Chapter 7
Wyatt
Soon, I’ll need two hands to count the number of times this woman has taken me by surprise. The last thing I expected to find after an actual fire call was Bryn standing in the middle of the station.
No, that’s a lie. The last thing I expected was an invitation to a massage.
My phone goes off in my pocket, and I pull it out, grateful for the distraction. Beau’s name is front and center on my lock screen, part of the group text between my brothers and me.
Beau: How’s the first day?
Me: Fine.
Gage: you don’t say things like fine. that’s a Beau thing.
Boone: Read between the lines… it means it’s not going well.
Gage: did you trip over a hose?
Me: No, it’s just… weird.
Gage: so you tripped over your own feet?
Me: Shut up. You know that video I made?
Beau: About the girl?
Me: Yeah.
Beau: What about it?
Me: She’s at the station. She knows everyone here.
Gage: did you trip over her feet?
Boone: Are you drunk, bro?
Beau: Isn’t this a good thing?
Me: It’s great. It’s just… weird.
Really fucking weird. So weird, I’ve been pacing up and down the hall, not too far from where said girl currently has her hands all over one of my coworkers.
Not sexually, I know. For work. But am I crazy for feeling a little jealous of him, even if she’s possibly going to be running those hands over me next?
Fuck.
My dick twitches, and I stop in the center of the hall, look up at the ceiling, and take the most calming breath I can muster.
It’s not sexual. It’s not sexual. It’s not sexual.
I should say no. This has to be outside the boundaries of my three-date rule, right?
No. No, it’s not sexual. It’s her job. Liam filled me in that she’s a certified massage therapist. Went to school for it and everything.
She’s a professional. No happy endings here.
It’s just… a massage from the woman I haven’t stopped thinking about in days, with her warm hands all over me, isn’t something I’m sure I can handle.
My phone buzzes in my hand, and I glance at the group thread again. Gage has responded, and I shake my head as I read it.
Gage: you’re gonna bang her, right?
Boone: He’s going to take her on a date. You’re such a dog.
Gage: woof.
Gage is a top-tier asshole sometimes. A middle child who made everyone hate him. Beau tried to keep him in line, but he had so much responsibility as the eldest that he couldn’t keep up with babysitting duty. Gage drew the short end of the stick and suffered the wrath of our father most days.
Another text pops up, this time a private message.
Boone: You are going to take her out, right?
That’s our baby brother. Kind and thoughtful. A little na?ve. Two years younger than my twenty-six. A true baby of the family, the way he could never do wrong, not just in my parents’ eyes, but in everyone else’s too. Minus Gage.
Top-tier asshole.
Me: Yeah… if she says yes, anyway.
Boone: She’ll say yes. The way you talked about her the other night, she has to.
I’ve always been Boone’s secret keeper, but it’s only been since I moved to California that he became mine. Before that, it was Beau. When I left home, it wasn’t on good terms with my dad or my oldest brother, and I needed a sounding board. Plus, a taste of home.
Boone was the one I texted after Bryn disappeared from Kickin’ Boots, and the one who gave me the idea to post about it. He figured with the reach I already had, I might have a chance of finding her.
Me: If luck is on my side.
Boone: You’ve always had a horseshoe up your ass.
I smile. He’s not wrong. I’ve always had good luck, and given who showed up today, I’d say it’s holding out.
Glancing at the door to the room Bryn and Brody are in, I release a breath, sliding my phone back in my pocket.
She mentally checked out when we were standing in the bay, and her body language shift was reminiscent of the night on the dance floor.
I’m not sure if she even realized how her breath had altered, coming quick and shallow, her body going rigid.
It was the transformation that first caught my interest. Of course, I thought she was drop dead gorgeous in that dress, those boots, and the big hazel eyes, but it was what I saw in those eyes before she went into the restroom that pulled at my gut and said, “You need to get to know this girl. Now.”
I spin on my heel, resuming my pacing when the door opens. Brody steps out of the room, followed by Bryn.
“Seriously, come see me at the clinic. It won’t just help at work, it’ll help you when you’re surfing,” Bryn says to Brody.
He rolls his shoulder, and nods. “Fine.”
“Brody, I’m serious.”
“I will.”
Bryn heaves a sigh, like she doesn’t believe him. Given his tone and the look on his face, I don’t either.
