Chapter 2

On the far end of the main street businesses is a big neon sign that reads BAR with an arrow pointing down at the worn brick building. Mae and Jack have been owners of the corner spot since before I moved here. Only locals know this bar is named Shifty’s, and only locals drink here—a majority of which are other hotshots. Not all of them live in town, but it became a local meetup of sorts years ago.

It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust from the blazing sunset outside to the dim light of the nearly windowless establishment. More neon signs decorate the interior, mostly beer advertisements. The heavy door falls shut behind me, and I’m met by the familiar musty scent and the sound of laughter from my buddies who are probably on their second round by now.

Tonight, we’re celebrating the completion of our most recent fire. It was a bitch, and we’re all tired, but it’s an excuse to go out and throw back a few. King and Xander are toward the middle, so I pull up a barstool beside them. As I do, a frosted Coors bottle is placed in front of me on the old worn pine bartop; the wood has yellowed over the years. I lift two fingers and nod thanks to Lou, the old bartender who knows us well .

King and Xander laugh at something Bobby said, so I take a swig of beer and get caught up in the conversation taking place. “So, he’s got a bunch of our guys standing in a hot-as-fuck Florida parking lot while the rest of the Washington D.C. folks had this big fancy catered lunch—because fuck us, right? They’re all chowing down on seafood in the nice cool air conditioning, meanwhile the firefighters aren’t even able to grab a bite to eat, on the off chance any of the bigwigs want to come out and see the trucks and crew. Like some kind of bullshit show-and-tell. So then—” Bobby chuckles. “After hours in the sun, it’s all over, right? And who comes strolling up with his pockets stuffed with peel-and-eat shrimp? Wyatt fucking Bradley. This jackass looks at the boys and says something about ‘It’s too bad you couldn’t come inside, because the food was phenomenal!’ while he’s standing there still eating the pocket shrimp !”

“No way in hell the Chief of FS was eating pocket shrimp,” Xander says, shaking his head and bringing the rim of the beer bottle to his lips.

Bobby holds up his palm. “Hand to God.”

I roll my eyes and smile. That story’s made its way around a few times now. Though, last time it was told to me, the Chief of the Forest Service’s shirt was misbuttoned and his belt buckle was upside down too.

We go back and forth trading stories and rumors, as well as the upcoming assignments headed our way. Once fire season ends, I’ll have a few weeks to do whatever the hell I please before I start up with ski patrol at a local resort. It’s a great gig. Free time on the slopes and all the après-ski snow bunnies I can fit in my bed. Not a bad way to earn some extra cash. My thoughts wander to all my plans for the off-season.

“They just hired a new guy. EMT, I think,” Xander says, yanking me out of my thoughts.

I’m not sure what they’re talking about. “Who hired a new EMT?” I ask, attempting to participate in the conversation .

“SRFD.” The local structural fire department.

News spreads faster at Shifty’s than it does in the local paper.

“A new guy … or girl? Because that’s critical data,” Tex interrogates. It’s been years since his transfer from the Lonestar state, but the nickname stuck.

Curly stares off into the distance. “Remember that blonde chick, Abigail? Fuck. She was amazing.”

“Dude, those blue eyes?” Dixon puffs out a breath. “Abby was awesome.”

Her blowjobs certainly were. Half the guys at the bar nod, a few staring at their beer bottles longingly, reminiscing her oral prowess. Good lord.

Xander laughs. “Haven’t met ’em yet, but with the first name Prescott, I’m guessing it’s a dude.”

“Damn,” Tex says, then tips back the last of his beer and sets the empty bottle on the bartop with a hollow clink. Lou is already popping the cap off a new one for him.

“Even if the new guy was a chick,” King interjects, “Matt’s probably gonna be the medic in charge, he’s almost a bigger whore than Woods here.” He claps me on the back.

“Hey.” I smirk. “Don’t slut-shame me.”

