I thought you'd come over last night..." She lowers herself into the metal folding chair next to me and purrs into my ear. The way she rubs her slender leg against mine, it's pretty clear the type of activity she'd had in mind for yesterday evening’s entertainment.

My jaw ticks with irritation at the unwelcome disturbance. Reluctantly tearing my attention away from the sheet of paper in my hand, I squint into the woman's eager face. Uh, do I know you?

She leans closer as a bead of sweat rolls down between her cleavage and disappears under the fabric of her pale blue scrubs. “I was lonely," she tells me with a playful pout as her painted fingernail traces the inner seam of my pant leg, blazing a northbound trail. "And I was really looking forward to seeing you."

My hand clamps down on hers, stopping her fingers in their trajectory. I scan her features again. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Huge tits. Long legs. Not one distinguishing blemish stands out. Very pretty but sort of generic, if I'm honest. Nonetheless, from the way she’s looking at me, I’m guessing that she and I must have made plans at some point.

A wrinkle of irritation shows up right in the middle of her forehead. "We talked about this..." She tilts her head and studies my expression. "Last week..." Dammit—I'm still drawing a blank. "At your housewarming party..." By now, she's really pissed. She folds her arms under her breasts and shoots daggers my way. "...While you were tearing off my shirt on your kitchen counter. For god's sake, Ben!"

Finally, tiny fragments of a blurry puzzle begin slipping into place. Oh, right. Her. Damn, I really was on autopilot that night.

In my defense, my head's been out of the game lately. I've had one singular goal over the past few months. It's all I've been able to focus on. Everything else has been secondary. 

Besides, the housewarming party had been Madden's idea. My brother had insisted that it was a bad omen to not throw a bash after signing the deed on my new house. He'd brought the guests. He'd brought the food. He'd brought the booze. I'm pretty sure the only reason I got an invitation to the event is because I'm the only one with the code for the security system. Anyway...

Fuck—what’s this girl's name again? Jessica? Joanna? Jane?

Whoever she is, she smells strongly of spearmint gum, latex gloves and hand sanitizer. While none of those smells is inherently unpleasant on its own, the combination is overwhelming my respiratory system. I hold my breath and give her a flimsy smile. “Uh, hey…"

Judy? Jennifer? Jacobina? I have no fucking clue. Regis—I think I’m gonna need to phone a friend.

A particularly charismatic sneeze rings out from somewhere at the back of the tiny auditorium. I’m starting to get claustrophobic. I tug the collar of my dark blue uniform away from my throat and blow a breath down my chest. Can somebody turn down the heat in here? I'm sweating the hairs right off my chest.

This room is way too hot. Too many big, pulsing, testosterone-filled bodies in the tight space. Definitely a violation of the fire code. The majority of the fire department is packed in here together with the police force, the paramedics and, of course, the hospital's emergency staff. The brunette is sweating like the rest of us. But it's the liquid pooling in the corner of her eye that has me concerned.

Please don't start crying...Jillian? Josephine?! Oh boy!

I take a quick glance around, making sure we don't have an audience. Everyone else in the room is fully invested in trying to find a seat as far as possible from the stage or nabbing stale pastries from the table set up by the door. My gaze travels back to the sullen face of the disgruntled woman next to me and there's a sharp twitch in my chest.

I'm not a complete asshole. I don't take pleasure in making innocent women cry. Actually, the sight of a woman's tears—and particularly, knowing that I'm the cause of them—is one of the few things that actually rattles me. Always takes me back to the day I made the biggest mistake of my life, that fateful day I'd rather forget. 

Thankfully, a big, broad body pops up right over her shoulder at that moment. It’s almost as if I’ve conjured my twin brother out of thin air. “What’s up, Jules?”

Right—her name is Jules.

Cocky as ever, Madden stands there with a thumb hooked into the fabric of his front pocket and smirks down at her. The smug glint in his blue eyes seems to get right under her skin. She looks his way and hisses. “Ugh! You!”

“I see you’re still campaigning to hitch a ride into the sunset with my frigid-ass brother, huh, babe? How’s that going for you?”

She seethes. “Fuck you, Madden.”

Her aggression makes him grin wider. “When are you gonna see the light? You’re wasting your time.” He spreads his arms wide, offering himself up to her. “You see this right here? This Riggs brother is the wild ride you’ve been waiting for. Come on over to the dark side!” He snaps an infuriatingly arrogant wink.

Jules ignores him completely, her venomous attention focused on me.  "I can't be with someone like you,” she announces decidedly. “You’re an emotional brick wall. We shouldn't see each other anymore."

I'm at a loss for how to respond. There's no playbook for how to react when getting dumped by a person you never even realized you were in a relationship with but I'm pretty sure a loud hearty ‘hurray!’ is not the way to go.   

Instead, I bow my head and go with a somber "If that's what you want—"

Abruptly, she rises from her chair, sticking a hand out to silence me. "Yes, that's what I want." She gives my brother a nasty side-eye. "And you? I hope you shoot yourself in the dick with that stupid gun of yours."

