Page 4 of Saving You

RIDGE

“Any chancethis guy will be hot?”

Anthony looked over at Ridge and lifted a brow. “Are you asking if the guy whose shop is on fire is going to be hot?”

“Yes. I realize that makes me a moral monster,” Ridge admitted, clinging to the oh-shit grip as Brandon took a hard right. “But I can’t help it, okay? My date last week has me looking at fucking nunneries.”

“Men don’t go to nunneries, and I’m pretty sure you have to be a devout Catholic to become a monk,” Anthony pointed out. “There’s no way you’d qualify with how much you like to suck dick.”

The truck began to slow to a crawl, and Ridge peered through the windshield to see if it was traffic or if they were nearly there. It looked like both.

“After that date, I’m willing to change religions and swear off lusting after penises, I swear to God,” Ridge said solemnly as he grabbed his helmet and mask.

Anthony sighed, unbuckling his seat belt. “It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“Trust me.” Ridge pulled his mask over his face. “Whatever you think it was, it was worse.”

The conversation stopped there. Brandon and Jada went ahead of them, first in the building, as he and Anthony began to unwind the hose. The fire had died down quite a bit, which likely meant it hadn’t spread from the laundry over to the bookshop next door. All the same, he got the water going, and it wasn’t long before his concentration was solely on making sure all the flames were out and everyone was safe.

The laundry only had two employees working—a married couple who were probably very attractive forty years ago. And for their age, they looked amazing. But he was pretty sure they weren’t looking for some thirty-five-year-old sugar baby with a kid and a mountain of debt he was still trying to get ahead on.

Which was a shame. It sounded kind of nice to be taken care of. Though in reality, Ridge liked to be the caregiver, which was why he ended up on weird, shitty dates.

The cops arrived to take statements after, and Ridge pulled off his mask and helmet once Brandon gave him the all clear. He peered through the door, and his heart sank. The fire had stayed contained, but it was obvious the place was going to be a total loss.

Luckily, that wasn’t as common these days, and the last time he’d seen one as bad as this had been at his boss’s house four years back. Of course, that one hit close to home, considering Adele’s son and his fiancé had been in the house at the time, and no one had been sure they were safe until they arrived on scene.

Ridge hadn’t been there for that fire though. He’d been at the station doing the calendar shoot, which ended up going to help Adele modify his rebuild so Kash could comfortably navigate his space in a wheelchair when he needed it.

But the feeling of it was still fresh on days like this. He took a deep breath and shoved away the thoughts of Adele’s face when he learned his house had gone up in flames, and he focused on making sure the fire was completely out.

“So. The date?” Anthony asked as they picked through gobs of melted plastic from dry-cleaner bags.

Ridge rolled his eyes. “Right. So, he takes me out to Angelo’s.”

Anthony whistled. “Didn’t they get a fuckin’ Michelin star?”

“Why the fuck do you think I’d know that?” Ridge demanded. “Most of my meals are dino nuggets. But it was a nice place, you know. Like, I felt underdressed without a tux. The guy shows up in jeans and flip-flops, and the look on the host’s face…” He trailed off.

Ridge had met him on an app—Shaun, the accountant. His opening line on Grindr had been some math joke, which Ridge appreciated, even if he hadn’t understood it. It was something about you plus me, something, something, the perfect equation. He’d insisted that he wasn’t as boring as his job implied, and Ridge answered back that he wasn’t as interesting as the hot firefighters on TV.

It had been nice.

Until it wasn’t.

Until they showed up and sat down and Shaun immediately began to raise his voice at the server for not being fast enough with their drinks.

“…and it’s obviously not this poor woman’s fault,” Ridge went on as they headed back outside. He cleared the burnt plastic smell from his lungs as they headed back to the truck to wind the hose. “We’d ordered at the bar, so she had nothing to do with it. But this guy is acting like someone whipped out their dick and pissed on his literal naked toes.”

Anthony grimaced. “Shit.”

“Oh, it gets better. He did this thing—I swore it was some BS internet rumor from the twenty-teens, but he actually took out a stack of fives, and he spread them on the edge of the table. The server comes back, and he goes, ‘Sweetheart?—’”

“Wait, he called the server sweetheart?” Anthony asked.

Ridge groaned. “Yeah. He did. ‘Sweetheart,’ he said, ‘this is your tip tonight. Every time you’re late with our stuff or are too busy to attend to our needs, I’m going to take a five away. I’m not trying to be a dick, I want you to realize that if you treat us right, we’re going to treat you right. But if you treat us wrong, you’ll pay for it.’”

“Tell me that was the point you bailed.”

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