The Spark Between Us by Stacy Travis

Chapter Nineteen

Braden

Morning smackedme in the head like a third-grade teacher who’d caught her star student reading porn.

Not enough coffee in the world could make up for how exhausted I was, but I awoke with a smile on my face and an anvil of guilt on my chest.

I should probably have had my head examined. Not probably. Definitely.

No question, I enjoyed last night. I more than enjoyed it, and that felt like a problem. Of course I knew Sarah was an adult capable of making her own decisions about when and with whom she wanted to hook up. The problem was me.

For two years, I’d intentionally dated women where there was no potential of more than a few nights of fun. Easy, uncomplicated. Sarah was the polar opposite—complex, intelligent, beautiful, witty—everything I wanted in a relationship that I’d spent two years convincing myself I didn’t want.

Nothing permanent could ever develop between us. She had five and a half more months in town and had outright called us a fling. Whatever fun we had or continued to have was temporary, but I already knew that the more time I spent with her, the harder it would be to let her go.

I would. I’d have to. No sense worrying about that today.

Last night I’d curled my body around her and fallen into a deeper and more relaxed sleep than any time in memory. Watching her sleep next to me in the morning, her honey brown hair streaking the white pillowcase with light, I felt . . . content.

It had been a long time since I’d woken up feeling happy and hopeful about something other than the adrenaline rush of a fire. All my habits—speeding down the open highway on my bike, working out until I ached, doing emergency rescue and fighting blazes—made my pulse race without risking my emotions. Now, after one night, I found myself wanting to risk it all.

She will leave. Everyone leaves.

That sobering thought shot the wind from my sails. Messing around with Sarah would never end well. Better to call it a one-time indulgence and not let it happen again—if I could hold myself to it. Problem was, I didn’t want to, not at all.

I raked both hands through my hair.

I’d never been so grateful for a twenty-four-hour shift. I needed time away from the house, away from Sarah. I needed to cool the fuck off and spend my time with dirt and dudes who’d distract me from everything at home. The firehouse had always reliably filled that role in my life, especially for the past two years.

Why did I feel like everything was different? It couldn’t be. Not just after one night.

If I were honest, I’d have to admit it wasn’t just one night. Sarah had slid effortlessly beneath my skin the moment I saw her on the ground outside her car. The two weeks since then had been a prison of my own making. Last night, she set me free.

When I sent her off this morning on her new bike, she looked like a spring daisy, glossy hair pulled back into a low ponytail, her sensible black pants creased down the front, her short-sleeved pink sweater hugging her gentle curves. She had her laptop in the basket of her bike, along with her purse, and she’d gathered one pant leg using a rubber band so it wouldn’t get caught in the gears.

She was an adorably sexy, brilliant nerd who’d let me do crazy-hot things to her body all night long.

And the problem was I didn’t want to block out last night and be her roommate again for the next five months and fifteen days.

I wanted more of her.

Dude, you’ve really fucked yourself.

Fortunately, I was saved from the hamster wheel of thoughts when I arrived at the station to find Mitch in the middle of telling a joke. “. . .one was going, but the other was definitely coming.”

“And that’s what she said!” Duke, one of our new engineers, high-fived Mitch. I’d heard the joke twice before and didn’t need a repeat. Duke had his ankle wrapped in an ace bandage, which I might not have noticed, except that his foot sat on the kitchen table while he powered down a bowl of Cocoa Krispies.

“Hey, not super sanitary.” I pointed to his smelly foot a few inches from his breakfast. “What’s up with the foot?”

“Morning, bro.” Mitch rolled his eyes and got up to dump the milk from his cereal bowl.

I intended to pull him aside to ask him if everything was okay with his girlfriend, but I wouldn’t talk to him about it in front of Duke. “Morning,” I grunted. “We should chat later.”

Mitch waved a hand. “No need. All lady problems solved for now.” I cocked my head and studied him, trying to figure out if he was telling the truth or blowing me off. He winked and poured the last bit from the coffee pot into his cup and pointed at Duke before heading out. “You need to hear this one. See you guys on dailies.”

I went to the fridge, but it looked more barren than the one in my kitchen. I arched an eyebrow at Duke and pointed at his foot. “So what happened?”

He scooped a mouthful of cereal and hung his head, shaking it back and forth. “I know, I know.”

“No. Tell me you didn’t!” His guilty look said he did. “Damn. After I warned you?”

We had problems every time guys rotated in from a station with a longer fire pole. They weren’t used to the shorter distance to the bottom and fucked up their landings. Every time. Lots of broken ankles. Many newer stations didn’t even have poles, but ours still had the original one, and most of the guys still liked to use it.

Duke would be lucky if all he had was a sprain.

“I know. I practiced a bunch of times, but I woke up from a deep sleep and rushed out on autopilot. Hit the ground hard.”

“Aw man, that sucks. Sorry.”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt that bad. But I’m probably benched a couple days ‘til it heals.”

“I’m betting a week at least, but I hope you’re right.”

“Thanks. I’ll be cooking for you all, I guess. Speaking of, you want some waffles? There’s extra.” He pointed to a stack I hadn’t noticed.

I helped myself to two, and poured on some syrup. Sarah and I had both overslept, but while she’d managed to seem perky, I felt spacey and was jonesing for any breakfast I could find. “These are good. You make these?”

“Eggo made ‘em. But I’ll hit the store later, and tomorrow I’ll get some hash browns going and omelets. Or, I dunno . . .” Poor guy, he looked miserable, his mouth pulled down into a scowl, body fidgety without exercise.

“Chin up, Duke. This too will pass. Maybe don’t use the pole anymore. Only saves about four seconds,” I chuckled. Firefighters were a stubborn bunch. We tended to learn things the hard way.

“One thing you can do is make sure we’ve always got two fresh pots of coffee,” I said, noticing that both of the pots were down to the dregs. I got the impression Duke hadn’t done much kitchen duty at his old engine company. The coffee job was as basic as it came.

“Sure thing.” He hobbled to the counter and started measuring beans. I took my waffles into the truck bay to get started on the day’s schedule.

Cash was out there polishing the ladder truck and flashed me a knowing grin. I hadn’t worked with him since Sarah’s collision with the rig, and of course he’d be itching to give me shit. I could see in his cocky face that we weren’t going to make it through the day without some comment.

“Hey, we’re going to flow water through the hydrants today, make sure they’re not broken. Head out in ten.” I told him, glancing at the clock on the wall.

He nodded and kept working. “How’s the new roommate?”

“Nerdy and annoying, thanks for asking. Now we’re heading out in nine.” I could be an authoritative asshole when I wanted to be.

“Looked pretty hot to me. You think she wants to socialize?”

“Not with you. Eight minutes.”

And there it went. No chance of getting through my shift without thinking about her. Not that I really had a chance at blocking her out. I liked the thought of her too much.

We each had a busy week at work, and I needed to pull two twenty-four-hour shifts in three days, so we could each cool down in our respective corners. There would be no repeat of last night.

For now.