Burning Up: The Prescotts Page 2

  Another one of the firefighters helped her up, and she was sorry to lose the reassuring, solid warmth of Noah’s body against hers.

  Talk about a stress response.

  “Thanks,” she said, nodding at the firefighter with the name SANTIAGO blazoned across his uniform.

  “You sure you’re okay?” he asked, and she knew Santiago was the man with the deep, gruff voice. “We could call EMS down here, have them check you out.”

  She shook her head, starting to feel a little embarrassed about the fuss they were making over her. “No, that’s really not necessary. I’m fine.”

  “Let me just do a quick check,” said Noah, rising to his feet. Suddenly, her hands were enveloped in his again as he studied her pupils, his fingers resting on her wrists to check her pulse. His hands were massive, and they swallowed hers up completely, engulfing them in rough warmth. Her stomach exploded with butterflies and her legs actually gave out a little, sending her stumbling forward into Noah, who caught her easily with an arm around her waist. He was tall, probably 6’1, and solid. So, so solid. Had she mentioned solid? Broad shoulders and powerful arms, all encased in firefighter gear. She’d never thought the firefighter thing was her catnip, but based on the butterflies exploding in her stomach and the heat rippling over her skin, it definitely was.

  “Easy there,” he said, that deep voice washing over her and making her want to rub herself on him like a cat. His fingers curled into her waist for a second time and then, as though he realized what he was doing, he dropped his hand. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  She swallowed and licked her lips, her mouth impossibly dry, her face embarrassingly hot. “Yes, I’m fine. I swear.”

  He arched an eyebrow at her, clearly skeptical. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, his eyes not leaving her face. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call EMS?”

  She shook her head, unable to tear her gaze away from his face. “No, no. I’m absolutely fine. Just want to get home.”

  “Big plans tonight?” he asked, not moving away from her. Which was good, because she didn’t want him to move away.

  “Just dinner with friends.”

  His eyes cut downward, and she could’ve sworn he’d just checked her hand for a ring. Which was highly unlikely. She was letting her imagination run wild, fueled by hormones and adrenaline.

  “Cap, we gotta go,” said one of the other firefighters, a younger guy with short, blond hair. “You wanna talk to the custodian about calling the elevator company?” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, pointing to where Gus, the head custodian, was talking to another of the firefighters.

  Noah cleared his throat. “Right. Yeah.” His eyes met hers one last time. “Glad you’re okay. Enjoy your dinner.” She shot him a smile and bent to retrieve her things when Noah ducked down. “Here, let me help you with that.” He gathered up her things from their neat pile on the floor and handed them to her, their fingers brushing as he did. A little zing shot up her arm, and she ducked her head. And then he moved away to rejoin his team, leaving her alone. With a sigh, she headed to her office, slowing every few feet to glance back over her shoulder to see if Noah was watching her.

  He was. Every single time. And every single time, butterflies exploded through her stomach. She knew he was probably just making sure she didn’t almost eat it again. He was probably married. Or at least in a relationship. No way a man who looked like that didn’t have women throwing themselves at him on the regular. He was probably going to go home to his wife and kids and dog and never think about her again.

  Thanks, brain. Killjoy.

  She chuckled as she walked, knowing her friends were going to love this story. She loved it, too. So much so that she found herself replaying it over and over.

  She let herself into her locked classroom and set her things down on her desk, not even caring when everything slumped over into a messy pile. She dropped into the chair behind her desk, swiveling back and forth as she stared unfocused at the white board still covered in notes from that afternoon’s lesson on Animal Farm. It was a good thing she’d gotten the quizzes marked earlier, because there was no way she’d have the focus to do it now. Not when her head was filled with fantasies involving Noah Prescott, FDNY Captain.

  She unlocked her desk drawer and pulled her phone out, navigating to the group chat with her friends who she was meeting later.

  Felicity: I’m going to be running a little late. I got stuck in an elevator at school.

  Audrey: Holy moly. Are you okay?

  Felicity: I’m fine. It was actually kind of exciting. I’ll tell you all about it at dinner.

