Chapter 6 Larkin
SIX
LARKIN
I arrived fifteen minutes early because I always got to places early.
The restaurant was in Grafton, two towns over from Danvers and far enough from Trenton that the chances of running into anyone from either station were slim. I'd chosen it after scrolling through reviews for ages, looking for somewhere quiet.
This wasn't a date, it was a conversation between two people figuring out a complicated situation. But the place couldn’t be a dive because I had standards, even when I was lying to myself about why we were meeting.
I'd gotten a table near the back, away from the windows, and was studying the menu as if it contained the meaning of life when Percy walked in. He was wearing jeans and a green shirt that made his eyes stand out. He spotted me and smiled, the same one from the barbecue I’d been replaying in my head.
I exhaled because having him close was similar to receiving good news when you’d been prepared for bad. No matter the world outside, here in my corner of the universe, we were okay.
He studied my shirt and cocked his head. “Did you iron a shirt for a secret date?” He slid into the chair across from me and picked up the menu. “You really are a lieutenant.”
“It's not ironed. It's just not wrinkled.” I’d hung it up in the bathroom while I showered.
“Hmmm.” He scanned the menu. “Is there a difference?”
“Yes, one involves an iron.”
He peered at me over the top of the menu.
There was a glint of humor in his gaze, and the tension in my shoulders eased.
Maybe meeting like this had been a good idea.
I’d questioned whether we were making a mistake.
But being near him, listening to his teasing, scenting his unique smell, was worth it.
Percy ordered a burger with extra pickles and a beer. I asked for pasta and soda water because I was on shift at six in the morning.
“So.” He folded his arms on the table and leaned forward. "We're here. Two firefighters from rival stations having a dinner that no one can know about. Where do we start?”
“Wherever you want.”
“Okay.” He tilted his head. “Why firefighting?”
That question caught me off guard, but I appreciated it. He wasn't asking about the bond, the rules we’d laid out for us, or the competition. Instead, he wanted to find out about me.
“I like the structure of the routine, training, and knowing that every skill I practice might save someone's life. And there’s the crew. The people you work with for twenty-four hours at a stretch become important to you.”
“That's the lieutenant answer.” He propped his chin on his hand. “What's the real one?”
Wow. He wasn’t letting me off easy. And he was perceptive, picking up that there was another underlying reason.
"When I was twelve, a wildfire near where I lived took out a hundred acres before they stopped it.
" I twisted my water glass around and studied the condensation.
“I watched the crews work who were mostly humans but with a few shifters, and they were so calm in the middle of something terrifying.
I wanted to be the person who shows up when everything's falling apart and knows what to do.”
Percy didn’t say anything at first, but when he looked up, his expression was no longer playful. His features looked almost fragile. “That's a good answer.”
“Your turn.”
“Mine's less noble.” He grabbed a bread roll from the basket and tore it in half. “I was twenty-two and working at a hardware store, bored out of my mind. The fire department was hiring, and the application said they'd pay for my training. I’d get free education, plus I’d get paid to slide down a pole?” He grinned. “That sold me.”
“There are no poles at Station 9.”
“I know. That was a huge disappointment, and I almost quit on the first day.”
We both laughed, and he bit into the bread.
“But then we did our first live fire drill, and I went through the door into a room that was wall-to-wall flames. The heat, the noise, and knowing that the only thing between you and a really bad day was your training and the crew behind you.” He shrugged. “I was hooked.”
The food arrived. Percy told me he read murder mysteries and sci-fi.
He had a stack of paperbacks on his nightstand and refused to read on a tablet because he liked the smell of the pages.
He didn’t like creepy crawlies and once stood on a sofa for four hours until a spider made its way out of the room.
“I don’t trust them because nothing needs that many legs. It's suspicious.”
I almost choked on my water. “You run into burning buildings for a living.”
“Buildings don't have legs.” He waved a fry at me. “Now you tell me something sort of embarrassing.”
I thought hard while twirling pasta. “I build furniture.”
He put down his beer. “That's not embarrassing, that's handy. What kind?”
“Tables, mostly, and bookshelves. I also built my bed frame.”
He glanced down at his food and a flush crept over his cheeks. But he took a sip of beer, and the moment passed. “It’s impressive. What else should I know about the mysterious Lieutenant Larkin?”
“I can cook, but only three things. Pasta, stir-fry, and omelets.”
“That's two more than most guys I've dated.”
He said it so casually and tossed it into the conversation. But it was a window into his history, and I wanted to ask how many and were they serious and did the guys have a big cock? Shit, I was jealous when there was no need to be. Percy was my mate.
But I stabbed the pasta instead because pushing too hard might crack the tenuous agreement we’d made. And then what? He’d walk out or we’d get naked, throw everything off the table and go at it?
Needing to change the topic, I said, “I’ve never once in my life been late for anything.”
“Shocking.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “Do you set alarms for your alarms?”
“Sometimes.”
We shared a glance and laughed. A huge belly laugh, and gods, that felt good.
Percy dragged a fry through ketchup and studied me. “You know what I think?”
“Nope, but I suspect you’re going to tell me.”
“You’re one of those people who holds everything together for everyone else and forgets to let anyone hold anything for you.”
I wondered if he’d been thinking about that since we first met.
“Also…” I worried the ketchup on the fry he was holding would fly across the table and land with a splat on my shirt. “You've never let anyone at your station see you rattled. Am I wrong?”
“No.”
“Thought so.” He tore a bread roll and offered me half. “So who do you talk to when things go sideways?”
The honest answer was no one. I processed things internally, worked them out in my head or with my dragon, and moved on. But sitting across from Percy, watching him demolish bread and fries, something stirred inside me.
“I’m talking to you.”
He paused. My admission had caught him off balance. And his composure slipped before he recovered and pointed the bread at me.
“Damn. That was smooth.”
“It wasn't a line.” I wanted to tell him everything about me, my hopes, worries, and dreams.
“I know.”
We were grinning at each other across the table. His foot brushed over mine, and I put down my fork and was reaching across the table when my pager went off.
The insistent beeping cut through the sounds in the restaurant, and I was on my feet before my brain caught up. Station 12 was paging all off-duty personnel, which meant something big, maybe a multi-alarm fire, but it was something the on-duty crew couldn't handle alone.
“I have to go.” I was already pulling cash from my wallet, dropping enough on the table to cover both meals.
“Go. People need you. I'll be here when you get back. Well, not here, here. But you know what I mean.” He waved his hand. "Go save people and places.”
I wanted to say something that captured the pain of leaving and the enjoyment of the past two hours, but the pager wasn't patient, and neither was a working fire. I squeezed his shoulder as I passed, and the contact sent heat flaring through my palm that lingered as I jogged to my truck.
As I pulled onto the highway, I replayed the evening. He’d offered me half his bread without asking. And he'd seen through my hard exterior in the space of a dinner and called it out with a kindness disguised as teasing.
How was it possible to know someone for such a short time and feel like they’d interpreted your whole life?
I merged onto the highway and pushed the truck faster. There was a fire to fight and a crew that needed me. But for the first time in longer than I could remember, there was also someone who'd be there when the smoke cleared.