Page 30 of Wild Fire

“What time should I pick him up, Darla?” AJ asks, his voice full of humor and sex appeal. I swear it’s the sexiest voice I’ve ever heard.

“Nine is good!”

“Nine?” I yelp. That’s five hours!

Lacey’s definitely going to think I’ve been murdered if I don’t text her and give her the heads up. I’ll have to call her so she doesn’t worry, and I’m sure I’m going to have to explain everything to her later, except I have no clue what I’m going to say. How does one even begin to explain that they went to a damn sex club, got completely wasted, almost got taken advantage of then went home with the firefighter who rescued them the other day and embarrassed the fuck out of themselves and somehow ended up with a job that said sexy firefighter apparently got for me. Without my permission.

Or my consent.

Isn’t that breaking the rules or something?

AJ waves at me with a smile.

“Have fun, Nate.”

I’m going to fucking kill him.

AJ is waiting for me, headlights shining, stereo blasting at precisely eight fifty-five, and I am exhausted. I had no clue what to expect when Darla showed me around the carnival and then stuck me at the ticket booth, but I was not expecting the crowds of kids and adults that we got today. Thankfully, I don’t have to be back until the weekend, which gives me a few days to rest and relax. And plot my revenge against the world’s hottest firefighter. The sound of heavy guitars and drums echoes and I have to scoff because it’s just so… so…

Annoyingly perfect, I guess. AJ hangs out of the window of his pickup truck, the position of his arm drawing attention to his large biceps.

God, he’s so fucking hot, and so good. And probably straight. I mean, there were a few moments where I thought he might be into dick because he seemed almost flirty, but aside from that, he hasn’t given me any indication he is.

Sure, he made that comment about cleaning me up, but some people just have a dirty sense of humor. And some people fantasize a little too much about men they can’t have.

AJ is so out of my damn league, I don’t even know if we’re in the same fucking ballpark. Still, even if we were, I doubt his type would be a hot mess with the worst luck in the world.

He blares the horn, pulling me from my thoughts and I check the clock. Eight fifty-nine. One more minute to go. I stare him down, feeling a sense of pride at his impatience, but I don’t leave my podium until it is precisely nine p.m.

And I take my time walking over to his car.

“You always make people wait for your ass?” he grumbles.

I shrug as I slowly open the passenger door and jump in, but before I can answer him he nods to the seatbelt.

“Seatbelt.”

I glare at him as I make a show of grabbing it and buckling it.

He opens his mouth, and before he can speak, I do.

“Do you always make demands without other’s consent?” I bite. “Or am I just special?”

AJ lets out a low growl, and I hate that the sound makes my stomach flip and my dick twitch. How the fuck does he do that? Am I really that easy?

Yes, apparently I am. Because I have half a nerve to push his buttons just so I can hear it again. But I swear his face pales, and the sight makes me reconsider. His eyebrows furrow and he frowns, like I’ve just told him his damn dog died. Which makes me feel like an asshole. Which… I’m not the asshole, here! He’s the one who showed up and… and… just told me what to do like some child!

“You’re right,” he says, but he doesn’t take off like I expect him to. The sounds of the radio play, Three Days Grace’s “I Hate Everything About You” drones on amidst the rumble of the engine, and I can’t help but raise my eyebrows because I did not expect him to just…

Is he agreeing with me?

“I overstepped. I’m sorry.”

I blink, unsure if I heard him correctly.

“You… are?” I ask, dumbfounded.

AJ nods. “I just…” I watch as he runs a hand through his hair, biting his lip before he lets out another one of those long breaths. “I wanted to help.”