Page 45 of Played
“Yeah, that’s good.” I stare after him and Khalil as they head toward the bay with the other fire truck. “He’s an all right guy for an extortionist.”
“Not extortionist. Opportunist. That man saw an opportunity to score some hockey tickets—I’m still confused about why—and he jumped on it. We firemen are a squirrely bunch. You gotta keep your head on a swivel around us.”
I huff out a short laugh, and a ghost of a smile whispers across her mouth.
“If there’s any consolation,” she says, sliding her hands in her pockets and rocking slightly back on the heels of her black steel-toed boots, “he’s a huge fan and is really enjoying the tickets.”
I nod, but before I can reply, the sound of a door opening catches my attention. The same guy I’d noticed earlier exits the firehouse and stalks past us, not speaking. But that mug on his face? Yeah, it’s a damn soliloquy entitled “Fuck You.”
I frown, staring at his retreating back until he climbs his goofy ass in a truck parked halfway down the block.
“You fuck him?”
Surprise and then an emotion that seems too ... complicated for anger briefly twists her face. There’s more in that darkening of her expression, and though I can’t accurately pinpoint what that emotion is, it has a flash of heat sweeping up my spine and prickling my skin. On impulse, I turn back in the direction of her coworker just in time to see the vehicle pull away from the curb and fly past us.
“No.” Her tone’s flat, dry. Not inviting any more discussion.
But shit, when has that ever stopped me? And only to myself will I admit that there’s more than curiosity nagging me. And that more, I’m not ready to even touch.
I cock my head. “You sure?”
Her chin tucks into her neck, and her face balls up. “Am I sure that I haven’t fucked Matt? What the hell kind of question is that? Not that it’s any of your business, but I think I remember who and who hasn’t been in my shit.”
Matt.I tuck that info away for later.
I shrug. “He’s acting like you giving away his pussy. Both back in there”—I tip my head toward the firehouse—“and now. So if he hasn’t fucked, then he must want to and you told him no.”
She doesn’t answer. But the emotion that flashes over her face this time I immediately recognize. Annoyance. Because I’m right.
And I tell her so.
“Yeah, that’s what it is.” The image ofMatt’sface earlier as he reentered the firehouse’s communal space flickers across my mind, and I frown, edging closer into her space until her breasts nearly brush my chest. “He a problem?” I growl.
“No, of course not,” she scoffs. But she’s also staring at my chest, not meeting my eyes. Suspicion, ugly and dirty, burrows in my chest.
“You wanna look at me when you lie to me?” I shift backward a step and dip my head, forcing her to look at me. When those pretty brown eyes rise to my face, I study her. Seeking out the answers that she’s hiding from me. No, I don’t have any evidence of that, but something ain’t right. “Now, let’s try that again. He a problem for you?”
“No,” she says, her voice firm, resolute. “And for future reference, I can handle myself and anyone else that comes my way.”
“I don’t doubt it, ma,” I murmur. “Doesn’t mean you have to. And for future reference,” I say, regaining the scant space I inserted between us, lowering my face until we’re almost sharing the same air, the same breath, “I don’t believe shit you just said. But I’m gonna trust ifthat”—I jerk my chin in the direction the asshole went—“becomes more of an issue, that you remember who has your back.”
“Who? You?” she scoffs, crossing her arms and grazing my chest.
That touch might as well be a stroke down my dick. At least that’s how hard I get. How hot lust blows through me like the roughest, wildest storm.
“Yeah, me.”
If I wasn’t so close to her, I might’ve missed the darkening of her eyes or that almost imperceptible gasp of air. She looks as stunned as I feel. Yeah, I hadn’t meant to say that. Part of me still doesn’t know if it’s true ...
Yeah, it’s true. If she called, texted, emailed, fucking smoke signaled that she needed me, I would be there. That doesn’t mean I don’t resent her for that.
Because I fucking do.
“Bullshit.” Her lips twist up at the corner in a counterfeit smile, and skepticism saturates that one word. “Why would you come running to the aid of someone you don’t like? Someone you consider a mistake? Hell, I’m still trying to figure out how you’re here today. I get the why—Khalil. He’s the cutest kid, so saying no to him must be an act of Congress. Still, I would’ve thought you’d bribe, plead, beg—do anything—to get out of being in the same space as me again. Even now, I can practically see your need to get up out of here.” She makes a derisive sound, giving her head one hard shake. “So no, I call bullshit. Even if I did have aproblem, as you call it, you would be the last person I’d admit it to, much less ask for help.”
That’s fair. I can’t fault her for her words or reaction. High-key, I don’t know how I’m here either. I love my son, and we all might indulge him a little too much lately, but I don’t have a problem saying no to him. One thing I’m not ’bout to do is raise a little badass demon who don’t know how to act. My parents didn’t play that, and neither do I.
So Khalil asked to come to the firehouse, but I wanted to be here too. Or else I wouldn’t be.
