Her Cocky Firefighters Read online

  I grimace. “Eric Hardy persuaded the town council that no new spending decisions should be made until after the election. Or so I hear .”

  My best friend shakes his head. “Elvira better win the election,” he remarks. “Hardy will be a disaster as mayor .”

  “Tell me about it.” I take a sip of the top-flight Laphroaig and sigh appreciatively. Nick’s pouring the good stuff tonight. “How were the groupies today?” I tease. “I was afraid I’d run into the stragglers .”

  Nick winces at the mention of the half-dozen women that hang around the Randy Goat, flirting with him and hoping he’ll take one of them to bed. “Thank heavens it’s over .”

  “Admit it,” I needle him. “You like quiet nights. You’re bored of the mindless hookups. You’re not in your twenties anymore, and you’re ready to meet someone special .”

  “What is this, a Nicholas Sparks novel?” Nick rolls his eyes. “Sean, buddy. If you want to find some chick to settle down with, knock yourself out. My life is fucking awesome .”

  Right now, there are three main topics of gossip in town .

  The upcoming mayoral election .

  The Great Banana Bread Bake-Off, the hotly-fought annual contest between Marla Guthrie and Betty Beaumont .

  Last but not the least, Nick’s dry spell. There’s never any shortage of women throwing themselves at him, but according to the town busybodies, Nick goes home alone, night after night .

  Which is why I’m unconvinced by his protest. “If you say so .”

  Nick changes the topic back to the fire station. “I thought town council already approved the budget increase,” he says. “You need to call Hardy out on his bullshit, buddy .”

  My dad was the town drunk. Every evening, without fail, he lost his temper and got into a fight with someone. Not me. I’m determined not to let his legacy define me. “It’s just three months. We’ll make it work. I don’t want to get into a battle with Eric Hardy, not if there’s any chance he’ll win this election .”

  As the chief of the fire station, I have to stay neutral, but Nick has no such restriction, and he’s part of Elvira Grantham’s campaign team. “I don’t understand why Eric Hardy’s even in the running,” he says, his voice frustrated. “Elvira has been the mayor for the last eight years, and she’s done a fantastic job. Tourism is up. Everyone’s making more money. ‘Embrace Your Weird’ was a fucking brilliant slogan. Hardy is a failed businessman with three bankruptcies to his name .”

  A couple sitting at a back table get to their feet and stumble out, giggling like teenagers. I watch them go. “Isn’t that Lettie and Michael Herman?” I ask Nick when they’re gone. “They appear to be getting along well .”

  Nick nods. “Isn’t love grand?” he asks dryly. “No matter what Lettie does, Michael still dotes on her.” His lips twist. “I don’t know if I should sneer at him for being a fool, or admire him for putting his heart on the line .”

  There’d been a woman, six years ago… Nick had been there too, one of our rare threesomes. Hailey Martell .

  It’d been a one-night stand, and I’d told myself that that’s all it could have ever been. Hailey lived in Portland; we didn’t. It would have been impractical to expect anything meaningful from a bar hookup. It would have been foolish to put my heart on the line, to tell her I wanted to see her again, to tell her I wasn’t ready for her to walk out of my life .

  “The latter.” I take another slow sip of the Scotch, but this time, the beverage tastes like regret as it slides a fiery path down my throat .

  Nick’s not paying attention; he’s looking at the empty bar. “That’s everyone,” he announces. “Might as well shut this place down for the night .”

  “Are you kicking me out ?”

  He chuckles. “Not at all. You can help me clean up.” He tops off my glass. “Think of it as payment for the scotch .”

  “The scotch I didn’t order ?”

  Nick ignores my token protest, lifting his head as the front door opens. “We’re clo…” he starts to say, but his voice trails off .

  I look up, following his gaze, and I see the woman who’d been in my thoughts less than three minutes ago. For an instant, I wonder if she’s a figment of my imagination, but then she moves forward, an answering shock on her face .

  “Hailey ?”

  3

  Hailey:

  Six years ago …

  T wo weeks ago, my fiancé broke up with me, because he wanted to marry my best friend slash maid-of-honor instead .

