Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 90721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Bowe was just the opposite. He was Italian, through and through. Dark complexion, inky black hair. The men at the station called him ‘Chef’ because of his excellent cooking skills. He didn’t just stick to Italian either. He was skilled in any type of dish he deemed to cook. He was one of the youngest at the station at twenty-nine. He was also a charmer.
Peeling my eyes away from Bowe’s cocky knowing grin that said he’d caught me staring, I turned and regarded my brother who was watching my perusal of the young firefighter.
“Hey, Lucas. What are you doing here?” I asked as I rolled the soiled gloves off my hands, folded them in on each other, and hugged my brother.
Luke’s arms wrapped tightly around me, smashing my face into his chest. “How ya doin’, Bay?”
I smiled into Luke’s chest. I loved my brother senseless. As children, we’d been very close. When he’d enlisted into the marines, and then was deployed, I’d missed him like crazy. Then he’d gotten out of the marines because of my niece, Katerina, was born. He stayed in Casper for a year before moving to Texas.
Luke said it was because of a job offer; I had a different theory. Mainly, the she-devil of a girlfriend that broke up with Luke after she’d found out that he’d had a kid. It wasn’t pretty, and Luke had left her as soon as he’d become aware that Lydia wasn’t going to grow up and be an adult about the situation.
I’d missed my niece horribly in the last three years, but I was here now, and I’ve been trying to make up for it ever since.
“I’m doing well, big brother. Still sun burned, though.” I smiled wide at my brother.
He groaned. He’d been upset that he wasn’t there to help me put the deck together, but he’d been right. The backyard looked freaking awesome. Now all I needed was to spread the rock I’d bought last week around the deck, and I’d be done.
“I’m sorry again, Bay. I meant to get there, I really did.” Luke apologized.
I smiled at him. “It’s okay, big brother. I’ve got to run this guy down to the cooler. I’ll see you tonight when you drop Katy off for her sleepover.”
Luke ruffled my hair as I left the room and headed for the bus that now housed the dead guy who’d made the unfortunate decision to invade a mama bear’s territory.
Dillon was standing beside truck three with his arms crossed tightly across his chest. He looked intimidating with his trademarked scowl taking over his face. However, that wasn’t indicative of his mood. He could be in the best of moods and still be scowling. The way to tell was to watch his feet. If they were tapping, he was happy. If they were planted and still, he was mad.
Now, for instance, they were tapping.
“What’s up, Dillon?” I asked as I walked up between the two trucks.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Dillon looked almost nervous.
“Hey, girl. I know you’ve not gotten to too many places while you’ve been here. The boys and I thought we’d rectify that. I’ve got two tickets to the Ranger game in Dallas tomorrow. Want to go?” He asked.
Was Dillon asking me out? Or was he really trying to get me more acclimated to my new community? Was this platonic? I sure hoped so. I didn’t want to date anyone from the station. I’d done that once before and been burned.
I liked it here. I knew better than to jump in that particular pool.
“I’m sorry, Dillon. I’ve made plans with my niece to have a sleepover this weekend. I appreciate you asking me though.” I smiled.
“That’s okay. The boys and I go a lot. We share a pair of season tickets between the station. There’ll be a next time.” He said before turning and climbing into the truck.
The big beast roared to life with a rumble, and Dillon, Bowe, PD, and Fat-baby rumbled out of the parking lot.
PD and Fat-baby weren’t ones I knew well.
PD’s real name was Dean Hargrove. He was tall, like six inches over six feet tall, and towered over my own height. He was the second best cook in the station. They started calling him PD after Paula Dean. The men liked to tease him about his butter fixation, and the name Paula Dean stuck.
Fat-baby’s real name was Aaron Sims. Aaron received his nickname because he’d bought a pair of Fat-baby boots without realizing they were women’s boots. From then on, the name had stuck. Although he’d been nice to me, he seemed a little standoffish, which wasn’t too surprising when I’d become aware that he had a wife who was a jealous bitch. Apparently, before I’d appeared, Aaron’s wife didn’t like the fact that there were women in the same building where her man slept overnight. Which was even more of the case now that I was there practically every other night.
“Let’s go, Bay! If we leave now, we’ll get back to the station before shift change!” Winter called from the bus.
I walked quickly to the truck. That was one thing I hated doing was going past shift change. It didn’t matter if the call happened after we were scheduled to be off. If dispatch called us for a call, and we were in the ambulance, we’d be going to the call. Then we’d have to stay after to write up the PCRs (or patient care reports) once we were back at the station. That was also if we were lucky we didn’t catch another call in route to the station.
We were lucky.
Forty minutes later, we pulled up to the station, got out of the bus, and even walked inside to the table before another tone dropped. Even luckier, the shift change happened five minutes prior, meaning we’d dodged the call. We still had to do PCRs, but those would’ve been done regardless. In turn, it meant we were out of the station only an hour off schedule, rather than our normal two or three.