Brody’s eyes meet mine as he starts down the hall. He grunts as he passes, “Find me after.”
“Will do,” I call over my shoulder with more enthusiasm than he gave Bryn.
It’s all bravado. The last thing I want to do is find him.
It feels like I’m going to get some kind of stern lecture, even though he has no reason to do so.
The comment triggers more than one memory of my dad saying the same thing, only for it to end in him criticizing me.
Usually for leaving my chores early to do something with the junior fire program.
“Good, you’re here. I don’t need to go looking for you,” Bryn says, bringing my attention to her.
Damn, she looks good enough to steal my breath. Maybe even better than the other night when she was all done up. Her leggings cling to a full ass that I would love to do filthy things to, and her fitted black t-shirt hugs her petite frame, showing off breasts that would fit perfectly in my palm.
Rules. I have rules.
She gestures for me to follow her into the meeting room from this morning. The meeting tables are moved to the perimeter to make room for her massage one.
“Nate told me not to make you wait,” I respond, watching as she swiftly removes a fitted sheet from the table, tosses it aside, and grabs a fresh one.
She snorts, shaking the sheet out so it lies against the table. “Oh, that’s rich, coming from him. He’s the one I always need to go find.”
I’m mesmerized by her graceful movements, like it’s second nature. Even with her size, she’s quick to get all the corners tucked over the ends of the table, adjusting the headpiece with a sheet. While I stand there like an imbecile.
“So, we have twenty minutes. It’s not a ton of time, but it gives me a chance to work through as many of you guys as possible before we get interrupted by a call,” she explains, running a delicate set of fingers over the purple sheet to get a few wrinkles out.
“I usually work on everyone’s back and neck, but I can do arms, legs, whatever is feeling tight. ”
Words like legs and tight are going to make my brain short circuit right now.
Hoping the deep swallow goes unnoticed, I force myself to look at the bed. Despite being raised to be a gentleman, despite my three-date rule, I’m only a man. A man about to be touched by a beautiful woman that intrigues him.
“Cool,” I nod, squashing the need to clear my throat for any high-pitched frogs that want to leap out.
When Bryn doesn’t respond, I chance a look up at her, finding her eyeing me with a raised brow. Did she ask a question that I missed?
“So, your back and neck are what you want me to work on?”
Right. Shit.
“Oh, uh, yeah, sounds great.” Rolling both shoulders back, my shoulder blades press in together, feeling the ache of soreness there. It’s probably a great place to start.
Bryn sweeps her hand over the sheet again, and this time I notice the light purple nail polish as her fingers drift over the material. “Okay, great. You’ll need to take your shirt off, I’ve got a—”
The words get lost as I untuck my shirt, cross my arms over my body, and lift it up and over my head, revealing my bare chest to her.
I can’t help my grin as her eyes move down the length of my body, widening and lingering with every inch she takes in.
It wasn’t that I was looking for a reaction, but now that I’ve gotten one, I’m enjoying every second.
When I flex my abs, subtlety, she gasps, her hands slapping over her eyes as she quickly turns around. “Oh my god, Wyatt.”
“You said take my shirt off. It’s no big deal.”
“You didn’t let me finish! I was going to step out of the room or turn around first,” she groans.
I look at the bed. “Aren’t you going to see me without it on anyway?”
“Yes, professionally, but that was… you… I just… it…” she stammers, then I hear her jaw audibly clamp shut.
Holding back a chuckle that desperately wants to come out, I clear my throat. “Where do you want me?”
And fuck if that doesn’t come out deeper than my natural voice. And fuck if that doesn’t put every image in my head that shouldn’t be there. Not right now. Not when she’s about to touch me.
“On the…” Her voice is two octaves too high, and she trails off for half a second too long before finishing, “table.”
Like her thoughts have gone exactly where mine have.
Without a word—because I’m afraid I’ll say something stupid—I climb onto the table, lying face down, while she shifts so her back is to me the entire time.
“Are you good?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Uh, one sec,” I mumble, my face in the cradle. Shuffling around on the table until I get my hand into the pocket of my pants, I rearrange my dick so it’s more comfortable against my thigh. Silently, I tell it to behave itself and remind it once again that this is not sexual in any way.
Even if both our thoughts seem to have hit the gutter.
“Okay, good.”
“Great. Good. Awesome.”