CHAPTER 11
Cassie throttled down her bike, slowing to what felt like a crawl as she approached town. Of all the days in the calendar year, Cassie hated today the most. Even the extra-long ride she’d taken after the annual 4th of July parade this morning hadn’t done anything to calm her jitters.
Maybe it was because she was back in Prairie, or because she still felt the tiniest bit self-conscious at the fire station, but she’d come home from every Guard weekend jumpy and ill at ease. She was fine on the training ground with a weapon in her hand, or flying practice missions in the air with her new team, or on the bike. But anywhere else? She didn’t feel settled. Couldn’t hang with the gang the way she once had.
Cassie turned the bike onto 4th Street and came to a stop in front of the open garage door where Parker, Tony, and Mike sat on camp chairs next to the fire truck. Pulling off her helmet and giving her head a shake, she slipped off the bike. “Gents.”
They raised brown bottles to her.
“That Big Mike’s root beer?”
“Yep,” Tony said proudly. “Too bad we drank it all while you were communing with your bike.”
She unzipped her leather jacket and pulled out a bottle. “Too bad I snagged one before I left.” She let it dangle between her thumb and forefinger.
Mike and Parker threw their heads back, laughing. “Good one, Ace,” Mike called out.
The guys had started to call her that after they’d discovered she’d been the lead Aircraft Commander on the National Guard crew that had helped with the Hutchinson prairie fire. She liked it better than the name her Guard unit in Washington had given her – Knuckles.
Her old Guard unit had been tight. Two back to back tours in the sandbox did that. And she missed them, but when her dad had called worried about her mom, and a command slot had opened up in the Kansas National Guard, she’d felt she had to jump on it. Her family needed her, and she’d give them her best. Even if her best at the moment was pretty pathetic.
Parker jumped up, offering his chair, and she sat down, taking the bottle opener he’d handed her. Her root beer might be warm, but the fact she’d beaten the men at their own game was a win. The fact they enjoyed it, an even bigger win.
She took a sip, letting the warm liquid slake her thirst. Even warm, it was delicious. “Park’s right, Mike, when you gonna open a brew pub?”
“When are you gonna win the lottery and be my backer?”
“If I back you, could I stay behind and clean the firehouse tonight?”
“Hell, no,” Tony said. “It’s a rite of passage to hold the barf bucket tonight.”
“Besides, who’s gonna keep me company?” Parker chimed in.
Mike chortled. “No kissing her behind the ambulance either, Park. She has to man the barf bucket.”
Fireworks barf bucket duty always went to the newest member at the firehouse. This year it fell to her. Cassie faintly remembered having some poor young firefighter hold her head over the barf bucket one very hot and inebriated 4th of July, when she and a few of her friends had snuck a bottle of Boone’s strawberry wine into the fairgrounds.
The whole team had been called to duty this afternoon. Three lucky sons of guns would get to stay behind to clean and attend to any in town calls that might happen during the fireworks. But the whole town showed up to the fairgrounds so staying at the firehouse offered respite from the chaos. And chaos was exactly what Cassie wanted to avoid.
“Please? I’ll clean the truck for a month. And the fridge.” That was saying something.
“And the toilets?” Tony’s eyes narrowed speculatively.
Cassie sighed heavily. “Even the toilets.” She’d do it too, if it meant getting out of being on site for the fireworks.
Tony stretched his legs out, resting his hands on top of his head. “Mighty kind of you. But, no.”
Cassie finished off her root beer before she spoke. “I’ll be giving the station a white glove inspection when I return, Cruz. Hope you pass muster.” She winked at him and rose, tossing the bottle into the recycle bin where it clattered loudly. “I’m gonna go change. What time do we report?”
“Thirty minutes.”
Thirty minutes later, the fire chief’s truck, the firetruck, and Cassie and Parker riding in the ambulance, pulled into the fairgrounds and parked behind the display board. In the center of the arena, the fireworks technicians bustled back and forth setting up row upon row of shells.
As Cassie entered the arena with the crew, her stomach dropped. The technicians bent over wood, wires, metal tubes and fireworks shells covered in thin paper. Her mouth went dry, tongue going numb and ears buzzing loudly. The fireworks looked like IEDs.
She swallowed, breathing through her nose, trying to bring her heart rate down to a normal pace. These were just fireworks. Balls of explosives that showered beauty over an appreciative crowd. Not weapons of death and chaos.