I’m not going home with someone new every night, but I’m a bachelor who travels for work and has commitment issues. After I walked in on Molly bent over in front of Dave at Garrett Macomb’s funeral, I closed myself off to any future relationships. There’s a ton of infidelity in this job as it is. With the time hotshots and their significant others spend separated from each other, it happens in equal amounts on both sides. Personally, I’ve never cheated, the idea disgusts me on a visceral level. On almost every crew I’ve worked on, one-third are in relationships, one-third are divorced, and one-third are having the time of their lives— I’m in that camp . Life is short. Sex is fun. As long as everybody’s on the same page, who cares?

Occasionally, I’m hit with a bout of loneliness, especially when I hear about some of the other guys having a woman to go home to, but the thought of discovering another affair again is enough to keep me from getting involved with anyone seriously; I’ve got a lot of demons to work through, and I don’t need to burden anyone with that.

It’s easier to have sexual encounters with no strings attached. All the fun, none of the hurt. Besides, most women I hook up with are in it for the same reason. They want a temporary fling, and I’m happy to oblige. The ones seeking relationships, who think they can be the one to “fix” me, don’t have to peel back too many layers to discover the futility of their efforts. The space my heart once occupied is barren, so there’s no use in trying to plant themselves there because nothing will ever grow.

I take another drink. The bar has slowly been filling with more Sky Ridge locals as the night goes on, so when I hear the door to the bar open, I think little of it until a quiet settles over the room. I turn my head to the right to see what’s got everyone hushed. Probably an out-of-towner who needs directions.

I quickly clock the gorgeous woman sidling up to the bar on the opposite end. Not a townie. If she’s lost, I will drive her home—and walk her to her bedroom to make sure she arrives safely.

It’s hard to tell if she’s a redhead or blonde with all the neon lights in here, but it falls in loose waves over her shoulders. She’s fit, but has some curves, and paired with her plush lips, this woman’s a knockout.

“Dibs,” Caleb says, pushing off the bar. He’s a rookie shot who’s wrapping up his first fire season. This kid is the most gullible dude I’ve ever met.

“Sit down,” I warn, staring straight ahead. I set my beer bottle on the bartop and keep her in my peripheral vision. Caleb’s way out of his league with this one.

“Here we go,” Xander mutters.

Alright, perhaps I do have a bit of a reputation .

I cock my head toward him, and he exchanges a raised eyebrow at me.

Holding his judgmental stare, I retract my earlier statement. “Ya know what, Caleb? I take it back. Why don’t you go shoot your shot? You called dibs fair and square. I’ll get the next one.”

Xander breaks eye contact and chuckles into his beer before taking a drink.

Caleb narrows his eyes at me, and I shrug. He wastes no time scrambling off his barstool to introduce himself. This woman hasn’t even pulled up a seat yet. As expected, she smiles politely but appears a little uncomfortable with her back to the bar as he rushes to give her his best line, which I would love to hear, if only to have a good laugh. I give him a minute to make an ass of himself.

“Here it comes…” Curly says.

She gives him a sympathetic look and a smile breaks out across my face. Poor kid. The woman sends him back to us like a sad puppy. The corner of my mouth turns up, and I chuckle. He should have known better, but mistakes are the best teachers. Caleb trudges back to our end of the bar, plopping onto his barstool and muttering, “Asshole” into his drink.

“Better luck next time, buddy.” One of the guys gives him a hard slap on the back.

I take a drink and feel her eyes on me. When I glance over, she quickly looks away and takes a seat at the bar. The regular hum of chatter returns among the patrons. She removes her wallet from her purse, opens it in her lap, and tabs through the contents of one of the pockets. Her lips move, as if she’s talking to herself. She’s counting bills. After a couple seconds, she nods to herself, and Lou ambles over to take her drink order.

Afterward, he turns around and grabs a bottle of Jack Daniels off the shelf and an empty glass. My guess is she’s either had a rough day or is celebrating. I observe the casual way she leans back on her stool and rolls her lips together. With outstretched arms, she pitter-pats her fingers on the bartop, surveys the room, and takes in the unfamiliar faces with a soft smile.

