Chapter 4
Firefighting isn’t just a job; it’s a brotherhood, a second home where you spend more hours with your crew than anyone else. In a small town like Passion Falls, that sense of family runs even deeper.
The station is always buzzing with a mix of sweat, adrenaline, and camaraderie. Right now, that balance leans heavily on the latter as I sit at the kitchen table, listening to our two newest recruits bicker over what they will be cooking for tonight’s dinner.
“You can’t just reheat chili and call it a meal,” Cole snaps, frustration laced in every word.
“Why the hell not?” Danny fires back. “It’s efficient use of resources.”
His logic earns a grunt from me and a chuckle from Mick at my side.
Arguments like this come with the territory. When you live with each other day in and day out it’s bound to happen. But it never lasts long because when that bell rings, and we suit up, every man here would lay it all on the line for the other.
We fight together. We survive together.
I’m just about to step in and settle the argument when the chief pokes his head into the kitchen.
“Masters, you’ve got a visitor.”
My brows draw tight, confusion threading through me as I push to my feet. “Who is it?”
He shrugs, lips curving into a grin. “Don’t know. But she’s one hell of a looker.”
That piques my interest even further, and apparently, Danny’s too.
“I wanna see,” he pipes up, already moving for the door.
I catch his shirt, yanking him back. “Stay put, Rookie. And pull out that steak,” I order. “We’re having it for dinner.”
Cole grins in triumph as I get the final word.
Perks of being lieutenant.
I leave the kitchen, anticipation building in each step down the hall, but nothing prepares me for who’s waiting when I round the corner.
Shock locks me in place, chest tightening at the woman who’s haunted my every thought from the moment we were kids.
“Harlow.” Her name scrapes past my throat, low and raw.
She gives a small, almost nervous wave. “Hey…”
Even on a Tuesday morning, she’s a sight to behold.
Her jeans fit like a second skin, flaunting long, toned legs, while a black blazer hangs open over a snug tank top, cinching her waist and skimming curves I’ve spent years trying not to notice.
The braid over her shoulder is meant to look professional, but all I can think about is unraveling it to wrap around my fist.
“Sorry to drop in on you at work like this.” Her voice yanks me out of the thought. “But I really need to talk to you. Got a minute?”
I can’t think of a single thing she’d have to say to me, but hell if I’m not curious.
I nod. “We can talk in my office.”
Before I can lead the way, a rustling noise breaks out behind me, killing the moment. “Stop moving, dumbass, I can’t see.”
“I’m trying, but your fat head’s in the way.”
Turning, I catch Danny, Cole, and Mick peeking around the corner like a bunch of horny teenagers, trying to sneak a look.
Un-fucking-believable.
Harlow leans around me, amusement dancing in her eyes as she gives them a better view. “Hello.”
The idiots nearly topple over each other, scrambling upright like they hadn’t just been caught spying like a bunch of girls.
Cole recovers first, stepping forward with an eager grin. “I’m Cole.”
“Harlow.” She smiles, returning his greeting.
Mick follows, offering his hand. “Mick.”
She shakes it, her head tilting. “I recognize you. You were a grade below me in school, right?”
Mick nods. “I was.”
Danny, the boldest of the bunch—or maybe the stupidest—steps in next. “And I’m Danny, the newest recruit,” he declares, propping an arm against the wall beside her head with far too much swagger. “Don’t let the rookie status fool you. I’m fully experienced.”
Harlow laughs, clearly entertained by his pathetic attempt at flirting.
Something dark twists in my gut, coiling tighter with every second he’s in her space. “You want to have that chat or not?” I ask her, voice sharp.
Her smile doesn’t falter. If anything, it deepens. “Ready when you are, Lieutenant.”
I don’t miss the way she mocks that rank, and neither does Mick.
He ducks his head, hiding a smirk.
Ignoring him, and the other two yahoos, I lead Harlow to my office.
Once inside, I shut the door and notice how much smaller the room feels.
“Wow, great office,” she says, scanning the plain walls with fake admiration. “You must be pretty important around here.”
I don’t play into her hand, my expression staying flat. “Cut the shit, Harlow, and tell me why you’re here.”
She drops the front, the mask slipping clean off. “Okay, look…this isn’t easy for me, so I’m just going to say it.” Despite that statement, she steals herself with a breath, straightening her shoulders. “I need a favor.”
My brow arches. “A favor.”
She nods once.
I lean against the desk, arms folding across my chest. “And what exactly would that be?”
Her gaze holds mine, steady but tense. “I need you to come to Vancouver with me for the weekend of my sister’s wedding and pretend to be my boyfriend again.”
For a second, all I can do is stare. Certain I misheard.
“You’re shitting me, right?”
She shakes her head, completely serious.
A laugh of utter disbelief escapes. “Now, why the hell would I do that?”
