“I’ll talk to Alex about getting you a coffee date with him,” I offer, stirring the pot and anxious to deflect from my own never-dating-Bastian situation.
“Don’t even think about it!” Jude snaps, much to our surprise. We’re only kidding around, but he looks like the prospect of meeting his crush is the worst possible outcome.
“Just joshin’, man.” Sam cocks his head, curious about Jude’s overreaction, but soon tilts his attention toward me. “What’s happening with Film School Dickhead?”
“Nothing much. It’s kind of fizzled.”
I’m pretty proud of how smooth I am. I can do this. I can handle a down and dirty double-secret-probation affair with my boss. Jude and I are not on the same shift and I’ll never run into Sammy on the job, so my secret’s safe from the guys who know me best.
And then because the universe thinks I’m a smug cow, the door opens and in swaggers Roman Rossi, the hottest guy on the planet, headed to the counter to grab a coffee. His golden skin is sheened with sweat, the damp patch on his shirt further testament to his expended energy and the heat of the day. In a long list of things that affect me on a deep, cellular level, Roman’s legs are at the top. Absolute rock-solid pillars I can’t take my eyes off of.
Jude lets out a low whistle, back to his usual flirtatious self after that uncharacteristic outburst about that hockey player. “Wow, the LT sure does dirty up well.”
Roman looks up, meets my gaze, and it’s as if no one else is in the room. Or at least that’s why I think his gorgeous mouth cracks in a smile upon seeing me out with other people.
I don’t smile back.
His grin falters, but he regroups quickly when he realizes I’m not alone. By the time he’s walked over, his expression has evened out to neutral.
“The probies are plotting, I see.”
“Hey, Lieutenant, how’s it going?” Jude asks cheerfully. “You live around here?”
“A few blocks over.”
Roman’s not looking at me. In fact, he’s doing a bang-up job of ignoring me. But you know who isn’t?
Sam.
Jude’s still chatting to Roman about running along the lake path or his favorite Frappuccino flavor or the best places to find men. Actually I’ve no idea what they’re saying because my ears are filled with a rushing sound brought on by the knowledge I’m keeping a secret from my friends and that one of them has rumbled me.
“Enjoy your day,” Roman says finally, and we all wave as he heads back to the counter to pick up his coffee to go.
Jude is still checking out Roman because the man checks out anything with a pulse and a penis. “Didn’t know he lived around here, did you?”
“Yeah, he’s on Greenview,” I say, “with his sister and kid.”
“Cool, cool. Okay, let me get the check.”
“No, don’t,” Sam and I say half-heartedly while Jude mumbles, “not buying it, fuckers,” and goes to the cashier.
Knowing he only has a couple of minutes before Jude returns, Sam doesn’t waste a second. “You’ve got to be fucking with me.”
I meet his hard-nosed gaze, very aware that Roman is still in the diner and that I’m trapped on all sides. “What?”
Head shake of disgust at my miserable efforts at evasion. “Tell me it’s just flirting and no one has had an orgasm in the other person’s presence yet.”
“It’s just flirting.” It emerges from my mouth with a certain indignation.
Sam, usually such a cool cat about everything, almost has a breakdown. After a couple of tense seconds where I think his head might spin a full 360 degrees, he manages to get his emotions under control.
“How do you think this is going to go? Because it can’t end well. One of you will be forced to move, assuming you don’t fuck up first while getting distracted on the job.”
“No one’s going anywhere. It just needs time to burn out.” That’s what I’ve been telling myself. Insisting.
“Who else knows? Does …” He jerks his chin at Jude.
“No, and no one else will.” I don’t mention Wozniak because it’s yet another reason why I should be quitting Roman. Sam and I are hissing at each other now, testy little felines. For a brief second, I consider telling him that this is Diner Dude, he of the cherry pie rom-com moment, that it’s not my fault and practically fated but Sam’s acting like such a diva that I don’t think he deserves that context. “It’s not going to last. And then I—we’ll forget it ever happened.”
Sam looks more concerned now than angry. “He shouldn’t be doing this. He’s your superior officer and—”
“This isn’t all him. I made it very clear I was interested, made it hard for him to say no. It’s just sex!”
The couple at the next table are now all ears.
This seems to cheer Sam. “Sullivan the Seductress. You and your wiles are going to be the death of you.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I’m aware that Roman has left. I should be happy he’s no longer in my orbit and I can act like a normal person, but instead I feel oddly abandoned. Not his fault, just that I wouldn’t mind if he could acknowledge me—us—in public.
It can never happen. Never mind all the other drama, I have strict rules about dating firefighters, so why am I feeling off-kilter about it?
“Me and my wiles are overrated.”
Sam stares at me hard. “You really like him, don’t you?” His tone is gentle, a direct counterpoint to his censure of before. The relief that he’s no longer mad at me lulls me into dropping my guard.
“God, I do. But I can’t.”
He frowns, thinking it through. “Not just because of the optics or the rules.”
I grimace. I don’t see Sam as much as Jude but he’s always been more perceptive.
His next words throw me. “I’ve already told you a million reasons why you shouldn’t be banging, but I’m never going to say you shouldn’t because it stops you from falling for someone you might lose.”
“That’s not—okay, that’s some of it.” Am I so transparent? The death of my mother on duty means I’m very aware of the potential for pain if I were to lose someone else I love. Not that I love Roman. That’s not—is it? No. Yet I could easily fall for a man who cares so deeply about his family, his crew, and his job. Roman is the whole package and any woman would be blessed to have him in her life.
Sam covers my hand with his. “Find yourself a stock broker or an accountant. Nice and safe.”
“Sure,” I respond morosely.
I’ve dug myself a whopping great hole here.
I’ve been holding Roman at arm’s length, insisting that making it official is potentially detrimental to our careers. But that’s an easy fix. I could switch to another platoon at 6 and solve my Woz problem in one fell swoop. I’d get some ribbing from co-workers but after a while no one will care. My father would give me hell, maybe make trouble for Roman, but we’d get over that hump. Roman’s already said he wants to date.
Because I like you. And I think you like me.
If I keep heading down this road, it could develop into something that could break me and my doing-just-fine-right-now heart. The boss-candidate excuse has been keeping me safe from going all in. I might be an adrenaline junkie but when it comes to the heart, definitely not.