  Today should have been my wedding day. Instead, I’m in my favorite drinking spot, The Oarhouse. Though it’s Saturday night and the place is a zoo, I’ve got a spot at the bar and the entire night ahead of me. I’m prepared to get completely, blindingly drunk .

  The bartender, Audrey, puts a shot of vodka in front of me, a sympathetic expression on her face. “Keep them coming,” I advise. “Don’t stop until I fall off this stool .”

  She frowns. “Matt’s a doucheweasel,” she says frankly, “and the kindest thing that I can call Skylar is twatwaffle. But Hailey, getting wasted is not the answer .”

  Is this the time for AA lectures, I ask you? I pick up the shot glass and tip it down my throat. It burns all the way down to my gut. My eyes water, but I blink the tears away. I’m not going to cry. The two of them don’t deserve it .

  Audrey shakes her head and moves away to a flannel-wearing hipster holding a twenty in his hand. I go back to being miserable. For long minutes, I’m lost in my thoughts. How could I have not seen it? Did everyone know? God, I feel like such a fool .

  Never again .

  The door opens, and two men enter the bar, settling on the last two vacant barstools in the Oarhouse, immediately to the right of me. I glance up, not out of curiosity, but because Audrey’s nowhere in sight and I need a refill, but my gaze happens to fall on the guys who’ve just walked in, and holy tamale !

  Hot. Really hot. Tall, sculpted male perfection. Both of them .

  So much irony .

  Any other day, I’d be thanking the universe for the gift of eye candy. Not today. Right now, the only thing I’m interested in is that bottle of Stoli sitting on a shelf behind the counter .

  Audrey bustles up and hugs one of the guys. “About time you ventured into the city, Nick,” she scolds him. “I haven’t seen you in two years. You want a pint ?”

  “Please.” Nick has a nice voice. Smooth, deep. It’s a sexy voice. Of course, Nick’s probably an asshole. “You remember Sean, don’t you?” he asks .

  “Of course.” She sets two pints of the house draft beer in front of them and then pours me another shot, one I down instantly. Audrey looks exasperated. “Geez, slow it down, will you? Order some food, Hailey, or I’m going to have to cut you off .”

  Fair enough. “Fries .”

  She punches the order into her computer. The guy sitting next to me—Nick—turns in his seat. “ Bad day ?”

  Not in a conversational mood, buddy. “You have no idea,” I answer shortly .

  His lips curl up. “It helps to talk about it .”

  I lift my head up to glare at him, and the full force of his smile hits me. It should be against the law to be this good-looking. The stubble on his face shines golden under the sheen of the bar lights. His deep blue eyes are crinkled with warm concern, and for an instant—for one crazy instant—I’m tempted to tell him everything .

  “How do you know?” I’m being rude, and I don’t care. “Are you a shrink ?”

  He chuckles, undeterred by my surly tone. “I’m a bartender,” he replies easily. “Almost the same thing. I’m Nick O’Sullivan .”

  “Hailey,” I answer grudgingly .

  The other guy leans forward. “I’m Sean Keefer.” His grey eyes run over me. “I’d offer to buy you a drink, but under the circumstances …”

  “I should probably wait for my fries .”

  “Of course.” Got to give him credit; he doesn’t pout. He takes a drink of his beer,
his shoulders relaxed. There’s a game of college football on the screen in front of us, and the quarterback gets sacked. The men’s attention shifts away from me, and they both wince. Sean says something to Nick about rookie players, Nick replies, and I return to my zone of misery .

  Only for five minutes. Audrey sets my food in front of me. “Eat,” she orders .

  I dig into the basket of deep-fried goodness. For months, I’ve been starving myself to fit into my stupid wedding dress. No carbs, no sugar, no fried food, no soda. Now that that’s over, I can eat like a real person again .

  Nick looks amused. “Ready to talk yet ?”

  “Nope.” I look back and forth from the two men. “Unless you want to talk about why McPherson started Toulson instead of Giardino .”

  Sean’s eyes widen. “A college football fan? That’s a surprise .”

