My arrangement with the well-built firefighter next door is simple. Scorching hot passion. No strings attached.
Despite what my best friend claims, I’m not waiting for THE ONE. Hell, I’m not even looking for THE ONE. At least not until I’ve finished my medical residency and am a board certified physician. Then I’ll start dating, I swear.
Until then, the booty call situation I’ve got going on suits me just fine, thanks to my devilishly hot first responder neighbor who knows how to handle my smoke detector. And his hose.
Or at least I thought everything was peachy keen until the attending physician in charge of my program drops by unannounced at her sons apartment to meet his girlfriend. And I answer the door. Wearing nothing but his shirt.
Now? Things are complicated.
