Chapter 25
Wyatt
“Thirty-nine, forty, forty-one,” Liam barks with each push of my arms as I haul my body up and down through push-ups.
Normally, forty push-ups would be a piece of cake for me, but with the blistering California sun beating down, and my turnout gear on with my air pack strapped to my back, I’ve got a lot of added weight to account for.
I’m sweating bullets inside my protective hood, beads of it dripping down my neck, and I force myself to take controlled breaths in and out.
This workout will not kill me. It’s not even going to come close. I’ve got this, I can do it. Mind over matter.
“Let’s go, Trip. You got this,” Luke claps his hands from a few feet away.
My arms are burning with each upward movement, and threaten to collapse with each downward one, but I keep going. When Brody calls out ten seconds left, there’s one last burst of power that rushes through me, giving me an additional four push-ups before he says time’s up.
“Nice dude,” Liam says as I sink to the ground with a groan. “Sixty-nine in two.”
“It’s the young blood in him.” Nate holds out a bottle of water, and I greedily accept it.
“Young, dumb, and full of cum,” Liam smirks.
He’s not wrong.
Hauling myself up to my knees, I rip my helmet off and push the hood back, sucking in a deep breath of stilted air that tears through my already burning lungs. It’s hotter than an asshole with a blow torch out, and I hungrily suck back the water like I’ve never had a drop in my life.
I’m learning that Nate has some kind of sadistic need to torture us. He walked in this morning and announced we’d be working out. Outside. In our bunker gear. Not quite in the worst heat of the day, but when you’re in your gear, it feels like it.
Still beats a twelve-hundred-degree fire, though.
We circuit trained for a while, going through the paces, and then he announced we were all going to go for one final push. One minute of burpees, full tripod crawl across the drive and lawn of the station—there and back—one minute of get-ups, and two minutes of push-ups.
Harder than it sounds.
“Incoming,” Luke mutters, and we all turn in the direction he’s facing.
The doors on a sleek looking sedan open—passenger and driver—and two women get out. The driver with short white hair, older, and unfamiliar. But the passenger I know. Silver hair, longer than the other woman’s, left arm in a cast.
Bryn’s Gran.
If she’s looking for the firefighters that helped her that night, she’ll be disappointed to learn they aren’t the ones on shift. Other than Brody.
Then Nate surprises me, greeting the woman I don’t know. “Grandma, to what do I owe this pleasure?”
He’s not geared up any longer, but he’s sweaty as hell when he envelops the short white-haired woman in a hug. She doesn’t seem to mind, squeezing her grandson just as tightly. The love between them is evident and unsurprising. I’ve seen him with Savanna.
“Being Ruby’s chauffeur,” she explains when he lets her go, waving at the other woman.
Bryn’s Gran—Ruby—shrugs, feigning innocence. “A wonderful uber driver, she is. I’ll be sure to tip well.”
“In red wine,” Nate’s grandma quips.
“Yes, and lunch, as you’ve reminded me.” Ruby’s gaze sweeps over the rest of us. “Hello, boys.”
A chorus of greetings ring out, with Liam declaring he’d hug the woman if not for being a dripping, sweaty mess. But her attention lands on me, scanning me up and down. My fingers were working on getting my jacket undone, but they pause as she appraises me.
“Wyatt Dalton.”
I tip my head to her, putting a palm over my heart like I would if I’d just taken my hat off out of respect for a lady. “Ma’am.”
A smile springs to her face, but it quickly smooths out, her eyes darting down and then back up. “Well, continue what you were doing. Take it off. Let’s see you.”
“Ma’am?”
“Did I stutter? The jacket, Wyatt,” she says, waving her good hand along the length of my body.
A few snickers go through the guys, but it’s Nate’s grandma who responds, “Don’t worry, she won’t bite. We just like to come by sometimes and see the goods. Gives these old ladies a thrill.”
“Grandma!” Nate’s surprise is genuine, redness creeping up his neck.
“What? Oh, don’t look at me like that,” the white-haired woman scolds. “I’m old, Nathan, not blind. It’s not like this is anything scandalous.”
“I could help with that, though, Mrs. Miller.” Liam, who is already out of his bunker gear and in shorts and a t-shirt, starts to lift the hem of his shirt.
“Christ,” Nate mutters.
“You’re old news, Liam,” Ruby says without turning to look at the man whose mouth is hanging agape. “We’d like to see more of the new one.”
“Should I do a little dance for you too?” I ask, shaking my hips from side to side as I work on the fasteners on my jacket. “I’m not sure if I should feel awkward or flattered while being objectified like this.”
“Both.”
She watches carefully as I finish unzipping the jacket, sliding it off my shoulders.
The relief is immediate, even though the air is hot.
I can feel the breeze now that the gear is off.
I’m drenched in sweat, and I pull the protective hood off my head, a sigh of relief escaping me before I can stop it.
The air is cool against my neck. It was only an extra minute or so of being in my jacket, but it was longer than I wanted to be in it.
“Bryn mentioned you rebuilt that truck you drive.”
Dropping my jacket on the pavement, I pick up the water bottle I discarded and take another swig before nodding.
“Old Betty.” The smile is immediate and involuntary. “My pride and joy.”
“So, you’re a handy guy to have around?” she inquires, raising an arched eyebrow. It makes the still healing wound push skywards, but she doesn’t flinch. It’s been a few weeks, and looks like it’s almost to the point of a scar.
