Chapter Five
Cait was pretty sure she’d hit her head at the scene yesterday and hadn’t noticed it because that was the only way to explain the fact she was standing inside Gavin Boudreau’s firehouse at a ridiculously early hour on her day off, waiting for him to appear so she could invite him out for breakfast.
She’d had a rough night. Her mother saw her on the evening news and totally fell apart. There was sobbing and anger and demands Cait quit her job, because who was going to take care of her if something happened to Cait? Then, when Cait had refused to give in, there had been sulking. Cait hated the silent treatment even more than the sobbing or yelling.
And she hated a night spent tossing and turning, trying not to imagine the emotional devastation losing her would have piled on her mother and brother. Carter had seemed okay, muttering a good job, sis and giving her a high-five when their mom wasn’t looking. But even if seeing the news hadn’t shaken him, their mother’s overreaction had to affect him.
She’d also thought a lot more about a certain firefighter than she wanted to. She’d accused Gavin of not taking his job seriously and, even before yesterday, she’d forced herself to admit it wasn’t fair.
She owed him an apology, and what better way to apologize than over a cup of coffee and some bacon?
It was only a few minutes before he appeared, wearing jeans and a zip-up hoodie. He didn’t look nearly as tired as she felt, and she felt her body doing its omg, this man is so hot thing, which she hoped didn’t show. “Hi.”
“Hey, how you doin’ today?”
“Good. You?”
He shrugged one shoulder, making the duffel bag slung over it bump against his hip. “Just another day in paradise. What’s up?”
“I wanted to talk to you about something, and I thought...” She paused, and then made herself say it. “Maybe over breakfast.”
He looked confused for a few seconds, not that she could blame him. Nothing in their past interactions indicated she’d ever have an interest in sharing a meal with him, and the incident in the hallway after delivering the baby had probably made him believe she didn’t like him at all.
“Or just a coffee or something,” she said when he didn’t respond right away. “It won’t take long.”
“I could go for breakfast right about now. I was going to go around the corner if you want to join me?”
“Sure.”
They walked in silence to the tiny restaurant only locals would know was even there and took a table in the back. There were a few other diners, but nobody that she recognized as somebody she wouldn’t want eavesdropping. Most of the firefighters probably went straight home to crash in their beds for a while, she thought. Or maybe Gavin hadn’t given them the heads-up on the good food to be had. Cait had grabbed coffee and pastries there a few times, but she’d never sat and had a meal.
“This is a bit of a surprise,” he said once they had their coffees and had ordered the veggie-filled omelets the place was famous for, minus onions for Gavin and both with bacon and wheat toast on the side.
She couldn’t tell if he was pleasantly surprised or unpleasantly surprised. “Yeah. It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing.”
After tossing and turning all night.
“You okay? From yesterday, I mean?”
“I’m good, really. But it’s the kind of situation that gets you thinking about things, and I was thinking about the things I said after delivering that baby the other day.”
He leaned back in his chair and grinned. “You mean the part where you implied I don’t take my job seriously?”
Yeah, that part. And why did he have to have such a great smile? “See, you’re doing it right now.”
“Doing what?”
“That smile that probably makes women’s pants fall off.”
The eyebrow went up before he pushed his chair back a few inches. Then he bent over, as if he was picking up a dropped fork. A second later, he sat up and pulled his chair back in.
“What are you doing?”
“I was just checking to see if your pants fell off.” The lift of his left shoulder matched the curve of his mouth. “I guess I’ll have to try harder.”
Oh, god, please don’t. Cait had never been so thankful she wasn’t prone to blushing because if she was, her face would be as red as the ketchup bottle. She’d come here to apologize for being a bitch to him and, before she’d even addressed her hostility toward him—or at least the part she was willing to admit to—he was implying he’d like to get her out of her pants.
It was obviously just a habit, she told herself. Gavin was probably just a natural charmer who never had to try. And if he did have to try harder...well, what man could resist a challenge?
She tried to focus on that assumption about his character so she wouldn’t be able to focus on the fact he could probably make her pants fall off without too much of an effort at all. Of all the people she came across on a daily basis, she would have bet he was the last person who had a shot, but there was something about his carefree confidence that might grate on her nerves when they were at a scene, but was sexy as hell when he was sitting across a table from her. And between the added stress and reduced privacy that moving back home had brought, she was barely managing to have a social life, never mind a sex life.
