Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 44188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 147(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 147(@300wpm)
But I’m putting that behind me because I finally landed this job—despite the intimidating interview with the chief and battalion chief. And now that I got it, I’m going to prove how well I fit in. There won’t be awkwardness. They’ll respect me as much as they do anyone else.
“What. The fuck. Is going on here?”
At the sound of the captain’s angry boom, we all jump and throw our cards down, sitting up straight.
This is how I know deep down these are nice boys. They have the grace to go completely shame-faced, hurriedly scooping up the cards and tossing me my shirt.
“Nothing, Captain,” Scott says, yanking his own shirt back on.
Our hard-assed captain, Ted MacKenzie—Blaze—is like the Greek god of firemen. Tall, tattooed and beef-alicious, he’s young to be in charge—maybe in his mid-thirties. And what he lacks in years he makes up for in gruffness. The man is two hundred fifty pounds of pure authority and alpha male dominance. A fact I find far too sexy for my own good.
And he definitely isn’t happy right now. Laser beams shoot from his striking blue eyes. Anger radiates from him, letting us all know we’re in deep shit.
“Aw, we’re just indoctrinating Sparks into our poker games, Cap,” Rocket says.
“Sparks, huh.” His eyes shoot to me and he flicks his brows. “Fitting.”
I square my shoulders to hide the fact that I’m cowed. And turned on. My pussy clenches and damn my nipples—they prod the inside of my sports bra. But I’m like this in Blaze’s presence all the time. I’m always attracted to the guys who don’t think I’m good enough.
What does that say about me?
And since this guy seemed pissed as hell to be assigned a female to his crew, I suddenly question the wisdom of our little strip poker game. He looks ready to commit murder. We each receive our own special glare, which travels slowly around the circle until we’re all sweating like kids sent to the principal’s office.
“This is not a goddamn frat house. Burke is here to work, like the rest of you. She’s not here for you to stroke your pathetic dicks. You’re going to treat her like any other goddamn fireman—fireperson—whatever.” He throws up an impatient hand. He jerks his chin at me. “Put your shirt on.”
My cheeks flame, but I hold his gaze with a note of defiance as I slide it on.
No matter—he’s back to lecturing the guys, pointing his finger at each one in turn. “We haven’t had a woman on the crew before, but that doesn’t mean you lose your goddamn heads. I expect every one of you to figure out how to be appropriate starting today. Right now.” He points at the ground. “You don’t make suggestive remarks, you don’t talk about sex around her and you sure as hell don’t try to get her to do a goddamn strip tease. If I ever see this kind of shit again, I will write you up on harassment so fast your heads will spin. Is that perfectly clear?”
“Yes, sir,” they all say immediately.
“And God help any of you if I ever hear you try anything with her. You will lose more than your job, you will lose your nuts.”
The guys, who had been sitting up straight for the brutal lecture, sink down in their seats.
“This firehouse is a strict no-fraternizing zone.” He looks at me for that.
I had been slightly flattered by the protective note to his lecture, but now white hot anger pours through me. I stick my chin out but somehow manage to keep my mouth shut.
But seriously? Is he implying I’m trying to seduce my co-workers? What a prick.
He keeps the blazing gaze fixed on me. “And you. You worked your ass off to get into this firehouse. Don’t fuck it up now.” He turns and walks away.
I’m on my feet—definitely too pissed to be around these guys a minute longer. I stalk to the tiny cubicle that serves as my bedroom for the night and shut the door, reaching for a book of matches with shaking hands.
The scrape of the head and bright flare of the flame calm me. The sulfur stings my nostrils and sends the signal to my brain. Like an addict getting a hit, my body responds. My muscles relax, heart rate slows. My pleasure centers activate.
I hold the match, letting it burn down to my fingers before I drop it in the metal wastebasket. I’m safe with matches. If anyone knows the danger of fire, it’s me. I light another, then one more until I’ve soothed the tiger.
I flick another match. Damn the prickly captain for screwing up what would’ve been a perfectly genial way to break the boys in. I drop the match in the trash can. Damn the prickly captain for making me want to prove myself to him all over again. I drop the matches on the desk and stand up. Fuck it. I am going to give him a piece of my mind.