Put Out (Kilgore Fire Book 5) Read online

  That worked for me, though.

  I was a thirty-two year old man who couldn’t talk to a beautiful woman without finding a fault. Every woman I came into contact with got compared to her—Angie.

  After taking care of messaging PD, I flipped the chair catch that allowed my computer chair to sit further back, and leaned backwards, letting my feet rest against the desktop.

  Unzipping my jeans, I was about to do what every red-blooded man would do in a time like this, after the show Sierra had just given me with those bouncy breasts, when a moan drifted out of my computer.

  Freezing, I stared at the computer like it’d somehow become possessed in the last two minutes since I’d used it.

  Then another moan came.

  And another.

  “Oh, Brody,” Sierra’s voice drifted out of my speakers. “You know how I like it.”

  With a shake of my head, I let my feet drop from the desktop, and I grudgingly buttoned my pants.

  With my erection completely gone, I sat forward, deleted all of Sierra’s emails, friends accounts, and deleted her from my Skype list.

  Five minutes later, as I ordered more lumber for the build I was working on with my fellow firefighters and two great friends, PD and Able, I idly wondered why it was so fucking hard to find a woman who wasn’t a complete douche.

  When I listened to ladies whining about ‘all the good guys being taken,’ I had to wonder if they realized that the road went both ways. Maybe they weren’t one of the good women—which was what I was having a problem with.

  I couldn’t find one.

  I’d thought I’d found one in a lovely lady named Masen, but she’d been in love with one of my fellow firefighters, Booth, since she was sixteen.

  We’d been in the early stages of dating when Booth came back to town, and the moment the two saw each other, I knew that that was it for me. Booth and Masen were meant for each other. However, that didn’t make it any easier on me.

  Then I’d met Angie and had watched her like a hawk. Begged her to go out with me, and was shot down a million and one times.

  After each subsequent refusal on Angie’s part, I realized that maybe finding a woman wasn’t in the cards for me.

  Maybe I was meant to be alone.

  Chapter 2

  In alcohol’s defense, I’ve done some dumb shit completely sober, too.

  -Angie’s secret thoughts

  Angie

  “Are you all right?” I asked the woman who was my newest patient.

  I was a patient care tech at the one and only hospital in Kilgore, and had been for going on two years now. I was nearly twenty-three years old, and couldn’t make my decision about what I wanted to be when I grew up.

  I worked for my brother as an office assistant at his automotive shop, and I also worked for one of my good friends as her assistant—or had before she’d started working more with her husband, PD.

  Now, I just focused on the other two jobs and helped July when she needed it, which, sadly, wasn’t nearly as often as I would have liked.

  I missed her.

  Not that I would tell her that.

  I didn’t share my feelings. Not with anyone. Not even with my brother or sister.

  I’d been taught at a young age that sharing feelings led to emotions, and emotions were unstable.

  “Yes, Dear,” the older lady said. “I was just trying to get comfortable. My grandson will be here any minute, and he’s going to have a cow if I look like crap.”

  I tried to hold my tongue, really, I did, but a smile overtook my face.

  “Nothing you do is going to hide the fact that you had a stroke,” I told her. “Your face droops all on one side and, likely, you’ll have permanent paralysis on your left side.”

  She grimaced, and my belly jolted at seeing only one half of her face show the emotion.

  “I know,” she said. “I should’ve called the ambulance.”

  She should have.

  Instead, she’d driven.

  Fucking driven while she was having a stroke!

  I nodded my head. “If it ever happens again, you need to.”

  She sighed. “I get nauseous in the back of the ambulance. Then I throw up. It’s so embarrassing,” she hesitated. “The last time I was in one, I threw up all over my grandson’s boss!”

  My eyes lit with humor. “That’s too bad. Although, they’re used to stuff like that.”

  She huffed out a laugh.

  “I know.” She lifted her mirror—a real handheld one that was sterling silver on the back and looked fit for any princess—and looked at her face again. “He’s going to have a conniption.”

  Pounding boots outside in the hallway had me turning just in time to see a blur of navy blue come darting into the room, and then stop once he reached the foot of the bed.

  “Grams!” the blur cried. “Oh, dammit.”

  Ruth, aka Grams, narrowed her one good eye at her grandson.

  “Bowen Race Tannenbaum,” she pointed her finger at him. “Language!”

  This was her grandson? My heart started to flutter at seeing Mr. Bowen Race Tannenbaum.

  Bowe’s hair was a brown so dark it looked black in certain light, and cut so close to his scalp that it made me wonder if he shaved it off every morning. I’d never seen his hair any longer than it was right then.

  Today, instead of on his head, his KFD hat was in his hands as he nervously rolled the bill between them as he looked at his grandmother with concern.

  He was wearing his usual firefighter uniform of blue tactical pants with pockets up and down the side. There was a thick white strip that likely was reflective down each side as well, skipping over the huge ass pockets that had the tools of his trade filling them.

  His shirt was an extremely tight navy blue Kilgore Fire Department t-shirt with KFD on the breast pocket. That t-shirt was stretched tautly over his impressive chest and loose over his belly, which I knew for a fact hid an impressive abdomen.