She needed to get this conversation back on track, though, before he tried to up his game. “I want to apologize to you.”
“There’s no need for an apology. Believe it or not, the pants don’t always fall down. It happens. Not often, but it happens.” The expression on his face was almost as cocky as the words, and she was about to tell him to forget it—he was exactly who she’d originally thought he was—when he dimmed the high-wattage grin to a sheepish smile and shook his head. “I’m joking. And yes, I do that too much.”
“Why?”
“Why not? I like to laugh. This is the only life I know for sure I’m getting, so I’m going to have fun while I’m living it.” He looked at her, his expression more sincerely thoughtful than she’d thought him capable of. “Maybe sometimes I take it too far. I don’t even know how many times in my life my mom’s told me I don’t know when to quit. But that doesn’t mean I’m not doing my job.”
Cait forced herself not to look away from his direct gaze. “That’s what I wanted to apologize for. What I said the other day, when we delivered that baby, was out of line. You obviously take your job seriously and rumor has it you’re good at it. I’m sorry I said that.”
She half-expected him to make some kind of smart-ass remark or gloat in some way, but the smile he gave her was warm and genuine. “Thank you. I accept your apology. And I’m sorry, too. I might have pushed your buttons a little on purpose because you’re so easy to rile up.”
“I am not.”
“You’re getting riled right now.”
He wasn’t wrong, but he hopefully hadn’t guessed on how many levels he got her wound up. She was going to say something about being sensitive to him pushing her buttons, but she couldn’t figure out how to say it without the possibility of the conversation spinning into innuendo.
“So tell me something, Cait. Since we’re on the subject, why don’t you like me?”
“I don’t know you well enoughback seatlike you.”
“Okay.” He fiddled with his coffee mug, turning it in his hands. “I’ll put it another way. I’ve wondered why you react to me in a way that makes other people ask me what I did to piss you off.”
“They do not.” When he just stared at her, one eyebrow raised, she looked away first. “What did you say?”
“You mean what I tell them I did to piss you off? I breathed.”
Ouch. But that was why she’d invited him to breakfast in the first place—to apologize and talk through whatever their problem was. Whatever her problem was. “I don’t know what it is about you that rubs me the wrong way.”
So much for keeping the conversation innuendo-free, she thought, barely stopping herself from slapping her palm over her face.
“Pent-up sexual tension between us?”
She laughed, because she knew he was joking. Or she was fairly sure he was, at least. “You’re cocky.”
“I’m confident.”
“Same thing.”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
She propped her chin on her hands. “Tell me the difference, then.”
“Confidence is believing the guys I’m with and I have enough training and skill to go into a burning building and get everybody back out again. Cockiness is running into a burning building without fear because, hey, nothing’s going to happen to me because I’m just that awesome.”
“So fear is the difference between confident and cocky?”
“Maybe. I don’t think I’d want to face a fire with somebody who doesn’t fear and respect it.” He shrugged. “That’s really it, I guess. The difference between confident and cocky is respect. For the situation. For the people you’re in that situation with.”
They paused while the server—who was about her mom’s age—set massive omelets in front of them. Her blond ponytail swung as she turned her head to Gavin and gave him a brilliant smile. “No onions for you, of course.”
He returned that smile with a high-wattage one of his own. “Thank you, ma’am. I appreciate it.”
When the server was out of earshot, Cait paused in the act of cutting her omelet to lean forward. “I hope she makes it back to the kitchen before her pants fall off.”
He laughed, and Cait wasn’t surprised when the other women in the room stopped eating to turn his way. She would have, too, if she didn’t have a front-row seat to the way he threw back his head a little and his eyes crinkled. “I think I’m probably a little young for her.”
“Calling her ma’am probably cued her in.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “I call every woman ma’am. I can’t help it and I blame my mom. Or rather, my dad, since he’s the one who cuffed me every time I forgot.”
She let that sink in for a moment. He called every woman ma’am. And the day it had been her on the receiving end of it was the first day they’d met. She was a stranger and he used the term out of habit. Not because he regarded her as some possibly older woman he had no interest in dating.
