3. Aidan

CHAPTER 3

Aidan

“This one is going to be easy,” I tell Matt, my co-worker on the CFD, as we stroll into an upscale hotel. “Stalled elevator with entrapment is the easiest type of call to get on New Year’s Eve.”

Matt is a veteran in the department and he gives me a cynical look and shakes his head. “Still so wide-eyed with enthusiasm. You make me feel fucking old, you cheerful little shit.”

I give him a grin as I carry the step-ladder easily with one hand. “I am not wide-eyed. I just happen to like my job. Oh, and you’re actually ancient , you crusty old fuck.”

Matt just snorts. This is our way of showing camaraderie with each other. Too much kindness makes him visibly uncomfortable. I’m used to it and I’m cool with our dynamic. He reminds me of my grandfather, who retired from the department ten years ago. He shows love with insults.

“I’m assigned to power,” Matt says. “The elevator inspection on file says it’s a traction elevator and the maintenance man is meeting me upstairs to let me in. I’ll radio you from the penthouse. Keep ‘em calm.”

“Will do.” The penthouse isn’t the top apartment with sweeping views of the skyline. In elevator terms, it’s the room above the elevator shaft with the motor and shiv and other mechanics. Matt needs to kill the power to all the elevators in the hoistway before we open the door. Not ideal for a night with lots of guests in the hotel, but it’s necessary for everyone’s safety. We’ll just have to do the recovery as quickly as possible.

I head over to the elevator bank with our third, Wyatt, who is smart and efficient as hell. Wyatt loves to take the lead on the actual mechanics and leave the people part to me. He’s a social guy outside of calls, but on site, he focuses on logistics, whereas I love helping people. I get along with everyone, from kids to the elderly, and everyone in between. I’ve been told I have a reassuring face. I’m better at victim rescue than he is.

“This is a hoistway door. Just a drop-key hole,” he says. “They’re between one and two. Easy.”

I knock on the elevator door and call out in a booming voice, “Chicago Fire Department. Just stay calm. We’re going to get the door open and get you out in just a minute.”

There isn’t a response. Hopefully, they just can’t hear me and aren’t injured. Sometimes the car jumps when it stops. Or more typically, someone panics from the enclosed space. The emergency light and fan should be running, but it’s still unnerving to a lot of people to be trapped even briefly.

“Sucks they almost made it to the first floor,” Wyatt says as we head for the stairs to climb to the second floor. “And it’s thirty minutes to midnight.” He gives me a grin. “Hope they’re feeling friendly in there.”

“We’d better hustle. No one wants to ring in the new year stuck in an elevator. Especially with strangers.”

My younger sister had commented yesterday that it sucked that I am ringing in the new year at work, but I don’t mind. I’d prefer it’s me on duty—single guy, no kids—than the crew with spouses and families. They deserve to be at home with their loved ones.

Though I’d also prefer not to be single. I like being in a relationship, but the past year has been a bit of a dry spell for me. I had a girlfriend for four years in my early twenties, but it ended when she moved to Los Angeles. I loved her, but I love Chicago, my family and my job too. I couldn’t sacrifice all of this to be sitting in traffic on the expressway all day. Or at least that’s my vision of L.A. Then about nine months ago I briefly dated a guy who looked good on paper—until he stole a thousand bucks out of my nightstand. I can be a little too trusting, I admit it.

But I’d rather give people the benefit of the doubt than assume the worst from jump. If that costs me a grand, so be it.

It has me a little hesitant, though. I’ve been sticking primarily to hookups the last few months, which means a kiss at midnight with a special someone wasn’t going to happen tonight anyway. I’m happy to be at work.

Our radios crackle. It’s Matt. “Power’s out. Go ahead.”

“We’re up.” I set the ladder down and open the hoistway door in the shaft. “Gate restrictor.”

I step back to let Wyatt check out the safety door. They all open slightly differently and he loves to figure them out in ten seconds or less. He considers it a fun personal challenge. I consider it boring.

I call out again. “Fire department. Step away from the door please and we’ll have you out in just a minute. Happy New Year, folks!”

Wyatt rolls his eyes at me. He already has the gate restrictor open, but it usually stops at around three inches for another safety mechanism. He pushes down a handle and then the gate is open.

Because the elevator is between two floors, several feet of the car is now accessible. I pop my flashlight and my head in and announce myself again.

What I see are two people making the most of the time trapped. I’m looking down on them, but I see a large man in a suit with his hand up a woman’s dress. A very sexy woman’s dress. I see lots of smooth fair skin, cleavage, and wavy brown hair.

Lucky guy.

