Just Add Ice, page 6
Heat flushed over the back of Nick’s neck and into his cheeks, and he knew it had nothing to do with the warmth of the day.
“Right,” he said, his voice tight. “Inform the safety officer.”
Rayne leaned a little closer, the space between them becoming heated and frenetic.
“I will tell you everything from now on.”
His voice was low and growly and so damn sexy, it sent shivers racing down Nick’s back and into his groin.
Goddammit
He would not get a hard-on at work. Nick stepped back and hurried away, his footsteps pounding to the beat of his racing heart. He kept walking until he was in the command center. He stopped in the middle of the room, not sure what to do next. His gaze landed on the kitchenette. He grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it halfway with cold tap water.
“It wouldn’t be the first time you know,” Sabrina said behind him as he lowered the now empty glass on the counter.
“First time for what, Rina?” Nick asked, but knowing damn well what she was getting at. He’d acted unprofessionally. So much so that he hadn’t even realized she’d followed him into the office.
“It wouldn’t be the first time an instructor and a trainee made a love connection,” she said.
Nick snorted. Love connection was pushing it, though he couldn’t deny there was absolutely a connection. He just didn’t think he’d been that obvious. Until today.
She raised an eyebrow, and he ran a hand through his hair.
“Am I that obvious?”
“To anybody who knows you and is looking,” she said with a shrug as she leaned her hip against the counter. “And I’ve noticed the way you both look at each other.”
“Nothing is happening between us,” Nick said, cringing at the defensive note in his voice.
“And it’s fine if it does,” Sabrina said softly. “It’s okay to feel again, Nick.” Then she smiled. “Just keep it in your pants until the program is over.”
“It’s more than that.” Nick huffed a sigh and copied Sabrina’s pose, leaning against the counter, but he couldn’t make eye contact with her. “I feel like . . . Like I’m betraying Geoff. That feeling anything for somebody else is breaking my vows.”
“Oh, honey.” Sabrina pulled him into a hug. “You are the last person on earth who could betray anybody. But do you really think Geoff would want you to spend the rest of your life alone? Would you want that for him if it had been you instead of him?”
He shook his head, his throat too thick to speak.
“You two had a wonderful relationship,” Sabrina continued, “but don’t let his loss be the end of your life, too.”
FIRE TRAINING WAS OVER and that same feeling at the end of a hockey season, of being cast out to drift on his own when his teammates all left town, came over Rayne.
He sat at a desk in a two-hundred-person-capacity lecture hall-cum-classroom at the training center, with thirteen remaining trainees out of the original twenty. Only a few, like Chip Morin, had quit, but the rest had either failed to grasp the skills it took to be a firefighter, or had failed their final written and oral exams.
Today, they had come in to collect their official certificates and receive career guidance for their next steps. There weren’t a lot of jobs available in the Boulder area, and many of the soon-to-be firefighters would fan out across Colorado, or to another state. But one thing Rayne knew for sure was that the only place he wanted to work out of was Boulder.
Holy shit!
Realization slammed Rayne back in his chair as though he’d taken a body check into the boards, earning a surprised look from both Wash and Thatcher.
This whole past week he’d been looking forward to moving forward as a firefighter, of starting his new career at a local station, giving no thought at all to hockey or what next season might bring. He frowned. How had he gone from firefighting as backup for after hockey to hockey as the afterthought?
But before he could think on it too much, Lieutenants Seavers and Verlice, and Firefighter Capmany entered the classroom and stood next to Captain Poverly.
Rayne swallowed at the sight of Nick in his navy station pants and same-colored form-fitting Boulder Fire Training T-shirt. The instructors were all sporting the same station wear, as they had throughout training, but the way Nick wore it got all of Rayne’s synapses firing. Who knew he had a man-in-uniform kink? Or maybe it was just a Lieutenant Seavers in anything kink.
But Nick was officially no longer his instructor, and Rayne wasn’t leaving without a date, or at the very least, Nick’s phone number.
