4. Levi
Levi
T he crisp spring night air hits my face like a splash of cold water as we spill out of The Flatiron onto the sidewalk, but it does nothing to cool the burning in my chest.
Zoe Meyer.
Dr. Zoe Meyer.
Hell, five years of trying to get over that woman was blown to hell in the span of twenty minutes.
“Damn, Reyes.” Mack claps me on the shoulder hard enough to make me stumble. “Never seen you crash and burn quite that spectacularly.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, as a car horn blares, but there’s no heat behind my words. Because he’s right. I handled seeing Zoe about as smoothly as a probie on their first call. Just like the last time I saw her, the morning after Alex and Kristina’s wedding, which is probably why she’s still so salty.
Never one to miss a chance to give me a hard time, Jake chimes in from behind. “She sure handed back your ego in pieces. ‘It’s Dr. Zoe Meyer to you,’” he mimics in a high-pitched voice that sounds nothing like her. Though, to be fair, nothing could capture the way her voice wrapped around those words, managing to be both ice-cold and scorching hot at the same time.
“Fuck off,” I mutter, even though they’re not wrong. I got my ass handed to me back there. But the thing is, they don’t understand why it matters. To them, she’s just another woman I’ve fucked who shot me down. To me… Christ, I don’t even know how to explain what Zoe is to me.
“Seriously, though,” Jake continues, nudging Mack with an elbow as we skirt a couple heading to the bar. “Usually, the ladies are eager to jump on the Levi train. That one looked like she’d rather get a root canal than go on another date with him.”
“I don’t know how you convinced her before,” Mack says, opening the passenger cab door of our ladder truck. “But that woman is way out of your league, brother.”
I run a hand through my hair because he’s right. Zoe’s always been out of my league. She’s smart as hell, driven, beautiful enough to stop traffic—and now, a doctor on top of it all. Meanwhile, I’m the guy who barely finished high school before joining the fire academy. A man who’s spent the last five years treating relationships like disposable paper coffee cups, chasing something elusive. A spark that’s always been missing since…her.
I climb up into my crew seat in the truck, trying to get my head straight. But all I can think about is the way Zoe looked tonight. That little black dress hugged curves that have starred in way too many of my dreams. Her honey-blonde hair had fallen in waves around her face, those hazel eyes flashing every time she looked at me.
“I’ve gotta see her again.” Before her brother’s dinner, where we’d have an audience.
“What?” three voices chorus in disbelief.
“You heard me.” I straighten, squaring my shoulders against their incredulous stares.
“Didn’t she say you’re her brother’s best friend?” Jake asks.
“Yeah,” Mack adds, “And a player to boot.”
The two of them are giggling like schoolgirls as we buckle up and Brock fires up the engine.
I ignore them and steal a glance back toward the bar. “Look, I screwed up with her. Bad. I need a chance to explain why I acted like such a dick after we….”
Brock flicks a glance over his shoulder at me. “Fucked?”
Bastard.
“It was more than that,” I growl.
“Ooh, look who’s getting all lovey dovey now.” Mack’s falsetto is something no one should ever have to hear coming from a six-foot three, burly redhead who can bench three hundred pounds.
“Fuck you.”
Jake and Mack exchange an amused glance at my expense while Brock seems to take pity on me. Probably because, ever since he started officially dating his girlfriend a couple of months ago, he’s gone soft. Not that I’ve been jealous of his relationship status—until now.
“I may know when and where you can see her again—”
“When? Where?” Hell, I’ll do anything to get the details out of him.
He shoots another glance at me over his shoulder. “Promise me it’s only because you want to apologize—”
“I promise.”
There’s a long silence as we head up Sixth Avenue through stop-and-go Friday night traffic. My blood pressure is skyrocketing, but I grip the seat rather than press him. Finally, Brock sighs and glances at Mack in the front passenger seat, who lifts a shoulder as if to say, throw him a bone or we’ll never hear the end of it.
Brock clears his throat. “Chief gave me his two tickets to the department’s charity gala and auction next Saturday night.”
“And?”
“Since I’m not keen on spending an evening in a tux watching half-naked guys strut their stuff, even if it’s for a good cause, I asked Libby if she wanted to bring a friend instead.”
Hope flares in my chest, bright and dangerous. “She’s bringing Zoe?”
“They were texting about it just the other night.”
I nearly come out of my skin. “That would be perfect. Neutral ground with lots of people around. Black tie. Open bar…”
“Only one problem, Romeo,” Mack says, running a hand over his face.
Panic cinches my chest. “What?”
“You don’t have a ticket.”
Shit, he’s right.
“Yeah,” Jake adds. “And you’re not on the auction block. I am.”
I turn to him, not even trying to hide my desperation. “Switch with me.”
“What?” he blinks. “No way, man. I’ve been working on my routine for weeks.”
“I’ll cover your next three overnight shifts,” I offer without hesitation.
“Five,” he counters.
“Done.”
Mack lets out a low whistle. “Man, you’ve got it bad, Reyes.”
Maybe, I do. But walking away from Zoe tonight was almost as hard as the day after the wedding. And, just like that morning, it made one thing crystal clear. Except now, it’s that I’m not letting her go without a fight. Even if it means making a complete fool of myself half-naked on stage at The Plaza Hotel just for a chance to talk to her again.