed my left arm. Women loved that shit, right? They loved the thrill of getting with a bad boy, and once upon a time, I was about as bad as they got.

“Tomorrow then,” I said, greeting her with a smirk when her attention flew back to my face.

She grinned in response, unbothered that I’d caught her checking me out. “Tomorrow.”

three

. . .

CREW

The following morning,I pushed into the diner, wide awake despite not getting any meaningful sleep. Over the second half of my shift, we’d had four calls that had kept us out most of the night. Any time I’d get a chance to rest, the bells would go off again.

Dusk Valley FD wasn’t as exciting as shows likeChicago FireandFire Countrymade firefighting seem. Mainly, it was routine chaos, a mundanity that, after five years, I’d settled into easily.

As the door swung closed behind me, the waitress, Bonnie, who had been working here since I was a kid, approached with a wide, nicotine-stained grin.

“Morning, Crew. You want your usual seat at the counter?”

I shook my head. “I’m actually meeting someone,” I said, gesturing to the box of files under my arm in explanation.

“Take your pick then,” Bonnie said. “I’ll bring over coffee and menus.” She curled a brow on the last word, her inflection making it more of a question than statement.

“Menus would be great. Thanks, Bon.”

The place was mostly empty; it was that odd time of year between winter and summer tourists when Dusk Valley became aghost town. The same locals who came in every morning like clockwork were in their usual spots, so I had my pick of tables. Scanning the room, I didn’t see Aspen anywhere, so I selected a booth along the exterior, where the windows let in the early-morning sunshine, and slid in with my back to the wall.

When Aspen walked through the door, I was struck momentarily speechless by how beautiful she was. Dark jeans clung to her shapely legs, the hems disappearing into a pair of black, shit-kicking combat boots with a thick sole. She had on a tight black tee tucked into the jeans and a charcoal grey windbreaker thrown overtop to ward off the chill. Chocolatey hair was pulled back into a tight bun at the base of her skull, and she wore no makeup that I could tell.

In a word, Aspen McKay was breathtaking. I knew I had to keep my wits about me with this one.

Bonnie appeared from the back, and I didn’t miss the way the older woman’s gaze slid up and down Aspen’s person, inspecting, though her expression remained bored.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Crew Lawless?”

Bonnie pointed in my direction, and I stood as Aspen’s gaze locked on mine, a small smile curving her mouth as she walked my way.

“Miss McKay,” I said when she stood in front of me. “Good to see you again.”

“Aspen, please,” she told me as she slid into the booth opposite me. “You as well. I’m sure you’d much rather be sleeping, so I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me.”

“It’s really no problem at all.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she dropped the argument when Bonnie approached with another mug and carafe of coffee.