Chapter 6
Chapter Six
“How was babysitting yesterday, Lockwood?” Logan asked, walking into the fire station’s gear storage room.
As firefighters, they were exposed to and often worked with agents that had the potential to be carcinogenic. When they returned to the station after responding to a call, their gear was put into a negative pressure decontamination room to be cleaned. Once that was done, it was moved from decon to the gear storage room, which is where they stowed it during their off-duty time. The room loosely resembled a walk-in closet with racks, hooks, a metal bench, and a shit-ton of extra ventilation. They kept everything by the trucks for easy access and to save time in the event of a call when they were on duty.
“Have fun hanging with your peers?”
Sitting on the bench in the gear room, Jake ignored the jibe. Logan comparing him to a grade schooler was par for the course, so he didn’t bother looking up from inspecting the face mask portion of his SCBA. He liked doing his inspections in the room instead of the truck bay because it was quieter. Well, it was until Logan showed up.
First thing every morning, Station 23’s crew performed equipment and truck checks. They literally inspected everything, from making sure their air packs were working properly, to checking lights and gas levels on the trucks, all the way down to ensuring the batteries in their headlamps weren’t dead.
After inspections were done, they’d have a meeting with Captain Anders. Since he hadn’t scheduled any training this morning, they’d moved on to the rest of their daily routine of cleaning the station, equipment, and rigs before tackling anything else.
Running into Laurel at the school yesterday afternoon had been a welcome surprise. Jake hadn’t gleaned much info about her at Hannah’s other than she’d just turned thirty, wasn’t into the bar scene—she hadn’t actually said that, but it was obvious—and really hated being compared to pie.
He winced. Way to go on the pie comment, Lockwood.
He’d intended to get her number, but in his defense, she had been busy yacking all over his runners. He grinned remembering how she’d sheepishly offered to have them dry-cleaned.
Who the hell dry-cleans tennis shoes?
But when he’d walked into her classroom, it kind of made sense. She’d traded her baseball hat and jeans for a very conservative, neutral colored shirt and skirt. The fact she could make loose-fitting clothing the dull color of leftover oatmeal sexy was impressive in itself, but finding out she was as responsive to his kiss when she was sober as when she’d been drunk…
“Interesting,” Jake said.
“Why? You get a new coloring book?”
Jake snorted. “I already have them all. You know that.”
Logan could bust his balls all he wanted, but Jake enjoyed spending time with the kids. They were fascinated by his gear and eager to learn. Especially the little ones. They were cute. He wasn’t cut out for being a dad, but getting to hang with them every now and again was fun.
Scratch that. He’d love to be a dad someday, but he refused to have kids if he wasn’t in a committed relationship with their mother. After his past, there was no way he’d bring a kid into the world without having both parents present in the home because he knew how much it sucked if they weren’t. So, as cool as it’d be to have a kid of his own, he knew it wasn’t in the cards for him.
Kids weren’t the problem. It was the serious relationship part that was never gonna happen. He’d learned that the hard way.
His sister, Jessa, had accused him of purposely avoiding relationships by dating women who’d never hold his interest longer than a night. She thought he was scared to let anyone get close because it was a risk.
That was rich. He wasn’t afraid of risk. He was a fireman, for fuck’s sake. Besides, it wasn’t a risk if you already knew the outcome.
“What was so interesting?” Logan asked.
Jake mentally shook his head to get his sister’s words out of it. “Remember the girl at Hannah’s?”
“Which girl? You’ve gotta give me more than that.”
“The one I danced with.”
“That doesn’t narrow it down, dude.”
“The one who asked me to dance.”
“Again…”
“The shy one,” Jake clarified. “In the baseball hat.”
“Oh.” Logan snickered. “You mean the one with the yellow hair who hurled on your shoes? How could I forget her?”
It’d be impossible.
Only, it had nothing to do with having to toss his shoes, and everything to do with the innocence he’d tasted in her kiss. Jake wasn’t used to that. It intrigued him… made him wonder what she didn’t know that he could teach her.
I’d kill to teach her.
“What about her?” Logan asked.
The question dragged Jake out of Laurel’s bed and dropped him back into the conversation. “She was the teacher.”
“At the school?”
“No, at the gas station, you moron.”
“No shit?”
“No shit.”
“How’d she look? Was she wearing a tight skirt and librarian glasses?”
“She’s not a librarian. She’s a teacher.”
Logan made a rolling speed-it-up-circle with his hand.
“And her skirt wasn’t tight,” Jake clarified.
“Bummer.”
“Her shirt was,” he added with a sly grin. Okay, it wasn’t. At least, not until backing into her desk and sliding down onto her ass had made the material pull tight across her breasts. He’d bet money she hadn't realized it, but he had.
“Nice.”
