Hailey:

I can’t go back to sleep after the call. I get into Nick’s truck and drive it home, but though I lie down in the dark, my brain won’t be quiet. It throws up image after image of every fire I’ve seen, every burning building. What if Sean and Nick get hurt? Or worse, if they don’t make it back?

Firefighting is a dangerous job. Lying in the dark, my fantasies about hot firemen seem trivial and wrong.

At four, I give up on sleep entirely. Getting out of bed, I go into the kitchen, avoiding the loose vinyl tile near the coffee maker out of habit. Once the coffee gets brewing, I open my refrigerator and stare at the contents. Cooking always calms my nerves.

Laced in with the fear in my throat is regret. If something were to happen to Sean and Nick… I’ve kept the two men at a distance, afraid that it’ll just be like Matt and Skylar all over again, terrified that dating them will lead to heartbreak.

But it’s snuck up on me anyway. Already, I care far too much about Nick and Sean. I wait with too much eagerness for Monday nights. I look at my phone all the time, to see if one of them has texted me. I can deny it until I’m blue in the face, but feelings have happened.

I chop and sauté vegetables on autopilot. I crack eggs mechanically into a bowl, stopping only when the carton is empty. I gaze at the nine yolks swimming in my yellow ceramic mixing bowl and shake my head at my distraction. I guess I’ll be eating omelets for the next three days.

The thought of food sets my insides churning, so I put my half-prepared meal back into the refrigerator. Filling my mug with coffee, I wander into the living room. Propping open my laptop, I try to work on my Great Banana Bread Bake-off article, but though I stare at the blank screen intently, words don’t appear.

The sky outside is slowly lightening. I glance at the bottom right of my screen. It’s almost six. Nick and Sean have been gone four hours. Surely the fire couldn’t take that long to put out, can it? I navigate to Goat’s official Facebook page, wondering if there’s any news about the blaze there, but there’s just the usual chitchat—the town’s trying to stop Constance Baker from walking her goats through town, someone’s interested in selling their car, blah blah blah.

I’m reading the comments on the goat-walking post when I hear the hum of a car engine. Jumping up, I peer out of the window to see Sean and Nick climb out of Sean’s black Prius. The two men look exhausted and drained, and I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life.

Yup. Feelings have definitely happened.

I race to the door and throw my arm around both of them. “I was freaking out,” I admit, not caring what they think of my display of emotion. “Thank heavens you’re okay.”

“Hey, hey.” Sean’s voice is soothing. “We’re fine. We were never in any danger.”

“I thought you’d be asleep, baby.” Nick strokes my back, his touch gentle and comforting. “I didn’t want to wake you up in the middle of the night.”

I gulp. They’re looking at me with tenderness in their eyes, and I don’t know how to handle it. “Do you want to come in? There’s a pot of coffee. I’ll make breakfast.”

Sean smiles at me, his arm still around my waist. “That sounds fantastic.”

Inside, I busy myself with making the omelets, refusing their offer of help. “Just sit down,” I urge them. “You’ve been up all night.”

Nick covers a yawn with the back of his hand as he refills his cup of coffee. He catches sight of the loose vinyl tile and frowns. “You’re going to trip on this,” he points out, kneeling down and examining it.

“I trip over it on a daily basis,” I admit ruefully. “I keep meaning to do something about it. I guess I need to rip up the vinyl and re-apply the glue?” As much as I want to fix up the cottage, I really am clueless when it comes to home repairs. I’ve been a renter all my adult life. My skills max out at hanging pictures on the wall.

Nick chews on his lip. “They’re in terrible shape. You’d be better off getting rid of them.” He tugs at the offending vinyl, and it peels away, revealing a flash of pink underneath. I flip my omelet, my attention on the food. “Is that ceramic tile underneath?”

Nick pries another vinyl tile loose, and more of the underlying floor is revealed. It’s vintage tile in a pink-and-white checkerboard pattern, and it is bright, beautiful and quirky. Sean takes a look at my face and sees the excitement there. “Want us to pull the vinyl up?” he asks. “It won’t take more than an hour or two.”

“No, you’ve been up all night.”

“We can swing by after we catch some shut-eye,” he persists.

I flush. “No, I couldn’t ask you to do that. I can’t afford to pay you.”

Nick sits down at the table and frowns at me. “Don’t be ridiculous. We don’t charge friends.”

“Especially friends who feed us.” Sean digs into his food, his eyes appreciative. “God, this is good. Thank you, Hailey. I was starving.”