Celebrating .

When her gaze finds mine, it stays locked until Lou breaks the spell and sets the glass tumbler with a couple fingers of whiskey in front of her. She bobs her head appreciatively, and he gives her the total.

She plucks out one of the carefully counted bills.

I clear my throat. “Put it on my tab, Lou.”

A disgruntled mutter comes from Caleb.

Her gaze snaps to mine again, and it earns me a smile that reaches her eyes. She holds up her glass, mouthing Thank you .

I nod and wink while taking a swig of the beer in front of me, then turn back to the guys to continue our conversation.

Until Dave Banner bellies up to the bar next to her.

Dave, the structural firefighter who I’ve never liked. Dave, who couldn’t make it as a hotshot. Dave, who slept with my fiancée, Molly, got her pregnant, and then married her. What hole did he crawl out of? They just had their second baby a few weeks ago. He’s got no business looking at this girl the way he is. My jaw tics. I never thought Molly and Dave were a match made, but apparently, I was wrong. They deserve each other. Few things rank worse than their betrayal. I’d want no one to go through what I did.

“You good?” King asks at my side.

“Fine,” I state, turning away from the situation unfolding ten feet away.

Dave’s standing too close for my comfort, and based on her body language, it’s too close for hers as well. When Caleb tried to put moves on her, it was funny. I figured I’d get my shot in later, but now, with two guys hitting on her tonight, there’s no way in hell I’m throwing my hat in the ring. Our town is already proving to be a bunch of desperate swinging dicks. She doesn’t need to add anyone else to the mix .

She shakes her head at his advance, but he’s not accepting the brush off the way Caleb did. I set my beer down and brace my hands on the bar to shove off, then Xander leans back and shouts behind me.

“Hey Dave!” He spins around to face us. I avert my eyes, relaxing my arms and leaning forward. I don’t need that asshole to see the anger I still harbor toward him. “Say, how’s the new baby? Is this you and Molly’s second or third kid? Sorry, I can never remember.”

Smirking, I take a sip of my beer.

“Second,” Dave grinds out.

“Oh, that’s right. Well, congratulations… Be sure to give the wife my best.”

Dave backs off, likely to return to the table where some of the other guys from the local fire station are sitting.

“You didn’t need to do that,” I grumble to Xander.

“Yeah, I did.” He tips back his beer and gulps, continuing, “I rather enjoy the lovely atmosphere of this shithole, and I’m not sure if Lou here”—he gestures with his bottle to the bartender, who’s grinning at us—“would be so keen on letting us return to this fine establishment if you ripped Dave’s head from his shoulders. I sure as shit know Mae and Jack would have a thing or two to say. Which, based on the fire in your eyes, is where we were headed.” He glances back to the bartender. “Am I wrong, Lou?”

King is smart enough not to laugh, but I can feel his beaming smile radiating from the other side of Xander.

“That is correct,” Lou answers with a chuckle. “Mae just replaced the bar mats.”

“They just replaced the bar mats, Cal!” Xander emphasizes, gesturing to said bar mats with an open hand.

I roll my eyes at all of them and down the last of my beer.

“Another?” Lou asks me.

“Yessir.”

He pops the cap and swaps it with my empty one. “This one’s on the house. Don’t let that guy get to you.”

“What guy?” I roll my eyes. Dave didn’t get to me. I don’t need any special treatment.

“Beg your pardon… I believe I was the one that called out Dave on his bullshit. Where’s my free beer, Lou?” Xander argues.

The burn of her stare creeps up my neck.

Fuck it.

While Xander and Lou bicker like old men, I slip off my stool and saunter toward the end of the bar and take the seat next to her. I look straight ahead in silence, and she does the same.

A few minutes pass.

The air between us grows thicker and thicker with anticipation as we both commit to not making the first move. It’s like a game and is surprisingly entertaining. She doesn’t look at me, and I don’t look at her, yet I would put good money down that we’re thinking about the same thing. I nearly finish my beer without uttering one word. Her drink is running low too.

