From The Inferno (Firemen Do It Better Book 3) Read online

  When he walked me to my house afterwards, I knew he had been upset that I decided to spend the first night in my home. The only reason for that was I couldn’t spend another night in his daughter’s bed and him in another room. I wanted Chase, wanted to make love with him, and instead of telling him that, I led him to believe that I wanted to pursue my new independent life by staying at my house.

  Why couldn’t I speak to him about my wants and needs where it concerned us? I was twenty-five years old with half a dozen major tournament wins to my name, and I couldn’t find the courage to ask the man I was falling in love with to have sex with me.

  Oh, I know. It’s because you have let people rule your every move since the age of twelve. You don’t have a spine of your own, the nagging voice of reason in my head taunted me.

  “Oh, bugger off,” I muttered, forgetting for a second I had an audience.

  “Ah, Jamie, are you okay?” Lake asked, placing a cup of tea and a croissant in front of Tate, both ladies staring at me like I was high or something.

  If only it were that simple. I huffed to myself.

  “Yeah, I am fine, just a little frustrated,” I answered. If these two women could overshare with me about their men, then I was going to do the same. Growing up without any girlfriends to talk to or confide in, I didn’t know the protocol of how far to share. Neither did they, so I was taking a page out of their books.

  Plopping down into the chair across from Tate, I let out a heavy sigh.

  “It’s Chase. He won’t have sex with me. I mean, I think he wants to—we kiss a lot on his couch in front of the TV. Sometimes he puts on a movie and sometimes football is on, but so are our clothes. He has given me orgasms by grinding into me, and the night before last, he kissed my breasts, and then last night, he lifted my top and took his off so our chests were touching, but I want more than that, you know?” I said, looking up at them both. “What?” I asked when I noticed both Lake and Tate were staring at me with their mouths hanging open, their eyes wide and bugged.

  Tate was the first to recover. Sitting forward in her chair, she looked around to see if the other three customers in the store had heard any of my tirade. Luckily for me, Tate had her brain in the right gear.

  “Sweetie, that was a lot of information. Let’s break it down, shall we?”

  I nodded my head and leaned forward, too, and Lake did the same.

  “What I’m getting here is that that you want Chase, and believe me, hon, he wants you, too. He nearly goes up in flames whenever he’s around you, and the fact that he’s doing all those things to your”—Tate paused to wave her hands at my upper body and then below the table—“proves he does want to make love to you only he’s being a gentleman,” Tate said gently, her smile kind.

  “Absolutely. Carson says the man doesn’t stop talking about you at the station. In fact, Carson said he is going to knock him out the next time Chase tells them in fine detail how you drink your hot chocolate,” Lake added with a serious expression on her face.

  I sat there for a second, dumbfounded and speechless, trying to remember how exactly I drank my hot chocolate and why Chase found it so fascinating he needed to share it with his mates.

  “Huh?”

  “Honestly, Lake, now is not the time to tattle,” Tate said, laughing. “Jamie, just talk with the man—be honest with him. Tell him you are ready to take the next step with him. At the barbeque last week, you told Chase you were a virgin—actually, you told all of us. Dylan couldn’t believe you were twenty-five and hadn’t had sex. He went on and on about it when we got home. He said—”

  “Tate! Focus,” Lake shouted at her, her eyes crinkled in silent laughter.

  I couldn’t help it, but I burst out laughing with her. Seriously, these two were a hoot.

  “Oh, sorry, hon. What I am trying to say is that he is just giving you the lead in this. He is waiting for you to say when it’s time and that you are ready. That’s all,” Tate said, giving Lake a triumphant glare.

  “Oh, I see,” I said slowly. “So when I scream his name and beg for more, that isn’t me telling him I am ready?” I asked, growing more and more confused. This woman stuff was harder than I thought. Give me a tennis ball and racquet, and I was a genius. Give me a man, and I was totally clueless.

  A cough from a man on the other table had me gasping in shock. Did he hear me? Did he know Chase?