They eat their meal in silence. The wind picks up outside, and I hear a low rumble of thunder. It starts to drizzle. “Gotta love the timing,” Nick says dryly. “We could have used some of that rain last night.”

“What happened?”

Sean’s expression turns bleak. “Fire at Tammy Shepard’s horse farm. We lost a foal. Poor little thing.”

I lace my fingers in his. “That’s terrible.”

He nods. “I don’t think it was an accident.” Belatedly, he seems to realize I’m a reporter. “That’s off the record,” he warns. “It’s just a suspicion. Tammy’s insurance company will look into it.”

“Don’t worry, the Weekly Goat is more interested in banana bread and goat-walking bans.”

Poor Sean. He looks completely drained. As does Nick. We were up late last night, exploring one fantasy after another, and they barely got an hour of sleep before they were called to deal with the blaze. “I don’t like the idea of you driving back to town. Neither of you should be on the road right now.”

Nick’s lips curl into a grin. “You haven’t had much sleep either,” he points out. “Tell you what. Come to bed with us.”

Cuddling is definitely not a part of a casual, friends-with-benefits relationship. I’m swimming in the deep end of the pool now, and I should turn back to safety.

Except I’ve already gone too far.

“Okay.”

Bracketed by Sean and Nick’s warm bodies, I fall fast asleep. When I wake up, it’s three in the afternoon. The rain has stopped, but the sun’s hidden behind a thick cover of clouds.

Thank heavens I have a job with flexible hours.

“Hey.” Sean’s voice is sleepy. “What time is it?”

“Hey yourself.” I don’t know why I’m suddenly shy. “A little after three.”

“We should get out of your hair. I’m sure you have things to do.”

I don’t want them to leave. “There’s no hurry. I can catch up tonight. Do you have to get to work?”

“I have to go into the station at some point today, but there’s no hurry.”

Nick stirs in his sleep, turning toward me and throwing his leg over my thighs. It feels really nice. Up close, I can smell the faint trace of smoke underneath the shampoo and the soap. “Do you like being a firefighter?” This is the first time I think I’ve had a real conversation with either man.

“I do.” He hesitates for a second, then continues. “My father was a raging alcoholic,” he says. “He’d get drunk, and he’d get into fights with everyone. Stepping into a burning building reminds me of the chaos of my childhood, but when I put out the flames, it feels like I’m in control again.” He grimaces. “A therapist will probably have a field day with that.”

“My father hated the idea of my mother working,” I confess. “He thought he made enough money to support the family. Even before I was born, he didn’t allow her to get a job.” My lips twist into a grimace. “My mother wouldn’t leave him, and she wouldn’t go against him. It was as if she’d resigned herself to being unhappy.”

“That’s why you founded Girl Power?”

“I guess.” I shouldn’t be surprised at Sean’s perceptiveness. “I left home when I was seventeen. Haven’t gone back since. We exchange Christmas cards, that’s about it. I’m twenty-seven and unmarried. My parents don’t approve of my life choices.”

Nick stirs again, his eyes falling open. “They should be proud of you,” he says. “You’re an incredibly talented writer. Your passion and enthusiasm come through in every article you write.”

Warmth floods my insides. “Are you just saying this because you’re hoping I’ll make lunch?” I tease.

He chuckles. “Sean’s the one who’s useless in the kitchen. Of course, if you’re offering to cook…”

“I have an idea,” Sean cuts in. “Nick’s right. I can’t cook to save my life. Hailey, will you let us help you with renovations in exchange for home-cooked meals?”

I hesitate. I really could use some help. I don’t know where to begin with some of the improvements I want to make, and the more YouTube videos I watch, the more overwhelmed I get.

Nick gives me a teasing glance as I hesitate. “Does cooking for us violate some kind of feminist code?”

My lips twitch. “Yes, it’s part of the initiation. We have to sit around in a circle and chant about how much we hate men who make us do housework. It just doesn’t seem a very fair trade. Cooking a meal is a lot easier than fixing up a cottage.”

“Not for me,” Sean replies at once. “I can’t make toast without burning it, and I’m really tired of eating microwave meals.”

His grey eyes rest on me, willing me to say ‘yes.' Nick’s watching me too, his body still.

I feel like I’m standing on the threshold of something huge. Our relationship is changing. If they’re going to help me with renovations, if I’m going to be cooking dinner for them, we’re moving away from our once-a-week, sex-only agreement.

Secret confession: I want this. I want to see more of them. After last night, where I lay awake, worrying about Sean and Nick, I can’t lie to myself anymore.

Taking a deep breath, I nod. “It’s a deal.”