Chapter 7

Noah felt a flutter of apprehension stirring in his belly the next day when he entered the station house. Had the guys seen him with Hoyt? Would they wonder why they'd disappeared together?

Even with his body feeling wonderfully relaxed and his heart lighter than it had felt in months, he couldn't let go of that dark cloud of worry. He wasn't ready to come out to them, not just yet. Not when he wasn't sure what his time with Hoyt really meant.

Yes, he was far from sated. Hell, he could hardly wait to see Hoyt again. They'd agreed to hook up at Hoyt's on his next day off, although he'd have to wait until after Hoyt had finished work at the shop. Hoyt had even given him a key to let himself in with strict instructions about what he was to do while he waited. Foremost was settling the number five plug in his ass.

Hoyt appeared eager for him to be ready. Noah was nervous but also eager. Deep inside, he knew he was taking a big step—his first time being fucked by a man. He was glad his first time would be with Hoyt. But he still wasn't ready to label what they had or even what Hoyt was to him. He could barely think the word lover without cringing a bit. If Hoyt's path ever crossed any of his buddies when Noah was with him, how would he introduce him? My friend Hoyt seemed too chicken-shit. My Dom wasn't entirely accurate because while they had played with some of the equipment, and Hoyt had clearly been in charge of everything they'd done, Noah didn't feel the least bit submissive. So, at least one question was answered.

The D/s play was just that to him. Play. A sexy game. It definitely wasn't something that defined who he was or what he wanted for his future. The fact that Hoyt was letting him off some of the usual rules meant that he was feeling his way through their relationship as well, seeing what worked.

The other question still remained. Noah was unsure. He'd been with women and had loved making love to them, but he'd never been in love. The lust he felt just from looking into Hoyt's cool blue eyes was a steep incline. Sharper, faster than anything he'd ever experienced. But was it because it was the right fit or simply because it was something new and exciting?

He closed his locker and took a deep breath. Time to face the guys. He hoped that if they'd noticed him with Hoyt, they'd tease the crap out of him because then he'd know they were all right with his little bi-pass on the wild side.

Everyone was seated around the conference table in the rec room. Lieutenant Triplett gave him a frown because he'd dawdled so damn long in the locker room, stalling the moment he'd have to face the music.

"Glad you could join us, Turner," Knox Triplett said, then continued with his morning briefing.

They reviewed the pass-on log from the previous shift, which covered the calls they'd responded to and what apparatus was out of service and needed to be turned in for repair. They reviewed the training plan for the day.

"Leighton Elementary is bringing twenty second-graders here for a tour at one." His gaze cut to Noah. "Since you seem to be dragging your feet today, they're yours. Harris can assist since it's going to be his job from now on as the new firefighter."

Noah grimaced but nodded, then looked to Harris, who gave him a one-sided grin.

What did that smile mean? Was he laughing because Noah had been saddled babysitting school kids or because he'd spied him leaving with Hoyt from the club Friday night? Noah blew out a breath and turned his attention back to the LT.

But the station officer was already winding up the briefing. "Check the hoses. Clean the trucks. Let's have a safe day. That'll be all."

Noah pushed up quickly and headed to the kitchen counter to snag a doughnut from the open box—anything to avoid talking with the others just yet. The box was Cornucopia's trademark pink. The station house had gotten hooked on them when one of the police officers' wives had brought boxes of the gourmet confections to share during one of their Saturday morning games. He reached inside for a glazed doughnut with edible silver balls forming curlicues across the top.

"Hey, you missed my big night."

A hand smacked his shoulder and stayed there. Noah glanced at Coop, whose cheeks were a little burnished.

"I got busy," Noah said, "besides, I thought you weren't keen on us being in the audience."

Coop shrugged. "I got over it quick." He arched a brow. "Anton showed me how to use a wand. By the time he had me strip to give Moira the orgasm she'd earned, I wasn't thinking about who might be watching. She loved it. We went through online catalogs all night to find one of our own."

Noah grinned. "Now I'm sorry I missed it."

"Yeah, saw you leaving with some dude. Was he a member? Looked like he could have been one of Mondo's friends."

Noah took a bite of his doughnut, hoping that would cue Coop he wasn't ready to talk about it. But Coop stared so long Noah swallowed. "No, he used to be a member."

Coop's gaze honed. "But he came last night. Special occasion?"

Noah swallowed. Coop knew. "Actually, it was kind of…a date, I guess."

Coop's smile was slow and genuine. "Good for you, Noah."

Another hand clapped his back. "That was one serious-lookin' Dom you disappeared with," Gage said in his low, gruff voice. "He go easy on your ass?"

Noah coughed. "Fuck sake, Gage. You trying to choke me?"

