3. Maya
Chapter three
Maya
I ’m still processing what just happened as I check the harness system carabiner. I thought Mack was giving me a hard time because I’m the newbie. And a woman. But it seems he treats everyone on the crew with the same mix of protective concern and playful teasing. I’d been so quick to assume the worst, to see discrimination where there was only camaraderie, and I’m the one who ended up apologizing. Time to stop jumping to conclusions.
With renewed focus on the next drill, I’m thankful to see the aerial ladder we’re using is rated for higher weight limits. With Mack’s massive frame behind me for a double climb, we’ll need the extra capacity. I adjust my grip on the rungs, grateful for my thick gloves as we begin our ascent. Humid air can make the metal slick, but I’ve trained and rescued in worse conditions.
As we climb, we fall into sync surprisingly easily. Too easily. Mack anticipates my movements, and I automatically adjust for our size difference. I modify my grip points to account for his much longer reach and adapt standard procedures to work with our mismatched frames without even thinking about it. Somehow, it feels as if we’ve done this together a hundred times, though this is the first. I hate how natural it feels, how aware I am of his steady presence right below me.
Until the wind kicks up when we’re nearly at the top, channeling between the buildings like a wind tunnel.
“Gust!” Mack calls out, already moving to brace the ladder. I react instantly, but physics are physics. His massive frame ends up bracketing my smaller one while we stabilize the equipment. The solid wall of his chest against my back makes my skin tingle traitorously, and the pressure of his body pinning me against the ladder awakens something primal I didn’t even know I was missing.
I’m not some damsel who needs protecting, even if his towering presence makes me feel simultaneously safer and more on edge than I’ve been in years. As the ladder stabilizes, I glance over my shoulder to check our position, and our eyes lock.
Time stretches like warm honey, and I watch as if in slow motion as those striking green eyes darken. My lips part of their own accord, and I can’t seem to draw a deep breath. Electricity crackles between us until I jerk my gaze away, my breathing embarrassingly uneven. Behind me, I hear Mack suck in a deep breath.
“You alright?” he asks after a beat, his voice rough.
My spine stiffens automatically at the concern in his tone. Just what I need, another firefighter thinking I can’t handle myself. Especially this one.
“Fine,” I bite out, hoping my voice doesn’t betray how unsettled I am by his proximity.
He backs down a step, adjusting before we resume our climb.
“Just making sure whatever’s making you wince didn’t get aggravated,” he says.
He noticed that?
“It’s nothing,” I shoot over my shoulder, focusing on the next rung instead of how his voice seems to resonate through my entire body. Only a few more steps to go. Just keep climbing.
“You know you could tell me,” he says, amusement coloring his tone. “It wouldn’t kill you, I swear.”
“You know you could keep quiet,” I retort. “I swear it wouldn’t kill you.”
His unexpected laugh, deep and genuine, catches me off guard. I risk a glance down under my arm and catch myself almost smiling at his obvious amusement. Damn.
“Fine,” I relent, wondering why I’m even telling him. “Double workout two days ago still has me tight. Happy?”
“Ecstatic.” His grin is deliberately obnoxious, and I narrow my eyes at him even as something warm and unfamiliar unfurls in my chest. He pauses, then adds, “If it makes you feel better, your skills seem to be unaffected by the tenderness.”
For a moment, I’m tempted to snap at him again, to maintain the professional wall I’ve worked so hard to build. But there’s something disarmingly genuine in his praise that makes my defenses waver.
“Thanks,” I say grudgingly as we reach the top. “I think.”
I shouldn’t enjoy his attention, shouldn’t like how he seems to see past my carefully constructed armor. But his playful persistence makes it hard to keep my guard up.
We fall back into the drill, and I try to focus on the job instead of how naturally we move together, but his presence distracts me in a way I’ve never experienced. Every accidental brush of contact sends unwanted shivers across my skin. Every shared glance that holds a heartbeat too long adds to the dangerous energy building between us. I’m hyperaware of his presence, the effortless strength in his movements, the way he anticipates my needs before I signal them, and the perfect synchronization we’ve somehow fallen into.
By the time we’ve successfully extracted the ‘victim’ and Chief calls it, my shirt is soaked through and my muscles tremble with a tension that has nothing to do with exertion. I head for the shower, feeling Mack’s gaze on my back with every step. Even exhausted and disheveled, I force myself to move with purpose and maintain the professional demeanor I’ve worked so hard to perfect.
I tell myself the shakiness in my legs is just from the workout. The heat under my skin just from the humidity. And the lingering awareness of the burly redhead is just…temporary insanity.
And if I keep repeating that over and over, maybe I’ll eventually believe it. But as I disappear inside my new station, I know I’m fighting a losing battle. This infuriating giant of a man is already getting past my defenses, and that’s a complication I absolutely cannot afford. Not when I’ve worked so hard to get here. Not when I still have so much to prove.