Page 6 of Hot Response
“We are not hiring a teenager to shovel snow, Mom. You have one sitting in the living room.”
“It’s a lot for one boy. And you know he’s behind on his homework. He needs to spend that time catching up.”
“It’s not too much for him. He just doesn’t want to do it becausenobodywants to shovel snow, and you need to stop babying him. He can shovel the snow and then do his homework.”
“I know you think I baby him, Cait, but you’re too hard on him.”
With a weary sigh, Cait closed the notebook. Then she shut her eyes and breathed deeply for a moment, wondering what her life would be like if Duke hadn’t died. She’d never been much of a party girl, but she’d gone out with friends. She’d even started dating again, after her last long-term relationship had gone stale.
But now, after an exhausting day at work, there was an exhausting evening with her mother and brother ahead of her. And the distance to her old neighborhood, where her friends and favorite stomping grounds were, was just far enough to require an effort she didn’t have the energy for.
It made her feel old and tired, and the memory of Gavin’s carefree laugh popped into her head. She could picture that boyish grin and that damn cowlick, so she opened her eyes. Thinking about him again wouldn’t do anything but make her feel restless, and it was a restlessness she couldn’t do a damn thing about.
She was willing to bet Gavin knew how to show a girl a good time, and—damn—she really needed a good time in her life.
But trying to date, even casually, while she was stressed out by her family would probably only lead to more complications and her plate was full of those. She’d be better off getting her mom back on her own two feet, finding herself her own place andthenfinding a guy who was actually her type.
It made a lot more sense than being frustrated by her inexplicable attraction to a guy who was very muchnother type, and—as her mother often pointed out—Cait was always the sensible one in the family.
* * *
Gavin wasn’t really in the mood to shoot pool, but they’d all come up with the plan to meet up at Kincaid’s Pub while they were standing out on the sidewalk after the surprise childbirth incident yesterday, so he showed up. A night with the guys would probably beat sitting on his couch, watching TV alone. And even if it didn’t, he could use the distraction.
He wanted Cait Tasker out of his head.
There werezerogood reasons why the opinion of one cranky EMT should not only matter to him, but matter enough to still be pissing him off over twenty-four hours later.
But it was, like a tiny sliver just far enough under the skin so he couldn’t dig it out.
“You want in?”
Gavin looked at Aidan Hunt, who was holding a pool cue out to him, and then shook his head. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks.”
He much preferred leaning against the wall, nursing his beer and his grudge against the sexy EMT with the big attitude problem.
The bar had a full house tonight but the crews from Gavin’s house had pretty much taken over the pool alcove. None of the other regulars complained, though. The owner, Tommy Kincaid, and his best friend and fellow bar stool hog, Fitz Fitzgibbon, were retired Engine 59 and Ladder 37 respectively, so complaining about the firefighters to the management didn’t do anybody any good.
And the bartenders didn’t care, either. Lydia was married to Aidan Hunt and Ashley was married to Danny Walsh. And both were Tommy’s daughters and Scott’s sisters. It was a family bar and a firefighters’ bar at the same time, and Gavin was part of that extended family.
Neither Jeff Porter nor Chris Eriksson were there tonight. Both were family men with kids and, while they occasionally showed up, they weren’t big drinkers, either. Aidan would be in and out on any given night if his wife was working. And Ashley only worked the busiest nights because she was taking some online classes and because her and Danny’s world had completely changed when their son started walking.
Jackson Kincaid Walsh might have his daddy’s last name, but he was pure Kincaid. Stubborn, opinionated, hot-tempered and with enough energy to wear out his dad’s entire crew during visits to the firehouse with his mom. Gavin thought he was one of the most awesome kids he’d ever met, but he might feel differently if he didn’t get to give him back to his parents when he was exhausted, which usually took less than five minutes.
“Come on, Boudreau,” Grant called to him from the other end of the pool table. “You gotta stop sulking because the pretty EMT was mean to you.”
Gavin flipped him off.
“It could have been worse,” Grant continued. “She didn’t push you down the stairs.”
That got a laugh out of him. He’d heard stories about the day Cait Tasker pushed Joe Grassano down a flight of stairs and, though he knew they were 90 percent bullshit, Gavin let himself imagine her cackling as Joe tumbled.
“Seriously, kid,” Aidan said, and Gavin tried not to bristle. Aidan and Scott always called him and Grantkideven though there wasn’t that much difference in their ages. Usually he took it in stride, because the other guys kind of were like the big brothers he didn’t have, but he wasn’t in the mood. “Is there something else between you and Tasker? It’s not like you not to get along with somebody. Especially when that somebody’s a woman.”
“I don’t know why she doesn’t like me. And Grant already asked me if I hooked up with her and the answer is no. Nor have I hooked up with any sisters or best friends or anybody else that I know of.” He took another swig of his beer. “She’s not even my type.”
“You have a type?”
“You guys are really a barrel of fucking laughs lately.”
