Burning Up (Flirting With Fire Book 1) Read online

  Jake nodded.

  “Bring her over,” Hollywood said.

  “Over where?”

  “To the lake this Friday.”

  He huffed out a laugh. Erin at the lake with his men? This screamed bad idea. “And subject her to your heathen ways? Not happening.”

  “What? You nervous we’ll steal her away?”

  “More like scare her away.” The guys were great to shoot the shit with, but he didn’t know how they’d be around Erin. Reece and Erin barely got along to begin with. Add in the whole gang? Probably not a good idea.

  “Nobody but you would be stupid enough to fuck with Reece’s sister,” Hollywood said.

  Right. Jake had apparently been whacked over the head with a stupid stick.

  His gut told him this would end badly, and his gut hadn’t been wrong yet. And yet he couldn’t get Erin off his mind. “We’re just keeping it casual. It’s not like that.” If he said it enough times, it’d be true.

  “Who’s this prick talking about?” Reece strode in from the kitchen, stopping to lean against the door frame to the garage.

  “Don’t you see how he’s going all googly-eyed? Who do you think?”

  Reece cut his glance to Jake. He was majorly fucking up bro code by talking about Reece’s sister, but Jake hadn’t been using much of his head lately.

  “Who?” Reece asked again.

  Jake cleared his throat. Damn. He really didn’t want to do this at work. It’d be much easier with a beer and a burger. “Erin.”

  “My sister, Erin? Is that the one you’re referring to?”

  “There’s a brownie in the kitchen with my name on it. I’ll just leave you two to work this out,” Hollywood said. He disappeared into the station, the metal door shutting with a loud clunk.

  “Hey, man, I’m sorry—”

  Reece put his hands up, stopping him. “You don’t need to explain anything to me. You’re a grown-ass man. It’s weird—I’ll admit that.”

  “It’s weird for me, too,” Jake admitted. “We cool?”

  “Always,” Reece said as he checked out the contents of the med kit, even though he’d just seen Jake do this. “Just remember she’s leaving.” He gave him a knowing look.

  Yeah. Something that he knew but was choosing to ignore at the moment. His thoughts were interrupted when the alarm beeped, and a message came over the intercom. “Station Eleven, all units needed for a child trapped in a burning residential structure.” A child in a fire. Anytime kids were involved, there was an unspoken understanding that they picked up the pace, got out of the station a little quicker. Each and every one of these calls made Jake’s stomach clench. He didn’t know if it was a parent thing, but every time there was a kid in need, he saw Bailey’s face.

  Jake quickly put all his tools back into the apparatus and pulled on his turnout gear, making it in the truck in less than a minute. He pulled up the address on the navigation system as Reece started the engine. By the time they hit the main road, they all had their headsets on.

  “Make a right here. Showing higher traffic level on Brooks Road,” Jake told Reece, his throat tight.

  “Roger.”

  They were all quiet for a minute, and Jake guessed that the other two were mentally categorizing the tasks that needed to be done to get this kid out safe, like he was.

  Two minutes later, they pulled up to a three-alarm blaze. Flames licked out of the open windows upstairs. Jake’s pulse ticked in his neck. Go time.

  Most of his calls were medical, so to get a call for something that was the very reason he became a firefighter to begin with amped his adrenaline until his heart rate gushed in his ears. Sweat beaded at the top of his lip, and he hadn’t even made it into the fire yet.

  He was already out and making his way to the house while Reece secured the hose to a hydrant across the street.

  “My baby!” a woman screamed, her clothes all askew. She clutched an infant to her chest, rushing to Jake. “Isaiah is in there,” her voice wobbled, sending another kick to Jake’s gut.

  “How old, ma’am?”

  “Six.” Young enough that he might not know what to do in a situation like this.

  “What floor?” The more information he knew, the better the chance to get the kid out. He knew one thing for sure: he wasn’t leaving that house without that boy.

  “His bedroom. Second floor. My husband went in to grab him, and that was before I called you guys.”

  Shit.

