Spark & Blaze (A Guns & Hoses Novel) (7 page)

Brett felt more like himself when he walked into the station to start his shift on Thursday. He didn’t realize how much he was looking forward to his work routine until he walked through the door. The typical, regular shift change chaos was in full swing as the last shift headed out and Brett’s shift headed in. Everyone was vying for coffee, but that was normal, too.

Brett said his ‘hellos’ to the last shift guys that were actually ‘goodbyes’ because the guys were heading out. He hadn’t even had the chance to go upstairs and drop his bag before Captain Stevenson called out to him.

“Malone, you and Carmichael are on truck duty.”

Brett stifled a groan. The sound that was threatening to escape his throat was due to a combination of hating truck duty and having to do it with Carmichael.

After his behavior at Guns & Hoses the moment the guy walked up to the pool table, the last thing Brett wanted to do was be forced into working with Carmichael outside of any actual calls they would be responding to during the shift. Brett could admit that he was embarrassed by his behavior when he fled Guns & Hoses, but he wouldn’t let that affect his job.

“Okay, Cap,” Brett replied to Stevenson before he took the stairs up to the bunk room.

He dropped his bag next to the bunk he normally claimed as his own before he returned downstairs to the rec area. In the time he was gone upstairs, the guys from the last shift had taken off and everyone Brett was used to working with was scattered between the kitchen and rec area.

Brett spotted Carmichael, his overnight bag slung over one shoulder, talking with Flame. He approached the rookie and kept his face neutral. Brett wasn’t guarding his expression because of Carmichael. No, he guarded it because of Flame.

He had no idea what Tig would’ve shared with Flame about their conversation in the men’s room of Guns & Hoses when Brett had lost his shit. Thankfully, as Brett approached his co-workers and Flame noticed him, Flame’s expression gave no hint that Tig had shared anything about Brett with him.

“What’s up, Malone?” Flame asked good-naturedly.

“Cap wants me and Carmichael on truck duty.”

“Truck duty?” Carmichael asked and looked confusingly between Brett and Flame.

“Better you guys than me.” Flame laughed and walked off. Before he even took three steps, he looked over his shoulder.

“Austin wants a rematch ASAP. He said Evan scared you off.” Flame laughed again and gave Brett a pointed look before he shot the same gaze at Carmichael. “I’m sure that’s not the case, but the last thing you want is for Austie to think he’s right.”

Flame continued to laugh and turned away to take his overnight bag upstairs. Brett watched Flame’s retreating back and tried to get his suddenly clenched stomach to relax.

Flame was only talking about pool. Austin said that because of whatever Flame told him about Carmichael’s ability to kick ass on the table.
Brett tried to convince himself.

“What’s truck duty?” Evan asked because he had been working for TFD at this station for less than a month and this was the first time he heard anything about truck duty.

“We get to wash the engine and check all the equipment. We also need to pull all the hose out and check the lines,” Brett answered before adding. “Put your bag up because the sooner we get the equipment and hose checks done, the sooner we can get back into the call rotation.”

Evan watched Malone start to walk toward the truck bay door before he thought to ask. “So we can’t respond to any calls while we’re on truck duty?”

Brett stopped just as he was about to push the bay door open and turned back to Carmichael. He had to remind himself that the guy was a rookie before he replied.

“Once the hoses are pulled we can’t respond to calls until they are secured back on the rig.”

“Okay, that makes sense,” Evan replied and met Malone’s gaze. His co-worker looked away and turned back to the bay door. Evan was heading toward the stairs when Malone’s voice called out.

“The sooner you put your shit up and we get started, the sooner we can get in rotation for calls,” Malone repeated as if Evan hadn’t heard him the first time.

Evan looked over his shoulder at Malone, but all he saw of his co-worker was the man’s broad shouldered, muscular back walking out the door to the truck bay. He hurried up the stairs and dropped his overnight bag on a random bunk before hurrying back down and out to the truck bay.

Malone had already pulled the engine from the bay and was pulling hose off the back of the truck. Wordlessly, Evan stepped up next to Malone and started helping pull the hose down from where it lay on top of the engine.

