Chapter 3
DAX
“ O livia is going to cross to the other side of the street if she sees us again,” Beck says, half joking.
Two days since her visit, we’re back at the fire house on a twenty-four-hour shift. It’s been a quiet day so far, which has us chilling on the sofa in our break room, some show playing on the TV while we sip our coffees and talk.
The rest of our crew, including the new candidate, Smitty, is out on the floor, washing the trucks and checking equipment, which gives us a smidgen of privacy to discuss our recent common interest—our voluptuously gorgeous new neighbor, Olivia. The taste of her still lingers on my lips, even now.
“She’s embarrassed and then some,” Leo says. He looks at me with humor flickering in his dark eyes. “I’m still amazed that you kissed her.”
“And I’m still amazed by how responsive she was,” I reply with a shrug .
“She panicked,” Beck chimes in. “It’s got to be a little scary for her.”
“Granted, most women would run off screaming if they were to learn about our relationship style,” I concede.
It hasn’t been easy, not since we accepted and embraced our nature.
Each of us tried monogamous relationships in the past, but we’re so close—bound by friendship, tragedy, blood spilled on the battlefield, and the flames we fight in our line of work—that the only way the three of us will ever experience a real relationship is if we find ourselves a woman who we can share. And our last attempt was a disaster.
“It’s been a while since I’ve felt this spark, though,” Leo admits.
“Since Jocelyn, right?” Beck asks.
I shake my head in dismay. “Don’t even mention her name. That was an abject failure, from beginning to end.”
“It doesn’t nullify how we felt about her,” Beck insists.
“Fair enough,” I find myself conceding again. He does have a point. It almost felt real. We wanted it to be real. We wanted it so badly that we overlooked one too many red flags about Jocelyn. “Olivia strikes me as being different.”
“Oh, she definitely is,” Leo chuckles softly. “What do the French call it again? Je ne sais quoi?”
“She’s that and more,” I say. “There’s no doubt about the physical attraction. It’s there, and it’s growing fast. We’ve barely exchanged a few words and we’re already—” I stop myself and take a deep breath.
If I think about that kiss again, my uniform pants will feel uncomfortably tight again. We’re still on the job; some decorum is needed.
Beck chugs the rest of his coffee and heads over to the open-plan kitchen to refill his mug. “What do we know about her?”
“Not much,” Leo replies.
“Nothing, really. Just that she’s Chloe Jackson’s best friend out of Devon, New York. That’s it.”
“We should get to know her a little better, figure out what she’s like,” Beck suggests. “She was brave enough to bring those cookies over after the dildo incident. That tells me she has a solid spine.”
“She’s also adorably shy,” Leo adds with a soft smile.
Beck’s expression changes as he looks somewhere behind us.
“I think she’s hiding something, too,” I say, then turn my head to follow his gaze. “I’ll be damned…”
Olivia, of all people, steps into the break room, carrying one of Melinda’s pastry boxes—I’d recognize that turquoise and yellow design and the smell of butter croissants from a mile away.
To my surprise, I see the same turquoise and yellow combo on Olivia’s polo shirt.
I also see her full hips and thick thighs, beautifully hugged by high-waisted jeans. I get up to greet her.
“Olivia,” I greet. “What are you doing here?”
“Honestly, I didn’t want to come in after the way I keep embarrassing myself,” she laughs, her cheeks glimmering pink. “But it’s my first task at Melinda’s Diner. I understand she has this stuff sent over every time you guys are on shift. ”
Leo stands and takes possession of the box, then carries it over to the counter while Beck grabs another mug.
“Coffee?” he asks Olivia.
She shakes her head slowly. “No, thanks. I need to get back to work.”
“First day at Melinda’s?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know you were looking for a job,” I say.
Olivia smiles. “I’m actually pretty private when I’m not flinging my dildo across my neighbors’ yard.”
“I thought you wanted to get over that,” Leo laughs.
“But you guys keep bringing it up, so I might as well lean into it. Take away its power and all that,” she replies, tucking a lock of honey-blonde hair behind her ears.
I’m fascinated by the playful twinkle in her big, blue eyes.
“I interviewed yesterday, and Mr. Batter really liked me, so I got the job.”
“Melinda’s husband, Jim,” Leo confirms.
She nods once. “Yes. I like the place. The food’s amazing, and Melinda is straightforward and honest.”
“I’m glad you found your spot over there. You’ll love them both. Jim’s a great chef, and Melinda might come across as the Iron Lady sometimes, but she has to run that business like she would a tight ship.”
“Oh, there’s scones, too,” Beck says as he removes the pastry box lid and smiles broadly upon admiring the contents.
“Jim’s specialty,” I note .
“So what’s with this little tradition of Melinda’s? I understand she only sends it to your shift, not the others,” Olivia asks, hands fidgeting in front of her.
She’s nervous. I can feel my pulse quickening, too, just from being in her presence.
Hell, if I get any closer, fireworks will inevitably explode.
There’s no denying this dynamic between us, and I want to see where it leads.
I want to see how quickly we surrender to the sweet madness that’s simmering in every breath we take.
“They had a pretty bad house fire a year ago. Thankfully, we were able to get them out in time. This is how they show their appreciation, even though we continue to insist we were just doing our jobs.”
“Wow, I think I’d be indebted to you for life, too,” Olivia replies. Her phone rings, and I catch a glimpse of Jim’s name on the screen. “Shoot, I overstayed. I need to head back to the diner. Sorry, guys.”
Instantly, I check the clock and glance at the dispatcher’s desk. It’s been quiet so far, so I decide to take advantage of this mellow hour to get to know Olivia better. “We’ll come with,” I tell her. “The diner coffee is better than ours, anyway.”
“Hey, Marty!” Beck calls out to the dispatcher. “We’ll be right next door, buddy. Call us if anything comes through the emergency lines.”
“Sure thing,” Marty casually replies from behind his desk, halfway through one of Jim’s buttered scones and a raspberry croissant.
“And save us some,” Leo adds, pointing at the box.
There’s no reply, but Marty knows the deal .
I keep one eye on Olivia as she brings us a round of freshly brewed Colombian espressos.
“Thank you,” I say as she hands me one.
Her hand is shaking a little as she leaves a little porcelain pot filled with milk next to my cup. Instinctively, I reach out and cover it with my own, our eyes locking. In that moment, I see it: the desire, the curiosity.
The longing.