Put Out (Kilgore Fire Book 5)(3)

By: Lani Lynn Vale


“What was that?” July asked from her perusal of her paint samples.

July flipped houses with her husband. Her hunky firefighter husband who had a lot of hunky firefighter friends.

One certain hunky firefighter had been demanding my attention for a long freakin’ time now. Months, I’d been fighting off his advances. Months, I’d had to remind myself how freakin’ hard it was to deal with men like him.

The hunky firefighter even had a sexy name: Bowe.

God, was he beautiful.

Rock hard muscles stuffed into a tight navy blue Kilgore Fire Department t-shirt had me drooling.

Almost.

It wouldn’t do to let July know that I was attracted to him.

She’d then try to set me up, and a man was the last thing I needed on my plate at that moment in time. Though even without knowledge of my infatuation, she tried constantly to set Bowe and I up.

Pairing that with his constant prodding for me to date him, and I was nearly lost.

I’d been managing to avoid taking the plunge for a long time now, but one day I’d likely give in and hope that he was gentle with me.

“Nothing,” I muttered. “I need to go.”

July grinned. “Thank you for your help today.”

I waved back. “No problem.”

The moment I made it out the door, I slipped to the side yard in hopes of avoiding Bowe.

I’d nearly made it, too, but my pants caught on the fence I was trying to skulk behind, and I groaned when I heard the rip.

“You okay?” an amused male voice asked from in front of me.

He could see over the fence.

Of course he could.

It was only a five-foot fence. Why hadn’t I realized that?

“Fine, thanks,” I waved.

He moved forward until his arms rested on top of the fence, and his eyes went down to my pants.

“You don’t look okay,” he observed.

I gritted my teeth.

“Well, your eyes are obviously not working,” I snapped, ripping my pants free from the nail which happened to be sticking out of the fence.

His eyes watched as I covered my exposed ass back up with the newly added flap.

“Okay.” He held his hands up. “Sorry that I asked.”

I wasn’t.

I liked that he asked. That he cared enough to stop what he was doing to come and check on me.

I liked having his eyes on me, which was the root of the problem.

I sucked at making relationship choices, as evidenced by my asshole ex. Bowe seemed like a nice guy now, but who’s to say that he would always be that nice?

That’s right, I had no guarantee that one day he wouldn’t try to kill me like my last ex had.

Then where the hell would I be?

That’s right, in a hell of a lot of trouble.

“See you around,” I muttered, escaping as quickly as my feet would take me.

Bowe’s eyes followed me as I went.

“Yeah,” he grunted. “See you later.”





Chapter 1


I just ate a Snickers and I’m still a bitch. WTF- Snickers! False advertisement is a crime!

-Secret thoughts of Bowe

Bowe

“Shit, Bowe,” Sierra smiled at me. “I have to go, my friend finally decided to study. She’s habitually late. I’m sorry I teased you.”

I grinned at Sierra.

“It’s okay,” I said. “I understand. Call or Skype me later.”

Sierra’s beautiful face filled the screen. “I can do that.”

She closed her screen down; instead of doing the same, I took the phone from my nightstand and texted PD, telling him that we were going to have to postpone our lunch about thirty minutes. Seemed I had a pesky hard on to deal with, and I didn’t think I could go to lunch with it throbbing in my pants.

Sierra and I had been dating online for about a month now.

Surprisingly, I’d met her at the supermarket while on a food run with the Kilgore Fire Department, and we’d exchanged emails and phone numbers while standing in line.

Originally, I’d stopped there because I’d seen a certain brunette at the same grocery store.

Trying to make her jealous, I’d allowed Sierra to make the move instead of avoiding any advances like I normally would have.

When I got no reaction out of Angie, I knew that I needed to move on.

And I’d tried.

With Sierra.

She was nice enough, but she wasn’t Angie.

Unluckily for the both of us, Sierra lived out of state, and we started to get to know each other online and through emails rather than the traditional face-to-face way.

That worked for me, though.

I was a thirty-two year old man who couldn’t talk to a beautiful woman without finding a fault. Every woman I came into contact with got compared to her—Angie.

After taking care of messaging PD, I flipped the chair catch that allowed my computer chair to sit further back, and leaned backwards, letting my feet rest against the desktop.

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