They leap apart from each other and blink up at me.

The face of the woman matches the body. She’s gorgeous. Pouty red lips, long lashes, an elegant nose. I bet she has dimples. Damn, I love some fucking dimples. On a woman’s face and on her ass. I love to kiss them. I smile at her. I’d say it’s in reassurance, but it might also just be in appreciation for how beautiful she is.

“Chicago Fire Department. Everyone okay in there?”

“We’re fine,” the man says.

I fight the urge to grin. He doesn’t sound fine. He sounds like he just got cock-blocked and is none too happy about it. Can’t say I blame the guy. The woman is smoothing down her dress and if I’m not mistaken, her purse and panties are lying on the floor of the car.

“Oh, thank God!” the woman says breathlessly. “I’m so glad you’re here! That took forever.”

Her male companion frowns at her. I wouldn’t call him conventionally good-looking. More like rough and tumble, which can be sexy, but the scowl on his face ruins it.

“What’s the distance?” Wyatt asks me.

“Within protocol.” If the car was more than thirty-six inches from the floor, we’d need to call in a safety crew and our battalion chief to assist. “Ladder.”

The woman has rushed to the front of the elevator and is raising her arms up like I’m just supposed to haul her out of the elevator by her armpits. Which I could, but it’s much safer to use a ladder.

“Ma’am, I need you to step back so I can put a ladder down for you.”

“Ma’am? For fuck’s safe, I’m twenty-eight! Don’t ma’am me until I’m at least forty.”

Sexy and sassy. I find that hot as hell. Too bad she has a boyfriend.

“Sorry. Miss. Can you step back for me, please?”

“Just please get me out of here.” She does obey though, taking two steps backwards.

“Elise, give him room.” The guy gently takes her elbow and tries to tug her further away.

She gives a huff of impatience.

I let the ladder down. Already anticipating she’s going to just leap onto it, I caution her. “Let me secure it. I’ll give you the go-ahead when it’s safe.”

“Thank you,” she says. “You’re a lifesaver. Literally.” She smiles up at me.

Yep, dimples. Very nice.

Damn, if I don’t feel like puffing my chest out just a little at that. As I check to make sure the ladder is stable, I comment, “Looks like the emergency lights and the fan didn’t go on. Hope it wasn’t too hot in there.”

She shoots a bemused look at her boyfriend. “It was actually very hot.”

“I can imagine,” I say, casually.

But something about my tone gives me away. The guy gives me a sharp glare.

I ignore it. “Okay, miss, you can climb up. Just slow and steady, no running.”

She grips the ladder and puts her heels on the first rung. She teeters a little, and I have a hell of a view of her bouncing breasts before she recovers. I wasn’t trying to look, but my angle and those breasts? It was unavoidable.

“Don’t forget your purse.”

“Oh, crap, Blake, my purse. Can you grab it?” she pleads, glancing back over her shoulder. The movement makes her lose her balance. “Ah!” she squeaks.

I’m in a squat and I reach out with both hands and press them firmly on her forearms to secure her against the ladder and prevent backward motion.

Her boyfriend has his palms square on her ass and they remain there the entire time she ascends the ladder. I would say he is concerned for her safety, but I also get the sense he’s staking his claim.

I get the message loud and clear. I don’t hit on other guy’s girlfriends. That’s not my style. Plenty of people in the single pool to play with.

She’s eye level with me now and I release her arms and shift back to give her room. I use a professional tone. “You’re doing great. Just a few more steps.” I make a point not to look at her chest, even though her dress seems to have stayed down around the fourth step while she kept climbing.

“Damn it.” She lets go with one hand to tug her dress up.

I reach back out in alarm.

She’s doing a one-armed flapping thing while saying, “Oh, shit, oh, shit, oh shit!”

But her boyfriend pushes her forward again.

One of her breasts has popped out of her dress. Not all of it. But like eighty percent of it. I definitely see areola. Clearing my throat, I decide to keep my eyes on hers and get her on the hotel floor before I tell her or she’ll just let go of the ladder again.

In fact, I think I’ll let her discover it on her own so I don’t get a fist in the face from her boyfriend, who is fucking huge. Not that I couldn’t hold my own with him, but I can’t fight back when I’m on duty.

But once I take her hand and help her up onto the floor, the dress is covering more. She immediately tugs it up further, which is good because I don’t want Wyatt to get a view of a nip slip. From what I understand from talk around the station, he gets to see plenty of bare breasts very regularly. He doesn’t need to see this woman’s too.

“You good?” I ask her.