  Mal: Glad you’re okay! Don’t worry about running late, we’ll wait for you.

  Kara: And make sure there’s a glass of wine on the table waiting when you get there.

  Felicity: You guys are the best. See you soon!

  2

  Noah stepped out of the shower at the firehouse, grabbing his towel and running it roughly over his body. His muscles groaned in protest, exhausted after his twenty-four-hour shift. They’d gone out on several calls, cleaned the station, washed the truck, and gone through a couple of drills. He knew he probably overdid it on the drills and training with his team, but he didn’t want to leave anything to chance. He was their captain, and it was his job to keep them safe, and to make sure they had the equipment, tools, and knowledge to handle any situation.

  He finished drying himself off and pulled on his boxer briefs, jeans, and a dark blue T-shirt, padding barefoot back to the bunkhouse. The mood inside was light and happy, and Noah knew why. It was a gorgeous spring day, it was Friday afternoon, and they were off all weekend, not due to report back to the station until 6 AM on Monday. Normally they worked 24 hours on, 48 hours off, but they’d all stayed for an extra 8 of overtime.

  “Big plans tonight, Cap?” asked Jesse Larsen, the youngest guy on their crew. Noah knew he looked up to him, and he did his best to set a good example every single shift. He wasn’t sure he always succeeded, but he tried nonetheless.

  “Nah, nothing crazy. I’m helping my mom with something and then I might swing by the boxing gym later.” A couple of years ago, he, Dominick, and Brandon had bought a beat up old warehouse in Jersey City and painstakingly converted into a private boxing gym. Now, dozens of members of the FDNY were members, along with some of his, Dom’s and Brandon’s friends and family. He’d done it as a passion project, not as an investment of any kind, and he liked to hang out there. Most of the time, he’d rather be there, hitting something to work out the tension caused by the pressure on his shoulders than sitting home alone. It was his happy place. His escape. The place where he could just be and feel and not have to worry about everyone and everything. His job, his family, his community. It wasn’t a mantle he was willing to put down—not for anything—but damn, did it get heavy sometimes.

  “That place is cool,” said Jesse, tossing a few things in his bag and shutting his locker.

  Noah nodded, absently running a hand over his mouth as he thought. “I’ll take that delivery to the food bank, too.” They had a bin for canned goods at the front of the fire station, and whenever it was full, they were supposed to call the food bank to come and pick it up. But Noah knew how busy and short staffed they were, so he usually took it over in his Jeep, instead. “And I got a buddy who wants me to look at his truck, see if we can figure out what’s wrong with it.” He wasn’t a mechanic—not by a longshot—but he liked to tinker and knew a thing or two about engines.

  Jesse arched an eyebrow, then rubbed a hand over his damp hair. “Yeah, uh. Sounds like a fun weekend.”

  He tipped his chin at Jesse. “You should come to the boxing gym if you feel like it.”

  Jesse nodded. “Yeah, I think I might.”

  “Text me if you decide to go and I’ll send you the code.” The gym wasn’t staffed, and all members were responsible for cleaning up after themselves. They had an electronic lock on the door, so anyone with the code could
let themselves in. “You got plans this weekend?”

  Jesse shook his head. “Nothing crazy. Drinks with some friends, and a fuckton of sleep.”

  Noah chuckled. “Sounds perfect.”

  Dominick Santiago walked by and clapped Jesse on the shoulder. “Good shift, kid,” he said gruffly. Dom was rough around the edges, but he was a good guy and a hell of a first responder. He was tough and dedicated, even if he was a bit of a bear personality wise. And fearless. So damn fearless Noah had to hold him back sometimes. Funny how his fearlessness was one of Noah’s biggest sources of fear, because he didn’t know what he’d do or how he’d handle it if he lost a man. After losing his father during the September 11th terrorist attacks over twenty years ago, he knew all too well the repercussions of losing a man on the job, and how that one event couple ripple through the lives of others for decades after.

  “It’s the weekend, and we’re not working, and to that I say halle-fucking-lujah,” said Brandon Knight, striding into the room wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs and aviator sunglasses.

