Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
I fucking loved drooling over that man in his uniform.
“Sheriff?”
“Huh?” I turned to see who’d called me and found all four firefighters staring at me with cocky grins.
Daevon laughed. “Uh, we asked you if you wanted to ride in the bucket with your boy. What do you say?”
As much as I would have loved to play fire truck with my boyfriend, I shook my head. “Oh, ah… no, thanks. What are you guys doing, anyway? What’s with the bucket ladder?”
And since when is our relationship totally cool with the Hobie firehouse?
“Mr. Jones’s cat didn’t take kindly to our efforts this afternoon and took his leave up the old oak tree,” another guy said, gesturing up at a tiny little fur ball in the huge tree. “Lieutenant Wilde is gonna fetch it.”
“That ain’t my cat,” Mr. Jones said from his front porch. “I don’t have a cat.”
I turned to face the little old man. “Hi, Mr. Jones. Sorry about all this,” I called.
“You gonna catch those fuckers that torched my place?” he spat.
Otto spoke too low for Mr. Jones to hear on the porch. “Yeah, Sheriff. You gonna catch those fuckers?”
“Shut up.”
“What did you say?” Mr. Jones shouted from the porch. “You tell me to shut up, son?”
“No, sir! I said they’re going up to get the cat.”
“It’s not my cat, goddammit. It’s just a stray.”
“I understand,” I assured him. “But I believe they’d like to rescue it all the same.”
Otto and his buddies were cracking up at this point, and I was wishing I’d never decided to come help the asshole.
“I gotta go,” I mumbled, turning to my car.
“Stay,” Otto said with a chuckle. “Please stay. Don’t you want to see how exciting it is on the Hobie fire force?”
“Riveting,” I cracked. “I’m starting to wonder if this whole thing wasn’t a prank call at my expense.”
“Load up, Wilde,” one of the men called. “Poor little fire kitten needs your big strong manly self to rescue it. When I tell you to smile, pose pretty with the kitty so I can Instagram it.”
Otto rolled his eyes and shot the guy the bird before climbing up onto the vehicle and making his way to the bucket.
Just then my radio squawked with a call from Luanne to report to another scene.
“Gotta go. Be careful up there,” I called. “Wouldn’t want you to get taken down at a scene by a four-pound feline.”
“Smart-ass,” Otto said, turning his middle finger to me. “If I end up mauled to death by this hell cat, you’re the one who’s going to have to tend to my wounds.”
Wolf whistles split the air as his crew went wild with the teasing. I felt my face heat up as I headed to my car. I heard the guys telling Otto he was the official new cat daddy.
“Like hell I am,” he said. “I’m not a cat person. I’m a horse person.”
“Maybe your horse needs a new barn cat,” someone suggested.
“I am not taking this cat home. You can forget about it right now. One of you is taking it to the animal shelter after work,” Otto said.
I smiled as I realized he was happy at his job and worked with a great bunch of guys. I already knew everyone at the firehouse from having worked with them for more than six months already, but it was still reassuring to see them all giving each other hell in the way men did when they enjoyed each other’s company.
It didn’t surprise me at all when I let myself into Otto’s cabin that night, to find him asleep on the sofa with a tiny flame-orange kitten curled up on his chest.
“Don’t say a word,” he mumbled in his half-sleep.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Hello, Fire Kitten. Or shall we call you Scaredy Cat?”
“No, something more manly. Blaze maybe. Or Spike.” His eyes were half open and he looked edible.
“Mm,” I said, thinking. I sat on the edge of the sofa near his hip and ran my hand along his stubbled cheek before petting the soft puffball on his chest. “How about Princess or Puffy?”
“Tiger. Hellcat maybe,” he said with a pout. “Ooh! I know… DemonShanks.”
I laughed. “No DemonShanks. First of all,” I said, scooping up the tiny little thing, “it’s a girl cat. Secondly, it’s the sweetest-looking baby ever. I’m thinking Gidget.”
“Fang.”
“Gatito. Means little cat in Spanish.”
“Asesino. Means killer in Spanish.”
The kitten’s wide eyes blinked sleepily at me, and its whiskers were about ten times the size of the little thing’s face.
“Otto. This is the cutest little baby ever.”
“Then you keep it,” he grumbled, turning his back to me. “They made me bring it home.”
“You are so fucking adorable; I can’t stand it. They didn’t make you do shit.”
“Mmpfh.”
I kissed the kitten’s tiny head and placed her down on the floor so I could take her place on top of Otto.