Then he put a forkful of omelet in his mouth and made a long, low sound that vibrated through Cait’s body. Her mind offered up a dubbing of that sound over the fleeting memory of his naked body over hers from her dream, and she had to look down at her plate.
She had to admit that she’d found the Gavin who’d irked her sexy. And the intense, competent Gavin from yesterday was even sexier. This Gavin, relaxed and just being himself, was dangerously sexy, though. He was jacking up the attraction from okay, he’s hot to I want this man in my bed now.
“So, your brother and Jeff Porter’s daughter are about the same age, huh?” he asked between bites, and she needed a second to wrap her head around his question. She wasn’t sure if it was her suddenly rampaging hormones or the abrupt subject change.
“Yeah, I guess. He doesn’t talk about his friends much, so I don’t know if they know each other.” She knew Jeff Porter was on Gavin’s crew, and she’d actually seen his daughter around a few times. “They must go to school together, I guess. Why?”
“Just wondering. This neighborhood’s a small town in a big city, so I just assume we must know some of the same people.”
They did, as they discovered over the rest of the time it took them to eat. Not many, since their parents had different circles of friends and went to different churches, which often made the difference in the who-knew-who game. But it was a light, engaging conversation and by the time she pushed her almost-empty plate away, Cait was feeling more relaxed than she had in a long time.
“I’m glad you stopped by this morning,” Gavin said after wiping his mouth with a napkin and tossing it onto his plate. “Good food. Good company. Not a bad way to start the day.”
“I agree.” She reached for the check sitting on the edge of the table, but he was faster. “Gavin, I invited you. Hand it over.”
“That’s not how it works.”
“That’s exactly how it works. I invited you, so you’re my guest and it’s my treat.” She reached across the table and held out her hand.
“I was raised to be a gentleman.”
“Which means respecting the lady’s wishes.”
After a few more seconds, he handed over the check and grinned. “You’ve got me there.”
She liked that he didn’t push the issue and insist on paying just because he was the man. And she knew this was the perfect opening for something off-the-cuff like you can get it next time, to let him know she wouldn’t mind doing it again. But she chickened out and then the moment passed.
Once they reached the sidewalk, she realized they were leaving in opposite directions. “Thanks for letting me buy you apology bacon.”
“Thank you for breakfast. And I’m glad we cleared the air.” He tucked his hands in his pockets, lifting a shoulder against the cold breeze. “You know, you should go to Kincaid’s Pub sometime. I think you’d like it.”
“I’d like to. I’ve heard a lot about it.” She wasn’t sure if he was hinting around that he’d like to meet her there for a drink or not, but she found herself hoping he was.
“Shoot me a text and I’ll meet you there if I’m free.”
And that answered that.
“Sounds good. See you around,” she said, with a smile on her face, and then she turned and walked away before the disappointment could show through.
* * *
“What’s up with you and that EMT?”
Gavin didn’t answer for a few seconds, trying to decide how to play it. Grant had become his best friend, so he wanted to be honest with him, but if Gavin opened that door even a crack, Grant was going to barge right through it.
It was Friday, and he hadn’t talked to Cait since Tuesday, but he’d sure thought about her a lot. And done a lot of kicking himself in the ass for not having a way to contact her.
He hadn’t been able to judge whether she’d enjoyed the breakfast as much as he had. He thought she had, but there was a chance she’d see it merely as what she’d said it was—apology bacon. And because of that possibility, he hadn’t come up with a smooth way to get her number. There were other ways he could get it, he was sure. They had some contacts in common. But that would make people ask questions, and it wouldn’t be cool. If she wanted him to have her info, she’d give it to him herself.
In the meantime, he was left thinking about how badly he’d screwed up his shot.
“What makes you think anything’s up?” he asked, since Grant was still waiting for an answer.
“I saw the way you two looked at each other the other day, when she was on standby.” Grant snorted. “I was waiting for the flashover.”
Gavin definitely didn’t know what to say to that. He could barely admit to himself that the lingering eye contact with Cait had felt like imminent flashover—when a room got so hot everything burst into flames—so he didn’t like knowing others could actually see the simmering chemistry between them.
