Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 101466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
And yes, I knew I was acting like a coward.
Calling Miller, I waited until he climbed into the truck. I backed up and started driving just as Casey burst out her front door, waving her arms and looking fierce.
I sped up, leaving her behind, watching her in the rearview mirror. I couldn’t hear what she was yelling, but I knew some curse words were thrown in and that, once again, she was feeling stabby.
Chuckling, I looked at the pile of wind chimes on the floor of the passenger seat. I wouldn’t put it past her to break in while I was gone and search for her wind chimes, so I took them with me. I was glad I had gotten my key back from her. I doubted she would resort to actual B&E, but in case, I didn’t want it to be too easy for her.
She was furious. I knew that. I should be ashamed of myself, but I couldn’t recall the last time I’d had this much fun with someone. Casey made me feel…playful.
Not a word I would normally associate with myself. But there it was.
I was looking forward to her next move.
Game on, indeed.
Chapter Eight
JESSE
Igot to the station, stowing my bag in my locker and heading to the kitchen. The guys were sitting around, drinking coffee. A container sat in the middle of the table, nothing but crumbs in the bottom. I poured a coffee and sat down, indicating the container.
“What did I miss?” I asked, hoping it was from one of the wives whose cookies I wasn’t fond of.
“Chocolate chip cookies. Best I’ve ever tasted,” Mark replied. “You missed out on a massive treat.”
“Thanks for saving me one.”
He shook his head. “Couldn’t. The instructions were very clear. Enjoy, but Thorne doesn’t get one.”
I frowned. “Who would say…” I trailed off. “Dammit. Casey was here?”
She’d come and brought cookies to the station, making sure I got none. That was worse than taking them to Cal. Way worse.
Mark grinned. “You’ve pissed her off good.”
I looked down the table to Jackson, who still had half a cookie in his hand. I held out my hand, palm up. “Please.”
He looked at me, then his cookie.
“I’ll owe you,” I begged. The cookie was golden and thick. Bursting with chocolate chips. I could almost taste the butter and sugar.
He frowned, then shook his head. “No can do. She promised other rewards.” Then he shoved the cookie into his mouth.
I stood, shaking my head. “You all suck. One cookie. You could have saved me one cookie. She wouldn’t have to know.”
Mark laughed. “And risk losing another batch of these babies? No way.”
I stomped off and headed to the garage. I suddenly had a lot of pent-up anger I needed to blow off. Grabbing the buckets, I added some soap. Time to wash the trucks.
The rest of the day went as usual. We had some calls. Did some training. Made dinner. Played cards. Being a little town and a small crew, things were different here than a big city. Some shifts, we slept through entire nights without a call. Others, we were constantly busy, only finding time for power naps in the day to keep our energy up.
The next morning, Mark and I made an appearance at the local school, talking about fire safety. I always enjoyed those interactions with the kids. Answering their sometimes-funny questions. They listened closely, always anxious to talk and query what we said. They loved being able to put on a helmet and when we let them wear our jackets for a moment. Many of them marveled at how heavy the equipment was. One little girl named Candy looked up at me with her huge blue eyes and informed me she was going to be a firefighter like her aunt Winnie. I grinned because I knew who Winnie was. I had worked with her, and she was a dedicated, respected firefighter, leading a station in Mississauga.
“You follow your dreams, Candy,” I encouraged.
Back at the station, I stowed my gear and headed down for lunch. The guys got up from the table, and I spied another empty container in the middle. A metal one. I reached over and pulled it toward me.
A few scraps of noodles and baked cheese clung to the edge.
“Who made lasagna?” I asked. “And why is there none left?”
Mark strolled by, scraping his dish. “I got the last piece. Incredible.” He grinned. “Casey cooks as well as she bakes.”
“Casey brought this?” I grunted in disbelief. “Let me guess. None for me.”
The guys all laughed.
Dammit, she knew my weak spot. She was feeding my station brothers but cutting me out.
I turned to the fridge and grabbed the stuff for a sandwich, only getting in one bite as an alarm went off. I wolfed down the rest of it as we rushed to the truck, pulling on our uniforms and climbing on board.