January swung the sledgehammer in her grasp until the deck railing in front of her collapsed with a satisfying crack. Adjusting the safety goggles that both Finn and firefighter-slash-contractor Ryan Dempsey had insisted she wear, she wiped her brow with her forearm as she paused to catch her breath.

“You okay?” Finn asked, walking over from the scrap pile he’d just gathered for the dumpster to pass her a bottle of water from the nearby cooler. “Here. It was hotter than hell’s kitchen today.”

January squinted at the dusky evening sky, sliding her safety goggles to the top of her head. “Yeah, but I haven’t been out here for a full four days like you.”

Still, she uncapped the frosty bottle for a nice long draw, because A) she really was thirsty; and B) she also wasn’t stupid. She might only be clocking a few fix-it hours after work every night, but she could still wind up with heat exhaustion if she wasn’t careful.

Finn lifted a damply T-shirted shoulder, and God, she would never get enough of those muscles, clothed or otherwise. “Ah, the work isn’t so bad. Plus, I’ve had help.”

He’d no sooner finished his sentence when Dempsey rounded the corner from the front of the house with a crooked smile on his lips. “Hey. I resemble that remark,” the firefighter said cheerfully.

“Yeah, I’m glad you do,” Finn countered past his grin. “Because I’d be pretty hosed trying to replace both this deck and the rickety-ass front porch on my own.”

“Ah, they’re a piece of cake when you’ve got enough able bodies helping out. Speaking of which”—Dempsey let his bright green stare move over the small, somewhat cleared backyard before turning back to look at Finn—“it’s getting late, and you put in a helluva day with getting this yard in shape. Why don’t you let me and Gates finish tearing down this railing so you two can get out of here?”

January’s brows lifted. “Are you sure?”

“As shooting,” Dempsey said with a brotherly wink. “Come on, J. You’ve been busting your butt on the fundraiser all week, and anyway, your boy here is paying me. The least I can do is spring you both with enough time to have a late meal together.”

A flush crept up her cheeks at the more-than-friends implication, but Finn just crossed the grass to shake Ryan’s hand like nothing-doing.

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

Dempsey laughed, tipping his navy blue RFD baseball hat in Finn’s direction. “Don’t thank me yet. When we’ve got the full crew here on Saturday, pizza and beer is on you.”

“Just for that, I am leaving now,” Finn laughed back.

After a round of goodbyes to both Dempsey and one of Seventeen’s other rescue squad firefighters, Tyler Gates, January traded in her sledgehammer and safety goggles for the keys to her MINI Cooper. Still slightly sweaty, she slid behind the wheel, trying and failing to hide her smile as Finn origamied his way into the passenger seat.

“Whoever designed this thing definitely didn’t have professional athletes in mind,” he grumbled. “Or most of the human population, for that matter. Seriously, how are you even a little comfortable right now?”

“Um, because I’m not six three. You could always go back to the car rental agency,” she teased. He’d returned the SUV when he’d extended his stay in Remington, grabbing rides to the house every day from either her or one of the guys on Dempsey’s crew. “They might have a stretch limo. Or—oooh! A monster truck.”

Mischief flickered through Finn’s whiskey-colored stare, sending an unexpected and oh-so-delicious shot of heat between January’s hips. “Funny. On second thought I’ll stick with this. Being in close quarters with you has its advantages.” He turned to gesture to her laptop bag, which was stuffed so full, it easily took over more than half the back seat. “Although we’re in a little closer than usual tonight. Not that I’m complaining, but…”

Just like that, her smile disappeared and her belly filled with a whole lot of ugh. “Sorry. This fundraiser is killing me. It’s actually a good thing Dempsey kicked us out, because I’ve probably got hours of work ahead of me.”

“Anything I can help with?” Finn asked, and she shot him a quick, appreciative glance from the driver’s seat.

“Not unless you can come up with a theme idea that will make this event a blockbuster, and believe me, I’ve tried. Casino night, masquerade ball, wine tasting—they’re all completely played out.”

