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Authors: M.S. Willis

Fireman Edition (6 page)

BOOK: Fireman Edition
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“Yes you do,” I argued, “The wheelchair sink.”

Both men looked at me with what I guess could have been confusion, but at that moment, I mistook it for contempt.

“Okay, fine! I used the stall for people with disabilities! Sue me! I know it’s wrong, but I like the space. It’s big and I’m big, so it works.”

“That’s not the problem, ma’am, and with your mental….
peculiarities
…you might be qualified to use that particular stall…”

Asshole!

“However, as owner of this establishment, I can guarantee you, there is no sink in that stall.”

Throwing my hands up, I’d had enough of the lies. “Let’s go take a look. I guarantee you, there is a sink in that stall.”

Squishing my way to the large stall, I waited for Mark and the owner to file in behind me.

“There.” I pointed to the sink that, according to the owner, did not exist. “See? You do have a sink in the stall and it splashed me when I wanted to wash my hands. I’m glad we now have this all cleared up.”

The owner’s jaw dropped when I turned to look at him, and Mark’s face was an odd shade of purple.

“What? Are you both shocked silent by the fact that I was right? Why is your face that funny color?”

The owner coughed in an attempt to hide his laughter. With a disgusted tone, he asked, “Is that the
sink
that you’ve been referring to all this time, ma’am? Because, if so, there is nothing wrong with the plumbing.”

Mark stepped forward, grabbing my arm and pulling me close to him in order to soften the blow.

“It is a sink. Isn’t it?” I asked. “I mean, it’s funny looking, but it’s got handles just like any other sink.”

Examining it again, I tried to think why both men were both now chortling and spitting in their attempt to keep from laughing out loud.

“What the hell is so funny?” I demanded.

Mark tried to tell me, but every time he opened his mouth, he laughed. “Please tell me you didn’t wash your hands in that. Please!” Through his laughter, he finally got his sentence out.

“Well, of course I washed my hands there. It would be disgusting if I didn’t wash my hands after going to the bathroom. I even took a drink from it. Why?”

They both started laughing harder, tears dripping from their eyes as they held their stomachs.

Once they’d calmed themselves, the owner looked me dead in the eye and said, “Ma’am, that is not a sink. It is a bidet. It is not designed for someone to use to wash their hands.”

I looked at it again. “Then what are you supposed to do with it?”

Mark leaned over to whisper in my ear and my eyes opened wide as my stomach threatened to spill out its contents.

“You wash WHAT? Are you kidding me?”

The owner shook his head. “I’m very sorry, ma’am. But that particular device is intended to wash your nether regions. Now if you two don’t mind, I need to close my restaurant. I’d like you both to leave.”

 

Chapter Seven

“Stop laughing, Mark. I had no idea you were supposed to wash your…you know…on that. They should have had a sign or something.”

Still spitting as we walked down the sidewalk, I stepped on a stone and bounced around when it pressed into my heel. “Damn it!”

Mark looked over at me and snorted. “We can go back and get your shoes…”

“No!” I interrupted. “There is no way in hell I’m walking back into that restaurant and facing that man again. I can’t believe he went out into the dining room and announced that customers were not permitted to drink from the bidet. What a jerk.”

Still drunk out of his mind, Mark was practically crying to remember the look everybody gave me when the owner made his announcement.

I felt like a complete idiot. “Can we stop for a toothbrush? I feel an intense need to clean my mouth. In fact, let’s pick up some rubbing alcohol, too. Maybe some bleach. I want to gargle with it.”

His face was turning to an unhealthy shade of blue.

“Go ahead. Let it out. I know…I’m a riot.”

Through deep belly laughter, he cried, “You don’t need anymore alcohol. You’ve had enough.”

I stood staring at him, waiting patiently for him to stop laughing. A minute passed, and another…and then another.

“You got that all out yet? I don’t think the people in New Jersey heard you.”

“I’m sorry.” Tears streamed down his red cheeks. “I’ve just never met somebody like you.” He sounded like he’d just run a marathon and was trying to give his winner’s speech while still wheezing.