  Normally, a statement like that will set off my feminist hackles, but I can’t seem to summon up the energy. I content myself with a muttered “ Sexist much ?”

  Sean inclines his head. “You’re right,” he concedes. “That was sexist. So, Hailey, you think Giardino should start ?”

  The quarterback on the screen has just thrown a pick. “Can it hurt?” I ask pointedly as the two men wince .

  I’m not really sure how, but we fall into conversation. Sean tells me he’s a firefighter, and I resist the urge to make a joke about the size of his hose. I also find out they’re not from Portland. The two of them are in town for Sean’s sister’s wedding. “We’re also catching up on training while we’re here,” Nick adds .

  The smile vanishes off my face at the mention of weddings. Where is Audrey? I need more Stoli, stat . “What kind of training?” I ask to take my mind off Matt and Skylar .

  “Technology advances in firefighting,” Sean replies .

  “Both of you? I thought Nick was a bartender .”

  Nick grins. “And a volunteer firefighter .”

  Holy smokes, they’re both firefighters. A dozen pick-up lines run through my head. Can I hit your hydrant? Do firemen really have the longest hoses? Can I slide down your pole ?

  Get your head out of the gutter, Hailey .

  “What about you, Hailey?” Nick continues. “What do you do ?”

  “I’m the editor of a magazine called Girl Power.” I give them a challenging look. “A feminist magazine .”

  The three words guys are terrified of ?

  Marriage .

  Commitment .

  Feminism .

  Not necessarily in that order .

  If I’m expecting them to inch away, they’re too smooth to be obvious about it. “You made a face when I mentioned Kathleen’s wedding,” Sean comments, his eyebrows raised. “Is that against the feminist rules ?”

  I open my mouth to hotly point out that he’s being a sexist asshole again, but then I see his grey eyes twinkling with amusement. My insides do a funny little twitch. Sean’s baiting me, and I’m falling for it. “Not everyone is searching for love.” My glass is empty, and Audrey is on the far end of the bar. I ate a fry, damn it. It’s time for another drink .

  Nick’s blue eyes rest on me thoughtfully. “What are you searching for ?”

  “Tonight? Distraction .”

  “In a bottle of vodka ?”

  “It’s as good a place as any,” I retort. “Do you have a better idea ?”

  They don’t reply right away. The air changes. The silence stretches between us, thick and pregnant with possibility. A frisson of excitement dances down my spine, the feeling shocking after two weeks of numb indifference .

  Finally, Sean replies. “My hotel is around the corner .”

  Bad idea. Really bad idea. “You think I should sleep with one of you.” I shake my head. “The vodka is a safer alternative .”

  “One of us,” Nick says, never taking his eyes off me. “ Or both .”

  Goosebumps erupt on my skin, a visible expression of the sudden anticipation that courses through my blood. I swallow hard, tempted beyond belief. They’re not from Portland. Would a mindless one-night stand be the worst thing that I could do right now ?

  “Both?” I take a deep breath. “That seems like twice the amount of work .”

  “What a pessimist you are, Hailey,” Sean says. “What if it’s twice the pleasure?” He pulls his wallet from his pocket and places a black card in front of me. “Room 421 at the Monaco .”

  “Audrey is my cousin,” Nick adds. “She’ll vouch for us .”

  I catch a glimpse of the time. Right now, Matt and I should have been making our way to the dance floor, ready to have the first, ceremonial dance as husband and wife. My chest hurts with the enormity of my loss .

  Fuck it. My fingers close over the room key .

  * * *

  Present day …

  H ow many times have I laid awake at night, remembering them, masturbating to those memories ?

  At the start, almost all the time. When depression took hold of me, I used the images from my night with Nick and Sean to bring me back. When things got bad, I would remember the heat in their eyes as they looked at me, the aching in my core as they touched me. I would remember the way I felt when Sean parted my legs and tasted me. I would remember Nick’s groan of need as I took his cock in my mouth, the slight pinprick of pain as he wound his fingers into my hair and wordlessly tugged me closer …

  Fate’s a cruel bitch. It was a one-night stand. What are the odds that I’d ever run into Nick and Sean again ?

  And yet, here they are .

