“Just come find me if you need me,” I call out, carefully walking backwards down the hallway towards the other end of the house.
“I will,” Marco says, his eyes not leaving mine until he disappears from sight.
I’m left feeling off-kilter at the strange effect he’s having on me. I don’t flirt with potential clients, and I definitely don’t flirt with possibly attached ones.
So maybe I’ll just write this whole experience off as a friendly exchange and be done with it.
“Thank you, Renee,” Skye says shaking my hand on their way out. “It’s not quite what I was looking for—a bit too finished for our purposes—but I’ll definitely keep your card in case we find ourselves in need of a realtor.”
I grin. “Definitely do that. It was nice to meet you, though.”
Marco doesn’t say anything else to me, he simply smiles and follows Skye out the door.
Which probably explains why I’m still feeling out of sorts and yet weirdly amused while reviewing the call sheets from the day’s showings later that night. I’m fixated on the last two names written down.
Skye Cook and Marco Rossi—two different addresses, two different phone numbers.
I might not even see them again. Regardless, I’ll get my assistant to do a courtesy follow-up call to Skye, and since she’s already said the property didn’t fit the bill, that will probably be as far as it goes.
But what takes the cake is he had the balls to write “call me next time you want to be caught” next to his phone number. Right next to Skye’s name. That screams player, and if my past has taught me anything, it’s that I’m not interested in philanderers or players, no matter how sexy, charming, and funny the man may be.
No way. Not at all.
2
Marco
“You’ve got to come out with us tomorrow night, Marco Polo,” my colleague—and the biggest pain in my ass—Scotty says.
I turn my head and arch a brow. “Why?” I ask, my mouth full of an Italian beef sandwich. We got back to the firehouse twenty minutes ago and after a hectic afternoon, I’m taking the chance to eat while I can.
My brother Luca plops down on the bench seat beside me and snorts. “Because you pull in the chicks that wouldn’t give him a chance otherwise.”
Scotty flips Luca the bird. “Sit on that and rotate, Rossi.”
I snicker and shake my head. “You know that could be offensive to me since I’m a Rossi too, right?”
Scotty rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t do that to my lieutenant. That would be disrespectful.”
“But you’d do it to me?” Luca asks, brow quirked.
Scotty shrugs. “If the shoe fits.”
My sister Skye and her husband, Cohen, walk into the big open-plan living area of the firehouse. They’re partners in our station’s ambulance, which makes Firehouse 101 a bit Rossi heavy considering that’s three out of us five siblings working together. Lucky we all get along.
Skye comes up and wraps her arms around my shoulders, hugging me from behind. “Aww, come on, big brother. You’re not too old to hit the clubs. . . not yet anyway.”
The rest of the guys snicker and my lips twitch. “Thanks for that, brat.”
She straightens, and I catch a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “I saw for myself the other day how much you’ve still got it.”
“Now this I want to hear,” Scotty says, leaning forward in his seat.
“Marco came with me to view a house for sale and he already had the realtor on the ground and on top of him by the time I turned up.”
I groan. “It wasn’t like that.”
“It was totally like that,” she says. “Then he kept catching her when she stumbled.”
“He probably just wanted to cop a feel,” Scotty jokes.
Skye scrunches up her face. “Not all men are that desperate,” she replies, poking her tongue out at him.
Scotty eyes me curiously. “What was she like?”
“She was . . .” No. I don’t want to go back to thinking about that brunette firecracker. She occupied my brain for far too long this week, considering it was only a twenty-minute exchange and despite having my number, and the cheeky little invitation I’d written beside it, she has not called. I thought for sure she’d at least do a personal follow-up. Instead, her assistant called on her behalf. A little disappointing, but I’m a firm believer in things happening and people crossing paths for a reason. If something is meant to happen, I’ll see her again sometime. Hopefully.
The bells ring out, saving me from answering but also signaling a frustratingly early end to our ‘grab whatever you can and shove it in your mouth’ meal break.
I take one final big bite of my roll before wrapping it and pushing up out of my seat, shooting Scotty a narrow glare. “Just remember, Scotty Jones, I can make life very difficult for you—in the firehouse and out of it.”
“You wouldn’t . . .” he says cockily, but there’s an edge of concern to his voice now. “I was just messing around, Lieutenant. I didn’t—”
I shrug and can’t help but smirk. “Yeah. But you forget one thing, Scotty . . .” He’s behind me now, following as we rush to the garage and step into our turnout gear. “I own your ass for twenty-four hours every three days. It pays not to piss me off. Especially if you want to use me to try and get yourself laid.”
The rest of the crew chuckle.
“Yeah, yeah. Okay,” he mutters, jerking his turnout pants up and hooking the suspenders over his shoulders. “So, you’ll come then?”
“Who else is going? And where?” I ask.
“The whole crew and Throb.”
I groan, shaking my head as I jump into the passenger seat of the truck. “That place is a meat market.”
“Your point?” Luca asks, hopping in and shutting the driver’s door when he’s positioned behind the wheel.
My best friend, Rhodes, looks at me, his eyes dancing with amusement. “I’ll go if you go.”
I let out a resigned sigh. “Some of us are too old to go clubbing.”
“Going out might improve your disposition a bit,” Luca mutters loudly enough for the rest of the crew in the back to hear.
I fight back a laugh. “Heard that, asshole.”
“Didn’t whisper it, jerk-off,” Luca retorts with a grin, turning the key and bringing the truck to life.
The garage doors jerk to a stop as they reach the top, and I grab hold of the oh-shit bar as my brother puts his foot down and we roll out, following the rescue truck in front of us.
Rhodes leans forward and puts a hand on my shoulder. “C’mon, Marky Mark, we haven’t been out in a while, and I need someone to sit with me and watch these fools crash and burn as they try to score.”
“Even Gio’s coming. He never comes out anymore,” Luca says, changing tack. Gio is our youngest brother, bookmarked between our middle sister, Valentina, and Skye.
I shake my head. “That’s ‘cause he’s smart.”
“It’s also because he’s a workaholic who doesn’t care if he never gets laid again,” Luca says with a chuckle. “Like someone else I know.”