Page 5 of Living with Fire
I’m not the type of guy that would hit on a woman in an elevator in the first place—I leave shit like that up to my best friend, Liam—but if I were, I think I’d pick a woman like this. While she isn’t leggy, standing a good five inches shorter than me even in heels, she has nice, toned calves that are shown off in the black skirt that clings to hips that scream she’s all woman.
She smells intoxicating. If I could bottle the scent of a woman and take it everywhere with me, it would be whatever this woman is wearing. It’s filling the elevator and making my mouth water. It’s fruity and sweet, reminding me of a warm summer evening in the backyard, with good friends and great beer. I don’t stop myself from taking a deep breath, letting it fill my senses.
When it comes to how a woman smells, it’s an aphrodisiac for me. I’ve always attributed that to spending a lot of time smelling smoke from fires, blood from crash scenes, and cleaners from the firehouse. Being a firefighter for the last twelve years, working my way up from a volunteer to a lieutenant, I’ve seen a lot, and smelled more. I thoroughly enjoy a nice smelling woman.
“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice softer than before, but no less embarrassed. “I shouldn’t have assumed anything.”
“Rough morning?” I ask with a raise of my brow.
I can feel her look at me from the side of her eye, and in my peripheral vision see her nod. “Yep.”
The elevator dings a second later. When the doors open, I stick my hand out to keep it held, gesturing for her to precede me. I’m trying to be a chivalrous gentleman on a bad day for this woman. When I glance at her, however, I’m met with a wary gaze, and I feel my eyebrows shoot up in surprise, given that she just apologized to me.
“Ladies first,” I explain tentatively, still holding the doors.
“All due respect,” she says with a tight smile, the ire from earlier diminished, “If I get off the elevator before you, I know you’re just going to look at my ass and watch me as I walk away, which is the last thing I need right now.”
While she’s not wrong, I’m not about to tell her that. Any red-blooded male would look—those are just facts—and she’s calling me out on them. I must admit, I’m a little disappointed that I’m not going to get a good look at what I’m guessing is a shapely ass, but she isn’t moving an inch on this, and I won’t be stuck in an elevator with this woman just so I can get an eyeful.
“Suit yourself,” I say, shrugging. “But that works both ways. If I can’t stare at your ass, you better not be ogling mine.”
With a smirk to myself when I hear a gasp of surprise followed by a snort of laughter, I step out of the elevator into the parking garage and start towards my truck. I can hear the woman’s heels clicking on the ground behind me, indicating she’s walking in the same direction I am.
I can’t help it when I give my ass a little shake. Hoping to get another chuckle out of her, I call over my shoulder, “Stop objectifying me. I can feel you checking me out, just like when you got on the elevator.”
Laughter from behind has warmth spreading through me. The grin I’ve been trying to hold back this entire time is now in full-blown breakout mode. When I glance over my shoulder this time, I catch her eyes, amusement dancing in my own. “It’s okay. I know I’ve got a nice ass. It’s hard not to stare, but you should really try to refrain.”
I’m met with a huff big enough that the box in her arms bounces awkwardly, and though she’s trying to keep a straight face, her eyes are livelier than when she got on the elevator.
Turning around to walk backwards the last few feet to my truck, I hear the words coming out of my mouth before I can stop them, “I suppose it’s better for you to stare at my ass than my crotch, isn’t it?”
My words have the desired effect I wanted. I’m delighted when I see her eyes dart below my waist because she can’t help herself. Just as quickly she’s looking back up, embarrassment flashing in her beautiful eyes.
“Disgusting. Filthy. Pigs!” she calls out, trying to infuse anger in her tone, but I catch the smile spreading across her lips before she disappears between two cars.
And just like that, my mood has lifted. There’s still a cloud hanging over me, but instead of threatening rain, the sun came out to shine.
CHAPTER 3
NATE
“Wait, so after all this, you still didn’t get this girl's number?” Liam asks from across the burnt barnwood bar.
Since leaving the accountant’s office, I’ve been bartending the country and western style pub. Liam planted his butt on a black bar stool an hour ago to have some dinner and a couple of beers. I just finished telling him the story about the woman in the elevator, and he’s flabbergasted that I did little more than shake my ass.
“Where would that have been appropriate? Before, or after, she called men pigs the first time? Or maybe the second?” I retort, a hip pressed against the bar, my arms folded over my chest.
I shouldn’t expect anything more from Liam, but I always do. I love the guy like a brother, but he’s the definition of a man whore. There’s a constant revolving door of women he finds at the bar to take home with him. Though he’s never actually dated a woman for the entire ten years I’ve known him, I know he’s got a lot more to give than he thinks he has. He just doesn’t allow himself to see, or think, he’s capable of anything other than the playboy bachelor lifestyle.
He picks up his beer and points it at me, concern etched in his sharp facial features and brown eyes. “Dude, the lack of game you have astonishes me. How are we even friends?”
“I have game,” I grumble, grabbing a bar rag to wipe down the counter. It doesn’t need it, but I know Liam isn’t going to let up on my dating life now that I’ve opened the door. I should have known better than to say anything, but I’m a masochist.
“Really? When was the last time you went out with a woman? Hell dude, when’s the last time you got laid?”
“I get laid.”
I do. Or I could. I just haven’t. Life has been hectic. There’s nothing wrong with that. But Liam sits there and stares at me, waiting for me to answer the question. When I don’t, he beams in triumph.