All recognizable characters belong to Janet Evanovich, I'm just playing.
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Chapter 10: Bobby
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Smoke is billowing from the likely- ruined SUV, but it only takes a quick glance to see Steph and Chester Deuce hanging out on the far side of the firetruck parked haphazardly in the street. At their feet sits a scowling man, his hands secured behind his back. Whatever happened to make the Rangeman vehicle go up in flames, they still got their skip. Neither Steph nor Chester look injured, so I continue with my scan of the scene. The fire is out, so the firefighters are moving at a normal, unhurried pace as they deal with the hoses and gear.
So focused on one particular member of the crew, I don't notice Ram right next to me until he drops a hand on my shoulder. The snort tells me he clocked my jolt of surprise before I hid it, but he doesn't say anything. I watch as the hose gets rerolled in preparation for getting put back on the truck before swinging a glance back at Bomber. Both Ram and I tense when the cop strolls up to her and tries to put an arm around her. She shrugs him off and moves a foot back from him, something he's not too happy about. My jaw clenches when Morelli's arms start flying, punctuating whatever what the hell did you do now? bullshit he's spewing.
The tension ratchets back down as Steph crosses her arms and starts tapping her foot. Morelli's mouth stops moving when she makes a get on with it motion with her hand; whatever she says makes him scowl and Chester laughs. Ram shakes his head as Morelli throws up his hands and stomps back to his piece of shit unmarked car. Steph's smiling as she turns to speak with the woman who takes up way more of my thoughts than should be allowed.
"You should ask Bomber to get her number for you."
Shit.
"Don't know what you're talking about." As far as deflections go, it's pretty lame, and Ram's snicker lets me know he sees right through it. I thought I'd hid my interest in Alayna Washington better than that. She's still relatively new on the Trenton FD crew and we butted heads on the scene of one of Steph's misadventures a few months ago. The brother of a skip she was hunting broadsided her little POS Honda with his much larger Dodge pickup, crumpling the Honda like an accordion with Steph in it. Despite needing the jaws of life to get her out, she luckily ended up with only bruises. In a fit of temper, she tried to get back in her car to retrieve her purse when a firefighter in full gear grabbed her and started hauling her back over toward the ambulance.
Pissed, I'd stalked over and grabbed the guy by the shoulder to spin them around and get in his face. Color me surprised when my hand was displaced, and I was shoved back, hard. Instead of going toe to toe with one of the many firefighters I'd met since Steph came into our lives, I found myself speechless and facing off with a beautiful and pissed off woman. Tall, at least 5'10", and wearing full turn-out gear, she was indistinguishable from all the other guys running around the scene. But up close? Stunning. The new ass I'd planned to tear them for grabbing Steph came out with as a toothless "Don't grab her" warning.
I was still processing the skin a few shades lighter than mine, gorgeous chocolate eyes, and full lips when she gently shoved Steph toward me. "Then keep her away from the active scene!"
I can still hear that clear alto voice in my head, months later. Steph was building up a head of steam as mystery woman was backing away. Steph let out a frustrated growl, yelling, "I just wanted my purse. Do you know how much of a pain in the ass it is to replace all that shit?"
The lovely firefighter's mouth ticked up at the corner. "I actually do. Give me a minute."
With that, she walked away, stopping long enough to speak to the uniform in charge. Then she jogged back over to Steph's car, half climbing into the wreck before coming back out with not only Steph's purse, but also a jacket and an immediately recognizable pink bag from Victoria's Secret. She shook the items to remove any debris and started walking toward us. As she approached, she cast a glance between Steph and me. She handed the pink bag over last, remarking, "Can't leave the important stuff behind."
Steph laughed. "Yeah, Ranger would've been disappointed."
Ms. Firefighter extended a hand to me. "The guys have been giving me the rundown. I know she's Stephanie Plum, so you must be Ranger, then?"
That shook me out of my stupor. "Bobby Brown. I'm the medic for Rangeman; Ranger's my boss."
"Oh. Alayna. Just moved down from Buffalo a few weeks ago."
She'd removed her work glove before offering her hand and it was unexpectedly soft. I'd probably held her hand a smidge too long when Steph asked, "Why the change?"
Alayna laughed and the smooth sound washed over me. "Buffalo's fucking cold and there's too much family drama."
Steph smiled. "If you start to miss it, I can share my family drama with you."
They shared a commiserating smile before Alayna put her glove back on, gave us a half-hearted salute, and headed back to work. I'd seen her a few times here and there since then, never quite managing to talk with her again. Didn't mean I hadn't thought about her plenty since then. I'd spied her leaving a coffee shop while I was on patrol, and her tall, athletic body, and close-cropped curly hair definitely did it for me.
"Seriously, dude. Have Steph get her number. She needs a slam dunk on her match-making ledger, anyway."
