Luke’s right. All the more reason to stay away because from the sound of it, Abby Sullivan is going nowhere.
Ten
Abby
I don’t think I’ve ever been so shockingly aware of another human being—and he isn’t even within ten feet of me.
Lieutenant Rossi is seated at the bar and hasn’t glanced my way. Once. Perhaps he doesn’t know I’m here. Jude spoke with him, offered a drink—or bribe, per Sam—and had been denied. No funny business with the LT.
I want some funny business. I want it bad.
I should be mad at him for slapping me with latrine duty all day yesterday, but apparently that’s not enough to bank my lust. Probably because (a) I’m envious of his ability to separate the personal from the professional and (b) he was right. He’s treating me exactly how he said he would—and that commitment to bias-free leadership, to doing his job and staying in charge of his emotions, is strangely attractive in its own right.
He’s ignoring what happened between us and I’m weirdly turned on.
I’m such a loser.
Engaging with my superior officer is career suicide, and I’ve barely started my career. So, I’ll be a good girl and squeeze my thighs together and try not to get all hot and bothered about the back of a guy’s neck. How it’s thick and tanned and positively lickable …
“Earth to Abby?” My cousin Jackie waves in front of my face. After my mom died, I spent more time at my aunt and uncle’s house than in my own because Dad worked 24 on/48 off like I do now. Jacks and I practically grew up together. “What is with you tonight?”
“Nothing!”
Jude’s looking at me curiously. I’m pretty sure I’ve been keeping my eyes to myself, but maybe not.
“She’s probably thinking about Diner Dude,” Sam says slyly.
Jackie and Jude whip their heads my way and say in unison, “Who?”
I can feel heat rising to my face. “Just some guy I met the night of graduation at Fern’s Diner.”
“And you were going to text him? Did you?” Sam turns to the others. “She was pretty excited about it.”
“It’s not going to work out. He gave me a wrong number.” Time for deflection. “So, Samuel, tell us about this latest woman of yours.”
Sam squints. “You never want to hear about my adventures. You think everyone I date is ridiculous.”
“More like gullible. I’m just glad I never have to date you.” Not that I would even if Sam wasn’t the wham-bam kind because firefighters are off the menu. Especially ones with dark, glossy hair and gorgeous, hazel-green eyes, who kiss like you’re a source of oxygen …
“Aw, but I wouldn’t break your heart, Abby.”
“That’s a relief.”
Sam grins. “Might break your bed, though. I’m that good.”
Jackie bats her eyelashes in Sam’s direction. “Oh, if I weren’t married, Samuel …”
Sam takes her hand and kisses her knuckles. “We can flirt, Jacks, but better not tell your bodybuilder husband. I like my pretty face.”
“If I’m in the market for a good bout of bed-breaking sex,” I say, “I’ll keep you in mind.” But Sam’s attention has already latched onto the night’s conquest.
This woman is sharp, with a Cleopatra bob and a royal attitude to match. She’s just walked in with another woman, blond, also well-dressed. Two professional gals on the town. They head straight to the bar and Blondie taps Roman’s shoulder.
He jumps up and hugs her.
Oh. I don’t like that pinch of envy in my chest.
Two seconds later, introductions are being made. Blondie gestures to Cleo, and the LT offers his seat to her. That’s nice of him. Maybe this is a continuation of that interrupted date from the other night. Maybe it’s all resolved and …
I don’t need to see this. The little green monster is coating my insides and it’s not pleasant. I refocus on the conversation at my table just as Jude drops this gem.
“So I heard something interesting about Rossi and your dad.”
I jerk my attention to him. “What about them?”
Jude leans in. “Apparently a few months ago, they got into it at a callout. Rossi was reprimanded and there’s been bad blood ever since.”
“What happened?” I haven’t been keeping up with my father’s career though I imagine Chuck Sullivan angers scores of people on a daily basis.
“Not sure. Gage said it had to do with some sort of territorial pissing contest. Not sure why your dad would even be there but maybe he turns up when the fires are big league. Makes it look like the brass are on the job 24/7.”
That sounds like my father. Show up to grab the glory.
I line up another question, but Jude is no longer paying attention to me. He’s watching the TV over the bar, not that it’s possible to hear anything. From this angle, it looks like one of those sports shows where overprivileged frat bros shout at each other in two-minute increments. A photo of a bearded someone is on the screen and the talking heads are weighing in. Jude takes out his phone and taps the screen a few times.
I slide a glance to Sam who is still eyeing up the Queen of the Nile, not in this conversation at all.
“So glad I came out tonight. Love catching up with my boys.”
Nothing. I share an amused glance with Jackie.
“I think maybe I’ll get up on the bar and do a striptease.”
Still no response. Sigh.
“I’m heading to the bathroom. You coming?” I ask my cousin.
“Hell, no. I’m going to chat up that hunk, Gage Simpson.” Sure enough, Gage has just appeared at the end of the L-shaped bar, carrying a crate of bottles. She holds up a hand. “I don’t care that he can never be interested. He fakes it better than these two.”
Jude is still checking his phone and shooting glances at the TV, but gives me an absent nod. Sam doesn’t hear me at all. He’s monitoring the Rossi-Cleo situation, so I expect he’ll give me a full report later, assuming he makes it back to the land of the living.
Five minutes later I come out of the bathroom and run smack bang into a wall of iron.
“Sorry—oh, hi.” It’s him, the lieutenant. He holds my arms to steady me.
Then he drops his hands like they’ve blistered and takes a step back.
“You okay?” he barks.
“Fine! Listen, I didn’t come here thinking you’d be here. I didn’t know you drank here.”
“Well, it’s the default watering hole for the engine, seeing as the Dempseys run it.”
Put like that, it sounds like a criticism. Like I should have known he’d be here and should know better than to think I could avoid him. I suppose some small part of me realized it was a possibility. Wanted to see him outside the firehouse.
I’m not proud of it.
But his attitude gets my back up. The implication is not nice.
“I should get back to my friends.” I go to skirt him, but he sidesteps and blocks my way.
“Abby,” he murmurs, his voice a velvet rumble. “I didn’t mean that to come out the way it did. Of course you’re welcome to drink here. Anyone is, but especially crew members of Engine 6.”