Her chin lifts. “Because you played along the first time, and now my family thinks we’re together. Like it or not, you’re already in this.”
I smirk, amused at how easily she spins that logic. “Nice try, sweetheart.”
Her shoulders sag with defeat. “Come on, Linc, please?” she begs, shifting tactics. “It’s just one weekend.”
“I don’t care if it’s one hour. The answer is the same. Abso-fucking-lutely not.”
“I can’t walk into that wedding alone.”
“Then don’t,” I counter easily. “I don’t know why you would in the first place. A little uncomfortable, don’t ya think?”
She shakes her head, gaze falling to the floor. “You wouldn’t understand.”
I study her carefully, a thought creeping in. “Don’t tell me you still have feelings for this asshole.”
Her head jerks up, eyes blowing wide. “God, no.”
The sudden relief that rushes through my chest is completely irrational.
“This isn’t about Finch,” she insists. “It’s about Hattie. She wants me there. And even though she’s been a shitty sister, she’s the only one I have.”
The crack in her voice almost breaks me, chipping away at walls I’ve spent years building to keep her out.
Stay strong, Masters. You owe her nothing. Least of all this.
Logically, I know this. Yet, as she stands just feet away, barely holding it together, I feel myself slipping…
Goddamn it.
A rough hand scrapes through my hair, my breath heavy in the quiet. “Let’s say I agree. What do I get out of it?”
She straightens, clearly not expecting that. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, if I’m putting myself through an entire weekend of this circus, I want something in return, especially after bailing you out last time.”
Her arms fold tight across her chest. “Fine. What do you want?”
I shrug. “Not sure yet. I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”
Her eyes narrow into slits. “Forget it, Masters. I’m not signing up for some open-ended favor. For all I know, you’ll expect me to sleep with you.”
The words strike like a match, sending me forward. In two strides, I’ve got her caged against the door.
Her lips part on a sharp inhale, wide eyes locking on mine.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” I murmur, voice dropping with the nerve she struck. “I don’t need leverage to get laid. If I ever end up between those pretty thighs of yours, Harlow, it’ll be because you fucking begged me for it. Got it?”
Fury sparks in her gaze, along with something hotter—the same heat pounding in my veins.
“Now,” I continue, my tone dropping even lower, “if you want me to do this, you’re going to owe me. I don’t know what yet. Might be simple. Might not. But when I ask, you’ll pay up. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”
Her chest rises and falls, the battle clear in every breath and for a second, I think she might bolt.
“Fine,” she snaps, giving in. “But don’t think for one damn second you can walk all over me, Masters. If you even try to be unreasonable, you’ll end up with a fight on your hands. Got that?”
A smirk spreads across my mouth, slow and satisfying. “Wouldn’t expect anything less from you, Goldilocks.”
Her glare sharpens. “Fine. Now get the hell out of my space,” she growls, shoving at my chest.
Chuckling, I take pity on her and step back.
She drags a hand down her blazer, brisk and controlled, like she can smooth the whole moment away.
“So, what weekend is this train wreck scheduled for?” I ask, already knowing I’ll need to clear my schedule with work.
She clears her throat, slightly hesitating. “Three weeks.”
“Three weeks?” The words rip out of me before I can stop them.
She nods. “Seems they are hell-bent on sprinting down that aisle.”
I’ll fucking say.
“Think you can get the time off that fast?” she asks, a flicker of worry edging her voice.
“Yeah. Shouldn’t be a problem.”
Protocol’s usually a month’s notice, but since I haven’t taken a single day off in five years, the chief will make an exception.
“Good.” Her tone shifts, sliding into business mode. “We’ll keep it simple—arrive Friday, leave Sunday. I’ll handle the flights and the hotel. You just show up ready to play your part. My parents aren’t easy to fool.”
I grunt. “Don’t worry, I can handle them.”
She rolls her eyes at the response.
“And you can keep your money,” I add, pushing back off the desk. “I’ll pay my own way.”
“No.” She shakes her head adamantly. “I’m the one dragging you into this, I’ll cover it.”
My jaw tightens, the idea of letting her bankroll me rubbing like sandpaper. “I don’t need your damn money, Harlow.”
Her eyes narrow once more as she gears up for another fight, until the shrill wail of the alarm pierces the room, cutting her off.
She jumps at the sound, a startled gasp escaping as she covers her ears.
I flash her a grin. “We’ll have to finish this later, Goldilocks. Duty calls.”
I’m already on the move, my strides eating up the floor as chaos erupts.
“Linc!”
Her voice halts me, just long enough to catch her gaze.
“Be careful.”
Two simple words, but the weight behind them, the way they’re laced with something real, hits harder than I care to admit.
After a quick nod, I finish sprinting for my gear.
The call is my focus, but it’s her that lingers, those whiskey-brown eyes branding me deep beneath the skin.