Light up the Night (Firehouse Three #2)(28)

“Okay,” Drake said, that look of consternation not leaving his handsome face. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but his phone started ringing then. He answered it with a quick swipe. “Yeah. No, I just started my off days yesterday.” He paused for a moment, shooting Everly a look she tried hard to ignore. “Yeah, if you need me, I can cover for a few hours. Sure. See you in a bit.”

The phone fell down by his side. “Sorry. I was going to volunteer to help out at your booth again today if you needed it, but I’ve got to take another shift at the station for a guy who’s had a family thing come up. Can I call you later?”

“Of course,” Everly said, crossing her arms over her middle to stifle the weird feeling of disappointment that had taken up residence in her belly. “Not a problem.”

“I’ll call you,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. For a moment, she closed her eyes and just enjoyed the touch, the smell of him, his warmth and nearness. And then he was gone, down the hallway to gather his things and leave.

Shit. What the hell was she supposed to do now? She didn’t know what to do with him, but she didn’t know what to do without him, either.



After what might possibly be the most awkward morning-after scene Drake could remember, he climbed into his truck to head home.

Damn.

He’d been so happy when he woke up that morning at Everly’s, remembering the night before. But as soon as she’d clapped eyes on him, she’d reverted back to the nervous girl who’d been ready to jump out of her skin at a moment’s notice. Where had the confident siren from the night before gone? Honestly, she was an enigma, and he’d wanted to spend the day with her to coax her back to that comfortable state again.

But, duty called, and since he was the low man on the totem pole, he was expected to jump higher than anyone else when the chief called. He didn’t mind it, not really, but the timing wasn’t exactly ideal.

After a quick shower, he headed in to the station.

“Morning, *,” Kyle grunted as Drake passed him in the locker room. His skin was damp from the shower, his tattoos glistening with moisture as he rubbed a towel over his head. Another was wrapped around his hips.

“Morning yourself. How’d your date go last night?”

“I got bid on by a very sweet grandma who informed me I would be dating her precious granddaughter next week. I am not looking forward to it.”

“Why not?” Drake dropped his bag into his locker and sat down on the bench.

“She sent me a friend request on Facebook.” Kyle reached into his locker and grabbed his phone. Unlocking it, he passed the thing over to Drake, who blinked at the picture on the screen.

Pretty girl. Long brown hair, slender legs, nice rack, attractive smile.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“You don’t see that? She’s wearing a f*cking Redskins jersey. How the hell can I relate to a woman who doesn’t root for the Cowboys?” Kyle snatched his phone away from Drake in disgust. “I should have known the rookie wouldn’t understand. You even watch football?”

“I like the Broncos, myself,” Drake said mildly, quirking a smile when Kyle snarled at him. He yanked his pants up over his hips as if he couldn’t deal with the whole idea of Drake’s traitorous ways.

“How’d your date go, if you’re such a badass?”

“Not bad. Picnic by the lake, fireworks, I can’t complain.”

Kyle quirked a brow at him, his shirt halfway over his tattooed arms. “You get some?”

Drake stood slowly, stretching in an exaggerated way. Scratching his belly, he gave a self-satisfied smile. “A gentleman never kisses and tells.”

“Oh, f*ck you, noob,” Kyle threw the damp towel in Drake’s face. “Keep the gory details to yourself then. I’ve got a few toilets that need scrubbing. Why don’t you get on that?”

Drake opened his mouth to reply, but the siren started up at that very moment. Wordlessly, he and Kyle grabbed their gear and did what they did best. Shit-talking aside, they had a job to do and nobody in that station would relax until it was done.

Fortunately for everyone, the call was a non-event. Those were the best ones. Small fender-benders, tiny grease fires that the homeowner was able to put out before the engine even arrived, they were the calls that nobody minded. This time, it was an employee versus microwave situation, and the microwave lost. With a small application of fire extinguisher, and an admonishment to keep aluminum foil out of the microwave, the engine was safely back at Firehouse Three.

“Thanks for pulling the extra shift,” Chief Donaldson said as he clapped Drake on the back. Drake was packing his gear at the end of the day, wondering what Everly was up to. She’d been on his mind almost nonstop.

“No problem, Chief. I was happy to help.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow for your regular.”

“Sure thing,” Drake nodded as he shouldered his bag. “See you.”

“Drake, just a second.” The chief was frowning down at his cell phone, holding a finger up at him. Drake stopped by the door.

“Sir?”

For a moment, the chief didn’t say anything, just glowered at his cell phone. Lips pursed into a thin line, he looked up at Drake. Then, after a long minute, he shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll deal with it myself. Just—keep your nose clean around here, huh?”