"Nah, I don't want to do CPR on you. You can save it for your new boyfriend."

One glance at Gage, and Noah shook his head, grinning. Yeah, the guys had figured it out, and this was their way of letting him know they were cool with it. He relaxed. "How'd Luke do Friday night?"

Gage laughed and smacked him again. "You'll have to ask him. He disappeared with a blonde in tall, shiny boots who had chains circling her boobs and covering her pussy. Seemed to be pretty happy."

The three laughed and glanced around at Luke, who was still seated but giving them dark glares, which set off another round of chuckles.

"So you gonna bring him around?" Coop asked, plucking a doughnut from the pretty box.

Noah shrugged. "I don't know. I honestly don't know where this is heading. Or if it's really for me."

"Well, he'll be welcome," Gage said, patting him again. "Now, I know you're probably dog tired from whatever it was you two were doing, but I need help rolling out the hoses."

Noah nodded and gave Coop a happy smile. At least there was one less worry on his mind. Not that he would've stopped seeing Hoyt if the guys hadn't been accepting. But he liked knowing he didn't have to keep his private life on the down low. The men on his shift were family—a big, nosy, incestuous bunch. He finished off the doughnut and headed to the engines.

Hoyt let himself into the shop with his key and made his way to the Camaro. So he hadn't told Noah the car would be done this soon—a lie by omission. After calling around, he'd found a starter kit the same day Noah had dropped off the car. He'd have the repair done today. Whether he gave him a call right away or not, well, that was why he was here.

Alone in the shop, he had time to think. Everything had happened so fast he felt a little breathless. Noah wasn't Jason and would never replace him in his heart.

So, what was he really looking for? A hook-up? But he'd never been one for one-night stands. They were dangerous. Tawdry. He wasn't looking for a love connection either. Been there. Nearly killed himself with booze after Jason had passed because he'd wanted to crawl right into the grave with him.

He'd never thought he'd get over losing Jason. They'd talked about living together, growing old together—had made vacation plans and bucket lists. But every dream had shattered when he'd sat beside Jason's bedside, a witness to the torturous end of his lover's life.

He'd wanted to be strong, but they'd both shed tears. Near the end, he'd crawled into the bed beside Jason and held him as carefully as he could because Jason was so frail from the cancer that riddled his spine and organs. He'd begged him not to go, even knowing Jason was in pain.

Tears had welled in Jason's eyes. "You have to let me go, Hoyt," he'd whispered.

Hoyt had buried his face in the corner of his neck. "I can't."

"Not your choice, baby. I love you, but you're going to have to go on alone."

Hoyt's throat had burned with tears. He shook his head.

Jason had offered a slight grin, likely all he'd had the energy to muster. "It'll be okay to miss me. Cry even. But we had our time. I have no regrets."

Hoyt had a million. Could hardly speak for all the regrets that piled one atop the other.

"It's okay to cry. To be angry. But you have to move on. I'll be mad as fuck if you don't. It's okay to love again…"

"Shut up," he'd said, his voice so thick he hadn't recognized it. Love again? Never. He hadn't been able to imagine it.

Which was why he was alone today, working on a Camaro that had belonged to another dead guy. He hadn't been able to fix Jason. But he could give something to Noah that mattered.

Was he falling for the firefighter? It seemed too soon to know, but his thoughts had been consumed with Noah from the first sight of him standing there, looking so awkward and embarrassed by his attraction to Hoyt.

Part of Hoyt wanted to resent the fact Noah was healthy and breathing and willing to be with him. Which didn't make sense, but then nothing about love ever did. With Jason, he hadn't fallen like a ton of bricks. It had been a slow evolution. Meeting at La Forge, then Jason joining the bike club and making road trips into the Texas Hill Country. He'd been attracted from the start, and Jason had let him know early on which way he swung, but he'd been leery about letting anyone that close.

And hadn't he been right? Where was he now? He lived in a house that bore Jason's stamp on every room. He'd gone through the motions of living—showing up for work, heading to his mother's for Sunday dinners—but every other hour had been empty.

Not so the last couple of days. He'd felt a resurgence of energy and desire. He'd taken Noah to the bed he'd shared with Jason and hadn't felt a smidgeon of guilt. This was what Jason had wanted for him.

But Hoyt didn't know if he could risk his heart again.

He tried hard not to think about how he and Noah had spent their Saturday. Naked for most of it. Hands and mouths busy during blistering-hot sex, followed by long, lazy hours resting against each other—in the bed, then on the couch in the living room, watching old Westerns—as comfortable with each other's bodies as an old married couple.

The day had been pure bliss. Like a soft rain after a scorching day. And the more he learned about Noah—about his past, his work, his crew at the firehouse—the closer he felt as though the sharing was somehow binding them together.