  It wasn’t an eight pack, but it was pretty darn close.

  And oh, God. The chest hair on him was delicious. I’d seen Bowe without his shirt while he was working on his house flips. I wasn’t normally one to go for a hairy guy, but Bowe wasn’t so much hairy as he was manly. He had hair where he was supposed to have hair. On his chest, and a thin trail of hair that ran in a straight line down his belly.

  “You had a stroke?” he asked, raising one hand to his face and rubbing his fingers down them as he tried to wipe away whatever horror he saw in front of his eyes.

  His chiseled cheekbones and dark brown eyes looked absolutely devastated.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  The squawk of his radio had him absentmindedly reaching up to turn the radio off at his shoulder before looking at his grandmother with an impatient look.

  “They think I had a stroke.”

  He looked over to me, and physically jolted at the sight of me standing at his grandmother’s bedside.

  “Angie,” he nodded his head politely, then turned back to his grandmother.

  That one word had my heart pounding.

  That deep voice, saying my name, was the absolute highlight of my shitty day.

  “Why didn’t I get this call over the scanner?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

  I bit my lip.

  How anyone could stand up to that angry voice surprised me, but to see this little old lady do it was downright awe inspiring.

  “You know how being in the back of one of those makes me feel!” Ruth yelled at her grandson. “It brings back bad memories!”

  I turned back to Bowe, his gorgeous face set in devastation.

  “I don’t care if you had a bad experience in an ambulance!” he yelled. “You threw up! Everyone throws up! I could’ve lost you!”

  My heart clenched.

  “Bowen,” Ruth murmured soothingly. “I’m okay.”

  “No, you’re not!” he countered. “Your face is fucking paralyzed.”

  “
I don’t care how upset you are, Bowen. Don’t use those ugly words in front of me.” She pointed a gnarled finger at him again.

  Bowe threw his hands up.

  “Where’s your doctor?”

  The door to the room opened and another firefighter strolled in, this one being PD.

  “Temper, temper.”

  Bowe gave PD a look that could peel paint, and I covered up my smile by gathering my supplies and shoving them back into the basket that I pushed around as I visited all of my patients.

  “I’m going to go, Ruth,” I told her. “If you need anything, like help to the bathroom or to move to the chair, just press your button, okay?”

  Ruth smiled happily at me, only one side of her mouth working, and I took that as my cue to leave.

  I zipped out of the small space between the bed and the cabinet, then promptly slammed it into Bowe’s foot.

  “Sorry,” I muttered.

  His eyes caught mine, and I had to tear my eyes away from his beautiful brown ones or I’d throw myself at him to try to comfort him.

  And lord knew he didn’t need me doing that to him right now.

  He needed me to get the fuck out, so that’s what I did.

  I hurriedly exited the room, but came to a sudden halt to find the entire hallway lined with Bowe’s fellow firefighters.

  “Uhh,” I said. “Hello.”

  The lot of them smiled at me.

  “Hello.”

  I waved at them and hurried away before they expected me to talk, and headed straight for the nurses’ station.

  “Dr. Pollock,” I called the minute my ass passed into medical personnel domain. “Ruth Tannenbaum, in room 1530, has family there that wants to speak with you.”

  Dr. Pollock got up from where he was sitting and went to grab Ruth’s chart.

  “Thanks,” he dismissed me as the lowly peon I was.

  I rolled my eyes and started to gather my things. “I’m taking my lunch.”

  The charge nurse bobbed her head.

  “Fine,” she said. “Going to run?”

  I nodded.

  I usually used my lunch hour to work out, because lord knew if I didn’t work out then, then I wouldn’t do it when I got home.

  And if I didn’t run, that meant I couldn’t eat what I wanted without my ass getting as large as a small truck.

  So, without further ado, I went to the staff lounge, grabbed my bag, and changed my clothes.

  Once I was dressed, I slipped my feet back into my shoes and walked to the elevator.

  I was waiting with my back facing the hallway when I heard them coming.

  Cursing silently, I looked over to the stairs that were between the staff elevators and the visitor elevators, and realized that I wasn’t going to make it.

  No matter what I did, they’d see me.

  And I knew that PD took the stairs if he had a chance to.

  Freezing in place and hoping they wouldn’t notice me with my hair up and changed into different clothes, I stayed facing forward and waited for the elevator to arrive.

  Conversation continued as the men got closer, and I watched the numbers above the elevator doors hoping it would open and I could close it before they got there.

  Jesus, what was I thinking wearing these shorts today? Seriously—so stupid.

  I had another thought quickly after that one, and it caused me to smile.

  Maybe he’s not with them.

  I had high hopes that he wasn’t there, but was proven wrong long seconds later when I heard that deep, lust inspiring, jaw dropping, knee shaking voice of his.

  The man only had to speak a single word, and it didn’t matter that he was talking about shit—literal shit—while he said it. I was gone, and he didn’t even really try.

  He had no clue that he affected me like he did.

  If he had direct access to my panties, then he would know.

  But since I wouldn’t be giving it to him, then it should be fine. He’d never know…right?

