"Christ, this shit tastes like charcoal and lighter fluid." Adam tossed the burger back on the plate and reached for the bottle of water next to his elbow. The guys were making similar comments, all tossed in Jay's direction. Everyone except Jimmy, who couldn't hear anyone because he was sitting there with his earbuds in, listening to who-knew-what.

"Not my fault I picked the short straw to cook. Again." Jay frowned at his own burger then slowly pushed his plate away. "Okay, yeah, that's pretty bad."

"Don't even pretend you didn't do this on purpose. You're usually not this bad."

"Yeah, sure. I deliberately doused the burgers because I wanted to starve tonight." Jay shook his head and got up from the table, grabbed his plate and headed toward the trash can. "Do you know how long it's been since I've used a charcoal grill? Why the hell didn't day shift fill the tank on the gas grill? You want to blame someone, blame them."

"Oh bullshit. It doesn't take a genius to figure out you're not supposed to throw the burgers on until after the grill stops flaming." Dale grabbed his own plate and headed to the trash can, a scowl on his face. Adam bit back a laugh, remembering how much Dale had been looking forward to the meat. Apparently his girlfriend, Melanie, had been on a vegetarian kick the last month. They were already taking bets on how long it would be before Dale finally blew.

"When the hell does Pete get back from vacation, anyway?" Adam made his own way to the trash can as he asked the question. Their lieutenant was the one who normally did all the cooking on their shift. Every single one of them took it as some kind of betrayal that he had abandoned them and left them to fend for themselves while he was gone.

"Not soon enough."

"For shit's sake, would you guys stop whining? It's not like we're going to starve. We'll just order pizza or something." Mikey pushed her way around them and dumped her own plate into the trash can. "You're all acting like a bunch of babies. And you're giving me a headache so knock it off."

"What the hell crawled up your ass?"

"Yeah. You've been grumpy all shift. What the hell's up with that?"

Mikey spun on her heel and pinned Adam with one of her classic glares: head tilted to the side, brows lowered over narrowed green eyes, lips pursed like she'd just been forced to suck a down a whole lemon. She reached back, redid her ponytail, then gave him another glare.

"I told you, I'm PMSing."

"Oh bullshit. You used that excuse two tricks ago. Don't try to use it again."

A small smile teased her mouth but only for a second. "Yeah, well. You guys drive me to it. I feel like I'm working with a bunch of little boys with all the constant whining going on."

Everyone laughed, including Dave, who had been the straight-laced grumpy ass of the shift. At least until he hooked up with his girlfriend, CC, last year.

No, not hooked up. That was the absolute wrong phrase to use. That implied a casual encounter—and Adam was the only one on their shift into that kind of thing. Probably the only one in the station. Hell, probably their whole fucking battalion. Which was fine by him—he wasn't cut out for a relationship. He'd learned that lesson already—the hard way. And yeah, ha ha, pun intended. Everyone else on his shift could settle down and play house if they wanted. Whatever suited them was fine by Adam.

But that wasn't him. It never would be. He preferred the freedom of no-strings sex. Casual encounters. No expectations.

That suited him just fine.

He moved back to the table and started cleaning up the rest of their burnt dinner. Mikey and Jay were arguing over what kind of pizza to get. Dale was trying to convince Dave to take the medic unit to pick it up. And Jimmy was sitting there, totally oblivious to everything with his earbuds still in.

Just another night with his perfectly imperfect dysfunctional family.

Sometimes, it was enough to drive him insane.

Usually, when he was feeling this way, he'd disappear downstairs, get on his phone, and play around in the chatroom. Maybe schedule a hook-up for the following day. Only he didn't feel like doing that tonight. The whole idea left him feeling antsy and unsettled and he didn't know why.

Or maybe he did and was just afraid to admit it—because he wasn't sure what he'd do if he saw Beth on there again.

He tried to warn her away from the chatroom the last time they were together, nearly two weeks ago. It was dangerous, he'd told her. He hadn't lied—it could be dangerous. There was no way to tell who you were really talking with, no way to tell who or what you might encounter when meeting in person. The game was new to Beth and he didn't want her to put herself in a dangerous position.

At least, that's what he tried to tell himself, even if he had never worried about something like that before. To each his own, right?