  “I’ll be back.” He didn’t want to make the woman any promises. The flames out the windows were evidence enough that this might be a recovery mission instead of a rescue. He relayed the information over the headset.

  He rushed to the front door beside Hollywood. A wall of heat hit him as soon as he ran across the threshold. A flood of smoke floated around them, making for zero visibility. Hollywood had already kicked open the door in search of people while Reece was hopefully well on his way to creating an opening in the roof. Jake’s pulse hammered in his ears, and the sound of his breathing was the only thing he could hear over the crackling of the flames around him.

  His suit was meant to withstand hundreds of degrees, but with how hot this fire was burning, it was as if he didn’t have any protective gear on at all.

  Jake tested out the stability of the stairs, making sure the integrity hadn’t been compromised yet.

  A beam collapsed in the hallway as he approached the second floor. He scanned both ends, two doors on the left, four on the right. The flames roared up the walls from baseboard to ceiling, the sound almost deafening. Embers rained down above, the floor burning hot beneath his boots. Once he had been in a training exercise where the fire had burned too hot, and the magnetic name badge on his helmet had melted into the material. A few of his men had nearly passed out. Give it another few minutes and this house might be in a similar situation.

  Jake looked up and down the hallway again. He’d start on the right first, Hollywood following close behind. The door was already open, smoke pummeling out of it. Any minute now, Reece would create an opening in the roof, hopefully give them a little more breathing room, a place for the smoke to escape.

  Jake rushed through and found a man on his hands and knees, coughing and sputtering. Sweat soaked his white T-shirt, and soot covered his arms and face. Hollywood broke out from behind him, rushing to the man’s side, giving him the spare oxygen mask. Jake scanned the room. No sign of the little boy. Most likely, the dad had been disoriented and ended up in this room. Lack of oxygen to the brain would do that.

  “Do you know where your son is?” he asked the man, though he wasn’t expecting much of an answer.

  The man’s eyelids drooped closed as his body slumped against Hollywood’s, but he managed to shake his head no.

  Jake turned to Hollywood. “Get him out. I’ll find him.”

  Hollywood hesitated, his brows pinching together. It was protocol to stick together, being within either touching distance or earshot. But any longer in this inferno and the dad wouldn’t make it.

  “Go,” Jake repeated.

  Hollywood nodded and rushed the father down the stairs.

  Jake turned to the hallway, the thick smoke impossible to see through. He made his way into the second room, a nursery, the crib charred, the walls smoldering. Another few minutes and the structure would be compromised. A total loss. Something that wasn’t typical nowadays with everything covered in fire retardant.

  He got down on all fours, the heat blooming across his gloves and the turnout gear. Sweat trickled down his back as he peeked under the crib. All clear.

  He shoved himself up to a standing position and made his way to the next room. The smoke was too thick to see through at this point, and Jake walked the perimeter of the room, keeping his hand on the wall for reference. When his knees brushed what appeared to be a race-car bed, he crouched down. His heart tripled in pace when he saw a large lump in the corner. The lump moved and let out a whimper, barely audible among the hiss
of the burning house.

  Fuck yes. It was a good sign the boy was still able to make sounds.

  His gloved hands grabbed the boy around his middle and dragged him from where he’d been hiding. The boy’s shirt was soaked through with sweat, and he was limp in his arms. Jake pushed down the dread that prickled at his scalp. Too hot. The boy was too clammy. He cradled him in his arms and sprinted for the hallway.

  Embers rained down on them as Jake raced for the stairs. So close. Just a few more steps and he’d be on the main floor. Jake’s breath echoed loudly in his mask, the oxygen warm and muggy. His skin felt sticky in his suit. One foot in front of the other, he booked it down the stairs, the heat pressing on them from all directions. Please stay with me, buddy. He cradled the kid closer to his body. Four steps to go and he’d be a couple of yards from the entrance. Then he could get the kid some proper medical attention. Jake’s foot hit the third step, and sparks of pain shot up his leg as it crashed through the wood. Sharp splinters gashed his shin, and a guttural sound ripped out of his throat as his unoccupied arm flailed, fighting to keep upright. With one hand, he gripped the handrail, the other still holding the boy firmly to his chest.

