3. Rayne

Rayne

"Okay."Rayne turned to face his fellow trainees, who stood in a half circle while Lieutenant Seavers explained proper forced entry techniques. "No one told me how hot firefighters are."

Especially Lieutenant Seavers, but he kept that to himself. The sun had been shining on him when his row of trainees were placed with the too-sexy-for-his-own-good instructor.

Kelly Wash, who he'd met and hit it off with when he'd first arrived that morning, chuckled softly beside him.

"I'm right there with you," she said under her breath.

But one trainee standing on the other side of Kelly—Brownlow, who'd kept to himself, not talking to anyone when they'd all arrived and had been waiting for their instructors—was frowning at him.

Rayne raised his brows in question.

"Shh," Brownlow whisper-hissed, his eyes narrowed.

Both of Rayne's eyebrows climbed higher as he met Kelly's equally surprised—and amused—gaze.

"Did he just shush me?"

Kelly disguised a bark of laughter as a cough and elbowed him in the side.

"Shush," she whispered with a gleeful note in her voice.

He shot a glare at her before returning his focus to their sexy instructor, just as the lieutenant turned to face them as he explained how they used the Halligan and axe to force open doors. Rayne knew from his classes what tools were needed, and how to use them in theory, but he'd been itching for hands-on experience. He'd felt the same bubbles of excitement fizzing in his stomach as he'd prepared for his first day of fire training as he did when it was game day with the Blitz.

"First, we'll sound the door to see where any locks are," Seavers was saying, his gaze landing on Rayne for an extended second.

Hazel. His eyes are a green hazel.

Rayne watched as Seavers raised the Halligan bar with the curved, two-pronged claw end facing the door. He rammed the metal door from top to bottom in five spots near the frame. The door bowed slightly where it was free of locks, but the top and middle had no give.

"There's a lock here, and here." Seavers placed the palm of his hand on the door, where it had shown no give. Then he pointed to the space between. "This here is where we want to gap it."

Rayne swallowed as he watched Seavers attack the door. His attention riveted to the service pants that hugged Seavers' beautiful, firm ass, and stretched over his strong thighs. He'd removed his hoodie as the day warmed, and his long-sleeved "Instructor" T-shirt fit tightly to his lean frame. The muscles in his back and arms flexed and contracted as he worked the tool into the jam, showing them a few ways to angle the adze—an arched cutting blade set at a right angle to the handle—and pick end to force the door open.

Heat that had nothing to do with the temperature under Rayne's turnout gear spread through him. Had he ever seen anything sexier than a gorgeous man busting a door open? Nope.

He covertly adjusted himself, but when he glanced around to make sure no one had noticed, Kelly was grinning at him. He smiled back and mouthed, What? doing his best impression of an innocent, wide-eyed puppy. She shook her head before turning back to the demonstration.

Which was what he needed to focus on. Learning the skills for a new career, and not getting sidetracked by a man with a beautiful body, captivating hazel eyes, and sinfully sweet voice.

Lieutenant Seavers put the tools down against the doorframe he'd been demonstrating on. "Who wants to go first?"

"Me," Rayne called out at the same time as Brownlow.

Lieutenant Seavers pointed at Rayne. "Hamilton. You're up."

Brownlow shot another disapproving frown Rayne's way. Like it was his fault that the lieutenant chose him first. He ignored Brownlow and stepped forward.

Rayne's nerve endings thrummed as he approached the door, a mere couple of feet between him and Lieutenant Seavers. He swallowed as he picked up the tools.

"What are you going to do first?" Lieutenant Seavers asked in his soft-spoken, silky-smooth voice, which only served in ratcheting up Rayne's awareness of his nearness.

"Sound the door for access gaps," Rayne rasped.

"Sound for locks, but close enough." Seavers stepped back, giving Rayne room, and a waft of fresh citrus and spicy leaves drifted in the space between them.

Rayne nodded as he took a deep, calming breath to center himself. He wasn't here to get all hot for teacher. He was here to carve out a career beyond hockey, something that, hopefully, he'd enjoy just as much as the game.

Seavers watched as he practiced opening the door, but actually getting it open was a hell of a lot harder than he'd expected. After a few tries, and corrections from Seavers, he got the hang of it.

"I did it," he hooted when he'd finally gotten through, immediately seeking Seavers for approval.

Seavers held his gaze for an extended second and then nodded—one quick bob of his head.

"Now practice with a partner," he said before moving away to observe Brownlow and Thatcher working on the other door as a team.

"You hit first," Kelly said, taking the Halligan from him. "Ten bucks says I get this open faster than you did."

Rayne laughed as he readied the axe to hammer the adze end of the Halligan bar with. "You're on, girlfriend."

Four hours later and ten dollars lighter, the sweat was running down the middle of his back like a river, and his firefighting gear felt fifty times heavier than it had when he'd first donned it. Thankfully, Captain Poverly called for a much-needed lunch break when a food truck pulled into the parking lot beside the administration building at noon sharp.