The face he made told January she’d been right to cross the themes off her list. “Yeah, no offense, but they do sound pretty overdone.”

“I know.” She blew out a frustrated breath. “The crappy part is, if I have any prayer of getting the logistics in place, I’m out of time. I guess I’ll just have to pick the least boring theme and give it my best shot.”

Finn sat back, watching the traffic around them silently for a few minutes before he said, “I know you said the patrons are Remington’s elite, but this is a fundraiser for firefighters, who are a lot more laid back. So what if you went outside the box for a theme?”

Not wanting to discard anything off the bat, January turned the idea over in her mind before answering. “It would be risky. Yes, the fundraiser is for firefighters, and of course, they all attend to socialize with the donors. But it’s always been a formal event.”

“Yeah, but it’s also a formal event that’s losing its effectiveness.”

Well, shit. Of course there was that. “True. I’m just not sure what I could come up with that would be different and fun, yet still a big enough draw to appeal to potential donors.”

“What about a sports theme?” Finn asked, a slow, sexy grin hanging in the words. “Specifically, oh, I don’t know. Hockey?”

Her brows creased in confusion. It wasn’t a terrible idea—in fact, it was pretty damned good. Except… “I only know one hockey player.”

“Maybe. But I know lots of them.”

Shock sent January’s heart smacking against her rib cage, excitement kicking it even faster as she pulled over to properly stare at Finn.

“Are you kidding me?”

She heard the gracelessness of the question only once it was out, but Finn just laughed.

“I’ve spent three years in the league, and four more scratching my way up the ladder to get there. I’m pretty sure I’m serious about knowing a guy or two…dozen.”

“Okay, that was a stupid question. What I meant was, this event is just over three weeks from now,” January said, her brain fighting for control over her giddiness as she tried to consider all the variables. “Do you really think your teammates would be willing to drop everything and come out to Remington for a fundraiser?”

Finn shrugged, his T-shirt shushing against the MINI’s passenger seat. “Realistically, I’m sure not everyone will be able to make it, but we’re in the off-season, remember? A lot of the guys on the Rage are probably at loose ends, and they’re always up for a good time. Plus, this is a great cause. I bet if I threw it out there, most of them would be up for it.”

Oh God. Oh God, with the draw of a Cup-winning team in attendance, this just might work. “We could go with a whole game day theme. Pennants, trading cards for autographs, the works. And we could make the event really laid back—no tuxedos or fancy dresses, just relaxed, casual fun to set the mood. Team jerseys, jeans, ball caps. Oh!” A fresh thought popped into January’s head, and yes! Perfect. “What if we organized a silent auction too? That way, even the players who can’t make it in person can still donate signed memorabilia or other items if they want to help out.”

“That’s a great idea,” he said. “We do things like that for local charities a lot, so I’m sure you’d get a decent response, even from the guys who can come.”

Another wave of ideas burst through her mind, each one building off the one before it. “With a game day theme, we can go low key on catering, which will free up more of the budget for advertising.”

“A couple of the guys on the team have pretty big social media followings. I bet you could sweet-talk them into making a post or two for the cause.” Finn paused, a tiny frown tugging at the corners of his mouth through the evening shadows. “The only part of this that sucks is that you’re still stuck with Chase Manor. The place doesn’t exactly scream ‘game day’.”

January’s brain launched one last idea, and for a second, she nearly balked. She was already taking a risk with this theme. A change in venue—especially this change in venue—wouldn’t just be risky. It would be downright crazy. But she’d already tried playing it safe for this fundraiser, and the only thing it had gotten her was a bucketful of blah.

Finn was right. The old way wasn’t working. If she wanted to change things—if she wanted to raise the money for that fire equipment—she was going to have to go all in.

“Chase Manor might not scream ‘game day’, but I know a place that does. Can you do me a favor and hand me my cell phone? I’ve got a call to make.”

* * *

January wrapped her fingers around the handle of a sledgehammer and swung as hard as she could for the second time in a week. But this time, she had an audience, and striking out in front of every firefighter plus both paramedics at Station Seventeen was so not on her agenda.

