Hot Damn(5)

“Was he hot?”

My mouth is open to continue my tirade, but when she says that, it clicks back shut again. “What?”

“Was he hot? I mean, was he one of those good-looking, we-want-you-naked-in-a-calendar firemen, or one of the old dried-up ones?”

“I can’t believe you’re even asking me that question.”

“Oh, c’mon, Maddy. A fireman busts into your apartment and you can’t take a minute to notice if he’s hot? He’s a real hero! You like heroes—you have pictures of Thor and Captain America all over your apartment.”

She has me there. I do have a thing for heroes. More of the superhero variety than the fireman variety, though. “Okay, fine. He was…not unattractive.”

“Ha! There. You see? You should ask him out!”

“What?” Man, that escalated quickly. “I should ask him out? On the basis of what? That he’s already seen me naked so we can get that awkward part out of the way?”

Mel shrugs. “Sure. Why not? I mean, how long has it been since you’ve dated?”

“A long time.” Truthfully I’ve been on maybe two dates since Christopher was born, and both were disasters. It’s not exactly easy to attract a man when you spend big chunks of your day covered in spit-up and baby poo. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“You could use a boyfriend. Maybe you’d be a little less uptight.”

“I’m not uptight.”

“You’re totally uptight.”

She’s sending my hackles up, which is probably what she’s after, but I can’t help snapping at her. Sisters, man. They always know exactly where to poke you.

“I’m doing just fine on my own, Mel,” I inform her, a little more loudly than I’d intended. “I’ve got a good job and Christopher’s healthy and until last night I had a nice apartment with doors that worked. I don’t need to be looking for a boyfriend under every stray rock.”

“Mama mad!” I hear Christopher say from the living room. I look over to see him grinning at me. He’s got one hand under the couch, but there’s still no sign of Sparks.

“Mama’s fine,” I tell him, quieting my voice. I give Mel a sharp look.

“Oh, lighten up, Mads,” she says, laughing openly at me now.

I shake my head at her. My anger’s fading—I know she was just ribbing me—but my single-parent status is a sore spot with me, and she knows it. It just seems kind of mean for her to tease me about it. “And,” I add, “if I get into a school, I’ll have even less time. So no, I’m not auditioning every fireman who busts through my door to see if he’d be an appropriate boyfriend.”

“Oh, oh!” Mel says, apparently apropos of nothing, and she lifts a finger in the air and heads to the kitchen. I follow her, curious, as she stops at the table and starts sorting through a pile of mail. “You got a letter. It went to Mom and Dad’s, and I grabbed it for you.” With a bit of a triumphant flair, she whips a business-size letter out of the pile and presents it.

I stare at it like it’s a poisonous snake. “Who’s it from?” I don’t even want to know. There are so many possibilities. And if I get too invested in it being the letter I really want—well, that way lies only tears.

“It’s from the Seattle College of Veterinary Medicine,” she announces, and she sounds like she’s presenting an Oscar. “Open it.”

It’s the letter. The letter. I’m afraid to touch it.

Mel’s brow scrunches up and she half smiles at me like she can’t figure out what the hell is wrong with me. Which is fine—I can’t figure out what the hell is wrong with me, either. Finally I make myself take the letter, fold it in half, and shove it into my purse.

“Open it,” Mel says again.

“I can’t. Not yet.”

“Why not? Isn’t the suspense going to kill you?”

I take a deep breath, considering. “No. I just can’t look at it right now. If it’s not…” I stop, gather myself, trying to find the right words. “If it’s not what I want it to be, I’ll be a mess all day at work, and I can’t have that. I need to be able to focus.”

“Do you think there’s actually a chance you didn’t get in?”

“Of course there’s a chance I didn’t get in! They don’t take just anybody, Mel.” Sometimes her overly positive outlook just makes me tired.

Then again, things have always come easily for Mel. She’s the one with the happy marriage, a handsome husband who dotes on her, and the nice house in a tree-lined, suburban street. I’m the one who got knocked up right out of college and then didn’t get married.