His friend’s grin made Jake narrow his eyes. The intensity of how much he didn’t want Logan’s imagination anywhere near Laurel’s breasts surprised him.
“I’m fucking with you,” Jake lied. “She’s a grade school teacher. You really think she goes around wearing tight shirts?”
“Dare to dream, dude. She’d look hot in a tight shirt. Or better yet, no shirt.”
Jake gnashed his teeth. The fact he was seriously considering sucker punching his best friend shocked the hell out of him.
What the actual fuck?
Logan snickered. “Dude, you should see your face. You definitely have a major hard-on for her.”
Before Jake could respond, four small hooves landed on his back.
“Dammit, Spot! Get off!” Jake sat upright, causing the baby pygmy goat to slide off onto the floor. “Get out! You know you’re not supposed to be in here.”
So much for keeping the germs out, when the little shithead kept sneaking in.
“Logan, why’d you leave the door open?”
“I didn’t. I closed it,” Logan insisted. “I swear he can open doors. Especially when he wants to be with his mama.”
Jake sneered, then addressed the goat. “What part of ‘not allowed in here’ are you not understanding? Go bug Randy.”
Spot bleated in response.
“Out!” Jake shouted, pointing at the door.
The goat blinked up at him defiantly.
Stubborn little shit.
Spot had come to live at the fire station two months ago after they’d responded to a barn fire in the unincorporated section of town. The property owner was a sweetcorn farmer who’d been burning weeds along his property fence when the wind had picked up. The blaze had gotten out of hand and rapidly spread to the barn, which was an older wooden structure. After it ignited, it had burned so quickly that the owners were only able to get their horses out before it had been completely engulfed in flames.
Station 23 had been dispatched, along with the next closest rig from Station 18. Despite their best efforts, they were only able to save a few sheep and one lone baby goat. Unfortunately, the goat’s mother had perished in the fire, so he’d become an orphan.
Jake had been the one to carry the little guy out of the flames. Once the fire had been completely extinguished, the goat had escaped the makeshift enclosure he’d been put into and had run straight to Jake.
He’d swooped up the goat and held him while he and Captain Anders had spoken with the farmer. Apparently, the baby goat, or ‘kid,’ as the farmer had told them they were called. Jake already knew that, but the guy liked to talk and was in shock. Anyway, the kid was only a couple weeks old and still nursing. The farmer said he was going to have to find a new home for him because he wouldn’t have time to bottle feed him as often as necessary while dealing with a decimated barn and cleaning up after the fire.
Surprisingly, Captain Anders had caved when the crew had suggested they adopt him. They argued they could take turns bottle feeding, since the station was manned round the clock. Spot was lucky the Captain was such a softy.
So, instead of having a stereotypical dalmatian as its mascot, Station 23 had a pygmy goat. Logan had jokingly referred to him as “Spot” when he’d arrived at the station, despite the fact there wasn’t a single spot anywhere on his tri-color, brown, black, and white body, and the name had stuck.
“Spot,” Jake warned. “I said out.”
For once, the goat listened and trotted out of the room with a final flick of his white-tipped tail.
“You still coming Saturday?” Jake asked, a grin present on his lips. He couldn’t help it. The little goat’s big attitude got him every time.
Logan shook his head. “Can’t. I’m covering Luca today, remember?”
That’s right. Today was Tuesday. Logan’s scheduled shift was to work Sunday and Monday with today off. Even though he’d picked up today for Luca, he still had to be back to work on his normally scheduled shift, which meant he had to work Saturday. Jake worked yesterday and today, so he wouldn’t have to be back on duty until Sunday.
Station 23 ran a forty-eight/ninety-six schedule. “Two-by-fours,” as some liked to call it, consisted of working two days on and four days off. Depending on the number of calls they had during that time, the second day could be a little rough, but it was worth it to have four days off in a row. They used to work the old twenty-four hours on, twenty-four hours off for nine days, followed by six days off in a row, but had switched to two-by-fours a couple years ago. It afforded a more consistently “normal” schedule, and made stuff like planning trips, family get-togethers—hell, their lives—easier. Trying to fit in anything else when you had to work every other day was a bitch.
“Sucks to be you,” Jake said.
“Sucks to be you, ” Logan snickered. “I’m not the one on KP duty tonight.”
Most of the guys, save Tori—sure, she was a woman, but still one of the guys—hated cooking. Jake wasn’t one of them. He found it relaxing. And, yes, he watched cooking shows and had his own pasta maker—and was man enough to own it. Besides, being able to home-cook a romantic meal sure didn’t hurt his dating life. Not that he’d ever needed help in that department.
“I wouldn’t go celebrating,” Jake warned. “You don’t know what I’m making yet.”
Logan chuckled and headed for the door. “Have fun peeling potatoes,” he said on his way out.
Jake smirked.
Have fun eating them made with a cup of salt.