  “God, you’re such a fucking douche,” said Dom, chucking a shirt at Brandon.

  “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful,” he said, tossing his head. He’d been mistaken for Chris Evans more than once, something that had only further inflated his already enormous ego.

  “Speaking of beautiful,” said Jesse, sinking down onto his bed. “Did you get a load of that teacher we pulled from the elevator?” He let out a low whistle, and Noah had the sudden urge to punch him in the face.

  “Oh yeah,” said Brandon. “She was gorgeous. All that red hair and those big green eyes. Not to mention her other assets.” He held his hands out in front of his chest, cupping imaginary breasts.

  Anger, white hot and completely startling, flashed through Noah’s chest. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt oddly protective of Felicity. “Hey, let’s keep it professional,” he said, shaking his head.

  “You guys talking about that teacher?” asked Cameron Henning, stepping into the bunkhouse wearing a pair of low-slung gray sweatpants and nothing else. His dark blond hair was damp, a towel clutched in his massive hand. He sank down onto his bed, and it gave an audible groan as he did. Cameron was the biggest guy on the crew, bigger than Dom, and also the most mysterious. Noah could sum up what he knew about Cam in just a few words. Single. Hard-working. Loyal. Temper. Always willing to take overtime. Good firefighter. Noah was sure there was a hell of a lot more to him than that, but Cameron didn’t let anyone get close.

  “Yeah,” said Dom, bending down to tie his boots. “The sexy redhead.”

  “Please,” said Brandon, putting on the T-shirt Dom had chucked at him. “You talk a big game, but everyone here knows you’re still hung up on your ex-wife.”

  Dom let out a low rumble that sounded a hell of a lot like a growl, something he did whenever the subject of his divorce came up. To say he was touchy about it was the understatement of the year.

  Cam held up his hands as though appeasing a grumpy bear—which, let’s be honest, he sort of was—and returned his attention to gathering up his stuff, yanking his phone charger out of the wall.

  “Plans this weekend?” asked Noah, trying to diffuse the tension in the room and prevent the topic from veering back to Felicity. Ms. Hawthorne.

  Shit, he couldn’t fault the guys for being a little taken with her because he’d almost swallowed his fucking tongue when they’d first come face to face. Thick, reddish brown hair tumbling over her shoulders, bright green eyes, pert little nose dusted with freckles, wide smile. Curves for days, and God, it was as though every single thought had flown out of his brain when he’d felt all those curves pressed against him.

  It was as though something had lit up inside him and for just a second, he’d felt…different. He couldn’t explain it. Or hell, maybe the fact that he hadn’t had sex in way too long was explanation enough. He shook his head, trying to push the thoughts away. It wasn’t like he’d ever see her again, and it wasn’t as though he had room in his life for any kind of relationship, anyway. He had enough responsibility on his plate without taking on someone else to worry about, too.

  “I thought we were keeping it professional,” said Brandon, waving a hand in front of Noah’s face, smirking at him. Noah blinked, realizing he’d just completely zoned out and hadn’t heard a word of Cam’s answer.

  Noah arched an eyebrow at Brandon. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning you’re sitting here daydreaming about the exquisite Ms. Hawthorne, that’s what.”

  Noah shook his head. “Nah. Just tired. Daydreaming’s not really my style.” And that was true. Usually.

  “Great. I’m gonna head back to that school and ask her out.” Brandon chuckled and Noah once again wanted to punch him. But he knew Brandon was full of shit. He always was. Firefighting seemed to be the one thing in his life he actually took seriously. Everything else was just a game to him.

  “Not if I get there first,” said Jesse, grinning at Brandon.

  “Thought you had a girlfriend,” said Dom, frowning.

  Some of the mirth went out of Jesse’s smile, and he shook his head. “Nah. Didn’t work out.”

  “Well, then. In the name of mending broken hearts and all that shit, I won’t go hit on the teacher. She’s all yours, buddy.”

  “Come on, she’s probably married.” Cam groused from his bed, his attention on his phone.

  “She didn’t have a ring,” said Noah, and all four heads snapped in his direction.