She nods, blowing her bangs out of her eyes and tossing dark curls over her shoulder. “Holy shit. That was a workout.” She swivels her hips like they’re stiff and she needs to loosen them up.

I’m almost fucking speechless. Is she a burlesque dancer? Because that would not surprise me at all.

She turns. “Blake, do you need help?”

His answer is a grunt.

He clears the floor, her purse in his hand.

“Thank you.” She retrieves it from him before he’s climbed out of the car. “Where’s my phone?”

“In your purse.”

“And my… never mind.” She makes a “whoopsie” face and grins.

He doesn’t grin back. “In my pocket.”

Once he’s out, I gesture for them to move away from the door. “You sure you’re okay?”

“We’re fine.”

I retrieve the ladder and then step back to let Wyatt secure the gate restrictor again.

The sexy woman named Elise goes to the panel on the wall and hits the up button.

“The power is out for all the elevators,” I tell her. “Give us five more minutes and they’ll be back up and running.”

“Where the hell are you going?” the guy named Blake asks her.

“To the party. It’s almost midnight. I desperately need a cocktail.” She says this like it’s obvious.

Clearly it is to her and not to him.

“I’m going home,” he says, wincing a little as he takes a step toward the lobby.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” He stares at her.

She stares at him.

Trying not to inadvertently be involved in their personal business, I busy myself with radioing Matt now that Wyatt has the hoistway door closed again. “All clear. Power can be restored.”

Blake leans over and tucks Elise’s hair behind her ear. “Goodnight, Elise. Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year, Blake.” She doesn’t sound angry, she just sounds a little mystified.

I’m mystified too. I wouldn’t care if she wanted to party all damn night before going home with me. I’d wait out last call and enjoy showing her off on my arm in the process. And what fucking guy leaves his woman to get herself home? On New Year’s Eve, of all nights, when car services and cabs are impossible to get and the train is chock full of drunks?

An asshole, that’s who.

He heads toward the lobby and she untucks the piece of hair he put behind her ear. She adjusts her dress again and gives me a smile. “Champagne for one, then.”

“Big party up there?”

She nods.

“Then enjoy your night. Your boyfriend is missing out on having a gorgeous woman on his arm.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

That’s the best damn thing I’ve heard all night. “No?”

“Not at all.”

“The power is back on,” I tell her.

She pushes the elevator button again. “What about you? Do you have a significant other who is home alone tonight? That must be hard.”

“I’m single.”

Wyatt clears his throat from behind me. I adjust my ball cap. We’re not in full gear, just black pants and T-shirts. If we had needed a full safety crew, they would have come in gear. I know what Wyatt is thinking.

That I should get her number.

He’s right. I should.

“Oh.” She smiles at the news of my single status. “Too bad you’re working. You could be my plus one.”

I pull my phone out of my pocket and swipe it. “Give me your number and maybe we can make that happen another night.” I hold it out to her.

She takes it readily and puts her number in. “What’s your name?”

Right. I’m an opportunist but clearly off my game. “Aidan. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Elise.”

“You, too, Aidan.” She hands my phone back. “Happy New Year.”

The elevator door to her left dings and opens. She eyes it. “When you fall off a horse, get right back on, right?”

Her bravery impresses me, though she does take a deep, bracing breath.

A lanky kid in his early twenties steps off the elevator. “Oh, damn, Elise. There you are. The Racketeers party is lit. Where’s Wilder?”

“He went home.”

That’s when it clicks. Racketeers. Blake Wilder. He’s the pro hockey goalie. I’m not a huge hockey fan, but I know the name from when games are on at the station.

I guess he’s taken one too many hits to the head with a puck to leave this gorgeous woman standing here alone. His loss, my gain.

“Does this mean I get a kiss at midnight?” the young guy asks, hopefully.

She sighs. “Wade, you’re like my little brother. Knock it off.”

I hide a grin. This woman is something else.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He shrugs. He gives me a wave. “Yo, firefighter dude, what’s up?”

“Just saving damsels in elevators.”

“What?” He looks thoroughly confused.

Elise steps onto the elevator, nudging Wade out of the way since he’s blocking the door from closing. She blows me a kiss right as the door glides closed.

I immediately text her.

Let me know when you make it upstairs. This is Aidan.

Then I realize that might freak her out.

I text her again.

Not that I’m concerned the elevator will stop again. It won’t.

I can’t guarantee that, but I don’t want to scare her.

She texts back.

I’m not afraid of that. I’m only afraid of bad hair days and I almost never have those.

I grin.

Good to know. Enjoy your night.

Do I care that she was doing whatever she was doing in the elevator with a professional hockey goalie?

Not in the least.

I’m not afraid of anything either.