4. Nick
Nick
Nick arrivedat work later that week with a strange feeling bubbling in his stomach. A feeling he hadn't felt in so long, it took him a few minutes to identify what it was: Anticipation. How long had it been since he'd looked forward to going to work? Yes, he loved his job, but the last couple of years he'd been on autopilot, grateful for the escape from his grief. But now . . . it was more than simply looking forward to the job, it was his trainees he was eager to see—one in particular.
He didn't know how that had happened, or that it even could, but there was something about Rayne Hamilton that kept drawing his attention. Something tangible yet invisible that orbited around Hamilton and had snagged Nick, pulling him closer with each rotation.
"Jesus," he breathed, scrubbing a hand down his face as he sat in his truck in the parking lot while the cooling engine ticked and pinged.
He watched as the sun crested the horizon and wondered if the colors in the sky had always been that vivid. Candy cane clouds kissed in shades of yellow and orange and peach fanned across deep endless blue. Were the colors brighter because he was coming out of his fugue after losing Geoff?
A thought crossed his mind unbidden, that maybe the reason his fog was lifting had something to do with a certain hockey player. There was a radiance to Hamilton that made him stand out in a way that drew people instinctively to him. And Nick understood why. When Hamilton looked at him with his full attention, Nick felt seen somehow. As though Nick was the only person in the world that mattered.
His heart squeezed at the thought.
He'd mattered to Geoff, but Nick hadn't realized until just now how much he'd missed that feeling.
He watched the clouds drift as the sky lightened and with it, an unexpected sense of possibility loosened a tightness in his chest that had been a constant companion since losing his husband. Maybe he was ready to move on.
Nick shook his head and got out of the truck. He knew Geoff would have wanted him to find happiness again. Love. Nick would have wanted that for Geoff if their situations had been reversed. But not with one of his trainees, who was also a professional hockey player and spent half the year crisscrossing the US and Canada.
Nick entered the command office with a quiet "good morning" to Captain Poverly, and after dropping his bag in the back, poured himself a cup of coffee.
"Chip Morin is out." Poverly turned in his chair and pointed at the dry erase board on the wall above the desks. "He left a message late last night."
"Can't say I didn't see that coming," Nick said as he took a sip of the hot brew.
Too bad he hadn't put real money on Morin, who had been overly concerned about the risks of fighting fire and struggled with the basic drills. Nick had taken him aside and given him a pep talk, hoping to help him understand he had potential. He just had to want it. Turned out he hadn't wanted it enough. Nick hated to see new trainees drop out of the program so quickly, but he knew from experience that it was best those who didn't have what it took to be a firefighter didn't stick it out. They never knew what they were going to be faced with when called out to an incident, and they had to be one-hundred percent confident in their teammates to have their backs. In their profession, the stakes were literally life and death.
Sabrina arrived and stopped beside him to scan the board.
"Three down already?" She whistled under her breath. "Probably a few more to go yet."
A whisper in the back of Nick's mind hoped Hamilton didn't drop out, too. He wanted to see Hamilton succeed because not only did he have the right head for the job—level and fearless—he learned fast, picking up each new skill like a fish to water. Suddenly, it became imperative to Nick that Hamilton graduate fire training. Hamilton had to do the work, but Nick would give him as much guidance as possible.
After their morning debriefing, they headed out to the training yard. The trainees were already there, but instead of standing around socializing as they had on their first day, they were spread out doing warm-up exercises—with Hamilton leading them through a set of pushups.
Hamilton laughed at something Wash said, and his deep, resonant laughter rumbled over the concrete like thunder, vibrating in Nick's chest and rippling down his spine. He stopped before the trainees noticed him. Inhaling a slow breath, he counted to five and released it slowly while rubbing his open palms over his thighs.
"You okay?" Sabrina raised an eyebrow at him.
"Yeah, good," he croaked and smiled a smile he knew was too bright.
She studied him for a second, her mouth tipping into a frown, but she nodded. "Okay."
