Ford’s Adam’s apple bobs, and there’s a look in his eyes Ican’t quite place before he finally says, “I’m no hero; just doin’ my job.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, okay, whatever you say, Cap.”
Once everything’s put together, Ford and I load all the garbage and boxes into the bed of my truck. I’ll run it to the dump sometime tomorrow. Standing beside him in front of my truck, the urge to kiss him hits me. And not even a kiss meant to start anything hot. I just like kissing him…which is probably more than a little weird to say. Sure, I’ve always enjoyed a good make-out session, but it usually comes with intentions.
Clearing his throat, Ford says, “Thanks for your help tonight.”
“No problem, Cap. Can’t have you pullin’ an all-nighter and doin’ it by yourself. My mama would have my ass if she knew I let that happen.”
He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll be sure to tell her that her son is a southern gentleman.”
“’Preciate that,” I tease. The smile on his face is genuine and light. It steals the breath right out of my lungs.
“I’d invite you to stay,” he says, gesturing toward the house, “but I’m beat. Between the long drive and puttin’ all that together, I could probably sleep a week straight.”
I wave him off. “All good, Cap. You have yourself a good night. But I’ll be seein’ ya soon, that’s a promise.”
His lip twitches, and I swear there’s a flirty glint in his eye. “I don’t doubt it. Night, Hollis.”
Climbing in my truck, I make the short drive back to my place, and by the time I get inside and kick off my shoes, I’ve got a feeling swirling around inside of my stomach that I don’t understand. Coming over under the guise of helping him was mostly an excuse just to see him, spend time with him, andmaybe even fuck him. I’m not even disappointed that nothing sexual happened. I just spent the last several hours with Ford—the hot-ass fire captain I’m now hooking up with—but we didn’t do anything, didn’t even kiss, and yet, it was…satisfying. Like, really fucking satisfying.
Who am I?
And what the hell’s up with that?
Twenty
Ford
“What’s a bukkake?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I mumble under my breath, pinching the bridge of my nose.
Hollis chokes on the drink he just took, hand flying up to cover his mouth. He barely manages to swallow as Larry looks at each of us, his brows furrowed, clear confusion written all over his face, while holding up the ‘pixelated bukkake’ card he just drew. “Oh, fuck, that’s great.”
“Well, what is it?” Larry asks again.
Remi snorts beside me while Finn clears his throat across the table, trying not to laugh.
“It’s probably best you don’t know,” Hollis says, tears in his eyes from how hard he’s laughing. “Don’t need to be horrifyin’ you tonight.”
“What’s what?” Ash asks, padding back into the living room with a Bud Light and a can of some spiked seltzer in his hands. Handing one to Finn, he sits beside him and glances around the table. “What’d I miss?”
“I wanna know what the hell a bukkake is,” Larry grumbles as he tosses the card on the table for everyone to see.
Ash huffs a breath and nods. “Oh, that’s when a bunch of men come on another person.”
Larry’s face twists up, like he sucked on a lemon. “Well, for Pete’s sake. Who the hell comes up with this shit?”
Meeting my gaze across the table, Hollis’s eyes are lit up with mirth as he takes a pull from his beer. He invited everyone over for game night tonight. Even though I declined the invite, feeling it wasn’t a good idea, given our current situation and his friendship with my lieutenant, Remi insisted I come, so here I am. Hollis grilled steaks for everyone when we first got here and managed tonotstart a fire this time. I’m about three beers deep, and we’ve all been playing Cards Against Humanity for a while now. It’s my first time playing, and while it’s kind of a fucked-up game, it’s also pretty damn entertaining. Larry has never played either. He keeps forgetting the directions, then gets all grumbly when it’s his turn. It doesn’t help that he also doesn’t understand what half the cards mean, which admittedly makes it all the more amusing.
“Who’s winnin’ so far?” Hollis asks.
“Probably your brother,” Remi says, glancing at Finn as he counts his black cards.
Finn glances up. “I’ve got nine.”
“Goddamn,” Hollis mutters. “Since fuckin’ when are you funny? I always win.”
