He straightened up a bit and mouthed “It’s the media company” at Lucas, whose eyes widened. “Um, yes. I’m Ryder. How can I help you?”
“The photo has attracted a lot of attention online, and we’d like to leverage that into a bigger news story about the pile-up on Route 7. A human-interest story. Interviewing the first responders and some of the people who were trapped there. We’d love to schedule you for an on-camera chat sometime this week. The sooner the better.”
The words hit him like a bucket of cold water. He could crawl into a car wreck, help pull people out of collapsed structures, and wade into domestic violence situations in order to help folks, but the thought of being interviewed was too much. Ryder glanced at Lucas, who had moved away to answer questions at the calendar table.
He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in giving an interview. I was just doing my job.” It was the phrase they’d all said dozens of times. “It was a group effort from all the EMTs, police, and firefighters to help out at the scene.”
The woman on the other end of the phone call paused, then sighed dramatically, then finally spoke. “I understand. Would you verify your name and permission to use the photo verbally? We have the signed release from the photographer already, but it’s always better to cover all bases.”
“You have permission to use the photo,” he said slowly, “but not my name, please. I don’t want publicity.” Maybe there was a way to, as the media people said,leveragethe popularity of the photo to ask for donations or publicize something that needed more attention. Ryder had no idea how, and he wasn’t a spokesperson type. He’d leave that to Lucas, Greta, and Chief Larabee.
“Okay. Well, thank you again.” The woman hung up without another word.
Ryder pocketed his phone and glanced around to see where Eva, Will, and Lucas had got off to. Will smiled and flirted with a lady looking at a sweet labrador. Eva hovered near the baked goods table, another cup of coffee in her hands. Lucas passed another bagged calendar to a customer and then waved Ryder over.
“Everything okay?”
“News people,” he responded in a low voice. “They wanted to interview me.”
Lucas’s pretty brown eyes widened. “Are you going to do it?”
He shook his head and scratched the back of his neck. “No,” he said, then an uncomfortable thought bloomed in his mind. “Is that… I mean, is that going to hurt your work? Like, are they not going to buy your picture or share your name or something?”
His boyfriend sold another calendar to a preteen girl and her mom before looking up. “No, Ryder. It won’t. I’ve already signed all the paperwork and got my pay. Sweet of you, though, to worry about that.”
Relief ran through him, and he swiped a hand down his beard. “Good. I never want to do anything to hurt you.”
Lucas tasted like sweet cocoa and cinnamon when his lips pressed hot against his own, right there in front of everyone. Including three people waiting to buy calendars. He took their money, handed over the purchases, and reminded them to check out the pets inside and tell their friends, too. When his gaze landed on Ryder’s again, something serious gleamed in the chocolate brown depths. “There’ are only a few ways you could ever hurt me, Ryder.”
“And I’m never going to do any of them.” He stole another kiss before the man in front of the table cleared his throat. “Sorry, go on.”
Clouds scudded across the sky as the afternoon drew on. The pile of calendars on the table shrank. The giant banner with their fundraising goal on it filled in with bright colors to indicate the money they brought in. The dogs headed inside to the warmth, and volunteers switched to feeding and cleaning duties instead of working the crowds.
Ryder said goodbye to Lucas as the sun began to sink in the west. He and other first responders helped with cleanup, but they weren’t staying for the shelter worker’s meeting afterward. Halfway back to his truck, a text came through on the group chat inviting him to the usual bar for a drink and hangout.
Not looking forward to a lonely evening at home, he headed in the opposite direction of his apartment. The bar he, Maverick, Jax, and Zane hung out at was as busy and laid back as ever. As expected, he found them hanging out in the usual booth. He slipped in next to Zane and reached for the empty glass and pitcher.
“Look who it is. The town hero and calendar boy.” Mav grinned and took a sip of his half-empty glass.
Ryder shook his head. “Not you too. The shelter fundraiser was today, and I got enough of that there. Even some lady from the media company called wanting an interview.”
Jax chuckled and shook his head. His tattooed fingers wrapped around his own glass, his elbows planted on the table. “Are you doing it?”
“No way. The picture’s enough publicity for the station. There’ve been a few donations coming in, so that’s all good. We could use some new gear and tech upgrades.”
As the others nodded, Zane spoke up in his deep, quiet voice. “Someone should look over the data from the marketing and calendar sales, and the photo going viral, too, and streamline future fundraisers. There’s no reason you couldn’t replicate…” He trailed off and shook his head. A tiny smile quirked the corner of his lips. “Sorry, work mode activated.”
Mav took the attention back smoothly. He’d known Zane the longest and seemed to know how to make it easier for the quiet man to socialize. “We stopped by, Finn and I, at the shelter. Finn fell in love with this chihuahua, but we’re not in a place to adopt a dog right now. Looked like a great turnout, though.”
Warmth bloomed in Ryder’s chest, and he smiled into his beer glass. His friends might be rough around the edges, but they had tons of heart.
“We even bought a calendar. Maybe you could autograph January for us when you stop by next.” His smirk grew.
Flopping back against the booth cushion, Ryder groaned and rubbed his hand down his beard. “Enough already. I said yes to help the shelter and station. I not a fucking supermodel or anything.”
Zane chuckled. “I ordered mine online.”
Jax snorted and poured more beer. “I picked one up last week during the presale. You’re not just Mr. January, but on the back, and the cover. Either you’re the hot local heartthrob ormaybe…” He tilted his head and bit his lip. “Maybe you have an in with the photographer, hm?”