“Congratulations on completing your firefighting training,” Captain Poverly began. “You’ve done well on your final exams, and I’m happy to elevate you all to rookie status. Let’s give a big round of applause for all of you getting this far.”
Nick’s gaze collided with Rayne’s and locked on while the officers’ claps echoed throughout the large hall. A crooked grin tugged at the corners of Nick’s mouth.
“Thank you,” Rayne shouted when they were done, not looking away from Nick. “We couldn’t have done it without you. I think you’re all owed a round of applause, too.”
The newly minted rookies joined in with Rayne, and Thatcher whistled so loud Rayne thought his eardrums might burst.
“Okay, okay.” Captain Poverly raised his hands, laughing. “Come and get your certificates.”
“One more thing,” Firefighter Capmany called out as they began filing toward the front of the room. “I’m having a barbecue and pool party at my house on Saturday, and you’re all invited.” He pointed to a short stack of file card-sized paper on the desk. “My address and phone number are here. I’m planning on all of you being there, but please call if you can’t make it.”
“And if you don’t make it, you’ll miss out on the best barbecue you’ve ever had,” Lieutenant Verlice added. “You’ve been warned.”
Everyone dispersed as they collected their certificates and Capmany’s party directions, thanking their instructors individually before leaving. Rayne hung back until everybody cleared out so that he could get a minute alone with Nick.
When it was finally just the two of them, Rayne shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans as a rare wave of uncertainty washed through him. Nick mirrored the action.
“Will you be there?” Not what Rayne had wanted to say, but the weird sense of shyness that suddenly gripped him chose an easy opening. “At Capmany’s barbecue?”
“You heard Verlice.” Nick grinned. “No one passes on invites to Capmany barbecues or dinners.”
“That good, is it?”
A quiet mmm escaped Nick’s mouth and sent tingles racing over Rayne’s skin.
“You don’t even know.”
Rayne didn’t think Nick meant to say that so seductively, but that was how it sounded to Rayne’s ears. And he wanted to hear it again. Preferably somewhere private. With less clothing. And him being the one to draw that sexy moan from Nick.
Rayne rocked on his heels when the charged silence between them stretched, the words in his head deciding to play hide-and-seek. He got the feeling the same was happening with Nick, going by the way he was intently watching him, eyes searching. As though he had something to say but was hoping Rayne would say it first. That, or Rayne was projecting. Which he probably was, because damn, he was tired of keeping himself in check around Lieutenant Seavers.
“So . . . I’m just going to put it all out there,” Rayne blurted in a rush.
Nick raised an eyebrow, and a quirk of a smile lit his face, but he didn’t say anything. Just waited for Rayne to continue.
“I know we haven’t spent a lot of time together outside of training, but I’ve been attracted to you since the first day,” Rayne said, hoping he wasn’t making a complete fool of himself. But better a fool than to spend the rest of his life wondering what if. “I started dreading Fridays because that meant I wouldn’t be seeing you for two full days, and looking forward to Mondays so I could see you again. I think about you more than hockey, which is weird because hockey has been my whole life for a long time.”
“Hamilton, I—”
“Rayne,” he interrupted. He desperately wanted to hear his given name on Nick’s tongue.
Light flashed in Nick’s golden-flecked eyes. “Rayne.”
Rayne’s heart did a little tap dance at the soft, reverent way Nick said his name, but then Nick pursed his lips and his jaw ticked.
“I’m just saying,” Rayne rushed in when Nick didn’t continue, afraid if he didn’t get it all out now, he never would. He pulled his hands from his pockets, letting one hang while he made to reach toward Nick with the other, but stopped himself. “That I want to get to know you better. I want to hang out with you outside of all things fire and go for that drink or dinner or whatever you’d like. And now that training is out of the way, you and I aren’t inappropriate anymore, so there’s nothing to stop us from spending time together.”
Except if Nick said no.
Rayne held his breath, hoping his word vomit wasn’t too much as he waited for Nick’s response. But Nick’s mouth remained firmly shut.
