Chapter 2
Rowan
“Sit!”
The little ball of fluff disregards my order and barrels toward me.
I scowl, watching the puppy nibble on my boot as her tail wags a hundred miles a minute. Then she stops and turns around. I’m no puppy expert, so I don’t catch on to what the little weasel is doing until I see a puddle of yellowish liquid spreading around my feet.
“For the love of—”
Uproarious laughter booms from the other side of the room. Glancing at one of the occupied single beds with a glare, I snap at my co-worker, “Shut up, Kevin.”
He and I are the only ones in the sleeping quarter. The others are in their chosen corners of the firehouse, just waiting out the shift. It’s three a.m. and it’s been a dead night, which is a good thing. None of us ever prays for fires to break out.
Grimacing, I lift my foot out of the puddle and shake it off. The puppy stares up at me with her tongue hanging out as if she’s expecting a pat on the head for pissing all over my boot.
“Good girl,” Kevin coos. “Don’t be nice to him until he starts being nice to you.”
“Seriously?” All I do is give Kevin another heated glower. He’s also my brother-in-law, so I can’t deck him in the face. Although I should because he could have stopped my sister from giving me a goddamn dog for my birthday.
Melanie thought she was so clever and funny, gifting me this furball. She said I needed something in my life to mellow me out a little. I glance at the pup on my way to find something to clean up her mess. I don’t feel mellow in the least. I’m just really irritated.
Sighing, I roll the bucket and mop to the puddle and get to get to work. My little companion, which I don’t intend to keep, sniffs the mop as I wipe.
“What am I going to do with you, Dog?” That’s what I’ve been calling her since she was delivered to my house.
“Row, it’s been a week. Why haven’t you named her yet?”
“Because I’m not keeping her.”
Kevin snaps shut the book he’s been staring into for the past hour. “You can’t give away your sister’s birthday gift.”
“Oh, yeah? Watch me.” Mel will be pissed but... tough. You don’t saddle someone with a whole living creature to take care of without permission. Her effort to “humanize” me has failed.
I huff when Dog gnaws at the mop. Gazing at the creature, even I have to admit she’s cute—a two-month-old golden retriever with a white coat and adorably floppy ears. But I’m not a pet person. She deserves to be with a nice, loving family with kids and other pets.
“You know, Kevin, this didn’t have to happen. You could have told Mel what a horrible idea it was to get me a pet. I thought you were my friend.”
He quirks one eyebrow. “Uh... I’m not. Last week you said—and I quote—‘Fuck off, Kev, we’re not friends.’”
Grinning sheepishly, I finish my pee-cleaning task. “I did say that, didn’t I?”
I’d said those exact words after he tried to talk me out of hooking up with one of the groupies that hang around our favorite bar. The word around here is that she’s a little unhinged, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to get laid—nothing more to it.
Kevin had told me that, as a friend, he wanted to advise me against hooking up with any of the badge bunnies that chased firefighters and cops. I’d told him he wasn’t my friend, and I didn’t need his advice.
“Come on, Kev, I was borderline drunk when I said that.”
His eyes narrow. “I think you meant every word.”
Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. What can I say? I’m not sure if we’re friends. He’s been married to my sister for eight months. I didn’t like him at first, but he seems to make Mel happy, and he’s grown on me. I glance down at the pup who’s now chasing her tail and snort. Just like I don’t do pets, I don’t really do friends. Well, I have exactly one friend, and no one would believe we’re actually close. We make a very odd pair.
Kevin shakes his head when I don’t respond. His stare is making me a little uneasy and I’m actually relieved when the silence is pierced by the emergency alarm, followed by the dispatcher over the intercom giving details about a fire.
We’re on the move immediately. I make it out the door before I realize I grabbed the puppy, too—a reflex since I’ve been carting the little girl around for days. Rushing past Chief Mitchell’s office, I spot him in my periphery and do a U-turn. Just as he steps out, I shove the puppy into his hands.
He holds her up to examine her, his gray eyebrows cinching together.
“Just hold on to her until I get back.”
Looking skyward, he sighs. “Whatever, Cavanaugh.”
I smirk. The chief and I go way back so he won’t be too pissed about the impromptu babysitting gig.
The team is ready, and the firetruck pulls outs of the station in sixty seconds flat.
“How does it feel to be heading to a normal fire?” Kevin shouts over the truck’s siren.
I grunt, amused by the term “normal fire.” As if there’s such a thing. “Feels just as dangerous as any other fire,” I shout back.
Kevin is referring to my full-time job as a smokejumper. For most of the year I’m off parachuting into the middle of wildland fires, which are plenty here in California. Off-season, I work part-time for the Redding Fire Department.
I love my job as a firefighter so much I can’t keep my ass still for a whole three months. Working isn’t even a necessity for me. I’m in a position to sit pretty at home or go on vacation every week if I want. But this job means something to me. Most of the time, I feel like it’s the only thing I have.
***