Finally, catching his breath, he stood up and wrapped his arms around my waist, yanking me towards him. Looking up, I melted at the sight of his beautiful green eyes, the messy hair framing his face, backlit by the full moon.

Good lord, he was beautiful and the scene behind him was something you’d read about in a romance novel.

Well, at least they got that part right.

We stared at each other for a few seconds, his shadowed cheeks dotted by the dimples indenting the skin. “I’m going to kiss you, Jane.”

Leaning down, he closed his eyes and I sucked in a breath waiting for a kiss from one of the most gorgeous men I’d ever had the opportunity to know.

But then I remembered the bidet.

“Hold it there, Mark.” My hand went up to cover his mouth, halting the kiss and breaking my heart all at the same time.

His eyes widened and he pulled away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to move too fast. I thought..”

“No. It’s fine.” I interrupted. “Seriously. I’d jump you right now if I could, but…” Motioning to my face with my hand, I frowned. “Toilet breath. I don’t want our first kiss sullied by the memory of what’s swimming around in my mouth.”

He chuckled and tucked a stray hair behind my ear.

“Okay. Let’s get you to a drugstore and buy a toothbrush. But after that, there’s no way you can stop me from kissing you. Understand?”

“You bet.” I smiled.

He took my hand and we walked down the sidewalk, looking like two normal people on a date – one without shoes – perfectly happy in the company of someone we could one day love.

Just as my heart had returned to a normal rhythm, and the warmth of finding a man who might just be like the romance books say they are, he spoke and ruined everything.

“Oh hey, Jane? Do me a favor. When you brush your teeth inside the drug store? Be sure to use the actual sink this time. I’d hate for you to get confused if there’s a mop bucket or something in the room.”

 

. . .

 

After brushing my teeth – without incident, I might add – and leaving the store, Mark and I decided it was time to go to the firehouse. He was going to show me around the station and then possibly reconsider his refusal to have fire truck sex.

Yes, this was moving fast, but it wasn’t like I had my virginity – or my integrity, for that matter – to protect any longer.

Mark was a nice guy, and regardless of the unusual way that we’d met and spent the evening, he was the type of person that I would consider sleeping with. I didn’t see the problem with rushing this particular task because, number one, I wanted it and number two, so did he.

Perfect plan.

It’s like we were made for each other.

“I can’t wait to see the inside of the station. Do I get to slide down the pole?”

His eyebrow cocked over that perfect green eye. “Although, I’m sure the sight would be enjoyable, unfortunately, we don’t have a fire pole.”

No fire pole. Damn. I was hoping to imitate the scene where Mina did a seductive stripper performance in
Flirting with a Fireman
.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to make do with something else. What kind of other fun parts does the station have?”

“I thought we were doing fire truck sex.”

We both stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk, one that had shifted so bad it rose up just enough to catch the toe. Mark caught himself and was unfazed by the small trip.

I, on the other hand, was bouncing around once again, muttering obscenities and cradling my stubbed appendage.

“We should have picked you up some flip flops while we were in the store.”

“Don’t think that would have helped, Mark, but good effort.”

Finally approaching the fire station, I looked up in awe at the glass windows that spread across the four large and intimidating garage doors. “Wow. It looks like the real thing.”

“Uh…” He stammered. “Probably because it is?”

I glanced at him and back to the fire station, “Well, yeah, but I meant it looks like the one described in the book. I can’t wait to see what’s inside.”

Laughing, he placed his hand on the small of my back. “I can’t wait for the guys to meet you. You’re entertaining. Let’s go through the back door.”

Falling into step, I trailed behind him on a small cement path. “I’d love to help you out, but I’m not that type of girl.”

I was joking…I knew what he meant.

Sadly, he actually believed I was serious. Turning to me, he said, “Jane, I’m not a rough guy or anything. If you’re worried about that, we could always reschedule fire truck sex.”

He was cute and what he said made my heart leap a little. He was going to do it. This was the first time he’d confirmed that I was getting some on the truck.

Score!

“I was kidding, Mark. I know you meant using the back door to enter the building. Not to enter my…”

His lips were on mine before I could say the last word. Soft and slow, he kissed me, moving his mouth against mine and only peeking his tongue out a little bit to touch my lip.

