Irons in the Fire Read online

  Irons In The Fire

  Hot Firemen, Book 3

  Beth Beaumont

  Copyright © 2020 by Beth Beaumont

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Callie

  Blake

  Callie

  Blake

  Callie

  Blake

  Callie

  Blake

  Callie

  Blake

  Callie

  Also by Beth Beaumont

  Callie

  Don’t get me wrong, I love my hourglass figure, and my luscious curves, but I gotta tell ya, when I looked at the numbers on the scale after the holidays, and caught a glimpse of my rearview in my bathroom mirror, I realized that I needed to do a little smoothing of the curves. Whether I wanted to or not, I needed to go to the gym.

  There’s a place near my apartment that was advertising a free personal training session for new members, so I figured why not? Maybe the trainer would be hot. Turns out he was hot – smoking hot – and so is his beloved girlfriend, who happens to be a plus size model. I was fully prepared to hate her, but she was so damn sweet that we became buddies instead. Her name is Josie, and she was a receptionist at an insurance company before her hunky bf sent her pictures to a modeling agency. Now, she’s just getting started, but she’s already making enough that she was able to quit her receptionist job. Lucky bitch.

  I give my long, espresso-colored ponytail a few last strokes with a brush before I head out the door to meet Josie at the gym. It’s chilly out today – winter in the Midwest – but I leave my coat in the closet and dash to my car. Thankfully, most of the New Year’s resolution people are gone now, so it’s not terribly crowded, and I see Josie’s car in the lot. Her boyfriend, Chug, the trainer who is also a fire fighter, waves to me as I head for the treadmill to warm up.

  “Hey girl,” Josie calls out, looking fabulous in a pink workout shirt and yoga pants.

  I feel a bit blimpish next to her, even though we’re practically exactly the same size. I have bigger boobs, which I don’t mind at all. They balance out my hips nicely.

  “Hey, Jose,” I grin, glad to see her.

  I tap the button on the treadmill to make it go a bit faster. I don’t like to sweat, and I absolutely hate breathing hard…from exercise anyway, but I was fully aware when I made every fantastic recipe that I could think of during the holidays, that there would eventually be a price to pay. Getting winded walking up the stairs is not my idea of a good time, so here I am.

  I bake when I’m stressed, and with family visiting me during the holidays, let’s just say I could have opened my own bakery and still had leftovers. All is well though. I survived, and there was minimal drama. Now it’s time to get back on track.

  Josie tells me all about her first photo shoot and says that I should apply to the modeling agency too. I laugh at her and change the subject back to her shoot, which sounds like so much fun. I’m very confident about the way that I look – dark chocolate hair, skin so white that my veins show, and ice blue eyes – but the thought of a professional photo shoot scares the heck out of me. Besides, I love my job. I’m a professional organizer. I work with interior designers, helping people who can’t seem to get their clutter under control, and it’s very rewarding.

  “So, I have an idea,” Josie says, with a sparkle in her eye that makes me instantly suspicious.

  “Nope, I’m not going to apply,” I say breathily, shaking my head and watching the numbers on the calories burned monitor rise.

  “Slow down and listen to me for a sec,” she laughs. “It’s not about modeling.”

  I push the speed button a couple of times and slow down a bit, glad that she gave me an excuse to take it easy.

  “I’m listening,” I say, shooting her a wary glance.

  “So…Chug has a little brother named Blake,” she begins, and I nod.

  Now I get it.

  “And he needs a babysitter?” I ask.

  I like kids, but it depends on how old Blake is whether I’ll agree to help out. If he’s between five and fifteen, that’s fine, but if he’s under five, that’s way outside of my comfort zone. Josie bursts into laughter.

  “Not exactly,” she gasps, slowing down her machine so that she doesn’t fall off while she cracks up. “Blake is twenty-five,” she explains, and now I’m totally confused.

  “Okay…?” I stare at her, frowning.

  “Chug and I are going to dinner tonight, and we thought that you might want to come along and meet Blake,” Josie grins and waggles her eyebrows.

  I get her meaning now.

  “A blind date? Oh, hell no,” I shake my head, reaching out to grab the treadmill to steady myself. “I don’t do blind dates.”

  “Don’t think of it as a date,” Josie shrugs. “Think of it as hanging out with your new bff and meeting someone new.”

  “I’m really not good at that sort of thing. I tried online dating and it just was not my thing,” I sigh.

  “Look, you’re a hot, single woman, who hasn’t gotten laid in goodness knows how long…” she begins.

  “Hey!” I protest, smiling, even though I’m trying not to.

  What can I say, it’s true. I broke up with my last boyfriend after he said that I needed to go on a diet, and I haven’t had sex since. That was roughly a year and a half ago. So yeah, it’s been a while. But still. A blind date?

  “What? You know it’s true. Listen, this guy is gorgeous, and a sweetheart. He’s a fire fighter too, and a competitive bodybuilder. You should at least meet him. It was Chug’s idea,” she wheedles. “Don’t make me beg. He doesn’t get out much, come on, Cal,” she pleads.

  “What’s wrong with him?” I raise an eyebrow, suspicious.