Brett felt Carmichael approach before the guy started helping him pull the hose. He purposely didn’t look at the younger man because he already knew how the TFD T-shirt clung to the guy’s chest like a second skin and how his Navy work pants framed his toned thighs and ass.

It wasn’t until Brett realized he was intentionally not looking at Carmichael that he realized that he knew just how the guy’s uniform fit him so snugly. The fact that Brett even thought about Carmichael and how he looked in his uniform, irritated him the fuck off. He had no business thinking about how attractive his co-worker looked. No business at all. What. So. Ever.

Evan felt the change in Malone after he started pulling the hose. He hadn’t said anything to cause the change he noticed in Malone’s body language. So, he didn’t say anything, but instead continued to pull the hose until all of it was off the truck.

Once the hose was laid flat next to the truck, Brett turned back to Carmichael. They were both already sweating even though it was still before noon.

“So what do we do with the lines now?” Evan asked and Brett tried to ignore the flex of the rookie’s bicep when he raised a forearm to wipe the sweat off his brow.

“We inspect them for any obvious problems,” Brett replied and walked to the beginning of the hose that they had laid out next to the truck. “Look for any tears or separations that might cause a weakness when we plug-in at the next fire. Look for anything that could cause a blowout once they are pressurized with water.”

“Okay,” Evan replied and started inspecting the hose closest to the truck since Malone was starting at the nozzle end.

Silently, they worked. Sometimes running their hands over the line and other times just slowly walking next to the hose. When they met in the middle of the stretched out lines, for some reason Brett noticed the size difference between them.

Carmichael wasn’t small, but Brett topped out at 6’4”. The rookie’s height was perfect for what Brett preferred in his men. Carmichael wasn’t too short to kiss uncomfortably, but instead just tall enough that Brett would only have to bend his head slightly to press his mouth against the man’s plump pink lips.

“I didn’t find anything wrong with the hose,” Carmichael informed and Brett realized he had been staring at the rookie’s mouth. “Now what?”

Brett gave himself a mental shake. He cursed under his breath for getting distracted by how Carmichael’s sweat soaked T-shirt and how plump his kissable lips looked. And how both turned him on.

The tightening in his uniform pants wasn’t totally unexpected since he had already admitted that he found Carmichael attractive. It was however, unwanted and his reply to Carmichael’s innocent question was harsher than it needed to be.

“Now we put the hose back on the truck,” Brett growled out as if it wasn’t obvious.

Evan blinked at the sudden aggression he heard in Malone’s tone. The guy sounded pissed off and for the life of him, Evan couldn’t figure out what he had done or what could have caused the guy to get so worked up.

Whatever,
Evan thought and climbed on top of the truck to lay out the hose.

Brett knew his tone was unwarrantedly harsh when he answered Carmichael. Still, he didn’t apologize to the rookie. Instead, he tried to keep his body under control while they laid the hose where it belonged on top of the truck. Once they were finished, Brett finally looked at Carmichael head on for the first time since his arousal made an appearance. It was a mistake.

His breath caught at the site of the rookie’s light blonde, sweat-soaked hair. Brett was so mesmerized that his gaze didn’t even need to travel below Carmichael’s chin to see how sweat soaked the TFD T-shirt that was surely showing off every curve and divot of the guys chest and abs.

Brett willed his sudden hard-on to go down and was grateful that Carmichael was focused on climbing down from the back of the rig. Several minutes after Carmichael was back on the ground, Brett had his body under control and climbed down.

“Start pulling the equipment out of the truck,” Brett ordered. “We need to inspect it next.”

They each took one side of the rig and removed all the equipment. It didn’t take them long to ensure that none of the equipment was damaged and needed to be replaced.

“So what now?” Evan asked when he met Malone at the back of the rig after they replaced all of the equipment where it belonged in the truck.

“The cleaning supplies are in the cabinet. Grab them and the buckets so we can wash the truck,” Brett ordered.

Evan glanced over at Malone when the man spoke. His co-worker’s tone was so different than the last time Malone spoke, that he paused before heading to get the cleaning supplies. Malone seemed to be purposely avoiding his gaze so Evan didn’t say anything. He couldn’t figure out what the deal was with Malone. The guy’s behavior was all over the place.