Rayne’s bravado slipped when Nick looked away and Rayne braced himself for rejection, even though he knew Nick felt the same because there was no way all that crackling energy Rayne felt between them could be one-sided. Not with the way Nick tracked him in the training yard and the heated looks he cast his way and the sexy as fuck blush that colored his cheeks when Rayne caught him looking, or when Rayne was near or made a suggestive double entendre.
“I’ll admit,” Nick said finally with a ragged edge to his voice, and when his warm eyes met Rayne’s, there was a mix of desire and melancholy swimming in them. “I am attracted to you, too. I’m just . . . I’m not sure I’m ready.”
Nick didn’t elaborate, and Rayne didn’t know what to say to that. He wouldn’t push, but he wondered what held Nick back. Was he still worried about their trainee/instructor dynamic, even though that barrier was gone now? Was he still recovering from a nasty breakup? Did Rayne hope Nick would tell him? Hell, yeah.
Rayne held out a hand, palm up. “Hand me your phone.”
Confusion played over Nick’s ruggedly handsome face, and his voice was hesitant when he asked, “Why?”
“Please,” Rayne said quietly.
Nick’s expression softened somehow at the plea, and with a subtle shake of his head, as though he was surprised at obliging, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it before handing it over.
Rayne smiled as he took the device and punched his phone number into Nick’s contact list. When he was done, he resisted pressing send so that he could have Nick’s number too. Something told him that this had to be Nick’s move. Rayne didn’t know why, but he knew he had to leave it up to Nick to call first. Otherwise, if he had Nick’s phone number, he would call him the second he got home tonight. Maybe sooner, like before he even left the training center.
“There.” Rayne handed his phone back. “You have my number. Use it when you’re ready.”
Their fingers brushed when Nick’s hand closed around the device, and electricity shot up Rayne’s arm. Nick’s lips parted and Rayne’s inner child did a little happy dance.
“Hamilton,” Wash shouted as she popped back into the lecture hall. “We’re leaving.”
“Be right there,” Rayne called over his shoulder without breaking eye contact with Nick.
He couldn’t look away, and it seemed Nick couldn’t either.
“Where the hell is Hamilton?” Thatcher’s voice carried down the hallway.
Rayne sighed. “I’d better go.”
He didn’t want to leave, but he smiled anyway.
Nick cleared his throat and shook his head, as though clearing it from a fog. “Yeah,” he said, the single word rough sounding.
“Be seeing you, Lieutenant Nick Seavers,” Rayne said as he walked backwards.
And boy, did he ever hope he would see Nick soon.
Nick nodded. “See you.”
Wash was waiting for him outside the hall doors, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.
“So?” She pushed off the wall and fell into step with him. “Did you get his phone number? Plan your first date?”
“I gave him my phone number, yes,” Rayne said, already regretting that he hadn’t pressed send on Nick’s mobile.
“And you got his?”
He shook his head.
Her eyebrows rose. “Why not? You’ve been lusting after him since day one.”
Rayne shrugged. “Just making sure it’s not all me.”
He knew deep down in his bones that wasn’t the case, but he didn’t want to speculate on what held Nick back with Wash. That was tantamount to gossip, which he hated with a passion. There was enough of that from total strangers online when it came to him, his Blitz teammates, and hockey in general. Whatever the story was, it was Nick’s to tell, and his choice when and who to tell it to.
“Oh, believe me,” Kelly said with a grin. “It’s definitely not all you. He wants you too.”
“There you are,” Thatcher huffed as Rayne and Wash rounded the corner into the atrium. “What the hell took you so long? We’ve got some celebrating to do, man.”
Rayne pulled Thatcher into a side hug, knuckling his scalp as they staggered outside, laughing.
Later that night, as Rayne toasted and cheered with his new friends and fellow graduates, his mind kept wandering back to Nick Seavers. He checked his phone what felt like every five minutes. But each time disappointment lashed through him at the stubbornly blank screen. He took a swig of his beer as he noticed the time. How was it that only a few hours had passed since he’d left the training center, but it felt like weeks?