That gets him an eyebrow raise. He just shakes his head in return. "You look for her at every scene, you can't take your eyes off her when you do see her, and you didn't blank your phone screen fast enough last week to keep me from seeing that you were reading about fucking Buffalo. Nobody cares about Buffalo, and no one moves there unless they're on a sports team. Last I checked, you weren't on the Bills' roster."
"Fuck you." It's a weak comeback and said without heat, but I can't let his observation go unchecked. I was looking at Buffalo out of sheer boredom. Really. Ok, not. In the little time I've spent with her, she's intrigued me, and I want to know more. And she's not wrong. Buffalo in winter looks a lot like Siberia. Screw that.
We watch as Steph laughs, and Chester's eyes get big. He leans down and hauls their skip up by the arm. He says something to Steph before walking the guy to another Rangeman SUV and locking him down in the back and hopping in the passenger seat. Binkie maneuvers the rig around the assorted cop cars and looky-loos on the way to the police station a few blocks away. Mischief managed, the various Rangemen on the scene start heading back to their own vehicles, leaving me, the most senior member of management on sight, to deal with the police report. I don't regret buying into the company, but days like today remind me that it might be nice to go back to being one of the rank and file.
Steph and Alayna go their separate ways and Steph heads toward us. I watch Alayna until she's out of sight, swallowed up in the crowd of firefighters cleaning up the scene. Steph puts a hand on my forearm. "Thanks for coming down and checking on us. Mathers' asshole cousin threw a Molotov, and it rolled under the car. We were too blocked in to get away, so we grabbed Mathers and bailed. Sorry for killing another one."
I grab her hand and squeeze. "Like Ranger says, that's what insurance is for."
Ram asks, "Just out of curiosity, was the cousin trying to help Mathers or take him out?"
"Not sure." Steph shrugs. "They both hit every idiot limb on their fall out of the family tree." She turns to me. "But something good came out of it."
"Yeah?"
Steph takes her phone out and in seconds my phone alerts me to an incoming text. "Yeah. That's Alayna's number. You should call and ask her out."
Ram chuckles and I sigh. "Did you ask for it or did she offer it?" I don't' know why it matters, but for some reason, it does.
"A little bit of both. But I'm totally claiming credit for it when you guys get to dates two, three, eleven and nineteen."
Both Ram and I laugh at her attempt at an eyebrow wiggle. "That's a lot of dates, Bomber."
She shrugs. "I get the feeling that there's a lot to learn about her."
Ram smirks. "And you need some wins after the last few guys you set up."
"Hey! I had no idea I was setting Junior up with an exhibitionist! And Astrid was so assertive there's no way I'd have guessed she'd show up with her mother for her date with Ramon. I mean, who does that?"
Yeah, that was a mess. Even worse was, after Steph left the room, Ramon admitted that the mom could have passed for Astrid's sister. They both hit on him, but the idea of hooking up with a mother/daughter duo wigged him out.
"And what about Woody?"
Ram's totally baiting her, but she's got a smile on her face. They're both silent for a minute before they start to laugh. "Shit. We really shouldn't be laughing, cuz it's really not funny. The poor man is traumatized for life. He's gonna cover his junk whenever he sees soup from now on!"
Ram's right, it's funny, but it isn't. He and his date, Maisie, had been eating dinner and getting to know each other when a couple at the next table broke out into a fight. Apparently, the guy thought that being out in public when admitting to his volatile girlfriend that he was breaking up with her to date her best friend meant she'd be a little more restrained. Nope. She threw her just delivered bowl of tortilla soup in his lap, causing him to jump up and drop trou in the middle of the restaurant. She followed it with her glass of water in his face. Woody, being the stand-up guy he is, tried to intervene and got the guy's bowl of soup tossed at him. It also hit his lap, but luckily, he was wearing jeans rather than thin dress slacks like the other guy, and this soup was a thicker broccoli cheese that didn't permeate the fabric as much. She threw the breadbasket at them, too, ranting about how much men sucked. It wasn't until the manager showed up with a uniformed cop and asked the guy and Woody if they wanted to press charges for assault that she calmed down. Woody declined, but the other guy, and his scorched dick, said hell yeah. After the dust settled, Maisie was quiet and turned down a second date, stating that she didn't do drama and jumping in on someone else's dispute definitely counted as drama.
Steph makes a face. "Yeah, went from one extreme to another. But I hit it out of the park with Raphael. He and Lindsey are on date four or something."
That's true. Raphael swore he wasn't interested in dating, happy for a random hook-up now and then. Until he agreed to call Lindsey, that is. Steph was vague on the details of how she met her, but they've been together a couple weeks and he seems happy.
Ram knocks my shoulder with his. "You going to call the lovely Alayna?" He steps back at the growling sound that emanates from me. "Chill, dude. Just a question."
"Get back to work. Both of you."
They're smirking as they give their own version of a salute, knowing full well that I'm going to call her.
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It takes another day before I have a block of time to make sure I'm not interrupted. My hands are clammy as I listen to the phone ring on the other side, before that beautiful voice answers with a cautious, hello.