I’ve always wanted to go to vet school, but having Christopher sidelined those plans. If his dad had decided to stick around, maybe I could have managed it, but no. Troy hightailed it out of town as soon as he realized babies cry in the middle of the night.

“You got in,” Mel says, her tone so firm that for a second I wonder if I didn’t see the letter right, and she actually opened it and read it. “I know you did.”

I give a sigh. “I hope so. I really do. I don’t know how the hell I’m going to swing it, but I want this really bad, Mel. And I think I’m ready to tackle it.”

She reaches out and pats my hand. “It’s all going to work out.”

“I hope so.” Finally I take a step back toward the door. Christopher has gone quiet, which is probably a bad sign. “Well, off to work. I promise I’ll let you know what it says when I open it.”

“Okay. Don’t forget.”

“I won’t.”



I actually do manage to forget about the letter for the rest of the day, mostly because it’s super busy at the veterinary office where I work. There are a lot of animals coming in for their yearly vaccinations, plus the occasional injury or illness. Fortunately there are no tragedies today. I hate it when we have to deal with those.

Finally it’s time to shut things down for the evening. I lock the front door and lower the blinds, then head back to the desk to finish up my end-of-the-day paperwork.

Which is when somebody starts pounding on the front door.

I’m having flashbacks of being dragged out of my shower as I go back to the front door. Tweaking the blinds, I look out to see who’s knocking.

It’s a man. Of course it’s a man. A woman would have seen that we were closed and gone home. But this guy’s knocking on the door insistently with one hand, clinging to a cat carrier with the other. It’s a big cat carrier. What’s he got in there, a panther?

Then I look closer at his face. He’s very good-looking. Blondish hair, gray eyes…

At first I think the flashbacks are causing me to hallucinate. It can’t be Jesse the Fireman from last night. But it is. All six-foot-whatever of him, in jeans and a flannel shirt, holding a cat carrier and banging on the office door. The breath catches in my chest when he rakes an impatient hand through his blond wave, which is thick enough to cover his ears. I didn’t really notice it before—it was hidden under his helmet.

I unlock the door and open it, frowning.

“Trying to knock this door down, too?” I say, my tone a little sharp.

A catlike smile staggers across his face when he recognizes me, his eyes flicking to my name tag. “Hey there, Maddy.” He pauses, and I know damn well what’s coming next. His smirk gives it away. “I almost didn’t recognize you without the shower curtain.”

Heat crawls up my neck. Ass. Then I smile at him. “Sorry, we’re closed.”

“Hold on—I’ve got an appointment.”

“No, you had an appointment. Half an hour ago.”

His lips twitch. “You’re going to give me a hard time, aren’t you?”

“You mean like you did yesterday?” I’m relishing the panic on his face.

“Come on. I was doing my job.”

“Just like I am right now.” I lift my shoulders in a shrug. “Oh well.”

He grabs the door before I close it, stooping down slightly so that I can’t miss his deep-blue gaze. “I’m begging you. I can’t go back to my place with this damn cat. Please.”

Begging looks nice on Jesse the Fireman, even though he’s not really good at it. He looks like he might yank open the door, grab my waist, and push me aside no matter what I say. My imagination takes it a step further as I visualize him stepping inside boldly, his thick arms wrapping around me to lift me onto the counter.

Damn it, Maddy. Stop this right now.

But I can’t. Not while he’s looking at me like that. He’d better not be imagining me naked, although I know damn well he is. The thought makes me warm. Very warm. Extremely warm. Tingly, even. I force it away, reminding myself that I’m still pissed at him. And I’ve still got a couple of doors to get repaired and no idea how I’ll pay for them. It’s not like I can just conjure money out of thin air.

I open the door, allowing him to walk inside. “You had an appointment?” I remember seeing a stray name on the schedule, but I’ve been so busy all day I didn’t take much time to look at it.

“Yeah.” He has the courtesy to look sheepish. “I’m a little late. Okay, a half hour late. But it’s the cat’s fault.” He waves the cat carrier vaguely, and I notice his flannel sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. His forearms are covered with deep, red scratches. A few of them look like they drew blood. “He didn’t want to get in the carrier.”