Sexting the Firefighter (Forbidden Silver Foxes)

Chapter 1 Piper

PIPER

Anonymous: Take a picture for me right now.

Me: Can’t. I’m at work.

Anonymous: So sneak away into the restrooms for a minute. You make me solid as a rock.

“You’re blushing,” Missy says with an intrigued look on her face. “Who are you texting?” My fellow barista peeks down at the very long list of messages between me and Mr. Anonymous, so I return the phone to my apron and get back to serving coffee.

I don’t like to share my men…even though I don’t currently have any in my life anyway.

“Nobody,” I reply. “I was just messaging Jess. She babysits Sonny.”

I pour in the rest of the steamed milk with experienced barista precision. I’ve been working at Bean There for twelve years and counting, and nothing really changes other than the occasional turnaround of staff.

The only positive about working in a coffee shop for over a decade is that you become a gun at pouring milk swans.

“That might just be your best work yet.” says one of our many locals, giving me a smile. Caramel syrup. Semi-skimmed milk. 9:30 AM on the dot without fail, except on Sundays when she attends church.

“I try my best.” I return her smile and toss a cloth over my shoulder, watching her sit in her usual seat—in the far right corner. It’s her spot. So much so that I’m willing to karate-chop those who refuse to move for her when I ask them to.

Anonymous: I think we should meet in person.

Ah. Not this again.

I stare at my phone under the countertop and work out how to softly let him down. Again.

One day he’s gonna go ghost and meet up with another single in town, one who actually wants something real. Me, on the other hand? A few dirty text messages here and there will do just fine.

Caring for an eight-year-old doesn’t leave much time for dating. Not like I want to be on the prowl anyway. Men are all the same—they leave your ass as soon as you realize you’re unable to live without them.

Caleb Rourke was the first man I dated, and he’ll be the last. He fucked off back to Long Island for a career in firefighting and left me pregnant with the kid he still doesn’t know about.

I reply to Mr. Anonymous with a very dirty comment that will distract him from his previous message, and get back to work.

I serve locals, pour coffee, answer questions about my recent vacation. Repeat. It’s easy work and the customers always bring a smile to my face.

But that smile disappears whenever the subject of my birthday comes up. Another lap around the sun, yet here we still are. The town changes, people come and go. But me and Maple Crossing are forever.

Sonny and I went to Saint Lucia two weeks ago to celebrate my twenty-eighth. We came home two weeks ago and I’m still tied up in vacation blues. Leaving Maine felt like a reward until it was time to fly back.

Every time I leave, I remember there’s more to life than small harbor towns and coffee.

But one look at Sonny’s adoring face always straightens me out. He’s a darling. My son who deserves the world. And he’s happy here. So I should be too.

Until my boss comes around with the paychecks.

“Here,” Fiona says, dishing out envelopes that seem to be getting lighter each time a new month turns over. “Take a look and let me know of any inconsistencies.” The exhausted look on her face suggests she’s been dealing with her own battles recently, so I don’t press—never do.

But I tear open the envelope and see that my world just got a little smaller.

Sonny deserves a lot more than sorry barista paychecks.

He’s outgrowing the clothes on his back.

This paycheck was supposed to cover the new dishwasher and stove, and a new wardrobe for Sonny Bunny…

but these disheartening figures tell me that something’s gonna have to give.

Wages stay the same. Living expenses increase every time I breathe.

Anonymous: Show me. I don’t believe you.

I stare at the notification and suddenly my problems are irrelevant. Mr. Anonymous insisted yesterday that we start sending photos, so I’ve been leading him on ever since.

I don’t intend to shove a camera up between my legs just for him to know what my pussy looks like.

Sure, he sounds hot over text and I have reason to believe that his dick is actually that big.

But the man needs his ego toned down a notch.

Men just take until there’s nothing left, and leave afterward to move on with the rest of their life.

Even though they made promises to spend a future with you…

I will be the first to finish whatever Mr. Anonymous and I have got going on here. But for the time being, I’m pretty content. The attention is a nice pick-me-up. Tossing dirty messages back and forth is just about all I have time for, anyway.

Sonny takes first priority. And I intend to work my ass off to ensure he doesn’t grow up to become egotistic like all the other men in my life.

I check out of my shift and walk home. Maple Crossing is a quaint town with lots of appeal. Soft bells jingle from the yachts that sit in the harbor. The gentle sea breeze is pleasant, cooling the sweat that has been stuck to my face for most of the morning.

