Chapter 4

Nolan

I'd just gottenout of a meeting with my regional boss when I entered my office and saw I had several missed calls, all from the same number.

The Jasper Springs VFD.

I sighed as I plopped down in my ergonomic chair and just as I set to pick up the phone, it rang again, JSVFD appearing on my phone screen again.

I picked up the phone. "Nolan Harding, Breisinger Insurance,"

"Where the fuck have you been?" Dawson snapped on the other end, immediately throwing me a curveball.

I mean, I had a feeling it was him who called, but there was no way to be sure.

I pulled up my email, noting he'd already sent me two emails today, and I wasn't even halfway through my shift.

What's up his ass today?

"Doing my job, Mr. Richards. Something you clearly don't understand."

"Don't get cute with me, Mr. Harding."

Why his bite and the way he said my name made me blush, I didn't know, but I was thankful that I was alone, in my office, away from prying eyes.

Which also meant no one else could hear me.

"If I wanted to get cute with you, Dawson, I wouldn't be vague about it. Lord knows you need everything spelled out for you."

"Fuck you, Nolan."

"I see we're past pleasantries now. Is there a reason for your call, or did you just want to hear my cute voice?" I said.

What the fuck?

Where did that come from?

There was a pause, the only sound Dawson's breathing on the other end, which strangely caused my cock to twitch. I adjusted myself in my pants, letting out a frustrated sigh.

What was his deal?

Before I could tell him I didn't have time to deal with his bullshit because I had a thousand emails to answer and claims to investigate, he spoke.

"I submitted a claim for Jonathan Bradish two days ago and no one's even been out to the guy's house yet to check anything."

What?

Since when did Dawson keep tabs on my job?

Naturally, the shift in conversation made me defensive. Contrary to Dawson's belief that I did nothing but sit around on my ass and jack off all day, I had a laundry list of claims to investigate as well as a boatload of administrative tasks and meetings seeing as I was practically one promotion away from becoming the manager of this damn branch.

"I'm aware of my own case load, Dawson. I don't need you to tell me how to do my job."

"Then do your fucking job, Nolan. Or I'll do it for you," he said gruffly, his tone all commanding and... hot.

Fuck, why does he sound so hot when he's pissed off?

My cock agreed as it twitched in my pants again. I crossed my legs only to apply pressure, because I did not have time in my schedule to take care of an inappropriate erection.

And the object of my fantasies chastising me like a bad child, is definitely not helping matters.

I pulled up my case file for Jonathan Bradish, noting that the property wasn't all that far from the office. Glancing at the clock, I knew I'd have to go to lunch soon, but maybe, just maybe I'd be able to squeeze in a trip.

I knew I should have been honest, professional, and that I should have just told Dawson I'd take care of it.

But a part of me liked hearing him all worked up, liked pushing his buttons... and my cock certainly liked it.

Liked him.

So instead of doing what I should have done, I did the exact opposite.

I took Dawson's bait like a famished fish.

"You know, Dawson, you catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar," I drawled as I swiveled in my chair, licking my lips.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Dawson griped. His reaction caused a grin to spread across my face.

He really made it so easy sometimes. He was like a whistling teapot. Let him steam long enough and he'd boil over.

"It means that if you want something out of me, you're going to have to ask me. Nicely."

"Oh, I'll give you nice, Harding. I'll give you a nice, swift kick in that tight ass of yours, set you in the right direction."

His words caused my cock to throb, and I could already feel a wet spot forming in my underwear.

Fuuuuuck, why is this so hot?

Wait, did he just call my ass...

"I'm waiting, Dawson," I said, my breath coming out much heavier than it should have been as I tried to stifle how fucking turned on I was at the moment.

So unprofessional.

God, what is wrong with me?

I closed my eyes as I tried to regain my sanity.

"Nolan," he breathed my name like it was a sin. Another pause, Dawson's heavy breathing in my ear hovering like some sort of spell.

"Would you please do me a favor?" Dawson spoke with command, but his entire tone had shifted from demanding and angry to something else.

Smooth, sexy.

Like pure silk.

My entire body loosened, and I wanted to melt into the sound of his voice. I could imagine him telling me to get on my knees with a voice like that, which was also not helping my current situation.

I'd never heard him speak like that to anyone.

"Yes, Dawson?" I said, licking my lips, stilling my voice.

"Would you please be a good little pencil pusher and do your fucking job so I can do mine? Thanks, sweetheart. You're a doll," he said as he hung up, leaving me breathless, with a raging hard on at eleven thirty in the morning.

The dial tone echoed in my ears as I opened my eyes, staring at the ceiling.

What the fuck just happened?

Just as I hung up the phone, my cell phone went off.

I'm never getting any work done today.

I pulled out my cell, knowing without bothering to look who was calling. Very few people actually had my cell phone number, on account because I didn't have many friends.

But I'd also set Allie's ringtone to All The Single Ladies, which she insisted was the best song ever made.

Well, that's one way to kill a boner.

I punched the green button and answered the call. "Hey, Allie," I said, letting out a deep breath.

"What's wrong? You sound stressed," she said immediately.

I leaned back in my chair, letting the springy bounce soothe my frustration.

"I just got off the phone with Dawson. He called about a case and I just... I guess let him get to me."

"He's such an asshole. Seriously."

"I know, but—"

That's why I like him. I like his shitty attitude, his foul mouth, and he isn't bad on the eyes either...

"I wanted to let you know that I got some time coming up I have to take, so I was thinking maybe I could come visit? Spend the weekend? Get your ass out of the house for a bit?"

I sighed. I wanted to spend time with Allie, I really did, but the last month I'd gotten swamped with work, and I knew I needed to make a dent in my workload.

"Work has been a little nuts as of late, Allie. I'm sorry, I—"

"It's fine, Nolan. I know you're working your ass off right now for that promotion. Just... remember your life doesn't have to be all work, you know."

Her words settled on me, making me feel a mixture of shame, guilt, and loneliness.

It was easy for people like Allie to say that, when they had lives outside of their jobs.

My life was my job. It was all I had, because I was alone.

I glanced at the clock, noting it was now nearing quarter to twelve. If I wanted to hit Jonathan Bradish's house, I'd need to get a move on it.

"I like my job..." I said with a whine.

"Mhmmm. I think you just like being around all those sweaty, hot firefighters all day."

Maybe just one hot firefighter.

"I do not—"

"Especially... who is it? Mr. March?" She giggled. "I mean, hell, I'd become a workaholic too for those calendar boys." She whistled on the other end, throwing me into another blush.

"It's not like that, and you know it. I gotta go though. I have to actually go check out a claim... that's what Dawson called about."

"I'd love to meet the asshole who gets you all flustered someday. Maybe on the next trip you can bring me down to the firehouse and show me what I'm missing," she said sweetly.

"Deal," I promised, and I let her go, getting up from my chair and grabbing my keys.