Was she doing it for the attention?

Maybe.

What woman who knows her worth doesn't understand the power it generates?

She knew she looked good in a black tube top that showed off her statuesque shoulders and hugged her lean torso devilishly, but comfortably. She was glad for small boobs because flailing around on a mechanical bull would spell embarrassment for anyone C-cup or higher. Her high-waisted, dark navy jeans were also a blessing in disguise tonight when she decided to go for the mechanical bull riding record at the trainees' favorite bar.

Tonight, that trophy-a Viking helmet with beer tubes for Heidi-like braided pigtails-was hers.

So yeah. She somewhat planned to cause trouble tonight and relish in the attention it brought along. Deep down, she knew the high she was chasing: the adrenaline she felt by feeding off the laughter of everyone having good time. Good, clean fun; it was something she hadn't always abided by in life.

Though once in a while she might take it too far with the drinking, none of this chase compared to her junkie days. Nursing a hangover every so often was nothing compared to the weeks she'd spend wrecked from being high or, worse, in withdrawal cause she couldn't score a fix. Those days made her shudder thinking about how weak she was, how broken.

Becoming a firefighter and continuing to turn her life around so she could help others not end up where she had been meant everything to her. And tonight, she was celebrating another hurdle down: finishing the academy's tactical training course. And in one more week, she'd have her official academy graduation ceremony. She'd be a real, genuine firefighter.

Of course, this was thanks in large part to a delicious lieutenant for a training instructor.

Kelly Severide was the stuff of legends. Gorgeous to look at, but also capable, caring, dedicated, and loyal to a fault. They just didn't make men like him anymore. Stella would know as she thought about how her marriage to Grant seemed to be unraveling further beyond her control each day.

The strength she had found in herself during training was part of a changed Stella that Grant couldn't seem to understand. It bothered him that she didn't need him anymore for emotional strength. He was stuck in a dark cycle of passion and creativity followed quickly by depression and futility. She ached for him to find the spark for himself that she found in becoming a firefighter. They had been through so much together. She didn't want to leave him behind as she moved forward with her life.

But that was where she was headed. Forward. And it felt amazing.

Stella let out a whoop of delight to shake away her concerns about Grant. And the crowd responded in kind, all except one enigmatic man facing the bar. He was probably the only red-blooded male in the place not watching her hawkishly waiting for a nip slip that her last-minute decision to wear double-sided tape ensured wouldn't happen.

Kelly Severide.

God, that sizzle between them. She might have chalked it up to imagination, but intuition told her otherwise. She'd made an impression on him. There was an attraction there, for sure. He might keep it aloof and professional at the academy while barking out drill orders, but those blue-grey eyes of his gave him away. There were days she felt them burn a hole into her as she ran up and down ladders and heaved hoses across the academy floor. Those eyes couldn't lie if they tried.

And just then, for the first time tonight, she locked gazes with those penetrating blue-grey eyes across the room. He'd finally looked up from the drink he'd been working on for hours. His full attention was turned to her as the bull ramped up beneath her like the anticipatory click-click-click of roller coaster gears climbing up that first steep incline.

She felt her stomach knotting while her eyes drank in the sight of his dark grey henley stretching taut against his chest as he leaned against the bar's edge, shoulders back, casual as can be. The glimpse of his gold chain necklace peeking through the opening of his shirt was the only thing to lighten up his look. The eight o'clock shadow of his beard had darkened his face even more than usual, which only highlighted the piercing effect of his eyes on her. Through her.

Stella unconsciously moved to wipe her sweaty brow and brush some of her wild curls out of her face, all while not breaking eye contact with his intense, soul-probing gaze.

Seconds later, she let out a yelp as the bull suddenly dipped and thrust her ass into the air. Not stopping there, it then started to pulsate manically, which made her butt bounce around on the bull while she held on for dear life. She mentally cursed the little pervert of a bull driver. He knew exactly what he was doing as she felt the blood rushing to her face being nearly upside down, helpless to make any of it look at least slightly more graceful.

But, she was determined to hold on.

Just twelve seconds more, and she will have broken the record. The crowd's cheers grew louder as the timer showed how close she was approaching the previous record.

Ten seconds.

She wanted this win. She wanted another amazing memory to cap off this successful day of training. She, Stella Kidd, was taking life by the horns, and the irony of that statement was not lost on her.

Six seconds.

Just a few more moments. And then maybe she'd head over to the bar to find out what exactly was going through the mind of the sexy-ass man hastily downing a shot.

Five seconds.

She knew it was dangerous to poke at him, the rumored ladies man numero uno of the Chicago Fire Department.

Four seconds.

It'd be outrageously scandalous too. He was her instructor, a decorated lieutenant, a legacy kid in the CFD.

Three seconds.

And she was married. Grant would go nuts if he ever witnessed the heat of the looks they were exchanging.

Two seconds.

None of that really mattered to her in that moment, though. His pull was simply too magnetic.

One second.

It couldn't hurt to make mere conversation. All they would do is talk.

Zero.