“Stop it,” Kelly said as she plopped down on a chair beside him, snatching the phone from his hand.
“Hey! Give that back.”
She shook her head as she shoved it into the back pocket of her jeans. “You can have it when we leave.”
Rayne slumped and crossed his arms. Was he pouting too? Jesus. How was it that Nick Seavers had him tied up in so many knots and he hadn’t even kissed the man yet?
“Nobody calls the same day, hon.”
I would. Rayne sighed. “I know.”
But that didn’t mean he couldn’t hope for it.
A bout of nerves hit Rayne square in the chest when he arrived at Capmany’s barbecue a couple of days later. He’d changed three times before leaving his house, which was ridiculous because he only had three pairs of shorts. But he’d needed the right pair of shorts to match the right T-shirt. He ended up in a pair of blue ombre beach shorts that reached mid-thigh, and a tight white T-shirt with the Boulder Blitz mascot emblazoned on it.
A woman with golden-brown skin and jet-black hair approached, her smile wide and welcoming and her dark eyes glittering with joy—as though Rayne and his friends arriving was the best thing to happen to her all day.
“Welcome, welcome,” she greeted, her gaze roving over them. “I’m Raquel, Óscar’s wife. Please come in and make yourselves at home.”
“Thank you, Raquel,” Rayne said, and introduced himself and his partners in crime—Kelly, Thatcher, and Garcia.
“I hope you all brought something to swim in,” Raquel said she led them through the modest house.
“We did,” Thatcher replied with youthful eagerness in his voice. He rubbed his hands together. “I can’t wait to get into the pool. It’s been years.”
Rayne followed the sound of voices and laughter into the backyard, with Kelly, Thatcher, and Garcia trailing behind.
“Hey guys,” Lieutenant Verlice greeted as they stepped out onto a large patio. “Grab yourselves some beer and join in.”
“Thanks, Lieutenant,” Garcia said as he reached into the cooler set in the shade against the house and pulled out bottles dripping with melting ice, handing them out.
“Oh, please,” Verlice scoffed. “Call me Sabrina.”
An attractive blonde woman came up behind Sabrina and slipped an arm around her waist. She smiled at them expectantly.
“This is my wife, Jenny.” Sabrina looked at her with so much adoration and love that an unexpected longing tugged at Rayne’s heart for someone to look at him the same way. Someone like Nick Seavers.
After introductions, Garcia split off to go mingle while Thatcher pulled off his T-shirt and wasted no time diving into the pool. Kelly stood with Rayne at the edge of the large patio as he took in the backyard scene.
There were over two dozen people mingling around the large yard in small groups. Rayne recognized some from training and others who he guessed were firefighters from other stations, as well as their partners and children.
A couple of young girls were playing swingball while Nick’s dog Roo chased the ball around the pole. A little boy barely two feet tall was trying to play badminton with an even smaller child. A few others were running around in circles, giggling and squealing. How different would his life have been if he’d had a childhood like that? Would he still have found his way to hockey? Would he even be standing where he was right now?
“No running on the pool deck!” a woman sitting at a gazebo-covered patio table shouted at a couple of boys, who immediately slowed to a fast walk, giggling conspiratorially.
At the table with her were a few more women and a couple of men, with wine coolers and beers in their hands, chatting animatedly away. A few people were playing a game of bocce ball while others splashed in the pool, and over at the barbecue stood the man who made his pulse quicken.
Nick was helping Capmany—who wore a red apron with Don’t make me use my firefighter voice in white letters splashed across the chest—cook burgers and hotdogs, but Rayne had a feeling “help” was a loose term, what with the way Capmany was waving a spatula in front of Nick’s face. Nick, who was wearing a peach-colored tank top that showed off his defined biceps and warm olive skin, and white boardshorts revealing lightly furred, sinewy legs that made Rayne’s mouth immediately water, flicked his hand at the utensil as though batting away a fly.