“Wow. Way to get it done, January!” Dempsey said after the rotted-out section of porch railing fell to the grass below with a heavy thump.

“Remind me not to ever piss you off,” added Shae McCullough as she sent a definite look of approval in January’s direction from the spot where she stood in the side yard. January was tempted to point out that Shae trained as hard as any of her male engine-mates and could probably out-sledgehammer the hell out of any porch railing on the planet, but before she could say so much as a word, Kennedy stuck her head through one of the wide-open windows on the front of the house.

“Of course January’s a badass. Look at the company she keeps. Also—hello—Sarge’s daughter.”

A chorus of murmured agreement floated through the muggy Saturday morning air, and finally, January laughed. “Okay, okay. While I appreciate the ringing endorsement of my badassery”—she paused for a dusty curtsy on the dustier porch boards—“we have a ton of work to do. If you’re not sure what project you’re on, there’s a clipboard in the kitchen with a detailed list, or you can check in with me or Dempsey, too. And make sure you hydrate! I know Parker and Quinn are paramedics, but don’t make them work on their day off.”

Everyone in the group scattered to their various posts. Grinning, January turned to pick up her sledgehammer and get to work on the next section of the porch railing, but the sight of Finn, leaning against the front doorframe and giving her a sexy, smirk-filled up and down look, stopped her in her tracks.

“You made a project schedule?” he asked, one shadowy brow lifting toward his just-unkempt-enough-to-be-scorching-hot hairline. The muscles in his shoulders flexed and released beneath his dark gray T-shirt as he straightened to a full stand, and heat flooded through her at the thought of what those shoulders had looked like less than two hours ago when she’d wrapped her arms around them and screamed his name.

Focus. On something other than Finn’s insanely sculpted body and all the magical things he can do with it, please and thank you. “Oh! Um, yes,” January said blinking herself back to the reality of the front porch. “Dempsey said assignments would be helpful, and these guys are used to that sort of thing from working at Seventeen. Plus, looking at the logistics of each project to determine how much manpower will be needed, then dividing everything up according to experience and each firefighter’s preference was easy.”

Finn’s laughter came out in a soft rumble. “As easy as making up your own filing system? Or single-handedly planning a massive fundraiser? Or—”

“Are you making fun of my organizational skills, Finnegan?” She slid one hand to her denim-clad hip to punctuate the sass in her question, but he shocked the hell out of her by closing the space between them and pulling her against his chest.

“No. I’m thanking you. You rallied all your friends and got them to fork over an entire Saturday to help me fix this place up. Not a lot of people would’ve done that for me.” He stopped. Tipped his head in thought. Amended with, “Okay, no one would’ve done that for me, especially not with a plate as full as yours is right now. I’m really grateful.”

An “oh” crossed her lips, more sigh than actual word. “Well, you’re helping me with the fundraiser, too.”

Finn shrugged. “I made a suggestion and a couple of phone calls.”

“You made a couple dozen phone calls,” January corrected. “And you even reached out to the two guys you knew from the minors who play for the Rogues now so we could have some local pros in attendance, and add a whole bunch of items for the silent auction.”

“Ah, those guys were happy to help the RFD.”

She pressed up to the toes of her work boots, brushing a kiss over Finn’s lips even though they stood in broad daylight on the porch, where any of the firefighters or contractors could mosey on by and see them. “Yeah, but all of those guys on both the Rage and the Rogues were also happy to help you. The truth is, I never would’ve come up with the idea for a game night theme or the balls to take the risk for something new if you hadn’t encouraged me. If we raise the money for the new equipment—”

“When,” Finn insisted, and January gave in with a laugh.

“When we raise enough money for the new equipment, it’ll be in large part because of you.”

Lowering his mouth to hers, he returned her quick kiss with a slower, more seductive version. “Guess we make a decent team, huh?”

“Mmm. Guess so. Too bad we have work to do,” she murmured, her knees getting decidedly less sturdy as Finn’s lips lingered by her ear.

