Page 10 of Heat Exchange
Aidan wondered if Lydia knew that part yet, because he couldn’t imagine she’d take it well. He’d known the Kincaid family almost a decade and a half, and he knew that Ashley was the older sister, but Lydia was the junkyard dog. If you messed with the family, Ashley would try to talk it out with you, but Lydia would take your head off your shoulders.
“Lydia can worry about the beer and burgers and stay out of the rest of it,” Scotty said.
Aidan laughed out loud. “I wouldn’t recommend you tellherthat.”
“Hell, no. I’m not stupid.”
As they got close, Eriksson sighed. “Fun time’s over. Chief says we’ve gotta clean the engine bays today. And everything else that needs cleaning.”
“That’s bullshit,” Scotty said. “I swear to God, the guys on night tour last week were all raised in barns. We should go drag their asses out of bed and makethemclean up.”
Aidan didn’t mind the thought of filling the time around any runs with cleaning. It was mindless work that would keep him from having to look his best friend in the eye until he’d gotten a handle on thinking dirty thoughts about the guy’s sister.
He didn’t think theshe started itexcuse would cut it with Scott Kincaid.
Chapter Three
LYDIAALMOSTMADEit to Kincaid’s Pub without getting sidetracked. She might have made it all the way if she hadn’t heard sirens in the distance, which made her think of her brother. And thinking about her brother brought her back to the fact that—in her eyes—he’d chosen a fellow firefighter over his own sister.
She detoured down an alley and then over two blocks until she was standing in front of three stories of old, red brick. The bay doors were open so she could see the gleaming fronts of both trucks—Engine 59 written over the door on the left and Ladder 37 written over the right in big gold letters that gleamed against the chalky brick.
When she was a little girl, she’d thought it was a castle. She’d even drawn it into a picture for art class, the bricks towering behind a dark-haired princess in a long pink gown. The assignment had been fairy-tale illustrations, so the teacher had drawn a sad face on her picture. Lydia had been crushed. She’d also been the one who hid the unsealed bag of pastrami in the depths of the art teacher’s desk supply cabinet, but nobody knew that but her.
Over the years, the tall and narrow brick building became less of a princess castle and more of a place that competed for her father’s attention. More often than not, it had won. But there was no denying this place was woven into the fabric of her life.
There were a couple of webbed folding chairs in front of L-37, so she knew the guys had been sitting on the sidewalk, but there was nobody out there now. She stepped inside the open bay door, running her hand down E-59’s glossy, red side as her eyes adjusted to the light.
She’d shown up in high temper, but the sights, sounds and smells of the house wrapped around her like a blanket that brought her familiar comfort, even if it chafed a little bit.
“Can I help you?”
Lydia looked at the guy standing in front of her, who looked as if he was about twelve years old. “I’m looking for Scott Kincaid.”
He frowned, and then his expression morphed into a wide grin. “You must be his sister. You look just like him. I’m Grant Cutter. I was assigned here right after you moved away, I guess.”
“Lydia,” she said, shaking his hand. “Is Scotty around, do you know?”
“He was back in the cage with the air tanks. Let me—” There was a clang of metal and Grant broke off, peering around the end of the truck. “Here he comes. Hey, Scotty, your sister’s here.”
When her brother stepped around the back of the truck, a clipboard in his hand, Lydia nodded. “Hey, Scotty.”
“Hey.” He handed the clipboard to Grant. “Can you take this to Cobb?”
“Sure thing.”
“Don’t just put it on his desk or he’ll claim he never saw it. Hand it to him directly.” When Cutter nodded and headed for the stairs, Scotty turned his attention to Lydia. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the bar?”
“I was on my way and took a little detour. I’ve got enough time and Don’s cooking.” Don had been with the bar since before the ownership and name change, and her dad trusted him with a key and the safe combination. If she ran late, he’d cover out front until she got there.
“So just a little detour for grins, or were you looking for me?”
She knew him well enough to hear the slight edge in his voice, which meant he was already feeling defensive. And that meant he knew he was doing something wrong. “I stopped by to talk about Danny, actually.”
“Oh yeah?” Her brother put his hands on his hips, tilting his chin up slightly. “What about him?”
He knew very well what about him. “You don’t think maybe it would have been more appropriate if he stayed with one of the other guys?”
“I have a spare bedroom and the other guys don’t. Doesn’t make sense for him to crash on a couch or burden a family when I have an extra bed. And when a guy’s having a hard time, you try to be there for him. It’s called loyalty, you know.”