Summertime attracts a lot of visitors that pop in for a rest stop on their way up to Canada, and they always compliment the town along with their coffee order, completely awestruck like they’ve accidentally stumbled upon paradise.

I saw it that way too…for a short while.

A fisherman lifts a fresh net of red lobster into the air—something that would immediately get my appetite going if it wasn’t for the unyielding dread in my stomach that I’m currently carrying around like an unborn child.

I take heavy steps like I’m in my third trimester.

The summer breeze can’t even improve my mood.

Not much can when you’ve gotta spend the bulk of your paycheck on new kitchen appliances that will probably be broken again in a few years’ time.

The grief subsides some when I return home and see Sonny leaping over to me with a cheesy grin on his face. “Mommy! You were gone forever!”

A few hours at most.

But time moves differently when you’re young.

“I know, buddy, I had to work. What do you have here?” I squat and take a look at the plastic plane—similar to the one we flew in on our way to Saint Lucia.

“Jessy got me a present. It’s a Boring.”

“Boeing,” I correct, a laugh slipping out of me. “And did you tell Jess thank you?”

“Yep,” Sonny says.

I hand the plane back to him and he runs across the room while mimicking a real one, spreading his arms wide to create his own wingspan. The sound effects almost send me into another bout of laughter.

“First time on a plane.” Jess chuckles as she walks over to me. “I had to get him something. The little stinker wouldn’t shut up about it.”

“You really didn’t have to do that,” I say. Jess makes the same disappointing wages that I do at the coffee shop. Neither one of us is made of money.

“I couldn’t resist. Your kid makes me soft.”

He tends to have that effect on people.

My heart squishes as I watch Sonny pivot, reenacting a real plane as he spins back around in a blissful world of his own, the toy plane held tight in one of his small hands.

My phone pings. I hate the way my pulse has started to fluctuate every time I get a message, in anticipation that it’ll be Mr.—

“Anonymous?” Jess guesses with a teasing smile on her face. “Your bottom lip twitched.”

“That doesn’t mean shit.”

“It sure as hell means something. Give me that—” She rips the device from my hand when I’m least expecting, tapping the screen to life.

“‘I start work in an hour and want to think about you, princess, before I go. Help give a man strength before his twelve-hour shift.’” Jess laughs, reading the message aloud.

“Holy shit. Twelve hours. That’s nothing on Bean There hours. What does he do?”

“Dunno,” I reply with my arms folded defensively over my chest. “Don’t wanna know.”

Jess shoves the phone back into my hand and mimics my posture. “Honey. It’s been eight years since you—”

“Realized I was pregnant with Caleb fucking Rourke’s baby, after he’d already left me? Yes. Excuse me for being a tad distrusting.”

“Have faith that not every man in this world is selfish. Meet him. You know his age?”

“Forty.”

“Experienced.” Jess giggles. “Nice.” She reads whatever facial expression I’m giving her for another moment, and then takes off. “I’m on an afternoon shift. I should get going.” She breaks Sonny out of his trance to plant a loving kiss to his temple. “Goodbye, Sonny Bunny!”

“Goodbye, Jessy Bessy.”

Jess strides into the kitchen and locates her sunnies. “That reminds me. I got stung by a bee today.”

“One of my father’s, no doubt.” I snort, cracking open the door for her. “His army of insects are probably still flying around somewhere. That’s if they haven’t dropped dead yet.”

“Their reign will continue with their kids.”

Unless they can break free.

“Shame my father can’t drop dead as fast as the bees he raised,” I half joke, seeing Jess out.

My father coincidentally decided to leave as soon as I became a legal adult, and ran off to Boston with some chick who I can’t even remember the name of. I haven’t heard from him since, which I’m glad about.

He left me alone in a house that was still due mortgage payments, and made me deal with the bees he forgot to release. Perhaps, if not for his wild beekeeping obsession, he’d have spent more time with me.

But of course, insects take precedence.

“Homework time, baby,” I announce, gently prying the toy plane from Sonny’s grasp. “Pilots must first complete their math practice before flying.”

“Pilots can take off and avoid it.”

Not the most positive approach to life…

“Pilots are good at math and pass all of their classes,” I remind him.

Sonny drops the plane and hops up onto the table with a pouted bottom lip.

Same.

Nobody wants to work. Flying away from problems every time they become an inconvenience would be ideal if money and reality were factors that did not exist.