She didn't sound convinced, but he sure as hell wasn't going to voice the feelings roiling inside of him, feelings he hadn't felt in so long he wasn't sure what to do with them. He wasn't sure he could properly articulate them. Was it a simple attraction to a good-looking man? Lust? Was it a completely physical thing, a desire to sate his body's needs? Or was it more? That indefinable ‘it' factor surrounding Hamilton that drew Nick like a bee to honey? No matter the reason, one thing was clear: Nick's interest was piqued.
"Fall in," Captain Poverly called out.
The trainees jumped to their feet and organized themselves into their respective groups in front of their instructors. Nick's gaze met and locked with Hamilton's, and those impossibly blue eyes seemed to reach deep inside Nick, digging up feelings that had been dormant for nearly two years. Nick cleared his throat and dragged his gaze away from Hamilton.
His now four-person team all stood at attention, waiting for the day's training orders.
"We'll start off running through the same drills we've been doing all week," Nick began, pointedly not making eye contact with Hamilton again. "But we'll be adding more distractions."
"Like live fire?" Hamilton asked with an eagerness to his voice that had Nick biting back a smile.
He shook his head. "Not until week three."
The trainees couldn't wait to get to the live fire stage, but they had to master the basics beforehand. Otherwise, they could put them themselves and everyone around them in unnecessary danger.
Nick observed as his team ran through their drills, each showing marked improvement and proficiency as their new skills began to sharpen and ingrain. Against his better judgement, he continually sought out Hamilton, as though the man had some sort of magnetic pull. And if that hadn't been bad enough, the times that Hamilton had caught him looking, he'd grinned back at him. Not in an "I caught you" kind of way, but more that Hamilton . . . liked Nick looking at him.
"Hey, Lieutenant," Hamilton called out when the day's training had ended.
Nick turned to face Hamilton, now out of his turnout gear and in street clothes. His T-shirt clinging to every defined muscle in a far-too distracting way. Hamilton shifted on his feet and glanced away for a second. Nick's stomach swooped. Was this larger-than-life, outgoing man nervous? And why the hell did he find that endearing?
"I, uh . . ." Hamilton huffed before shooting a blinding smile at Nick. "Are you going to be at the fire service booth this weekend?"
Nick frowned. His mind drawing a blank. Or more like, that smile completely derailed his mind, scattering words like debris all over the ground.
"At the Boulder Creek Festival?" Hamilton added.
Oh, right.
"Yes," Nick managed while his brain tried to get back on its tracks. "We'll all be there taking shifts throughout the weekend."
If Nick had thought the smile a few seconds ago was brilliant, the smile Hamilton shot at him now could probably be seen from the moon.
"Great!" Hamilton started walking backwards. He tipped his head. "I'm looking forward to seeing you there."
He turned and walked away with long, confident strides, leaving Nick with a flailing mind and shaky legs.
Nick groaned as he ran a hand through his hair. Seeing Hamilton outside the training center was a bad idea. He was already attracted to the man. Who wouldn't be? Rayne Hamilton was gorgeous. But what if Nick talked with him and realized he liked him? A part of him hoped that Hamilton either didn't show up, or if he did, it was when Nick wasn't manning the booth. But deep down, he knew he was lying to himself.
Nick wasrestless the remainder of Friday night, thinking about those blue eyes and that dazzling smile and wondering what those rock-solid muscles would feel like under his palms. Even Roo had picked up on his mood and stayed close, keeping a watchful eye on him.
Saturday was no better. He'd spent his entire afternoon shift manning the booth at the festival, watching the crowds for Hamilton. Every time he saw someone who might be him—tall, blond, and muscular—his heart did a little skip. When the person turned out not to be him, an equal mix of disappointment and relief washed through him.
Nick was still feeling that jumpy sense of anticipation on Sunday. Sabrina, Capmany, and a couple other firefighters from different stations were working the booth with him. It was the busiest day of the weekend, the spring afternoon was hot, but he enjoyed the community outreach part of the job. The crowds had been steadily growing as the day marched on and a few trainees wandered by. Capmany "volunteered" them to help by handing them fire safety pamphlets and sending them out into the crowd to mingle and chat with people.