With cinematic flair that catches the attention of half the room, she twirls on her heel and rushes out the door with wet tracks of mascara streaking down her cheeks. Her dramatic exit earns me a stern scowl from my captain. I flinch. Today could be a pivotal day for my career and the last thing I need is negative attention from my boss. I need to set a good example, demonstrate my leadership abilities. And the pussy drama definitely won't help my cause.

Madden looks at me and laughs. "Another classic case of 'it's not you, it's me', huh bro?" His palm lands on my back in a condescending slap.

"Shut up," I grind out. "She seemed like a nice girl."

He snorts. "Yeh, sure. As if you'd even notice."

My eyes drop back to the report in my hand. Grumbling under my breath, I flip to the 'Recommendations' section. "I really need to stop fucking all the nurses in this town..."

"And the coffee shop baristas. And the grocery store cashiers. And the middle school crossing guards." Madden's blue eyes twinkle with mirth as he lands in the recently vacated chair next to me.

"What? Jealous that the ladies won't settle for your ugly ass after having a taste of me?" I shamelessly pop my collar just to irritate him.

My brother and I may both be blond-haired and blue-eyed, but we're not identical. I'm taller and leaner in build. Plus, I'm far better-looking. Madden is structured like a muscled refrigerator covered in tattoos and on the rare occasion that he drops that devil-may-care smile, his face gets downright scary. That’s why he’s a perfect fit for law enforcement.

Regardless, he’s a ruthless flirt. His courtship dance usually ends one of two ways—with a woman ready and willing to take his cock down her throat or to crush the heel of her stiletto into his groan. (I'm guessing that Jules' reaction was the latter.)

My brother scoffs. "I wouldn't touch your sloppy seconds with a ten-foot pole covered in antibiotics." When his phone bleats, he pulls it out of his pocket and checks his notifications. He blows out an exaggerated breath, feigning relief. "Thank god for CheekyChat. If it weren't for this dating app, I'd be in a perpetual state of blue balls because you've already fucked all the single women within county limits."

If I have to hear him talk about that stupid app one more time! He’s obsessed with it. He even downloaded it on my phone for me to try but it’s annoying as hell. The damn notifications ring on my phone all hours of the day and I can’t figure out how to delete it.

I roll my goddamn eyes. "Dude, you're one to talk about my lifestyle."

Knees spread wide, he slouches back in his chair. "No, no, no! Y'see, the difference between you and me is this—the women who play around with me, they know exactly what they're dealing with. It's all for shits and giggles and orgasms. And they know that. You? You're passive. You operate on rote. When they start making plans with you, you just go along with it because seventy-five percent of the time, you're not even listening to what they're saying. And next thing you know—these girls have feelings for you when you're not capable of feeling anything for them in return.” These next words are like the jab of a hot poker straight through the heart. “I am a good, honest guy who’s just not ready to settle down yet. You, my friend, are a cold-hearted bastard."

I drag a big paw down my face to wipe the cringe from my features. I'd like to say that my brother is wrong, that he's just spewing off at the mouth. But I can't. While I'd never deliberately lead a woman on, I can see how my passive attitude to relationships might cause her to have expectations. Plus, I have a good job, I have a house. It's not crazy that a woman might think I'm amenable to having a relationship and maybe settling down.

It's just that, I made 'forever' plans once upon a time with a girl I was crazy about and the way it ended was anything but happily ever after. I ended up breaking her heart. The fact that I had no other choice at the time is no consolation. And I've felt guilty and pissed at myself every day since.

The part of myself that I'm supposed to share with a woman, it's been numb ever since the day Angie left this town. 

I'm ashamed to even admit that to myself because it makes me feel weak. It's so damn stupid that after all this time, I still feel this way. Shouldn't I be over it by now? Shouldn't the pulsing guilt and the raging longing and the other mixed-up emotions have subsided?

They haven't.

I guess that's what all the random sex with the random women is about. That's also why I've thrown myself into my job with such grasping, desperate fervor. Everybody needs a reason to put one foot in front of the other day after day, right? Fighting fires has become mine.

Captain MacBride moves toward the front of the cramped auditorium and rises onto the low platform. He clears his throat, drawing the room's attention to him. The crowd falls quiet. I rub my palms together, more than ready for this meeting to begin. If my report is well-received, that would be a huge step in the right direction for me.

The captain opens the discussion by explaining the purpose of the meeting. "As you all know, a few months ago, there was a fire at a local bakery that left two people injured. The response of the town's first responders was less than ideal. Dispatch was literally asleep on the job, taking a late evening siesta at his desk. It took too long to get those fire engines to the scene. The paramedics did not follow first aid protocol. The hospital staff were unprepared to receive the victims. Quite frankly, the two people caught in the fire were lucky to have come away with only minor injuries. The complete loss of the building could have been avoided if the relief effort had been better coordinated, more efficient." There's an audible grumbling in the room in reaction to the captain’s inflammatory words and accusatory tone.