  4

  Nick:

  S ean, buddy. If you want to find some chick to settle down with, knock yourself out. My life is fucking awesome .

  Don’t get me wrong, my life is awesome. I bought the Randy Goat seven years ago from Chip Landy when the older man decided to retire. Since then, I’ve renovated the bar, added in a full menu and brought in craft beers instead of mass- market crap .

  In the early days, I had to work seven days a week to make ends meet, tending bar and moonlighting as the town handyman. But as a result of the improvements I’ve made, business is booming. I have employees now. Valeria Rivas and Kash Huber work in the kitchen, and Petra Cooley and Dex Donovan tend bar on the days when I’m not here .

  And my personal life? One of the advantages of being a bartender: there are always women hanging around at the bar looking to go home with someone for a night of sweaty sex and nothing more .

  Despite what Sean thinks, I’m not looking for anything serious. My parents cheated on each other multiple times through their twenty-year marriage. I’ve witnessed the hurt and the heartbreak first-hand, and I have no desire to inflict that on anyone I care about. The O’Sullivans are not cut out for monogamy. It’s a lot simpler to keep things casual .

  So yeah. Life’s pretty fucking good .

  Except for the matter of the dry spell .

  It’s been almost six months since I’ve taken someone to my bed. There’s no shortage of offers, but I just haven’t been interested. Tonight, I found myself watching Lettie and Michael Herman almost wistfully. Lettie had smiled up at her husband, stars in her eyes, and for a second, I’d wondered how it would feel to have someone look at me the same way .

  Of course, Lettie cheated on Michael last year. The cynic in me—the one who’s seen all of this play out again and again—knows that this is just their honeymoon period. In six months, she’ll cheat on him again, or he’ll cheat on her. They’ll get into a massive fight. Then they’ll make up, and the cycle will start all over. Falling in love sounds good, but the reality never lives up to the dream .

  Then Hailey Martell walks into the Randy Goat, and the memories of the twelve hours I spent with her come flooding back .

  All of a sudden, the boredom lifts, and life becomes interesting again .

  5

  Hailey:

  P art of me wants to turn around and run away, but I force myself to move forward and take a seat next to Sean. “Of all the bars in the world�
��” I quip .

  Nick finishes my sentence. “You walk into mine…” His lips quirk into a crooked grin. “This is one hell of a happy coincidence, Hailey. What brings you here ?”

  “I’m going to write for the Weekly Goat .”

  “Ah, you’re Connor’s new reporter.” Sean smiles warmly. “Lana’s friend .”

  I chuckle ruefully. “Lana warned me about the gossip mill,” I murmur. “I’ve been a city girl my entire life. It’s going to take me a while to get used to everyone knowing everything about my life .”

  Nick tops up Sean’s drink and his own with a bottle of high-end Scotch. “Connor Perkins is my great-uncle,” he explains. “Welcome to Goat, Hailey.” He tips the booze down his throat. “Can I get you a drink? Vodka or would you prefer something else ?”

  I was drinking vodka that night. Nick remembers .

  Of course he remembers, you idiot. He’s a bartender. It’s what they do. Stop reading anything into it .

  “I better not, I’m driving. Could I get a half-pint of beer ?”

  “Lager, IPA, or stout ?”

  “IPA, please .”

  Nick pours my beer. Sean turns to me. “Catch me up with what’s going on in your life, Hailey,” he says. “The last time we talked, you ran a magazine. Girl Power, right ?”

  “I still am,” I reply. “We’re online-only, and subscriber numbers are dropping every day, but it’s still going. For the moment, at least .”

  Sean’s grey eyes gleam with amusement. “Articles about threesomes not enough to keep the subscribers coming back?” he says teasingly .

  I flush deeply. I’d almost forgotten about that damn article. Shortly after my night with Sean and Nick, I’d poured my soul out in a column. Not to increase subscriber numbers, but because writing about those events had been my first step in picking up the pieces of my shattered life .

  Of course, I hadn’t counted on Sean reading the article. I’d changed their names, of course, and disguised the events as best as I could, but still, he has a right to be offended. “You read it ?”