Beep-beep-beep!

The microwave calls for me like my ma used to yell out the door at us that dinner was ready. Except she never served up rubbery Hungry Man dinners. In fact, she’d have a fit if someone plopped one of these trays down on her table and called it a meal. If the lumpy mashed potatoes with a thick, crusty skin covering them wasn’t bad enough, she’d lose her mind at the so-called dessert. The soggy chocolate brownie looks like something one of my sisters would’ve pulled out of her Easy Bake oven. That’s if she used the wrong ingredients to make it. And the oven exploded.

I pop the door open and pluck the hot tray from inside. Steam curls up over the edge of the plastic sheet draped on top and it stings my fingertips.

“Ouch.” I drop it onto the counter and Desi just shakes his head at me.

“Why the fuck do you eat those, man? That’s not food.”

I shrug and try not to enviously eye up his meal. Desi is one of those guys who preps all his meals ahead of time. But he doesn’t just throw a bunch of chicken breasts in Tupperware with some steamed broccoli and call it a day. He cooks up stuff like lasagna or ginger beef stir fry in big batches and then freezes them in portions. His food always smells amazing and, from the times I’ve stolen little samples, it tastes even better. The chicken in gravy with biscuits on the side on his plate are making my mouth water.

“We’re not all five-star chefs or whatever. I don’t even know how you find time to cook like that.”

“I told you before, if you didn’t spend all your downtime binge watching Netflix, you’d have tons of time to cook. I can teach you a few easy recipes,” he offers for probably the thousandth time.

“I’ll tell ya what, how about you come over and do up one of those meals for me?” I smirk.

“Now we’re talking. It’s about time you came to your senses. What do you wanna learn to cook? Pasta? It’s pretty easy.” He’s way too eager to jump all over this.

“Whatever you think, you’ll be the one cooking it. Just make sure you don’t make too much racket while you do it. I don’t want you interrupting my shows.” I laugh.

“Nope. No way. Keep eating that garbage then. I’m not your servant.”

“Awww, but wouldn’t you just look so cute in one of those little French maid costumes, though.” I smirk.

“Yeah? Well, maybe your mom will let me borrow hers after I take it off her.” He knocks me down a peg.

“You keep my ma outta this, Desi. She’d never be caught dead with trash like you.” I bust his chops.

“I dunno. If you learned how to ‘cook’”—he curls his fingers into air quotes—“from her, she’s probably used to the smell of garbage.”

“Just for that, I’m taking this.” I lunge at his plate and grab a biscuit, shoving it in my mouth in one bite. “Mmmm, fanks a lot. Dis is so gud.” I talk with my mouth full and he scowls at me.

“Enjoy it. Eating something that tastes that awesome is only gonna make that pile of crap taste even worse.” He nods to my sad dish of supposed food and plucks his plate up, walking over to the table.

My shoulders slump a little as I swallow the last of his stolen biscuit and join him with my meal. I strain myself not to make a face as I take the first bite. Desi was right, it just tastes so much fucking worse now. I stab my fork into the mushy piles and decide to concentrate on something else.

“So, thanks for ruining my moment with the new girl. What was her name? Kelly?”

“Yeah, she’s pretty hot, huh?”

“Understatement of the year, bud. I hope you didn’t scare her away forever with your little spray down routine.”

“Maybe I’ll have to go over and properly apologize. She might need a big, strong man to help her move her stuff in.” Desi’s eyes twinkle as he holds out his arm and flexes his bicep.

“Well, if that’s the case, why would she want you over there? Clearly, I’d be the guy for that job.” I flex both my arms jokingly.

“Sounds like she’d have a decision to make, huh?” Desi looks at me and the sparkle fades from his eyes as he gets serious. “But I think we learned with Tara that it isn’t worth it, right?”

It was just over a year ago that we both had our eyes on Tara. She really played it up, stringing us both along for months and trying to pit us against each other. I’m ashamed to admit that sometimes it worked. Then after messing with our heads and our friendship for close to four months, she just dropped us both like hot potatoes. Only to get married to our fire chief less than two weeks later.

“You’re right. Lesson learned. No chick comes between us,” I agree. “Look don’t touch, right?”

“Right.”

Suddenly, exhaustion hits me and the already bad taste of my food just turns to ashes on my tongue. I might not be able to go for Kelly, but that doesn’t mean I can’t think about her. Maybe I should grab a shower before bed and relive how that water sprayed down over her face. I can get a lot of mileage out of how sexy she looked standing there with her completely see-through shirt, as annoyance pinched her face up so cute I just wanted to kiss it.

“I think I’m gonna get ready for bed.” I clear my throat and stand up. Tossing my TV dinner in the trash, I quickly rinse off my fork and head out of the kitchen.

“Sounds good, man, have a good night,” Desi calls after me.

I walk the familiar path down to my bunk and grab my stuff for the shower. Yep, a little “me time” is exactly what I need to relax. Jerking one off down the drain is the perfect way to get Kelly off my brain. Otherwise I’ll just start obsessing over her. It would be hard not to. With her rich, brown doe eyes and long dark hair, she looked soulful and sweet. I’d be lying if I said it was her hair that did me in, though. Her damned curves were unforgettable. Her tits were gorgeous, the way the fabric clung to them, making each breath she took almost pornographic. And that ass, well, let’s just say I need that shower now.

Wee-ahh! Wee-ahh!

Shit.

Muscle memory kicks in and I drop my towel and shampoo on the bunk. That’s the alarm. There’s no time for showers or dirty thoughts. Right now the only thing that matters is saving lives.