  “Yo, Angie,” PD rumbled as he stopped beside me. “Going to run?”

  I looked over at July’s husband, and then nodded.

  “I am,” I confirmed. “What are y’all up to?”

  “Caught a call,” he answered. “But another crew is on their way to it since we’re here; now we’re just going back to the station in case another one comes in.”

  I nodded my head.

  “Got it,” I confirmed. “Did y’all finish the new project house, yet?”

  He grinned.

  “Almost,” he said. “July’s having fun picking out all the interior shit.”

  I knew she would. That’d always been her favorite part with the two houses I had been privileged enough to help her with.

  “How’s the baby doing?” I questioned him, feeling eyes on me.

  I didn’t turn around, though.

  If I turned around, I had to acknowledge him…I might have to talk to him.

  If I had to talk to him, then I’d get tongue-tied. I had enough problems without adding looking like a dumbass in front of my crush to the list.

  “Good,” he replied, sounding a lot more tired than he had a second ago. “I haven’t slept through the night since she was born. Even when I’m at the station; it’s not like I’m a fucking teenager anymore. It’s killing me.”

  I grinned at him.

  “Well, it could be worse,” I said. “The baby could have colic.”

  He shot me a mock glare.

  “Bite your tongue,” he retorted just as the doors to the elevator opened.

  We all piled in, and I got into the corner so I could press the button and stay out of the way and not get any closer to Bowe and his beautiful body than I absolutely had to.

  It would’ve worked, too, had there not been another stop on the second floor pushing their way on.

  “Press one, please,” a frazzled looking doctor said with a phone to his ear. “What time did she arrive? She’s having the baby in the lobby?”

  I backed up when two more nurses and another doctor got onto the elevator with him, having no other choice but to move until I was nearly touching the man at my back.

  A man that I somehow could feel was Bowe.

  We weren’t actually touching, no. But the sheer amount of heat I could feel wafting from his body was immense.

  I could feel him from the backs of my ankles all the way to the top of my head.

  It was the longest elevator ride of my life, and it didn’t matter one single bit that I wasn’t actually touching him.

  I almost was, and that was enough to make my legs start to tremble again.

  The doors opened, and my sigh of relief at the doctor’s exit was cut short by a man wielding a gurney who shoved into the elevator with us.

  “Jesus Christ, man, we would have gotten off,” one of the other firefighters mumbled. “Couldn’t you have waited?”

  “Sure, I could have,” the orderly answered. “But I didn’t want to.”

  He continued to push, straight in my direction, and I had no choice but to step back even more.

  This time I wasn’t so lucky as I had been the previous time. I touched Bowe from shoulders to ass, and my body was on fire.

  “’Scuse me,” the orderly pushed back a little more.

  Then, swear to God, the man pressed floor seven on the panel, making all of us groan.

  “We’re going to the ground floor, not up,” PD growled.

  I groaned, too, but not for the same reason.

  My groan was due to the fact that I could feel Bowe’s breath on my neck, and his erection—or what I thought was his erection since I wasn’t going to wiggle around to verify—against my backside.

  I swear I tried. I really did.

  But with the closeness of our bodies, I had no other recourse but to move.

  I had to see if that was really his cock.

  I had to.

  I couldn’t continue to live my life if I didn’t know.

  I wo
uld literally die if I didn’t know.

  So I wiggled.

  Just a small amount.

  It was enough, though, to have Bowe’s hand go to my hip and still the movement before I could get much more of a wiggle in, but it was enough.

  It was his cock.

  His really big...massive…oh, my god it’s huge…cock.

  The hand on my hip squeezed, and the pain resulting from the move was enough to make me freeze.

  What was I doing?

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, dropping my head so my hair covered my face.

  He let up the death grip, but he didn’t let go completely.

  The next thirty seconds were the longest half a minute of my life.

  All I could think about was bending my upper body over the gurney that was in front of me and presenting him with my ass.

  Thankfully the doors opened, but the man with the gurney did nothing but stand there and force everyone to move around him.

  Bowe and I being the last ones off.

  “Go head,” Bowe’s deep voice growled.

  I scurried around the gurney and squeezed out of the opening, not stopping until I was out the ER entrance and running down the street like my ass was on fire.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck,” I growled to myself. “Fuck!”

  My breathing, which was already way too labored, only got worse when the firetruck drove past me with none other than Bowe watching me as it passed.

  Fucking wonderful.

  Even better, my nipples were hard, and he smiled, letting me know he knew what he did to me.

  Perfect! Just freakin’ perfect!

  Chapter 3

  I can’t tie a cherry stem with my tongue, but I can eat my body weight in carbs. Want to date me now?

  -Angie’s secret thoughts

  Angie

  “Did you know that it takes a six-mile run to work off one Oreo?” my sister, my about to die of asphyxiation little bitch of a sister, asked me.

  I turned my head to her so slowly that most people would’ve run, quickly.

  My sister, Ariel, only smiled.

  “What?” she asked innocently.

  “Go away,” I mumbled, picking up a slip of paper that was a recent parts order, and filed it where it belonged.