Every muscle in my body loosened, my heart skipping frantically against my chest, my mind spinning from the mix of euphoria from the kiss and the numbing tingle of the alcohol in my blood.

I’d be a liar if I ever tried to claim the man couldn’t kiss. He was so rhythmic and sensual; it was like he was making lazy love to my face. His tongue peeked out again, the hint of cinnamon still there from when we’d had shots at the restaurant. My lips parted and I tasted him, my knees going weak and my body held up by the strength of the arm he’d wrapped around me.

Pulling away, he looked at me with eyes barely focused. I knew it was the alcohol that gave him that look, but for a moment, I liked to believe it was also because of the kiss.

Smiling and wrapping an arm around his waist, I asked, “So how many men are going to be here that I need to meet?”

“Around fifteen, most likely.”

I nodded. “And how long do you think it will take for you to introduce me to all of them?”

Flashing me an odd grin, he answered, “I don’t know. About thirty minutes?”

I smiled and grabbed his butt. “Let’s try to shorten that to fifteen. I really want to see your truck.”

 

Chapter Eight

Billy, Bobby, John, Joe, Harry, Henry… Oh hell, I couldn’t remember all of their names, but they were nice guys. Each one offered me a friendly smile and a strong handshake.

I’d walked into the station thinking I was about to stumble into the middle of a hot fireman calendar. I was dreaming of gazing at the merchandise and then working out my frustrations with the dream of a man I had walking by my side.

However, my enthusiasm for the inadvertent Chippendale’s show was quickly doused with cold water when I saw the inside of the common room. Men were scattered about; some lounging on the sofa without shirts on, while others lingered in the adjacent kitchen.

Rather than abs of steel and that little dippy ‘V’ that all hot men had in their abdomen, I was confronted with beer bellies and double chins, balding heads and hairy backs. It wouldn’t be fair to say that about all the men, but the majority didn’t look anything like the men described in the Fireman book.

The room itself had a lot to be desired and it appeared more like a college frat than I imagined it would. Dirty shirts were tossed here and there, the countertops covered by wrappers and remnants of snacks and fast food. There was a distinct smell in the air that I had the sneaking suspicion was sweaty shoes and feet.

We made our introductions rather quickly as the men catcalled and jived Mark for having a woman at the station.

“Sweetheart. Where are your shoes?” One of the men asked.

Mark answered for me. “Don’t ask.”

The men gave me funny looks, but laughed it off without another question.

“Go ahead and show her the engines, Mark. Just make sure you stick to engine four. If there’s an emergency, we’d hate to take off with the two of you on top.” Billy winked – or was it Bobby? It didn’t matter. He winked and I took that as a cue that we had the go ahead for the best part of
Flirting with a Fireman
.

Weaving our way back to the garage, Mark let me through the door and flicked on a light so bright it flashed brilliantly off the chrome on the trucks.

“Wow. They’re big.”

I’m not sure what I expected, but what I got was a little disappointing. Instead of clean garage floors and shiny fire trucks that were freshly washed by shirtless and ripped men, I was looking at something that closely resembled the floor of my elderly mechanic’s garage. Grease stains, random bits, pieces and parts thrown haphazardly in buckets, and permeating the air was the faint scene of gasoline, motor oil and turpentine. I half expected Mr. Carter to come limping out from behind one of the trucks in his shirtless, overall look with white chest and armpit hair blowing in the wind as he told me that I have a problem with my doohickey that is rubbing up against my thingamajig.

“This is…nice?” I offered the compliment, the tone in my voice making it obvious that I didn’t believe a damn word I’d spoken.

Rubbing at the back of his neck, he smiled and shrugged. “Yeah. It’s why I’ve never understood the fire truck fantasy. It’s basically the same thing as having sex inside any normal garage. Dirty, stinky, not much to look at; but if that’s something on your romance novel bucket list, then…”

Reaching out with the quickness of a snake, he bent me backwards, kissing me in the same manner you see on the cover of harlequin novels. His mouth played over mine, the skill of his tongue setting my heart to a frantic beat and stealing the breath from my lungs.

BOOK: Fireman Edition
7.15Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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