Nick kept scanning the throng, telling himself he was not looking for Hamilton even as his inner voice laughed at him for it.
"What's up with you?" Sabrina asked.
"Nothing." Nick busied himself straightening the stacks of flyers and pamphlets, so he didn't have to make eye contact with her.
"You keep searching the crowd like you're looking for someone," she said.
"What, no," he stumbled over his words and heat bloomed in his cheeks. "Of course not."
Nick reached under the table for a bottle of water and topped up Roo's bowl, who was hanging out in the booth with them. She wore a red bandana around her neck, patterned with a standard fire service logo in white.
"Come on, Nick." Sabrina sighed, like she knew he wasn't telling her something, but her voice and eyes were soft. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"
Nick turned away at the dose of guilt that hit him square in the chest. Here he was, lusting over a man he barely knew. A trainee at that. Or at the very least, his libido seemed to be coming out of its hibernation. But the worst part, the part that sent a fresh wave of shame through him, was that if he told her, then these new feelings would be real. How could he ever be with someone else when he still loved the man he lost?
"Hey. Whatever's going on, I'm here." Sabrina placed her hand on his shoulder. "When you're ready, okay?"
His throat tightened.
He was saved from further conversation when a couple of young men and a woman approached the booth, and Sabrina stepped away answer their questions.
Nick was gathering more calendars and pamphlets to put out on the table when he heard a voice behind him he would have recognized anywhere.
"Hey, Lieutenant."
His heart kicked up a notch, and a flush washed over his skin. He's here!
Nick took a deep breath before standing. He straightened up and turned around with a smile. Hamilton stood on the other side of the table, his grin wide and eyes bright. He wore a pair of khaki cargo shorts and a blue Boulder Blitz T-shirt with a fierce-looking illustrated horse holding a hockey stick on it. The shirt molded to his torso, and the short sleeves stretched over his thick biceps.
Nick gulped.
"Oh. Hey, Hamilton." Nick put the materials on the table and started tidying them. "It's . . . ah . . . nice to see you."
Heat crept up his neck. Shit. He was thirty-one years old—a grown man stumbling over his words like a teenager trying to talk to his high school crush for the first time.
Hamilton chuckled. "You can call me Rayne, since we're not in class."
Yes, Nick could call him by his first name, but that felt too personal. So, he simply nodded and shoved his hands into his pants pockets.
Hamilton was grinning, as though he knew the effect he was having on Nick, and then he looked down at what Nick had been organizing and his face lit up.
"A firefighter calendar!" Hamilton snatched one from the top of the pile and began flipping through the pages. "Are you in here? What month are you? August, right? August is hot."
Nick choked on nothing. "Uh . . . No. I'm not in the calendar."
"Shame," Hamilton said with what sounded like genuine regret in his voice. He looked up at Nick with a sly expression on his face. "They'd sell way more of these if you were in it."
Nick had no idea if Hamilton was flirting with him or just being nice, and the unknowing tied him up in knots.
"Uhm . . . Thanks?" Nick winced. Smooth.
Sabrina made a snort-chuckle sound as she passed through the booth behind Nick. He turned a glare on her retreating back.
"So." Hamilton put the calendar back on the stack. "How are things going? Can I help with anything?"
"Ah, no. Thanks," Nick stammered.
"Absolutely," Sabrina piped up, oblivious to the emotions raging through Nick. But then, maybe she knew something was up because her voice was a touch too chipper. "I was just going to take a break so you can keep Nick company."
Hamilton beamed. "My pleasure." He walked around the table to stand beside Nick inside the booth. "Put me to work, boss."
"Uhm . . ."
Before Nick could form words, or even coherent thoughts, Hamilton gasped as his attention snagged on something behind Nick. Hamilton's entire expression brightened and suddenly it felt like the heavens had opened.
He's fucking gorgeous.
"Who is this beauty?"
A flash of jealously lanced through Nick, shocking him as much as the thought that had just bounced through his mind. He reined himself in as he followed Hamilton's gaze to find Roo standing up and wagging her tail at him.
"That's Roo," Nick said, his voice sounding thick to his ears.