  No. He would not get trapped in here—he’d seen it before. Firefighters getting split up and then trapped, unable to get out of a situation before it was too late. Any moment now, the whole second floor could collapse. He didn’t want to be a fucking pancake today. Not like this, when they were so close to the entrance.

  Jake gnashed his teeth together, the pain searing up his leg. “Shit.” Every muscle in his body coiled tightly as he used every bit of strength to haul himself and the boy up on his other leg. He wouldn’t let him down. Isaiah was going to live.

  His leg wobbled as he managed to right himself, and his whole back jarred as he hopped down the last two stairs and hobbled to the entrance. Air gusted behind him, and a loud crash echoed through the house as a support beam fell on the stairs, right where Jake and Isaiah had been moments before.

  Close call. Too close.

  Hollywood met him at the front door when he emerged from the house. He had a gurney and oxygen at the ready when Jake cradled the boy and set him down.

  He tore off his mask and swore under his breath, praying that the kid would respond to Hollywood’s compressions.

  One. Two. Three. Four. The compressions continued while oxygen was fed through the mask.

  “You need to get that leg checked out,” Reece said, shaking Jake’s shoulder.

  Jake waved him off. His leg could wait. He needed to make sure the kid was all right.

  C’mon, kid. Pull through. His mother wailed along with her baby on the sidewalk. He was thankful she was giving them space to do their work, especially when these seconds were critical. The father was on another gurney, being examined by an EMT who’d come on the scene while Jake was inside.

  Station Three had joined them, their men at the hose, trying to slow the burn.

  The compressions continued . . . and nothing. Isaiah’s chest remained still, no sign of life.

  No. This couldn’t be happening. He’d been on the force for ten years, and he hadn’t lost a single kid to a fire. Bailey’s smile flashed in his mind. All the birthday parties. Movie nights. Kissing her good night even though she claimed she was too old for him to check up on her now. Come the fuck on. This little boy’s parents couldn’t be robbed of this. Not so young.

  Hollywood’s composure seemed to fray at the edges with each failed compression. His breathing turned heavy, and the crease in his forehead deepened. Knowing Hollywood, they were both coming to the same conclusion.

  “Come on, little dude,” Hollywood said, his voice cracking.

  “Where’s my son? Oh God, please let me just see him.”

  The dad pushed off the gurney and sprinted to his son’s side. “Oh, Isaiah. Buddy, please,” the dad pleaded.

  That uptick in the guy’s voice turned Jake’s throat to its own inferno. He clenched his jaw. He would not lose his shit in front of the parents. No matter what happened to the kid.

  “Sir, you need to get more oxygen,” he said.

  The guy fell to his knees, coughing, tears rolling down his ashen face.

  “My son. Please. Save him.” The wife came to join him, the husband wrapping a protective arm around her. Both watched their son, completely helpless.

  He knew Hollywood was doing everything he could. Jake took a moment to check himself. There was nothing he could do to secure the house. The two crews were already hosing down the perimeter. Jake always tried to distance himself from these situations, because if he didn’t, the what-ifs would come pouring in faster than a fully opened fire hydrant. Things like: What if this was my house? What if it was Bailey lying lifeless on the ground? Or Erin? His throat constricted.

  A tiny cough tore his attention away from the house and back to the kid. Another cough ignited a swell of hope. And then the boy was moving, sputtering, taking huge gulps of air.

  Yes.

  He looked around wildly as his parents descended upon him, wrapping their arms around him.

  This was what he lived for. Why he trained so hard. For moments just like this. He held back a whoop. That’d be saved for beers tonight with the guys after their shift. After he checked in on Bailey—because, holy hell, was that a reality check.

  “Thank you,” the dad said, now taking the air that an EMT was pushing at him insistently.

  This call put everything into perspective. What was most important in his life. He definitely needed a beer tonight. Or three.