He’s approaching this situation all wrong, getting everyone on the defensive. When my father was alive he always used to say that MacBride may be great at handling fires, but he's not great at handling people. No one wants to take responsibility for the botched mission. That's human nature. If this man doesn’t reel it in, the meeting could easily go off the rails and lead to even more departmental in-fighting.

I rise up from my seat and make an appeasing movement with both of my hands, urging the crowd to simmer down. "We're not here to point fingers, guys. We're looking for solutions. Remember—our first priority as emergency responders is to save lives and property, as the case may be. It's not about ego."

Glancing toward the captain, he gives me a nod of assent as the complaining peters out. Inwardly, I sigh with relief, lowering myself back into my seat. Interrupting him like that was a bold move. It could have gone either way, taking me one step closer to my goal or kicking me a couple rungs down the ladder.

After 32 years in the fire service, Captain MacBride is taking his retirement in a couple of months and I plan to be perfectly positioned to step in and fill his shoes as soon as the position officially opens up. Maybe I'm arrogant as fuck, angling for this job when there are guys in the department with far more experience than I have but I've got a chip the size of a fire engine on my shoulder. I need to prove myself. I need to prove that I can make something of my life. That I'm more than the dumbass who destroyed the best thing that ever happened to me all those years ago.

Captain MacBride speaks again. "The goal really is to improve our emergency response. The police department, the fire service, the EMTs and of course, the hospital's trauma unit should all be working together as different arms of a well-oiled machine to ensure effective emergency response." His sharp gaze falls on me. He scrubs the edge of his thumb over his Tom Selleck moustache as he speaks. "Y'know what—I've got one foot out the door. My retirement is only months away. So, I'll hand the floor over to someone I see having a long and promising career in the fire department. And in all honesty, my name may be on that report but he's really the person who busted his ass for the past few months putting these observations together. Lieutenant Riggs, get up here and lay out your proposal." 

My ears are ringing. What?! 

I did not see this coming. And neither did my coworkers judging by their low, grumbled protests. It's true that I'm the one who put together the report that the captain was going to present today but I wasn't expecting to actually get credit for it publicly. Well, I'll be damned if I don't grab this opportunity. I'm ready for it.

This is it. This is my moment. 

Madden gives me a good kick in the shin from his seat beside me. A bit of brotherly encouragement, I guess. Again, I rise out of my seat. I move toward the front of the room, mindful to not show just how eager I am to take the stage. MacBride's going to see my leadership abilities, my organizational skills, my willingness to take initiative. And ultimately, when he takes his retirement, he's going to give me his fucking job.

I can't help the smirk that twists my lips as I stand on the platform at the front of the room and look out over the group, everyone's eyes focused squarely on me. "Good morning."

There are a few nods in the crowd as they respond in chorus. "Good morning."

"Most of you know me, but for those who don't I'm Benjamin Riggs, a lieutenant at the Copper Heights Fire Department. Following last summer's fire at the Broken Cupcake bakery, I took it upon myself to prepare a report detailing the response of the town's first responders and making a list of recommendations for mitigating damage of that magnitude in the future." I pass the stack of hand-outs to the person sitting closest to the stage. I watch patiently as the documents make their way around the room. 

Just as I'm about to resume my presentation, another damn sneeze rings out in the audience. I'm starting to get annoyed. I throw a glare over in the direction of the culprit. A curtain of straight black hair slides forward over a pair of narrow shoulders as the sickly offender buries her face in a wad of tissues and blows hard. Damn you, Nina! Don't people know to take a day off when they're sick? She's a doctor, for crying out loud. Is she trying to start a pandemic? I shake my head in disgust.

As I’m hauling my focus away from her, my eyes catch on the face of the woman sitting to her right. My heart immediately stalls in my chest. Everything around me seems to stop.

Thick, brown bangs and a shoulder-length cut. A chestnut gaze so intense I can feel it even from behind the lenses of her square frames. Lips I used to get lost kissing for hours on end. Somehow, I still remember exactly how she tastes. Now, I’m craving cinnamon and cherries and everything else she represents.

No…it can't be...

But it is… 

I see the way her chest rises and her shoulders tense as we stare at each other. Yes, it's definitely her.  

In a state of complete shock, her name spills out of my mouth. "Gigi?"

Her expression hardens at once and her glare goes caustic. She fumbles with the beeper in her hand when it chimes. "Excuse me..." she mouths silently, apologizing again and again as she stumbles over the legs and feet blocking her path to the nearest exit. She rushes out of the room.

"Riggs?" The captain's voice snaps me back to the present. “You all right?” MacBride stares at me expectantly with a grey brow lifted high on his forehead. The crowd sits patiently, waiting for me to speak. 

No! Hell no! There's no way I'm letting Angie out of my sight right now. All of a sudden, this meeting doesn't feel all that important anymore. The next thing I know, I'm mumbling a half-assed apology and charging through the door after her.