“Nah.” He nipped her earlobe, just hard enough to make her shiver before stepping back from her with a devastatingly sexy half-smile. “It’ll motivate me to get things done as fast as possible so we can go back to the Plaza and make very good use of those showerheads…especially the detachable one.”

January’s chin snapped to attention, along with some of her more southerly parts. “What are you waiting for?” she asked, half kidding, half serious as a heart attack. “Hurry up and grab your tool belt so we can knock this porch down as fast as possible, hockey boy!”

Letting her gaze linger on his ass for just a second as he descended the porch boards with a cocky “yes ma’am,” January turned back toward the sledgehammer she’d left leaning up against the house.

And let out a yelp of surprise when she came face to grinning face with Kennedy in the window.

“Girl.” Her friend’s jet black hair swung over the straps of her tank top and her tattooed shoulders as she shook her head, her grin morphing into a laugh. “You two are so frigging cute together, I can’t even tease you and enjoy it.”

“Eavesdropping isn’t polite, you know,” January groused, although the smile poking at the edges of her mouth probably erased any zing the words could’ve carried.

Not that Kennedy would have been deterred either way. “Okay, first of all, I think we can agree that proper etiquette has never been in my fucking wheelhouse,” she said. “Secondly, I can’t help what I hear if I’m on paint duty and the window is open.”

January folded like a bad hand in a high-stakes poker game. “Fair enough. But what’s going on between me and Finn is totally casual. We’re far from cute.”

“Au contraire.” Kennedy pointed her paintbrush at January with a less-than-ladylike snort. “You and Finn are ridiculously cute, and I’m not the only one who thinks so. Shae and Quinn agree. You two are totally the ‘it’ couple right now.”

“You talked about this with Shae and Quinn?” January asked, but only after she’d picked her jaw up off the porch boards. Okay, so she and Finn hadn’t been hiding what was going on between them, but that was only because there was nothing serious to hide.

Her expression softening, Kennedy lowered both her paintbrush and her voice. “Only in passing this morning. I didn’t realize it would bother you. I mean, you really do seem happy with Finn.”

“I am,” January said, hearing the words before she’d realized she was going to admit them out loud. “But really, we’re not the ‘it’ couple. We’re not any sort of couple. It’s just some great sex and short-term fun.”

“Are you sure?” The question arrived without judgment—Kennedy had never been the type—and for one bold, delicious second, January wanted to say no. They’d spent every possible minute together since his day with the Cup, and each one had made her want the next one all the more. But the condo she’d bought last year, the job she worked hard at and loved, the friends and family she loved even more, all of those things were in Remington, where she not only lived, but had wanted to live for her whole life.

Where Finn hadn’t wanted to live for the last seven years, to the point that he’d come back to cut his last remaining ties once and for all.

“Yes,” January said, nodding to hammer the word home. “Finn lives in New Orleans for part of the year, and travels all over the country—not to mention half of Canada—for the other part. And it’s definitely no secret that I belong here.”

Kennedy looked through the window, her normally tough demeanor whittled down to a tiny, honest smile. “That you do. I couldn’t imagine the firehouse or the bar—hell, anyplace in the city without you. Still, that doesn’t mean you two couldn’t give a long distance thing a go.”

January’s heart stuttered at the suggestion, but she took a deep breath to wrestle it back in line. She’d known the score ever since Finn had taken her to dinner at La Lumière. Whatever was going on between them was temporary, and she had to be okay with that.

After all, they really were having a great time together, and temporary was better than nothing.

“I don’t think so,” she said, giving her head a firm shake. “Long-distance relationships rarely work out, and even if this one did, eventually, one of us would have to move to be with the other. Finn’s about to sign a new contract which would keep him in New Orleans long-term, and my whole life is here. Keeping things temporary is just for the best.”

For a minute that felt ten times as long, Kennedy said nothing, just examining January with a sharp, bright green stare. But just when January was certain Kennedy would push back in that balls-out way of hers, her friend reached down to reclaim her paintbrush with a nod.

“Okay, girlfriend. If you say temporary is for the best, then it must be for the best.”

“I do,” January answered.

Only the words tasted like a lie.