  He’d decided that as soon as that boy took that lifesaving breath of air, he wasn’t going to piss away his own shot at a good life. And if that meant setting himself up for failure by seeing someone who was leaving, well, then so be it. But there was a tiny part of Jake that held out hope. Hope for what, he didn’t know. This thing with Erin was too fragile to think about too seriously just yet.

  One of the EMTs took the family to the hospital while a medic bandaged Jake’s leg. And then he loaded up his gear and got back in the apparatus.

  He turned to face Hollywood. “You were good out there today.”

  The whole goddamn spectrum of emotions morphed across his features. “For a minute there, I thought that was going a different direction.”

  “That’s why you never give up, brother.” He turned back around and rested his head against the seat, grabbing his phone from the cup holder. Bailey was in class at the moment, so he shot her a quick Love you, kid text and would settle for calling her later.

  They pulled into the engine bay, and Jake’s heart nearly flatlined when he spotted a familiar blonde in cutoffs and a tank top leaning against the wall.

  Erin’s heart picked up to a gallop when Jake opened the door to the fire engine. He was covered in soot, sweat paving a path of tan skin over his cheeks and forehead. And he was limping. Why was he limping?

  She clutched the tray of cookies to her chest, the lip of the metal digging into her stomach.

  “Bad call?” The words barely made it past her tight throat. Seeing him like this reminded her that Jake wasn’t bulletproof. Or fireproof.

  “Could have been.”

  “What happened to your leg?” She noted the tear in his turnouts and the blood speckling the material.

  Jake shrugged. “Just a little cut. Nothing to worry about.”

  She eyed him. It looked like more than that, but if he wanted to play it off like it was nothing, then so be it. She wasn’t going to mom him.

  Honestly, though, it was freaking her out a little bit that he was hurt. Jake and her brother had been invincible as kids, impervious to injury. It seemed like they were always getting themselves into sticky situations—jumping off roofs, nearly getting trampled by horses—and yet they’d always managed to come out unscathed. She swallowed back the thick lump in her throat. How much luck could two guys have?

  “If you were a steak, you’d be well done,” she said, trying to k
eep her tone light, even if she felt anything but.

  “Comparing me to a piece of meat. A little cliché there, Heron, don’t you think?”

  At least he was in good spirits. That was one thing she could always count on with Jake. The apocalypse could descend upon them, and he’d still crack a joke. The yin to her neurotic yang.

  Her gaze wandered over his sooty clothes again.

  Okay, it should be a sin to look this gorgeous when he looked like a toasted marshmallow. She didn’t even know how she’d ended up here. One minute she was banging her head on her desk filling out yet another job application, the next she was stress baking, and then her car magically made its way across town. She could play it off like she wanted to see her brother, but she was never good at lying.

  “What’s up?” he asked. “Everything okay?”

  He’d just gotten back from a gruesome fire. By comparison, her day had been cake.

  She couldn’t help it, though. Ever since the night of their date, that kiss replayed over. And over. And over in her head.

  “I needed to see you.” Why was her heart beating so fast? And why was it so important that she see him right now, while he was on his shift?

  Those were two questions she couldn’t answer. Or wouldn’t let herself answer.

  “Give me a second.” He peeled off his turnout gear and placed it by the passenger side of the fire engine. Sweat soaked through his navy shirt and his basketball shorts. A bandage was wrapped around his right leg, blood already soaking through the gauze.

  “Hello, Erin Jenkins, wonderful human being.” Cole walked around the truck and leaned against the side, looking like he was ready for a photo shoot.

  “Just give him the cookies and he’ll leave you alone,” Jake said.

  “Hi, Cole.” She handed him the tray, and he gave her a smile that would make most women drop to the floor.

  “Goodbye, Cole,” Jake said, his voice strained.

  Reece gave her a cool nod before heading into the station with Cole.

  “I thought you guys might like some treats.” She couldn’t stop staring at the sweat, the smoky skin. How hot did it get in those suits?