2. Mack
Chapter two
Mack
T he muggy morning already has my T-shirt clinging to my back like a wet paper towel, and we haven’t even started on the ladder drills. A taxi horn blasts from Columbus Avenue, followed by the familiar banging and clanging of the high rise going up two blocks over. Just another Wednesday in the city that never sleeps.
Like me after last night. Thank God for Brock’s sister, Charlotte, and her perfectly timed coffee deliveries. She breezed in earlier with a tray of coffees from the café down the street, where she works as a barista between acting auditions. Watching Jake try to avoid eye contact with her while simultaneously tracking her every move was arguably better than caffeine for waking me up, though. At least more entertaining.
But even Charlotte’s strongest brew isn’t enough to completely clear the fog of my near sleepless night, and I stifle a yawn as the crew gathers. Usually, I’m out like a light within seconds, but even after midnight, every time I closed my eyes, I saw her, our newest firefighter, with her ice-blue eyes raised to mine, her chin lifted defiantly. Now, I can’t help the way my gaze drifts to where she’s adjusting her turnout gear, her dark hair twisted into a tight bun.
Maya Thorne’s a bit of a thing. More than a foot shorter than my six-four frame. But she carries herself like she’s ten feet tall, and I didn’t know I was here for that, but it turns out I am.
Chief’s voice cuts through my distraction. “All right, team, it’s a ladder drill today. We’ve got a three-story reach with an immobilized victim inside. Mack and Brock, you’re ground support. Maya and Jake, you’re handling aerial maneuvers and extraction.”
I nod, grateful for the distance. Maybe, watching the new beauty from afar will help shake this inconvenient obsession.
Minutes later, I realize how wrong I was.
Maya scales the ladder with an efficient grace that seems impossible in full gear. When she reaches the top, she secures the ladder flawlessly, leveraging her petite size to maximum advantage. My pulse trips while she maneuvers confidently three stories up. I grip the halyard rope tightly with both hands and try to dismiss the unexpected apprehension knotting my gut as simple concern for a teammate. But the irrational urge to hover beneath her spot with a safety net confirms there’s something more to my distress. She’s a trained professional, same as the rest of us, but something about her makes my protective instincts kick into overdrive.
I’m so busy tracking her movements I almost miss Brock’s signal to adjust the base angle as Jake starts his climb. Snapping back to attention, I adjust the anchor point and, through sheer determination, stay focused on my job. Minutes later, the drill wraps up clean, with Maya serving as primary rescuer and Jake successfully transporting the training dummy. But it’s not until Maya’s descending the last few rungs that I breathe a sigh of relief, the tension that’s set up shop in my shoulders easing slightly.
Until she dismounts and backs away. She releases her helmet and tugs it off, revealing a grimace of pain, the first and only sign she struggled at all.
Upon closer inspection, I see wisps of her dark hair plastered to her temple. A bead of sweat trails down her slender throat and disappears under her collar. I force my eyes away, cursing the unseasonably high humidity, lack of sleep, and whatever cosmic joke landed this competent-as-hell bombshell at my station.
We guzzle water by the gallon, and I hope Chief will call it a wrap. Instead, his gaze sweeps over us. “One more for the day. Mack, you’re with Maya now. Jake, partner with Brock. This time, let’s try a double climb.”
A double climb? A sensation between dread and anticipation coils in my gut. A double climb means I’ll be right behind her as we ascend together. In close quarters . For half a second, I actually hesitate, which is ridiculous. If Chief paired me with Jake or Brock, or even a new guy, I’d already be moving into position. Maya just proved she can keep her cool and handle herself better than half the guys I’ve worked with. Yet, here I am, feeling thrown off my game and clearly the liability in this scenario. It’s not a position I wear well.
“Everything okay there, Mack?” Chief says, eyeing me closely. Damn.
“Yup, all good here,” I reply through gritted teeth. I grab my gear and step over to Maya, determined to ignore how her petite frame makes me want to build ten-foot-tall fortress walls to protect her. Time to be a professional. Even if it kills me.
“Ready?” I ask her with an arch of my brow.
She shoots me a look that could melt steel. “I’m always ready.”
I can see that. This woman’s as defensive as a pit bull guarding a bone. But rather than take offense, I struggle to bite back a grin at her fierce response while I fall into step beside her, increasing my stride to keep up with her pace on our way to the truck.
“What?” she asks pointedly, slinging me a sidelong glance as if daring me to make something of her retort.
“Just admiring your charming personality,” I drawl, trying to show the very tiny, very fierce firefighter she doesn’t have to take everything so seriously.
She scoffs then seems to school her expression. “I’m not here to be charming.”
“Clearly.” I reach past her to grab the stabilizing tether, deliberately keeping my movements casual despite how my skin prickles at her proximity. “Though you might find the job easier if you don’t assume everyone’s out to get you.”
“I don’t assume anything. I’ve learned from experience,” she snaps, yanking her carabiner into place with more force than necessary.
The sharp edge in her tone gives me pause. There’s a story there, but now’s not the time to dig into it. Instead, I gesture toward the ladder with an exaggerated flourish. “After you, then, Sunshine. Show me how the pros do it.”
“Sunshine?” she repeats incredulously, flashing those icy baby blues at me. “Really?”
Did I just push too far?
“Not feeling it?” I quip.
If smoke could blow from the top of her head, it would based on the crimson flush creeping up her cheeks. “Do you even know how offensive that is?”
Offensive? Me? I’ve been accused of a lot of things, but never of being offensive. My brows come together, but her tirade continues, as if she can’t hold back.
“Would you ever call Brock or Jake Sunshine ? Hmm?”
Before I can answer, Jake chimes in from behind. “Actually, he does, all the time. It’s either that or Cupcake.”
“Sometimes Princess,” Brock adds, bringing up the rear as he adjusts his gear.
“I wish it was Mr. March, to be honest,” Jake continues, trailing off when he notices Maya has stopped cold.
She spins to face us, looking right past me to study their earnest expressions, one at a time, as if searching for a sign they’re playing her. But they’re not. She seems to realize they’re telling the truth as she draws in a deep breath then blows it out before turning back to me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”
“No worries,” I assure her, with a wink. “No nicknames for you, Thorne. Got it.”
“Thank you,” she whispers, her gaze dropping to the asphalt.
“You’re welcome. And my apologies for offending you. That wasn’t my intention.”
Her eyes lift but remain in narrow slits as her head tilts to one side. She’s trying to puzzle out something in her mind, and it’s a hot minute as she looks up at me, but finally, she gives a curt nod. “Let’s get this done.”
I have a feeling it’s the closest she’ll get to accepting my apology, but I’ll take it.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say with a two-finger salute before I slide on my helmet. She turns away, but not before an eye roll. A move I definitely shouldn’t find as endearing as I do.