  “Oh, don’t worry about Mr Richards. He’s deaf as a post,” Lake said, putting me at ease. “And to answer your question, no, it’s not. Men are basically dumb. Some need road maps when it comes to a woman’s body, and some need guidance when it comes to our minds. Luckily for us, our men have the knowledge of our bodies under control.”

  Tate nodded enthusiastically at Lake’s conclusion of the males in our life, and I had to agree with them. Chase certainly did know how to make me burn, and his hands were just as masterful as his lips and tongue were. That much was definitely true.

  “Okay, this is good advice, ladies. A more direct approach is needed. Maybe I should go over there, and tell him—” I was cut off by two hands slapping over my mouth.

  “No!” they both shouted at the same time, getting the attention of the other customers.

  Lake gave her customers an apologetic smile then turned back to me. “Maybe we should change the subject. I know, Brooke has a sports day next week, and I was wondering if you wanted to come. It’s a great day, and I can safely say that she has finally chosen a sport she is interested in.”

  My interest was piqued immediately. I loved sport, which was why I got into tennis in the first place. My love for the game never wavered. It was just the way professional sports interfered in one’s life that complicated matters for me, blurring the lines between enjoyment and resentment.

  And Colin, of course, but I wasn’t going there. The happy bubble I found myself in since I arrived here in Ballarat almost made me forget about that last day in Sydney, and I was hoping to keep it that way for a little while longer. Though telling Chase about it and why I did what I did was looming.

  “Really, how exciting. What has she picked?”

  “Tennis.”

  That was when I quite literally fell out of my chair.

  12

  “Knox’s parents would like to know if your guys would kindly be pallbearers for the funeral,” Mike asked the room at large. The day room was full with everyone who worked at the station, those on shift today and those on their days off.

  Everyone immediately raised their hands. Knox may have been below par as a firefighter, but he was still one of us, and he died on the job.

  He died too young.

  The realisation that I watched Knox die right in front of me still hadn’t really hit me, and the anger that boiled inside of me blocked me from feeling his loss just yet.

  And I was angry, pissed off to the max that Knox made his way into the building, and I wanted to know why and how.

  “Not to sound insensitive here, Mike, but who the hell gave the recruit permission to leave the tanker?” I asked the question every man sitting in the room wanted to ask but didn’t.

  Mike paced to the window then back to the large rectangular table we used to eat our meals at.

  “According to the Sebastopol unit, he asked to use their ladder to go up to the second story, told them he was ordered to go in,” Mike said, his expression just as pissed off as the rest of us.

  “What in the hell was he thinking? We never go in from the second story if the whole fucking place is on fire,” Carson shouted, his fists coming down hard on the table.

  “We gave him a hard time before we went in, Hoges, so maybe he felt like he had to prove something,” Hoove offered, and I could see the guilt on his face, but Hoove hadn’t been the only one. Knox would have heard me calling him names, insisting I not work with him ever again. I held firm to my opinion Knox would never have been a good firefighter, but the bumbling youngster had a heart of gold and put up with constant ribbing from all
of us. I was going to miss him—mostly.

  It was Carson I felt for. He went in to bat for Knox so many times, every time he fucked up or slept in and was late for work. While Carson helped him, all I did was yell at him and throw insults. I was not proud of my behaviour and wished I had handled some situations differently.

  “Get that look off your face, Chase. You, too, Hoove. Knox made the worst choice a fiery could make. He went in alone to prove himself and nothing else,” Carson told us, his voice choked with emotion. “His decision compromised the safety of my two senior men. It was inexcusable, and I will be putting that in my report,” Carson said firmly, looking over at Mike and our commander.

  Their curt nods of approval with everything Carson said eased my guilt a little. I hated that my last words to Knox were insults, and if I could take it back, I would in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, life had a way of turning lemonade into lemons, well, for me at least.

  “So how are things going with your neighbour?” Hoove asked me three hours later. After the meeting about Knox, Mike thought that busying ourselves with some good old-fashioned truck washing was in order. So here we were, soaping up truck number two out in the yard. Washing wasn’t enough for Mike, though. Oh no, he thought a thorough polishing of every single chrome piece on the trucks would be fun, too.

