Page 102 of Rising Heat

“It’s, uh…” he starts.

“Someone who likes to fuck first responders,” Mack says evenly.

I look between them.

Then back at Mack.

Then—

Holy shit.

Am I a bunny?

Mack catches on before I can say a word. His gaze drops briefly to the table before finding mine again, the corner of his mouth threatening to betray him.

“Someone who likes to fuck people because they’re first responders,” he clarifies.

“Oh.” I let out a slow breath. “Right.”

Tyler drags his tongue across the inside of his lower lip like he knows exactly where my brain just went, and the sight of it sends a slow pulse of heat straight to the center of my thighs.

“I need another drink,” I announce, already climbing out of the booth before I embarrass myself further.

Unfortunately, the booth is not designed for graceful exits, which results in clamoring over Tyler’s lap while trying to wedge myself out with all the grace of a newborn baby deer.

His hands find my waist automatically, steadying me before I can make a complete spectacle of myself.

“Careful, Trouble,” he rumbles.

Definitely moving to another city.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

darcy

The ride home is short, but the loaded silence makes it feel like we might as well be on a road trip through New England.

We pile into the back of a Toyota Corolla—Tyler on my left, Mack on my right, and me wedged in the middle with about as much personal space as a carry-on in an overhead compartment. Between broad shoulders, long legs, and exactly zero apparent concern for the concept of boundaries, they settle in like this is the most natural thing in the world.

Mack’s thigh rests against mine.

Tyler’s arm stretches along the back of the seat behind my shoulders.

I sit very, very straight and make a heroic attempt to think about literally anything else.

Groceries. Laundry. The Roman Empire.

Instead, my brain lands on the fact that they’re both practically spread-eagled with me in the middle.

I think the universe is trying to tell me something.

The only eggs I can think about right now are the ones that might’ve just been fertilized by sheer proximity.

“You’re pretty tense for someone who volunteered to sit in the middle,” Tyler says, practically glowing with himself.

“I didn’t volunteer,” I breathe. “There’s three of us and I’m the smallest. This was basic geometry.”

Tyler doesn’t even bother trying to hide his amusement.