Series: Fever Falls Series by Riley Hart
Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96922 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
“Okay, tonight was strange. I admit to getting some attention from all this, but that was more than usual.”
“I have a feeling it’s just the beginning, Jace. I hope you can handle it.”
“I can handle it alright. Just takes some getting used to,” I said. “Like peeling potatoes.”
“Jace Kruse, I didn’t have this planned for tonight, but somehow this feels very you. And I don’t mean that in a bad way. I just picture you with a beer in your hand, making dinner for some friends and maybe watching a movie or talking about whatever.”
“That sounds about right. We get out and have our fun, but nothing wrong with settling down around the house for a good time too. My buddies and I get enough action on the job, so we typically like to settle down when we’re home.”
“That’s gotta be stressful.” His expression turned serious, the way I sometimes noticed with people whenever I brought up my work.
“It’s stressful, but most people seem to think we’re all gloom and doom about it because there’s so much at stake. I don’t revel in anyone’s place being on fire or anyone being in danger, but it’s almost a sport. This is what I train for, this is what I’m an expert in, so when an emergency comes up, it’s like I’m a quarterback and it’s game day. And there’s something a little exciting about never knowing when game day is…that I have to be ready for it every day. And some days, there are so many games, it’s like our station’s Olympics.”
“That’s definitely not what I would have expected,” Dax admitted.
“But then when we have a few days off, we need a break from having game days every other day of the week. So I like for people to be able to chill and relax with me.”
“I bet you have really good friends.”
“Sure do. Most are from the station. You spend a lot of time with the guys, so it’s how it works.”
“Of course. Most of my friends are in this same industry too. It’s definitely easier being around people who get what I do. Obviously not on the same level as you, that’s not how I meant that. I have enormous respect for your job, because God knows there aren’t that many people willing to be the Batmans of the world.”
“That’s not the first time I’ve heard that,” I observed. “But there are plenty of us in the world. And it’s a good life when you know that what you’re doing really matters…that sacrificing your own safety actually makes a difference, even if it’s just in one person’s life. And if you’re lucky like me, you get to see just how many people can be touched by what you do.”
Dax wore a pensive expression. “Well, not exactly the way my job works. I don’t get to see that part of humanity often. I tend to see the conniving and scheming and double-dealing.”
“I see all that too, don’t worry. I’m just lucky to get to see the other side, to know that it’s there. Some people are goddamn awful, but they’re the exception, not the rule. Most guys…they got a good place in their heart. Even if they don’t care to show it to everyone. Even if they feel like they need to hide it because they want the world to think they’re Mr. Tough Guy.”
“Well, I am Mr. Tough Guy,” Dax said with a smile.
“I bet. Now get me those potatoes done so I can get them going.”
15
Dax
What I enjoyed most about Jace was how easy it was to talk to him.
There was something unusual about being in his home, making dinner with him…well, if that’s what I could call peeling seven Russet potatoes. But there was something pleasant about it too.
While Jace finished the fried chicken, I set the table in the dining area beside the kitchen.
His place wasn’t flash and designer chic the way I was used to seeing with my friends. His was more like Nance’s—traditional furnishings and decor. A few pictures of Jace and his friends and family were displayed on a console table alongside the liquor cabinet. It felt like a home, and I could see why people would gravitate to it to sit and relax with a guy like Jace, who, along with his many admirable traits, was obviously a good listener. Perhaps too good, in that way that made me nervous that he was possibly picking up on more through our brief conversations than I cared for him to know. Or anyone, really.
“Okay, here we go,” Jace said as he set a plate of fried chicken in the center of the table and the bowl of loaded mashed potatoes beside it.
Mac drooled as he walked alongside Jace, clearly wanting a taste of the food, which, I had to admit, smelled so fucking good.