  Fun my arse. This part of the job was more of a punishment than a morale-building exercise. Heaving out a sigh, I faced Hoove.

  “Did you grow a vagina, Hoove? Why is my relationship with Jamie any interest to you,” I asked with a snarl, but I was only pulling his leg. Hoove and I had a close bond. Jason might have been the one to pull my head out of my arse years ago, but it had been Hoove and Carson that pulled me out of a gutter, drunk as a skunk. They saw that I made it to work on time after a major bender or picked up the slack around the farm when I was too hungover to get out of bed. Without them, I shuddered to think where I would be today.

  All of that didn’t stop me from yanking Hoove’s chain just a bit.

  “As a matter of fact, mate, I am very much in tune with my feminine side. Tate tells me regularly it blows her mind how much I know about the workings of the female mind.”

  “Oh, really. Do you also know what sarcasm is? Maybe you should ask Tate,” I said, ribbing him. I had no doubt Tate deserved a trophy for being the most tolerant wife in the world.

  “Is this avoiding the question, Chase?”

  “Fine. Yes, everything is going well with Jamie. We are taking things slow and steady, but as far as I am concerned, she is the one for me.”

  Hoove dropped the sponge in his hand to the bucket at his feet, a big old fat smile on his ugly mug.

  “Well, I will admit that is good news, mate. She suits you, Chase, even better than Melly did,” Hoove said quietly. Hoove might be a big guy in size and very intimidating to those who didn’t know him, and to some who did, but the man was a marshmallow inside.

  Whenever he spoke of Prue or Mel, he used a quiet, respectful, almost reverent tone of voice. He surprised the shit out of me six months after Prue died when he came to work one day with a small ladybug tattoo, no bigger than a five cent piece, on the inside of his wrist to honour the life of Prue. My little bug.

  I am man enough to admit I cried when he showed me. The next day, I went and got one for myself, my first and only tattoo.

  Hoove felt shit deep, but not many other than the guys he worked with, his family, and his wife saw that in him. He even had the names of his niece and nephew on his chest, something he did to support his brother when they were born premature, and their survival had been touch and go. Like I said, Hoove was a big old marshmallow, and that reason alone was why the man was going to be an awesome dad.

  “Thanks, mate. I reckon so, too,” was all I said. Getting into her real last name and her sporting celebrity status didn’t seem right. It was her story to tell, and she would when she was ready, but I hoped that time was soon. My heart was already one hundred percent in, and I feared she had the power to destroy it.

  Hoove’s phone started ringing in his pocket, and the ring tone ‘I’m Too Sexy’ had my eyes rolling.

  “Seriously,” I muttered.

  “Don’t hate me because you ain’t me,” Hoove quipped, then frowned at his screen before he swiped the phone open. “Why aren’t you FaceTiming me, Doll?” he barked, then his face split with a shit- eating grin. “Okay, beautiful. Want me to meet you at the hospital? You’re across the street? Well, move your sexy arse woman. Let’s go do this, we have a baby comin’.”

  I watched my mate listen to whatever Tate was saying to him, and judging by the sheepish look on his face, I took a leap and assumed Hoove ate all the breakfast food again that morning.

  “I’ll make it up to you. Yes, I will. I’m giving you a baby, woman, so that makes up for eating the last half a loaf of bread. You know I love you, dollface.”

  Getting the gist of the reason for Hoove’s phone call, I walked off, chuckling, not wanting to listen to Hoove defend his appetite and promise his wife sexual bliss.

  Walking into the day room, I sought out Carson and found him in the kitchen.

  “Yo, Hoges. Looks like Tate’s sister is in labour. We gotta go,” I told him, excited for our friend and his beautiful wife. The loss they suffered at the hands of an idiot truck driver not only broke the couple’s hearts but it nearly broke them. Thankfully, Hoove was a persistent bastard and had no boundaries when it came to his wife. He wouldn’t allow her to fall into a dark place, nor would he allow their dream of being parents one day die.