The instructors grouped up and headed toward the main building while Rayne and the trainees ate their lunches—that they'd brought from home or ordered from the food truck—at tree-shaded picnic tables in a small park-like area beside the admin building.

He shared a table with Kelly, Morin, Thatcher, and Garcia, who hadn't been in their five-person team, but who Rayne had met earlier. After a stretch of silence as they wolfed down their sandwiches, Rayne and his new friends fell into easy conversation about their backgrounds, reasons for wanting to join the service, and about their first day of training so far. And of course, there were plenty of questions peppered at Rayne about hockey.

"I'm just glad to be out of all that gear," Morin said with what sounded like a pout in his voice. "That shit felt like at least three hundred pounds. How are we supposed to run up and down stairs, and climb ladders wearing all of that?"

Rayne raised his eyebrows. Morin was the biggest guy out of all the trainees. He had at least three inches on Rayne and his muscles had muscles. But muscle didn't always equate to aerobic fitness, and it took that and more to be a firefighter. Morin had been hesitant and almost timid on the skills stations and had struggled with finding the ladder's balance point until Seavers had taken him aside for a quiet conversation. Rayne had watched their interaction from the corner of his eye, pursing his lips when Seavers had placed a hand on Morin's massive shoulder. He'd wanted that weight of that hand on his shoulder. Whatever Seavers had said to Morin worked, because he'd come back to the ladder with a little more confidence.

"It's only seventy pounds," Kelly said, like that wasn't almost half her body weight.

"And you need all that gear to stay alive," Rayne added, taking a swig of his water. "Where do you live?"

"Lyons," Morin said with a hesitant note in his voice at Rayne's lack of segue. "Why?"

"Perfect." Rayne smiled. "Leave an hour earlier in the mornings and run with me before training."

Surprise flashed over Morin's face. "Before training? We'll be wiped out before we even start."

"Nah. Not at all." Rayne wanted to help his teammate out, and inviting him along on his morning runs seemed like the easiest way to avoid potentially offending him. "A little aerobic exercise will wake you up and help with carrying all that gear."

Morin didn't seem convinced, but he nodded. "I'll think about it."

Rayne had put the offer out there. The rest was up to Morin and how much he wanted to be a firefighter, but Rayne wasn't going to hold his breath. If Morin truly wanted to be a firefighter, he'd have arrived at training in the best physical condition he could be.

Movement caught his attention as Brownlow sat down beside him. Rayne braced himself.

"Look," Brownlow said, his voice low so as not to carry. "I take this training seriously. Being not just a firefighter, but the best firefighter I can be, is the only thing I've ever wanted to do."

Rayne didn't know how to reply to that, other than to say, "Okay . . ."

"I'm sure I speak for everyone here when I say we don't need any distractions."

Kelly, who must have had the hearing of a cat, leaned over and pointedly said, "Nobody speaks for me."

Rayne bit back a grin as he addressed Brownlow. "What exactly are you implying here?"

"Well, for one, there's no place for class clowns here," Brownlow began, his tone patronizing. "Some of us are actually trying to listen to the instructors."

"Are you serious right now?" Rayne leaned back to get a better bead on Brownlow's expression, and yes, the man appeared dead serious.

"And for another, I don't even know why you're here at all. You have a career." Brownlow continued digging his hole, either in complete ignorance or complete arrogance. "Don't think you can skate through fire training just because you're a famous professional hockey player. It's not fair to the rest of us to have you trading on your fame to get special attention from the instructors."

Rayne rocked back, staring at Brownlow in utter disbelief. He ground his back molars together at the nerve of the pretentious asshole.

"Wow." Kelly whistled through her teeth on his other side.

"Famous?" Rayne did his level best to keep his voice even and friendly, but he couldn't hold back the sharp edge to his words. "Only die-hard hockey fans, locals, and puck bunnies know who I am." He paused, letting his gaze roam the length of Brownlow's body. He lowered his voice and said, "Which one are you?"

Kelly snickered beside him.

Red bloomed over Brownlow's cheeks. His jaw worked like a goldfish out of water, gasping. He got up quickly and walked away without another word. Rayne watched him go through narrowed eyes and hoped the instructors mixed up their teams after this week so he wouldn't have to work with Brownlow. The guy was a total dick.

"Dayum," Kelly muttered under her breath.

"Right." Rayne chuckled, but it felt forced. People had said some shitty things to him over the years, though mostly it had been homophobic slurs. This was the first time someone had attacked him simply for playing a sport he loved.

"You are kind of famous, though," Kelly said with a teasing note in her voice. "Can I have your autograph?"

"Shut up," he said without heat and bumped his shoulder into hers.

Later that night, after his first day of fire training was over, a long hot shower to soothe muscles he didn't know he had, and a huge dinner, he dropped into bed early. Shit, he'd thought hockey training camp was tough, but firefighting training put that to shame. And they hadn't even gotten to the live fire sessions yet.

He flicked off his bedside lamp, and the last thing he thought about before he fell asleep was the gorgeous Lieutenant Seavers and his beautiful, but oddly sad golden-green eyes, and his sexy-smooth soft voice that drew Rayne to him like a magnet every time he spoke.