Eventually, she breaks the silence.

“So, are you going to say anything, or are you just sitting there?”

I swallow the rest of my beer and tap two fingers on the bar, indicating another round.

“Definitely just sitting here.”

“Ah, I see,” she states.

Lou returns and collects the old beer bottle and swaps it with a cold one. “She could use a refill,” I say to him. He turns to grab the bottle of whiskey and pours the amber liquid into the short glass.

“Thank you,” she says to Lou when he slides the glass in front of her. I nod my thanks to him before he steps away.

“I can pay for my own drinks,” she says .

“Good, ’cause I’m not paying for this one. Earlier was a one-time thing ’cause I felt bad for you.”

She takes a sip. “There’s that Sky Ridge hospitality I keep hearing about.”

I suck my teeth. “There it is.”

“What makes you think I deserve pity?” she asks.

“Honestly… I don’t know if anyone’s told you this…” I lean toward her and lower my voice. “But, um, you’re really unattractive.”

That makes her laugh, loud enough for Dave to hear, I’m sure, and I chuckle along with her.

“Well, I can’t be that hideous if your friend over there tried to take me home before I could even sit down…”

I wince. “Sorry about that, he’s a rescue.”

“That might be the first honest thing you’ve said since sitting down.”

I shrug and take a pull from my beer bottle. “I’m a habitual liar.”

She takes a sip of her drink. “Oh good, I’m really attracted to liars.”

“Yeah? Maybe I should give you my number, then.”

“Wow,” she says deadpan, and turns to face me. God, she’s even more stunning up close. Her ginger hair matches the subtle freckles that dot the bridge of her nose.

I fucking love freckles… and love fucking the women who wear them.

“Hey, there are plenty of women in this town who would love getting my number.”

“There’re those lies again...” She gestures, fanning herself, and I laugh.

She narrows her eyes at me, and I take a sip of beer, staring back and refusing to break eye contact. I could spend all day gazing into them. Her eyes aren’t the icy blue shade one would normally think of with blue eyes. They’re deep and stormy, reminding me of a turbulent sea.

“Okay.” She pulls out a phone, and I smile. When she hands it over, I furrow my brow. It’s a flip phone. A fucking flip phone ? I’ve never seen this girl in town before, I don’t even know her name, and she pulled out a burner. When I open the Contacts app, and there’re only two: Boss and Landlord , it’s like a red flag parade. I pretend to not notice and start typing in my number while alarms blare in my head. I peer back up at her, and damn if she isn’t the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Fuck it, red might be my new favorite color. I finish typing my number in and save my contact as “Cal the Liar” before passing it back.

“Do I get a name?”

“Scottie.” She holds her palm out in a handshake, and I take it in mine.

“Callahan Woods,” I say. “You gonna text me, Scottie?”

“Probably not,” she says, still shaking my hand and grinning.

I laugh and release her palm. “Well, it was awful meeting you.”

The corner of her mouth curves up in a smile. “Likewise.”

I slide off my barstool.

“Maybe I’ll see you around,” she adds.

“I hope not.” I wink and head back to the guys, finding my spot next to Xander again.

She downs the remaining liquid in her glass and pays Lou, leaving a couple bucks on the bartop before standing and walking out the door without giving me so much as a sideways glance.

I return to my barstool next to King and Xander, and Xander shakes his head. “So, who’s your new friend?” King asks.

“Scottie,” I answer, stealing one more look toward the door. “Scottie the hottie.”

Caleb sighs, still disappointed from his crash and burn earlier.

We spend the next couple hours knocking back beers and retelling stories from the fire we just rolled off of. With each one, our voices get a little louder and less articulate. It’s gonna be a late night tearing it up. It’s been a good season. A couple more assignments and we’ll be wrapping up. I’m about to pay my tab when the phone in my pocket buzzes.

Unknown

Thanks for the drink tonight.

A smile lights up my face, and I tap out my reply.

Anytime.