I’m so fucked.

How did I not clue in that they were firefighters? Usually, my firefighter radar would kick in within minutes of meeting a guy. I’ve been around them all my life. They have a look. A glow about them that I’ve never been able to ignore. So why not Hammer and Deuce? How did I miss it for them?

The mystery confuses me for the rest of my shift, to the extent that I can barely focus on baking, the thing I’m most passionate about. I usually can go on and on about how much pleasure I get out of baking, but at the moment, I’m so shell-shocked that all my addled mind has room for right now is panicking.

It’s the first day in the four years since I started working in this part-time job that I can’t wait for this shift to end. I need to brainstorm and figure out a game plan. No way in hell can I knowingly work alongside these two men.

After closing up the store and heading out in my car, I’m so out of it that I end up parked outside my best friend, Rosa-Lee’s house. We’ve been friends since grade school, and Rosa-Lee’s the most level-headed person I know—when she’s not been at the sauce on a Friday night, that is. At college, she picked up the habit of drinking a glass of wine at dinner, which turned into a bottle of wine on Friday evenings to unwind after her job as an emergency room nurse at our local hospital. Two years later, her Friday night habit is a full-fledged way of life. It’s her sacred custom. A thing. She won’t go out on a date, go to dinner or catch a movie on Fridays. Her weekend officially starts on Saturday around noon.

Which is why I’m glad as hell that it’s Tuesday.

I walk up to her front door and give it a knock.

“Rosa-Lee, it’s me,” I call out.

“Ember? It’s open. Come on in,” she shouts back from somewhere in her two-bedroom starter house. I open the door, quickly dragging off my winter boots before walking through the warm yet airy-feeling hallways decorated in soft white and pastel peach, Rosa-Lee’s favorite color.

I find her stretched out on her floral sofa, head propped up by a pink paisley fabric-covered cushion as she binges on prime-time TV.

“Hi. You’re out late.” She lifts her head off the cushion, studying me as I drop my car keys on her coffee table at the center of the living room.

“Thank God you’re here,” I groan, raising her feet off the sofa to make room so I can sit beside her. Easing myself down, I let her feet plop down on my lap.

“What happened?”

“I owe you a hundred bucks.”

Her head tilts to one side and stares at me, curious. “What for?”

“That little bet of yours. You won, okay?”

“I won?” She sits up and crosses her legs, completely ignoring the episode of some crime drama she’s watching, and gives me her undivided attention. I don’t watch TV, so I have no idea what it’s called. “What are you talking about? I’d remember making a hundred-dollar bet with you. And I don’t.”

“It’s that bet. The bet. The fifty-dollar one. The only fifty-dollar bet I’ve ever made…because I was sure it’d never happen. Except it happened…twice.”

I know I’m a bit ambiguous, but this is my best friend. Rosa-Lee is the only person who knows me inside out. She even indulged me and came along on my trip to Vegas, the supportive friend that she is. Although she did spend all her waking hours playing the slots while I was up to no good at Club M. Still, that’s what friends are for. A supportive shoulder, a kind ear, and no judging. And for bets like the one I’m talking about. She has to know what bet this is. There was only one.

Finally, the dull, half-asleep glaze in her eyes disappears, replaced by complete and utter alertness.

“No.” Rosa-Lee shakes her head. “You didn’t. Did you really…” she starts to ask, but probably clues into my disheveled appearance and even more crazed body language. “Oh my God, you did! You banged a firefighter! Who?”

“No one you know, thankfully.”

Rosa-Lee pulls her long, curly auburn hair up into a ponytail with the hairband around her wrist, her dark green eyes riveted to me. Then she blinks for the first time since she figured out what this is about. “But wait. Hang on. You said it happened…twice?” She folds her arms. “Honey, you can’t come over here and give me earth-shattering news like that without all the details. Who are they? How did you end up getting your groove on with two? Wait. When did this all happen?”