Except he still didn't want to see Beth in the chatroom, didn't want her taking unnecessary risks. That's why he broke down and told her that if she was ever in the mood, to call him directly and he'd help her out. No matter when.

Because yeah, he was so fucking noble that way.

It didn't matter how many times he tried to convince himself otherwise, he knew it was more than a concern for her safety that had prompted him to issue the personal invitation. He'd never done that before, not with any of his previous hook-ups. Not even his favorite ones. So why Beth? What was it that was so different about her?

Sure, she possessed a certain refreshing innocence, something he'd never encountered before in spite of all the things they'd done their last two times together. She wasn't the most beautiful woman he'd been with, either. Yes, Beth was very attractive and pretty. Short with generous curves, a killer smile and those gorgeous eyes. God, he loved the way her eyes changed colors when they were together, going from smoky green to warm brown and all the shades in between. She was eager in bed, willing to learn new things. And she was a fast learner, too.

A grin spread across his face as memories—clear and vivid—swirled through his mind. Yes, she was definitely a fast learner.

But none of that should matter. None of that was enough for him to break his own rules and actually issue an invitation like that. At least, it shouldn't be. So why the fuck had he?

By his own rules, they had one more time together. Just one. Adam didn't see any of his hook-ups more than three times, period. That was a hard-and-fast rule. It kept things clean and fun. No strings, no matter what.

If he were smart, he'd get in touch with Beth and schedule that third hook-up and be done with it—except part of him was afraid to.

Afraid that third time wouldn't be enough, that he'd want a fourth and a fifth and—

"Hey, Romeo."

Something hit Adam in the shoulder, jerking him to the side. He frowned and straightened in the chair, then twisted to the side to see Dale standing over him. "What the hell?"

"We've been calling your name for five minutes. Are you deaf?"

"Whatever." Adam rubbed his shoulder and tried to push all thoughts of Beth from his mind.

"What do you want on your pizza?"

"I don't know. The usual, I guess."

Mikey plopped down in the chair across from him and shook her head, her ponytail swinging. "No. No onion or peppers. The kitchen will reek if you get that."

"Since when do you care?"

"Since just now. Get something else."

"What the hell is wrong with—"

"No, seriously. I mean it." She shook her head again, the frown on her face deepening. Everyone turned to look at her, varying degrees of confusion on their faces. Adam opened his mouth to say something only to be stopped by Jay's hand clamping down on his shoulder—hard.

Adam rolled his eyes and pushed Jay's hand away. "Fine, whatever. Pepperoni and mushroom then. I don't care."

Mikey looked up from the orders she was scribbling on a small notepad and offered him a lopsided grin. "Aw. Are we pouting now?"

"Kiss my ass."

"With as much as you've been around? No thanks. That thing needs to be sterilized first."

Adam ignored the laughter that greeted her words, tried to pretend they hadn't struck a sore spot. And what the hell was up with that? Shit like that had never bothered him before. "Funny. Real funny."

Dave yanked the earbuds from Jimmy's ears then looked over at them. "Would you guys just finish up so we can call the order in and go pick it up?"

"Don't rush me." Mikey made a few more notes on the pad then ripped off the top sheet and handed it back over her shoulder. Dave took it from her then frowned as he read over it. "Five pizzas? There's only six of us."

"Yeah, and everyone wants something different. Deal with it."

Dave muttered something under his breath and started to shove the small slip of paper into his pocket. The alarm went off, echoing around them. All movement stilled as the radio blared to life for a medic call—a car accident a few miles from the station.

Dave removed the note from his pocket and tossed it toward Mikey. "Looks like you guys are picking it up now."

Dave and Jimmy were hurrying from the kitchen when the alarm went off again, this time for the engine. The accident was now being dispatched as an auto fire with people trapped.

"Fuck."

"So much for dinner."

The room erupted in action, everyone running for the engine room. Less than a minute later, they were pulling out the door, sirens wailing and air horn blasting as Dale turned the hulking engine into traffic.

Adam slid his arms into the strap of the bottle hooked to the seat, glanced over the engine compartment to see Mikey doing the same. The air horn blasted again, long and loud as they approached an intersection, stopping long enough to make sure traffic was clear before going through it.