However, he didn’t dwell on his co-worker’s mood shifts. He filled the buckets with the cleaning products, water, and tossed a sponge in each before he handed one to Malone. Neither man said anything before they each started on one side of the truck and began to wash the rig.

Brett worked his way down his side of the truck. He scrubbed the engine with the sponge, but by the time he was halfway down the side, he was hot as hell. He gave no thought to pulling his T-shirt over his head and throwing it toward the bay doors.

His breath caught again when he reached the back of the rig and caught sight of Carmichael. Apparently, the rookie had gotten just as overheated as he and shucked his T-shirt as well. The sight of Carmichael’s bare chest covered in sweat that glistened and ran in rivulets made Brett’s cock instantly harden again.

Fuck!
Brett cursed to himself and forced his gaze to look away from Carmichael.

However Brett’s eyes didn’t stay averted for long when Carmichael moved toward the hose to turn it on so they could rinse down the truck. The sight of the rookie bending over to turn on the hose was almost too much for Brett’s painful cock.

Evan stood, hose in hand to rinse down the truck, and looked back to where Malone was standing. The moment his eyes met the older man’s gaze, Malone’s expression changed. Whatever the man have been thinking changed the minute Evan met his eyes.

“Rinse the truck,” Malone growled out harshly before he stormed off toward the door that led into the station.

Once again, Evan was confused by Malone’s behavior. He couldn’t make hide nor hair out of what caused the guy to react the way he did. Still, as he rinsed down the engine, Evan couldn’t stop thinking of all the different behaviors that Malone had displayed. He couldn’t help but wonder if any one of them were who the man genuinely was, either.

Chapter Seven

Bret
t
didn’t pause when he entered the station. Most of the guys were settled around the TV, but he gave them or what they were watching, no thought when he made a beeline for the stairs. He paused long enough to pull his toiletry bag out of his duffel before he hit the shower.

Brett was hard. Painfully hard. So hard that by the time he was stripped and stepping into the shower, his hand was wrapped around his cock. He didn’t feel the hot water that rained down on him while he grasped himself in his fist.

It was wrong, he knew. So, totally fucking wrong that he was hard over seeing Carmichael half naked. Still, wrong or not, Brett couldn’t help gripping himself to seek relief. Relief was exactly what he achieved three strokes later.

Brett panted under the hot spray of the shower and couldn’t stop the feeling of self-disgust that flooded through him. Jerking off at work in the shower was wrong. Jerking off in the shower at work because a co-worker turned him on to that point, was beyond wrong.

Brett finished up his shower and his body felt relieved and relaxed, but his mind was still a jumbled mess and he still had over eighteen hours to go for this shift.

I’ll be fine
, Brett told himself when he left the shower area. That thought, that declaration, died not only in his throat, but in his mind when he walked into the bunk room.

Evan finished rinsing down the engine. He only wanted a shower and to get changed into something less sweaty. He knew Malone had disappeared to do the same while he was rinsing off the truck, but for some reason he never expected to run into the man in the bunk room. Not only run into Malone, but run into Malone wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.

Malone was built. Built like a brick shit house and even Evan, as straight as he was, could appreciate the man’s physique. Surprisingly, Evan found himself actually appreciating the sight of Malone wearing nothing but a towel.

Evan realized he had been staring when Malone paused at seeing him. Why he had been staring at Malone, he had no idea, but there was just something about seeing the water droplets reflecting off his co-worker’s toned chest that had caught his eye.

What the hell.
Evan gave himself a mental shake.

Brett stopped mid-step when he realized Carmichael was in the bunk room. He watched as the rookie looked him over from head to toe. Brett couldn’t read Carmichael’s face, but the pause that filled the air between them was more than just two co-workers passing between the shower and the bunk room.

Still, whatever it was, Brett knew it had nothing to do with the straight rookie thinking anything sexual. Plus, even if Carmichael was looking at him sexually, which was what Brett could swear he saw in the guy’s gaze, his closet door was bolted firmly shut. Plain and simple, but even if it wasn’t, it still wouldn’t matter. Regardless, of the fact that he had just beat off to the guy in the shower.