To give her the simplest of explanations, I lift my hand and let the pendant of my Club M bracelet dangle from my wrist.

She gasps. Her eyes get as wide as saucers.

“No. Fucking. Way.” She picks up the remote and clicks off the TV without glancing away from me. “You met not one, but two members of that club here? In Reno? And they’re firefighters? Come on, Ember. Do me a favor, okay? Rewind to the beginning, to say, fifteen minutes before it all went down. Then start. Don’t leave out a single detail.”

Taking a deep breath to gather my thoughts, I tell her everything. From what I was wearing, to the lunch-time detour to deliver those baked goods in Lockwood. From seeing Hammer and Deuce for the first time, to meeting them behind the truck stop diner, to getting into their SUV. From their rugged looks, to the feel of every ripple of their muscular bodies and chiseled abs. And other parts too. And about my naughty behavior with these two men. At the same time. Only to find out the next day that They. Are. Firefighters.

“I’m so fucked, Rosa-Lee,” I tell her.

“Yes. You were fucked good, all right. Twice in the same lunch hour,” she adds with a giggle. “How was it? God, I’m so jealous!”

“Stop kidding around, bestie. Of course, it was good. Better than good,” I tell her, because I can still feel Deuce and Hammer’s hands on my skin. I force my legs together to stop myself from reliving the pure decadence of Hammer devouring my pussy as Deuce nipped against my neck.

“I can tell,” she croons. “You have that glow. Like back in Vegas.”

“Okay, but can you focus on the real issue for a minute? I’m here for your help.”

“I get that, but we need to devote a few moments to what happened. Humor me for a minute, all right?” She takes my hand and squeezes it. “You fucked two hot guys at the same time, in roughly the same area code as where we live, and they’re your new coworkers. It can’t get any hotter than that. Well, it can, if you keep hooking up with them, say, at work? No! No! Inside one of the fire trucks. Now, that’d be hot.”

I get to my feet and can’t stop myself from pacing in front of her TV. “No. That’d be the end of my career, and theirs, if we’re caught.”

“No, it won’t. You’re overreacting.”

“I’m not. They’ll be working for my dad. In the same freaking firehouse. I’ll have to see them every goddamned day and act like nothing ever happened. It’s way too close to home. I mean, I know they won’t dare say a word to anyone about what happened. They’re seasoned guys. But…maybe I just don’t trust myself.”

She gets up and steps over to me, placing her hands on my shoulder. “Then, don’t. Just enjoy the fact that you’re possibly the luckiest girl in Reno. Think about it. Two men who are both into you. Casually, at least. And close enough to get your naughty on. Anytime you want. Plus, if they’re smart, they’ll keep it all hush hush, to save their own asses. Can it get any more perfect than that?”

“I think you’re missing the punchline, honey,” I say in a huff.

“Which is?”

“There’s no way they’d take the chance hooking up with me again. Did I not mention how fast Deuce bolted from the coffee shop when he found out who I was? Trust me, I’d be lucky if they nod in my direction anytime soon.”

She smiles and her eyes light up. “Care for another friendly wager? It’ll save you from having to pay me that Benjamin you owe me.”

“I’m not sure I can handle losing any more bets at the moment.”

“Come on. If you lose, you actually win. Because I’m telling you right now…a month won’t pass before they figure out that you’re discreet, able to keep a secret, and more importantly, you’re more than worth the risk.”

She has a point.

Still, I’m not gambling on anyone’s career.

“No more bets,” I reiterate, and step out of her grasp to scoop up my keys. “Anyway, I need to get going. I promised Russell that I’d drop off a bread order at Mr. Jameson’s house as it’s on my way home. That, and I’ll need twice my usual self-control and probably triple the coffee to get through seeing them on their first day on the job…at my workplace. Did I mention that’s going to happen less than a week from now? That means I have to build up a tolerance, starting now.”