Hamilton kneeled and Roo went straight to him, greeting him like a long-lost friend. Her entire backside wriggled with her wagging tail, and she lapped at Hamilton's cheeks with her wet tongue. Which surprised Nick, because even though she was a friendly dog, she was usually more reserved with strangers at first meeting.
"Well, hello sweetheart," Hamilton cooed, and Roo ate it up as she tried to crawl into his lap.
Hamilton laughed at her antics. The sound was deep and carefree, and Nick got the impression Hamilton laughed often. Weight that Nick had been carrying around on his shoulders since losing Geoff lifted a little more then, as he watched this big hockey player baby-talking to his dog—which made Nick like him. The very thing he'd been afraid of happening.
"Is she yours?" Hamilton looked up and his eyes glittered with joy.
Nick nodded because he still hadn't recovered the ability to form words.
"I always wanted a dog," Hamilton said, his focus back on Roo. "But it wouldn't be fair to them. My schedule is too hectic during hockey season with practice and game travel."
"Did you have a dog when you were a kid?" Nick asked, finding his voice again.
Hamilton shook his head. "Nah." He rubbed Roo's tummy as he spoke with what sounded like forced nonchalance. "My folks had enough trouble just looking after themselves, let alone me."
"I'm sorry," Nick said, but he wasn't entirely sure what he was apologizing for. Hamilton's parents, maybe? Or Hamilton himself, because from that one statement Nick wondered who's taken care of him as a child.
Hamilton smiled up at him then, and the tug on Nick's heartstrings gave way to butterflies taking flight in his stomach.
Standing now, Roo leaned against Hamilton's leg, tongue lolling happily from her mouth as she stared up at him with affection. Nick understood the feeling because he felt it too, having also been pulled into Hamilton's charismatic orbit. For a long few seconds Hamilton didn't move, and Nick couldn't, trapped in the other man's intoxicating stare.
Then Hamilton's smile widened, and Nick's throat constricted.
All these awakening feelings hurt as much as they eased the grief he'd been holding onto for too long, but he really had no choice when the sun that was Rayne Hamilton shone so brightly on him.
"So, what do you need me to do?"
Hamilton ended up staying the rest of the day, entertaining Nick when there were lulls in the crowds with stories of his favorite moments in hockey, and the time swam with dolphins in Hawaii, and the whole time he kept sending heated glances or secret smiles Nick's way. As the day wore on, Nick looked for those smiles as though he could learn their secrets. And when the festival ended and it was time to pack up, Hamilton helped restock boxes with leftover materials and break down the booth.
"Thanks for helping today," Nick said as he shoved the last box into the back of his truck.
"You, uh . . ." Hamilton nodded. He glanced away, nibbling on his lower lip. Then he rolled his shoulders back and stared intently at Nick. "Want to go get dinner or a drink or something?"
Nick didn't quite compute for a second but then his palms suddenly grew sweaty, and his heart raced. He shoved his hands into his pockets. Hamilton was a gorgeous man, effortlessly charming, and he'd been great with everyone who'd come by the booth. Gracious when people recognized him from the Blitz and posed for selfies with genuine smiles, and even Roo was taken with him.
But it had been so long since Nick had felt anything other than grief, and his emotions were all tangled up in themselves. He wanted to say yes, desperately, but something held him back. Fear? Guilt?
"Uh . . . no,' Nick stammered. "No, thank you."
"Oh, yeah. No worries," Hamilton said too brightly, and regret settled into Nick's gut. "I'm sure it's been a busy weekend for you, and we have class tomorrow."
"Yeah," Nick said. And because his mouth had somehow disconnected from his brain, he added, "Another time."
"You got it." Hamilton beamed at him. "See you tomorrow morning, Lieutenant."
With a tip of his head, he turned and walked away. Nick watched until he was out of sight, and then looked down at Roo, who sat watching him expectantly.
"You liked him, didn't you?" She stood and wagged her tail. "I think I might too."
She barked at him and dropped into a play bow, drawing laughter from him with her antics.
"Alright, you." He gave her a quick scrub behind the ears. "Let's go home."