Thirty minutes later, they were back at the station, gathered around the large round table with open pizza boxes scattered in front of them. The auto fire with rescue had turned into a dud, called in by a concerned yet overreacting bystander when they noticed "smoke" coming from the hood of the car. The smoke had been nothing more than steam, and the rescue had been a simple case of the driver unlocking his door. The accident had been a simple fender bender with property damage only and they had cleared the scene within five minutes of their arrival. Even the medic crew had lucked out because neither driver wanted—or needed—to go to the hospital.

Adam reached for his third slice of pizza then scooped up the glob of cheese and pepperoni stuck to the box before Jay could get it. He shrugged and offered Jay an unapologetic grin. "Hey, it came off my slice. I have dibs."

"That doesn't—"

"Oh God, don't start. Please. You guys are like a bunch of babies." Mikey grabbed a slice of pizza and tossed it onto Jay's plate. "There. Now you can pull all the toppings from that. Better?"

"That's not—"

"Whatever." Mikey cut Jay off with a quick wave of her hand. "Now let's talk about Saturday night instead."

"What's Saturday night?"

"Nick is playing at Duffy's. What else?" Mikey wiped her mouth with a napkin and pushed away from the table. "Who all's going?"

There was a chorus of answers, all in the affirmative—which shouldn't have surprised Mikey. Their entire shift always went to Duffy's when Nick's band was playing. Even when he wasn't playing, they still went. Duffy's was their hangout.

"Is everyone bringing dates?" Jay looked around the table, like he didn't already know the answer.

"Of course. Well, everyone except Jimmy and Adam." Mikey answered the question with a roll of her eyes.

Jimmy leaned across the table to grab one of the pizza boxes and pulled it closer to him. "Nope, just Adam. I'll actually have a date with me."

Silence greeted Jimmy's statement. He paused with the slice halfway to his mouth then lowered it and looked around. "What? Why's everyone staring at me?"

"You're bringing a date?" Adam didn't bother hiding his surprise—the same surprise everyone else had. But it wasn't just surprise he was feeling: a sense of something very much like dread filled him.

"Yeah, I am. Why is that so surprising?"

"Why? Because you and Adam are the confirmed bachelors, that's why. How the hell did you manage to snag a date?"

Jimmy opened his mouth to reply but Dave beat him to it. "Don't be too impressed. Sheila, one of the ER nurses, finally took pity on him and said yes. It's a mercy date, that's all."

"Why do you have to say things like that? It's not a mercy date." Jimmy took a huge bite of pizza, chewed and swallowed, then gave everyone a big grin. "She finally succumbed to my irresistible charm."

"Yeah. Not to mention your good manners." Mikey wadded a paper towel and threw it at him, which only made everyone laugh even harder.

"I guess that leaves our resident Romeo, huh?" Jay nudged Adam in the side. "Guess you'll be the odd man out."

"No, I can bring a date." Adam nearly choked on the words. What the hell was he saying? He didn't bring dates to shift outings, ever. The guys knew that—which was probably why they were all staring at him. He cleared his throat, wondering if the heat he felt spreading across his face was merely his imagination. "I just don't want to, that's all."

"Don't want to—or can't?"

"I think Adam could find all the dates he wanted. Isn't that right?" Dale gave him a knowing look, a hundred different meanings contained in the seconds-long glance. Adam clenched his jaw and wished to hell he had never mentioned his hook-ups to anyone. He was ready to say something to Dale—something along the lines of go to hell—but Mikey talked right over him.

"Then it's settled. A cook-out for twelve at our place in the afternoon then we'll all head to Duffy's."

The heat evaporated from Adam's face, replaced with a chill he didn't want to acknowledge. "I didn't say—"

But Mikey kept on talking, ignoring his lame attempts to get the words out of his mouth. No, he wasn't bringing anyone. Why would any of them think he would? But he couldn't get the words out, couldn't speak around the lump of dread clogging his throat.

It didn't matter because everyone was talking again, discussing if it was too late in the year for a cook-out despite the nice weather. Discussing if they wanted to do steaks and chicken or burgers and dogs. Warning Jay that he wasn't allowed to get near the grill.

The voices faded away, disappearing in the loud buzzing echoing in Adam's mind. Fuck. He didn't want to bring a date. Why the hell would they expect him to? They knew better, every single one of them.

Well, screw them. He didn't have to bring a date, and he sure as hell didn't have to explain why. And he was positive that not a single one of them would be surprised when he showed up solo—because that's what he did.

Always.