  “Shit. Righto. Go tell Mike we are going with Hoove. He knows Hoove wants us there with him,” Carson said, quickly downing the cup of coffee he’d just finished making when I walked in.

  Giving him a thumbs up, I rushed off to find the senior station officer. In the back of my mind was excitement at maybe seeing Jamie at the hospital when I arrived. Leaving her this morning without seeing her or getting to steal a kiss from her left me feeling a little empty.

  The gorgeous lady overwhelmed me with her beauty and was never far from my thoughts. Everything about her consumed me—the noises she made when I kissed her ample breasts, the screams of pleasure when she ground her pussy against my knee, sending her off into a hard orgasm.

  She had inserted herself into my life in such a short space of time, and while I found that a little worrying, at the same time, it wasn’t fast enough.

  Hearing Hoove’s thumping footsteps coming down the hall, I put all thoughts of Jamie aside for the moment. Raising my fist to knock on Mike’s door, I assured myself it wouldn’t be long before I get to see her.

  “It’s a boy! We have a son!”

  I let out a shrill whistle when Hoove burst into the waiting room, yelling the arrival of his baby.

  “Oh, my God, that is fantastic!” Lake squealed, launching herself into Hoove’s arms.

  I laughed at the low growl that came from Carson as he walked up to the big lead firefighter and slapped him on the back. Then he carefully and not so subtly removed his wife from Hoove’s embrace.

  Getting up from the uncomfortable plastic chair with Jamie in my arms, I placed her on the ground then took her hand and led both of us over to congratulate my best friend.

  Since we arrived in the waiting area, I hadn’t let go of Jamie. I held her hand and rubbed her back in soothing circles while she sat on my lap. I touched her constantly, getting her used to my touch, to what I wanted with her.

  Closeness, affection, love.

  All three were a must.

  “Come on back. Tate and the baby have been moved to a private room. Autumn and David are in their own room,” Hoove said, leading us down the hallway.

  I raised my brows quizzically. “How come?” I asked.

  “It’s standard procedure with surrogacy and adoptions. The experts think it is better for the surrogate or birth mother to be separated from the baby not long after giving birth. It’s kinder to them, I guess,” Hoove explained
, but he didn’t sound worried at all.

  Autumn hadn’t gone into this without giving it a lot of thought. Yes, the egg came from Autumn, but the sperm came from Hoove. Tate’s sister understood the baby didn’t belong to her, but I could see it would be hard for her to travel to Thailand, go through nine months, a delivery, and end up with empty arms. Her selfless act humbled us all considering for most of her life, Autumn was a little flaky.

  “Is she okay?” Jamie asked from beside me.

  “Autumn? She is fine. We are sending her and David back to Thailand to recuperate and have the holiday they missed out on when were all there so many months ago, the start of this miracle. She said she would meet her nephew when they get back, after Tate and the baby have had time to bond.”

  “What did you call the baby?” Jamie asked again. Her excitement was bubbling over with each step closer to the maternity unit.

  Did she like babies? Did she want any? Questions swam around my head, questions that should wait for a while longer, much longer. But I wanted kids, more of them, and I wasn’t getting any younger. If things had been different, I would have been the father of a nineteen-year-old today. Likely Prue would have been in university by now, driving, voting, living. Anything other than in a grave.

  “I figure that Tate didn’t get to carry our son or deliver him, so the next best thing is for her to tell you our son’s name.”

  As Lake and Jamie oohed and aahed over what Hoove said, his cocky swagger told us all he knew how awesome he was, or thought he was, but Carson and I knew better.

  “Making up for leaving her with no food this morning, hey, Hoove,” Carson said, knowingly as he gave me a wink.

  “Fuck off,” Hoove mumbled.

  “Uh-uh, none of that. You are a parent now, Hoove. Gotta watch the language” I reprimanded him, only half serious. I knew from experience how easy a small child could pick up bad words. Prue said shit for a whole week before Melly and I finally got her to say something different and forget the curse word. My fault, of course. Being seventeen at the time, I hadn’t grasped having a one-year-old. I learned pretty quickly after that.