Shrugging, I push the suspenders from my pants off my shoulders, dropping the water bottle onto my jacket. “I’d like to think so. Grew up on a ranch, had to know how to do lots of things.”
Glancing over her shoulder, I realize Nate now has his back to us, and it’s formed a semi-circle that includes everyone except Ruby and me. Giving us the illusion of some privacy, but I know all those assholes are listening, even while they talk to Nate’s grandma.
“How are you with fences?”
I sputter a laugh. “A specialty of mine. Ranch life.”
She hums, nodding thoughtfully. “Electrical? Can you do that?”
My eyes narrow slightly as I nod, pushing my pants down my legs.
“Patching walls?”
Again, I nod, stepping out of my boots and pants.
“What about building things?”
“Ma’am—”
“Ruby, please. You make me sound older than I am with that ma’am rubbish.”
My lips form a thin line for a moment, but I tip my head in acknowledgement. “Ruby. All due respect, what’s this about?”
Delight shines in her eyes, like she’s been waiting for me to ask. “I’d like to offer you a job.”
Jerking my head back, I bark out a laugh. “A what? Ma’a—Ruby, I have a job.” My arm sweeps out to the fire station.
“Right. But you don’t work every day, and I don’t need someone every day. Just some days. A strong man who knows their way around fixing things and is available,” she says, and I don’t miss the slight pitch in the last word or the double meaning behind it.
“Doing what?” I ask, running a hand through my hair. It’s sweat soaked, and I wipe my hand off on my t-shirt, realizing it’s futile to try and unplaster it from my head.
She clasps her hands in front of her, but quickly releases them, as though it bothers her wrist. “I need a handy man. I have a long list of things that need to be done around the property, in and out of the house, and no one to do them.”
Bryn immediately pops into my head, and for one second I entertain the idea.
The thought of being back in her orbit for more than an evening at 10-42.
Of being able to see her more. Sure, I followed through and got a tattoo for her, and have zero regrets about it, but post-tattoo me also recognizes that the new ink probably isn’t going to change her mind.
Yet.
“And you want me to be that guy? Why don’t you hire a company?”
Ruby shrugs. “I don’t trust companies.”
“Why would you trust me?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest.
Her eyes drift to my biceps, and she doesn’t hide the nod of approval. “You’re a firefighter. They’re very trustworthy.”
Bryn definitely takes after her grandmother rather than her parents, if that comment is anything to go on.
She pauses, looks over her shoulder at the rest of the group, and then steps towards me, taking my arm. For an older lady, she’s strong as she pulls me further from the group. This has bad idea written all over it, but I’ll admit I’m curious.
“Plus, Bryn trusts you.” We walk a few more steps, crossing into the grass at the front of the station. “That’s enough for me.”
“Does she know you’re here offering me a job?” I inquire, already having the inclination that Bryn doesn’t.
“You let me worry about her.”
“Ruby—”
“I am but a meddling grandmother who knows her granddaughter very well,” Ruby says, patting my arm with her good hand. "She’s not herself.”
I come to a stop, and Ruby follows. Looking down at the woman, my eyebrows pull together. “Is she okay?”
“I fear not,” Ruby responds, her lips pulling downwards against the wrinkles in her face, and I know the frown she wears isn’t natural for her. “But I think she’s convinced herself of certain things and doesn’t know how to stop thinking them.”
My mind immediately drifts to our conversation on the beach and how she was conditioned to believe she was hopeless. Absently, I rub my chest, the itch from the healing tattoo roaring to life.
Ruby turns her body fully towards me, releasing my arm. “I saw the difference in her when the two of you were going out. She had color in her cheeks, and she glowed when she talked about you.”
My chest constricts at that. Bryn telling her Gran about me. I wonder all the things she might have told the woman standing before me, and all the things she might have said if we’d continued.
“I see the same light in you. I’ll admit, I was nosy and watched you two in the driveway.” Ruby doesn’t look sheepish about the confession in the slightest. Probably because she knows I caught her multiple times. “You care about her.”
Considering the honesty this woman is giving me, I give her the same courtesy with a nod. Bryn is a part of every waking thought, and every fitful, dream-filled night. She’s the first thought when I wake up, and the last when I go to bed.
I’ve always found it hard not to think about my future. It’s what got me this far.
“The drawer in my kitchen is broken,” Ruby states, lifting her chin, all business. “From when I fell and hit my head. Come by tomorrow afternoon, fix the drawer. We can go over everything else I need done. If you don’t like what you see, I’ll pay you for the drawer and that’ll be it.”
Folding my arms across my chest, I ask, “Will Bryn be there?”
A slight nostril flare. Half a second of a squint. Another incline of her head. A lie is about to come out of this woman’s mouth.
“No,” she shakes her head. “She’s working at the massage clinic.”
I don’t doubt that Bryn is working, but this woman has something up her sleeve. I’d be careless not to be careful. And intrigued.
“Alright, Ruby,” I nod, holding a hand out. “Deal. I’ll fix the drawer, but anything further, we’ll see.”
She takes my hand in her good one, her handshake firm. “Deal. Oh, and Wyatt? Wear the cowboy hat, would you? I’d like to see it up close for once.”
This woman has trouble with a capital T written all over her. But she might be the plan I’ve been looking for.