The silence dragged on and Brett realized he would need to be the one to break the mute standoff between them.

“We can get a call any minute so if you want to shower, you better hurry the hell up,” Brett knew the anger in his tone was because he was pissed at how Carmichael was affecting him. “We won’t wait for your ass if we get called out.”

Once again, Evan didn’t know what to make of Malone’s behavior. He had no idea what he could’ve done to pissed the guy off, but he was getting tired of being Malone’s verbal punching bag.

“What the hell is your problem?”

Evan’s tone matched Malone’s, but he didn’t bother looking at the guy when he walked to his duffel. Malone didn’t reply before Evan grabbed his shower shit and turned back to the man. Evan frowned at Malone’s back while the man zipped up his jumpsuit.

“You know,” Evan began. “I’ve known some assholes, but you take the cake.” Evan was halfway to the showers when Malone finally answered him.

“Fuck you,
rookie
.”

Evan turned on his heel and glared at Malone. He knew he should just ignore the fucker, but dealing with Malone’s fucked up mood swings every shift wasn’t going to fly.

“No, dick head. Fuck you!” Evan huffed. “I fucked up in Ybor and I fucking apologized. Shit, I haven’t fucked up again and did everything you fucking asked me to on truck duty so...”

Brett interrupted Carmichael’s tirade. “Look, you little shit, you didn’t do shit other than your fucking job on the truck duty. So, if you expect a fucking pat on the back, don’t hold your breath.”

“A pat on the back? Are you shitting me, asshole? Whatever your fucking problem with me is...”

“Jesus Christ!” Flame’s voice yelled just as loud as Carmichael’s and Malone’s. “The whole fucking station house can hear you two assholes up here.”

Flame wasn’t alone in the door to the bunk room. Brostowski stood next to him. Two things were immediately clear to Malone and Carmichael. Both men appeared to be almost as pissed off as they were and they were
both
up here in case Malone and Carmichael decided to have a punch up.

“Whatever the fuck is the problem between the two of you,” Flame continued and glared at Malone. “Keep it the fuck out of the station.”

Malone returned Flame’s glare. Whether his co-worker’s boyfriend outed him or not, Flame had some damn big balls preaching about keeping problems out of work. When the shit went down last year between him and Brostowski, the tension in the firehouse was thick enough to cut with a knife. Granted, they never ended up screaming at one another like he and Carmichael seem to keep doing, but still.

“Get your shower, rookie,” Flame ordered Carmichael. “You,” Flame glared at Malone again. “With us.”

Brett wanted to tell Flame to fuck off, but he knew that would only cause more shit around the station. It was bad enough that he kept lashing out at Carmichael because he was pissed at how the guy’s mere presence made him feel. He didn’t need to stir up shit with Flame and, by extension, Brostowski.

So, Brett decided to follow his co-workers down the stairs and out to the truck bay. He also decided that the better part of valor would be to keep his fucking trap shut no matter what they said during the verbal ass kicking he was sure they were going to lay on him.

“What the hell is your issue with the rookie?” Flame asked, but the heat in his voice from ten minutes earlier was gone.

Brett suspected, based on Flame’s question, that Tig hadn’t outed him. Just the thought that his closet door was still safely closed, allowed the tension that he wasn’t aware he carried in his shoulders to dissipate.

“I just don’t like him, alright?” Brett finally answered when the silence stretched and the intense looks from Flame and Brostowski didn’t let up.

Flame and Brostowski shared a glance during a long pause before looking back to Brett. Whatever the look that passed between the best friends was about, Brett didn’t know and really didn’t care about.

“Look,” Brostowski started. “You can dislike the kid all you want, but you have to be able to work with him.”

Flame picked up where Brostowski left off. They did that shit all the time. They seem to finish each other’s sentences or thoughts and it was unnerving as hell.

“We need to be able to have each other’s backs.”

“Trust
we
have each other’s backs,” Brostowski finished.