“It’ll be fine. Get home safely.” Rosa-Lee throws me an air kiss, picking up the remote as she returns to her sofa. “Let me know how it goes!”

“I will.” I start to head out of the living room, but pivot around to look her way again before my foot hits the first marble tile on the hallway floor. In spite of how uncertain I’m still feeling, I’m thankful to have someone like Rosa-Lee to be open with. “Good night, bestie. And thank you for this.”

“Anytime, love. Besides, with my self-imposed carnal dry spell since that lying, thieving son of a bitch whose name will never be uttered in my presence, I’m thrilled that one of us is getting some mileage out of our twenties.”

“Awww, honey,” I hum, making a point not to mention her ex’s name because he’s persona non grata after what he did to her. “You know that celibacy thing can change anytime you decide to get back in the game.”

“Oh, wait. That gives me an idea. How about dinner and drinks at Saddle Up Saloon one of these Saturdays? My treat.”

I feel my nose start to scrunch up and my eyebrows bunch at her invitation. That’s where the firefighters hang out on their time off. Before I get a chance to turn her down, she adds, “Don’t even think of saying no. Those guys start work next week. You’ll need liquid courage and an extra dose of girl-time to prepare yourself. It has to be one of these Saturdays. You need me.”

“Dammit,” I grumble. “All right, I’m in.”

“Sweet! Do you want me to invite Vicky and Jeff?” she asks about her neighbor. Vicky works with me at Baker’s Buns, and her husband, Jeff, also happens to be a firefighter working under my father.

“Sure. The whole thing’s a horrible idea, but why not?”

Rosa-Lee grabs her phone. “I’ll send a group text right now. Gosh, I haven’t seen them in ages. We can make it a night out.”

“Great. Keep me posted. Bye for now, darling.”

I get into my car and start the drive home, reminding myself yet again that I need to stop off at the Pendleton homestead. I can’t resent Russell for this minor detour this time. I volunteered. Mr. Jameson manages the cattle farm that occupies the almost thousand acres of land beside my place. It’s no trouble, really. The house I live in is the old homestead where my late mother grew up. Her family members—parents, grandparents, uncles, and cousins—were all farmers, and some still are today. The Pendleton homestead is the largest and probably the most well-known cattle ranch in the area. It has three family homes, two livestock barns, over a dozen outbuildings for storage, and as many cabins for the ranch hands that choose to live on the premises.

Because my mother’s family did ongoing business with the Pendleton’s, I know the ranch like the back of my hand. I practically grew up here, and spent many childhood summers, holidays, and evenings after school exploring. Which is why it was a natural choice for me to live in my grandparents’ farmhouse after they passed a few years ago. No matter what my life is like or whatever my father puts me through on the job, coming home to this house is the best, most soothing part of my day.

And do I ever need some of that soothing tonight.

Turning past the white wagon wheel from the paved farm access road, I drive onto the gravel driveway of the Pendleton farmstead. I won’t see Hammer or Deuce until they start work next week, but hell, I’ll need a week to mentally rehearse my game plan. The stakes are too high. I have to master my every emotion, action, and even my body language when I’m around them at the firehouse. To do that, the first step requires keeping a safe distance. I’ll focus on the job until my transfer comes through, and hope like hell that I can say no if either of them dares to secretly invite me out for seconds.

God help me.

No, God help all three of us.

Except, if there really is a God, he has a strange sense of humor.

As my car makes it halfway down the well-lit gravel driveway on the way to Mr. Jameson’s house, the third house on the farmstead, I catch a glimpse of Hammer and Deuce’s SUV. It’s no mistake. Deuce is stepping into the driver seat, and Hammer is lugging two large toolboxes into the first house.

Hammer and Deuce.

The two men I chose to have a raunchy, random, parking lot hookup with at the back of an SUV behind a truck stop diner aren’t just firefighters working for my dad.

They’re also my neighbors?

I’m beyond screwed.

Oh. Fucking. Hell.