"Hi. It's Bobby. Brown. From Rangeman? Steph gave me your number." Shit, this is more awkward than high school when I tried to ask Audrina Bailey out to prom. That didn't go so well and now I'm doubting this whole thing.
"Yeah, hi. Sorry, just got off shift. How are you?"
Things get less awkward as we make it through the basics of fleshing each other out. Things like where we're from, family, likes and dislikes, favorites, and such. I'm pleasantly surprised to realize we have a decent amount in common. Alayna comes across as a smart, competent, funny, take no shit woman and I'm even more on the hook. But she's got a sensitive side, too, as evidenced by the hitch in her voice when we skirt on bad things we've seen. The Army and the things we had to do changed me, and it's clear that bad scenes, like the house fire where they weren't able to save three sisters under the age of ten, have molded her into who she is, as well.
Apparently, she and Steph have met for coffee a few times. That family drama she alluded to at our first meeting was partly her brother being mad that she broke up with his friend, who wasn't supportive of her job. Another part was her dad pressuring her to switch to being a paramedic because it was safer. It makes sense why she and Steph seemed to have clicked. With that in mind, I figure it's best to just flat out ask sooner rather than later. "What is it that you want?"
She laughs. "I want what all women want. Someone to feed me tacos and tell me I'm beautiful."
It's not an answer, but it is. She sobers a bit and continues. "I want someone to support me, to accept that I can do a tough job as well as the guy standing next to me, but I'm doing it with painted toenails, I might cry if kids or puppies are involved, and off-duty I'm likely in lacy britches. Most guys see my size and my job and they either see still too weak to be one of the guys or too masculine to be a girl they're interested in. Fuck that. I'm more than one or the other!"
My brain short circuits at the mention of lacy britches but it comes back online when she asks if she's scared me away.
"Nope. Have dinner with me?"
Now she's silent and I hold a breath, hoping I didn't leap too far. I let it out when I hear, "Ok. But no sushi."
I laugh. "Check, sushi bad, tacos good."
"You're a fast learner, Brown."
We set up a date for the next night. She's covering a partial shift for a co-worker but should be done in time. All the next day I'm watching the clock, counting down until my own shift is done. We're meeting at Rodrigo's, a Mexican restaurant that Ramon swears has the best fish tacos in town. At the end of my shift, I'm out of my office off the med bay. Ram gives me a thumbs up when we cross paths in the stairwell, but I barely spare him a glance. A few traffic violations may have occurred while I'm racing back to my little house not far from the office. A bouquet of pink, yellow and orange flowers is on the seat next to me. Alayna had mentioned that she loved sunrises, and the happy colors reminded me of that.
I'm ten minutes early to Rodrigo's, and nervous as fuck. Forty minutes later, I'm starting to accept that she's a no-show. There's been no text or call from her, and the depth of my disappointment is hard to ignore. After an hour, I walk back to my car, feeling like a chump. I'll see what her excuse was, but I'm already coaching myself to accept that it probably wasn't meant to be.
My phone rings just as I've pulled in the driveway. Steph. I'm still a little raw and not in the mood to admit that I was ghosted. It bumps to voicemail and almost immediately I feel it ping for a text message.
Alayna's with you, right?
What the what?
No. Never showed up.
Turn on the news.
With that, I rush through unlocking the door and heading inside. I don't even have to hunt for whatever Steph is trying to tell me; all the local channels are carrying live footage of a massive warehouse fire. My phone rings again, and this time I answer. "She was covering part of a shift, so she might be there."
Steph's muttered shit sums it up perfectly. "I heard they've been battling it for a couple hours already and called in a third engine company. I texted her, but can you let me know if she messages you?"
"Yeah. I gotta go."
I should feel guilty for hanging up on Steph before she can say anything else, but I don't. Looks like Alayna has a really good excuse, after all. I turn off the tv, not wanting to hear speculation and the anchors searching for something to talk about before there's anything new to report. My phone gets spun around in my hand a few times before I figure out what to say.
Saw the news. Hope you're ok and kicking the fire's ass. Let me know when you're back at the station?
Throwing together a salad to go with some leftover chicken, I think about what dating a firefighter would really mean and that there would be more nights like this. By the time I'm rinsing the dishes, I've decided I'm ok with it. It's not like I have a set 9 to 5 schedule, either. On that note, I turn the tv back on for an update, already making a plan.
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Alayna's text comes in a little after six the next morning. All good, heading back to the station now. I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to message you. I was looking forward to dinner.
Relief washes over me as I text back. Eaten yet?
Nope. Gonna shower at the station and then head home and find my bed.
Time to put my plan into action. Can I interest a beautiful lady in some breakfast tacos first?
Those three annoying dots mock me for nearly a minute before she puts me out of my misery. There's a park a couple blocks up from the station. Don't forget the salsa.
I send a thumbs up back before sending a one-handed She's good text to Steph while throwing off the covers. Time to show Alayna I can be supportive and see both sides of the coin, both strong and sweet.