  “Noticed that, did you Cap?” asked Brandon, a teasing glint in his eyes. Noah felt blood rush to his face, and he cleared his throat.

  “I literally had her hands in mine, so yeah, I noticed she didn’t have any jewelry on. We’re supposed to be observant, guys.”

  “Uh huh,” said Brandon, still smirking. Noah really hoped he showed up at the boxing gym this weekend so he could punch him a few dozen times. “Observant. Sure. If that’s what you wanna call it.”

  Just then, their battalion captain, a huge Black man named Curtis Masterston, poked his head into the bunkhouse. “Prescott, you have a second?” he asked, and then immediately started walking down the hallway, indicating that his question wasn’t really a question. Noah set his things down on his bed and followed the BC out into the hallway.

  “What’s up?” he asked, his mind already racing with what this could be about. Their calls had all gone well, they’d done all the mandatory cleaning and equipment maintenance, he’d even put them through an extra drill. Shit, did the BC think he was overworking his team? Because if he did, that might mean—

  “I need a favor,” said Masterson, his deep voice cutting through Noah’s anxiety. “And I know you’re trying to distance yourself from all the calendar stuff and the attention it got you, but I know you’re the man for the job.”

  A prickling sense of wariness crept over Noah and he kept his expression neutral. “And what job would that be?”

  Masterson crossed his arms over his impossibly wide chest, his white dress shirt adorned with several service medals stretching with the movement. “The Manhattan Coalition for the Homeless is having a charity event tomorrow night, and they asked us to send a participant. I originally asked O’Malley, and he agreed, but he’s out with the flu. So I’ll need you to fill in for him.”

  “Sure, no problem,” said Noah before he even knew what he was agreeing to. It wasn’t in him to say no to a charitable cause or his BC. It was his duty to step up when asked, plain and simple. “What, uh, what’s involved?”

  Masterson grimaced slightly. “Now, remember, you’ve already said yes.”

  Dread settled in Noah’s stomach like a stone, and he swallowed. “To what, exactly?”

  “It’s a bachelor auction. All the money raised will go to the coalition.”

  Noah’s lips parted, and he took a breath, not quite sure what to say. “A bachelor auction?” Well, fuck-a-doodle-doo. “Yeah, I don’t know, sir. That’s no
t really my scene, and I—”

  Masterson raised a hand. “I know. You’d be doing the department and the charity a huge favor by participating.”

  Noah sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. “Okay. Yeah. What do I need to do?”

  It was several hours later when Noah pushed open the door to his semi in Jersey City. He’d gotten all the information about the charity bachelor auction from Masterson, then taken the canned goods over to the food bank. Then he’d stopped by the boxing gym and had worked off some pent up energy and stress by pummeling the shit out of the heavy bag for a while. Once he’d felt sufficiently drained, he’d picked up some groceries and headed home, ready to veg.

  Silence greeted him as he stepped inside, entering through the garage door. He lived alone in the semi he’d bought four years ago. No roommates, no pets, no responsibilities. Just himself to look after here, and because of that, it had always felt a bit like a sanctuary.

  Toeing off his boots, he carried his groceries to the kitchen, where he started to put them away, his mind whirring with everything else left on his list for the weekend. Tomorrow morning, he’d try on his suit to make sure it looked good for the bachelor auction he’d gotten roped into. He still didn’t want to do it, but what choice did he have? If he didn’t step up, they’d be left hanging, and that wasn’t fair. So he’d suck it up, let women bid on him, and then take some lady out for a nice dinner.

  Sad to think that his first “date” in over a year would be for charity, but, hey. He didn’t have time for a girlfriend. Given how much he worked, how busy he was with other responsibilities, it wouldn’t be fair to start dating someone and then expect her to just wait around for him all the time. He didn’t want to do that to someone, even if he was a little lonely.

  He’d just have to suck it up. There was no such thing as having it all, and he’d accepted that a long time ago.

  As he put a carton of eggs into the fridge, his phone started ringing. He pulled it out of the back pocket of his jeans, glancing at the screen before answering the call.