“Just ask her out already,” Grant pushed. “If there’s something there, go with it. If not, as least I won’t feel like I need to carry a fire extinguisher with me if I’m going to be around the two of you.”
“I tried,” he finally confessed. “I blew it.”
“What? You? You never blow it.”
“Bullshit. But I told her she should stop by the pub and text me so I could meet her there.”
“Good plan. Kind of a date, but not so obvious it’s awkward if she’s not interested. Ball’s in her court.”
“Yeah. But what I actually said was I could meet her there if I’m free.”
Grant managed to make a face-palm into a huge dramatic production. “Women love when a guy wants to hook up if, you know, he’s got nothing better to do.”
“Trust me, I get it. I was trying to figure out how to make it sound casual while also reminding her my work shifts aren’t like hers, and I opened my mouth before I nailed it down. By the time what I said really registered, she’d said goodbye and was walking away.”
“It’s not like you to choke like that. Makes me wonder if you’re looking for your next hookup, or if you actually are really into her and your brain doesn’t know how to handle that.”
Gavin was pretty sure it went beyond wanting some action and Cait being hot. There was no shortage of attractive women in Boston. He wasn’t hard on the eyes, either, and there were places he could go—especially in his BFD T-shirt—and not have any trouble finding company for a night or two.
There was just something about Cait.
But he wasn’t ready to explore that possibility out loud with anybody just yet. Even his best friend. “I don’t know, man.”
“You need to go out and blow off some steam. Drink some beers. Maybe, if you’re really lucky, you’ll meet a woman who’ll take your mind off whatever the hell’s wrong with you. Take a wingman and go find some distraction.”
There wasn’t a woman alive who could distract him from Cait Tasker, but Gavin sure as hell wasn’t going to admit that out loud. “What do you mean, take a wingman? You’re my wingman, dumbass.”
“I have a date,” Grant said. “Maybe a girlfriend.”
“No shit. How did I not know this? Who is she?”
“Her name’s Wren. It’ll be our third date...kind of. And I know it’s too soon to tell, but you might need a new wingman, Gavin.”
Gavin stared at the guy, trying to wrap his head around it. How the hell had his best friend not only been dating a woman, but maybe the woman, and he hadn’t heard about it? “Kind of your third date? What the hell does that even mean?”
“She’s not... It’s hard to explain. I think maybe she’s been through some stuff so she’s not looking for a relationship. But she likes me and we’ve had coffee a couple of times. Dinner’s next.” He shrugged. “I really like her, so I’m letting her set the pace, you know?”
“Like what kind of stuff?”
“I don’t know. I mean, nothing horrible, I don’t think. But sometimes when she laughs, her face and her eyes light up, and it makes me realize how often that light isn’t there. Or it’s, like, subdued or something.”
That was deep, coming from Grant, but before he could ask more questions about the mystery woman, the tone sounded for an MVA with visible smoke and they were hauling ass.
* * *
The last thing Cait wanted to do after a busy Saturday shift was make her way to the North End, but a busy professional and personal life left her best friend very narrow windows of time for herself.
As it was, squeaking out enough time for tonight’s dinner and wine at their favorite Italian restaurant had taken three weeks to nail down, so Cait didn’t cancel. She sucked it up and showered and changed quickly before heading to the T. There was no way she was driving through the city when she didn’t have to.
When she checked in at the hostess’s podium, she was pointed in the direction of the table where they’d seated Monica. After a quick hug, Cait sat down across from her and took a sip of the white wine Monica must have ordered for her when she got her 5 mins away text.
“This is so good,” she said, forcing herself to set it down. First she’d quench her immediate thirst with the glass of ice water and then she’d savor the wine. Being drunk on the T wasn’t in Cait’s future plans.
“I didn’t think you’d mind if I picked the wine.”
Cait laughed. She knew nothing about wines and the one time she’d tried to order for them, Monica had intervened before the server could walk away. “Did you order food, too?”
“Of course not. I know how you like to argue with yourself for at least ten minutes and then order something totally different when the server comes.”
“You know me so well. I hope you haven’t been here long.”
