Chapter 1
Chapter One
Arizona
“ J ust hear me out for a minute.” Tara pressed her palms together, pleading with me to consider her request.
“I really don’t need to,” I replied, even though I felt terrible. “I heard you just fine the first time and my answer remains no.”
I jumped down from the back of the ambulance to retrieve one of the boxes filled with fresh supplies from the table beside the storage closet.
“You do realize that any female photographer within a hundred miles would be salivating at the sheer mention of this opportunity?”
“Perfect! Then you shouldn’t have a problem finding another one,” I said, climbing back into the rig.
“The one we had under contract for years just pulled the plug. I’m stuck, Arizona, and I can’t rely on just anyone to handle this. It has to be someone I trust, but more importantly, someone the guys trust.”
Tara, the wife of one of my fellow paramedics, Greer, was the head of the Rockwood Hospital Foundation, located in the nearest major city to Sutton River. She was responsible for raising funds to support the hospital’s programs, services, and facilities. Hence, the reason for her unexpected visit to the station.
“In case you forgot, it’s not my area of work.” I sliced through the tape that secured the box with a pair of scissors and started replenishing one of the drawers with fresh gauze packets.
What Tara was asking of me was a straight-up nightmare.
“Who are you trying to fool, girl? You’re amazing behind the lens, and we both know it.”
“As a hobby, maybe, but I shoot landscapes, not people.”
I’d barely caught myself because it wasn’t my coworkers per se that I didn’t want to photograph; no, it was a particular person I wouldn’t survive a snowball’s chance in hell sharing an intimate space with.
My palms were sweaty just at the thought of it.
Him standing shirtless in all his sinful glory. His tanned skin pulled taut over muscles he’d spent an abhorrent amount of time maintaining, while the baby oil used to reflect the light and contours of each dip, crease, and flex spiked my heart rate.
“What’s the difference?”
“I’d say it’s glaringly obvious,” I replied, tugging on the ends of my sleeves out of nervousness after I flattened the box for recycling.
“Scenery is scenery.” She gave me a nonchalant shrug. “Listen, I’ll run interference between takes, take care of wardrobe and props, etcetera; all you have to do is snap the photos.”
“Then you do it if it’s that simple.”
“Ari, please, I’m begging you. One of the board members is breathing down my neck like a wild bear who’s out for blood, and I can’t be known as the one who doesn’t bring this calendar to fruition for the first time in its existence. You know how popular the first responder’s calendar is every year. Please.”
And therein lay the problem.
No person with a conscience would dare refuse the job, as the funds raised went directly to the children’s wing of the hospital. My reluctance stemmed entirely from the need to steer clear of a particular firefighter, someone I had gone to great lengths to avoid whenever I could, which was also next to impossible since we shared the same workspace.
It was the sole root tugging on my moral compass.
A man whose presence was larger than life.
A man highly coveted by the female population, near and far, no thanks to his Instagram thirst traps, and yet was a proclaimed lifelong bachelor.
“Fine, I’ll do it, but you owe me.”
“Oh my God.” She sighed heavily, clutching her chest with her hands. “Thank you, Ari. Thank you. And whatever favor you need, I’m your girl.”
“Seriously, how pathetic are we right now? Sitting in our jammies, an empty bottle of wine each, leftover Halloween candy wrappers scattered around, and it’s only nine twenty on a Friday night,” I said, popping some of my favorite candy—Reese’s Pieces—into my mouth.
“Hey, this is a judgment-free zone.”
“If there were a fly on the wall, they’d think differently. We are two lonely souls, Lils, you sitting in your condo and me in a house with an empty spare bedroom.”
I hated that Lily felt she couldn’t come back to Sutton River. Since elementary school, we’d been besties with a plan that went to hell in a handbasket when her parents up and moved without a trace.
“Cheers to FaceTime.” She raised her glass.
“Nice. I see you’re still pretending you don’t want to be roommates.”
“Ari.” She sighed, the sound heavy, and I hated seeing the weight she was carrying. I just wished she’d let me in, instead of keeping whatever was troubling her locked up so tightly. “How you’ve managed to stay under the radar is beyond me.”
“Don’t jinx it.”
“We had plans.” My voice cracked at the words, the old hurt surfacing despite my best efforts to push it down.
“I know . . . I’m sorry.”
“No, I understand. I do, promise, I just . . . I worry about you. Aside from work, you’ve isolated yourself.”
“It has to be this way.” Her words were quiet, almost too quiet. She wasn’t just saying them, she was believing them.
“But does it?” The question hung in the air between us, raw and vulnerable. “You have friends here, people who care. And you know Jaxon would move mountains for you.”
“That ship has long sailed, and you know why.”
“Lily—”
“Oh, and you’re one to talk, huh? Those Fisher twins are two peas in a pod, Ari, but I don’t see you getting all cozy with Jameson, do I now?”
“That’s because he’s a manwhore.”
“Says you.”
“My eyes and ears work perfectly, thank you very much. Besides, how would you know? Unless my best friend has broken girl code and made a trip home that I’m unaware of?”
“You know I haven’t.”
A heavy silence fell over us.
“Speaking of men, have you thought about giving the dating app another try?” she asked.
I toyed with one of the ornaments on the Christmas tree beside my couch.
“Kind of, although I’m still scared, not looking to be love-bombed again anytime soon.”
“I’d like to believe that was a weird one-off.”
“Yeah, me too because that guy had psycho written all over him.” I scoffed.
“I’m just thankful he couldn’t reign in his true colors long enough to fool you; I mean, who buys someone a diamond necklace on the second date?”
“It probably had some sort of tracking device in it.”
“Right,” she said, tilting her head with an arched brow, her tone laced with sarcasm. “Could you imagine?”
“No, but also yes. He wasn’t exactly subtle about his intentions. From the start, his compliments were next level—almost over the top—and his affection? It was way too intense for someone I barely knew. He was relentless, and honestly, I have zero clue why I even agreed to see him again after the first time. Clearly, my judgment was off, and he took advantage of my weak moment.”
“Just from what you told me, he gave me the heebie-jeebies.” She shivered.
“You and me both. So, changing topics, Tara, Greer’s wife, stopped by the station today and asked me to photograph the first responders for the calendar this year.
“You’re serious?” Her eyes widened in disbelief, her mouth slightly agape.
“Yep.” I enunciated the p with a pop before taking a heavy sip of my wine.
“Don’t do that; this is exciting news.” Lily smiled enthusiastically back at me.
“It would be if you knew who wasn’t involved.”
“Oh,” she pursed her lips, “what month is he?”
“Guess.”
“Gosh, I don’t know, June?”
“No, his name was the last drawn out of the hat, which means?—”
“He’s your favorite month.”
“Exactly! Why must he always be a dark shadow looming over my shoulder.”
“Just grab a celebrity magazine from the grocery store and cover Jameson’s head with another guy. That way, you can still drool over his eight-pack.”
“How do you know it’s not six?” I asked with a quirked brow.
“Jameson doesn’t do anything halfway, plus you’ve mentioned it a time or two.”
“Yeah, well, the guy is obnoxiously toned; it’s hard not to notice when he’s constantly flaunting it around the station.”
“Maybe he’s just trying to make up for something else that’s not quite up to par,” she said with a smirk.
I began violently coughing as I choked on my wine. “I seriously doubt that, but hey, wouldn’t that be poetic justice? Flawlessly perfect until he’s stripped down to his birthday suit, and you learn he’s got a micro-penis.”
But I knew that wasn’t the case—and that was one story that would never see the light of day.