  “Nothing,” Josie giggles. “Stop being so paranoid. It’s just dinner. If you don’t like him, you can just eat and leave. We’re going to Krinos…you know you love that,” she tempts me.

  “Oh man, I haven’t had Greek food in so long,” I breathe, my mouth filling up with saliva, even though it’s dry from the exercise.

  “See? It’ll be fun. Just come out, don’t overthink it,” Josie urges.

  “When?” I ask, visions of gyros and kebabs flitting through my head.

  “How about tonight at seven? Both brothers are on call, but as long as there aren’t any fires, we’ll be fine,” she grins, relieved.

  “I’ll be starving by seven,” I grouse, still on the fence about whether to even go.

  “Well, their shift doesn’t end until six, so you’ll just have to have an afternoon snack to tide you over. I’ll buy you a smoothie before you leave,” she offers.

  “Fine, but it has to be one of the peanut butter ones,” I sigh.

  I love those peanut butter banana smoothies. You could ask me to wrestle an alligator and I might consider it if a peanut butter smoothie waited for me afterwards.

  “Great, it’s a date then,” Josie exclaims.

  “You just said it wasn’t a date,” I accuse.

  “Right,” she falters. “I meant, it’s a date for Chug and me. You and Blake will just be there to keep us company.”

  “Better make that smoothie a large,” I mutter, turning the treadmill up two more notches.

  If I’m going to have Greek food, I’m darn sure gonna work up a hearty appetite.

  Blake

  “I’m completely capable of finding my own dates, thank you very much,” I turn on my brother, offended that h
e’s trying to set me up.

  I date when I want to, and ever since my last girlfriend moved to Thailand to ‘find herself,’ I haven’t wanted to. Seems like every time I trust a woman, she breaks my heart. Besides, I’ve got enough going on, with my job and competitions, to keep me busy.

  “Really?” Chug teases me. “I kinda thought since you were so ugly and weak that no girls would ever talk to you,” he mocks me, like only a big brother can.

  “Who is this chick, anyway?” I ask, checking my form in the mirror as I do curls with more weight than most people bench.

  The firehouse weight room isn’t as good as the gym where Chug works, not even close, but when I’m on shift, it’s the best option I’ve got. I ignore my brother’s dig, because if I acknowledge it, he’ll just ramp up the torture. That’s how big bros roll.

  “She’s a buddy of Josie’s. They met at the gym a few weeks ago,” he explains.

  “What’s wrong with her?” I ask, giving him a look.

  “What do you mean, what’s wrong with her? Why does anything have to be wrong with her?” Chug acts confused.

  “She’s single, and you’re trying to set her up. If there isn’t something wrong with her, why is she single and why is she asking you to set her up?” I challenge, switching the dumbbell to my other hand and checking my posture.

  “By that logic, shouldn’t I be asking what’s wrong with you?” he shoots back.

  I roll my eyes and he laughs.

  “There’s nothing wrong with her. She’s beautiful and has a sense of humor. I figure an independent lady like her might be able to put up with the likes of you,” Chug chuckles. “I don’t even know if she’s going to agree to go,” he shrugs. “Josie is asking her, while I ask you.”

  “So you’re trying to set me up and you’re not even sure if she’ll be there?” I snort, shaking my head.

  “The two of them were at the gym about half an hour ago,” Chug finishes checking the machine behind me, and marks it off on his list.

  “Well, what did she say? Does she even know who I am?” I frown, feeling set up and not liking it.

  “I have no idea. I haven’t talked to Josie yet. Why do you care though? You don’t want to meet her anyway, right?” he goads me.

  “Right,” I say, dropping the dumbbell back onto the rack and reaching for my towel to mop my face. “I’m not going.”

  “Suit yourself,” Chug says, casually. Too casually. “We’re going to Krinos.”

  “Krinos? Man, that’s not fair,” I groan, my stomach gurgling in response.

  I love Greek food. I’d sit through most anything if it meant that I could chow down on lamb drowned in tzatziki sauce, with a side of flaming cheese.

  “Your choice,” Chug says lightly, like he doesn’t care.

  I know that he’s playing me, and all I can think about is dinner at Krinos.

  “When were you thinking?” I sigh, giving in to my food lust.

  “How about tonight at seven? We come off shift at six, so that’ll give you plenty of time to get ready,” he replies, studying his checklist.

  “Get ready for what? It’s not like I’m going to try to impress a total stranger,” I make a face.

  “Well, at least take a shower,” Chug hides a laugh, leaning close. “You stink, bro.”

  “You wish you smelled this good,” I call after him as he walks away.

  When his back is turned, and I know he’s not looking, I take a quick sniff of my underarms. It’s a little musky, but not bad. Jerk. I’ll shower anyway, but just because I like to be clean. Not because I’m trying to impress some chick. I’m going to eat boatloads of Greek food tonight. Boatloads.