He'd even talked about his love of motorcycles, about his time spent in juvie after he'd gotten drunk and stolen a car for a joy ride. Noah had said he'd ridden when he was younger and might like to do it again—with Hoyt. They'd talked about the places they wanted to see.

Everything they'd said had been tentative, testing. As though they'd wanted to find disjoints of likes and preferences, but there had been none. They seemed to fit. Right from the start. Which scared the shit out of Hoyt.

Straightening his shoulders, he went to the floating rack with his tools. He'd replace the starter and drop the car at the station house. Maybe he'd tell Noah they needed to slow down. Perhaps not see each other until the weekend or at the club. Anything to place whatever this was between them firmly in the play category.

Maybe then he could compartmentalize his emotions and keep them in check. The last thing he'd ever want was to feel the way he had when Jason had slipped away. That bleak emptiness was worse than simply being lonely. Lonely he'd done before Jason. Lonely was what he'd had until Noah had come near. Lonely was more reliable and less risky than love.

"We'll need the saw, spreaders, and shears!" Lieutenant Triplett shouted as the men began pulling equipment from the truck. Seeing that Gage and Coop had the tools pulled, Noah grabbed the thickly padded shroud they'd need to protect the driver from sparks and debris.

Already, traffic cones and flares had been placed to block traffic. The police had yet to arrive to direct traffic into a parking lot to circumvent the two crushed cars filling both lanes. Lights from the engine illuminated the crash scene.

Rain was falling steadily, dripping off the rim of Noah's hat as he ran toward the first vehicle where Luke Harris, who had EMS training, was already inside the car next to the female driver, talking to her while he assessed her condition. She was young, dark-haired, with blood smudging her nose and mouth.

Noah took off his hat and bent through her window. "How's she doing?" he asked, directing his question to Luke.

" She's fine," the woman answered, swearing under her breath. "That idiot was in my lane."

Noah didn't bother telling her that idiot who'd likely been driving drunk wasn't their priority. He'd died before they'd reached the scene. She was entitled to her anger. Pain etched her features.

Luke grinned across at him. "Lucy here doesn't appear to be in bad shape. Her nose was broken by the airbag, but her pupils were even. She can wiggle her fingers and toes. Her legs are trapped, though. We'll have to pry her out."

Noah eased away and looked at her mangled Corolla. The front end had accordioned, taking the shock of the impact. Her door was jammed. Luke had broken the passenger-side window to get inside and then broken out hers. She was lucky. There was no smell of gas, just radiator fluid and burnt rubber. They had time to do this right.

Ducking his head inside again, he said, "We won't be able to get her out the door. We'll cut the roof off and lift her out." Noah passed the padded shroud he'd carried across to Luke. "Cover up when we start the saw."

In the distance came the wail of the ambo's siren and the bleating of a police siren. "I'll be back," he said. To Lucy, he said, "You hang tight there. You're in good hands."

"It's not like I'm going anywhere," she muttered.

Noah grinned at her show of spunk. She had to be scared, but she was holding up well. He slapped the roof and backed away. He turned and saw that Gage was bringing the saw. He took another step backward to make room and heard shouting.

"Noah! Watch out!"

"Fucking bastard!"

Suddenly, he was sailing through the air, his mind not catching up with what had happened until he landed with a thud against a wet embankment.

Footsteps pounded toward him. "Noah!"

Coop's voice, sounding scared, floated toward him.

Noah shook his head and tried to sit, but hands gently forced him down.

"Don't move," Coop said. "Not until the EMTs get here."

"What the fuck happened?" he asked, wondering why his words came out slurred.

"Someone didn't want to take the detour," Coop said. "Didn't even fucking stop."

Noah waved a hand. "'S alright. I'm fine."

More footsteps pounded toward him. "Turner, you takin' a nap?"

Noah grinned crookedly up at the LT. "If you could get Coop off my fuckin' chest, I'll just get back to work."

Coop and the LT shared a glance. "You sit tight, Turner. That's an order."

"Yes…sir."

Rain pelted his face the moment the LT moved away, and Noah realized he must have lost his hat sometime while he was cartwheeling through the air. "Hey, my face okay?"

Coop frowned down at him. "Your face is just as ugly as it's always been."

He gave a crooked smile despite the pain lancing through his side. "Good," he gritted out, finding it hard to catch a breath. "Wouldn't want Hoyt to throw up the next time he sees me."

"Huh." Coop's hand covered his hand and gave a gentle squeeze. "Just hold on there, buddy."

"Sure. Nowhere else to go." Noah had the fleeting thought just as everything turned dark that he should have told someone the Camaro was in Hoyt's shop. Maybe he should have told someone what his name was. How would they find him now?