“We never know which one of us will be paired with the rookie,” Flame added. “Tension between any of us only makes our job more dangerous.”

“You think I don’t know that shit?” Brett couldn’t stop his anger from rising toward his co-workers who were just trying to help. “I know what it’s like to work under a fucking blanket of tension. I was here last year when the two of you practically smothered us with it.”

Brostowski had the decency to wince and look away. Flame, however, just continued to stare at him. Brett felt like he was under a microscope and fought not to fidget. Silence stretched between them again while Flame continued to study him. He was about to speak when Flame beat him to the punch.

“Is that what’s going on here?” Flame raised a brow and his voice was full of curiosity. “You attracted to the rookie?” Flame lowered his voice before he asked and his question was laced with sincerity.

“What?” Brett felt himself pale and felt cold sweat breakout all over his body as he practically stumbled back from his co-workers. “No!”

Flame and Brostowski shared another one of the looks that made Brett think they could speak telepathically. Both men turned back to look at him and their gazes were too full of understanding and concern for Brett’s liking.

“No, I’m not attracted to him,” Brett hissed lowly. “I’m not into guys.”

Brett hoped they bought the load of shit he was selling and knew that if the men before him were any two of his straight co-workers, he would walk away as if severely insulted. However, if he did that to Flame and Brostowski, he knew they would interpret his storming off for what it really was. Fleeing.

“Alright,” Flame replied, but Brett had the distinct feeling that the man didn’t totally believe him.

There wasn’t shit he could do about whatever Flame believed. Aside from praying that Tig kept his trap shut or he suddenly found a beard to pass off as a girlfriend. The first he had no problem doing since he was raised Catholic after all.

The second, nope, never going to happen. He had too much respect for women to use them that way even if they were willing. He also had too much respect for himself, closet non-withstanding, to pass off the lie more than the words that passed his lips already had.

“Well, whatever gets you so fired up over the rookie,” Flame started.

Brett had to resist a groan at the images from earlier on truck duty that had gotten him so fired up. Fired up enough to beat the fuck off in the station’s shower.

“You need to squash that shit,” Flame finished. Brett tuned back to Flame. “He fucked up on that fire down in Ybor, but he hasn’t fucked up again. If anything, the kid is busting his balls to prove something like that won’t happen again.”

“I get it, alright?” Brett forced himself to say neutrally.

“Good, because if the rookie is run off or moved to another shift, we’ll be a man down. Try to remember that, okay?”

Brett gave Flame a nod and the man turned to go back into the station. He expected Brostowski to immediately follow his best friend back inside. Instead, Flame disappeared inside while Brostowski continued to stare at him. It took every ounce of willpower Brett possessed not to fidget or look away from his smaller co-worker.

“What?” Brett finally asked because the combination of Brostowski’s silence and stare was pushing him to the breaking point.

“We were all rookies at one point, Malone. Try to remember that.” Brostowski turned to head inside.

Brett almost let out a sigh of relief that he dodged some sort of invisible bullet that would have killed him through his closet door. The sigh hitched in his throat when Brostowski paused at the door, looked over his shoulder, and met Brett’s gaze before he spoke.

“Some of us have been where you are. You’ll figure the shit out, but while you do, don’t take it out on the kid. It’s not fair to you, him, or the rest of us.”

By the time Brostowski disappeared into the station, Brett was once more covered in cold sweat. His heart rate began to spike and he knew he was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack. He forced himself to sit on a bench under where his bunker gear waited to be worn for another call. He also forced himself to lean forward, forearms on his knees, and he lowered his head as far as he could without actually putting his head between his knees.

I’m fine. No one knows. I’m fine. No one knows
, Brett repeated over and over until he felt his breathing and heart rate begin to settle.

As the panic over the thought of being outed receded and he slowly regained control of his body, one thought bombarded him.

None of this shit would be happening if it weren’t for Carmichael.

It was that thought that made his anger flare again and Brett would take anger over panic any day.

Evan finished his shower and dressed quickly in his TFD jumpsuit that he had yet to wear. The whole time he couldn’t stop thinking about Malone. The guy’s behavior bounced between severe anger issues to just plain odd.