  Callie

  I’m not dressing in my best jeans and cobalt-blue zipper-front sweater to try and impress Chug’s brother. I’m doing it because I’m going out to dinner and I just want to look nice. The sweater makes my big blue eyes look even bigger, along with a very expensive mascara that’s worth every penny. I don’t wear much makeup, but I have this lip gloss in passion pink that I just love. I know I’m like a twelve year old, but it smells and tastes like cotton candy and I can’t leave the house without it. My hair hangs in long, loose curls that fall halfway down my back, and my earrings are the simple gold hoops that my mom gave me two Christmases ago. A pink and blue silk scarf finishes off my look, and I head out the door, hating to cover up my outfit with my bubblegum pink parka.

  When I pull into the Krinos parking lot, my heart drops to my stomach, and I want to turn around. What was I thinking? This evening has a very good chance of turning out to be awkward and awful. I should leave. The smell of roasting meat and Greek spices wafts magically through the heating vents of my car, and I’m engulfed in the savory scent. This. This smell is why I’m here. Why on earth should I let the thought of Chug’s brother cheat me out of a plateful of yumminess? That’s just silly. I find a parking spot and get out of the car, walking toward Krinos like a woman with kebabs on her mind.

  Josie texted to let me know that they had a table, and when I see her waving from a booth in the corner, naturally I see Chug’s little brother, Blake. When she said he was gorgeous, she wasn’t exaggerating. Blond hair, blue eyes, and a body that won’t quit. My eyes catch his and I smile, butterflies suddenly fluttering in my growling stomach. He looks very serious and nods.

  Oh great. This is a sympathy thing to build my confidence or something. He’s clearly not interested. I feel a blush working its way up onto my cheeks and I take a deep breath. Head held high, I move toward the table, determined to enjoy my dinner. There’s no reason that I have to pretend to like the beefcake brother. I don’t even have to talk to him. I’m here for the food and that’s just fine.

  Josie jumps up and hugs me, a satisfied grin on her face.

  “Girl, you look amazing,” she whispers in my ear.

  “Oh whatever,” I give her a lopsided smile, feeling anything but attractive.

  Chug stands up and gives me a hug too, and then his brother, being polite, stands while Josie introduces us, and shakes my hand.

  “Nice to meet you,” I say coolly, sitting next to Josie in the booth.

  Chug and Blake are on the other side, with Blake across from me. Awkward. Thankfully, they already ordered a crisp white wine, and I sip at mine after Chug fills my glass.

  “To good food and good company,” Josie says, raising her glass.

  “Cheers,” I mutter, forcing a smile.

  We all clink our glasses together, pretending to have a good time. I take a nice big swig of the wine, hoping it hits my system fast enough to make me not so horribly aware of the hot, but aloof, guy across the table.

  “You look fantastic,” I tell Josie, noticing her dramatic eye makeup and black jumpsuit.

  “It’s all fake,” she giggles. “I had a shoot today, so I just left the makeup on, and they let me keep one of the outfits. I’m airbrushed all over the place right now.”

  “Baby, you’re beautiful without any makeup,” Chug says, picking up her hand and kissing it.

  I wince inwardly, wondering what it would be like to have a guy say things and look at me like that. The last asshole always made me feel like I never quite measured up to his oh-so-high standards.

  “You’re biased,” Josie grins at him across the table, giving him a look that leaves no doubt as to what they’ll be doing after dinner.

  I glance over at Blake and see him staring at me while I watch the two of them. The discomfort is almost palpable. Where the hell is the server? I look around, knowing that the sooner we order, the sooner we can eat and get the heck outta there.

  “So, Callie…what do you do for a living?” Blake asks, sounding as though he’s following a script.

  What a polite boy, asking the questions that one is supposed to ask when meeting someone new. I know I’m being bitchy, but I’m a little resentful that Josie and Chug put us in this situation. I didn’t ask to be set up, and clearly Blake isn’t happy about it either.

/>   “I’m a professional organizer,” I say.

  Standard answer to a standard question. Let’s see what golden boy does with that. I hate myself for judging him, but his body and hair and eyes are so perfect that I imagine the things he must be thinking about me. He probably dates tall blondes that weigh about as much as my cat, Twitch.

  “That sounds interesting, but I don’t quite know what that means. What do you organize, exactly?” he asks, pretending to be interested.

  Well, if nothing else, he’s good at acting polite.

  “Whatever needs it,” I shrug. “I go into people’s homes and help them decide what items to keep and what to sell or give away. Then, when they get rid of everything that they don’t need, I organize systems for them so that they can more easily find things and put them away instead of having a messy space.”

  “So you help hoarders work through their issues then,” he nods gravely.

  “Or, ordinary people who want to function more efficiently,” I look at him closely.

  It’s weird…I’m trying to interpret his expression and it looks like compassion. Does he feel sorry for me because of my career choice? Odd. Is he judging my clients?

  “Sounds like a service that I could use,” he smiles faintly, and it’s like the sun breaking through the clouds.

  “Most people could use some help with their household organization systems,” I say, noncommittally. “But not everyone is able to afford an organizer,” I blurt, feeling defensive, without knowing why.

  “I guess it’s just a matter of priorities,” Blake remarks, sounding offended.

  I didn’t mean that he seemed like a poor person, but if he chooses to take it that way, that’s his problem. I’m saved from having to reply by the arrival of the server (finally), ready to take our orders.