Cait and Monica Price had only been friends for a couple of years, but they’d become almost as close as sisters since striking up a conversation in line at a coffee shop because they were both carrying the same book. Actually, as far as Cait was concerned, they were closer than sisters, since she and Michelle weren’t exactly the best of friends.
Monica worked for an insurance company in one of the tall glass buildings in the Back Bay, using her impressive math skills and industry data to make educated guesses about when prospective insurees might die.
“I’ve only been here about ten minutes,” Monica said. “The in-laws are visiting, so I left them to their thing and snuck out to get my nails done before dinner.”
She flashed her hand, showing her perfect, long nails in a fresh coat of a shimmery cream color that looked amazing against Monica’s dark skin, and Cait felt a pang of envy. “Gorgeous as always. I love the color.”
“We should get a manicure together sometimes, although I’d pick a bright red or dark purple for you.”
Cait laughed. “If I got that color you’re wearing, I’d look like I had weird fingers with no nails, but I’m not really a red nails or lips kind of person.”
“Only because you haven’t tried it. I think dark purple, though. We should try to schedule it.”
“You already know what I’m going to say.”
Monica sighed. “Yeah, but I’m going to keep trying.”
“Enough manicure talk.” It wasn’t going to happen. Cait kept her nails short and neat and clean, and that was enough for her. And it wasn’t really the job. There were other EMTs with nails maybe not as long as Monica’s but as beautifully manicured. She just didn’t have the patience for the manicure process, or the process of chipping and peeling she inevitably had to deal with.
Monica picked up her phone and, with a few taps, pulled up the list of things she’d been making to talk about when they had the chance. Cait always laughed at her extreme organization skills, but Monica often had the last laugh when she’d get an oh, shit, I forgot to tell you this text message from Cait after they’d parted ways.
They gave work about thirty seconds. They were both still working and could afford dinner and wine, and that was that. Monica’s husband was still being a great husband and dad while earning obscene amounts of money in real estate. They cooed over pics of Monica’s one-year-old daughter, and then spent time talking about books and movies that it seemed like neither of them had time for. Most of that was covered on a regular basis during their many phone calls while one or both of them was sitting in traffic.
“Okay,” Monica said, looking at her phone. “Next on the list is your sex life.”
Cait rolled her eyes. “You can delete that one.”
“Come on. Are you even trying?”
“Not really. Though there might be a glimmer of hope on that particular horizon.”
That got Monica’s attention. She leaned forward, setting her phone on the table. “Holy shit, girl. You’ve got a date?”
“I don’t think so. No.” She frowned. “Maybe?”
“Maybe?”
“Gavin said he’d meet me at the bar they go to if he’s free. Not that he wants to take me there and buy me a drink or something.”
The disappointment on Monica’s face confirmed her take on it. “You are way too awesome to put up with that shit. If he wants you, he can come to you. But you do need to get out, Cait. You’ve put your life on hold for your family, which I admire, but it was supposed to be temporary.”
“It won’t be much longer.” She hoped.
“You said that two months ago. You need to start taking care of you. Your mom will see that and figure out that, for you to live your life, she needs to take care of hers. And Carter.”
“She wants to. She’s trying.”
“Was she like this when your dad died?”
Cait took a sip of her wine and shrugged. “I was only three, so I don’t really remember. I know her sister was around a lot, but she’s in Florida now and they’re not as close as they used to be. Maybe having a teenager makes it harder than having little girls who don’t really know what’s going on, but at least have each other. And cancer killed my dad, so his death wasn’t a total shock, like Duke’s was.”
“That’s probably a lot of it. But, look, life goes on. She needs to accept that so you can get on with yours.”
“I know,” Cait said, because she did. But it wasn’t that easy.
“I think you should go to that bar when you know Gavin’s going to be there, and ignore him. Or be nice, but find some other guy to get busy with. That’ll show him what he missed out on.”
Cait grinned. “Maybe I should.”
She wouldn’t. Kincaid’s Pub was, at its heart and soul, a firefighters’ bar. While it got street traffic, Cait was sure that at any given time, most of the customers would have some connection to Gavin. If she “got busy” with a firefighter he knew, it would kill any chance she had of getting busy with him. And she wasn’t sure yet if that was something she wanted to do.
But she was definitely leaning toward yes.