“Cassie?” Parker’s voice reached her through the fog of panic. “Cassie.” His voice was sharper this time.
He touched her shoulder, and she flinched. Shame flooded her. “I-I’m fine.”
“You look like you saw a ghost.”
Yeah. Yeah, I did.
She blew out a breath. “All good.” She made herself smile. “Pretty amazing, huh? All those fireworks? Now, where’s that barf bucket? I should go get it.” She might need it. Cassie turned and, forcing herself to walk slowly, headed back to the trucks. It was going to be a long, long night.
By the time they’d returned to the fire station and washed down the vehicles, it was well after midnight. Cassie made a beeline for the kitchen, hoping there’d be some leftover barbecue from the afternoon’s festivities. She had to give Tony props. The kitchen sparkled.
“Bingo,” Parker called after looking in the fridge. “Grab some forks.”
She pulled a couple forks from a bin of silverware on the counter, and popped the top on the first Tupperware Parker handed her. Pulled pork, already doused heavily in sauce. She dug in, too tired to go hunting for a hamburger bun. The stress of keeping her shit together for eight hours had exhausted her. How was she going to stay awake until shift end?
They ate in companionable silence until Parker held up his container. “Coleslaw? It’s your mom’s.”
They traded containers, fingers brushing. It still surprised Cassie how the most casual touch put her senses on alert. She glanced up to find Parker staring at her curiously. Did the same thing happen to him?
“Wanna tell me what happened at the arena this afternoon?”
“Nothing. Is there any pie?”
A look of frustration crossed his face. “No. And you’re deflecting. Something happened at the fairgrounds today. Did you have a flashback?”
Damn.
Of course, he’d notice. He wasn’t dumb. And he’d seen more than his fair share of tragedy. A flash of anger sliced through Cassie. How come he managed to stay calm and unflappable all the time? And one look at a bunch of wires and metal and she was back on a battlefield half a world away?
“No. No flashback. I just don’t like the Fourth.”
His face softened. And there was that look again. The one that was almost, but not quite pity.
Dammit. “And I don’t need your pity. I’m perfectly capable of doing my job,” she snapped.
“No one said anything about you not being able to do your job, Cass,” he answered quietly after a moment.
God, she was a bitch. Parker didn’t deserve to be treated like that. She set down the coleslaw and scrubbed a hand over her face, the fight draining from her. “I know. I’m sorry.”
Parker closed the distance between them, wrapping her in a tight embrace and kissing the top of her head.
“Someone will see us.”
“First I don’t care. Second, the only other people here at the station tonight are sound asleep already.”
She could feel herself melting in his embrace. But she couldn’t soften. If she did, she’d fall asleep, and she couldn’t let that happen. Not tonight. “Don’t you think we should exercise some discretion?”
He chuckled. A warm laugh that vibrated against her cheek. “Like we did in Hutch?”
Her body warmed at the memory. Messing around with Park in a utility closet had been super risky. And exhilarating. But she didn’t have it in her tonight.
“Chicken?”
Now it was her turn to chuckle. “I’d never admit it if I was.” Parker’s hands made lazy circles across her back. “But for the record, I’m not. In Hutch, we weren’t on the same team. Here, we are.”
“So you mean to tell me you never dated a colleague in the military?”
“I was no saint. But I also paid the price.” She could admit that much to him. And maybe that would be enough to stop his questions. She tilted her head and kissed his chin, moving along his jawline to place a final kiss on his neck just under his ear. Her favorite place because she could always detect his cologne there. “So for now, let’s wait and go back to your place tomorrow after shift change.”
Parker turned his head and captured her mouth in a gentle kiss. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”
He stepped back and immediately she felt the loss of him. Her body burned with the temptation to throw caution to the wind and crawl into his arms and go for a quickie on the counter.
“Foosball?” Cassie grabbed the containers and returned them to the fridge. A game would wake her up, and keep her mind off Parker’s abs.
“Best of three?”
“Wager?”
Parker shot her a dirty grin over his shoulder. “Yes, but not money.”
“I’m not playing strip foosball in the firehouse.”
“Then we can bet what you take off later, after I crush you.”
“Talk is cheap, cowboy. Be prepared to give me a show when you strip,” she hungrily eyed his ass as she followed him up the stairs to the large rec room.